#and like yes I know I’d be less irritated if I weren’t frustrated by the rest of my work

[curiosity-killed]

I know some of it is because of this one dude on it but god I am so frustrated by and sick of this initiative I’m on at work

[wandaromanova]

Lost

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of cancer, death, cussing

A/N: hello! i’d like to put a disclaimer that i am not in any way knowledgeable of the medical field and all of the terminology and information used in this fic was found through research! happy reading <3

anon requested: hiiiii !! can i request like an angst into fluff natxfem!reader one shot where the reader has a really bad day and takes it out on nat and hurts her feelings and so they go to bed angry. but the reader realizes their mistake and the next morning just wakes her up by showering her with love and then takes the whole day to do cute little date things with her? like making her favorite meal or like dancing in the kitchen to their favorite song late at night or just super fluffy things? if not, that’s okay!! have a good day <3

Summary: The heavy weight of her profession gets to Y/N and she takes her anger out on her loving girlfriend; Natasha Romanoff.

Word Count: 3K | navigation

please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. <3

Becoming a doctor was no easy feat.

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Once high school is completed, one must receive your bachelor’s degree before taking the MCAT exam and applying to medical school. After four years of medical school, you must endure a year as an intern before being promoted to a resident. 

Depending on what specialty one has selected, residency can span from three to seven years. Fellowships follow after but are typically an optional course that provides extra training. 

Yes, there are a lot of necessary steps to take in order to set foot into the medical world, but somehow, the years of foreplay could never compare to being a full-fledged physician; and you knew this all too well.

You are a pediatric oncologist and your job was to diagnose and provide treatment to children and teenagers who had cancer. You specialized in hematology; the treatment of blood disorders.

You were the head of pediatric oncology in a Manhattan hospital. You dealt with a lot of patients, but a two-year-old little girl named Sarah was secretly your favorite. 

Despite being diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia, Sarah’s positivity and playful personality never faltered.

Even if she didn’t understand the circumstances because of her young age, you knew she was suffering. Regardless of it all, every session you had with her was endearing.

You met with the child once a week to administer chemotherapy. Her enthusiasm never failed to have you awestruck. Most of your patients were exhausted from the treatments, but not Sarah. 

She was a hyper child who would attempt to sing Frozen songs, performing as you tried to fight a smile from taking over your features. She had a stuffed Olaf doll that she brought with her to every visit and it was heartwarming to see her hug the doll close to her chest. 

Sarah would even bring you drawings every week that you would keep in your locker. You’d admire each and every one of the drawings, even if you couldn’t really tell what they were.

You’d grown fond of the little girl in the past two months you had been treating her. You were also relatively close to her parents, who were probably the kindest people you’ve ever encountered. It made sense that Sarah was the ball of sunshine she was, she obviously got it from her parents.

Most times, parents were on edge and extremely short-tempered. If parents saw you often, that meant that their child was diagnosed with some form of cancer. Understandably, they would be rather hostile whilst interacting with you, but you never took their behavior personally. 

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If you were in their shoes, you were positive that you wouldn’t be very friendly either. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You had grown fond of the beaming child. You were aware that growing emotionally attached to patients was unprofessional, but how could you not? 

You adored children and for that very reason, you had chosen a specialty that allowed you to help kids as much as medicine would allow. You always had a soft spot for kids and you found joy in helping them as best as you possibly could.

Sarah had a very good chance at pulling through. With consistent treatment and her young age, her survival rate was around 68%. Those were considerably good odds in these circumstances. Not to mention, the chemotherapy seemed to be paying off. At the rate she was improving, she was predicted to be out of the woods soon enough.

However, the child had developed a bacterial infection. Since she had been receiving chemotherapy, the treatment had damaged her white blood cells which are responsible for fighting off infections. 

All you could do was provide antibiotics to try and fight off the infection. You had monitored her for some time in hopes of seeing any sign of improvement, but unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. Her immune system was extremely vulnerable and there wasn’t any way to reverse the damage. 

Your heart was torn to pieces when you delivered the news to her parents. They broke down in the hallway outside of Sarah’s room as you informed them of Sarah’s rapidly shortened life expectancy. It was only a matter of time before the young child would pass and honestly, this was what you hated most about your job.

You hated that you couldn’t help every single patient. You hated how cruel the world could be to take away an innocent child from their loving parents. 

You allowed her parents to spend time by her bedside. They laid on either side of her bed, clinging onto her for dear life. What broke you the most was the paleness of Sarah’s once glowing skin. Her smile was still present but didn’t quite reach her eyes like it used to. 

Her parents quietly sang ‘Love Is An Open Door’ to Sarah. You felt your heart clench in a bittersweet way as you silently watched. Normally, Sarah wouldn’t hesitate to join in, but her lack of breath prevented her from doing so. All she could do was close her eyes and lightly nod her head along to their voices. 

Sarah passed hours later and it was an extremely somber experience. Hearing the cries of parents who lost their children wasn’t easy and it never would be. Your job had its pros and cons, and this was the biggest negative.

You fought back your own tears as you exited the room, giving the two mourning parents some privacy after you recorded Sarah’s time of death. You found the nearest restroom and allowed the tears to fall down your face. 

A pure soul had been ripped away from the world, never having the chance to experience the great things life had to offer.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

4 Hours Later

You trudged into your loft, immediately taking off your coat and hanging it up before tossing your keys on the small table by the front door. 

Your girlfriend, Natasha, had heard your arrival and quickly exited the bedroom to greet you, a wide smile on her face. However, her smile fell when she noticed your defeated state. 

Your shoulders were slumped as you slouched slightly and your eyes were dripping with sadness. 

“Honey? What’s wrong?” Natasha approached you while you stood frozen in front of the door. Her hands came up to cup your cheeks as she stared at you in concern, her eyes scanning over your features. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I lost Sarah.” 

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Natasha’s eyes widened and her heart sunk at your words. She was aware of how much you adored the two-year-old. Once a week, you would rave about the child and how adorable she was at the dinner table. You would go on and on about how Sarah would sing to you, draw pictures for you, and bring along stickers to place onto your coat.

The redhead loved how happy you looked whenever you spoke about any of your patients, but most especially Sarah. It brought Natasha some joy of her own to see you speak animatedly about Sarah; your happiness was her happiness. 

So, the news hurt her almost as much as it hurt her. She knew how much you loved Sarah, despite never saying it straight out.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I know how much you cared about her. Are you okay?” Natasha’s voice was oozing with sympathy. You couldn’t help but feel irritated by her question. 

You tore her hands off of your cheeks and walked past her and into the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of water as the redhead watched you intently. 

“Am I okay? I’m fine! It’s not like I lost an extremely young patient today or anything. What kind of stupid fucking question is that, Natasha?” You took a sip of cold water to try and calm yourself damn, but your attempt was futile. 

The redhead made her way into the kitchen, standing on the opposite side of the island as you took another sip of water, eyes burning a hole into her head over the rim of the glass. 

“I know, that was a dumb question. I just want to help you, Y/N/N.” Natasha remained calm and patient as she spoke to you. She was no stranger to the loss of a person she desperately tried to save and knew all too well the sadness and anger that accompanied the tragedy. She was an Avenger, after all. 

“I don’t want your help and I don’t need you!” You slammed your cup onto the counter as you raised your voice. Honestly, it was surprising that you hadn’t shattered the glass with the amount of force you exerted. 

Natasha felt an ache in her chest as you yelled at her. She knew that you weren’t in the right state of mind and didn’t take it personally, but that didn’t make your words hurt any less. 

“You save entire cities and I can’t even save a single fucking person!” You were turning red at this point, tears of frustration streaming down your face. The redhead hated seeing you cry, but she knew better than to approach you at this moment. 

“Babe, you save so many pe-” Natasha’s tried to speak, but you quickly interjected. 

“If you’re going to try and spew some philosophical bullshit to me right now, I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear another god damn word from your mouth.”

The redhead looked down defeatedly. She had never seen you so upset, let alone direct your frustrations towards her. Her eyes fell down to the marble counter between you both before looking up at you. You were breathing heavily, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to catch your breath. 

Without another word, Natasha retreated back to the bedroom, shutting the door softly behind her. You watched her until she was out of your view and let out a sigh. Your hands gripped the edges of the kitchen island, supporting your weight as you shut your eyes. 

You brought a hand up to your face and pinched the bridge of your nose. After a few minutes, you made your way into the living room, chucking off your shoes before collapsing onto the couch. You didn’t feel like interacting with Natasha anymore tonight, knowing that you most likely wouldn’t be able to control your temper. 

You were just so fed up with the painful losses you had to endure from your profession. 

You knew that being a doctor was more dark clouds and thunder, than sunshine and rainbows, but you just wished that for once, the weather forecast would work in your favor. 

The emotional day had finally caught up to you. Your body relaxed as you sunk further into the couch, eyes fluttering shut as you succumbed to a much-needed slumber. 

Unbeknownst to you, Natasha was still awake. She laid flat on her back and stared up at the ceiling in thought. She was mad at you, as much as she didn’t want to be. Natasha had gone through the same thing and never lost her cool with you as you had with her. 

The redhead calmed down slowly, turning on her side and facing the empty space beside her which you normally occupied. She reached one arm out, her skin colliding with cool sheets, already missing the warmth of your body. 

Natasha hated sleeping without you by her side, She didn’t feel complete when you weren’t steadily sleeping next to her, your arms wrapped around her body. However, she hoped that things would improve in the morning.

And with that thought in mind, she drifted off into a dreamless sleep, clutching the sheets firmly in her hand. 

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

 The Next Morning

You awoke to a blinding light, the morning sun shining through the windows and landing directly onto your face. You let out a groan and slowly sat up, stretching out your limbs with a groan. The couch wasn’t the most comfortable place to sleep, you were aching everywhere. 

You sat there for a moment as the events of the day before caught up to you. Not only had you lost Sarah, but you upset Natasha. You immediately felt guilty as you recalled the harsh words you spat at her in a fit of rage. You felt like a complete asshole, and rightfully so. 

You quickly stood up and entered the kitchen, retrieving some bacon from the freezer and eggs from the refrigerator. You grabbed two separate pans and washed your hands, making sure to get the coffee pot running before you began cooking.

Your girlfriend absolutely loved bacon, eggs, and coffee. She described the combinations as a ‘party in her mouth.’ So, this was going to be an ‘i’m sorry for being a bitch last night’ apology breakfast. 

You got started on the meal and by the time you finished up and had the stove off, Natasha stalked out of the bedroom slowly. She eyed you carefully as she approached, you sent a soft smile her way.

“You made breakfast,” Natasha spoke and you shyly nodded your head. You moved away from the stove and rounded the counter. The redhead stood in her spot as you wrapped your arms around her waist, her arms reflexively going around your neck.

“I was an asshole last night.” You stated and your girlfriend nodded her head in agreement. “Yeah, you were a total pain in the ass, the absolute worst.” You rolled your eyes at Natasha’s teasing tone.

“I’m sorry for how I behaved. I was just so upset about… Sarah. I didn’t mean to take it out on you and I can’t even begin to tell you how bad I feel for yelling at you when all you wanted to do was help me.”

Your voice was full of emotion, your eyes boring into her emerald irises as you poured your heart into every syllable you uttered. Natasha smile gently at you, her fingers lightly tugging on the baby hairs on the nape of your neck. 

“It’s okay. I know you weren’t mad at me.” You let out a sigh of relief as the redhead stared at you softly. She let out a small chuckle at your dramatics before continuing.

‘I understand how you feel. The team and I, we try our very best to save as many civilians as we can, but sometimes it’s completely out of our control. It’s the exact same situation.” 

One of Natasha’s hands found its way to your cheek, gently cupping the skin as you leaned into her touch. You were listening intently to her every word, mesmerized by the calming rasp of her voice.

“Don’t dwell on what you couldn’t do, but give yourself some credit for everything you did do. I may not know what happened, but what I do know is that you tried everything you could, no?”

Natasha questioned you and you nodded your head. “I gave her antibiotics to fight the infection, but it was too severe.” The redhead rubbed her thumb against your cheek. 

“All that matters is that you did your best and that’s all anyone could ever ask for.” Natasha ended her little speech as she placed a soft kiss on the tip of your nose. You couldn’t help but smile, an overwhelming feeling of happiness taking over. 

“Thank you. I love you and your… what was it?” You furrowed your eyebrows in concentration before your face lit up. Natasha raised an eyebrow at you. “Philosophical bullshit. That was the words.” The Russian let out a laugh, shaking her head from side to side at your antics. 

“Seriously though, I’m so grateful for you. You’re so amazing to me even when I don’t deserve it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Natasha’s laughter died down as your tone turned serious. Your eyes were so full of love and adoration as you stared into her eyes deeply. 

“Well, let’s hope you never have to find out.” Natasha smiled once more and you couldn’t resist pressing your lips against her plump ones. Your mouths moved in tandem at a slow pace, enjoying the rawness and love that accompanied each movement. 

You broke the kiss when air became an issue. Nat’s eyes fluttered open as you wiggled your eyebrows at her playfully. 

“So, are you ready for some breakfast? Maybe after we eat, we can go on top of a rooftop and I’ll serenade you with a rendition of ‘Sorry’ by Justin Bieber.”

Natasha’s head flew back as she laughed uncontrollably at your words. “What? Do you not like the Biebs? If you want, I could play ‘Baby Come Back’ by Player from a boombox and hold it over my head, instead.” The redhead continued to laugh profusely and you soon joined in. Your arms tightened around her waist as your giggles subsided. 

“I think cuddling on the couch and watching the Kardashians eating ridiculously large bowls of salad will do.” You nodded your head in agreement but didn’t make a move to release Natasha from your grip. She didn’t let go either. 

The two of you just stood there, basking in each other’s embrace, a comfortable silence falling over you both. 

Natasha never failed to say the right things to pull you out of the dark abyss that was your mind. She was completely right, as always. There would always be bad days, patients who were progressing one day and deteriorating the next. 

However, there were also good days, and you shouldn’t allow the bad to overshadow all the good you’ve done. Like with Natasha, she wasn’t always the superhero she is today. She took her dark past and turned it into a bright future. 

Nat didn’t let her bad days define her and neither should you.

Of course, you would always remember every single patient you had lost, but now, you would take the pain and turn it into motivation; motivation to improve yourself, not only in your professional life but in your personal life as well. 

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You would do right by the ones you’ve lost and the one who stuck by your side; Natasha Romanoff. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

───────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

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[littlepadika]

Calling Home (1) | Frankie Morales x Reader

Summary: You are a receptionist at the VA. Frankie Morales keeps calling. Yearning ensues...

Rating: M -> E in later chapters

Warnings: fem!reader, age gap (legal), praise kink, voice kink, discussion of addiction/PTSD/trauma, no use of y/n, no beta reader, reader is bad at Spanish, Frankie has a sexy voice 😩

Masterlist here

AN: My first fic. Pedro writers have inspired me to finally start writing again 🥺. Concept inspired by the movie RED. I hope you like it ❤️Set after triple frontier.

