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firstknightss · 3 years

Text

GWAINCELOT ESSAY THREE???

[commentary voice] ah yes and this gwaincelot essay.... which turned into a fic was inspired by @nextstopparis and @little-ligi

GWAINE TEACHING LANCELOT HOW TO READ. and thats how they actually CONFESS.

imagine gwaine seeing lancelot trip up reading leon’s plan for the day, seeing him trying to understand it. and gwaines, hes a little in love. Hes. Hes a little hit with feelings for this Noble (tm) knight. So OF COURSE he CANT EMOTION and he tries to show his affection for lancelot without yknow being in ‘loVE’

he comes over with his swishy hair and bantery tone like “oooOhHh LANCELOT! Lancey! Hey! Hello! Can’t read leon’s goddamn awful handwriting huh?”

And Lancelots embarrassed and flushes red and gwaine thinks hes Fucked Up (and he really doesn’t want to fuck this up, this is the first time he’s actually felt emotions this deep for someone) and tries to fix it panickedly, like the Anxiety Clown He Is.

He keeps on saying sorry and apologising, and Lancelot, the EVER CALM KNIGHT GUY, goes “it’s fine, it’s okay. It’s nothing to do with you...” and then he hesitates. He HESITATES. “....it’s just that...” and then he BITES HIS LIP and gwaine thinks he might just faint there and then, “...i cant read.”

and now it hits him, gwaine, gwaine, who thought literacy was something trash and something he didn’t really need, realises how important it is. and so, yknow because hes kind of wrapped in those Emotions (tm), he pulls lancelot’s sleeve after practice, when they’re alone in the changing room. (and if lancelot wasn’t so tired and miserable, he would have easily seen gwaine BLUSH)

And he, shyly asks if lancelot wouldnt mind being tutored by him.

Now Lancelot is OVERJOYED, and he’s borderline CRYING because lancelot, poor old village boy lancelot who’d been kicked out of the knights of camelot, and had to become a MERCENARY and fight for masters who didn’t care for him, has NEVER HAD someone literally CARE about him so much. (Apart from Merlin. He loves merlin <3)

so now imagine lancelot waking up an hour early the next morning, and showing up into gwaine’s room. He knows gwaine literally doesnt sleep with a lock, so he just barges in, and starts shaking gwaine.

Now GWAINE sleeps like a Log (had so much shit going on irl, time to sleep it away) and when he opens his bleary eyes, seeing lancelot in one of his stupid v neck shirts over him, hes like “....h...helo??”

and lancelot’s all like. “We- werent YOU gonna give me reading lessons.” And gwaine nods, yawning (and in that moment lancelot thinks gwaine looks unimaginably cute, so cute that he wants to literally ruffle gwaine’s hair and run his hands through how silky and brown it is.)

THEN gwaine pulls on the dont care-ish mask, and makes his arms into a pillow under his head, as he leans against the wall behind his bed, in some kind of somewhat???flirty??? manner??? [i dont...i dont know what hes trying to do. On the other hand! Not does Lancelot :) ]

Lancelot, does not realise this is gwaine’s poor attempt at flirting - since he’s seen gwaine ACTUALLY flirting and this is like. Nothing. And its also poorly executed. Which is NOTHING like gwaine.

So he pulls gwaine’s arm, and half hauls him out of bed.

As gwaine’s head crashes into lancelot’s stomach, he can smell lancelot’s clothes. They smell of flowers, and cotton and everything so natural and gwaine, who literally smells of wine, and wood and Tavern. (And aftershave, or the 500AD equivalent)

[see here, see im trying to bring themes of dionysis okay. OkayyyyyyyyY. yours truly likes looking at greek mythology. And both these two complete dionysis]

Gwaine, in his sleepy stupor, nestles his head on Lancelot’s hip, who gives a sigh and stands there. One hand clutching gwaine’s, leaving the other free.....

....to rake through his soft, flowy brown hair. And twirl his fingers through its waves, and Gwaine cuddles in further.

And since Lancelot left the door open, Leon (the other bitch who wakes up at 4am to do idk nothing) sees them two...like that, illuminated by the SUNLIGHT behind them, and smiles a little.

And then he trips over the stairs, the moment is lost.

Gwaine and Lancelot pull away at the same time, and gwaine’s face turns back to “ha ha im a Jerk (tm)” and if he wasnt too busy trying to hide how flustered he was, he’d see Lancelot looking at him the way he used to look at GWEN.

They both blink and look at each other, understandingly, neither of them to speak of this again.

And then Gwaine drags himself out of bed, and Lancelot raises his eyebrows as he watches him (totally not checking him out) haul out a book from his cupboard.

Gwaine’s too sleepy for this, he keeps yawning and rubbing his eyes (looking like a cat, Lancelot notes) and Lancelot takes a deep breath, his eyes understanding.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“Lancelot, I love..” he bites his tongue, cursing his half asleep mind “..doing this, and love hanging out with you...I just cant stay up this early.”

Reading lessons, from now on, are at 1:30am-whenever Gwaine and Lancelot stop rambling about Odysseus and Circe and Telemachus

[i dont know any other ancient books apart from like. Ancient greek/Roman ones. So i guess. Its not historically accurate,,,,BUUIT this is a fanfic for a pair who had like no scenes together SO i think i can take some ✨creative liberties✨]

Lancelot has heard of the journey of Aneas from travelling bards, singing songs in his native old english. Gwaine’s eyes are quick at latin, and he learnt the flaws of Romulus and Remus in his pure latin. Gwaine’s a good teacher, and lancelot is a quick study, and it’s not long before they’re arguing over which Goddess caused the most harm in the Illiad.

Gwaine’s never met someone who he could reveal that he loved reading to, he loved doing.

Lancelot’s never met someone who he could tell he couldn’t read, and ask if they could teach him, love learning.

They make it work.

The other knights notice, of course they notice. Percival notices how Lancelot stumbles into the Gwaine’s room at night, bright eyed. Elyan notices Lancelot and Gwaine’s voices from Gwaine’s room opposite him; sometimes slow, Gwaine speaking slowly and Lancelot following; sometimes heated and passionate.

(They’re arguing. They’re arguing about how to pronounce Minerva)

Merlin finds the two, in the early hours of the morning - when the birds are figuring what song they sing today - on Gwaine’s bed.

Gwaine leaned against the bedframe, his trousered legs splayed over the sheets. Loosely braided, long brown hair fell over his closed eyelids, his mouth in a small smile.

And Merlin follows his arm draped over Lancelot, snuggled beside him, his head on his broad shoulder, every breath of wind pushing against curly black hair, making it almost /bounce/. His eyes are covered by the other man’s hair, and he looks...content. More content than Merlin has ever seen him.

He slips out as quietly as he came in, and smirks, hes gotta tell arthur they finally got their shit together oh GOD

Its no surprise to anyone but them, when Arthur pulls Lancelot out of training, and into his chambers.

“I’m glad you’ve found someone Lancelot.” He starts, his face geniune, his voice giving away hints of relief. (He thought he was never going to see his knight smile again after all the ordeals that had happened to him)

“Oh...” Lancelot’s heart sinks, “...how did you find out, Sire?”

Arthur blinks, taking in the change of mood in Lancelot, maybe it wasn’t anything important, maybe they were trying to keep it casual, hell they didnt want the king knowing.

“I- uh, I just noticed...” Goddamnit Merlin, and Goddamn his need to tell him everything he saw. (Merlin had advised him not to do this, as they sat on his bed after a long night. This was really his fault.)

Lancelot pales, and he places his hands down on the table beside him, palms slapping stone as he did so.

“Well, I guess I should tell you the whole truth then,” his voice is quiet, and Arthur steps closer, “Sire I am not of Noble birth, and was born in a village - as you know.”

Arthur nods, his arms crossed, but his Kingly Bravado fell away at the sight of his knight, and one of his closest friends, being this vulnerable.

“Yes I know, but what does this ha-“

“And we children in the village we-“ he falters, “-we were never taught to read.”

“Yes, no I understand, I-“ he pauses, Lancelot’s words hitting him a bit too late, this was about literacy?

This, this whole conversation was about literacy?

Not being gay?

Merlin was going to have a field day

“Sire?”

“I understand Lancelot, and is this why you feel a little out of place with the other knights?” He carries it on, with a smile, he has a few questions to ask merlin.

“Yes, and that’s why I asked Gwaine to tutor me from time to time, although, the sessions carry through late into the night, which may have been affecting my performance at practice. I’ll have you know that this is a temporary th-“

“It’s fine Lancelot,” Arthur places a hand on his shoulder, “You are still exceptional at practice,”

“Thank you Sire,” Lancelot twinkles.

✨

“Theyre, theyre not together?” Merlin cant stop laughing, tears streaming down his face, “theyre not TOGETHER?? oh my God arthur what did you DO”

They sit together on Arthur’s bed, drinking wine from stemless cups together, with Arthur recounting the events of the day; red faced.

“I mean, it was your idea Merlin.”

“I just saw them, and I assumed...I didnt...I didnt think youd ASK them.”

“What do you think I’d do then?? Let them be on their merry way.”

“Yes!”

✨

“Do you like me?” Gwaine asks, unexpectedly, one night, the moon vibrant against the loud sea.

“You’re...tolerable...” Lancelot says, a smile tugging at his lips, as the silver moonlight falls against his hair, a halo around him.

✨

The knights give them the look every morning, as the two of them stumbled out of the same room, more frequently than ever.

Sometimes Lancelot would throw on Gwaine’s shirt, when he’d crumpled his own beyond repair. Sometimes Gwaine would put some of Lancelot’s hair oil on, when his hair was frizzy.

They gave each other knowing looks when Gwaine and Lancelot started whispering and giggling like a bunch of schoolgirls.

✨

And then Stupid gwaine had to go get fucking stabbed, and their delicate dance was like trying to waltz through a minefield.

Lancelot clutches onto Gwaine’s arm as Merlin feels his forehead with shaking hands.

“He’s burning up.”

“Infection...?” Lancelot sounds broken, and nods, fumbling with his pack to find some bandages.

It was just a simple quest; a save the day, get the girl, do various harmless shenanigans type of quest.

He’d half expected Gwaine to get the girl, and he cant help but give out a half choked laugh. Gwaine had no idea what hit him when she turned out to be the evil one all along.

He tries to forget that Gwaine showed no interest in her, he tries to forget that Gwaine’s been less frequent at the Tavern, he tries to forget that he hasn’t seen Gwaine with anyone since months now.

Gwaine, his beautiful Gwaine was lying on his lap, hot red blood rushing from his side, staining his polished chainmail with dark, sticky blood.

He’s been out for nearly an hour now, and Lancelot remembers carrying him, through the entire forest, forgetting his sword and his helmet and just grabbing Gwaine and getting the shit out of there.

Gwaine’s lack of self preservation was really rubbing off on Lancelot nowadays.

Merlin watches as Lancelot holds back tears, his own eyes stinging. Gwaine can’t die like this, he can’t die like this....

“hælan beorn adl”

Merlin’s eyes flashed gold, and Lancelot could feel warmth coming back into the fingers he was grabbing.

He was coming back.

And then the weight of everything hits him.

He was in Fucking Love.

✨

“Hey.” Gwaine’s voice is rough from disuse, but Lancelot nearly sobs when he hears the voice.

“Don’t fucking do that to me again, amor meus.” He puts his head down on Gwaine’s chest; finding the hammering of his heart calming.

He shimmies onto Merlin’s bed, which Gwaine had been lying in for the past few days.

“Did you mean, ami meus?” Gwaine sounds tired, too tired to be awake.

“Huh? Did i say something else?” Lancelot decides to play dumb, a sparkle in his eyes,

“I thought I heard amor meus,” Gwaine pushes his nose into Lancelot’s hair, taking in the wonderful smell of coconut.

“Well then, at least your hearing’s okay, amor meus.”

Gwaine gulped, and was sure Lancelot could hear his loud swallow.

“Lancelot, I hope this isnt a big joke with me teachin you latin and all,” Gwaine’s voice is a little wobbly from the slee deprivation and the magic and the pain numbers, “because I’ll have you know that I really love you, and I cant go on like this any longer,”

“Its okay Gwaine, I learnt latin from the man I love, of course it’s not a joke.”

“The man you love? Who’s tha-“

Realisation hits him like a brick.

Oh.

“Me?” His voice cracks, and Lancelot looks up, a smirk on his face.

“Of course dumbass.”

“Like I’m meant to know that,” Gwaine tries to keep his dont care-ish aura, but they both know he’s too exhausted to keep that up.

“mmm?”

Gwaine kisses him on the nose, and he wraps himself around him.

And thats how Merlin finds them later that day, eyes blinking as he stood there.

✨

“I’m glad you’ve found someone, Lancelot.” Arthur coughs.

“Is that what that whole talk was about???”

“Answer the question.” His words sound harsh, but he’s barely hiding a smile.

“I’m glad too, I’m Glad I found Gwaine too.” Lancelot blushes, turning to gwaine.

“Why are you asking anyway, Princess?”

“Oh just, making sure this time.”

#shit this turned into a fic #im sorry #uhh #gwainecelot #gwaine #lancelot #gwaine x Lancelot #gwaine/lancelot #i should post this onto ao3 #but like. fix it up first #fun times #first tumblr fic yall #im growing!!!#IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE AN ESSAY WHAT IS THIS #gwaincelot #im SO sorry

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

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98. I’ve been hired to kill you, but you don’t seem that concerned???

Super/vigilante/mercenary au? I feel like it would be really cool if one of them has known the other’s secret identity for a while but doesn’t have anything against them. The two have also been becoming /close/ friends with mutual pining, so the hit is actually just a good excuse to reveal their identity before asking them out. Indruck, nsfw, please!

Here you go! I tried to work in as much of this as I could

Content warning for mentions of guns and mentions of death

It’s a dark and stormy night, because of course it fucking is.