Chapter One

~~~~~~~~~~~

The first time he called was an ordinary Thursday.

“Veterans Affairs, how can I help you?”

You had been working at the VA office for about two weeks. Fresh out of college you felt lucky to have a job in the first place. You went to school to be a writer but your big idea for 'The Next Great American Novel' had yet to present itself. At least here you had access to the most inspiring stories and interesting people. Men and women who had seen more and done more than you probably would in your entire life. You loved talking to clients on the phone. It was weird but something about only being able to hear people’s voices excited you. You would sometimes write little stories in your head about the people you'd talk to, filling in the details that were unknown.

Your desk accessories reflected your love of books and writing. You had your growing collection of books sitting on your desk sandwiched between baby pink bookends. Next to them was a matching desk organizer filled with your favorite sparkly pens and sticky notes. You had decorated the plain cubicle walls with posters of quotes from your favorite books. You also brought your favorite candle from home. Even though you couldn’t light it you still liked to lift it to your nose once and a while and smell it between chapters. When you weren’t on the phone or scanning documents you would read. You finished To Kill A Mockingbird in your first week on the job and were now halfway through Murder on the Orient Express.

You were starting a new chapter when Frankie Morales called the first time.

You picked up the phone on the second ring already mustering your chipper 'customer service' voice. “Veterans affairs.” You stated your name. “How may I help you?”

“H-Hi. My name is Frankie- uh-Francisco Morales." A deep voice answered you. "I’m calling because I have gotten my benefits check yet. It’s been a month. I was hoping you could tell me if it got sent?”

“Okay Mr. Morales." You flipped on the computer. "Let me check. Can you spell your last name for me?”

“M-o-r-a-l-e-s”

“Okay... let's see.” You clicked on his account. You were momentarily distracted by his picture likely taken when he graduated basic if you had to guess based off the uniform. He looked sweet. Sharp nose and strong jaw balanced by kind eyes and a shy smile. You could imagine how age would continue to soften his expression making him even more handsome. The image was a strange juxtaposition to the voice you were hearing on the phone which was much deeper and rougher. His profile said he was special forces. A pilot. The rest of the information was blacked out. Something you were used to seeing on many people's accounts but even his years of service were redacted. He must have been involved in some dangerous stuff, you thought to yourself. The dates that were not redacted were mostly in Latin America. You clicked over to processing requests. “Looks like the check got sent one week ago.” You informed him.

"I'll look again but I haven't seen anything-" It sounded like he was apologizing when clearly it was not his fault.

"No no. It's probably a mistake on our end." You interrupted. With how shitty and outdated the payroll interface was you wouldn't be surprised if there was a mix up. "I’ll go ahead and let payroll know to send another."

"Great. Thanks." He replied sounding relieved. The roughness in his voice gave way to a smooth baritone.

“No problem. I'm sorry for any inconvenience it may have caused. We'll get it sent right away." You hoped he was not relying on this benefit check for anything important. While you could promise you'd fix the problem, the administration was notoriously slow. When he didn't respond you asked, "Is there anything else I can help you with today, Mr. Morales?”

“Uh-no" The roughness back in place. "Thank you." He paused before adding your name onto his thank you which made you smile. People usually never remembered your name.

“Alright. Have a nice day and thank you for your service.” You chirped before hanging up. The smile he put on your face lingered for a few minutes as you returned to your book.

The next time he called was exactly twelve days later.

“Veterans affairs” you answered, your routine greeting cut short as your eyes were still on your book.

“Hi- I’m calling because uh I still haven’t gotten my benefits check. This is Frankie Morales.”

“Oh Mr. Morales.” You recognized his voice even before he even said his name. You quickly shut your book, pushing your hair out of your face. Had you been thinking about him? No! Okay maybe you stared at his picture for a few minutes longer after he hung up. Yes, it was probably very unprofessional but you couldn't fight the curiosity. You were trying to rationalize the contrasting sharpness and softness of his features with his voice. How it all worked together. How one person's voice could change textures and colors so easily. You wondered what kind of things this man might have seen on the job. Most of the veterans you would help day to day did not have so many redacted missions and deployments. You were in the middle of Narcos season one so you immediately thought of drugs or something equally dangerous. After much pondering, you had come to the conclusion that Frankie Morales was both insanely attractive and insanely courageous. “Still no check, huh?”

“Nope.” He sighed the sound making the phone's shitty speaker crackle as you held it to your ear.

“Let me just check that it was approved...“ you found his profile again and scrolled to the status page. “Hmm... it says it was sent out last Friday after we spoke. That’s so weird...”

“Yeah. Really weird.” He echoed your frustration on the other end.

Typical payroll, you thought to yourself as you rolled your eyes. “I'll get another one sent to you right away. I'll see to it myself.” You tucked the phone under your chin and typed out a short email to Mary in payroll letting her know you'd be stopping by her office to explain the situation. You realized he hadn't hung up yet.

“Sorry for the back and forth.” You said, trying to fill the silence.

“It’s not your fault." The earlier irritation gone. "You’ve been really helpful.” His voice sounded warm and reassuring. Less gruff than it was last you spoke. Instead it was that rich baritone that you caught of glimpse of last time.

You feel your face warm at his compliment. It was this annoying reflex you had. Praise always made you blush no matter what context but it was worse when it came from a (you assume) gorgeous stranger.

“And just to verify that your address is correct- you’re on Maple Lane in Miami, Florida?”

“That’s right.” He confirmed.

“Okay. Sent!” You clicked send on the email, which caused the window to close and reveal Frankie’s profile page again. “I was curious-" You spoke before you really made the decision to speak. You didn’t want to overstep but once again your curiosity got the better of you. Honestly, you were just searching for a way to keep him on the phone. The day had been so boring.

“Your profile says you were stationed in Costa Rica.”

“For a bit.” He replied after a moment. He didn’t sound too defensive but there was definitely some tightness in his answer that made you feel bad for asking. Like you were scratching a wound.

“Did you like it? The country I mean.”

“Are you planning a trip?” He sounds a little amused.

“Yeah- well- kind of. It's more a trip in my head right now. I’d like to go there one day. It looks so beautiful.” You sighed closing your eyes trying to imagine the heat on your skin.

“It is." He agrees. "Really humid though.”

“Mm that sounds nice.” You would kill for some warm weather after such a long winter in DC.

“It was too muggy for me at times." He grumbled. "If you do go, stick to the costal areas where it’s more breezy or else you’ll just be sweating the whole time.”

“I don’t mind a little sweat” you shrugged, still thinking of the awful east coast winter you were currently suffering through. The sexual connotation of what you said hit you hard as soon as you heard the statement in its entirety. You felt your face flush again, though the man on the other end would never know.

“I’m learning Spanish!" You announced loudly trying to move the conversation past your awkwardness.

“Wow. Muy impressivo.”

“Si” you replied but after a moment you admit “I don’t really know what you said.”

Frankie laughed loudly on the other end and you couldn’t help but join in, drawing dirty looks from the elderly lady, Donna, working in the cubicle across from you. You ducked your head behind a stack of papers to avoid her glare.

“Fake it till you make it.” He chuckled.

“Maybe you should help me out.” You took on an indigent but still playful tone. “You sound better than duolingo” Your smile widened when he laughed again. His laugh was what you hoped it would be, by all your assumptions from his picture. It was an unencumbered, unburdened, rich sound with only a hit of roughness from the air behind it.

“Tell me you’re not using that dumb app to learn.” he scoffed, saying your name in an almost scolding tone.

“I’m got my thirty day streak today.” You boasted.

“You’ll be a total tourist if you go by duolingo.”

“But the owl is so cute every time I get something right!” You argued your voice taking on a more childish cadence.

“That’s how they trap you, silly girl.” He teased right back. Usually such a condescending nickname would piss you off but something about the affection behind him using it made you feel very differently. You felt warm like you were proud to be silly as long as it made him laugh.

“Then you saved me just in time, Mr. Morales.” You bit your lip. His scoffing and laughter died down on the other end.

“Frankie” He corrects you.

“Frankie…” You repeated it, smiling at how well the nick name suited the voice over the phone. Honest, sincere, and not pretentious at all. Way better than the pompous guys you know with equally stuffy names like “Edward” and “Christopher.”

“So what do you want to know?” Frankie interrupted your thoughts. “Dime”

You started asking him questions in Spanish to the best of your ability. Granted they weren't particularly probing questions. What is your name? What is your favorite color? What is your favorite animal? What's your favorite book? I am reading Gone Girl. He answered them all with patience and amusement, occasionally interrupting you to correct your pronunciation or explain what a word meant. Every time you’d repeat the word back correctly he would say something like “good” or “there you go” or “you got it”. You hated to admit that his kind words and his praise was doing something to you. You didn't even realize you were clenching your legs together unconsciously, almost in anticipation of his next correction or next answer. His low voice so sweet and encouraging against your ear, more tangible when he was speaking Spanish. You just wanted to hear more of it. Would it be this sweet in other situations? Would it get huskier or rougher? If you closed your eyes it was like he was sitting right next to you. It would be all too easy to slip into that daydream and escape the dull office.

Suddenly out of the corner of your drooping eyes you saw a flashing red light on the phone console meaning another caller was waiting.

“Shoot- i’m sorry, Frankie- I have to take this call.” You shot forward in your chair, legs uncrossing.

“Of-Of course. I should let you get back to work.” He sounded a little sad or so you hoped. You felt bad for interrupting him after you both were having so much fun. You wanted to say he could wait on hold but he killed that idea when he said, "I have work too. Technically I'm five minutes past my lunch break."

Your pout turned to a smile. He was spending his precious lunch break with you? Get a grip! you snapped at yourself.

“You’re welcome to call again if you want.” You threw out the offer in a small voice, scared you would be rejected. You peered over the cubicle wall to see if you were still being glared at. Thankfully Donna was away from her desk. Probably out for a smoke. “It’s really boring here and usually no one calls.”

“Maybe I will.” He replied and you could hear the smile behind those words. You felt your heart clench weirdly in your chest like it didn't know how to process the sudden spike in emotions.

“Bye, Frankie.” You beamed.

“Bye”

This time the smile on your face lasted for hours. Frankie’s laugh echoed around in your head, taunting you, sending your mind to the gutter. His voice went from grit to molasses on a dime. You wanted to be the one to bring out those sounds. You wanted to hear his voice bend and stretch and strain as you fucked him. What the hell is wrong with me? you screamed internally. You had never been so depraved and with a stranger no less! You clearly needed to get laid fast because this much yearning would not end well.

Frankie got the second VA check a few days later and this time he didn’t even feel bad about ripping it in half. He was already reaching for the phone to call you.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags: Message to be added 💕 no minors please!

[noteguk]

i was wondering how bad influence! jk and oc started interacting? like what made them start talking

[ ! ] this dabble is a prequel to “bad influence”

— words; 1.6k

~

Your professor was looking at you with expectation, the small piece of paper hanging between his fingers like the sword of Damocles over your head. You were staring at him in silence for a few seconds now, and the whole situation was starting to get awkward. 

“So,” he pressed on, dangling the paper in front of your eyes. On it, the name and phone number of one of your classmates. “What do you say?” 

When he asked you to stay after class, you expected it would be something related to tutoring. Your professor had mentioned it in passing a few times before, so it wasn’t exactly a surprise when he told you he had found you someone who really needed your assistance. You were beaming with joy for precisely a minute and twenty one seconds until he revealed the name of your student. 

Jeon Jungkook. 

Before you had any chance to muster an excuse for why you couldn’t — under any circumstance — get close to someone like that, even less tutor him, your professor already had his card up his sleeve. “It’ll be good for your curriculum.” 

And you said yes in a heartbeat. 

~

Jungkook was predictable. You knew that he would be late (after all, his cringy bad boy persona would never allow him to follow one single rule in his life), you just didn’t know it would be almost two-hours-late. By the point that you saw that hurricane in human form walking into the library, you had already finished your homework for the entire week. 

He had the nerve to smirk at you, and you swore an oath to yourself that you wouldn’t present him with the irritation he was expecting. And you didn’t — with all the patience and kind-heartedness that your parents had pushed down your throat your entire life, you put on your best commercial smile and greeted him like he was just in time. 

“Well, now that you’re here, let’s start with the basics and go over some defense cells.” You tugged the heavy Immunology book towards you, quickly flipping the pages towards the chapter that you had chosen for that first session. Jungkook had already taken his typical slouched position on the chair next to you, looking like he was about to slide down to the carpeted floor. “I’d like to know how familiar you are with it, though. Can you start by telling me about the types of lymphocytes?” 

He chuckled, running one hand through his hair. “I have no idea what that shit is.”

You took a deep breath and ignored the irritation that was building up on your stomach. You didn’t know how someone could be so indifferent about everything. “Well... that’s why I’m here,” you managed to keep your voice cheerful. 

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re here because you wanna get paid, princess. No need to play the Good Samaritan.”

You thought about telling him that you weren’t getting paid, but the idea wasn’t the best one. He’d probably mock you even more for wasting your Friday afternoon tutoring in the name of your curriculum. Not that he knew the importance of that, anyways. 

“This is some bullshit.” Jungkook rested his head on his crossed arms, lying over the table, pushing away your pens and notebooks as he did so. His black hair fell over his features as he grouchily mumbled out, “I don’t even know why I chose this class, it has nothing to do with my major.”

You were surprised that he was even majoring in something, instead of just frequenting the campus as an excuse to meet girls. “Well, I can't answer that for you, can I?” You asked, tapping on his book’s hardcover. That little antibody drawing was staring at you in a silent mockery, wondering if you’d be able to make him study — or even care about anything. “But I can help you with the rest. Now, come on. Types of lymphocytes.”

His eyebrows came down to form a confused frown. Jungkook would’ve probably given you the same reaction if you had just called his mother all the filthy names you could think of. “You’re really trying to teach me?” He asked. “Like, for real?” 

You sighed. The time you taught your little cousin how to read was less frustrating than that. “It’s kind of my job as a tutor, you know.”

Jungkook rose from his position and leaned back against the chair, his arms crossing before his chest. Beneath them, his strong pecs stressed against the fabric of his white shirt, but you refused to look. “You know that you can just pretend to teach me, I can pretend to learn, and you’re gonna get your credits anyways, right?” He asked as if you were the stupidest person he had ever met. “You don’t need to actually put in the effort, princess. Especially since I don’t give any fucks about immunology.” 

If he called you that stupid pet name one more time, you swore you were going to knock him out. “Well, I’m already here, I’d rather do things right.”

He scoffed, throwing his head back and rolling his eyes. “God, you’re so booooring,” he groaned. “Don't you have some charity work to do or something?” 

“I’m doing it right now.” You smiled. “I can see that you’re really trying to fail this class, don’t get me wrong. But I’m just trying to do my job—“

“Boooooring,” he sang, louder than the librarian would ever allow if she was close enough to hear him. Jungkook looked back at you, his eyes narrowed. You couldn’t really tell if he was disgusted or just annoyed. “Why do you even care? It’s just some stupid class, it doesn’t even matter. I’ll tell the professor you taught me everything and we can both go home.” 

“I can’t do that,” you said, firm. 

“Why not?” 

“First of all, because that’s wrong,” you told him. Just as you were about to say that, also, his unavoidable horrible grades would make clear that he hadn’t learned shit (which would make you look like a clown instead of a tutor), his laugh ruptured your sentence. 

“Oh, come on. You’re kidding me.” He smiled brightly — not a tender one, of course, but one full of perverse mockery. You had never met someone as condescending as Jungkook, and he was managing to push every single button inside you. “That’s wrong? What are you, six?” 

You frowned. “You’re the child here, just trying to find a easy way out instead of putting in the eff—“ 

“What are your dreams, princess?” He interrupted again, leaning his head to the side. You really, really, really hated him. “Wait, no, let me guess. A family, a suburban house, and a dog? A nine to five? Something like that? Having your husband cheat with the babysitter before you’re forty?”

Some part of you knew that he was just trying to make you so angry that you would give up on tutoring him. Jungkook didn’t know that you wouldn’t throw away your obligations so quickly, but he was able to make you mad enough to get an answer. “What are yours?” you spat, kindness long forgotten. “Remaining unemployed, talentless, mentally trapped in your twenties, and fucking desperate milfs for money until you die from an early overdose?” 

If your priest had heard you talk like that, he would most surely faint. 

Jungkook, however, didn’t seem so horrified. In fact, his disgusted smile quickly morphed into a diverted one, a chuckle leaving his lips. “Uh,” he mumbled. “Interesting.”

The shame from your previous outburst was starting to weigh down on you, but you managed to keep it undercover. “What?” 

“Didn’t know you had a mouth on you,” he said, clearly entertained. In a way, you were glad that he hadn’t taken your words to heart, because he could probably snap you in half if he was feeling like it. “You’re always so shy and shit. I thought you were going to cry.” 

“I’m not shy,” you spoke, defensive. You had gotten close to shedding a couple tears, but he didn’t need to know that. You hated confrontation. “I just don’t wanna talk to people like you unless I’m obligated to.” 

He raised his eyebrows — a silent threat. “People like me?”

There was a second of hesitation from your part that Jungkook didn’t miss. “Yes.” You couldn’t hold his piercing gaze. As much as Jungkook was annoying the shit out of you, you didn’t actually want to have a full-blown argument with him. Especially on university grounds. “People who can’t even tell me about lymphocytes. Now, are you done with your victimization session? Can we start, or do you wanna tell me more about how you’re burning college money and you are so superior because of it?” 

He chuckled and looked you up and down — actually looked at you. Weirdly enough, it felt like the first time that Jungkook was actually seeing you, and not the empty shell of a stereotype that he had built for you in his peanut-sized brain. “You’re really trying here, aren’t you?” He asked. 

You didn’t know if he was talking about the tutoring session anymore, but you decided not to bite. “Is that a sin now?” And, before he could say anything else, you added, “Page 124. Come on. Unlike you, I don’t have all day to sit around doing nothing.” 

He smirked. “You’re more fun than you look, princess.” 

And, for the first time, Jeon Jungkook wasn’t predictable — he actually opened the book on the page you told him to. 

~

One hour later, he was already dozing off, a small puddle of saliva accumulating on top of his chaotic notes. Still, you counted that as a victory. 

~

BAD INFLUENCE COLLECTION

[cinnamonest]

Yandere Kaeya Alberich

Words: 3,162

Tws: General yandere content, Kaeya being a dick

Summary: You’ve been trying to avoid the Favonius captain. He’s convinced you’re unsafe without him. If you don’t believe that, he’ll prove it to you.

"Traveler."

Your muscles tensed. The hairs on your skin raised up. How?

You turned your head towards the voice, a strained smile across your face. "Captain Kaeya!" You pushed with all your effort to make your voice sound pleasantly surprised, excited, sing-songy in the way anyone who knew you would expect upon being greeted with a familiar face. "What are you doing so far out?" You said it so very playfully, casually, as if it was a casual conversation maker and not a genuine question that burned in your mind.

What the hell was he doing so far out of his jurisdiction? What need does he have to be out all the way in Liyue?

Why did he have to show up when you specifically went out of your way to avoid him?

"Oh, I was looking for you. Asked around. Heard you were hanging around the area," He said, pulling out a chair and sitting in front of you, effectively cornering you in your little spot in the corner of the small tavern. He smiled, folding his hands together and resting his chin on them. "I just sent a couple knights out to look for you."

He made no effort to even try to hide it. He was completely shameless. That explained the Favonius knight that had appeared in the tavern earlier - you'd felt uneasy as you saw the man gaze around, halting when he made eye contact with you, before abruptly stepping out as quickly as he'd come in. You should have trusted your gut and left as soon as you could - but here you were.

When you'd first met Kaeya, you'd admired the young captain. He was brave, skilled, charming, and undeniably a very attractive man. His charisma made him a well-respected, well-liked person throughout Mondstadt, even if his reputation did include an arrogance that was just as well-known as his skill.

That was the issue - you'd noticed that trait, that one characteristic about the man that made you uneasy, that upset you so greatly that you had resolved to avoid him entirely. Well, three traits.

One, he was obsessive, clingy, attached to a degree far too unnatural for someone who had known you for such a short time.

Two, Kaeya was a little overly touchy. It was just on the border of your discomfort, too noticeable for you to feel okay with it, but too mild to feel justified in confronting him about it. Everywhere you went with him, you could always feel his hands somewhere on your person.

And three, Kaeya was perhaps the most condescending, self-righteous person you'd ever met. He was always, always right. You never knew what you were talking about. He always knew better. He was always smarter, you were always dumber. Or so he seemed to believe. You'd grown to be increasingly irked, insulted whenever he would treat you like some naive idiot, reminding you how you, some foreigner, had no grasp on reality in this world. Really, you were hopeless, you really should let him stay by your side, help your poor naive little self navigate the world, since you were so incapable on your own.

"Oh," you finally responded, snapping out of your thoughts, smile straining, trying to come up with some response to the utterly creepy truth he'd been so shameless to reveal. "Yeah, I came out here for a few days. Really, uh, pretty area."

"Mm. That it is. This place attracts a good deal of tourists," he tilted his head. "The route here is... Particularly dangerous, though. You didn't travel here all by yourself, did you?" His eye contact was unwavering, and you found yourself breaking away, opting to gaze downward. "Or were you... Accompanied?"

"Ah, I came here by myself," you answered. "I didn't encounter any dangers... Outside a few hilichurls."

"Hilichurls are responsible for quite a few deaths in the area. You shouldn't underestimate them," he remarked. "Really, that's an unwise decision, coming here alone... You really should have sought some protection."

"Oh, I'm pretty good with a sword. I can take care of myself."

He laughed, shaking his head. "Is that so?" His voice was amused. Condescending. As if you were a child, some little kid insisting on your competence. "I'm sure you'd fare well, if you found yourself surrounded by them. Or worse," his voice darkened, "some... Other forces. Plenty of bandits and other criminals walk the roads in the Mondstat region."

Isn't it your and your knights' job to deal with that?

"O-oh, I see. Well, it's a good thing I didn't run across any of those..."

"Yes, it is." The blunt statement left you feeling your stomach churn with awkward silence that followed. The undertone - the clear hint of frustration - of his voice made you shiver. "They could easily catch you off guard..."

You'd left Mondstadt almost solely to get away from him for a few days. You needed some respite. The irritation in you boiled over ever so slightly. "It's ok, I'm pretty sharp. I'm always on guard."

Since meeting him, Kaeya had been attached to you virtually every waking moment of the day - no, he insisted on being near when you slept, too. On the very day of your arrival, he'd insisted you sleep in the knight headquarters, despite how many times you repeated that an inn was perfectly suitable. It was safer, he claimed. Safest in the little spare room just down the hall from his own, where he could come check on you before you settled down for the night. The first time, you'd been startled, flushing as he stood in your door frame, thinking that the moment he realized you were barely clothed in your sleeping gown, he'd surely get flustered and leave, but he didn't, opting to talk to you for several minutes before turning away. That experience had been... uncomfortable.

He'd been everywhere you were, both inside of Mondstadt and, albeit a bit less, in the wilderness. You weren't even sure how he kept appearing exactly wherever you were - you'd be minding your own business, and a knight of Favonius would appear in your line of sight - soon after, Kaeya would always appear. No matter what time of day, no matter how far out you were, no matter what you wore or who you were with. Even if you had other people in a party with you, he insisted on showing up, as he claimed, for your safety. Sure, you had other companions that could try to guard you, but really, were they any valid comparison for a swordsman of his caliber?

You didn't need them, he could easily be more than enough, surpass any other companions you could take with you.

"Excuse me miss," a waitress approached. Oh no. "Did you and your friend need anything else?"

You knew what was coming, but he moved to speak before you could, snapping his head towards the woman. "No. Could you kindly leave us alone?"

The poor girl's eyes widened. "O-of course. My apologies." She quickly scurried off.

You'd never seen him be anything short of rude, even downright nasty, towards anyone that entered his presence. Somehow, you felt that he likely wasn't like that when it was just him - he was too clearly well-liked to be so rude all the time.

"Anyhow," he turned back to you, "I came here primarily to fetch you... Extremely important matters happening back in Mondstadt. That bard is looking for you. Something about Stormterror?"

Oh. That changed things.

"Something's wrong with him?"

"Mhm. Apparently so, but I don't have any details. Your assistance is needed immediately, apparently. Come," he smiled again, rising and extending his hand, "I'll take you back."

It shouldn't bother you - you should be grateful. You should simply sigh, and acknowledge that even if he was clingy, even if he was unnecessarily protective, there was nothing wrong here, there was nothing about the situation that should give you the feeling that it did.

It was a weight in your stomach, a twisting in your gut. Something instinctive, something in your deepest, most primal senses, was set off, a chill seeping through your blood. An innate sense in your very core that directed your actions, told you to get away.

But your trained sense of social decency rejected such an idea. He was being gracious, kind, helpful, and although he might put you at unease sometimes, Kaeya was known for being an upstanding person. And besides, logically, someone who seemed to like you so much wouldn't do anything to harm you.

You realized that you had frozen in place, briefly lost in your thoughts. He cocked his head. "Something the matter...?"

"N-no! No, I'm fine, I'm coming," you stood hurriedly, pushing the chair back as you did. "Thank you, Captain Kaeya."

He hummed in approval. "Of course. What kind of knight would I be, letting a defenseless girl wander back alone?" He paused. "I'll always protect you, so long as you actually bother to tell me when you plan to disappear." Despite his smile, there was an obvious hint of passive aggressive irritation in his voice, and you tried not to cringe in discomfort.

"Oh, aha, I'll be sure to let you know next time."

"I'd appreciate that."

You wondered how you'd apologize next time when you conveniently forgot your promise.

As you exited the little tavern, dropping mora on the bar for the owner, you felt a firm hand on the small of your back, pushing you through the doorframe. The touch made you shiver, and it lingered, like a brand against your skin.

The walk back was lively, you weren't bored with Kaeya to talk to. Even if his conversation was primarily bragging about this or that, telling you all the oh-so-wonderful feats he'd accomplished in his time, it was better than silence, you supposed. You were back to Mondstadt fairly quickly - no hilichurl encounters, although you did briefly run across a few slimes that he insisted on taking down by himself.

"Hey, are you feeling alright?" He stopped in the middle of whatever he had been going on about - honestly, you weren't paying that great of attention. 

"What? I-I'm fine," you responded, eyes wide.

"Really?" he looked at you with something like concern in his uncovered eye, brows furrowing with worry. "You look... a little sick." Suddenly, he pushed the back of his hand against your forehead. "You feel hot, too."

Well, now you did feel warm, his touch leaving a searing feeling on your skin. "A-are you sure? I don't think I'm..."

"No, you're definitely coming down with something." He glanced over in the opposite direction, where the city walls were not too far off. "You probably haven't even realized it yet. I could carry you the rest of the way, if you'd like."

"O-oh, ah, no, that's fine! I can walk... just... fine..." You found yourself trailing off, embarrassment making your face burn. 

"Well, why don't we stop by the Knights' Headquarters before we go to meet that... Venti, was it? We have a nurse there that could see to you."

"I..." you paused. Once again, that dreadful, sickly feeling rose in your stomach. Something telling you that something was wrong.

And again, you pushed it back. "Ok, sure."

He hummed in acknowledgement, swiftly moving towards the gates. "Let's hurry, then. Let me know if you change your mind and want me to carry you." He added a slight smirk to his last sentence. You weren't sure if you found it endearing or irritating.

Once you got back, as expected, Kaeya began directing you to the Knights of Favonius headquarters. And you followed him, all the way in, all the way down the stairs, all the way into the hall -- wait.

You figured perhaps he was absent-mindedly headed that way out of force of habit. "Uh... Kaeya, are you sure we're going the right way? This is..."

The same little tucked-away hallway that your rooms were in. In fact, you were literally coming up on your room.

He stopped, turning his head your way with a soft smile. "No worries. You're really starting to look like the blood is draining from your face... I just figured I can bring the nurse down here." He paused next to your room, then took a step back, motioning his head, as if to tell you to go in. "Just sit down, I'll find her and bring her this way."

The churning was stronger than before. Every hair on your body stood up. Every instinct you had told you something was not right.

Nonetheless, yet again, you didn't listen.

Your feet clicked on the stone floor as you walked through the door. It all occurred so quickly, your mind spun. It felt like a punch to the gut, the air knocked out of you, the impact pain pulsing as your back was slammed into the wall. Strong hands kept a bruising grip on your shoulders. The room spun around you, head dizzy and struggling to process. What snapped you into awareness was a cold, sharp chill pressed right up against your neck, and a firm knee pressed between your legs.

He had you pinned to the wall, sword hovering ever so slightly above the skin on top of your veins. You gasped for air from the impact. "K-Kaeya!" You managed to choke out. You couldn't form anything beyond that. Panic was surging through your body, mind overwhelmed as survival instinct tried and failed to find a quick way to get away.

"What's that?" He pressed his face forward, almost nuzzling it into your neck. You could feel him smirking against your skin. "I believe I remember you saying something about how you couldn't be caught off guard...?" 

You were vaguely aware that you would normally be angry - furious - over whatever was happening here, but primal fear still controlled your brain at the moment, unable to feel anything but panic. You trembled.

"This is what I meant when I said you should be more careful," he muttered. "You think you're so capable and strong, but look at how easily I could trap you... I could kill you, right now, so easily."

Your body shook fiercely. You felt tears begin to gather around your eyes. "I-I just... Trust... You..." Your voice was weak, frail, trembling harder than your body. "You're, you're my, m-my friend..."

"Mm, plenty of people will come along pretending to be your friend, (y/n). You're very, very lucky that I actually do have your best interest in mind." Finally, he lowered the sword from your throat. You released a breath you hadn't realized you were holding in, and you felt your knees give way, stumbling forward, quite literally falling into his arms. He dropped the sword in order to catch you, and it clattered to the ground.

Your shaking hands grasped his arms, fingers digging firmly into his skin, desperate for some sturdy stillness to cling to. There was a moment of silence.

"You see, (y/n)? Think about all the people that wouldn't just be proving a point like I am... All the people that might want to really hurt you... Do awful things to you... Aren't you grateful I'm not like that?" His voice was deeper than its usual tone, and you felt his chest vibrate as he spoke from where your head was pressed against him. It was low yet soft, almost a growl, yet almost a whisper.

You were breathing rapidly, forehead pressed against his chest. You didn't respond.

"I said, aren't you grateful that I don't want to hurt you?"

"Y-yes," you found your voice. You didn't know what else to say.

"And you understand now... You need me. You need me there to protect you from bad people. You're so easy to trick and overpower... So naive... Imagine what could happen if you get into this situation again, but for real... And I'm not there?" He reached one hand up, stroking the back of your head. "Surely, you understand that now, don't you?"

You nodded.

"That's good. I hope you remember that, next time you try to run off." He tsk-ed, tilting his head to rest his chin on top of your head, grip on your shoulder increasing, almost crushing. "Honestly, you should really just be guarded full time. I could probably arrange that."

As you began to calm down, the reality of the situation began to dawn on you. Anger rose in place of the fear. He had the audacity to do something like this, and blame you for trusting him? You wanted to speak up, say something, but that same primal instinct told you it was a bad idea.

This time, you listened. 

He gently shifted, setting you down on the bed. "Now, you really do look sick, truly. Tell you what, I'll just go see that bard in your stead, tell him you couldn't make it. We'll have to just figure something out. I'll tell the nurse to come down here."

"Wh-what?" You started to stand on your shaking legs. "No, I-"

"You really can't be going out," he grabbed your shoulders and firmly pushed you back. "Really. You'll just get worse. Better to recover faster, than prolong your illness, no?"

"I don't feel si-"

"You are sick." Once again, his smile was betrayed by the irritation in his voice. "Don't tell me you don't know about the Mondstadt influenza? No wonder. You're foreign, so you're probably highly susceptible to illnesses you've never encountered."

You'd been given a rundown of local illnesses by Lisa, actually, but didn't recall such a thing. "I've... Never heard -"

"You won't feel symptoms for several days after first showing signs. You're very lucky I'm used to seeing it." He pulled out a watch, eyebrows rising. "Oh, look at that. It's already time to meet the bard. I'll be back in a little bit."

"Wait-" 

"It'll only be a few minutes. I'll be back soon."

"Captain Ka-"

"Get some rest now."

The door shut firmly. You heard his heavy footsteps quickly sprint down the hall.

A nurse never came. Ten minutes passed, half an hour. You thought about trying to go find her yourself. Maybe he was actually being honest. Maybe you were sick. You almost wanted him to be right. You would prefer being sick to the idea that he might be lying to you.

You preferred worrying about being sick to worrying about the implications and meanings of the situation if he was lying to you.

You finally stood, resolving to go find a knight yourself, ask for directions to the nurse. Something. Anything to get your mind away from this, distract yourself from your brain's racing to process what had happened just before.

The metal lock rattled against the wood as you tried and failed, with increasing desperation, increasing heartbeat, increasing rapid breaths, to open the door.

[cazimagines]

Born to be wild - Chapter 4

Synopsis: Joining F1 as one of the first female drivers you knew was going to be a challenge but you weren’t prepared to deal with one particular asshole on the tracks. With the urge to win so strong within each racer, will romance pave the way? Or will it destroy everything?

Word count: 1.7k

Author’s note: To make up for the lack of Niki last chapter, I'm hoping to get these chapters out more regularly!

Warnings: Swearing

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You twirled your spanner in your hand, feeling the harsh metal catch on your skin as it grazed over it. You were eyeing up the car before you, determining all the ways you might improve the machine to your liking. You wore your blue jumpsuit which had already obtained oil stains without even getting near the car yet. Today the garage was empty, most of the crew having the common sense to take a day off unlike you. You knew from driving it that the car needed to be improved and instead of telling your team and risking offending them, you took matters into your own hands. Plus you were just itching to get your hands dirty.

You climbed down onto your knees and then onto your back, pushing yourself under the car to observe the underside. The thing needed a clean, rust and grime underneath it making you grimace but at the moment that wasn’t what you were focused on. You started to loosen a few of the screws in order to access some of the wiring. If you were able to get to the inner part of the engine, you might be able to rewire some of the boosters improving your speed.

As you got to work you were humming to yourself a tune you had heard on the radio this morning and so you didn’t hear the sound of footsteps approaching you. As the top half of your body was under the car, you didn’t notice the man approaching and then leaning on the wall beside you, observing your movements.

“You’re just wrecking the engine.”

A groan left your lips as you heard that Austrian accent ring out across the room, sending a wave of irritation straight through your body. Of course, if anyone would be here during the off day, it would be Niki Lauda and seemingly he was still pissed about the other day and had come over deliberately to test your patience even further.

You grasped a hold of the panelling and thrusted yourself out from under the car to glare up Niki who was looking down at you.

“You really have nothing better to do than come and ruin my day?” you spat out to him.

Niki tilted his head as he observed you, his eyes narrowing for a moment in a way that always made you feel self-conscious as you wanted to know what he was thinking about you.

“I am merely doing you a favour and correcting your mistakes,” he finally revealed, raising his voice in a light hearted manner though you knew it was really cover for his mocking tone. Knowing this, in response you snort, shaking your head at the man as your lips twitch into a smirk.

“Yeah right, like I’d believe that.”

“You don’t trust the word of one of the best drivers?” he asked, his lips dipping down into a frown.

You placed your hands down on the concrete floor and steadily pushed yourself up to your feet so Niki was no longer standing over you, instead you stood face to face with the man.

“I don’t trust the fact that an asshole would want to help me at all, especially with how rude you were to me previously.”

“I was justified in my actions. You made a stupid move,” he stated as if it was obvious.

You groaned again in amazement, throwing up your hands, shaking your head as you spun away from him for a moment, not wanting to even look at him but the pressure to get the last word made you turn back around.

“There it is again, your arrogance is astounding.”

“I am merely stating what happened, I can’t help the fact that you can’t accept the truth.”

“You speak about accepting the truth.” Niki scoffed, looking away in thought, looking perplexed by the mere idea of it. His angry eyes quickly snapped back to your own though when you say the next words. “You can’t accept that there are better drivers than you.”

“What, like you?”

“I could beat you in a race!” you exclaimed without thinking. All you could feel was the anger towards Niki creeping up in your veins again, making you be irrational.

“You didn’t last time.”

“Yeah well, why don’t we test it out again? Just me and you on the track.”

Niki rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his body. “Why would I waste the tires, fuel and risk my life for a petty race?”

“Fine if you want to be a pussy and back out of it...”

You turned your back to Niki to polish the front of the car but you knew that the remark would make him frown at you, his ego damaged. You could feel his eyes burn into your back, his gaze apparently unwavering until after a few minutes of thoughts racing through his mind he came to a decision.

“Fine, if you really want me to prove to you again that I am the better driver,” he states as he quickly turns and walks out of the garage. You run after him to shout out and get the last word,

“You’ll be eating my ass!”

He turned around again at you, briefly a smirk appearing on his thin lips.

“We’ll see.” he shouts back and then saunters into his garage, once again taking the last word.

You weren’t prepared to take the car out and you knew the team would not be happy with you for doing so but Niki made you so mad you had no control over your own decisions. You were irrational and hot-headed around him and now that led to you driving the car out onto the track and waiting for Niki to pull the car up beside you.

Niki sent you one last sarcastic look with a raised eyebrow through his helmet. Driving over to the starting line, the two of you agreed on a count down. When ready the two of you started to count down from three and as you both hit zero, the two of you shot forward, speeding side by side as you started the race along the straight line of the first part of the track.

Soon however the two of you reached the first turn of the track. Niki once again took the underside and pushed forward on the accelerator he took the lead. As he turned the corner he slammed the break making the car drift as he made a sharp turn, quickly getting around the corner. He ensured the car took up most of the track however to make sure you wouldn’t try and get past him again like last time.

You quickly pushed around the corner as well but you weren’t able to pull off as sharp of a move, therefore not being as quick as him and subsequently finding yourself stuck behind him. Pushing down on the clutch and turning the wheel, you were able to reach back up to Niki’s side, who had been driving at a leisurely pace, his arrogance already believing he would stay in front. So when he saw your car drive past his left side, his head quickly snapped to you in surprise and then back to the road, clutching the gear tighter.

He caught up to you again, and this time he started to drift slowly left cutting you off the track. You instantly had to pump the brakes to slow down and avoid a potential collision as he pushed over. It was a dirty move on his part, from someone who was mad at you for less and the thought of it had you fuming.

Once again you pushed forward in the car, attempting to catch up with Niki but he was able to push the car further, keeping the distance between the two of you. Another turn came up and Niki was able to make a smoother and more closed in turn whereas you had to go wide which cost you a few more seconds of time.

Still putting everything you got in the car, you slammed the accelerator and rushed forward again to get side by side with Niki as the two of you turned another corner together. Now it was the final straight strip of track and the two of you were neck in neck. Both of you were pushing on the accelerator trying to get the car to go faster, however, Niki had obviously worked on his car improving it’s speed as he shot forward and past the finish line first.

He pulled up ahead of you as you slowed down and stopped on the track, hitting your head against the steering wheel to let out your frustration. You had been so certain you could beat Niki and yet once again he won against you and you knew he would be holding it against you. As you looked up now you could see the very man had taken off his helmet and was strutting towards you with a very self-serving smirk.

You knew you couldn’t hide away from it, that would just be cowardly and something he certainly wouldn’t forget so instead, you gathered the strength to pull yourself out of the car, yanking your helmet off and turning to Niki.

“I told you-” he began and instantly made you roll your eyes.

“Yes, go on and brag about it. I know you will be for the rest of the year.”

Niki chuckled and looked away for a moment, flicking his tongue over his lip then glancing back at you.

“I don’t need to brag, you will always remember how I beat you fair and square today.”

“You’re such an asshole” you murmur, starting to turn away from the man but still he continued to talk to you.

“Can you think of any other insult apart from an asshole?”

You shot back around to him, your eyes glaring.

“Yes, motherfucker, wanker, jerk, twat, pain in my ass,” you paused for a second, “Rat.”

Niki just crossed his arms, his eyes gazing over you as his tongue flickers out again. “Not creative enough, James already calls me all of those.”

“Are you just determined to criticize everything I do?”

“You’re angry, that’s good. Use your anger to focus your driving.”

“Why would you want to help me?”

“I don’t, the worse you are the better for me. However, if your driving improves, you are less likely to cause an accident next time.”

Heat flared up inside of you realising his alter motives but before you could shout any words at him, he had already turned around and was walking away from you without looking back once.

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[shyficwriter]

Temporary Home: Chapter 5

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!)

Summary: Looks like things might be starting to get better between Reader and the rest of the team. However, Rocket can't bring himself to like you just yet, he's not the most trusting.

Previous Chapter here | Next Chapter Here Or click here to: Start From Beginning

Author’s Note: Thank you to @colormeyondublue, @theambracer88, and @condy-wants-a-cookie for participating in Fic Improv suggestions!

Word Count: 4,695

You didn't return for several hours, long enough for it to start to get dark out and for the others to start to wonder if you'd come back at all.

Gamora was about to suggest she and Peter go looking for you when you came in the back door. The blood from your face was now gone, but remanent drops still stained the front of your shirt.

You were surprised to find everyone in the kitchen as if they had been waiting up for you.

"Where have you been?" asked Gamora. Her voice didn't sound accusatory, despite her hands on her hips. She sounded oddly worried.

"Taking a walk?" you say with a raised eyebrow. You hadn't honestly expected anyone to be worried with your absence. After all, you bit their friend.

"You were gone for six hours!" Kraglin said incredulously. "Who takes a walk for six hours?"

You shrugged. "Took a nap, too. Why are you all looking at me like that?"

Most of them were looking at you like worried parents, except for Yondu who was leaning against the counter looking at his nails disinterested, Drax who looked mildly disapproving, and Rocket who wasn't even facing you, looking like he didn't give one solitary shit if you came back or not.

"Because you were gone for six hours." Drax repeated. "We thought you died."

"You thought I- No. Look, I just went for a walk- like you 'suggested'-" you looked pointedly at Drax and made air quotes around the word 'suggested,' (your gesture only seemed to confuse him), "took a nap, slept the whiskey off, got cleaned up in the river... Why are you even worr- Oh. Right." You roll your eyes. "Fury would have figured something out if I didn't come back, don't you worry," you say bitterly.

Peter grimaced and stood. "No, that's not- Alright. We got off on a bad foot here. We-" He looked at Rocket to try and include in the contrition, "-feel bad about how things have gone, and we just want to talk."

You look at them a moment, considering. "Okay."

"Okay." Peter looked relieved. "First off, we're sorry that we haven't made the best housemates. We're a dysfunctional bunch of dicks, we get it."

"Some of you more than others." you say, looking at Rocket.

"Yes," Peter agreed, also looking at Rocket. "and we're sorry. We've been in your personal space, and it's obviously been tough for you and we haven't helped that and we understand if you want us to leave. We're sure NOVA will understand."

You stare off into a blank space of wall for awhile. "No," you eventually say with a sigh. "You don't have to leave. It's not entirely your fault things have been tense. I can admit I've been a little... less than welcoming." Your eyes drift to the ceiling and you cross your arms. "I shouldn't be taking my frustration with what Fury did out on you." You finally look at Peter. "And I'm sorry I bit you," you say shyly, feeling your cheeks grow warm.

"It's ok. I've had worse. You didn't even break the skin." Peter said, before wincing, "I'm sorry I broke your nose."

"I don't think it's broken, actually. Hurt like a bitch, but somehow not broken."

Peter looked relieved. "That's good- That's it's not broken, I mean."

"I'm sorry I made you leave your house." Drax spoke up. "Gamora told me that wasn't a good thing to do."

"It's fine." You shrug. "I mean, don't make a habit of it... but no hard feelings." Honestly you knew you needed that walk, both to sort you out, and to try and sober up. Again, you bit a guy. Know who does that? Crazy drunk people. You were lucky one of his friends didn't clock you for it.

Drax beamed and approached you, "Great! Then we are friends!" Your eyes widen as he reaches out and pulls you into a bear hug and actually lifts you off the ground. You let out a wheeze as he squeezed the air from your lungs and you thought you felt a couple vertebra in your spine crack.

When he sets you back down you stumble back a bit, caught off guard. "Sure," you say breathlessly, almost laughing as you regained your bearings. 'Well, at least this one doesn't seem to hold grudges,' you assume.

You were wrong, but of course you didn't actually know Drax that well to know that if you had actually hurt someone he cared about, that he would have chased you across the galaxy to have his revenge. Good thing you hadn't had to figure that out.

"So you're not mad at us?" Mantis said hopefully. She was hugging the bear you gave her, little Groot perched on her shoulder, and your face softened. Her expression was just so... hopeful? Like she really needed to hear that you weren't mad and that she hadn't lost a friend. Innocent. That's the word you were looking for. She just looked too damn innocent, and it melted your heart against your consent.

"No s-" you caught yourself before you could call her 'sweetie.' "No, I'm not mad at you." You mentally whipped yourself. What the fuck? What did you think you were doing almost calling her 'sweetie'? Getting attached or some shit? Some of that whiskey must still be in your system.

She claps her hands excitedly, somehow not dropping the bear in the process, and you can just tell she's going to hug you too. Your eyes flick to Peter in a silent cry for help as she bolts up from her chair, and he just gives you a knowing look and a chuckle as if to say, "You should have guessed that would happen," right before Mantis's body crashes into yours.

You stumble back but don't fall, and awkwardly pat her on the back and letting out half a laugh as Groot crawled on top of your head. "Alright, ok. Settle down now," you say, pulling him from your hair and gently handing him back to Mantis.

Yondu watched in amusement. He was sure he heard you almost call her 'sweetie,' and combined with what he had seen how you treated them so far, and having also been told by Mantis about the bear (because she told everyone) and he saw Groot playing with the toy car that could have only came from you, it only confirmed to him that you seemed to have a soft spot for her and the twig.

"Well if everyone's apologizing, where's mine?" Rocket asked, standing defiantly on the table with his arms crossed.

Kraglin looked at him incredulously. "For what?"

"She tossed me out the door like a rag doll yesterday!" Rocket threw his hands in the air, as if Kraglin was missing something very obvious.

You huffed a laugh out your nose. "No. Absolutely not. For one, I'm not sorry, and secondly, did you really think I'd forget that you tried to poison me earlier today?"

Rocket got several looks for that, ranging from surprise to disapproval. Even Yondu raised an eyebrow.

"Rocket!" Gamora and Drax said in unison.

Rocket put his hands on his hips and rolled his eyes. "I wasn't actually trying to poison you! You wouldn't have died or nuttin!"

Peter then explained the situation from earlier that day with the xanti-berries to the others and how Rocket had tried to convince you to eat them, which earned more disapproving looks directed towards Rocket. It was well known among most of them what they did to the Terran digestion. Yondu and Kraglin made that unfortunate discovery early on when they fed them to Peter as a boy, a mistake you don't exactly make twice and a memory Kraglin wished he could have scrubbed from his mind with the same solvents he had been tasked with cleaning Yondu's M-ship bathroom with after said mistake. The rest of the team found out in a much, much cleaner way, having simply been told by Peter when offered some that Terrans couldn't eat them.

Yondu finally spoke up. "If anyone here actually needs to apologize I think it's Rocket."

Rocket looked at him in betrayal, his expression saying, 'Man, I thought we were cool!?' His tail twitched in annoyance. Yondu was supposed to be on his side, not yours,

"Don't give me that look," Yondu said. "Ya know ya've spent nearly all yer time here being a dick, not to mention its yer fault we're here in the first place."

Rocket rolled his eyes and hopped off the table with a, "Whatever losers." and walked out of the room, flipping the bird as he went.

"Rocket!" Gamora called out angrily, but Peter put a hand on her shoulder and said, "Let him go."

After a beat you begin awkwardly edging yourself out of the room as well, saying, "Well, this was awkward. Glad we made up. I'm gonna go wash up for bed. Bye."

They didn't stop you. You had reached an understanding, that would have to do for now. Peter and Gamora knew you all wouldn't just become best friends after one heart-to-heart. At the moment reaching the knowledge of 'Your host doesn't actually wish to burn you all alive' would have to do.

***

You honestly expected the next day to be just as tense, but you were pleasantly surprised. You actually managed to strike up a decent, albeit short, conversation with Peter and Gamora at breakfast.

When you finished you excused yourself to go tend to the garden, but nothing could have prepared you for what you found outside.

You exited the back door, and just before you could put in your earbuds you heard the sounds of bickering. Confused and mildly irritated at the thought of needing to break up yet another fight, you turn your head to the left, where the noise was coming from.

You cocked your head, eyebrow raised. You rubbed your eyes just to make sure you weren't seeing things.

Different emotions overtook you. Confusion. Shock. Disbelief. Then, finally, humor.

Your mouth twitched upwards of its own volition, and your stomach muscles twitched as a huff air forced its way through your nose.

Were you honestly seeing... what you thought you were seeing?

A few meters ahead of you laid Kraglin and Rocket, struggling against what appeared to be your garden hose. What was threatening to pull laughter from your belly, however, was the position they had somehow managed to get themselves into.

You'll never know how they did it, but one of Kraglin's legs was stuck in a sitting position, held in place by the hose wrapped around his thigh. He had one arm pinned behind his back, and another tied to his head with said hose.

That might have done it by itself, but that wasn't all. Rocket was tangled as well, but it was where he was tangled that made you lose your composure.

Rocket's limbs also pinned in crazy directions, but he wasn't tangled separately from Kraglin, no. Rocket was more or less strapped to Kraglin's back, but in a way that his head had nowhere to go but... well... Kraglin's butt.

You attempted to walk towards them, knowing you should probably help them, but once you opened your mouth about halfway there you knew there was no way to hold back your laughter, though you did try.

"What- Ha-How-" You pause briefly to attempt to hold in your giggles before trying again. "How did you-?" More giggling. "How did you-" Even more giggles, "manage that?" You covered your mouth, unable to stop the torrent of giggles that only got worse once they turned their heads in shock and embarrassment to face you. "You- You? What?" You could barely string words together now.

"Oh come now! It's not funny!" Kraglin pouted. Rocket just growled in annoyance.

"I-I'm sorry!" you say, not looking very sorry at all with the way mirthful tears wet your waterline and how you held your stomach from laughing so hard.

Then Rocket threatened to bite Kraglin's ass if he didn't figure out a way to untangle them, and Kraglin threatened to fart on him if he so much as thought of biting him.

That made you completely lose it. You dropped to your knees and laughed harder than you had in a very long time, unable to string anything longer than a mirthful "I'm sorry!" together to save your own life, let alone help untangle them.

Peter and Gamora heard your loud laughter from inside the kitchen, and having not heard anything more than a sarcastic half-laugh from you the entire time they'd been here, wanted to see what had been able to make you lose it like that.

They came outside to see you on your knees in the throws of a laughing fit almost a couple meters from where Kraglin and Rocket lay tangled together.

The scene made them laugh as well. Well, Peter laughed. Gamora was able to keep it to a wide grin and a couple escaped giggles as she mercifully walked over to help untie the pair, with Peter's giggly attempts to help as well, that were actually more of a hinderance than helpful.

At one point you thought you had gotten it together enough to try and help them, but you didn't make it all the way before your laughing fit had you doubled over again. You losing it again only made Peter laugh harder, and Gamora only grinned and shook her head as she worked at trying to free Kraglin's arm from his head, having already managed to free his leg from its garden-hose-y prison.

"Ow! Ow! Fuck!" You exclaim, still laughing. "I think I pulled something!"

Peter looked at you then turned to Kraglin & Rocket and laughed more, pointing, "You made her laugh so hard she pulled a muscle! AHAHA!"

By this point Gamora had (more or less single-handedly) managed to free Rocket from Kraglin and Kraglin was free enough to untangle himself the rest of the way.

Rocket glared at you angrily, "I'll teach you to laugh at me!" He looked like he was about to lunge at you when Gamora scolded out a warning, "Rocket." and he then just muttered angrily and made his way back inside the house.

You had gotten your laughter in to more manageable giggles, until you looked up to see Kraglin had just finished untangling himself and was walking your way before your burst into laughter again. "AHA-Ow! Ow! Haha! I'm sorry- Haha-ow! I'm sorry!" you manage to say as Kraglin pouted and continued on towards the door, his pride a bit bruised. You thought you had pulled something in your ribs, and it made laughing too hard a little sore, but you honestly couldn't help it.

You worked on catching your breath and Peter asked, giggling, "How did they even do that?"

You took deep breaths and answered, "I have no idea." You turned your head towards Kraglin walking away and started laughing again, needing to turn away because it hurt to laugh. Peter and Gamora shook their heads, grinning.

This was definitely better than you being cranky and avoiding them all the time, now if only it would last.

You stated you needed to tend the garden and they took the hint to leave you so you could gather yourself.

Peter couldn't help but think that if you pulled a muscle from laughing, it must mean you didn't do it nearly enough, and he made a mental note to try and fix that while they were there.

***

You headed to the work shed after tending your garden, intent to unclamp and sand down the pieces of the bed you were making for Rocket.

You had almost considered scrapping the project after the whole "attempted poison" incident, but you were in a good mood, and still thought it might quell his whining, so you decided you might as well finish it.

Once everything was sanded to a nice finish you decided you might as well stain it too, and add a coat of varnish. Might as well do a complete job while you were at it.

Or maybe you were stalling.

Either way, you decided you needed to make a run into town. It had been awhile since you checked the mail anyhow.

You locked the shed back up and went inside to get ready to leave.

Before you were about to go, you caught Peter in the hall and told him you were leaving, and as a courtesy asked him if he knew if there might be anything anyone might need from town.

He thought for a bit, not really able to think of anything, one reason being that he didn't know what Terran shops carried anymore that his friends would recognize, let alone need, but then an idea struck. "Hey, do they still make Oreos? If you don't mind- I always kinda wanted to show the others what they were like. They were one of my favorites as a kid."

You smile. Of all the things he could have asked for, and this grown man wanted oreos to share with his friends. It was sweet. "I'll see what I can do," you say, still smiling as you made your way out the door.

***

For the life of him, Rocket couldn't understand why Groot seemed to like it here.

It was boring. Despite all this space, he couldn't blow up anything, and he had been forbidden by the others to try. Something about Terran shit being "extra flammable" or something. Not like he had anything that could make a decent boom if he tried, it had all been confiscated by SHIELD, the bastards. They'd even searched his "back pocket."

To be fair, his reputation had preceded him and they did find some small blast charges and a detonator...

Normally he'd use his resources, pull from the environment around him, but you only had primitive Terran shit that wasn't good for anything fun.

It was like he was being punished, stuck on this Terran prison. Normally he'd just escape a prison, like he had the last 23 he had been in, but this time apparently it was 'safer' to stay in the prison than to leave. As if he even could leave without a ship...

What had he done to deserve this punishment?

Sure, maybe he had insulted their last client... and maybe he had stolen their shit... but they deserved it for being so damn uptight and upitty. Everyone else was thinking it, he was just the only one brave enough to put them in their place!

And look where it got him. Stuck here. In the middle of nowhere, on a primitive hunk of rock floating in the middle of nowhere, with nothing fun to do or see, forced to sleep in a damn crib like an infant. He almost wished Peter hadn't told him what it was that first night. He originally just thought it was a weird fancy little bed, until Peter peeked in and quietly chuckled a comment about, "Aww! Cute! You get to sleep in a crib like a little baby!" Which then prompted him to complain to the SHIELD woman about the sleeping arrangement, but he only got a shrug from her in response as she said stuff about being "crunched for time" and it was "the perfect size" while his friends laughed at him.

And then there was you. As far as he was concerned you were just as bad as their last client. Stick up your ass, skulking around and tossing him out for fighting like you owned the place...

Well, he supposed you did own the place... bit still! Who did you think you were?

Anyone dumber might answer, 'the person who was nice enough to take in eight strangers to keep them safe,' but he knew better. No one was that good. You were either getting paid a shit-tonne to do this, or you had sinister intentions, and any trace of caring was just an act. Maybe both, who was he to say?

"I am Groot?"

Rocket was shaken from his thoughts by Groot's question.

"What?" asked Rocket.

"I am Groot?" he asked again.

"Wha- No. There's no monsters in the attic- who told you that? We would have heard them!" he then quickly added, "Monsters don't exist anyway!"

"I am Groot."

Rocket rolled his eyes. "Ohhh- Of course she would." He could feel his irritation rising. Who the fuck did you think you were, scaring the little guy like that? He looked at Groot and told him you were just being a dick, and he was going to show Groot himself that you were a liar.

"I am Groot!"

Rocket rolled eyes again. "So what if it's locked? I've got my-" He then remembered that his lock-picking set had also been confiscated. Dammit! "I bet there's a key somewhere!"

"I am Groot!"

"We won't get in trouble if you keep quiet about it!" Rocket said irritably. Groot simply crossed his arms in response, a displeased expression on his face.

He placed Groot on his shoulder, and they made their way silently from their room, around the landing, and peered down the stairs before making their way over to open your door. He knew the others wouldn't approve of what he was doing, and he was grateful that he and Groot seemed to be the only ones upstairs at the moment. Well, that was assuming that no one was behind the closed doors of the other two rooms and they wouldn't find Mantis sitting in the room you shared with her.

The room was empty. Good. He wouldn't have to hear anyone complain about what he was doing, although he was certain if Mantis had been in there he could have played it off as Groot wanting to play more hide-n-seek.

Rocket knew you had left the house, otherwise he might not be attempting to do what he was, not looking forward to you possibly tossing him back outside for another 'walk,' or more or less a glorified time out like he was a child. Bad enough he had to sleep in the crib...

However, he knew he should probably be quick about it. You had already been gone nearly a couple hours, and while he didn't know how far away the place you were going was, he knew he should just assume you'd be back any minute.

He paused to listen, he had good enough hearing that he could hear just about any regular movement in the house if he was listening for it. After not hearing anything that sounded like someone getting ready to come up the stairs he got to work.

As quietly and as quickly as he could, he made his way around the room. He had a decent idea of which bed belonged to Mantis and so he didn't bother looking over there.

He checked in your nightstand drawers. Nothing. Just a journal he considered taking a peek at, but decided against it due to being crunched for time.

He checked though your dresser drawers, and aside from one large garment that appeared like a comfy jumpsuit but looked like someone skinned some weird black and white spotted mammal, found nothing but your clothes and under-things.

He finally got around to checking the desk. There was nothing on top save for some pens, a notepad, and what Terrans excused for a computer- a 'lap top' or whatever they called it. He pulled out the bottom drawer from the set of three on the right side, but it was only a bunch of file folders, again, none of which he could be bothered to fully read, only gathering cursory glances of boring titles with stuff like "Insurance," "Deed," and "Obituary," whatever that was.

He quickly abandoned that drawer and moved to the next one up. Still nothing. Just pencils and a book of drawings he quickly flipped through before placing back in the drawer, unwilling to give you even the imaginary satisfaction of even mentally saying they weren't half bad. He gave Groot an unimpressed look when he expressed interest in the pictures.

He reached the top drawer and almost wrote it off as a loss of pens, paperclips, sticky notes and other junk, until he just noticed a glint of metal from under one of the yellow pads of paper.

Jackpot.

He grabbed the key and grinned at Groot before turning towards the attic door.

But then he heard it. The front door opened.

Maybe someone's just going outside? Maybe he still had time?

Nope, the footsteps were coming in, not leaving.

Crap. You were home.

He knew it would only be bad news if he got caught, so he quickly placed the key back in the drawer, saying, "Another time, buddy," to Groot and made his way to peek out the door and make sure he wouldn't be seen exiting your room.

He could just see down the stairs that you were standing in the hall holding a paper bag, and you waved for someone's attention in the sitting room. Peter came and he followed you into the kitchen.