Indrid steers the borrowed car down the street, rain hammering the car while his heart tries chiseling it’s way from his chest. He doesn’t want to be here, circling the block like a shark on a reef, the light from the top floor, left corner of the apartment building telling him there’s no pretending his prey isn’t home. He doesn’t want to think about the instructions he burned, the lethal object hidden in his clothes.

He doesn’t want to kill Duck Newton.

“Excuse me, but I have a rather odd question; which of these trails is the least traveled?”

The ranger looks up from the map between them, grin friendly and a little lopsided, “Lookin to do some birdwatchin or somethin?”

“I like to draw but I, ah, I also get easily overwhelmed by crowds.”

“Try this one” The man circles a trailhead, “not super popular this time of year. Watch out for mud.”

“I shall, thank you.”

He didn’t.

Which is why he’s back in the visitor center, trying to get enough of the mud off so that driving home isn’t miserable. Worse, the ranger from earlier walks in, takes one look at him, and snickers.

“I tried! Truly, I was careful, but there was this-”

“Patch of stones in the trail?”

“...Yes. How did you know?”

“Fell flat on my ass two days ago thanks to them. Wait here a sec.” The door swings shut, then opens again while Indrid is rinsing mud from his glasses. The ranger holds out a packet of body wipes, “this’ll get the worst of it.”

“Thank you ranger...Newton.”

That same smile, reaching a pair of mismatched eyes, “Just call me Duck. It’s a nickname.”

Indrid parks in a spot far from any streetlights or cameras, pulls the hood of his sweatshirt over his head and starts towards the apartment complex.

“These are fascinating.” Indrid peers over the edge of the dock at the early blooming bulbs.

“Glad you like ‘em, thought they might be alley after you showed me those drawings of the marsh.”

He imagines Duck seeing the flowers on his rounds and thinking not of the seasons, the weather, the way their petals look near the water, but of him. It’s the sweetest thought anyone’s ever spared for him.

The lobby door opens easily, courtesy of the copy of the keycard left in his mailbox. He knows he should take the stairs; fewer people use them.

He calls the elevator.

“Duck? The sign on the door is, that’s just temporary right?”

“Nope.” Duck sets his hat on the counter, runs a hand right through the grey streak in his hair, “they’re closin the whole park until further notice, which is probably gonna be never. Laid all of us off.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“S’okay.”

Even Indrid could tell it wasn’t. That from their occasional conversations, Duck’s work was akin to his heart, kept life flowing through him on even the roughest days. The assignment had told him not to worry, that he was almost doing his target a favor, ending a life he wanted over anyway.

Indrid knocks on the door, tossing his options about in his mind as slow footsteps approach. He could do what he was sent here for. Or he could offer Duck Newton something to brighten his days.

The door opens, Duck standing there in boxers, a plain white t-shirt, and a confused expression.

“Indrid? Jesus, come in, you're fuckin soaked. This is some storm.”

“At least it will help with the drought.” Indrid closes the door, slips off his shoes, lets Duck take his sweatshirt to hang near the heater, angling his body so he won’t see or feel the handgun tucked in his waistband.

“Yeah. Assumin it don’t just mudslide all the hills that lost their cover durin fire season.” Duck sighs, plops down on the couch, “sorry, ain’t exactly in a chipper mood.”

“That’s sort of why I came to see you. I, ah, I wanted to see how you were getting on after the park closing.”

Duck gestures to the messy apartment, then at himself.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Not unless you got enough money to reopen the park indefinitely.”

He chuckles, “I wish I did.” He picks up a small, wooden ship, “goodness, did you make this?”

“Yep. Know it’s an old man hobby but, uh, I dunno. I just like makin stuff. Putting things into the world, even if it’s just a model ship on the shelf or a mint plant on the windowsill.” His smile is tired, but there’s a determination to it that makes up Indrid’s mind for him. He’s about to make his offer when Duck adds, “mind grabbin me some water since you’re closer to the kitchen? Cups are in the middle cabinet.”

“Of course.” Indrid crosses into the small kitchen, mind wandering to what their first date will entail as he sets his hands on two glasses.

The cold metal at the base of his neck hurtles him back to earth.

“Someone set you up, slim.”

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

Duck’s hand goes instantly to Indrid’s gun, pulling it free and tossing it away before roughly patting him up and down. The barrel on his skin never wavers.

“Duck, please, I, I can explain.”

“No need to. Thought you seemed familiar, went diggin and found out who you work for. Bet you thought I hadn’t seen your nine mil, but I ain’t lived this long by bein careless.”

“I don’t understand. The file they gave me didn’t say anything about this.”

A bitter chuckle, “Wasn’t always a ranger, slim. The fact they didn’t tell you that makes me think they’re hopin I off you, not the other way around.”

“But, but I didn’t do anything.” The crack in his voice is why he was never cut out for this, he told them that, over and over again.

“And you ain’t gonna.”

“Duck please I, I wasn’t going to do what they told me.”

“If your bosses are who I think, then helpin me would be a goddamn death wish on your part.”

“It would have been worth it. One date with you would have been worth whatever they did to me if they caught me after I ran.”

“That’s mighty funny” the barrel disappears, and the ghost of a kiss takes it’s place, “I was busy weighing whether askin you out was worth the risk of gettin shot.”

Duck sets the Glock on the counter as Indrid slumps against it, turning to find the ranger watching him carefully.

“What do we do now?” He sort of wants him to kiss him, sort of wants to storm out and find whoever thought he could be gotten rid of so easily.

“I say we-” Duck freezes as three, sharp knocks come from the door. He crouches to the floor, Indrid following him. The ranger grabs Indrid’s gun from the floor, whispers, “stay put, follow my lead.” Then he calls, “who is it?”

“I have a package for you to sign for, Mr. Newton.”

“Be right there. Actually” he lowers his voice slightly, “uh, Indrid, you’re right by the door, could you-”

The shot breaks the wood right where Indrid’s head would be. Duck fires two shots, both of them sighing when there’s a tell-tale thump of body meeting carpet.

“Glad yours had the silencer. Buys us some time, but someone is bound to come outta their apartment eventually and find the fucker.”

“Our hitmen also have to report completion within a certain time frame or back-up is sent. And no, I can’t do it for him, it has to be voice contact.” Indrid stands, calmer than a moment ago; this part he knows.

“Good to know. In that case, slim,” he raises an eyebrow, “think it’s time you and I take a vacation.”

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

“You really got no clue what they’re after you for?” Duck winds them along highway 50 as the sun peers anxiously over the horizon.

“None.” Indrid fishes out the roll of mini doughnuts he bought near Donner Lake, the first place Duck had deemed safe to stop since they left the coast. They’re in his car, Indrid knowing full well the one he borrowed has a tracking device installed, “I’m mostly a numbers man; they give me scenarios and I give them likely outcomes. I, ah, I also helped with clean up, but I suspect they did that when they were annoyed I’d given them what they thought was an inaccurate prediction. I don’t like the aftermath of disasters, even if they’re small. And I was never, ever assigned a hit until last night” He worries a hangnail, “I thought they were satisfied with my work. Even if they weren’t, they could easily do away with me. There was no point in sending me on a fake mission and hoping you’d kill me instead.”

“Unless they got something against me too, which they could.” Duck drums on the wheel, “I, uh, I joined a, uh, guess you’d call ‘em a vigilante group when I was younger. I was eighteen and they recruited me, sayin how there were certain folks who were chosen to protect the world from evil. I avoided it for a few years, but they were persistent, and honestly I thought I could make a difference. That we were just protectin folks who the system didn’t. And we did. Kinda.”

Indrid offers him a doughnut, which he takes and chews before continuing

“Trouble was, not everyone agreed on who needed protectin. It got so convoluted and so goddamn dangerous that I decided I wanted out. Wanted to spend the rest of my life makin things grow, lookin out for the woods, that kinda thing. It almost worked. But if I could go back in time to talk to that kid, I’d tell ‘im there are enemies you can’t unmake, things you can’t undo.”

“Very true.” Indrid murmurs, “I suppose I’d tell myself I did not blame him for throwing in with who he had to in order to survive.”

“Pretty sure that’s what you’re doin’ now, too.”

“No.” Indrid shakes his head, “right now I am on the run with someone I like a great deal.”

Duck flashes him a smile, flips the blinker to turn them into the only sign of civilization for miles; a cluster of buildings calling itself Cold Springs Station. The groggy teen at the counter gives them the key to a cramped cabin.

Indrid tosses his bag--the one he hid in the trunk of the borrowed car, knowing the likely outcome of his visit would involve flight of some kind--down on the right side of the bed, Duck doing the same on the left. It’s only when they’re under the covers, both half-asleep, that he notices he forgot something.

“Drat. I meant to stick something plush in my bag. I, ah” he blushes, “I sleep much better with something to cuddle.”

A strong arm drapes over his waist while Duck tucks his head under Indrid’s head, “how’s that?”

Indrid winds his limbs around him, feeling like a little kid who’s just had his favorite teddy bear returned to him after hours of tearful searching, “perfect.”

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

The plan is to weave through the Southwest like a drunk bee before turning North; they need to put off visiting any places with friends or family for as long as they can. They spent a morning on the floor of a run down motel with a map and some pens, marking off the safest routes and places they’d like to visit. Duck picks state parks, Indrid any place likely to have lots of sweet food.

Whenever they stop for the night, they never bother asking for two beds. While they’ve yet to go further, Indrid delights in waking Duck with a kiss on the cheek each morning.

On the Nevada border Indrid spends two hours playing Blackjack, counting cards enough to win several thousand dollars but not enough to get caught. In a pizza place outside of Salt Lake, Duck wins Indrid a stuffed mothman from a claw machine (“just in case you gotta sleep alone some time”).

And fifty miles from Alamogordo, they get into trouble.

Indrid carries his weapon near constantly, but he really didn’t think he needed it at the Motel 6 Breakfast Buffet. When the man waiting for the waffle maker next to him says “outside, Cold, let’s get this over with” he goes still, wishing they’d at least given him time to eat.

Then he hurls his scalding mocha into the man’s face, striking him in the ribs and breaking his nose before he even hits the floor. Orange and red liquid splashes his face, two shots hitting the juice dispenser behind him. The other two assassins don’t get a second chance to fire; Duck takes out one with a chair, jabs the other with the splintered leg, and gathers both their guns with an ease that Indrid admires.

As they’re sprinting for the parking lot, Indrid slapping an extra two hundred dollars on the lobby desk in apology, he realizes admiration doesn’t quite capture his feelings. Duck is so calm in the face of danger, so commanding, and so very, very...hot.

The moment he allows himself that thought is the moment he dooms his focus for the remainder of the day. He contributes to the planning of their next stop, to driving and watching the mirror for cars that follow for too long, but his mind is back in the dining room, hoping Duck will turn the fire in his eyes onto Indrid, bend him over the beige table and take him while the people who tried to hurt them whimper and bleed on the floor.

“‘Drid? I’m gonna go shower, didn’t get a chance this mornin. You wanna scope out dinner?”

“Of course, but I fear it might be the vending machine special again.”

“Eh, I can live with that, especially if they got those Oreo packets.” Duck blows him a kiss and shuts the bathroom door.

Duck’s showers are between five and six minutes in length; Indrid’s certain he can get himself off in that time. He slips his pajama pants down, spits in his hand, and pretends the fingers pressing on his neck are not his own. That Duck’s voice is in his ear the same way it was that first night, low and so firm Indrid has no choice but to bend.

“You droppin hints, slim?” Duck leans in the bathroom doorway, towel around his waist.

He bolts upright, pants tangled around his knees, “Nono, I’m, I’m so sorry, I thought you were going to be a few minutes more.”

“Wanted to shave and forgot my dop kit. Now I’m kinda disappointed that I was gonna miss the show.”

“I, ah, I, it doesn’t bother you?”

“Thought we established we were into each other.” Duck’s smile falters, “wait, fuck, if you decided you ain’t I’ll back the fuck off.”

“No!” Indrid crawls to the edge of the bed nearest Duck, not caring how silly he must look, “it’s the opposite, I want you even more now than I did when we started this trip. After this morning I--ah, never mind. The point is, I would very much like to get you into bed sooner rather than later.”

“How about now?”

“Only if you…” Indrid’s brain screeches to a stop as Duck drops his towel. Now he understands where the urge to create phallic sculptures comes from; he wants to preserve this sight for all time.

“Glad you approve.” Duck chuckles, joins him on the bed, “gotta say the, uh, feelin’s mutual.” He slides a hand along Indrid’s dick, gone soft from his alarm, and lets out an approving groan as it hardens against his palm, “that’s it, sugar, get excited for me.”

“If I get any more excited I will explode.”

“Can’t have that, it’s a pain to clean blood off of walls by yourself” a kiss finds his cheek, “you got a preference for how we do this?”

“I, I’d like to, ah, receive. At least for tonight. Is that alright?”

“Hell yeah.” Duck growls, abandoning him on the bed and laughing when he whines, “gimme two seconds, slim, then I’ll take care of you.” Two condoms and a small bottle of lube bonk into Indrid’s foot, “packed those just in case. You’re gonna get one of ‘em out and open yourself up for me while tellin me just what got you so riled up. Shirt off, c’mon, get to it.”

The gruff tone means Indrid is blushing on every inch of skin by the time he’s fully naked. As Duck’s gaze moves over him, all traces of dominance wash away, leaving expression tender when their eyes finally meet.

“Christ, ‘Drid, you look better than ever coulda pictured. Shoulda been bookin more places with pools just to get you shirtless.”

“It’s January, dear.”

“Hot tubs, then.” Duck nudges him onto his back by kissing his shoulder, and the sight of the ranger above him reminds Indrid’s fingers what they should be doing. He fumbles the condom open, gasps when one digit feels like a massive intrusion.

“Easy slim, easy, you’re probably still tense from this mornin.”

“I thought that much was obvious.” Indrid grins as Duck bends to kiss his collarbone.

“It is, so start tellin me what got you so horny you jerked off the first free second you had.”

“It’s a, a bit embarrassing OH, ohthat'snice” he sighs as Duck kisses a slow trail towards his hips, “but I find the moments when you demonstrate a certain...ruthlessness in-incredibly arousing.” He wiggles his hips happily as Duck drags his lips across his belly.