This was his chance, he quickly exited your room, quietly closed the door behind him, and bolted as quietly as possible toward the room he shared with Groot and Drax. It was times like these he was more than glad to be one of the smallest and lightest of the bunch.

***

You arrived home and brought Peter into the kitchen to show that you had indeed found him some Oreos, and a twin sleeve at that!

His eyes lit up when you removed them from the bag. "You got them!" he exclaimed as he accepted the package from you.

You lightly chuckled as he called for his friends to join him in the kitchen.

Feeling it would be awkward for you if he decided to excitedly declare that you bought them biscuits, you excused yourself before the others could arrive, saying that you had some other things to put away in your car and you'd be back when he seemed almost disappointed that you were running away from being social again.

You passed by Kraglin and Yondu on your way back towards the front door, and you were unable to stop yourself from giggling as you laid eyes on Kraglin. You covered your mouth, but of course they noticed.

"What was that about?" Yondu asked Kraglin in confusion, looking back at you as you exited the front door.

Kraglin only pouted and said, "Please don't ask, sir."

***

Rocket answered Peter's call along with everyone else, and was a little surprised to hear that you had picked up some Terran cookies at Peter's request. He ate some, because hey- free food, but he wasn't going to fall for your sugary bribery, which he was sure this was. He certainly doubted you did it to be nice. Hell, if you were nice you would have helped him and Kraglin with getting untangled instead of laughing so hard you couldn't stand up.

Something caught his eye out the window from where he sat on the counter, and he directed his attention to what he realized was you, walking toward that shed he kept hearing loud noses from but couldn't get into because you kept it locked. The windows didn't open either, he tried, nor could he make anything out when he tried to look through them due to the dark interior.

But there was one thing he could see clearly now as you made your way to the shed.

You were carrying chains.

His eyes narrowed as he nibbled on his treat. He knew there was something off about you. What were you doing in that shed? Were those chains meant for him and his friends? To chain up the next person who pissed you off?

He knew the others wouldn't believe him. Until he could prove it to the others that you were bad news, he decided to keep his mouth shut for now.

[mggpleasedontlookhere]

pascal

summary: spencer has had a few late nights at work, which ultimately meant neglecting y/n and their baby. after he returns home, he attempts to console his child, only to find out that his son doesn’t recognize him

word count: 1887                                                                                      reading time aprox: 8 mins

masterlist

My muscles were in complete repose, my eyes began to flutter against the sudden weight that forced them to shut, and reality around me began to dissipate. I drew in a long breath as I let myself succumb to the peaceful atmosphere of mine and Spencer’s bedroom, the moonlight that crept through the window enhancing the serene ambiance.  

I felt the soft fabric of the duvet on the skin of my legs, pulling it over the entirety of my body as I drifted away into a well deserved slumber. Unfortunately, those plans were unmatched to the wails of my crying son in the nursery next to the bedroom. 

I groaned, clutching my head while disdainfully throwing myself up from the bed and dragging myself to where my son laid in distress. Walking into the quaint, but pastel colored room, my eyes landed on the clock above the cradle. Exhaustion infiltrated my every move and the fact that the clock read 2:48 am made the occasion less desirable. 

“Hey Pascal, hey buddy” I cooed, picking up the small infant that permeated the room with his blaring cries. It was Spencer’s idea to name him after his favorite French mathematician. At first, Spencer was definite on naming the baby Schrodinger after the Austrian physicist, which was followed by the explanation of Schrodinger’s cat and how that unveiled the misconceptions on Copenhagen’s theory of physics. Fortunately for me and the hospital, I was too busy in labor to retaliate by throwing him out of the hospital window for interrupting the birth of our first child with physics history. After a while of deliberation, we both agreed on the name Pascal.

“Shh, it’s okay baby, mommy’s got you” I reassured, laying him on my chest as I bounced on the heels of my feet while swaying side to side. I hummed the tune of Mozart’s Sonata No. 16, the melody subduing the child’s relentless howls as I placed him back into the cradle. I refolded the blanket that swaddled Pascal, tucking in any stray pieces that his tiny feet could slip out of. Finally, I walked over to a music box that rested on top of the baby’s dresser, winding it to play throughout the remainder of the night to encourage the baby’s slumber. 

I wish I could be in the same circumstances as Pascal, considering he had a means of going back to sleep. My preferred method was, yet again, staying late at the FBI headquarters in order to assist in a BAU case. 

It felt like the same night had been replaying over and over again for the past 2 weeks. I’d get up to soothe the baby, fall back asleep on a lonesome bed, then wake up to a man that would hurry back to work the second his eyes opened. Me and Spencer were becoming estranged, although my concern primarily derived from the possibility of our son not even recognizing his father. 

I stumbled back to my room, practically dragging my feet as I tediously made my way back to the comforting sensation of the bed. My entire body screamed for sedation, begging for rest, yet my mind raced with troublesome thoughts about my relationship with Spencer. 

My eyes shifted downwards to the emerald ring that Spencer had given me when he proposed. It was the same ring that his mother and grandmother had worn when they were ought to be betrothed. I slouched on the side of the bed, sliding the ring off of my finger and into the drawer of the nightstand and finally attempted to regain the will of maintaining a decent sleep schedule. 

Though with my luck, that was yet to happen due to a loud bang that engulfed the apartment, followed by a string of curse words from Spencer’s mouth. With the inclination to investigate battling against my debilitation. I hauled my entire body up off the bed once again to meet Spencer in the living room, where I was met with the view of a lanky boy clutching onto several books that were scattered on the wood floors. If I weren’t in an irritated disposition, I would’ve laughed at the scene displayed in front of me, instead I mustered up a small ‘welcome home’ as I squinted at him. 

“Hey Y/N, why are you still up?” He whispered, straddling the books he carried on his knee. 

I sighed, wiping the wrinkles off of my forehead. “I-I don’t know, Pascal woke up and I was, yeah- I was just trying to sleep, but he started crying” I explained, stumbling over my words as the fatigue clearly impeded my cognitive ability. 

“I’m sorry to hear that Y/N” He walked over to the table next to the door and placed the books back to where they were previously before heading over to the kitchen. “Why don’t you go back to sleep, love?” He suggested, reaching over the counter for the cappuccino machine. 

“You’re staying up?” I inquired, ignoring his proposal completely. He sifted through the cabinets to find his favorite Star Trek mug for his coffee, but struggled to locate it. “-third cabinet to the left” I interjected, putting him out of his misery. 

He nodded in gratitude, flashing me a tight lipped smile. “Yeah, I just have to finish the paperwork for some case files” He elaborated casually. 

I stood over the living room couch, setting myself down on the edge of the cushions as I observed Spencer’s movements. “Are you coming to bed Spence?” I crossed arms, resting my eyes while I continued to feebly converse with him. 

“Uhhhhh-” He prolonged his speech, deliberating on how he was going to answer the double edged question. “It’s a really long case Y/N, I’ll try to be in bed as soon as possible” He confessed, watching the steam rise from the coffee pot, indicating that his brew was almost done. 

“Okay” I replied monotonously, not having the energy to negotiate with Spencer’s unhealthy work habits. “Do you mind at least checking on the baby next time he gets fussy?” I rubbed the temples of my forehead, feeling a migraine begin to ensue. 

“Y/N I don’t think I can, I just have a lot to go over and Hotch is really on me for-” 

“Spencer, I understand it’s been a long night for me too” I gripped onto the throw pillows below me as my migraine intensified. “I just- my head’s kind hurting and I just need you to check up on Pascal once and in a wh-” 

“Y/N-” He began, pouring copious amounts of creamer into his cup of coffee. “I just need this night alone Y/N, and I really don’t think it’s a lot to ask” He justified, leaning on the counter behind him as he sipped on beverage. 

Frustration battled with the almost unbearable pounding in my head, grateful for the dimly lit room that blessed my sensitive eyes. “But Spencer, you’re barely here at home and Pascal needs his da-” 

“Yes, but his dad is out in the world, ridding it of all the bad guys that can cause harm to him” Spencer argued, an impatient tone evident behind his words. “Don’t I get any credit for that?” 

“Spencer, I’m not saying that-”

“Y/N I’m just having a long night, I need to spend it alone-” 

“Oh, just like me and Pascal do every night” I spat, gesturing to the nursery across the hall. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He interrogated, slamming his mug onto the coffee, but not forceful enough to spill the beverage. 

“Spencer, I’m really not trying to fight” I emphasized, forcing my eyes shut as I felt my head pulse. 

“Well, it seems like you are” Spencer scoffed, peering at me with an incredulous expression. “At least I’m supporting this household, what are you attributing to it?” He mocked, his voice elevating in volume. 

“Spencer, can we not get into that, I’m just saying that I wished you spent more time with Pascal” I admitted, my voice fading out into the darkness as I tried to limit my speech.

“Y/N, don’t you understand that-” 

“YES! I understand fully” I impulsively yelled in annoyance, regretting it afterwards with the thought of the baby in my conscience. 

Unfortunately the sound of my voice had permeated the poor child’s ears, sending him into a panicked frenzy of deafening cries. I groaned in exasperation, running my hands over my face in exhaustion as the crying fit ensued in the middle a heated argument. 

“God! See what you did now” Spencer complained, shaking his head as he made long strides towards the nursery. 

“Spence- I don’t think you want to do that” I warned, running along after him. “Spence he hasn’t seen you in a long time, I don’t think he’ll recog-” 

“He’s my son Y/N, I think he’ll recognize me” He jeered, mocking my apprehension. He entered into the small room with soft steps, reaching into the cradle with an amiable countenance before coddling the small human against his shoulders. Opposite to Spencer’s intentions, Pascal began to fuss in Spencer’s hold. He kicked and emitted loud screams, resisting against the foreign arms that were around him. 

“Spence-” I whispered, although my attempt to gain his attention fell through as he continued to care for Pascal. 

“Hey, it’s okay daddy’s he- hey no it’s- Pascal-” Spencer sputtered out, struggling against the infant writhing around on his shoulder. The lines were now apparent on Spencer’s forehead, indicating his exponentially growing frustration. 

“Spence, give him to me. I can-” I interjected, but was ultimately shut down by Spencer’s stubbornness. 

“I got this Y/N” He stated with determination. 

Although even with all his motivation and determination to sedate the small child, the results were dissatisfactory. “Come Pascal- come on buddy” Spencer cooed, now bouncing him side to side. Pascal’s cries engulfed the entire room, giving me a heart wrenching feeling due to my motherly instinct. 

A small part of me pitied Spencer’s attempts at reconnecting with his child as he found the results fruitless. By this point, his methods were futile; Pascal’s behavior becoming increasingly volatile. Instinctively I rushed over to Spencer, picking up Pascal in my arms. 

Without a second passing by, the infant had calmed down instantaneous. I bounced him side to side, similar to Spencer’s actions, and snuggled him into my chest. 

For a moment I caught Spencer’s gaze and what I saw was more than heartbreaking to witness. He looked at me and Pascal with a defeated look, but it wasn’t any ordinary defeated look, he seemed to be in utter despair. 

My frustration at him dissipated and was replaced by empathy as his eyes began to water in chagrin. Setting Pascal back into the cradle after he fell back asleep, I turned to face Spencer with a lamentable expression; only to find him gazing at his hands with indignation. 

“Spence” I whispered gently. Although without a second thought, he had rushed out of the room, grabbed his belongings, and left the apartment. 

I closed my eyes in disquietude, reminded of the migraine I had previously. I waddled back into the bedroom to cuddle into the bed sheets as I let my mind roam the forlorn thoughts that swirled around my head.

part 2

-

tag list: @rexorangecouny

part 2 tmrw

[abluescarfonwaston]

I’d know him blind

It didn’t come all at once. He’d really thought they’d made it out unscathed. That the box he’d opened in that mage’s abandoned laboratory hadn’t worked.

As they walked back thick fog rolled in. Obscuring the sky. The path ahead. The trees aside them. Even dimming Geralt and Roach a few paces ahead into off grey.

He jogged closer to them. Geralt gave him a look.

“What? Sorry I don’t want to get lost.”

“Why would you get lost?”

“Because?” He waved at the thick grey mist around them. “The fog Geralt? Not all of us can follow a scent trail. Even if it’s yours.” He fanned the thick smell of Geralt’s sweat away.

He stopped. Turned to him.

“Theirs’s no fog Jaskier.” Grabbed his face. Studying his eyes as the fog rolled in thicker. Obscuring even Roach right behind him. “It’s clear out.”

“Oh.” His hands started shaking and his eyes grew hot. “Then I suppose we have a problem.”

And Geralt’s face; hard and angry and concerned disappeared into the grey.

 “Ah Master Witcher! Master Bard! Haven’t touched your room!” Something wooshed past his ear. Jangled at his side as Geralt moved oddly next to him.

“Thanks.” Geralt grunted moving him through the bar.

“Ah! Master bard!” Footsteps. Creaking wood. People talking. It was. It was a lot and nothing at all because he had no idea where or what or who it was. “You’ll be playing for us tonight yes? Dinner and a bath as agreed?”

“No.” Geralt growled. “He won’t.”

“Of course!” He agreed over top him. “I will however need a stage,” He didn’t remember if the bar had one. He preferred not to use them anyway. Moving through the crowds instead. But he doubted it did. “Or a chair at least. Our little adventure has left me a bit short sighted.” He grinned at where he hoped the man was.

There was a lull. Where the only noise was the bar. He shifted his feet.

“He’s blind.” Geralt said finally. He leaned a little harder into his solid mass. Steady and warm and there.

“Temporarily!” He quickly assured. The arm not wrapped around Geralt’s flapped. Smacking sharply into something. “Ow.”

“Oh!” The barkeep Seemed startled. He was further to the left than he’d thought. “We’ll set something up then! I hope you make a hasty recovery Master bard!”

“Jaskier is fine.” He assured. “Now if you’ll excuse us.” Geralt pulled him from the bar.

 “Why’d you agree to play!” Geralt snapped at him after he’d been deposited on the bed.

“I don’t need eyes to play and sing Geralt. What? Am I supposed to just sit in this tiny room and twiddle my thumbs all week?” He yelled into the darkness.

Geralt exhaled with a forced slowness. “I need to go return this.” Metal sliding on metal. The chain of the necklace they’d been sent to retrieve. That had been locked in the box he’d opened. Very cleverly he had thought. “Stay.”

“Stay!” He barked. “I’m not a fucking dog!” He yelled at after him as the door closed and his footsteps faded away.

Something creaked. He flinched away from it.

The bed was firm under him. The blanket decent but not soft.

He drummed his fingers on his leg.

Someone walked passed the room.

He grabbed the blanket and found the wall. Carefully followed it into the corner. Curled up there with the blanket around him.

He couldn’t read. Write. There was no one to talk to anymore. Just him and the grey darkness.

He hoped if someone came into their room they wouldn’t spot him. Because he couldn’t run. Couldn’t fight. Not that he was particularly good at that normally. But he couldn’t tell if he was hidden. Because he couldn’t see.

He couldn’t see.

Geralt was gone and he couldn’t see and every time something made a sound he couldn’t identify he flinched.

Temporary. Should only last a week. Geralt assured.

But Geralt didn’t know that much about magic. Or he might have been lying. To keep him from panicking.

He was panicking now. But there was no one there to see. So he let himself.

And when he was too exhausted to panic more he fell asleep and he hardly noticed the difference because everything was dark anyway.

 Someone was moving in the room.

He shoved himself into the corner tighter as the footsteps creaked the floorboards and he breathed in to scream-

His nose filled with the musk of onion and sweat.

He relaxed in a boneless heap. “You scared me Geralt. I thought you were a thief or something.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Unidentifiable ruffling joined his voice. “If you’re going to play you should go down soon.”

“Right.” He stood. Throwing the blanket in the direction of the bed. “Where’s my lute?”

There was the familiar sound of Geralt’s feet softly hitting the wood even in his boots. Far too delicate steps for a man of his size. He exhaled, the terror receding with the recognition of each step. It was gently placed in his outstretched hands.

He traced the wood. Her finish. Ran his fingers down her strings.

She was familiar. Safe. He didn’t need to see to know her.

“Alright. Help your best friend down the stairs will you?”

“We’re not friends.” He grumbled as he did exactly that.

 Playing was wonderful. Even if he couldn’t dance with the songs. Move with them. Smile and wink effectively to charm the audience of their earnings.

The after was less fun.

People approaching. There was too much random noise to figure out who they were or where exactly they were. Talking to him. He chatted back. He always loved a conversation.

It was harder when he couldn’t see them. Judge how he was coming off aside from their tone of voice and words.

Something touched his knee.

He leaped back. Knocking the chair out from under him. Tripping on it as he backed away.

There were people asking him all kinds of questions at once and reaching out to touch him and-

Geralt’s hand wrapped around his bicep. The exact shape and warmth and way he always did. Hauling him up and away from the crowded room.

“Show’s over.” He growled.

He clung to Geralt as he was hauled from the room. Thrown over his shoulder.

He couldn’t keep track of the room or the people in it or where they were going. His eyes searched the darkness uselessly.

But the leather was familiar under his fingers.

The movement of it steadying.

Something creaked.

“Stop grabbing my ass Jaskier.”

“Wha- is that what this is?” He moved his hands slightly to better feel the muscle moving under the leather. “It’s very lovely. A lovely bottom.”

The world spun and the bed creaked under him as he was roughly dropped into it.

There were several moments of silence. He wondered if Geralt was glaring at him since he clearly wasn’t putting his Lute away for him.

“I know this might come as a shock to you but I can’t actually see you right now so whatever lecture you’re trying to impart with a stern face,” He demonstrated the expected face, “and disappointed eyes I can’t actually see. So they’re actually even less effective than normal. So there.”

“I.” A pause. “You panicked. Why?”

He grimaced into the pillow. Schooled his face and rolled onto his side. Propped his face on his palm facing Geralt’s general direction.

“I didn’t panic.” He scoffed and shook his head. “You kidnapped me from my adoring fans! Very rude Geralt.”

“You fell out of your chair.”

“Sabotage!” He said too quickly. “I was knocked out of my chair!”

“No you weren’t.”

“Are you telling the story or am I?”

“Tell it right then.” He growled.

His smile partially collapsed. It was a silly thing to have panicked over. He knew that. People touched him all the time.

He raised and lowered a shoulder casually rebuilding the easy smile. “Someone touched me and I over reacted. What a shame too. I’ve heard having sex blindfolded really ups the thrill of it and-“

“Stop.” Geralt groaned.

He barreled on anyway. “If anything doing it blind has to be its own experience. Really maximizing the sensory deprivation.” He rolled onto his back. “Put my lute away and come to bed. What are you doing? Standing there like a statue all night? Is that the plan? You are no longer allowed to make plans if that’s the case.”

He heard the quiet thump of her being hung up by the doorway. The soft padding of Geralt’s feet on the wood. He scooched over on the bed for him.

Geralt didn’t get in.

He frowned and pat the mattress obligingly.

“I touched you without asking too.”

He turned to him. The grey was almost black. So it was likely dark out. “So?”

Unhelpful silence.

He patted the bed again. “Either talk or lie down you broody old man.”

The bed creaked slightly. “I’m getting in.”

He snorted. “Gathered that thank you.”

A short huff of frustration. “Don’t want you to panic again.”

He rolled his eyes. “Well excuse me for wanting to know who’s touching me before they do.”

“I wasn’t-“ The bed creaked forebodingly. Hopefully it would stay in one piece. That had been an issue at some of the cheaper inns they’d stayed at.

He popped off his doublet and loosened the drawstring of his pants. He waited to hear the familiar sound of Geralt shuffling out of his leathers.

His side remained eerily silent.

“What are you doing- Sleeping in your clothing tonight? We don’t do laundry enough as it is. Don’t make it worse.”

“I didn’t.” An irritated sigh. He stared judgingly in his direction. “Fine.”

The familiar sound of Geralt struggling out of his deliciously form fitting pants.

He wrangled the blankets over him as he tossed his trousers aside.

“Geralt?”

“What?” Came the grit out reply.

“Stop being weird. I’m blind not glass.”

“I don’t need you screaming bloody murder into my ear if I roll over.”

He reached out into the darkness and grabbed for the irritating bastard.

“That’s my pec Jaskier.”

“You certain?” He fondled it a bit more. “Damn I forget how muscular you are sometimes.”

His hand was knocked away as he laughed. Quickly grabbed the offending arm in his before it could escape.

“It’s fine Geralt. I know you in the dark just fine. It’s not like I can normally see you once the lights go out anyway.”

A quite inhale and exhale.

Geralt shuffled closer. He curled into Geralt’s chest.

“Besides.” He yawned and draped an arm over him. “I don’t need to see you to know it’s you.”

I knew you by the way your feet hit the ground and your hand felt around my arm. He didn’t say. I know you by the way the leather moves over your muscles and you exhale.

Geralt snorted disbelievingly.

“It’s true.” He tucked a leg between Geralt’s and nuzzled himself to a comfortable position. “You’ve got a pretty strong smell.”

[starshine583]

New Girl on the Block (13)

(Happy Valentine’s Day everybody!!! I’d say that this is a gift for the day, but this is my usual update time lol please enjoy the new chapter anyway! There’s also a mini series connected to this called Journal Entries :D)

Ch.1 / Ch.12 / Ch.14  (ao3)

Chapter 13: I’ll Make You a Deal

Lila stalked the halls of Dupont, doing her best to hide her scowl as she massaged her temples. When she offered to take Marinette’s job as Class President, she hadn’t realized how much extra work she was dumping onto herself. She thought that the title was just that: a title. Nothing more. Nothing less. Sure, she would have to verify a few things, acknowledge her classmates’ opinions towards the school system, and speak out about it as a representative towards them, but that was all. She didn’t expect it to rearrange her entire schedule towards life! Her head was pounding from the late nights of filing student complaints, her back ached from carrying this stupid binder around, and her wrist still twinged with pain from signing too many papers at once. It was ridiculous!

Lying to Bustier about those forms didn’t make it any easier either. Instead of getting to make minor additions to the papers Marinette had already written, she now had to rewrite all of the forms herself. The entire process was a nightmare, and Lila couldn’t escape. If she lied again and said that Marinette gave the forms back, that would be glorifying the girl, and she refused to do that. However, if she lied and said that she simply found the forms again, it would not only make her look suspicious, but also incompetent. She couldn’t have either of those descriptions attached to her person. 

So, that left her with the agonizing option of filling them out again herself. She tried to push it onto Alya, and for the most part, she succeeded. The red-head filled out a good half before handing them back, but that still left Lila with the other half. Thus, she’s spent the last three nights in a row doing nothing but signing form after form after form. The fact that she had to use Marinette’s forms as reference only made it worse. She could practically hear the ravenette laughing at her every time she glanced over the original paperwork. It was utterly humiliating.

And don’t get her started on the amount of requests or complaints that she had to file. Everyday her classmates came to her asking for this or that or “could you change this about our classroom?”. Sometimes they would talk about the seats being too hard or the fact that they didn’t have enough recess or how the stairs were too far apart and someone could trip. Then- oh, then -there were the class trips. One request was a literal trip to Greece. Greece! Did they think she or the school was just made of money? How can they possibly be this greedy or entitled? How was Marinette able to handle it all so easily? She made it look like it was nothing!

Lila clenched her fists at her side, her nails digging into her skin. Even after running from the school with her tail between her legs, Marinette was still acting as a sharp, irritating thorn in Lila’s side. 

Sparkling laughter interrupted her thoughts, and Lila turned to the two boys standing outside of the library entrance. Adrien Agreste, the golden child of the school, and Nino, his little sidekick- as far as Lila was concerned -appeared to be chatting mindlessly on their way back to class, which was typical. Adrien was always talking with somebody now-a-days. That was another problem of hers. 

When Marinette first left, Adrien became distraught and distant. He began muttering to himself and not listening in class, dismissing everyone with a hum and a nod. The other students berated him for the behavior, wonderfully captured in Lila’s beautifully crafted web of words, but he hardly heard them. Or if he did, he didn’t care. He continued to write things in his notebook that certainly weren’t lesson notes and run his hand through his hair with frustration when he hit some sort of wall. 

It was irritating, of course, but nothing Lila hadn’t expected. Marinette was supposed to be his “very good friend”, after all. She would have been surprised if he hadn’t mourned the loss. What she didn’t anticipate, though, was the way he bounced back. 

It had to have happened a little over two weeks after Marinette left, because Lila remembered finally starting to feel comfortable in her new role of being able to lie unchallenged. She was spewing some crap about Marinette sending her mean messages, making sure her tears looked real enough and her sobs were believable, when Adrien decided to jump into the conversation. He flashed her a bright smile and, in the kindest voice she’d ever heard, asked her for the texts that Marinette had sent. 

The question alone had surprised her, considering the fact that he hadn’t really spoken to anyone in a while, but that smile he held was really the thing to set her on edge. It was simply too sweet-looking for someone who had just indirectly asked for proof of her story, especially when they both knew that she was lying. 

She couldn’t understand the change. He’d been cowering in the corner for the last two weeks, and yet that day, he was out for blood on her account. Why? What was the difference between the last two weeks and that day? She still doesn’t know. 

Adrien’s determination towards outing her cranked up to eleven after that . He went from barely talking to one person throughout the day to talking with everyone on a constant basis, and anytime Lila so much as uttered a sentence, he was there asking questions. When did she do this, who helped her with that, how did she manage to get from one place to the other so quickly- from a naïve onlooker’s point of view, Adrien would simply appear to be interested in Lila’s stories, but she knew better. He was finding holes in her stories and using them to rip apart her words piece by piece, all while using an innocent yet confused expression to make it seem like he was trying to help her. The strategy was completely different from Marinette’s, and it ticked Lila off to no end. How was she supposed to turn crowds against him and regain her throne if he kept acting like some pure-hearted angel?

She couldn’t. She knew she couldn’t, and he knew that she couldn’t, because that’s the exact same tactic that eventually got Marinette to leave the school.

A part of her had hoped that this newfound passive-aggression would fade after a few days, but now that three weeks of constant badgering on Adrien’s account has passed, that hope has been thoroughly and relentlessly crushed. He hasn’t done much over those weeks, thankfully, but she’s had to reinforce her lies ten times the normal amount to keep it that way. That’s a tad hard to do when all of your stories are on the grand scale of things. 

Even with her meticulous planning and words choices, though, one can’t escape subtle confrontation forever. She could tell that people were slowly starting to become suspicious of her stories. They were either wanting Adrien to be around during their discussions with her or were looking for holes themselves. 

Watching them exchange glances during her stories made her blood boil. Why did they have to be so nosy? So picky? Can’t she have a reprieve for once in her entire life? Can’t she just lie and manipulate others without the fear of getting caught? Why did that feel like such a big request from the universe?

Adrien and Nino waved to each other, and Lila perked up. It looked like they were separating. Were they separating? Oh, please be separating. That would be the most convenient thing to happen to her all month.

Adrien split off from Nino, to her delight, and Lila beelined after the blond. His meddling had gone on long enough, and she thought it was high time someone put an end to it. That someone being her. 

“Adrien!” Lila cooed, looping her arm with his and flashing a bright smile. “It’s been forever since we’ve talked just one on one, don’t you think?”

Adrien’s steps faltered, and for the briefest of moments, she saw his eyes darken. Nobody else would have noticed, especially not with the friendly smile he gave her right after, but Lila caught it. She was the only one who realized how truly despicable the model could be. 

“Oh, hey Lila.” He replied with an easy, clearly fake smile. “I guess we haven’t talked alone in a while. You normally like to be at the center of the crowd.”

Lila tried not to grit her teeth and instead elected to flip her hair over her shoulder. “Well, I wouldn’t say the center. I’m just being myself, and the others seem to follow.”

Adrien hummed. “Yes, I’m sure you're a wonderful role model for all of us. It isn’t everyday we get the courtesy of having an honest and kind friend like you.”

His sarcasm was palpable, but his shining smile remained. A part of her wondered why he even bothered acting at this point. They both knew they were at war now. Niceties were only necessary when someone was clueless towards hidden motives. Adrien wasn’t, and neither was she, yet here they were. Smiling and trading snide remarks in the privacy of the empty locker room. 

Lila put on a bashful expression. “Oh, please-”

“Of course,” Adrien interrupted her, “there was also Marinette. She was always ready to help someone. It’s a shame she had to transfer schools.”

Lila bit the inside of her cheek to avoid sneering. There he goes again, mentioning that ridiculous baker girl. It’s so infuriating.

“Even though she was a bully? I’m sorry, Adrien, but I don’t think you should forgive someone so easily. They’ll walk all over you if you give them too much leeway.”

Adrien slipped- or rather jerked -his arm out of Lila’s grasp as he exchanged some of his books. “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”  

Ah, there it is. That might have been the first genuine comment he’s made during this discussion. 

“What was that?” She asked with feigned politeness.

Adrien straightened and gave her another innocent smile. “Oh, nothing. I was just wondering if this could all be a big misunderstanding? The phone number that was terrorizing you wasn’t Marinette’s, after all. If you were.. mistaken.. on that story, perhaps you missed something in your other stories. Don’t you think so?”

Lila forced a smile so wide that her cheeks started to hurt. Was this his way of giving her an out? A last chance of mercy? Because if it was, she refused to take it. She’s built this kingdom with nothing but her bare hands, and she’d be darned if she decided to lie down and let him take it away just as quickly. 

“I can’t say I do.”

Adrien closed his locker, a certain glint coming to his eyes when he looked at her. “Well.. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what I find. Won’t we?” 

Rage crackled through Lila’s bones as Adrien walked past her, but she caught herself before doing anything rash. If she was going to counter Adrien’s sudden attacks, she needed to make a deal with him and get him off of her back just long enough to plan. And to do that, she needed to promise him what he apparently wanted most.

“What if it wasn’t her?”

Adrien stopped in the doorway, and Lila held her breath.

“..Because it wasn’t her,” he corrected, “I’ll be hoping that she comes back.”

Lila drew in a deep breath, if only to avoid screaming. Marinette, Marinette, Marinette- Why did he have to have to be so infatuated with Marinette? What could she possibly have that made Adrien want to fight against the whole school to get her back? 

“Alright..” She said, completely calm. “Say you were right. If it happened to turn out that Marinette wasn’t the one responsible and I convince her to come back, will we all be able to get along?”

Bile rose to her mouth as she spoke. The very thought of running back to Marinette and asking her to come back to Dupont made Lila’s stomach churn, but this was fine. She was only promising to bring Marinette back. Promises can easily be broken.

Adrien smiled, but not like the fake, warm smiles he’d been giving her throughout their conversation. No, this one was sharp, predatory, as though he could see right through her words.

“See you in class, Lila.”

The “golden child” left the locker room then, and Lila finally gave in to her frustration and let out a growl. This was supposed to be her victory, her turf, and yet she can’t even enjoy it anymore because Adrien freaking Agreste decided to meddle in business that wasn’t his. He knew that the only reason she was willing to compromise was because he was getting to her, and that burned her up inside. 

She drew in another deep breath and smoothed out her miniature ponytails. This was fine. Everything was fine. Adrien might be deciding to join the squabble a tad later than usual, but Lila invented this game. If he wanted to try his hand at her tactics and strategies, fine. He would soon realize why she was able to climb to the top in the first place.