“Keep goin.”

“You’re brave, and calm even when things are awful, and that makes me feel so very safe with you. But then there are those times when I remember how dangerous you could be, AHnnn” the second finger goes in easier than the first, “that when it, it comes down to it you are more seasoned in lethal matters than I am and I, you could render me utterly helpless, have me, use me, hurt me, but instead you offer me more tenderness than I deserve.” He glances down to where Duck’s chin rests on his chest, the ranger’s eyes overflowing with affection.

“You want the gentle me or the rough one tonight?” Duck tucks a strand of Indrid’s silver hair behind his ear.

“Rough.” It’s so quiet he’s amazed Duck hears it.

“Okay. In that case-”

“AHgod!” Indrid’s hand is pulled free as Duck first flips him over and then hauls him onto his knees.

“Hands on the wall. Now.”

Indrid sets his palms on peeling grey paint as foil crinkles behind him. When the head of Duck’s cock rubs his entrance he whimpers, hoping the prep was enough.

“Here’s how this is gonna go; I’m gonna use this cute little ass however long and however hard I want, and you;re gonna keep your hands there the whole fuckin time. You move, or you mouth off, and I shove some fingers in along with my dick just to remind you who’s boss.”

“Ohhhhhyes” Indrid rests his forehead on the wall.

“It gets to be too much, say stop.” A kiss to his neck, “much as I wanna ruin you, wanna be good to you even more.”

“Understood. Now please, please fuck meEEEh, ohgoodnessAH, ahhhgod.” He scratches the wall as Duck stretches him open, the prep proving enough but only just and tears pricking his eyes by the time Duck bottoms out.

One hand stays on his hip while Duck’s right arm wraps around his chest, keeping them close, “Fuuuck, now I see what your job was; ass this nice, you were the fuckin cocksleeve for the entire Organization, weren’t you?”

“Not at all” Indrid rolls his hips at the taunt in Duck’s voice, “I was a very valuable asset.”

“Yeah, I’ll say you’re an asset.” A sharp thrust, the menace of which is broken by Duck giggling at his own joke, Indrid hiding his face in his arm to do the same.

“I say in, ahgod, an office all day, no one saw me, I was not h-hired for my looks, I promise you.”

“If you say so. I say it’s their. Fuckin. Loss.” Three thrusts and Indrid’s cock is dripping onto the pillows, and he moans as Duck settles into a demanding rhythm.

“Got another theory for you, slim.”

“D-do tell.” Whether the stammering is from his teeth clacking together or his thoughts being bounced around his brain from the force of Duck pounding into him, he can’t say.

“I think you stuck around as long as you did because you get off on it danger.”

Indrid sucks in a breath, whimpers, “No. I, I was there because I was apprenticed out and, as you knowOH it’s, it’s hard to leave such places.”

Fingers on his throat, pressing but not squeezing, “Liar. Bet you got off at least once a day, let everyone from the hired hits to higher ups cum in you as long as they made you think they could off someone. Oh fuck, heh, you like that?” Duck smirks as Indrid tries to fuck himself in time with the pumps of his hips.

“Yes, goodness, I’d never want it, only want you, but, but the idea is divine.”

“Too bad, because now you’re all mine and anyone who tries to take you is gonna be in for a world of hurt.”

His climax curls in his stomach, begging him to touch himself and free it, but he’s determined to be good.

“Duck, please let me cum, please, it’s so good but I can’t-”

“I’ll help you out sugar, don’t worry. But you gotta do one thing first.” Duck nips his ear, “say you’re my personal toy from now on. C’mon” the fingers on his throat tighten, “say i-”

“I’m yours, I’m your toy, only you can have me, you can do whatever you wish to me and I’ll take it with a smile, anything, sweetheart, please, pleasepleasepleaseAHhhhn.” His cum splatters on the wall, Duck’s hand leaving his dick the instant it does to dig his fingers into both hips and fuck up into him with ecstatic groans.

“That’s it sugar, take it, be good for me and lemme fuck you until you can’t move, ohfuck, fuck, ‘Drid, yes, fuckyes.” He holds him tight as he cums, breath warm against his back. Then he’s pulling out and slumping forward as Indrid falls back into his arms.

“Ooops” he snickers, spotting the cum, “still easier to clean than blood.”

“Indeed.” Indrid bites his lip, “I, that was wonderful but there’s one thing more I would like. Will you kiss me.” He looks over his shoulder to say it. Duck cups his face, turns it so he can bring their lips together. It’s far slower and twice as tender as anything else they’ve done together.

“Can’t believe I forgot to do that until now. Gonna kiss you silly.” Duck kisses him again as Indrid turns in his lap. When he pulls back, his face is serious, “Y’know, it’s easy to be brave and calm when I’m doin’ it for you. You make me feel like I can face any goddamn thing, long as it’s for your sake. That make sense?”

Indrid studies his face in the half-shaded light from the bedside lamp, sees the curves and colors, sees the man he was willing to run away for.

“Yes, sweetheart, it does.”

#indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #meet ugly #hitman au #I guess?#assassin au

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angrylizardjacket · 3 years

Text

dirtbags // 1: Charlotte

Summary: Motley Crue High School AU with The Pack (Lola, Charlotte, Peach, & Eileen); Winter, 1984. Charlotte’s halfway through her Junior year of High School when Lola arrives in town, and becomes a part of Charlotte’s life almost by accident.

Tommy seems to fall for any girl he hasn’t grown up with, Nikki and Charlotte are in agreement that their friendship becoming public knowledge would be social suicide for them both, Vince is a tool, and Eileen is still mad at him for what happened over Summer.

A/N: 8829 words. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO @misscharlottelee this has literally been in the works for what’s felt like a year, but i decided that i can’t keep putting it off forever, so here. part 1. i think im going to try and put these out weekly?? maybe sooner?? but i adore you and i of course absolutely adore @josaphinebaker so i’m glad to finally let you all enjoy the long-awaited, multi-part HS AU (me, not posting writing for months: AND WHAT’S THIS? THE HS AU WITH A STEEL CHAIR --) ft. a softer world quotes

who said life can’t be an adventure? because whoever said that is probably the villain.

There’s a place for everything, and everything has it’s place. That’s they way the world works, at least, that’s the motto the rest of the cheerleading team seems to adhere to almost religiously. Charlotte, who’s been on the team for almost a full year and a half, since the start of her Sophmore year, can’t see the world so black and white. It’s not that she signed up to be a Cheerleader to fulfil some bitchy, blonde stereotype, it’s more that she had free time to fill and thought it would be fun. It took her a few months to find her footing once she’d been offered a place on the team, and was quickly thrust into her school’s the social spotlight, but she managed in the end, and had been managing ever since, mostly.

“Charlie, you’re so lucky,” Tommy, her cousin, lamented to her, driving her home after cheer practice, and marching band, had finished for the day. He was still in his uniform, as was Charlotte, and she gave him a sidelong glance, picking at the nail polish on her thumb. She doesn’t even give him an answer; ever since she’d joined the team, he had felt the need to wax poetic about the other cheerleaders and their uniforms. It’s so familiar that she doesn’t even need to prompt him into mooning over seeing Pamela in the cafeteria that day.

“She’s never going to date you if you don’t talk to her,” Charlotte’s smile is sly as her gaze slides back to the road, and the sun drifting towards the horizon.

“If Pam ever found out I’d looked at her, she’d probably just spit on me, call me pathetic or some shit,” Tommy’s eyeroll is implied by the flatness of his tone, but Charlotte can’t help but laugh.

“Oh Tommy, everyone looks at Pam,” she reminds him, and Tommy lets out an annoyed whine.

“I know,” he groans, clearly not cheered by that fact, feeling ever the more hopeless, and they fall into silence. Charlotte reaches down beside her seat and lifts a lever, pushing the seat back so she could comfortably rest her feet on his dashboard.

“Did you hear someone finally bought the MacCready burger joint? Dad was talking about it yesterday,” Tommy says mildly, making a left-hand turn onto their street. Charlotte raises her eyebrows, intrigued, but doesn’t speak. Tommy knows her well enough to take her silence as an invitation to go on, “Mrs Mac is going into hospice care and apparently some guy bought it and moved into town.”

“Oh shit, poor Mrs Mac,” Charlotte muses, and crosses her ankles on the dash, “hopefully their food is edible now.”

“Their burgers were great!” Tommy protested loudly.

“Their burgers were trash, Tommy! You’re just a rat -!”

“I’m not a rat!” He argues back, pulling into the gas station around the corner from their house. Tommy pulls up beside one of the pumps, and Charlotte gets out to browse the various snacks on offer inside the service station.

“Afternoon, Mick,” Charlotte calls out to the gas station attendant, the guy who’s been working here since he was fourteen, who’s currently got an electrical apprenticeship every other day. Charlotte realizes she might know too much about him considering he barely communicates in grunts most of the time. It’s not that he can’t speak, it’s just that he has a well documented dislike of her over exuberant cousin.

As expected, Mick doesn’t look up from his copy of Rolling Stone behind the counter, but makes a noise of acknowledgement.

Before Tommy has finished filling the tank, an unfamiliar figure enters the gas station, breezing past Charlotte and snatching up a packet of pork rinds, moving to the drinks fridge and taking a can of lemonade. The person is a young woman, though Charlotte doesn’t get a good look at her face; she’s got silky, black hair down to the small of her back, beneath a backwards baseball cap, and she’s the most notable of her clothes are her scuffed, black boots, and her oversized, black denim jacket littered with patches and pins.

When she puts her items on the counter in front of Mick, she pauses, frowning at the display, and Tommy enters the shop with an oblivious smile, asking if Charlotte had decided on anything.

“Can I help you?” Mick asks flatly, and the girl holds up a single finger, the universal signal for wait, and Mick huffs, but remains quiet. The girl adds a packet of gum to her haul, and leans her elbows on the counter.

“And a pack of Marlboros.”

Mick scowls.

“How old are you?”

“Are you being paid enough to care?” She responds, voice a low, challenging alto, and after a moment of deliberation, Mick actually shrugs, and turns to the cigarette display, picking out a pack for her as she pulled a few bills from her back pocket. After everything’s paid for, and the various food and drink had been stashed in the numerous pockets of her jacket, the girl is quick to open the cigarettes.

“They’re for my dad,” she explains, taking one out and putting it between her lips, grinning, “mostly.”

She passes a bewildered Tommy and Charlotte on the way out, giving them a flat look over, eyebrow raising minutely at the sight of Charlotte’s cheerleading uniform, but she’s quickly out the door. Tommy, flabbergasted at her display of confidence, marches straight up to counter and leans on it like he’d seen the woman do.

“A pack of -”

“Fuck off,” Mick tells him, before Tommy even finishes his sentence. Charlotte snorts a laugh, approaching the counter with a bottle of diet coke.

“Fifteen bucks on pump three,” Tommy sighs, pulling out his wallet, “and Charlie’s drink.”

“Do you know her, Mick?” Charlotte asks, still smiling, mind playing over the interaction.

“Do I look like I know her?” Mick grumbles, counting the handful of quarters Tommy had passed him with a ten dollar bill. Tommy, however, has never in his life taken Mick’s constant foul mood to heart, even when he probably should.

“He loves me, secretly, I know he does,” Tommy grinned when they were back in the car, heading to Charlotte’s house to drop her off, “we’ve known each other for five years, we’ll be friends any day now.”

“Tommy, he’s three days away from just decking you when you go to pay.”

“Which is a step up from when you said he’d throw me in front of traffic,” Tommy, ever the optimistic dumbass, chooses to look on the bright side. Tommy wears his affection on his sleeve, and seems to find himself trying to befriend anyone who would sooner fight him, if his hero-worship of local punk Nikki Sixx is anything to go by. It’s with a painful clarity that Charlotte realizes if he ever meets the girl from the gas station, he’s going to fall in love with her almost immediately.

Which makes Charlotte’s accidental and secret friendship with Nikki Sixx awkward.

“Oh Miss Lee,” Nikki whistles at her the following morning, wearing a grin that’s all teeth, “you know just what a guy likes to see on a Thursday morning.” He’s leering at her, leaning on the mesh of the fence, fingers hooked into the metal as he presses himself against it, his gaze trained on the pleat of her cheer uniform split upon her thigh over her tights.

“Every time you speak, I consider vehicular homicide,” Charlotte tells him with a sigh, straightening out her skirt, already resigned to the fact the rest of her free period was about to be co-opted.

“Then I’m glad you can’t drive,” Nikki’s still grinning, throwing his bag over the fence, into the garden Charlotte had thought was peaceful enough to study in.

“It’s the only thing keeping you alive,” she says, plastering a fake, sweet smile on her face, closing her biology textbook as Nikki vaults the fence a few feet away from her. She pulls her jacket a little tighter around herself, in an attempt to ward off the slight chill of the end of semester air.

Never in Charlotte’s life would she have intentionally tried to befriend Nikki Sixx. How was she supposed to know that two of her free periods coincided with when he liked to show up to school? And that the secluded garden area out behind the library where she liked to study in said free periods was the easiest place to sneak in?

She’s threatened to turn him in more times than he can remember, and he spits back that she should just find a new place to study, but she keeps showing up, and she never turns him in, and by now most of Nikki’s flirting is harmless.

They were both very much of the opinion that having a public friendship would be bad for the both of them; Nikki’s got more than a reputation of his own, both because his name technically isn’t Nikki, but he fights anyone who calls him Frank, and because he’s kind of a slut. Also there’s still an unconfirmed rumour about him being expelled from his first high school back in Seattle, since he’d joined their school a semester in Freshman year. Everyone’s too afraid to ask. Charlotte knows the cheerleaders aren’t above making hell for one of their own if they were caught fraternizing with someone like him.

That being said, Nikki had made it very clear that he’d rather saw off his arm than admit that they were even acquaintances, scoffing about how he’d lose any and all street cred he’d ever had if his friends found out he was hanging around Miss Everyone’s Best Friend Charlotte Lee. At the time, she’d taken offence to his tone, but she quickly came to learn that that’s just how Nikki is sometimes.