~~~~~~~

Marinette stared out the car window with awe as they drove up the street towards Allegra’s estate. In the week that led to the group sleepover, Marinette had racked her brain day and night trying to decide what the mansion would be like. How tall would it be? How wide? Would it take up an entire street or a small square of Paris like Gabriel’s? Would there be butlers running around like in the movies or would there be a simple maid or two to keep things moving? Perhaps there wouldn’t be any hired hand at all? The excitement and anticipation made her buzz and bounce through the last few school days at Rosemary, but she refused to ask any questions during the wait for winter break. Marinette wanted the mansion to be a complete surprise. And now that she was finally here, sitting in the backseat of Allegra’s miniature limo and practically pressing her face against the window, she couldn’t be happier with that decision.

Mansions of all kinds lined the sidewalks, bigger and more elegant than she could have ever imagined. Some had marvelous fountains, while others had incredible gardens. Some had amazing walls with ingrained art that lined the premises, and one mansion even had horses grazing on their front lawn! It made her wonder why Gabriel would build his mansion in the middle of the city, or if any of these mansions might belong to Claude, Allan, or Felix. 

Near the end of the street rested a long brick wall that had elaborate, white statues decorating the major corners. Marinette guessed immediately that that was Allegra’s mansion, because the wall wrapped around an enormous white house that had silver railings for the balconies and blue-ish grey tiles for the rooftops, quite contrary to the golds and dark browns that came with the other mansions. It was beautiful in its simplicity, and that seemed like something Allegra would enjoy, even if the house belonged directly to her parents. 

Sure enough, the car rolled to a stop in front of the black metal gate that the brick walls led to, and the driver told Marinette to stay put as he hopped out of the vehicle. She watched quietly as he unlocked the gate by hand using a personal key and quickly found herself wiggling in her seat when he started pushing the gates open. They were so close! Allegra’s mansion was right there! If they didn’t start moving again in two seconds, Marinette might just jump out and start running.

The driver got back into the car with a small apology for the inconvenience- to which she assured him that it was fine through barely contained squeals -and they continued through the gate at a leisure pace, which killed Marinette inside. She wanted to get into the mansion now!

In an effort to remain still, her eyes flicked around the front lawn of the estate. The driveway they had pulled into appeared to be a full circle, looping around an intricate water fountain that spouted bursts of water in such a way that made the water look as though it were dancing.  Diamonds of dark green grass cut through the concrete in the driveway, leading to the rest of the vibrant grass on the lawn, and a delightful mix of bushes and flowers lined the inside of the brick wall as well the outside of the mansion. It struck Marinette as quaint and refined at the same time, and her respects went out to the person- or persons -responsible for designing and maintaining the look.

Finally, the limo parked in front of these wide, marble steps that led to the front door, and the driver barely had time to open Marinette’s back door before she leapt out with her bags in her arms. If the outside was this luxurious, she couldn’t wait to see how breathtaking the inside would be. 

“Thanks for the ride, sir!” She called over her shoulder as she hopped up the steps two-by-two.

“Oh, miss-!” The man yelled after her. “May I take your bags?”

Marinette skidded to a halt and turned around, ready to politely decline his offer, when another voice spoke up behind her.

“No need, Louis! I’ve got them.”

Marinette whirled back around, coming face to face with Allegra, who was now standing in the doorway with a bright smile. 

The blonde reached forward to take the bags with one hand, while giving Marinette a side hug with the other. “I’m so happy you’re here! This is going to be great.”

“I know! I’ve been waiting for this all week! Your house looks amazing.”

A grin spread across Allegra’s lips, and she pulled back from the hug in favor of grabbing Marinette’s hand. “If you like it now, just wait till you see the inside.”

The two girls waltzed inside together, but as soon as she entered, Marinette couldn’t help gasping and breaking away from Allegra to run further into the house. Tiled, marble floors stretched out before her, seemingly farther than the street she had just driven down, and on the other side of the bigger-than-life foyer was a set of large, open windows that touched from the floor of the first level to the ceiling of the second level. They overlooked the backyard, which was equally as enchanting as the front yard, and a part of her had the urge to sit down and stare at them wistfully for a good hour or two.

To her left and right were a pair of long, curved stairs that led to the second floor. They matched the marble tiles on the first floor and had beautiful, metal railings that curled and twisted into different types of flowers and leaves. The railing also trailed off to the open hallways above, where Marinette could see different types of doors lined up. Her restless brain wanted to skip up the stairs, brush her hand across the smooth, black railing, and explore each and every room possible.

Her gaze dragged up to the ceiling, and her jaw fell slack yet again as she realized exactly how high the building was. The circular sunroof that signified the center of the ceiling felt higher than the Eiffel Tower itself, and Marinette was certain that if she called out, it would take at least five seconds to hear her voice echoing back to her.

“Well?” Allegra asked next to her. “What do you think?”

“What do I think?” Marinette blanched. “Allegra, this is incredible! Do you really live here?”

A musical laugh came from the blonde, and she nodded. “Yep. Ever since I was five. Come on, I’ll give you a tour!”

They made their way to the stairs, and Marinette eagerly ran her hand across the cool railings as she continued to look around. She couldn’t believe how astonishing everything looked. It was as though they’d taken the finest jewels and rocks on earth and merged them together to create this mansion. How did they even afford all of this?

“What did you say your mom did again?”

Allegra glanced over at her. “My mom? She’s a-”

“Hey!”

The two girls paused mid step and looked up at the open hallway. Claude stood just above them, leaning over the railing and waving with a wide grin. Allan stood behind him, also offering the girls a friendly smile as a greeting.

“Is that Marinette?” Claude called.

“Yep! She just got here.”

“Sweet!” The brunette cheered. He dashed from his place upstairs and, once he got a good enough momentum, jumped to a stop, using his socks to slide the rest of the way to the stairwell. “We’ve been waiting forever for you to show up!”

Marinette giggled and ran up the rest of the stairway to give Claude a hug. “I got my clothes together as fast as I could.”

“Oh, you’re good.” Allan assured as he came to join them. “You’re technically early anyway.”

“I thought I was.” Marinette remarked, pulling away from Claude to give Allan a small hug as well. “Is Felix here too?”

“Nope, it’s just us right now.” Claude answered with a smile. “We already had clothes here from previous sleepovers.”

“They practically have their own personal closets at this point.” Allegra snorted. Then, she gave Marinette a playful nudge. “And soon, so will you.”

Marinette smiled. She wasn’t sure that she even had enough clothes to fill another closet, but it didn’t stop her from feeling giddy towards receiving one. Having a personal closet at Allegra’s meant she would be coming over much more often, and that was something she desperately wanted to do at this point.

“Have you shown her around yet?” Claude asked.

“Nope. I was gonna show her my room first, though, so I can put her bags down in there.”

“Oh, good idea.” The brunette remarked, taking the opportunity to snag Marinette’s bags from Allegra’s hands. “Let’s go! You’re gonna love it, Mari.”

With everyone together- save for Felix -the group eagerly clambered down the hallway that Claude and Allan had previously been in. The black railway from the staircase continued to twist down the hall next to Marinette, and when it finally stopped at a wall, Claude stopped at a doorway to his right. Glittering stickers arched across the door, spelling out the word “Allegra”.

“Those are from when I was, like, nine.” Allegra commented, a hint of a blush on her cheeks as she opened her bedroom door.

Marinette was about to say that it was fine- she actually found the lettering to be endearing -but any form of words or replies were lost on her when she saw the bedroom for the first time.

Everything was covered in light purples and white, with occasional bits of gold and light blue to accent the room. An enormous, deep purple bed with swirling, golden patterns sat in the center, holding pillows that were bigger than Marinette’s bed alone and a comfort that looked fluffier than her warmest ear-muffs. A pair of blue, see-through curtains wrapped around the bed as well, reminding her of something a princess might own. 

Across the room- which was twice the size of her little attic bedroom -were two white shelves that stretched from wall to wall and floor to ceiling. They held various things such as books, notebooks, miniature glass statues, and plenty of other trinkets that struck Marinette as charming. She wondered how long it must have taken Allegra to collect such things, or if she bought them all in one go as she decorated her room. There were even a few crystal wind-chimes hanging around the room. 

“This is..” Marinette wasn’t sure what it was as she walked inside, star-struck. The girl even had her own chandelier, for Pete’s sake! Then there was the massive vanity with a million different types of eyeshadow- all aligned perfectly in an orderly fashion -and the massive desk on the other side of the room that had a fancy paperweight and a nice, little trinket to hold all of Allegra’s pencils and such for school. Don’t get her started on the chair hanging from the ceiling that looked equally fancy and comfortable.

“Do I really get to sleep in here?” She eventually asked instead. Words couldn’t describe her thoughts on the room or how it looked like something out of a daydream. 

Allegra laughed. “Yep! We’re actually going to be spending most of the night here.”

“After we go swimming, of course.” Claude added as he set Marinette’s bags down in the walk-in closet.

Marinette’s eyes widened at the remark. She’d almost forgotten why she came here in the first place. “Where is the swimming pool?”

“It’s downstairs.” Allegra answered. “I can’t wait for you to see it. We have a water slide and everything.”

Marinette would have gasped, but after what she’s seen so far, she wouldn’t be surprised if they had their own personal zoo. “Can we go see it?”

“Absolutely!” The blonde smiled, looping her arm with Marinette’s. “But first, we need to finish our tour.”

The group made their way out of Allegra’s room and started exploring each door they passed. Claude, Allan, and Allegra took turns explaining each room’s purpose to Marinette, and she absorbed their words as best she could. Most of the time, though, she was lost in her thoughts, completely awed by the structure of the household.

Each room appeared to be bigger than the last, and some of them had Marinette nearly falling over from the amount of money that had to have gone into the décor. There were offices and dining halls and bigger bedrooms for Allegra’s parents. Then there were game rooms with pool tables and living rooms with couches that stretched around the entire room so everyone could see each other. Vases and sculptures lined the hallways and hid in the corners while extensive family portraits littered walls and held personal places on overly huge fireplaces. 

In a word, the entire mansion was extravagant, especially for a three-person family, but despite the overwhelming amount of space, Marinette could feel the warmth and familial love of each room. A multitude of memories resided in the walls, and she couldn’t wait to hear all of them.

One room in particular caught her attention the most.

“What is this place?” Marinette asked as she walked into another wide-spread room. Musical instruments of all kinds littered the area- harps, violins, cellos, pianos, guitars, mandolins, and other things she couldn’t even name. They all appeared to be in mint condition, so clean that she could see her reflection in them, and the little kid in Marinette wanted to run around and try each one of them.