He offers her a cigarette from the pack in his pocket like he always does, sitting opposite her on the picnic bench instead of going to class, his bag still on the grass where he’d thrown it. Like always, Charlotte turns it down, but it does remind her-

“Saw a girl yesterday at Mick’s gas station that reminded me of you,” Charlotte flips to the back page of her notebook, which was already littered with little drawings, and starts scribbling idly.

“She hot?”

“I guess?” Charlotte says after a moment of consideration, “didn’t get to see her long enough to really be able to tell.” Nikki hums thoughtfully, and Charlotte, without looking up, “she asked Mick for cigarettes and he was like ‘how old are you?’ and she was like ‘are you being paid enough to care?’“

Nikki takes a long draft from his own cigarette, and kindly turns to the side to blow smoke into the wind, instead of directly into Charlotte’s face, as he used to do, or like he does when he’s annoyed.

“Mick would have mad respect for a move like that,” Nikki snorts, and when Charlotte looks up from her notebook, she sees him looking off into the distance, giving a genuine smile at the mental image. Maybe this is why she puts up with him, these rare genuine moments. He raises the cigarette to his lips again, and looks back at her, eyebrows raised, as if prompting her to go on. Charlotte looks back at her notebook.

“It inspired Tommy to try and buy smokes too, but Mick shut him down fast; I swear, if we show up when he’s clocking off, he’s going to K.O Tommy the first chance he gets.”

“Which is a step up from when you said he’d throw him in front of traffic,” Nikki notes, and Charlotte pauses, frowning. She hadn’t realised her hyperbolic threats on Mick’s behalf were a standard unit of measurement for how much he did or didn’t like her cousin. They were bullshit! Why did anyone take them seriously? Charlotte’s often astounded at her own credibility, and how much people tend to take her at her word without question.

“What’s she look like?” Nikki asks, flicking his ash into the grass, bringing Charlotte out of her thoughts.

“Who?”

“The girl from the gas station.”

“Oh,” Charlotte pauses, thinking, finally settling on, “she was wearing heaps of dark shit, had black hair, maybe that’s why I thought of you. I don’t know who she is though, didn’t recognize her from anywhere.” She adds, and Nikki hums thoughtfully, nodding. With his free hand, he snatches her pen out of her grip, despite her yelp of protest, and begins doodling pentagrams on the back cover of her notebook.

“You free tomorrow night?”

“I’d rather die than date you.”

“Charlie, you’re not my type -”

“Nikki, your type is tits and a heartbeat.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’d fuck you, but I’d rather be castrated than date you,” Nikki responds flatly, and Charlotte quickly shuts up, scowling, “but my band has a gig at a place that doesn’t card, so if you and that overgrown Labrador you call a cousin can sneak away from mommy and daddy for the night, you’re more than welcome to come party with the big kids.” He smirked, flicking Charlotte’s pen back at her. Charlotte’s annoyance has simmered down at his offer, considering his words.

“Nikki Sixx inviting me to see his band,” she mused, sly smile curling at the corners of her lips, mischief glinting in her eyes, “you like me, don’t you? You like Miss Everyone’s Best Friend. Soon I’m going to be your best friend too!” At least she was self aware enough about her people-pleasing tendencies to poke fun at his scorn.

“I like that you’re cousin’s obsessed with me, so bring him too,” Nikki’s quick to correct, but his heart’s not fully in it, if the smile he’s failing to repress is anything to go by, “I’m just in it for the ego trip, sweetheart.”

Charlotte gags at the pet name; the bell rings.

“She smells like an ash tray,” is the first thing Charlotte hears when she sits herself with the rest of the cheer squad at lunch, and she’s terrified for a moment that Heather, the Vice Captain of the squad, is talking about her. Discretely, Charlotte sniffs at her hair, worried that the perfume she’d spritzed to hide any of Nikki’s lingering smoke had worn off quickly. Heather’s not even looking at her, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially to the other gathered girls.

“Heather, half the people at this school smell like smoke,” Eileen cuts in as the voice of reason, taking a dainty bite of her food to punctuate her point. Heather’s expression sours.

“Yeah, but she’s pretty, why would she smoke?”

“Heather, you smoke,” Eileen rolls her eyes, and Heather sits back, crossing her arms, long, dainty fingers resting on her perfectly tanned and toned biceps.

“Yeah, but at least I have the decency not to smell like the bottom of an ashtray,” Heather raises an eyebrow, as if offering some form of challenge, and Charlotte watches Eileen bite back on a scathing retort, simply offering a withering smile, and continuing on with her lunch, “anyway,” Heather rolls her eyes, and starts up a new conversation with the girls on her other side, who were hanging onto her every word like it was gospel.

It’s quite possible that the tensions between Heather and Eileen may never actually die down, Charlotte considers, fiddling with the plastic-wrapped straw of her juice box. The thing is that Heather had only scored the position of Vice Captain of the cheerleading squad after Eileen, practically a shoe-in after two years on the squad and a pretty impressive acrobatic repertoire, publicly turned down the offer, quit, and joined the swim team the very next day, refusing to give a reason for any of her actions. A vicious joke circled the school about Heather being sloppy seconds, and despite Eileen never actually contributing to the joke in any way, or even acknowledging it, part of Heather still obviously resented her. The fact that Eileen still chose to sit with the cheerleaders despite not being one anymore, might also play into that, like she’s rubbing it in Heather’s face, even though she never would intend to do that.

Charlotte’s known Eileen for what feels like forever, since Summer camp in Grade School, living close enough to maintain a friendship, but not close enough that they were in the same district for Grade or Middle School. Both academically and socially minded young women, they’d found themselves in a number of clubs in those years that brought them face to face at meet or competitions, and thankfully, their local high school drew from a wider range of districts, finally bringing them together as allies, rather than competitors.

“Who were they talking about?” Charlotte asks quietly, stabbing her straw into her juice box, trying to keep their conversation discrete.

“A girl transferred into our grade -”

“On a Thursday?” Charlotte scoffs a little, “with three weeks left to go before Winter break?” And Eileen makes a noise in the back of her throat, an I know, it’s weird, right? Without saying any actual words.

“Something Fields; we just had French with her,” Eileen nods to where Heather’s now happily chattering with the other cheerleaders, earlier disagreement seemingly forgotten.

“Something?” Charlotte asked wryly, and Eileen gave her an amused look.

“Madame Laurent’s accent would butcher the name Sally, I’m surprised I managed to understand Fields,” and okay, she has a point, Madame Laurent’s French accent was half the reason any of the students studied the language, if only to understand her, because her English, while technically good, was sometimes incomprehensible.

“The girl didn’t correct her?”

“Nah, just kept quiet, embarrassed, I think,” Eileen mused, and Charlotte hummed thoughtfully, “though she did sit herself right next to Heather; bold move, I’ll applaud her for that.”

“Bet Heather didn’t like that,” Charlotte snickered quietly, and Eileen’s smile stretched into a full grin.

“She straight up moved the moment the girl put her bag down.”

“The poor girl,” Charlotte shook her head with a sigh, before clarifying, “not Heather, obviously.” Eileen snorted a laugh.

“What’s the new girl like?” Charlotte finds herself asking, intrigued.

“Quiet,” is Eileen’s immediate answer, “couldn’t get a good read on her, but she knows a decent amount of French.” But she deliberates for a moment, “looks kind of mean.” And for the barest moment, Charlotte frowns, mind flashing to the girl she’d seen at the gas station yesterday... it couldn’t be.

“Black hair?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“I saw a girl at the gas station yesterday, black hair, kind of mean looking, Mick didn’t know her,” that was the big tip; Mick seemed to know all the gas station regulars, so she must be new. Eileen catalogued this information in her mind, but had no comment on it beyond a shrug, before reminding Charlotte that they had debate after school, and asking if Tommy would be sticking around to give her a lift home.

“He will be, he’s got practice until four too,” Charlotte said with a half smile, “and yes, he can give you a lift home too... Will Peach be needing one too?” She asked, referring to Eileen’s younger sister, but Eileen shook her head.

“She’s staying back until five every day this week to finish her science fair project, mom’s happy to pick her up - something about magnets this year - but I don’t want to wait around.”

“Wait, how long until the science fair?” Last year, Eileen, Charlotte, Tommy, and Vince Neil, who they’d still considered something of a friend at the time, had all come to support Peach in both her first year of high school, and her first science fair. Peach had come third, with a rather impressive display about which various household liquids killed plants fastest, and all three had cheered when she’d been given her ribbon, and Tommy and Vince spent the entire ride in the back of Peach and Eileen’s mom’s station wagon ranting about how she should have won, and scheming about how to best put a dead houseplant in their science teacher’s bed, like some low budget, home depot Scarface. Tommy may have become their friends via his place as a constant fixture in Charlotte’s life, and Vince simply because he had grown up as something of her neighbour and Tommy’s close friend, but their loyalty was absolute. Well, almost absolute. Vince was noticeably absent from their current roster of friends however, the then-four of them how vowed to make it a habit, and they could all tell Peach had been touched by the gesture, and Eileen, Charlotte, and Tommy were, at the very least, going to uphold that promise. A small smile plays on Eileen’s face.

“Next Tuesday, she’s so excited.”

if you put your mind to it, you can do anything. but you won’t.

So according to Eileen, Vince Neil is throwing a party on Saturday, and seeing as Charlotte’s parents still think the world of Vince after he’d been so kind of her after everything happened with her ex at the start of the year, she’s allowed to go. They went to middle school together, though he was always a year younger than her, in Tommy’s grade, and their parents were passive-aggressive PTA friends for a few years there, and, as mentioned before, he’d been genuinely sweet when she was at her lowest. Her parents don’t know that a week and a half into Summer break, right after he’d taken her to prom and promised to key her ex’s car if she asked, he started surfing, starting hanging out at the beach with the rest of the pretty, mean jocks spending their Summer in the sun, and had turned into a vain asshole. Or, well, more of a vain asshole than he already was.

Vince’s family was well off, and his parties were legendary, which is what made her parents agreeing to let her go so strange.

What they didn’t, and would never agree to, was letting her go to Nikki’s gig, so she didn’t even bother to ask. Instead, she asked to spend the weekend with Tommy and Athena. Her mother calls to confirm that that would be okay, Charlotte packs a duffle bag with outfits for the weekend, and her mother reminds her to take care of herself at the party the following night, kissing her on both cheeks when Tommy turns up in his beat up Vista Cruiser.

“Why are you hanging out with us tonight?” Tommy asks, frowning, still in the clothes he’d worn to school. Charlotte’s grip tightens on her duffle bag.

“Because we’re going out tonight.”

Immediately, Tommy’s posture straightens, and his expression lights up; he was delightfully easy to excite. Suddenly he was brimming with questions as he drove, fighting to keep his eyes on the road, and Charlotte let herself relax a little, glad to see he was onboard.

“Nikki Sixx’s band -”

“- is playing tonight!” Tommy finishes her sentence, his voice breaking on the last word out of excitement, though Charlotte kindly doesn’t comment, and it doesn’t stop Tommy’s eyes from sparkling, “he wrote it in sharpie in pretty much every bathroom in the school; you want to go?” Yeah, that sounds about par for the course for Nikki Sixx’s brand of advertising.

“You’re half in love with the guy,” Charlotte ignored Tommy’s spluttered protests, “so I wanna see what the hype is about,” she lied easily. She wasn’t a fan of lying to Tommy, he deserved better than that, but he also might crash if he knows that Nikki had personally invited them.

Tommy begs his mom to let them go, promising to be safe and be back by midnight, and the moment Charlotte vouches for him, his mother’s concern melts into agreement, and Athena complains that she’s never allowed to go anywhere. Tommy sticks his tongue out at her, and she kicks him in the shins, scowling, until Charlotte asks her to help her get ready, and Athena brightens considerably.

“Charlie you look like a badass!” Tommy delights when he steps out of the bathroom, hair all teased up, eyeliner expertly applied his waterline, wearing an outrageous outfit. He was going to fit in easily.

“Holy shit, dude, so do you -”

“Tommy! That’s my shirt!” Athena accused, storming over to him, trying to pull the tight, black tank top with the hot pink diamante lightning bolt off of him, despite his jacket over it, while he tried to slap her away.

“It looks better on me!” Tommy snapped, escaping her grasp and trying to hide in the bathroom.

“Dude, she’s thirteen, give her the shirt back, you can borrow one of mine,” Charlotte sighed, standing back from it all.

“Never!”

His mother called out if everything’s okay, and while Athena yelled that Tommy was stealing from her, Charlotte called back that she’d take care of it.

“Charlie, please,” Athena sulked, leaning against the closed bathroom door, while Tommy told his sister to piss off. Charlotte sighed, before giving the young girl an evaluative look.

“Would you let him wear it for five bucks?”

Athena squinted at her, seriously considering the offer; if Tommy had made it, there would be no way she would have accepted, but she knew Charlotte was good for it.

“Fine, but if he stretches it, I’m telling mom about his stash of Playboys,” she threatened, to which both Tommy and Charlotte made noises of surprise, Charlotte because she hadn’t known about that, and Tommy because he clearly didn’t think Athena knew about it either.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Tommy hisses, wrenching the door open. Athena turns arms crossed, smile smug, and gives him her best try me look. Tommy wrinkles his nose, but stalks into his room, grabbing a five ones from his wallet and giving them to Athena, who Charlotte had never seen so pleased before.

“I hate her,” Tommy seethed, and Charlotte petted his shoulder in solidarity.

“I know,” and then, “aren’t you going to be cold?”

“I’ve got another jacket.”

The pub, Kings’ Hotel, sits on the border between suburbia and the CBD, and Charlotte’s been past it a million times, has spent a considerable amount of time idly staring out the window of MacCready’s Diner across the road, but never actually been inside. Speaking of MacCready’s, there’s a ton of scaffolding around it that Charlotte definitely doesn’t remember, and the sign’s been taken down, so it appears Tommy’s gossip about it being under new management was true.

There’s no bouncer, but high schoolers and music were already spilling from the building by the time Charlotte and Tommy showed up. The music is decent, if a little heavy, but Charlotte knows she could definitely get into it if she wanted to. When she approaches the building, she notices a gaggle of vaguely recognizable people all in a cluster, huddle together while they smoked to keep warm in the cold night air.

“Hi Heather,” Tommy calls out to one, putting on his most winning smile, and when Charlotte gets a proper look, yeah she can see Heather with her hair sprayed up and lipstick shiny, give her cousin a sceptical look. She does, however, notice Charlotte, and her expression shifts to something faux sweet and coy, a show of being amicable to someone obviously associated with a fellow cheerleader, and she gives them both a wave.

“I thought you had a thing for Pam,” Charlotte asks quietly as they push their way into the pub.

“Charlie, I’m into any and every cheerleader I’m not related to, why should I deprive any of the other lovely young ladies by only focusing on one girl?”

“Gross,” was Charlotte’s only comment. Tommy ignored her.

It was kind of overwhelming at first, between the loud music, the crush of people she half-knew, the fact that the bartender didn’t even blink when Tommy ordered a beer, or the fact that Nikki Sixx was on stage in skin tight leather pants, playing bass like it was his God given mission in life.

Her ex and his best friend had also been kind of obsessed with Nikki and his band, and she was coming to understand the hype. Between the swirling lights, the people on the dancefloor, and the heat of the crowd, it was almost hypnotizing to be a part of.

“You should get a drink,” Tommy urges, and Charlotte hesitates. She’s had spiked punch before, half a glass of wine at a family get together when her mom had been tipsy and feeling indulgent, and a couple of sips of beer that her ex had offered her when they’d gone to parties together, but she’d never really...

“I don’t know what to order,” she admits, hesitant, but still raising her voice over the music. Tommy offers her his beer to taste, but Charlotte was already well aware of the fact that beer tasted like piss, and she turns him down. She tries to think back to what people order in TV shows and movies, and tentatively approaches the bar.

“Could I get a jack and coke?” She asks, just thankful that her voice doesn’t shake. The bartender looks her up and down, checking her out without a hint of subtlety, and Charlotte fights the urge to pull her jacket tighter around herself.

“Of course, honey, that’ll be five-fifty,” the bartender smirks, and Charlotte gives an uncertain smile back, thanking him and passing over a ten dollar note. He gives her a five change, along with her drink and a wink. Gross.

“What’d you get?” Tommy asks, when she finds him again, standing against the opposite wall, already halfway through his drink. Charlotte’s holding hers in her fingertips, nervous, taking a sip and scrunching up her whole face at the taste.

“Jack and coke,” she hisses as the alcohol burns. Tommy’s eyebrows shoot up at her bold choice, and asks if he can try it. She offers it easily, and he too makes a face as he drinks, but pretends like it’s great.

They see more people they recognize, people confused but glad to see them out. They’re almost immediately accosted by Keanu, yet another face Charlotte hadn’t been expecting to see, and he wraps them both up in a hug; he’s all dark hair and wide, easy smiles, somehow everyone’s friend in a way that’s so different from how Charlotte seems to be everybody’s friend, but he and Tommy get on like a house on fire. There’s a resilience they both seem to have, and a shared enthusiasm, despite the fact that Keanu was a Senior, a year above Charlotte, and a full two above Tommy, but his good nature seemed to override these boundaries; the moment Tommy mentions he’d been thinking of heading to the dancefloor, Keanu’s more than happy to join him.

Immediately Tommy gulps down the last mouthful and beer and the pair of boys see fit to start cutting shapes on the dance floor with wild abandon, and so Charlotte finds herself at a table at the back of the room with Heather, a few other cheerleaders and their boyfriends, and surprisingly, Vince. He’s in white leather pants, and they look cool as hell, but also it’s Vince, and Charlotte’s fighting back the urge to laugh.

“Charlotte Lee, you’re looking fine tonight,” Vince slide into the space beside her, and Charlotte doesn’t roll her eyes, or make a comment about how he looks like a greasy snowman, no matter how much she wants to.

“Surprised to see you here, Vince, where’s all your popular little surfer pals?” She asks sweetly, and Vince raises his eyebrows at her, a retort on the tip of his tongue.

“I forgot you two knew each other,” Heather says, and she pauses, clearly deliberating, something dangerous in her eyes, “didn’t you used to date?”

“No,” Charlotte blurts quickly, though Vince is just as quick to deny it, “we’re friends- we were friends; not anymore. We went to prom together, yes, but we never dated.” She clarifies quickly, body language all tight and uncomfortable, which manages to go all the way over Vince’s head, and his hand comes to rest on his heart, expression reading betrayal.

“How long have been known each other, Charlie, for you to say we’re not even friends -”

And maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the alcohol, but Charlotte snapped.

“We were friends for years, Vinny, then six months ago you decided to spend all your time with a bunch of tools and bragged about taking me to prom because I was a cheerleader, and also - oh yeah, remember this? - made one of your best friends cry,” Charlotte hissed venomously, shoulders still tense, fingers gripping the edge of the table. Vince scowled.

“Peach wasn’t-” the words spill from him automatically, but there’s a flicker of something that may just be shame in his eyes, so he drops his gaze and starts again; “my friends are not tools -”

“The Vince who was my friend wouldn’t skip school three days a week to get high and fuck on the beach!”

“It sounds like you two have a lot to work out...” Heather seems genuinely surprised, and while she’d been fishing for gossip, this was too much, and she graciously backed out of the conversation, pulling one of her friends over to the bar. Charlotte was suddenly aware of how hot it was in the bar, how sweaty and oppressive it all felt.

“People can fucking change, Charlotte,” Vince scowled.

“You didn’t change for the better, Vince, whatever the opposite of character growth is, it’s what happened to you.” Charlotte spat, and turned on her heel before he can respond. She didn’t want to stand on the side side of the road out the front, so she heads for the door labelled Beer Garden, and steps into the cool night air.

Once outside, she realises how quiet it is, and when she sees Nikki Sixx at one of the tables with a blonde girl giggling in his lap, she comes to the conclusion that the band must be on break. The Beer Garden is mostly populated by smokers, the people around Nikki being the cool, intimidating, stoner punk rockers that she’d figured would be here, but that she can’t bring herself to approach. It’s nice to take a moment to be alone, she finds, breathing in the crisp night air, head feeling clearer for it, looking up at the stars glittering overhead.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Vince is a fucking tool. He’d made Peach cry the week they got back to school, and Charlotte had vowed to never forgive him for it.

After a few minutes, Charlotte takes the time to really look at the people milling around, wondering if she actually recognised anyone. Much to her surprise, in the back corner of the courtyard area, she did.

Side by side, Mick from the gas station, and the mysterious girl who’d bought cigarettes from him, sitting on the edge of a planter full of dead shrubs, both smoking, neither speaking, reading one magazine between the two of them.

Charlotte’s not quite sure who’s more likely to stab her, between Mick and the girl, and Nikki’s band of misfits, but she hedges her bets and heads to the pair at the back.

“Having a good night, Mick?” Charlotte asks tentatively, before giving pause. They’re reading a ratty old copy of Hustler. Mick looks up, and lets go of his side of the magazine, letting the girl take it, to keep flipping idly through.

“The band’s okay,” Mick muses, and seems to realise that his cigarette has gone out when he tries to take a drag on it, and he pulls out a lighter and relights it, “how’s your night been?”

“It’s been alright, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Charlotte gives an awkward laugh, looking to the magazine, which Mick seems to either have forgotten about, or not realise that he’s reading porn in public, but finally the girl looks up.

“Someone cut out all the tits,” she’s got an accent Charlotte hadn’t noticed back at the gas station, and still can’t quite place, but that’s not the part she focuses on.

“What?”

The girl flips the magazine around to show a Farrah Fawcett look-alike posing suggestively, with her entire torso cut from the magazine, just leaving a hole where the cologne ad on the next page can be seen.

“Found it on the side of the road on the way here,” Mick says, like it suffices for an entire explanation. Instead of elaborating, he offers Charlotte a cigarette.

“No thanks, I don’t smoke,” an awkward silence follows, Charlotte with her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her jacket, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, while the girl close the magazine with a resounding slap and threw it over her shoulder into the dead shrubs, “I’m Charlotte.” Charlotte offers her hand. The girl looks at it, then to Charlotte’s face.

“From the gas station, the cheerleader” she says, tone unreadable, giving Charlotte a scrutinizing look, like she’s waiting for the blonde to shirk under it’s intensity. Charlotte doesn’t back down, and the girl finally gives her a firm handshake, “Lola.”

Silence followers, chatter filters over from the various other groups, Nikki’s laugh, loud and clear, above the rest. Neither Mick nor Lola makes room for Charlotte, so she sways idly from side to side, people watching the rest of the courtyard.

“Didn’t pick you for this type of scene,” Mick muses finally, crossing his ankles and fixing Charlotte with a strangely neutral expression, cigarette almost burned down to the butt where it’s poised between his lips, “that over-eager cousin of yours, sure, but this doesn’t seem like it’s your style.”

“Oh, Tommy is here,” Charlotte’s quick to clarify, looking around as if he were about to jump out of the bushes and irritate the rarely amicable Mick, “but, I don’t know,” she shrugged like coming out tonight wasn’t her idea, “I’m more than happy to give anything a go at least once; people at my school are kind of weirdly obsessed with the bass player, so I guess I wanted to see what the hype was about.”

Mick finished his cigarette as he considered her words, giving a pensive look to the bass player himself, still surrounded by a gaggle of fans, and eventually stubbed the last of the ash out against the edge of the planter he was sitting on, letting the butt fall, crumpled, to the ground.

“He’s the only one with any ounce of talent,” voice gruff, Mick’s approval comes as a surprise to both Charlotte, who’s eyes go wide at the statement, and Lola, who barks an unexpected laugh, that ends with her choking on the smoke in her lungs. Mick thumps her on the back, and she roughly when her breathing clears, tears watering in her eyes.

“Whoever writes their songs is half decent,” Lola points out, wiping her eyes with her sleeve, after which she dropped her own mostly burnt-out cigarette, crushing it under the heel of her boot. Yes, she has a point, but Charlotte’s curiosity gets the better of her.

“Can I ask...?” At her tentative tone, Lola immediately tenses, growing defensive, “are you Lola Fields?”

“Why?” Lola immediately snaps, and Charlotte raises her hands in surrender. Mick’s arms are crossed, looking with interest between the two girls.

“I think you go to my school,” Charlotte quickly clarifies, but Lola’s scowl deepens, as if wondering how she knew that, “do you take AP French with a tall, ginger girl?”

“I don’t really know who else is in the class,” Lola slowly tells her, but it’s not a no, which is all that matters. Charlotte nods, but doesn’t press the subject, “it’s weird that you know that much about me.” Lola adds.

“It’s barely anything,” Charlotte points out, baffled at the sudden defensiveness.

“You know my last name and that I do AP French,” Lola says, and her gaze shifts from Charlotte to the gaggle of fans surrounding Nikki, as they all started to head inside.

“Well,” Charlotte doesn’t let her resolve falter, smiling, “my name’s Charlotte Lee, and --”

“Oi, Cheerleader, you coming inside? We’ve got another set to go!” Nikki Sixx’s voice rings out through the courtyard area, and Charlotte visibly cringes at the sound of it, turning slowly on her heel, still wincing when she faces him.

And yes, he was talking to her, his hands are still cupped around his mouth like a megaphone, a tunnel showing off his smug and toothy grin. She hadn’t realised he’d even noticed her, but he had, and he needed her to know he had.

“The world doesn’t revolve around you,” she calls back, irritated. Nikki lowers his hands, and even from this distance she can see him raising his eyebrows.

“But you’re here, aren’t you?” He leaves the because I invited to you as an implication only she would hear, knowing she would hear it nonetheless. Charlotte sighs deeply, shoulders sagging with resignation, and Nikki, feeling as though he’d won, turns sharply on his heel and marches inside.

“I hate him,” Charlotte groaned.

“You know him?” Mick seems rather surprised, enough that the emotion could be heard in his voice. Charlotte turns back, not quite sure what to expect when she faced them. Mick is watching Charlotte with actual interest. Lola was watching the spot where Nikki had been, expression carefully blank.

“He’s a pain,” Charlotte says, defeated, and Lola’s gaze flicks to her, expression turning amused, but before she can get a word in -

“There you are!” The door to the now mostly-empty beer garden bursts open, and Tommy makes himself known. He’s left Keanu somewhere inside, apparently, now that he was on the hunt for his cousin. Mick sighs so heavily that it’s all he can do to lean back into the planter, arms crossed over his chest like a vampire, as if the very sight of the kid exhausts him. From this position, the packet of cigarettes in his pocket is exposed, and Lola steals one.

“I’ll owe you,” is all she says, as Tommy approaches, in less of a beeline, and more of an unsteady wave, more than a little tipsy. Christ, his mom is gonna kill them both.

“I was looking everywhere for you,” his wide eyes betrayed his concern, despite his current state, but his concern turns to joy, upon seeing her company, “hi, Mick!” Mick does not answer, laying with his eyes closed, in the shrubs.

“He’s dead,” Lola supplies without missing a beat, pulling out her lighter and lighting the stolen cigarette, and Tommy’s expression falls.

“We should help him -”

“I can help him, don’t worry,” Lola assures, with faux seriousness, before her tone shifts to something light, easily distracting the tipsy boy, “you were in the gas station the other day with this one, weren’t you?” She gestures with her lighter towards Charlotte; Tommy looks to his cousin before looking to Lola.

“I- yeah, oh, shit, you’re- hi,” suddenly flustered as he finally remembered where he knew her from, he offers his hand, “Tommy.”