“This,” Allegra said next to her, “is our music room.”

“Music room..” Marinette whispered as her hand ran over a pair of literal bongos. “Can you actually play all of these?”

Claude snorted behind them. “She definitely wishes she could.”

Allegra scoffed and smacked his arm with a playful glare. 

“No, I can’t play all of them.. But I’m working on it.”

“Wow.” Marinette muttered. That had to be time consuming. Where did she find the drive to keep practicing all of these? 

“..Can I touch them?”

“Oh, yeah! Touch them all. Go crazy. I can even teach you how to play a little tune for some of them if you want.”

Marinette lit up. “Can you really?”

Allegra chuckled. “Of course. We have all night, don’t we?”

Marinette had to bite her tongue to avoid squealing again, and she promptly darted off to try everything she could. Any strings and keys would be briefly plucked and pressed before being cast away for the next instrument. She would thump on the drums and blow on the tubas and, occasionally, she would stop to try a few simple tunes on an instrument that sounded especially enchanting to her. 

After about thirty minutes of this heaven- there were a lot of instruments -someone knocked on the doorframe at the front of the room, gathering the group’s attention.

A man with light brown hair stood in the doorway, offering an easy, yet apologetic smile. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Allegra, who had been teaching Marinette how to play the Panda Drum, hopped up from her position on the floor to greet him with a hug. “Not at all! I was just showing Marinette around the house. Mari, this is my dad, Arthur. Dad, this is Marinette, my friend from school that I’ve been telling you about.”

Marinette set the drum aside and stood up as well. “It’s nice to meet you, M. Chanson.”

“Oh, please.” M. Chanson held up a dismissive hand. “Just call me Arthur. Or even Uncle Arthur, if you like.”

A soft smile spread across Marinette’s lips, and she nodded. He sounded exactly like Maman when someone new came to their house.

“Anyway, I just came by to drop off the last bit of your group. He found me in the kitchen while looking for you.” Arthur said. He then stepped to the side to reveal none other than Felix, who had apparently been standing behind him the whole time.

Marinette perked up at the sight of the blond. “Oh, Felix! You’re here!”

“Here late.” Claude added with a smirk.

Felix shot him a look. “I’m not late. I told you all that I wouldn’t quite be here at the same time as everyone else.”

“Telling us that you’re going to be late doesn’t mean that you weren’t late.” Allegra pointed out. “It just means that you were considerate about your tardiness.”

Felix narrowed his eyes at her, knowing she was correct, and Marinette pursed her lips to avoid laughing, because she also knew that Allegra was correct.

“So I see you’ve been showing her my instruments?” Arthur cut in, redirecting the conversation.

Marinette’s eyes widened. “These are your instruments?”

Arthur chuckled. “Yep. In fact, I taught Allegra everything she knows.”

“You mean you can actually play all of them?”

“Well, some better than others,” The man responded with a half shrug, “but yeah. I’m honestly a little disappointed that A didn’t come get me when she showed you the room.”

Allegra winced. “Oh, sorry, Dad. I wasn’t thinking about it.”

“That’s amazing..” Marinette remarked, dumbfounded. She couldn’t imagine having enough memory to know how each individual instrument was played. 

Arthur tilted his head back and forth with a hum. “I wouldn’t say amazing. A lot of these instruments are extremely similar to how they’re played, and at some point, once you’ve learned enough, you start to realize that a lot of music has a certain order to it. When you know that order, it makes playing a lot easier.”

“Oh, don’t be modest.” Allegra scolded. “Who else can play almost all of the instruments of the world and memorize any new instruments within a week?”

Before Arthur could respond, Allegra turned to Marinette with a proud smile and continued.

“Dad’s able to combine these instruments like no one I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot. It’s like he’s memorized every string, key, or chord possible! He’s even written songs for us too. Some of them are just funny little melodies to go with Claude’s acts, but others are full songs that he performs for me and Mom. Sometimes, when Mom’s stressed, he’ll sing or play for her to help her relax. I personally think that the songs he writes then are the best ones.”

The more she talked, the more bashful Arthur became, and Marinette couldn’t help cooing at the man. The thought of someone writing songs for the person they loved and singing them when that person felt down brought a wonderful warmth to her chest. It actually reminded her of another sweet boy she knew, one with blue-tipped hair and a smile that could melt the arctic.

“I have a friend like that.” She decided to say. Why not tell the others about him too? “He has a passion for the guitar and plays songs for me when I feel down too. It’s so calming.”

Something in her tone or expression must have caught their interest, because the group’s attention shifted from Allegra to Marinette in an instant. Before she could ask about the sudden change, Claude slipped an arm around her shoulders, flashing her a sly grin.

“Oh? A friend, you say?” He drawled. “You sound pretty fond of him. What’s his name?”

An involuntary blush crept across Marinette’s cheeks, more so at the implication in Claude’s voice than anything else. After two years of hanging around Alya, with her raised eyebrows and coy smiles, she could tell when someone was trying to accuse her of certain feelings towards another. 

“O-Oh. uhm.. His name is Luka.”

“Luka..” Allegra hummed. “I’ve never heard you mention his name before.”

“And I’ve never seen her blush like that before, either.” Claude teased. “You’re not being very subtle, Nette.”

Marinette felt her blush deepen, even though they both knew she was easily flustered. She’s probably blushed a million times in the month that she’s known them, and most of those blushes were definitely darker than the one she was wearing even now.

Her gaze flicked to Felix, curious as to what he thought on the matter. His expression remained neutral, though she spotted a bit of intrigue in his eyes. It didn’t help with her guilt towards the comments.

Then again, why should she feel guilty? Even if she did like Luka, that wouldn’t affect anyone here. There was no reason to be ashamed.

Nevertheless, she still wanted to slip her way out of getting teased, so she jokingly rolled her eyes and said, “You guys said we were going to go swimming, right? Felix is here, and it’s getting dark so we should probably change before it gets too late.”

“The pool is indoors.” Claude helpfully reminded. “It doesn’t matter how late it gets.”

“But that was a good try at dodging, though.” Allegra smirked.

A squeak flew from Marinette’s lips before she could stop it, and the trio shared a laugh.

“Come on, guys.” Allan lightly scolded. “If you keep messing with her like this, she might spontaneously combust.”

Another laugh tumbled from Claude’s lips before he let out a dramatic sigh. “Alright, fine. I guess we can go swimming now.”

“Marinette has to cool off, anyway.” Allegra added with a wink.

Marinette groaned and put her head in her hands, if only to hide her ever-growing blush. 

Mental note: Never mention a boy to the group again, because they will probably see right through you when it’s actually serious.

Tag List:  @artbyknigit @athena452 @nickristus-dreamer @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @arsaem @abrx2002 @neakco @pawsitivelymiraculous @too0bsessedformyowngood @nathleigh @lusicing @officiallydarkgeek @all-mights-asscheeks @tbehartoo @woe-is-me0 @raeuberprinzessin @lazuli-11 @miss-chaos27 @trippingovermyfeet @sadpotatoondrugs @ladybug-182 @jaggedheart11 @marinahrasauce @i-need-blog-ideas @thewheezingbubbledragon @crazylittlemunchkin @unabashedbookworm @moonystars14 @sunflowers-and-mooncakes @2confused-2doanything @magnificentcrapposts @moonnette @nickristus-dreamer @vixen-uchiha @casual-darkness @luxmorningstarr @jjmjjktth @kaithehero @itsme1598 @theymakeupfairies @xjaccyx @miraculous-ninja @miraculouspenta @swiftie-miraculer13 @justafanwarrior @all-mights-asscheeks @ira-sairain @lookatthestars1 @dahjokester @blissful-passing @solangelo252 

[chaoticpuff17]

Suga We’re Going Down

part 10

masterlist

“Kang Y/N?” The man looked just as shocked as she felt as they stared at each other.

It had been years since she’d last seen him. Eun Jae hadn’t even been born yet. Ha Jin had still been at home. It all seemed a world away now, but he hadn’t changed. He stood before her just as tall and alarmingly handsome as he had always been.

“Is that really you?” He asked taking a step forward, a box shaped grin lighting up his face as though he hadn’t put her family through hell, as though he hadn’t gotten her sister pregnant.

“Kim Taehyung.” She stood up eyes still wide as she greeted him.

“It’s been a while.” He stood before her leisurely, smiling and completely at ease while she was anything but. “How have you been? How’s … how’s your sister?” The last question was a little more hesitant, a little less bright.

“I’m fine. Ha Jin is… I don’t actually know.” She laughed awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot as she avoided his eyes.

“You don’t know?” His brows furrowed in concern.

“I haven’t seen her since…” She paused unsure of what to say. “not since the baby was born.”

“Oh.”

Yeah. Oh.

“Is the baby…?”

“He’s fine.” She added quickly seeing the concern flash across his face at the question.

Taehyung sucked in a quick breath looking like he’d bee smacked across the face. “He?”

“He’s a boy.” She answered quickly. “His name is Eun Jae, after our grandfather. He lives with me now. Ha Jin didn’t… she wasn’t really the mothering kind.”

“Oh.” His voice was soft, awed and ashamed all at once.

“He’s two now.”

“And he’s…”

She smiled softly thinking of her little dude. “He’s amazing. The best kid in the world.”

She watched fascinated as a myriad of emotions passed over Taehyung’s face. Guilt. Curiosity. Hesitance.

“Do you… Can I….” She waited patiently as he struggled to find the right words. “Do you have a picture?” He finally managed to ask looking at her with an expression akin to that of a kicked puppy.

“Yeah.” She nodded shaking herself out of her own daze as she dug through her clutch for her phone. If there was one thing on her phone, it was pictures of Eun Jae. “Here.”

She handed the phone over and watched as Taehyung stared at a picture of her little boy. Looking at him now, she could see the resemblance between the two. Eun Jae definitely had some traits from his father, especially the nose. They both had the same nose and the same dark eyes.

“He’s beautiful.” He whispered awed as he stared at the screen.

“He is.” She agreed as Taehyung reluctantly handed her back her phone.

“Would it be… Could I…”

“Yes?”

“Could I meet him?”

That certainly hadn’t been what she was expecting. She hadn’t really thought that there was any chance that Eun Jae’s paternal family would come back into the picture. They hadn’t wanted anything to do with Ha Jin or the baby. It had in fact been made very clear to them that they didn’t want the baby anywhere near their family, and yet Taehyung was standing before her asking to meet her baby, his baby. No, it wasn’t his baby. Eun Jae wasn’t his. He wasn’t her sister’s. He was hers. She raised him. He was her baby and no one else’s.

“I thought you didn’t…”

“My parents didn’t.” He interrupted a frown marring his features. “I… I’d like to meet him.”

“I don’t know if that would be a good idea.” She hedged getting more nervous as the thought of Taehyung anywhere near her baby took full effect.

“Please, Y/N. I just want to meet him. He’s my son.” He was giving her those eyes again, those damn puppy eyes.

Despite the eyes, she stiffened up, her mouth set in a grim line. “He’s my son. I raised him.”

“Y/N.”

“You weren’t there. Ha Jin wasn’t there. I was. He’s my baby.”

“I just want to meet him.”

“I have to do what’s best for Eun Jae, and what good is meeting you going to do when you’re probably going to leave again?”

“I’m not going to disappear.”

“How do I know that?” She scoffed crossing her arms as she glared at him.

“I want to be a part of his life. He’s my son.”

“He’s my son.” She shot back, tone sharp. “Not yours.”

“I’m his father.” Taehyung argued becoming slightly more irritated as she resisted him. Her sister had always been a bit of a push over when it came to him, he hadn’t expected this much resistance from Y/N when he’d caught sight of her in the club. He’d just wanted to ask about Ha Jin and the baby, but seeing his son, Eun Jae, he wanted more.

“You’re not his father. Eun Jae doesn’t have a father. He has me, and he has Halmeoni, but he doesn’t have a father.”

“That’s not fair. I never had the chance…”

“And whose fault is that?” She snapped. “You and your family decided that you didn’t want anything to do with Ha Jin or the baby. That’s fine. We respected that decision. We didn’t ask you for anything. You have to respect my decision to protect my son.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Getting my seventeen year old sister pregnant wasn’t fair either.”

“Y/N…”

“Angel?” A different voice cut in as her coat was dropped over her shoulders. “He bothering you?”

She looked up to see Yoongi glaring daggers at the other man. If looks could kill, Taehyung would be dead several times over.

“I’m fine.” She assured him tucking herself into his side as he slung an arm around her shoulder. “Taehyung’s an old… friend.”

She wasn’t sure what else she could call him. They weren’t friends but it wasn’t as though she could say that he was her sister’s baby daddy and by extension her baby daddy. There were somethings that Yoongi just didn’t need to know.

“I see.” He nodded stiffly pulling her even further into his side.

“Kim Taehyung.” The other man held out his hand with a bright smile, but Yoongi ignored it glaring at him as though he was a bug underneath his shoes. “You’re a friend of Y/N’s.”

No response, and Y/N could see Taehyung shrinking under Yoongi’s harsh gaze. “We were just heading out.” Yoongi grumbled tugging Y/N back a little. “Ready to go, angel?”

“Yeah.” She looked up at him smiling shakily. She had never been good with tension, and there was tension in spades between those two. She wanted out of the situation as quickly as she could.

“Wait, Y/N.” Taehyung called taking a step towards them digging through his jacket pocket for something. “If you need anything, anything at all, call me.” He held out a business card to her, and Y/N could feel Yoongi’s gaze burning into her skull as she took it with shaky hands.

“She won’t be needing it.” Yoongi scoffed pulling her back again as she slipped the card into her clutch.

She didn’t want to be rude, and taking the card seemed like the easiest way to get herself out of the situation without prolonging it more than necessary.

“Let’s go, angel.” Yoongi kept a firm hold on her as he directed them towards the exit of the club.

“Call me!” Taehyung shouted after them.

Yoongi had been jealous before, more jealous than he had thought he’d be around his friends, but something about Hoseok dancing with his angel something about the boys watching her filled him with a simmering rage. She was his to touch, his to look at. Maybe his little show of possession had been a little over the top, but he couldn’t help but feel justified in it now.

He left for one minute and she already had men flocking to her. He couldn’t blame that on her though. She was too sweet, too innocent. It was the man’s fault. He’d come up to his angel and made her uncomfortable. No one was allowed to make his angel feel uncomfortable. No one else was allowed to touch her or look at her the same way he did. She was his.

Y/N felt the full brunt of his jealousy when they got to the car. Yoongi was on her immediately, pulling her up into his lap in a position reminiscent of the one she had been in less than twenty minutes ago. Her dress was hitched up around her upper thighs with Yoongi’s hands gripping her hips tightly as his lips attacked her neck.

“Yoongi!” She gasped surprised by the sudden ferocity of his actions. “What…”

“Mine.” He growled placing a soft kiss to her collar bone before biting down making sure to leave a mark.

“Yoongi.” She tried again, voice soft and soothing like she used with Eun Jae. Her hands went to his hair, her fingers gently carding through his hair making him pause in his assault of her neck.

“Mine.” He repeated more of a grumble than a growl now as he leaned into her touch resting his forehead against her shoulder.

“Okay.” She agreed with a soft hum.

They stayed like that for a moment before Yoongi lifted his head staring her down with those dark feline eyes of his. “You’re mine, angel.” He gripped her chin between his thumb and pointer finger as he forced her to keep her gaze locked on his. “Only mine. No one else gets to flirt with you or touch you or…” He trailed off with a frustrated growl releasing her chin.

“Okay.”

It was odd, possessive, but contractually she wasn’t allowed to date anyone else while she was in this arrangement with Yoongi. His reaction was a little worrying though. She was going to brush it off as a mix of the late hour and the drinks he’d had while they were at the club. People got odd when they got drunk.

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.” He huffed beginning to trail kisses up her neck again. “I didn’t like how Hobi was dancing with you either.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t like sharing, angel. You’re mine. Got it.” He lifted his head his gaze burning into her.

“Okay.”

“Say it.”

“I’m yours.”

part 11

[writesowhatnext]

game, set, match // oliver wood

Summary: Slytherin!reader is a complete flirt. Oliver Wood hates it; he promises. He’s sure.

Request: heyyyy! how about oliver wood with a very flirty slytherin!reader, where she's the seeker in the slytherin team? thanks!

A/N: I loved this request oml but also Y/L/N is your last name bc quidditch... sorry this took me so long to write bc this is like my dream request so I don’t know why I struggled so much but I really hope you like it

Reader: female, Slytherin

Warnings: flirting, innuendo, suggestive themes, making out

“We’re gonna train earlier, harder and longer,” Oliver said, completely unaware of the eye rolls of his teammates. He’d never been too good at noticing things like that, especially when his mind was so preoccupied with quidditch plays and quidditch teams and how he could get out of Potions faster to practice for quidditch.

You were quite observant, though, and even from across the courtyard, the Gryffindor captain caught your eye. Everyone had always said he was an excellent captain – obsessed, mind you, but brilliant all the same - but no one warned you about how handsome he’d be. You watched with poorly disguised intrigue as his face soured when he spotted Marcus Flint approach, a gaggle of green-cloaked students trailing behind him across the stone slabs.

“What?” Oliver huffed, scowling. “I don’t believe it.”

You couldn’t help but smile as his frowned deepened. You and Oliver Wood did not know each other: you weren’t in the same circles and you didn’t often stoop low enough to associate with Gryffindors, but his cute pout and angry brows made you rethink that rule of yours.

“Where do you think you’re going, Flint?”

Flint grinned; either he didn’t sense Oliver’s anger, or he didn’t care. Your money was well placed on the latter.

“Quidditch practice.”

Both teams edged closer to each other, each captains’ dull irritation turning the air stale. You regarded the tension with a rather amused grin.

“I booked the pitch for Gryffindor today.”

“Easy, Wood,” Flint said, his tone mocking. Oliver ground his teeth together. “I’ve got a note.”

Oliver snatched the scroll from his hands, peeling it open. His eyes scanned the words quickly, Fred looming over his shoulder to get a better look. You listened with equal parts smugness and intrigue as he read it out, his accent like music to your ears.

“I, Professor Severus Snape,” he said, his annoyance growing by the second. “Hereby give the Slytherin team permission to practice today owing to the need to train their new seeker.”

His eyes darted to Flint’s.

“You’ve got a new seeker,” he said dryly. “Who?”

The sea of green cloaks parted and you stepped out, your head tilted to the side slightly as you smiled at him.

“Hi,” you said lightly, wiggling the fingers of your free hand at him, the other clutched loosely around your broom.

You smirked as Oliver’s brows drew down, his team simultaneously sizing you up behind him. He recognised your face from Charms, or perhaps Defence Against the Dark Arts, he wasn’t sure. He tended to avoid Slytherins and looking at your teasing expression, he realised why.

“You’re the new seeker?” he asked, unable and unwilling to hide the incredulity of his tone. His eyes trailed over your face critically.

“Yes,” you said lazily, more amused than insulted. “Seems I’ve got a knack for it.”

“Right.”

“If I was more sensitive, I’d be offended, Wood,” you said slowly, wetting your lips. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

As you followed Flint towards the quidditch pitch, a renewed sense of excitement flooded through you. Sure, being on the quidditch team would be fun anyway, but now you had Oliver Wood to play with and so, the world seemed just that much brighter. You were more than pleased when you glanced back to see the whole Gryffindor team watching after you. With a wink and a wave, you disappeared down the hallway towards the pitch, grinning at the frown pulling at Wood’s brows.

“Blimey,” Fred said as they returned back to the common room, tails between their legs. “That new seeker’s definitely got the hots for you, Wood.”

“Did you see that wink?” George snorted. “She’s got balls, I’ll give her that.”

“What?” Oliver said shortly, stopping just before the Fat Lady’s portrait. He told himself that he was irritated about not being able to practice, but he couldn’t ignore the strange frustration he felt at hearing Fred and George speak about you as if they were impressed.

“Oh, don’t pretend you didn’t notice,” George said, rolling his eyes as he dipped through the portrait hole.

“She was eyeing you up the whole time.”

“What are you two on about?”

Fred and George shared a look as Wood retreated to his dorm, his thoughts plagued by your silly little wave and cocky little grin, his cheeks pink.

He found himself noticing you everywhere after that; a strange turn of events for him given his usual inobservance. At first, it was in Potions, listening to you laugh across the classroom, and then after that, he caught your eye in the Great Hall and yet again, you shot him a wink that had him frowning. He even met you waiting for the same staircase.

“Morning, Wood,” you said with that same teasing smile. He pursed his lips together, exhaling sharply out of his nose.

“Morning,” he said reluctantly, shuffling from one foot to the other. You stood there in silence for a moment, shoulder to shoulder as the staircase swung around.

“Are you a snitch?” you said conversationally, biting your cheek. You turned to face him, watching his expression contort in confusion.

“Am I a-“

“Because you’re quite the catch.”

He watched you walk leisurely up the stairs with his mouth open and his brows knitted together. Were you hitting on him? He swallowed, clearing his throat as a first-year thundered past him to reach the stairs before they moved again. He followed them up, feeling somewhat of a first-year again himself, before he huffed and annoyance ran through him at your audacity. Who exactly did you think you were?

He got his answer next time he saw you on the quidditch pitch. You were flirting, apparently. Gryffindor vs Slytherin games were always a struggle; it was hard to beat a good team as it was, but beating a good team that also cheated felt next to impossible. It didn’t help at all that you were so distracting as you hovered near him by the goalposts, watching for the snitch.

“You’re looking rather dashing today, Wood,” you said, balancing your elbows on the broom to rest your chin against your hand.

He rolled his eyes at your words, blushing slightly as he eyed your laidback position.

“And I know a fantastic way to make it up to you when you lose,” you said, amusement ringing through your tone.

“Don’t you have a job to do, Y/L/N?” he asked, feigning irritation. You grinned, pleasantly surprised that he even knew your name.

“I do, actually,” you replied softly. “I’m a hell of a seeker, you know. And I think you might be the one I’m looking for.”

His head shot up, his shocked eyes meeting your ever-present smirk.

“What exactly are you trying-“ he began, desperately trying to hide the way your words rattled him.

“Sorry, Wood, gotta run. Apparently, I have a job to do. I’ll definitely catch you later.”

You shot after the snitch towards the Ravenclaw stand, leaving Wood thoroughly confused in your wake, a strange stirring in his chest.

Gryffindor lost that game.

Everyone could tell that Wood was more irritated than usual at the loss, but nobody knew that it was because you were right and that he hated that you were right. It irked him that you were a hell of a seeker. It irked him that you were so cocky. It irked him that you flirted with him so brazenly. More than anything, it irked him that he found himself undeniably and unfortunately attracted to you.

His team could guess, though, the link between your flirty remarks and Oliver’s recently extra-aggravated mood. The twins specifically were fans of seeing Wood so flustered, and because of a girl no less. What they weren’t particular fans of was losing and Wood’s distracted state seemed to be the main contributor to Gryffindors recent streak.

“Okay, Wood,” Fred said, sitting on one side of him as George sat on the other. Never a good sign, Oliver thought.

“We need to talk.”

The Transfiguration class was filling up; they wouldn’t have long to talk some sense into their captain before McGonagall arrived.

“About?”

“The Slytherin.”

Oliver raised his eyebrows, busying himself with shuffling his parchment and trying not to let his feelings leak onto his face.

“Which Slytherin?” he replied, his words deliberate.