“Lola,” there’s a new edge to her smile, sparkling in her eyes as she taking in Tommy and his whole look, which has something strangely protective flare up in Charlotte’s chest. But then Lola catches the slight frown on Charlotte’s face, and it’s like she knows exactly what she’s thinking, because she lets go of Tommy’s hand and her expression betrays on the faintest hint of amusement.

“Lola,” Tommy nods very seriously, as if committing the name to his memory in his current state was quite the task, but he persisted nonetheless. After a moment, however, he seemed to remember his original mission, “Vince thought you’d headed home -”

“Fuck Vince,” Charlotte spits automatically, venomously, a knee-jerk response, and Tommy’s stunned into silence.

“Do you want to go home?” Tommy’s far too earnest and concerned for his current state, and Charlotte feels momentarily guilty for her outburst, hanging her head and letting herself breathe for a moment.

“No, the music’s good, we just got into a fight -”

“You guys used to actually be good friends,” Tommy hesitates, confused, and Charlotte gives him a rueful smile when she looks back at him.

“Then he decided that being nice to the people who have been friends with him for years was lame.”

“He’s nice to me,” Tommy says, sounding a little put out, and Charlotte shrugged, crossing her arms.

“And he’s still nice to me, doesn’t mean he’s not a tool; I’m a cheerleader, and you’re a guy, of course he’s still going to be nice to us.”

Tommy still doesn’t get it, but Charlotte decides to head back into the pub with him, throwing over her shoulder that it was nice to meet Lola. She could almost swear she heard a muttered ‘fuckin’ teenagers’ from Mick, all of nineteen years old himself, which just has Charlotte rolling her eyes. Mick taps Lola’s arm when Charlotte glances over her shoulder, while the rest of him still lays flat in the dirt, and Lola passes him the cigarette obligingly, crossing one leg over the other and smirking at him.

it doesn’t matter if the glass is half full or half empty. i am gonna drink it through this crazy straw!

“Vince is on the warpath,” Eileen’s always been able to remain composed while unreasonably drunk better than any person Charlotte’s ever known, and the following night, while Vince’s house party rages around them in the living room of his house, is no exception. She won’t say how many vodka sodas she’s had, or who supplied her with the vodka, but the way she was unable to suppress the amused twist of her lips was a dead giveaway that she was a little more than tipsy.

“Oh?” Charlotte’s eyes were roaming from face to face at the party, never sticking to just one, hands clutching a red solo cup full of cheap wine.

“Someone told him the person who keyed his car was here,” Eileen’s close to laughter, and Charlotte’s eyebrows raise in surprise.

“Does he -”

“No,” Eileen shakes her head, taking another delicate sip of her own drink, “he thinks it’s one of Duff’s friends.” She says, before her eyes going wide, and she slaps her free hand over her mouth - “sorry.” Charlotte, who’s too tipsy to care about the mention of her ex, is more confused than anything else.

“Because of me?” She actually snorts, skeptical, “as if Duff or any of his friends cared about who took me to prom after everything happened, enough to key Vince’s car.” It’s been long enough now that she can laugh at it, and the warped logic of it all, knowing full well that the girl sitting beside her was the real vandal of Vince’s shiny, red car.

“Can you believe Vince asked me to invite Peach? After all that shit he pulled on her after Summer? I almost clocked him in the middle of the carpark!” Eileen’s movements were relaxed and uncomplicated, so unlike her usual demeanour, so easy-going, so honest, sometimes drunk-Eileen’s openness caught Charlotte by surprise, “told him to invite her himself if he wanted her there so bad.”

“I’m in awe of your restraint,” Charlotte mused, leaning into Eileen, letting her eyes fall closed in an attempt to keep the room from spinning in her vision, “he’s such an ass; I’m surprised you’re even here.”

“The nerve on him, acting like he’s too good to be seen with her because he’s got new friends,” Eileen shook her head, wrapping her free arm around Charlotte’s shoulders, securing her, still people watching, “I should have keyed him,” for a moment, she hiccups, and when Charlotte cracks her eye open for a moment to guage her friend’s current state, she sees Eileen glaring into her mostly-empty cup.

“I’m still deciding if I should pee on something he cares about,” Eileen says, tone so serious that Charlotte can’t help but dissolve into giggles.

“What?”

“‘s why I’m here,” Eileen was so earnest in her declaration that Charlotte was a little nervous, if only because drunk-Eileen would absolutely do something as undignified as pee on something of Vince’s in an act of revenge.

“Would you key Duff’s car for me?” Charlotte asked to change the topic, all soft and teasing, and she can hear rare, unrestrained the smile in Eileen’s voice when she assured Charlotte she would in a heartbeat, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

Despite it still being early in the night, Charlotte knew that if she seemed drunk when she got back to Tommy’s house, her Aunt would tell her mom, and that’s the exact opposite of what she needs. Tommy can get legless if he wants, he only has to face the wrath of his weirdly supportive parents; if Charlotte comes home obviously drunk, she won’t be allowed out of the house until college. So she decides to get water.

There’s bodies everywhere, and Charlotte’s struggling to move through them, even with Eileen guiding her to the kitchen.

Charlotte’s been in and around this house so many times, it should be second nature to her; she and Tommy had spent what felt like half their childhoods in this house, within it’s pristine, white walls, and expensive, leather furniture, playing pretend trying to imagine what their future would turn out to be. None of them would have pictured this, of Charlotte, of Charlotte hating Vince and still stumbling, drunk through his house, nor had they seen Vince, playing pretend with popularity, tossing them all aside for a set of conceited fair-weather friends. Tommy’s never been able to predict his own future, too willing to go with the flow to be too certain of anything.

Away from the living room, and the record player, the music is muffled, and the chatter is quieter, as people are here for drinks, or snacks, while most were choosing to dance in the crush in the living room, or making regrettable, teenage decision upstairs.

Eileen tops up her drink with obviously spiked punch. Half vodka and soda, half spiked fruit punch. Gross. Charlotte looks on in disgust as she sips water, and Eileen acts like there’s no difference between taste, but she interrupts her own performance of stoicism when her eyes widen.

“Fields.”

“What?” Charlotte asks, confused as all hell, following Eileen’s gaze to where the kitchen opens up onto the patio, only to see Lola, in a full face of makeup, hair sprayed to high heavens, wearing all sorts of black, ripped, mesh and denim layers, looking like an intimidating cross between glam rock and crust punk. She was straddling someone’s lap, looking at them intently, what looked to be a black, eyeliner pencil in her hand.

“That’s the girl from my French class,” Eileen sounds a little surprised to see her, and Charlotte smiles a little.

“Her name’s Lola -” but her mouth drops open when Lola, in the dim light spilling from the kitchen, leans in and kisses whoever she’s sitting on. After a beat, both Charlotte and Eileen burst in fits of unsubtle laughter, not having anticipated this turn of events. They’re holding each other for support in their drunken amusement, laughing like this is somehow the funniest thing they’ve ever encountered, thankfully aware enough to set aside their cups.

“I- we’re intruding right? This is- we should leave-” they’re not even the only ones in the kitchen when Charlotte says this, gasping for breaths between her laughs, but they seem to be the only ones who have noticed what’s happening, or at least the only ones who halfway care.

Until there comes a shout of ‘yeah, get some, Tommy!’ from the bonfire about thirty yards from the patio, and Charlotte very clearly and distinctly thinks ‘oh no’.

Vince is silhouetted by the fire, bleach blonde hair catching the light, but Charlotte can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Shut up, Vince!” Lola’s partner, who is now unmistakably Tommy, calls back, flustered, as Lola hides her grin against his shoulder. Vince and his cronies, none of whom Charlotte knows by name, jeer in response. Then Lola’s leaning back and saying something that Charlotte doesn’t catch, but suddenly Tommy looks inside, his expression turning from flustered and pleased to horrified as his gaze locks with Charlotte’s and they both know that she knows.

Eileen is wheezing with laughter beside her.

Charlotte sees Tommy’s now lipstick-stained mouth mutter ‘shit’. Lola follows his gaze, and waves awkwardly at Charlotte. Charlotte also mutters ‘shit’.

Charlotte tips out her water and gets herself another cup of wine from the back of Vince’s refrigerator. A lot has happened in thirty seconds, she thinks she deserves one more drink for the night.

#mick mars #tommy lee #vince neil #nikki sixx #motley crue #the pack #charlotte & lola #lola&charlotte #the angry lizard writes

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shadowofmoths · 3 years

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for @blaseballwipamnesty: 1.4k of a Sutton Dreamy study, immediately post-ascension. i may come back to it someday--would’ve been eventual sutton dreamy/juice collins, with background nagomi mcdaniels/mrs silk, and nagomi & sutton friendship. warnings for description of a panic attack/breakdown, with some slight descriptions of depersonalization, and not the most healthy handling of intense emotions, and non-maincord-friendly swearing.

The problem was that Sutton didn’t know she had had a home until it was taken away from her. She didn’t know that home could be the gas station fried chicken the team would share before practice at unholy hours. She hadn’t known it could be sitting in the stands with Parra and talking about extradimensionality, or Kennedy calling her “kiddo,” or finding impossibly long strands of Combs’ hair in everything she owned even after they were gone. Her home had been splurging on overpriced aquarium tickets and caramel-and-Old-Bay ice cream, and falling asleep to the scuttling whispers of the MotherCrab every night. It hadn’t occurred to her that Baltimore had been her home, but it was. And then it was gone.

Ascension was like having a limb ripped away from her. No--Ascension was like being the limb that was ripped away. Being the part that gets left behind, unnecessary and useless. Unable to function on its own. An arm without a body, displaced. One second she is with her team, and they’ve won, and they had tried to be as prepared as possible for what would come next, but nothing could have prepared them for this. And then, loud and sudden and all-encompassing, they are somewhere else, somewhere so wrong that, even for Sutton, it’s nightmarish. They’re losing like they’ve never lost before--but isn’t it an honor, to have a god come after you personally? And it’s all over so suddenly that none of them have the chance to say goodbye. Between one blink and the next, her family is one. Another breath, and Sutton is swept away, too--not to follow them, but instead washing up on the soft, unfamiliar sands of Hawai’i. It is only the second time in her life that Sutton regrets teaching herself how to feel. She feels broken-open, realizing only belatedly that her face is wet with more than just ocean spray. She’s crying, violently so, and doesn’t understand at first that she’s furious. It’s the most emotion she’s ever felt at once, and it’s horrible--everything so intense that it comes back around to feeling distant and numb. She’s gotten herself out of the water, somehow, curled up on her side as she heaves with what must be inhumanly ugly sobs. Everything around her blurs, until she is aware of the sand in her fingernails and the salt drying in her eyelashes and her rage and nothing else. After maybe an eternity she hears a voice from somewhere, somewhere nearby, maybe. It’s a distinctive, rasping voice, a familiar one, but it still takes Sutton a moment to place it.

“Sutton,” Nagomi is saying. “Breathe, come on, Dreamy. Damn it, can you hear me?” Nagomi’s mandibles click anxiously. Sutton chokes on her own breath.

“Gomi,” she gasps. A thud, like someone dropping to the ground next to her, and the weight and warmth of Nagomi’s uncarcinized hand rubbing circles on Sutton’s back.

“Yeah, Dreamy. You gotta breathe with me, okay? You can freak out all you want, but let me at least get you inside, first.” She keeps talking, even when Sutton’s perception goes all fuzzy, and eventually the familiar creaking of her voice soothes her back into something approaching coherence. Nagomi helps her stand, hand still steady on her back, and for the first time, Sutton can take in her surroundings. They’re on a small beach, enclosed and private, with no one but herself and Nagomi in sight. There’s a house, maybe 50 yards away from the beach, with white siding and soft blue curtains in the windows. There’s a vegetable garden in the yard, and a path of uneven stone leading to the house.

“Where are we?” Sutton manages to ask, voice hoarse. In response, Naagomi beams, her mouth stretching impossibly wide. They approach the back door, and Nagomi slides it open with enough familiarity that Sutton doesn’t think to question her.

“Dreamy,” Nagomi says, as a dark haired, oddly familiar-looking woman turns to look at them, “I’d like you to meet my wife.”

Mrs. Silk, unsurprisingly, is a lovely woman, and, more surprisingly, Sutton absolutely does not want to talk to her. Sutton thinks that she might stumble through some pleasantries, but between everything that’s happened to her wife and her son, Sutton is pretty sure that Mrs. Silk won’t judge anyone for being inconsolable over blaseball. Nagomi presses a glass of water into Sutton’s hands and Sutton drinks it, although she remains only distantly aware of her body. She might drink more water, or someone might ask if she wants anything to eat, but time seems to stretch and compress oddly and the next thing Sutton knows, she’s curling up to sleep on the living room sofa. She might lie awake, staring at the ceiling, or she might fall asleep in moments, and either way she is glad when sleep takes her.

It’s still dark when Sutton wakes, and for a few moments she doesn’t know where she is. What she does know is that she’s tired of feeling numbly miserable. Players get traded all the time, she tells herself. So what if her entire team is gone somewhere she can’t follow? She was bound to leave the Crabs someday, so she might as well get ahold of herself and learn to deal with it. So she heaves herself off of the couch and leaves Mrs. Silk’s house. The night sky sheds deep blue light over the sand and the water. It’s an entirely different sort of night than Sutton is used to, no humming yellow city lights or sirens or omnipresent eldritch whispering. It’s quiet, and Sutton hates it. She wants to scream and shatter the night like glass, but she doesn’t. Instead she walks, along the beach until she finds a road, and along the road until she finds a town, and through the town until she finds a bar. It’s still open, which surprises her, but after a moment of staring up at the neon sign, she goes in. The space is quiet, its walls made of dark wood, with soft, warm lighting throughout. To Sutton’s relief, she’s not the only one there--several patrons sit in booths or at the bar, where a single bartender is serving drinks. The bartender is wearing a blue patterned button down with the sleeves rolled up, her dark hair held up in a loose bun with a cocktail umbrella stuck into it. She has warm, dark skin and a warmer smile that she’s directing at the customer she’s talking to. When she catches sight of Sutton, the bartender smiles--she has dimples--and waves to her.

“Hi! We close in about an hour, but you’re welcome to stay until then.”

“Oh,” Sutton says, “sorry, I--I don’t even know what time it is,” she admits.

“No worries!” says the bartender. “It’s--” she checks her watch, “--just after eleven. We close at midnight.”

“Thanks,” Sutton says. She’s off-put by the woman’s demeanor, a sudden reminder that not everyone had their world end earlier today. But that’s not her fault, Sutton tells herself. She takes a seat at the bar.

[Plot notes: Sutton wanders and eventually ends up at Juice’s bar--doesn’t know what to order, because she doesn’t drink, and the only thing she remembers other Crabs drinking is like, shitty beer is making it natty boh too cliche?? im never around baltimoreans drinking. Juice won’t give Sutton alcohol because it’s pretty clear that Sutton is fucked up, but they talk. Juice remembers Sutton, but Sutton had a kind of insular attitude to making friends and doesn’t really know Juice. This is a little bit of a meet-ugly, because this is the literal worst day that Sutton has had, ever, in her life. Juice is really sweet, though, and doesn’t hold a grudge because she saw Sutton’s worst day of her life televised, as did pretty much everybody. The rest of the plot would be about Sutton learning to Vibe™ with the help of Juice, Nagomi, and Mrs. Silk (who would probably need a first name at some point….). (Where is York at this point? Can he visit?? Actually that’s probably more angst than I’m prepared to deal with.) (ALSO re: Mrs. Silk’s house being right where Gomi and Sutton washed up, maybe her house is where new/traded players always show up, and she built her house there bc of how often Gomi gets traded, so she’d always be the first person to see her when she shows up??) Anyways, Sutton has to learn how to be a person on her own, and also how to chill the fuck out. If this follows her through the end of the siesta it’d probably involve her having some kind of culture shock going from hypercompetitive, structured crab life to the fridays Literally Just Hanging Out.]

#blaseball #blaseballwipamnesty #sutton dreamy #juice collins #nagomi mcdaniel #mrs silk #baltimore crabs #hawai'i fridays #jason writes

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albino-whumpee · 3 years

Text

An old thing 3

First Continued from here

Look, I´m embarrassed of how I came up with something as fucked up as this. I´m very sorry to the people who read the first version of this and I do hope you´re doing ok. It´s never my intention or objective to make anyone feel wrong with the things I do. There´s a reason my art style is soft. So I send anyone who felt uncomfortable about this, an apology. However, I wanna believe I can share this under the “No matter how rough and dark, stories need to be told” And well. I failed to process not ALL parts of the story need to be told. So here´s the censored version of it.

CW// public humilliation, Degrading language, Non Con, Dub Con, NS*W at times, dehumanization, past CSA mentioned and threatened/implied, grooming, electrocution, along, slavery, human trafficking, forced breeding, blood, whump of minors, attempted murder, manhandling, muzzles, creepy and explosive whumpers, physical and emotional abuse.

Everything will be tagged and if there´s tags to be added, tell me please.

Five months later, Layo didnt wanna touch Roahn as he was disgusted to touch pregnant women. Roahn had a big bump already. A medic had come over and had done analysis to her. Apparently she was expecting twins. Two boys. Shy was handcuffed in the other side of the cell, but he couldnt decide to be happy or horrified. His master, Dánae, looked beyond pleased.

“What if we keep one? We can educate him as if he was ours. But we gotta make sure he knows his place. And maybe when he’s older we could use him”

Layo looked delighted by her plan.

“What about the other?” He had asked her.

Danae reflected, looking at no point in particular and then said with a stone cold face “we will sell him just after he doesn’t need his mother’s milk anymore”

Listening to that conversation were the medic and the two slaves. Roahn started sobbing. Quietly almost unheard.

And Shy jerked on his restraints. He had a muzzle on, restricting his talking. But his eyes showed rage.

“What? The doggy feels sad for being separated from his pup? Dont make me laugh, Shy” Layo grinned “ahh, well its just ironic for you right?” He started, Shy picking up, jerked aggressively. His muscles getting tense. “Your twin brother… I had my eyes on you for quite a while. Its a shame you were split” Layo sighed Shy stood up pulling on his restraints. Danae was amused by his reaction. Shy was, well, shy. He never showed that aggressive part of himself. And certainly, Roahn was the most amused of them.

“What were you called at the club? The two stars? Oh! The twin stars! always with your star painted on your cheek. you looked adorable. You were like 12?”

Shy stopped revolving. The stage name having an impact on him.

“Quite the performance between you two and other people” Layo laughed “Then you were sold. Alone. To that old man, what was his name? He raped you often didnt he? Before dying he told me you would scream your brothers name: Ivan.”

Shy was silent again. His legs shaking.

“Ivan and Dimitri. The twin stars. Lovely names for just two slaves born from another slave and sold to do exactly the same…” Layo paused dramatically, eyes on him. “You went full circle didnt you, Dimitri?”.

Shy/Dimitri had lost it. If there was one thing that pushed all his buttons was his past. He pulled on his chains, so much he shattered them.

Layo and Danae were just a feet away from the cell. So before the man could even react Dimitri had already grabbed his white hair.

Danae screamed and went to help his husband but he was faster and slammed his head in the floor. Danae took out a teaser and pinched Shy, who brutally convulsed on the ground.

“SHY!” Roahn yelled in her chair as the doctor held her down. Trying to convince her it was too dangerous. She looked at the man’s face as he shook his head in a no. “Ill take care of this lady” the doctor told her. She was surprised by his kindness.

The man went to stop Danae from shocking his slave any longer.

“Please miss Dourson! Stop it! Miss Dourson you’re going to kill him!” The man said grabbing her.

“Shut up!” She shoved him away, the teaser flying off her hands.

“My love…” Layo said with his bloody nose “stop it”

Danae pulled him to her not minding the blood on her dress. “Dear! He was trying to kill you!”

“Yes…he was…” Layo said putting his head backwards. When the bleeding stopped he added “I loved his face” the man spat “rage…Ah~ what an adorable expression from the pup” Danae wanted to make some sense enter his head but was stopped before that “Ill teach him a lesson Dánae, leave it to me” he said in a smirk.

Later that night Roahn was on their mat, stressed out about Shy. He had been taken by two men. Unconscious and limp. Her pleas fell in deaf ears.

She massaged her bump, trying to sooth her anxiety.

The door slammed and Shy walked in with bruises on his face and shackled. He was with Layo who didnt have the decency to cover his dick.

He threw him to the ground, Shy barely having time to put his hands in front.

Layo kicked him in the back making him fall for good. He sat above him and grabbed him by the collar choking him a bit.

“Never forget you’re mine, Shy. If you want to live of course” he said letting his head hit the ground. He stood up grabbing him by the arm and threw him back to the cell.

“Dont you dare try to take off the shackles woman. Or you will have his corpse instead”

The man said going away.

Roahn looked at his body, and understood what had happened in those hours.

“Sh- Dimitri…?” Roahn held his face. He gave her a sad look. Roahn felt the cold metal of the shackles on her abdomen when she hugged him.

“Im sorry baby. Im sorry. Im so glad you’re back” she cried.

“C’mere” he said, Roahn stopped and Shy passed his linked arms to her back into a hug. “Dont cry, Roahn. Im ok” he said. His bruises were purple and enormous.

“We need to run away. We need to…”

“Yes we do. But we gotta wait. Can you wait?” He told her.

She doubted.

She didn’t want to wait.

But she said yes.

The twins were born. One after three minutes. Three minutes where Danae took the newborn on her arms.

Shy allowed it but in his heart he wanted to kill her.

The second baby was put into his arms. He saw him and started crying. He showed him to Roahn. And told her,

“For them. Soon”

—

Destiny works in mysterious ways.

Their plan was to escape the week before Cal was put up for sale. Taking Kit and running away through the basements windows.

However the night was going down smoothly when suddenly, at the garden just beside the basement, one of the guards of the auction place beat Dimitri up and dragged them back with the baby twins on his coworkers arms.

Roahn was beaten up this time too.

When she woke up, Kit was with Danae screaming and crying loudly, as Dimitri was receiving a CPR. He came back to life but the medic guarded him for two months.

During this time, Cal was sold.

Layo told her how much.

50,000 euros.

That was how much their baby was worth.

During those nights, Roahn mourned her son. She wasnt allowed to see Kit. Or Dimitri.

She was alone. And she was desperate.

When Dimitri healed and a few scars were added to his face, he came back to her. And they hugged for their children had been stripped away from them.

But he promised this wouldn’t happen again. This time they would think it through.

And they would be free.

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sixtyeightdays · 4 years

Note

Timinette social media or timinette with being underappreciated?

i am so sorry this took so long but i hope you like this! :)

i kind of strayed off topic a little and its a little mess so im sorry for that but i hope this is okay

this will have some bruce bashing so uh yeah

theres also tim and jason brotherly bonding because i am a sucker for brotherly bonding fics.

also, tim, mari, chloe (basically the parisian folks) are 16. jason is 19, dick is 23, and damian 13.

Timothy Drake Wayne had had his issues with his own self worth before.

Unlike everyone else in the family, he hadn’t been born into the family, or even been chosen to be part of it. This did sometimes result in a severe drop in Tim’s confidence levels, but he always managed to bring it back up.

Eventually, Tim found that the best way to deal with it was just to accept it. Not act out on it or anything. No, it was best to just accept it and be on his way.

At first, he had fought the unwanted thoughts invading his head, but appointing him as CEO of Wayne Enterprises had been the final straw that broke the camel’s back.

If they didn’t want me in the family, why would they make me CEO of Wayne Enterprises? Tim thought.

But then it pushed itself into Tim’s mind.

Because they don’t want you at the manor.

Tim shoved the thought away and shook his head, looking out the plane window.

Just.. accept it. There’s nothing he could to but accept it. He had no one to talk to either.

Damian would probably jeer at him and call him a weakling. Tim didn’t really need that. Bratty little 13 year old, that one. Besides, Damian wouldn’t care about it anyway, probably just tattle on him in hopes of getting Red Robin benched permanently.

He had contemplated talking to Dick about it for a while. After all, Dick was the ever so helpful Golden Boy. But then he decided against it. Of everyone in the family, Tim would never expect Dick of all people to understand issues with self worth. Dick was told very often that he was loved, wanted. Dick would probably tell Bruce anyway, and that was the last thing Tim wanted.

Jason.. well he was busy. He was always busy. Regardless of how his and Jason’s relationship had drastically improved, he wasn’t ready to open up about this. Don’t get him wrong, Tim was glad that he and his old hero had started to make amends, and now Jason had barely any qualms in calling Tim his brother, and that he could call him whenever he wanted. It made a rush of warmth erupt in his chest whenever he heard it.

But, he just didn’t feel ready to talk to him about it. To anyone about it.

Now, it was Monday morning and he was on his way to Paris in the Wayne company jet, because some rich designer named Gabriel Agreste requested some sort of business partnership.

There was also a designer called MDC that Tim was very interested in meeting. He was a huge fan of her work. He had checked out her website and was pleasantly surprised by the quality of her work, especially since she had no employees and made everything herself.

The fact that she was Jagged Stone’s honorary niece had also contributed to Tim wanting to commission a MDC original.

He had contacted her a before the plane left, and lucky for him, she had decided to meet him at his hotel on Thursday after lunch to discuss and take measurements

It was partially why when Bruce asked him to go to Paris, he didn’t fuss. He didn’t even protest about how being in Paris would affect Red Robin’s patrol. He had just nodded and left.

It had been a very last minute decision, and he hadn’t even had time to tell Jason about it. He had left a few hours after Bruce told him about it.

Tim sighed, leaning his head against the cool window of the plane, taking a sip from the coffee mug he held in his hands.

He admittedly zoned out for the rest of the journey, but in his defense, there was only an hour left on that flight anyway.

Stepping off the plane with his baggage, he made his way to the exits and after checking out of the airport, hailed a cab to bring him to his hotel, Le Grande Paris.

He may or may not have also zoned out on his 15 minute long ride to the hotel. Tim felt bad for the very nice taxi driver whom he had ignored, and gave him a very generous tip. After all, it wasn’t like he needed the money.

Judging from the wide eyed and awed glance the driver shot him as he left, the driver appreciated it very much.

Walking into the hotel lobby, checking in and waiting for the room key to be given to him, Tim already knew he was going to turn down Gabriel’s offer.

His research had shown that Gabriel was a recluse and hadn’t left his house in years. His assistant, one Nathalie Sancouer went on appointments with him on a call. He was also seemingly cold to his only son, which didn’t fly well with Tim, especially since the son was the same age as him.

He was expected to finish more work in Paris, especially since there was no rogues to disrupt anything.

He was not expecting a petite bluenette to crash into him and change his outlook on life.

The girl who bumped into him blushed profusely and apologised while two blondes, a girl and a boy laughed behind her.

She shot the two a playfully stern look, narrowing her eyes. Her eyes had the same glint Selina had when she saw Bruce. Playful, yet deadly. It was amazing how fast the blondes shut up.

“I’m Tim.” He shook Marinette’s hand, slightly charmed by the blushing girl.

“I’m Marinette. Are you checking in? I can escort you to your room. I know this place like the back of my hand.”

Tim was startled. Marinette did not seem to have any idea that she was talking to CEO of WE. She was talking to him like he was Tim. Just Tim. He was intrigued by the girl. The way she said her sentence, she wasn’t boasting or showing off, she was stating a mere fact out of politeness and the kindness of her heart.

You don’t see that around much anymore, Tim mused. It was like a breath of fresh air.

He nodded in acceptance and showed her the room number on the key that he was given before she had bumped into him. Her eyes widened.

“Well, looks like you’re on the floor I was already going to. Chloe lives here. Her father runs the hotel, and all the penthouses are on the same floor.” Marinette waved her hand at the blonde girl who was laughing earlier.

The girl stuck out a hand. “My name’s Chloe, the pleasure’s all yours.”

Tim’s lips curved into a smile as he shook her hand. “I’m Tim.”