“You hear that George?” Fred snorted. “Which Slytherin, he says.”

“Oh, just the Slytherin that you’ve been flirting with for the past three weeks.”

“That Slytherin.”

“I’m sure you remember her.”

“She’s the one flirting with me!” Wood snapped loudly, defensively, drawing the attention of some Ravenclaws from the row next to him.

“So, you do know who we’re on about,” George said smugly, tilting his head to the side.

“Very well, it appears,” Fred nodded, smirking.

Oliver rolled his eyes and groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“What of it?” he said, his voice strained.

“You need to talk to her,” George said.

“Or tell her to stop,” Fred continued.

“Anything so we can start winning again.”

“You could hex her…”

“Or snog her…”

“Maybe you could just shag her in the broom-“

“Alright, alright,” Oliver said, his eyes narrowed as he scowled, unable to keep his cheeks from blushing. “You’ve made your point.”

“Excellent,” they said with matching grins as they walked over to their seats across the room, pushing each other on the way.

Even though Transfiguration was already ruined for the day, Wood was pleased that that particular conversation was over with. He didn’t think there was anyone he wanted to talk about you less with than the twins with their ruthless taunting. There was no way he’d be able to keep his thoughts from straying to you during class, but at least with Professor McGonagall teaching, his daydreaming would be kept to a minimum. The last thing he needed was the wrath of McGonagall; his recent performance in Quidditch was not helping him stay in her good books as it was. She hadn’t arrived yet, though, and so he let himself wallow a little bit, his head falling pitifully into his hands.

The first poke he felt at his shoulder he ignored, writing it off as an accident. The second had him sitting up straighter. The third time, he tutted, swearing quietly under his breath before he whipped around to see you, of all people, sat behind him. His eyes went wide at the sight of you and all of his frustration frustratingly melted into a puddle of nerves.

“Yes?” he asked, trying not to show it under your steady gaze. “Can I help you?”

“Well,” you said, your smile immediately filling him with regret at his word choice. “There’s a lot of ways you can help me…”

You trailed off as his expression turned guarded and your lips twitched. You leant forward onto your elbows, pleased when he didn’t recoil at the close proximity of your faces.

“I just wanted to say hi, though, for now.”

Oliver frowned; his suspicion obvious.

“…Hello, then,” he said hesitantly, his sweet little scowl making its way back onto his face. Surely you had to have some sort of remark planned, ready to fluster him once again.

“You seem rather stressed today.”

Oliver paused again before responding, not sure how to process your first proper conversation. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to share his current woes with you, especially given you were the cause, but your eyes seemed sincere for once and that incessant smirk seemed a little less hostile this close.

“I’m not everyone’s favourite person at the minute.”

“Ah,” you said, nodding knowingly. “Because of quidditch.”

He hadn’t expected you to be so blunt, but he was pleasantly surprised by it.

“Seems I’m a bit distracted.” He said, shocked by his own boldness.

His words hung in the air between you for a moment and he watched with wary interest as a smile lifted at your cheeks. He was struck, really, that he’d never seen you smile properly before. You had an excellent smirk and you portrayed vague amusement like an expert, but the way your eyes were crinkling had him doing the same. Your flirty remarks died on your tongue at the way he grinned at you, and you found yourself feeling more and more like a silly little school girl by the second. Flirting with him had started out as a bit of fun, especially when you caught his irritated glances and flushed expression, but by the way your stomach had turned into butterfly house, it was suddenly something else entirely, something actually quite nerve-wracking.

“I can give you a tip if you like,” you said, swallowing the lump in your throat. “An old wives’ tale about brooms. Might help you with your quidditch playing.”

He pursed his lips, enjoying talking to you more than he’d have liked. He doubted, looking at your face, that what you were about to say would help him, but he didn’t really care.

“Go on, then.”

Your smirk returned, but you were more nervous to deliver your line than you ever had been, hopefully, he didn’t notice.

“Don’t you think broomsticks have it bad?”

He frowned.

“They have to carry someone around all day, constantly destroyed by bludgers-“

“Is this going somewhere?” Oliver asked almost playfully, his brow raised. You shushed him, pushing his shoulder gently in scolding, an oddly informal gesture for the two of you.

“So, what they say is: save a broom, you know; just ride a quidditch play-“

“Ms Y/L/N.”

Your blood ran cold as Oliver turned around, Professor McGonagall somehow appearing right in front of him.

“Perhaps it would be a good idea to save your quidditch tips for outside the classroom, hm?”

Oliver realised with a healthy amount of surprise that, for the first time since meeting you, you were nervous, embarrassed even. Despite the scolding from McGonagall and the fact that this would land him even further away from her good graces, he couldn’t help but smile at your softness.

“Of course, Professor,” you replied, your voice uncharacteristically small. He bit his lip as he faced the front, struggling to contain his grin and struggling to ignore the funny feeling in his chest at seeing a different side of you.

Oliver was more stunned than anybody at how much he enjoyed your company. What surprised him the most, though, was how much he needed to see you again. How much your face plagued his thoughts.

“Oi, Y/N!” he yelled across the quidditch pitch, jogging over to you. He didn’t have a plan, per se, as you turned around and grinned, watching him stride towards you in his school robes. The closer he got to you and your teammates, all dressed in dark green, the more flustered he felt and he cursed you for a second for being so attractive in the sunlight.

“You alright, Wood?” you asked, folding your arms over one another and wetting your lips.

“Good, yes, yeah, you?” he said, slightly breathless from his run. You pursed your lips to contain your laughter at his flushed face.

“I’m fine,” you said, tilting your head to the side quizzically, an unspoken question.

“Can I- uh- borrow you?” he said, swallowing the tightness in his throat. “Alone.”

You turned to Flint with a raised eyebrow, your jaw clenched to suppress your smile.

“Only be a few minutes,” Oliver said, trying to appeal to Flint’s non-existent better nature.

“Please?” you said, beaming when Flint rolled his eyes, nodding reluctantly.

“What’s up, then, Wood?” you said, walking away from your teammates, your shoulders almost touching.

“Uh,” he said. What was up? What was he doing? Why didn’t he have a plan?

Looking at your amused expression and bright eyes, he floundered, not at all sure of what he was doing. He let out an uneasy chuckle when you waved your hands in front of his face.

“You seem… distracted,” you said, echoing his words from before, quietly pleased when he smiled.

“I am, actually,” he said, nodding with newfound confidence. “You’re very distracting.”

He hummed.

“All this flirting is awful for my quidditch performance, you see. Just can’t stop thinking about you.”

You paused, pulling your top lip between your teeth.

“Is that right?” you said, feeling your cheeks heat up as you raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, it is,” he said, stepping closer to you, his hands hovering just over your hips. “I suppose there’s only one thing to do about it.”

“Oh?” you said, swallowing apprehensively as he leant towards you. He smirked.

“You’re looking a bit nervous there, Y/N.”

“Me? Never, I-“

Before you could finish your unconvincing protest, you were interrupted by his lips on yours. Your stomach flipped at the feeling, but only a second passed before he pulled away.

His expression was panicked as he looked at you, your faces so close you felt his breath on your face.

“Oh,” you said softly, reaching your hands up to play with the lapels of his robes. “I always knew you were a keeper.”

He scoffed, throwing his head back and barking a laugh.

“Shut up,” he said, tilting his head to kiss you again, this time properly.

harry potter tag list:

@creator-appreciator​​ @decadentwastelandtrash @loveisblindness​​ @xinyourdreamsx​​ @brainlesspasta​​ @hariosborn​​ @staringmoony​​ @rexorangecouny​​ @alittletoomanyobsessions​​ @peachesandpinks​​ @yuptha-tsme​​ @obsessedwithrandomthings​​ @dreamer821​​ @iprobablyshipit91​​ @in-slytherin-we-trust​​ @haphazardhufflepuff​​ @princesof-theuniverse​​ @whovianayesha​​ @msmimimerton​​ @extra-trash77​​ @potterverseimagine​​ @my-own-mindpalace​​ @sxrensxngwrites​​ @damonwhitlock​​ @susceptible-but-siriusexual​

[nazyalenskyism]

Take My Hand, Wreck My Plans

Summary: A Zoyalai fic based on the prompt: “Some angst and comfort. Some reunion after a very, very long time.”  send me a promt and i’ll write you a blurb

           “Do you see her?” Genya called out, scanning the waves of people disembarking the ships on her tiptoes. It had been months since Zoya had been stationed in the Wandering Isle, a position she had specifically asked him for before the war had ended as they walked through the streets of Ketterdam. Despite Genya’s insistence that Zoya not leave, the two of them had known that it was a necessity. They were too close to crossing a line that they couldn’t afford to, and they had silently agreed that distance was the only way to remedy the problem. Nikolai had known that leading the country into a peaceful era was going to be taxing, but he hadn’t imagined how difficult it was going to be without Zoya at his side. He had come to rely on her, not only for matters of the state, but for matters of the mind too, and ever since she’d left all those months ago, he’d only felt the discontent in his heart grow. He thought he could temper his want for Zoya if she wasn’t constantly at his side, but he’d come to learn that there was a reason for the famous saying, ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’, being so popular. Nikolai could hear his general’s voice in his ear, could picture the roll of her eyes at the confession, how she would threaten to call Tolya into the room so that the two could lament over forlorn poetry while she got drunk with Tamar, Genya and Nadia. Saints, he missed her.

            “It’s dropped anchor late,” Nikolai called back, slipping his timepiece back into his pocket, brushing his fingers against the cool velvet ribbon before turning to Genya. “And besides, it’ll take them a bit to disembark and--”

          “Nikolai,” Genya gasped in response to a sudden commotion at the gangplank. Nikolai’s head snapped up spotting the daub of blue silk descending down the plank, supported on either side by First Army soldiers. Zoya.           “Move,” Genya yelled, elbowing her way through the crowd, Nikolai hot on her heels. If the sickly pallor of her face and droopy lids of her eyes weren’t alarming enough, the way that she crumpled into his arms was and matted blood in her hair were. 

          “Commander Nazyalensky? Zoya?”           A low, unintelligible groan sounded from her lips and Nikolai’s heart dropped. What had happened to her? At Genya’s command, he laid Zoya out on the ground, letting Tamar assess her condition. Tamar’s hands hovered over Zoya’s form, and after a long moment, the Heartrender spoke. “She should be fine, but we need to get her back to the Dacha, we need more healers.”

          Genya grasped at Tamar as Nikolai carefully lifted his general into his arms, “is it that bad?”           “She’s lost a lot of blood, it’s a messy and difficult process that I don’t want to try in the back of the carriage. She should be okay.” 

          “She has to be fine. I can’t lose her too.” Tamar squeezed the other girl’s shoulder at the words before hopping into the driver’s seat with Tolya, briefing him on the situation while the others settled into the coach.           “Come on, Nazyalensky. Hold on a little while longer,” Nikolai whispered as they tore down the road, Zoya’s unconscious form limp in his arms, Genya’s shaking fingers curled into the blue silk of her kefta, as if she could force Zoya to stay with them.

          The next few hours were a blur in his mind. As soon as the carriage stopped, the Tolya offered to take Zoya in his arms but Nikolai refused to leave, carrying her to his chambers. For once his head was clear of anything but the situation at hand. They’d lost so much, they couldn’t afford to lose Zoya. He couldn’t bear to lose Zoya.           He stood by the window as the healers got to work on his general, applying their training in the small science to replenish her blood and heal her wounds. Nikolai knew that the Corporalki were more than capable, but he knew as well as anyone the potential for things to go wrong, no matter how good the odds were. 

          Nikolai was brought a basin of water to wash off with, a stack of urgent letters, and the reports from the crew of the ship and their account of the events that had left Zoya in this state. Once he’d read the reports, he sent the letters away, nothing was more urgent than this.           After what seemed like an eternity, Tolya sent the healers away, stating that he and Tamar could finish the job themselves, but he knew the reason they did this. It was because Zoya would’ve hated to appear vulnerable before this many people, she would probably admonish them all after she woke up for having the audacity to view her in her injured state, despite being her closest friends. It was when they were alone, Genya in one corner of the room, Nikolai in the other, with the twins standing over Zoya when the silence was broken once more.           “You’re not allowed to let her leave again.”           He scrubbed a hand over his face before turning to Genya, “even if I tried, do you think she would listen? Zoya Nazyalensky takes orders from no one, we all know that.”           “Don’t let her look for reasons to leave. Give her a reason to stay. ” Before Nikolai could fully process the meaning behind her words, a low groan caught their attention. “Nikolai?”           I’m here, he wanted to say, but for the first time in his life, apprehension held him back.           “Where’s Nikolai,” she mumbled again, writhing enough to disrupt the twins’ work. He was at her side in an instant, sinking onto the mattress and taking her reaching hand in his.           “I’m here,” he whispered, brushing her hair back from face, watching the crease in her brow ease as she unconsciously leaned into his touch. Her movements stopped, her body relaxing back into sleep, and Nikolai felt his heart tighten at the way she curled into him.           He felt stares from their friends, but no one said anything aside from Zoya’s occasional calls from him whenever he stepped back to let the twins continue their work. Every time she called, he was there, brushing back her hair, holding her hand between his, murmuring words of encouragement he knew she wouldn’t hear or remember. Around twilight, Nikolai realized that his friends had left them, the quiet of the room felt suffocating now that they were alone. It felt wrong that she was the one injured and asleep while he watched over her, for months their positions had been reversed, and while he hadn’t missed being chained to his bed every night he had missed the time it had given him with her. She had been the first thing he saw in the morning, the last thing he saw at night for months, and he hadn’t realized just how much he missed what that particular practice of theirs had given him.           He slowly pulled his hand from hers, easing into a chair at her bedside. “I’m sorry I let you go,” he whispered, closing his eyes for a moment before he heard her voice.

          “Nikolai?”           “I’m here,” he replied, helping her into a sitting position, and filling up a glass of water for her before settling down himself.           “You’re really here?”           “I know it’s hard to believe, as handsome as I am, I’m not a dream.” He smiled at her irritated exhale, “long time no see, Nazyalensky. You’re looking as darling as ever.”

          “You look worse. Much worse than I remember.”

          “I know I must be devilishly handsome in your fantasies, but a day spent tirelessly at your bedside may have me looking a little worse for wear, I’ll admit.”           “Where are we?” Her dark lashes fluttered against her golden cheeks, voice hoarse but the colour seemed to have returned to her face.  

          “Udova. The twins said that you needed more Corporalki to help stabilize you. You lost a lot of blood.”

          “This is your ancestral estate?”

          “Given how my father is Fjerdan, I don’t think it’s technically mine.” 

          “You used to come here as a child?” faint amusement lit her eyes, “baby Nikolai reigning terror on everyone, or holed away in the library, reading books until you couldn’t see straight?”           “Both.” 

          “Of course, I would expect nothing less.” A lingering silence followed her words, neither sure of exactly how to proceed.           “How are you feel--”

          “You look tired,” her hand reached out, and before he could react, she was cupping his face softly, thumb gently stroking along his cheek. “Have you been sleeping?”           “Yes.”

          Her stern gaze met his eyes, “your lies don’t work on me.”

          “First you’re immune to my charm, and now my lies. Keep this up and you’ll put me out of business, Nazyalensky.”

          Zoya’s hand dropped suddenly, her whole body recoiling at his words, leaving him to shudder from the absence of her warmth. Was she so horrified at the mere idea of being charmed by him? Nikolai sank back into his chair, unsure of how to proceed. Zoya sat staring down stubbornly at her intertwined fingers, and he couldn’t take it anymore, he needed answers. “What happened out there? You almost died Zoya.”

          “I was protecting the crew.”

          “You were unnecessarily throwing yourself in harm's way and you know it. I got the report from the Captain, he said that they would’ve made it safely to port without your heroics.”

          “I had no choice! It was either me or them.”           Nikolai laughed humorlessly, running a frustrated hand through his hair, an action he had repeated countless times today. “That’s not true and you know it. Four years as Commander of the Second Army, of working with me and you couldn’t come up with an alternative? Do you get joy out of nearly getting yourself killed?”

          “No,” she hissed. “You would’ve done the exact same thing without a moment of hesitation, don’t act like you wouldn't have.”

          “It doesn’t matter what I would’ve done. What matters is that you shouldn't have done it in the first place.”

          “I’m a single soldier, I’m expendable. The intel we gathered, my unit, the crew, they weren’t. It was an easy choice, one I’d make again.”

          “For Saints sake, you’re not expendable Zoya!” he burst out. Why was she so convinced that she was? 

          “I was there to lead them--to protect them. If you’re worried about being down a general, you know there are more than capable replacements for me, Nikolai. ”

          “You’re not replaceable! I don’t need anyone else. I need you, Zoya!” The words were breathless, and once they were out he couldn’t reel them back in.

          His words hung in the air before she began to nod slowly, as if she had been expecting the outburst, “as your general.” It wasn’t a question, but it was. 

          “Yes, but it’s more than that.” Why was he having such difficulty saying it? How did he explain the all encompassing nature of his feelings to Zoya? Brave and beautiful Zoya, with her eyes hesitantly, maybe even hopefully trained on him?           Nikolai wanted  to take her into his arms and explain that ever since they’d been dragged into the Fold by Saints, he had felt a connection to her, that he could taste the ice wine they shared on quiet nights, smell her signature scent of wildflowers on the wind wherever she was near. He wanted to tell her that he felt a connection between them, as palpable as a golden thread binding them together, and wondered if she felt it too. Nikolai desired to tell her that at her departure, he had felt like the thread had been pulled and pulled until he couldn’t breathe, only for it to suddenly snap back like an elastic at the news of her return, an overwhelming sensation of longing overtaking his senses. He wanted to tell her that when he first saw her today, it had felt like someone had pierced his chest with a lance, an agony rivaling only what he’d felt when being impaled by the thornwood that day in the Fold, the same day he’d felt his fate be irreversibly bound to hers. He wanted so much, he couldn’t stop himself from leaning forward in his chair, uttering words he could never take back.

            “I want you. I want you all the time, Zoya.”

            “You want me, but will you have me? Are you not bound to your duty as king to choose the best person for your country?” To anyone else her face would appear impassive but he knew the way her eyes widened slightly, the way her lips parted, when she was holding her breath, afraid to hope that something was true. She wanted it to be true.

            “If my country and I are one and the same,”  he began, taking her hand in his, “then I shall only give it what it most deserves, and hope I am worthy of it too.”

            “Can you let yourself do that?”           “A king can do as he pleases, can’t he?” She turned away at those words, and Nikolai reached out, cupping her face and bringing her gaze back to him. “I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t stay. I thought we both knew what was right at the time, and it’s clear that we were both wrong.”           “Go on,” she whispered, her shining eyes locked on his.           “I don’t want you to leave again. I want you here, by my side, for as long as time will let me, if that’s what you want.”           “What are you proposing?” Her hand slid up to his and she leaned further into his touch.           “A coquettish courtship, a exuberant engagement, a whirlwind wedding and when all that’s said and done,” he angled his head towards hers, “hopefully many, many years of peaceful and quiet companionship.”           “Sounds perfect,” Zoya breathed, her gaze trained on his lips, “except for one thing.”           Nikolai pulled back, afraid that he’d alarmed her, “what?”           She wrapped her arm around the back of his neck, pulling him down towards her, “you expect me to believe that a single moment with you will be quiet.”            “I can think of several ways you can shut me up if I ever get to be too much. I think you’ll find that I am easily--” Zoya crashed her lips against his, and despite the harsh words she always seemed to have readily on hand, he felt her smile against him. For once in his life, Nikolai let himself relax, knowing that the rest of the world would still be there when they were ready to face it, together.

[goddessofmischief]

Blue Monday, Chapter Four - Loki x T.V.A.! Reader

Chapter Four... ‘Ladies and Gentlemen’

You almost wanted to step outside and freeze again. Better that, than to be faced with this - on your first-ever mission with a partner, no less. In a matter of hours, you had almost frozen to death. You had pretended to be a goddess - one that uncomfortably resembled you. And, worst of all, there was only one bed. Yeah. Really.

“We-ell,” you said, awkwardly, untangling your hand from Loki’s. Now that you were finally left alone, you didn’t have to keep pretending. But you did have to sleep somewhere.

“Let’s not pretend that this isn’t... difficult,” said Loki, “...Because it is. But don’t worry. I don’t share.”

You laughed. “Really? Kicking me out onto the floor, Odinson?”

“It would seem so. Alternatively, you can make peace with the fact that nothing is happening here, and allow it to be nothing.” “Oh, you think I’m the problem?”

“I truly do.”

“I’m the problem? Not the guy who pretended I was his wife though, right? There’s no way that maybe you’re the one who’s got some issue?” Loki crossed his arms, chuckling, and sat down on the bed. “If you’re implying that I feel anything for... a mortal like yourself, you’re wrong.” “Prove it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Prove it. Keep me warm.”

You cuddled up to him, and Loki sighed, covering you both up with a warm, woolen knit blanket. “You’re not really as warm as you thought I’d be,” you whispered, your breath hot against his freezing collarbone. “Loki, maybe you should take all the blanket-”

“I’m fine.”

He spoke like he didn’t want to go any further into the matter, so you didn’t push it. Simply closed your eyes, tried to breathe. “G’night.” Loki doesn’t respond. But you both fall asleep smiling. ... “Get up.”

You hadn’t woken up next to another person for forty years. And Loki was not making the experience any easier. Apparently, the God of Mischief is an early riser. “We lose light in four hours.”

“Don’t we want to lose light?” you muttered, yawning, rubbing at your eyes. “Well... yes. But we have to be at the fortress where they’re keeping the tesseract much before then. Remember, you don’t hold up in the cold, darling. We’ll need to make the trek before night falls.” “Which means...”

“Which means we leave now.”

Neither of you had changed out of your clothes, so you didn’t have to get ready. Loki looked as if he hardly needed sleep at all. You, however, felt like a mess. You were a mess. Your hair was untidy and unstyled, your skin still sore and red from the cold the night before. These things had never mattered to you before - really, they hadn’t. When you were at home, on Earth... even then. In the 1970s, most people weren’t wearing makeup, anyway. Most of them barely wore clothes.

You tugged your pant leg down, uncomfortably, attempting to ignore your appearance in the mirror. “You’re not honestly self conscious, are you?”

Jerk.

“No,” you said, smoothing down your jacket. “No, why would I feel self-conscious in front of a... well, whatever the hell you are.” “If you do, love, you shouldn’t.” Loki leaned back, seemingly pleased with himself. “You look...”

“Professional,” you interrupted, reaching over and brushing one of your stray hairs from his coat. “Professional, always.” ... The trek was actually kind of... nice.

Long, and exhausting. And filled with melting, slippery roads, still wet from the snow before. But nice. And shockingly silent, for a man who infamously loved to talk. But you couldn’t be mad at him for it. You liked Loki quiet. “Careful,” Loki said, reaching over to you, offering his hand to help you over a puddle. “I’m fine - oh!”

To the surprise of neither of you, you had slipped - and Loki had swept you off your feet, literally. “Are you going to carry me all the way, or-”

He unceremoniously dropped you. “Ow!” “I wouldn’t want to humiliate you, sweet.” “How considerate, darling.”

For the first time, you’d hurled one of his venomous compliments back at him - and it felt pretty damn good. He became completely stiff, still managing to walk, but no emotion or expression crossed his face. “You okay there, ‘Oki?”

He nodded, a little more quickly that most people would.

“Yes,” Loki said. “It’s just, that was spoken like-” 

“Spoken like what?” 

“Spoken like her,” he said. “And yet...”

...

Loki was continuing to make your existence a joyless one.

For one... you’d just arrived at the fortress.

A fortress Loki seemed to have no interest in helping you get into.

"Damn it!” you shouted, rushing up against the gates. “They’re... they’re locked.”

Loki was sensing your frustration. He knew it, and you knew it. And you could practically see the little gears turning in his mind. He was trying to wind you up, and you just wouldn’t let him.

“Just use your powers.”

“I don’t have any powers!”

You were on the edge. Loki was determined to make you fall off.

Well... not today. 

“Alright,” you said, finally.

“Alright... Loki. You stay here. I’m going to go around the side.”

“What? Why?” He sounded panicked, and for all the wrong reasons.

You shrugged.

“They might have left it open. Or... maybe, there’s a key under the mat.”

“You must be joking.”

“You must know that I’m not.”

“Never mind that. I’ll use my powers, and... they’ll surely hand the Tesseract over when they see who is demanding it. You saw that town back there. Even if they’re not quite as zealous as the others, these people must adore me.”

“Or.... maybe not.”

“Come again?”

You gestured at a wooden sign, trying to contain your laughter.

Törvedalen.

Which, if the simple Norse you learned had not failed you, translated to the Valley of Thor.

“Maybe that’s why they took the tesseract from the other town,” you managed, gulping as you watched Loki’s briefly irritated, then furiously incensed expression. “Maybe... there’s a little bit of a war going on here, over who they like best. You gotta admit, Loki, that statue in town was pretty oversized.”

“It was exactly adequate - whose side are you on, anyway? Are you not my partner?”

You shrugged.

“I’m just trying to help.”

Loki saw your worried expression and softened, slightly, his hands unclenching.

“Alright,” he said. “So we’ll go in - together. I’ll talk to them. I’ll make them understand - and they’ll get exactly what they bargain for, one way or another.”

“Do I have to be Amora again?”

You sounded pathetic, admittedly - you felt pathetic.

Luckily for you, Loki shook his head.  “No, love. Just be Y/N L/N. That should do it.”

...

“Hello!” called Loki, having strolled through the front gate - it turned out his magic was completely effective at undoing non-magical locks, and he could’ve opened the gate the whole time. He was just toying with you.

As usual.

“Hello!”

“Y’know,” you said, trying to keep your voice low, “Y’know, we don’t really have to shout, if we stay quiet we might be able to get the tesseract and sneak-”

“Don’t pester me. I could use a little Amora right now.”

Well, that stung.

“Well, she isn’t in,” you muttered, holding a dimly lit torch up to another sign. “She’s not here. She’s not even real.”

“Really, this again, darling? You’ve forgotten so easily the art we saw in the village. That didn't look real to you? Would you prefer, perhaps, a larger painting?”

“That doesn’t mean anything, and you know it. How do I know you’re not just screwing with me? You trick people. It’s sort of... what you do.”

You knew you were being mean - well, mean for you. He was your partner, shouldn’t you be kind and tolerate his little... eccentricities?

Then again, Loki was sort of wrecking you, mentally. The last time someone did that... you’d just let it happen.

Well. Not this time.

“Guilty,” Loki admitted, his voice lowering. It wasn’t threatening, instead, it was actually sort of... nice?

Kind of nice. Almost sweet.

“But this isn’t a trick, I’ll promise you that. It means just as much to me that I learn to understand this - because for once, I know as much as you do, love. So it's up to us. To figure it out, together-”

Just then, a group of Nordic warriors stormed in.

Holding axes.

“They’re holding axes,” you whispered, tugging on Loki’s sleeve. “Loki, they’re-”

“I noticed - gentlemen, what can we do for you?”  He repeated the last sentence again, this time in Old Norse.

The group shouted something back at him.

“What’d they say?”

“Something about 'a light cube.’ Our light cube, I presume, unless there happen to be others.”

“Ask them if they can give it to us.”

“Sweet, you have to know they won’t.”

But he translated your request, all the same.

“He said that they can’t,” said Loki. “Because... of their leader?”

“Do you know who leads them? Is it Thor?”

“No... this is... an alternate Earth. It wouldn’t be my Thor... it could be someone else...”

“Tell them to take us to the leader.”

“My, aren't you bold? What makes you think this leader won't just kill us?”

“I don’t know! But it’s worth a try, yeah?”

Loki rolled his eyes, attempting to translate again, and one of the Vikings responded.

“They’ve agreed. To take us to... who is it, again?”

The Viking shouted something out, and Loki’s face paled.

"What did he say?”

“He said,” said Loki, clearing his throat, “That... he’d bring us to the leader. Their leader, the new ruler of Törvedalen ... Lady Loki.”

Taglist: gorgeourrific-nerd @suwupremeleader​ @sserpente @tripleyeeet 

[shoichee]

Hello! Can I perhaps ask for no. 28. “Make me” from your prompt list for my beloved Imayoshi? It's so nice seeing him here on your theme and avatar and that pERFECT url, it feels like I finally found my people.

HELLO HELLO, and YES I WAS SO SURPRISED THAT NO ONE TOOK THIS URL... considering that it was just an alternative spelling of shoichi and its a rlly short handle too mwehe // im sort of a particular person when it comes to how something looks, whether itd be outfits, drawings, coloring, and the UI of a blog, u name it.... i may have spent hours trying to have the perfect colors for this theme PLEASEEEE, but without further ado here is our man, our little shit, Imayoshi

@knb-kreations howdy! another new work posted here!

Imayoshi x Reader

28. “Make me”

Word Count: 2331

prompt list here

»»—————　☼　—————««

Imayoshi doesn’t exactly know how he feels about you.

Scratch that, he does know. He’s quite amused at the shenanigans you pull on others around you, and a lot of times, you actually elicit a few dry laughs out of the guy. Other times though, he’d wish that you would just shut the fuck up, especially when all he hears amidst his studying was your loud “whispering” and “hushed” jokes. How you were always nearby no matter where he is was still a mystery that he casually ponders about from time to time. Perhaps your natural tendency to project your voice creates the illusion that you were near when you really weren’t?

No matter, such trivial thoughts can’t occupy his mind when college entrance exams loom closer. Then again, they weren’t particularly difficult; they were simply a hassle to secure near-perfect scores, especially when his chances of admittance rely critically on how well he does.

“That’s an awful drawing of a samurai,” Susa comments, snapping Imayoshi out of idle thought.

“Ho? Is it really terrible if you were able to tell what it is?” Imayoshi chuckles. “The point of a drawing is to convey the right idea or emotion. It seems that my drawing skills hit a bulls-eye with this sketch, no?” He playfully spins his pencil around, patiently waiting for his reply to goad him.

All Susa does in response is to roll his eyes before he turns his full attention back to his notes. He knows better than to try a comeback against Imayoshi, who can easily make it backfire against the person with a pleasant close-eyed smile. Imayoshi, seeing Susa’s nonverbal resign from engaging further banter, also looks down back to his book of scribbled notes and chicken-scratch drawings before he exhales an inaudible sigh.

School just doesn’t cut out to be mentally stimulating for him. It’s a little too repetitive and mundane for his taste.

“Argh!! Oh no!” your voice rang out, despite your poor attempt to be reasonably quiet. “I forgot applications for the Coca-Cola scholarship are due today!”

Coca-Cola… what?

Everyone looks up to warily eye you, and your few friends, who are currently rushing to pull you down and slap their hands over your mouth to mute you, were panicking at the new attention you managed to garner. Even still, your mind seems more fixated on whatever was on the laptop’s screen, rather than what they were doing to you.

Imayoshi can’t help but stifle his audible mirth from how you manage to change the mood of the entire library within seconds.

“How do you even forget something as important as a huge scholarship like that?” Susa says in dismay. “Makes me kind of wonder how (l/n) would handle life after graduation, to be honest.”

“Well,” Imayoshi begins. “I wouldn’t worry too much. It’s best not to underestimate (l/n)-san. Surely we’ve learned our lesson with Seirin?” He toys with the pencil grip before he sporadically draws some lines loosely resembling another sketch.

“Drawing again?” Susa raises a brow. “Have you even been studying?”

“Well,” he replies. “There’s still plenty of time before exams—months to be exact. Could you even study with the current distractions in here?” At his own words, he nudges his chin in your direction.

“It’s not just any exams though, it’s—”

“Whether they have more importance or not doesn’t really concern me. After all, standardized testing isn’t worth stressing out for when we’ve taken essentially the same thing all our lives.”

“What most are worried about is the content inside the exams, Imayoshi,” he said, carefully treading into dangerous waters with Imayoshi’s tendency to take all replies as mind-game challenges for his own amusement.

“‘If you have been paying attention consistently throughout the year, you wouldn’t be having much trouble…’ that’s what you once oh-so-wisely said to Wakamatsu yesterday, hmm?” His mimicking tone drips a hint of arrogance. “Unless you mean to tell me my ears do not work? But by all means, please feel free to correct me.”

“That’s different,” he sighed, his face clearly evident that he was done with Imayoshi’s shit. “That exam only tested content for the past year, not your entire academic repertoire over the courses of middle and high school.”

“I’d like to think that the logic still applies the same way.”

“Well,” Susa heaves with a languid stretch. “You generally score better on the exams than me, so you’re probably right. Still, don’t neglect your studying.”

“Right, right, Susa-senpai~”

“... Please don’t call me that again.”

“... If you say so,” he said, but his smile blatantly showed his real intentions of never stopping his irritable quips. Susa gets ready to pack up his book bag before he heads out the door with a friendly wave. Imayoshi half-heartedly returns the gesture with a casual wave of his own. He immediately notices you also packed up and about to leave with a worried frown, and of course, while audibly mumbling your concerns and makeshift schedules to accommodate time for last-minute essay writing. By now, all of your friends have left for home.

“Ah, biology lab due next week, kanji worksheets due tomorrow, hmm, um, how would I finish this on time… ah, calculus test is tomorrow too, ah shit… should I ask someone to tutor?—ah, but it’s super last minute, and there’s still that scholarship… argh, fuck!” Your voice peaked in volume at the end, and the librarian immediately shot daggers at you.

“Shhhhh!”

“A-Ah! S-Sorry, sorry!”

Imayoshi was watching you with his chin on his arm propped up on the desk, unable to control the smile that escaped his lips. You really were entertaining to watch, and you never cease to bore him.

He turns away to crack his neck and roll it around before methodically packing up his writing utensils and notebooks. Soft shuffling filled the air as he rearranged the items inside his bag. As he turns to pack the last thing on the table, which happened to be the notebook filled with his idle doodling, his face slightly softens at the drawing he did after the samurai. Yes, the one Susa chastised him for when he could’ve been studying. Yes, perhaps he was right when he was terrible at drawing after all; your panicked face and wild hand gestures didn’t really translate well into paper, and it looked a little too much like a horror comic and less than a sketch of you. Still, he’s oddly proud of it.

Imayoshi promptly pushes the chair in and leaves the library, but when he rounds the corner of the adjacent hallway, he bumps into you.

“Er—hi! I mean, please, uhhh… if it isn’t too much to ask—canyoupleasetutormeforthecalculustesttomorrowbecausemyfinalgradedependsonthat?”

Imayoshi winces at the sheer volume of your voice and plugs his ears in out of habit to block out some of the decibels. Wakamatsu was eerily similar to you in that regard. Only difference between the two of you was that you were deceptively intelligent. Extremely so.

“My, my, if it isn’t (l/n)-senpai!” He fakes a surprised look, earning him an eye roll on your end. “You need someone like me to teach you the works?”

“I—what? We’re literally in the same calc class, Imayoshi,” you retort. “Besides, drop the ‘senpai’ honorific. It feels so slimy when you say it so disingenuously… Aren’t we both 3rd years too?”

“I’m so hurt,” he mocks. “What if I was really genuine with you?”

“Look, right now, no remarks from you, Evil Glasses,” you say. “It’s really, really urgent and I don’t know how to grasp the material for the class lately, plus my essay, ugh…” You rub your fingers against your temples in an attempt to make the stressful headaches disappear while Imayoshi simply watches with his eyes slightly open.

“... You usually do well on all your exams, no? Unless my eyes and memory fail me.” It was true; even though you were as loud-mouthed as Wakamatsu, you would often shock a lot of people when your name always appeared in the higher percentiles of exam results. Apparently most students and teachers associate your rowdy personality with an expected subpar academic performance. He has you to thank for when your score reports always cause reactions of utter disbelief from the teachers. You really do liven up the school and make it a lot more unorthodox.

“I guess…” you mumble. “But I really wanna do especially well for this one because math is my weakest subject, and you always score the highest for these types of exams, so…”

“It may be my best subject,” he says, leaning slightly closer to your face. “But I’m not the one with the highest scores in any math subjects throughout these years, and we both know that quite well, don’t we, (l/n)? Why don’t you come clean about the real reason why you’re here?”

“Oh my literal fuck—Imayoshi, you’re one of the best students in calc right now regardless of exam results,” you petulantly huffed, not backing down from his intimidation. Imayoshi notes your cheeks reddening, and he figured it was either because of the close proximity between your faces or the fact you were frustrated… perhaps both. “And you’re the only one around here on campus who I could ask!”

“Really now,” he chimes, moving closer to whisper in your ear. “Are you sure?” With incoherent stammers, you backed away from him, slapping your hands against both of your ears to protect them.

“W-W-What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Looks like I won this one, (l/n)-san,” he purrs, relishing the fact that only he could render you this quiet. “Ho? What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

“I—Shut up!” you lamely shoot back. “You can just say no if you really don’t wanna do this—urgh, I’m leaving, I’m not gonna waste any more time—”

“How hurtful,” he dryly remarks, standing up straight again after leaning for a quite a while. “It’s almost as if you’re rejecting me~” He knew you would always take his bait and quip back (unlike Susa), regardless of whether or not you tell him that you weren’t going to engage further.

“As if,” you snorted, making another exaggerated eye roll. “You’re the last person who would ever be hurt from this.”

“Dear me!” he exclaims. “Have you ever considered that perhaps I don’t help out people for free? Did you think I would be a gracious, selfless person who would help you like a saint?”

“Okay, fine! Perhaps I didn’t think that far ahead, okay? You just were the first person that came to mind, and I thought asking you wouldn’t hurt.” His smirk widens almost maliciously at your words, lips already opening to deliver another irritating quip before you immediately spoke again to stop him. “Okay, Imayoshi, you little shit, just shut up—I don’t wanna hear anything from your mouth right now.”

“I don’t see any reason why I should listen to you at all,” he muses. “Why don’t you make me?” He has a shit-eating grin plastered across his face, eagerly eyeing your next move, and as he expected, you let out a frustrated noise that prompted passerby students to shoot pointed looks towards the both of you.

What he didn’t expect was for you to take a huge step towards him, unceremoniously pull him down to your level, and press a reverberating smack on his lips. His eyes are immediately blown wide open to look at your embarrassed, but determined face. His fingers unconsciously move to touch his warmed lips.

“... That was quite romantic, wasn’t it, (l/n)?” he dryly says, recovering almost immediately from the shock. All the other students fled from the blatantly bold scene to save face. Not that Imayoshi really cared.

“Okay, you know what? Bye, I’m not gonna play anymore mind games with you,” you grumble. “Essays and studying aren’t gonna be done by themselves—wah!”

Imayoshi gently tugs you back to reciprocate back a kiss, meticulously slipping his hands behind your head and on your waist to accommodate you. Your eyes are completely open from the shock that the Imayoshi Shoichi was actually kissing you. You don’t close your eyes from the sensation, completely entranced when you make eye contact with his half-lidded eyes watching your every reaction closely. The kiss ended all too soon, and Imayoshi separates himself from you, secretly admiring your dazed look.

“That was quite a strong reaction to just a simple kiss.”

“I—that was not just a ‘simple kiss!’”

“Now would you like to tell me the true reason why you approached me?”

“You’re… insinuating that you know something.”

“Well we wouldn’t know unless you come clean,” Imayoshi purrs. “I can sometimes be wrong too.”

“Ugh, what the hell—fine, I am quite enamored by you, and uh, I… find it infuriating to be with you, but it also gives me butterflies… so I thought I could be with you more… if I asked you—don’t get it twisted, though! I still need your help to study!...” He covers his mouth to suppress a laugh at your honesty.

“Was it really so hard to say that in the beginning, (l/n)-san?”

“Okay, that’s it! I’m really, really leaving! Fuck off, Imayoshi, I swear to—”

“Ho? Just a minute, darling~” he tuts, reaching to hold your hand. “Perhaps if you offer more kisses as an incentive, I’d be more inclined to offer my expertise.”

“How quaint,” you dryly reply. “It’s almost as if we’re in a relationship.”

Imayoshi can’t help but bark out a genuine laugh. You even managed to pick up some of his mannerisms so quickly.

“That’s an interesting proposal, (l/n),” he murmurs. “Should we try that?” You tut at him irritatedly as you tug your interlocked hands while speed-walking ahead.

“Hurry up, or I’ll consider breaking up with you right now.”

“Ah ha!~” he chuckles at your attitude. “How mean, (l/n)-san! Too bad that we both know that’s not going to happen anytime soon.”

[vegalocity]

So bc everyone's really enjoying that Protag Swap AU with Red Son I've been thinking about it myself quite a bit and so now here i am

Here's a scene from The Beach Car

--

The cat's pod was... minimally challenging to fix. no more complex than his Inferno truck. He knew there was a heavy enough chance that the cat was lying about having connections to the conductor, but if her only payment was fixing up her travel pod for her and a lightning protection charm, then it was worth taking the chance. (Though she had tried to have him sell OneOne to her, it seemed like legitimate magic was far more interesting for her. And it made sense to have a lightning charm, who knew when her pod would malfunction again and electrocute her)

“Tomcat, tell me something-” The cat poked her head into his line of sight and Red Son raised a brow.

“Don't call me that.”

“Why did your parents choose such a... literal... name for you?” The Cat continued as though he hadn't spoken. “out of all the names in the world, why did they look upon their child and say 'ah yes, 'Red Son' will be perfect for our red haired son? Why not something less descriptive? Isn't it also a naming custom to affiliate your child with what you hope of them? Though I admit I wouldn't know.” The cat primly began to groom herself. “Never had any kittens of my own.”

“None of your business.”

“Red Son!” OneOne chimed in rolling up to his work area “How tall are you?”

“172 centimeters, why-”

“What is your hair? Is it fire? Is it hair?” “Is it a reflection of your inner turmoil bubbling to the surface?”

He felt his hair spark to life at the surprisingly pointed commentary. “That's none of your-!”

“Why DID your parents name you after your hair color?” OneOne interrupted again.

“Ugh! Why does that matter?”

“The orb is rather talkative Tomcat, you sure you don't want me to take him off your hands for you?”

“OneOne isn't for sale fleabag.” The cat gasped in mock affront.

“how rude! I was only trying to take such an irritating thing off your hands!” She was enjoying this. He could see the amused glint in her eye as her tail swished back and forth.

A wire darted across his hand and with a prick of pain he was now bleeding. Red Son let out a shout of frustration and rolled out from beneath the pod. He had some small bandages he could use to patch up his hand but he was flustered and it was making his hands shake.

“Fine. You both want a story so bad?”

“Frankly I could care less, Tomcat.”

“Story!” OneOne scurried up and made themself at home in Red Son's lap.

“Well it's not much of one-...” then again father did love to tell it when he was young, every year on his birthday, the exact time right down to the minute. And whenever allies would come over and make some idle comment about his strength, his father would launch into the story with the premise of 'My son has been a fighter from the moment he was born'

He wondered if father would tell it any differently now that Red Son was a disappointment.

“Technically they named me Red Boy, I changed it to Red Son myself when I became of age and thus was no longer a boy. But as my father tells the story, I came out... Early. Very early.”

His hands had stopped shaking, so he began to apply the bandages to the sluggishly bleeding wound. “Back then a premature birth was gravely dangerous for mother, but a death sentence for me. Healers had long since known there was no point in working in favor of the child if it wouldn't last a week let alone the customary month, So they prioritized mother's life instead. Which s it turned out, didn't matter because I was born anyway. And I didn't die. When I'd first come out my hair was black like mothers, though I didn't have much of it. I was alive, but I wouldn't stir. I wouldn't open my eyes or cry or een give the smallest twitch on my own. The healers informed my parents I wouldn't live to see the sun rise.

“Father couldn't stand the idea of any offspring of his perishing without a fight, so he ordered the servants to make the fire in the room burn as hot as they could possibly get it, as he thought I would fight harder if my surroundings better resembled the womb I left too soon. But I don't think he truly believed I would survive, he just wanted me to last longer than the healers predicted. It was a somber affair, So I've been told, the two of them waiting for the end. Mother recovering from her injuries in a sweltering room and my life slowly fading, father the only one in the room whole and hale enough to be acutely aware of the fact that one or both of us would perish."

“Oh my!” “Did you die?”

“No OneOne, I didn't die.”

“Sure enough the sun rose, and I was still breathing. Mother was resting still, and Father was feeling restless. He felt as though he had to stay awake to ensure that should I slip away I would do so with one or both of them there to send me off. And in a state of restlessness took to tending the fire himself.

“At the time even when he was shrunk to the smallest size he was comfortable with I was still small enough to fit in a single hand. Or so he told me.

“So he had me in one hand and tended to the fire with the other. Then the wood gave an unexpected crack, loud as a catapult he told me; cinders and embers went everywhere, and a few landed on me. But when father went to check me for wounds, he saw me do something I had lacked the strength for previously. I stirred. And for just a moment, I'd opened my eyes. “Immediately he shouted for mother to awaken and barked orders to the servants to throw the bassinet into the hearth, Mother thought he'd been thrown into a fit of rage and wanted all of the things they'd set up for me to be destroyed and began to insist that such an action was a waste of furniture, but the bassinet was already burning by the time she did so, and father placed me inside.

“The fire was all around me, and so the story goes, I stirred in the heat, opened my eyes to the warm glow, I breathed in the smoke-” he lit his fist aflame, careful to keep it far enough from OneOne that he wouldn't damage the little guy. “And I screamed. Father considers that the moment I truly was born.” He remembers waking before the sun in his childhood eager to begin his days, and just as the sun began to raise over the horizon on a certain day his father would pull him aside and begin on the story. “They uh- they left me in there chucking more and more bassinets into the fire until they were sure I'd grown strong enough to survive without it. And by the time that had happened a few months later, my hair had turned red like black coal turning to red embers. So they called me Red Boy.”

“That's a mighty ability tomcat.” The cat chimed in, striding forward and leaning as close to the flame as she was willing to risk. “You say your father realized that ability was yours simply on the fact that you weren't burned by the fire?”

“You were a very brave baby. You already knew what you needed to live but since you were a baby nobody listened to you” OneOne chimed, their cheerful voice surprisngly somber, before the dour voice came in “I can relate, Nobody listens to me either.”

“I didn't know what I needed OneOne, I was a baby. I didn't know anything.”

“I bet you were cuuuutteeee” OneOne chimed again, far closer to their normal tone. Red Son felt his hair spark to life again, his face burning in turn. The cat chuckled.

“Settle down Tomcat, don't want you burning my pod up much like your numerous bassinets before you can fix it.”