Chloe pointed to the boy next to her. “That’s Adrien.”

Tim recognised him. He was that Agreste boy. The son of Gabriel Agreste, who he was supposed to meet on Thursday. Tim vaguely wondered if Adrien was going to be there for the meeting.

Tim didn’t like it when people announced out loud that he was a Wayne. So he didn’t do that to Adrien. Tim just shook his hand with a smile. Adrien smiled back, and Tim could see that gratitude in his eyes.

Tim nodded and his mind drifted to Marinette. She seemed rather nice, and she didn’t seem like the type of person to take advantage of rich kids. He decided to ive her the benefit of the doubt. Obviously, Chloe and Adrien trusted her, so he was willing to be open minded about this.

Besides, on the unlikely chance that she was trying to suck up to rich kids, Tim could very easily sue her, or at the very least, scare her off.

Marinette, Chloe and Adrien took the lift up with him, the four falling into an easy banter. Tim was very glad he had become fluent in French a few months prior to going on this trip.

Once they reached the outside of Tim’s suite, however, Marinette turned to Tim.

“Do you, maybe wanna join us after you put your things down?”

Tim grinned. “Why, I’d love to.”

It was the right thing to do. The four of them had a blast, and Tim knew now more than ever that Marinette genuinely liked the company of the two blondes and that she wasn’t just using them. He didn’t think she was, but it didn’t hurt to check.

They had hung out together, from that afternoon to late in the night, to around 9 maybe? Tim wasn’t sure. Tim felt a warm rush of joy flow throughout his body. He couldn’t remember the last time he had hung out with anyone that weren’t using him for his money or weren’t his family.

The four had become really close and the three Parisians probably knew more about Tim that his whole family did put together at this point.

Tim couldn’t remember the last time he had let loose so freely.

It was funny how it worked. Tim didn’t know why, but he had the comforting feeling that they could be trusted. Sure, they hadn’t known him for long, but he felt a sense of comfort with them, more comfortable than he’d ever felt with Bruce, hell, more than even Alfred.

Tim didn’t tell them all of his secrets, obviously, Red Robin being one of them. But it was okay. Unlike Bruce, who would research and pry into his business, Chloe, Marinette and Adrien shrugged it off.

“We’re all entitled to our own secrets.” Marinette had told him.

It made Tim wonder what kind of secrets the three were keeping, but he brushed it off. If he didn’t have to spill his secrets, the three didn’t either.

Eventually, night fell, but only Adrien left. Tim had looked to Marinette questioningly, and she just shrugged.

“His dad needs him back. I told Maman I was staying over with Chlo tonight. It’s not a school night after all.” She shrugged.

It was funny how much Tim trusted the three. He trusted them more than he trusted Bruce, at this point. Even if the trust he had in Bruce wasn't much to go on, it was surprising how easily the ex-Robin trusted the Parisians. But then again, life worked in strange ways, and this may have one of its strangest yet.

But Tim didn't protest. He rather liked the Parisians and like he's said, he trusted them. And from the looks they all gave him throughout the day, fulling of laughter and openness, he knew without a doubt that they trusted him too.

Among all three Parisians, Tim had bonded with Marinette the most.

Firstly, while the three were a formidable trio, Chloe and Adrien, it seemed, were childhood friends. They were extremely comfortable around each other, and it wasn’t like they were trying to leave Marinette out. They included her in everything they could, but the noirette occasionally bowed out and let the two friends do their thing.

Secondly, Tim was pretty sure that the two didn’t normally have so much childhood games. He was pretty sure they were making some of them up on the spot.

If Tim didn’t know better, he’d say Adrien and Chloe were trying to set him and Marinette up.

Marinette. The amazing little bluenette that crashed into him and changed his outlook on life.

Yes, he had only known her for less than a day, but they just clicked.

Marinette had tried not to, but it was obvious that her self esteem was at an all-time low, much like his. When Tim had asked Chloe and Adrien why when Marinette was in the bathroom, they had filled him in on how a girl named Lila at their school was bullying her and spouting lies about her.

“How bad are her lies?” Tim questioned.

“She saved Jagged Stone’s kitten from a airplane runway.” Chloe said.

Tim spit out his coffee.

“She misses months of school to be in Achu to work with Prince Ali for Go Green campaigns.” Adrien continued.

Tim didn’t know Achu or Prince Ali very well, but he was pretty sure the prince only did Helping Children Campaigns. He took a sip of his coffee.

“Her latest one? I was dating Damian Wayne, but he and his brother fought over me and now I’m dating Timothy Drake, CEO of Wayne Enterprises!” Chloe said the last part in a nasally, simpering tone that was obviously meant to be Lila’s voice.

Tim choked. Lila was 16! Damian was 13! Tim mentally filed a reminder to sue this Lila girl. Also, his love life was rather pathetic. He hadn’t dated since Stephanie. Lila’d would probably do a better job going after Jason if he weren’t with Roy. Wait, no. Jason didn’t like psychopaths. Or maybe he did, Tim wasn’t too sure.

“That was pretty accurate.” Adrien looked slightly impressed.

Tim shuddered. What kind of sicko had a voice like that?

Marinette had come out of the bathroom at that point, and all three of them effectively shut up. She looked concerned and asked Tim if he was okay and why he was so pale.

He shook his head. “I’m cool, cool, cool.” He ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to be suave and Marinette laughed.

Tim’s expression softened at the melodic sound. Chloe and Adrien exchanged a look before smirking at Tim.

Marinette had subtly complimented him a lot over the span of a few hours, and Tim had felt his confidence level slowly rising. It made Marinette smile.

Tim had returned the favor, and by the end of the next day, he and Marinette had almost as many inside jokes as Adrien and Chloe did.

(Chloe had walked Adrien to the door, and Tim and Marinette had hid from Chloe in Tim’s suite, giggling at Chloe’s playful irateness.

Tim had a great time.

He had also managed to finish most of his work beforehand.

He, along with Chloe and Adrien, had gone to Marinette’s house on Wednesday, and the four of them had spent the whole day in a peaceful silence doing their work.

Chloe and Adrien had finished their school work early and had copied their work into Marinette’s workbook. Tim had smiled at the sight because he was rather happy that Marinette had friends who were willing to do this sort of thing for her.

Marinette had spent the whole day working on several commissions, sketching the designs and sewing them out. Tim had been shocked by how many different types of fabric the bluenette had in her closet. Chloe and Adrien had shot him a look that said “get used to it”.

Tim was pleasantly that no one had disturbed him while he was doing his work. they had all done their own work respectively, and even when they were done, like Chloe and Adrien, they had kept quiet and didn’t make any noise to disrupt Tim and Marinette, apart form their whispered chatter.

In Gotham, Tim would almost always be interrupted by rogue attacks or his brothers and father. It made it almost impossible to finish his work on time, and resulted in many overtimes and no sleep.

Marinette’s parents, a happy baker couple who’d persuaded Tim to call him Tom and Sabine instead of Mr and Mrs Dupain Cheng, had stocked them up with a steady supply of pastries and amazing coffee. It was probably expected, they did own a bakery after all.

Tim swore that the Dupain Chengs’ pastries could rival Alfred’s.

While Tim was looking at Marinette work, he was taken aback by her efficiency and quality of her sewing. Normally, one jacket would take a day to make, including handmade embroidery. Marinette had done it within two hours from scratch.

Tim was tempted to commission her, but it seemed that her plate was already full, so he didn’t. Either way, he had come to meet with Gabriel Agreste and possibly MDC.

When they were all done with their work, after spending practically the whole day in Marinette’s room from 9 in the morning to 6 in the evening, they decided to go get dinner.

Tom and Sabine bid them goodbye heartily before turning to their customers and pulling a tray out of the oven.

Tim had met Chloe and Adrien’s significant others. A rather cold girl named Kagami, and chill looking boy named Luka. (Tim thought that Kagami and Chloe, and Luka and Adrien suited each other and balanced out perfectly.)

Originally, Tim had thought that Luka was dating Marinette. After Luka had hugged Adrien, he had turned to Marinette and called her ‘his Melody’. It didn’t help that she called him ‘her Harmony’.

Tim totally did not feel jealous.

But then Marinette groaned and nudged Tim in the ribs. “I guess we’re fifth wheeling.”

“Aren’t you dating Luka?” He pointed to the green haired boy.

Chloe and Adrien clutched their stomachs, laughing, while Kagami and Luka smiled. “Nope. Mari-hime is single.’’ Tim swore the fencer stared into his soul.

Tim was not afraid to admit that Kagami scared him more than the Joker did. Okay, maybe the Joker was a far stretch. Killer Croc or Two-Face maybe.

Luka leaned down and gave Adrien a peck on the lips. The model blushed and Luka grinned, exposing two slightly sharp canines, much like a snake’s.

It was currently mid November, so it was pretty cold. But Tim didn’t see why Mari was wearing a layer of heattech, a long-sleeved sweatshirt, a hoodie, and her winter coat, plus her hat, earmuffs and gloves.

She looked like a puffy marshmallow. A very pink, cute marshmallow.

Luka had shot him a ‘it’s better not to ask’ look and Tim wisely kept quiet.

They had a great time at dinner. Tim and Mari had an amazing time. Tim wasn’t entirely sure about the others, he was too busy paying attention to Mari.

The crinkle of her eyes when she smiled, the red flush from the cold dusting over her freckles lightly, the bluebell colour of her eyes.

He didn’t notice the ‘he’s so whipped’ looks from everyone else. Luka shrugged.

“Well who doesn’t like Melody once they meet her?”

Everyone else shrugged. “Fair point.” Chloe muttered, burying her head in the crook of Kagami’s neck.

Suddenly, screams broke out from nearby. Marinette immediately ceased talking and whipped around to face her friends. Tim looked very confused at her actions but looked worriedly to where the screams were coming from.

Suddenly, the floor rumbled and they all looked up to see baby August, who had been akumatised into Gigantitan again.

Marinette, Chloe, Adrien, Luka and Kagami immediately herded Tim back to Mari’s house, where they hastily climbed up the stairs to the loft.

“Tim, stay here.” Kagami ordered.

“What is this?” Tim couldn’t help but ask.

“It’s an akuma attack.” Chloe shrugged, looking not at all fazed.

Actually, Tim noticed, none of them looked fazed in the slightest.

“This is maybe August’s 7th time getting akumatised?” Luka said. “He’s relatively harmless though. It happens a lot.”

“Wait, where’s Marinette and Adrien?” Tim questioned, suddenly noticing that they were missing.

Kagami, Luka and Adrien exchanged a glance. “They’ll be fine.” Chloe waved offhandedly, logging into Marinette’s computer to turn on the live news from Nadja Chamack.

“Don’t be bemused, it’s just the news!” A pink haired lady was standing abnormally close to where Gigantitan was. Tim felt slightly worried for her.

“I’m Nadja Chamack, and we’re here at another akuma attack. It seems to be just baby August, however, so don’t worry. Ladybug and Chat will be here soon enough!”

Tim was appalled at the lengths this woman was seemingly willing to go to to get the scoop.

Noticing his expression, Luka smiled. “Don’t worry, Tim. She’ll be fine.”

“How do you know that?” If Tim let this happen, he was very sure that Bruce would murder him for a) getting that lady killed b) not helping. “I have to help!”

Chloe pushed him back into the chair where he was attempting to rise. “Sit down.” She ordered.

Tim didn’t want to, but he was interrupted by Nadja speaking again.

“Ladybug and Chat Noir are on the scene!” The camera view zoomed into a pigtailed girl in red and black spandex with a blonde boy in a leather catsuit. Tim vaguely wondered if he was Selina’s kid.

Tim’s eyes almost fell out of his head when he saw the two of them run up the side of the Eiffel Tower, with no grappling hook, no vault, nothing, before flipping off of it like a well oiled machine.

It was obvious that the two trusted each other to a deadly extent. They worked like two parts of a whole piece.

August swatted Ladybug away with a wave of his hand, flinging her into the Eiffel Tower so hard it dented.

Panic seized Tim’s stomach when Nadja Chamack was trampled on by August, effectively crushing her. When August lifted his foot, Tim looked away.

Chloe, Kagami and Luka did not look fazed, and Tim wondered why, before standing up again. Chloe pushed him back down.

“She’ll be fine, relax. All of Paris have probably died at least, what, 9 times?” Kagami stated, crossing her arms. She levelled Tim with a steely glare and Tim cowered in his seat.

How did the League not know about this?

Suddenly, the person holding the camera cheered, as swarms of Ladybugs flew everywhere, fixing damages. Tim noted with relief that Nadja had reappeared in front of the camera, looking slightly confused but otherwise fine.

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” Tim staggered to the bathroom, and right when he was about to puke, two thuds landed behind him. Tim could see a green and pink light flash and he turned around to see what it was.

He was just in time to see Ladybug and Chat Noir detransform, leaving Adrien and Marinette, looking stunned.

That was it for Tim, he hurled.

And Marinette was there, brushing his hair out of his face and holding the back of his shirt so it wouldn’t get in the way. Adrien had edged out of the room, while an unfamiliar voice was chortling.

When Tim was done, he washed his mouth with shaky hands, and Marinette looked at him sympathetically and with a slight trace of fear. It was almost undetectable, but Tim had spent enough time with Cass to know when someone was scared, no matter how she tried to hide it.

Tim didn’t want Marinette to feel scared of him. He wanted her to feel safe around him. He shakily spun and engulfed her in his arms. Her body relaxed tremendously as she hugged him back.

He was taller than her by a only few inches, so Marinette’s head was comfortably buried in Tim’s chest. Tim was thankful that none of his vomit had gotten on his shirt.

“I like you, Mari. So, so much.” Tim confessed.

The bluenette he was holding wiggled in his arms, looking up at him with those beautiful eyes.

“I like you too, Tim.” Her quiet voice broke into Tim’s train of thoughts as he panicked.

“I know, you probably don’t like me back but-- wait, what? You like me too?” Tim knew his voice had cracked but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“I do.” Marinette confirmed, stepping on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

Tim’s face flushed and Mari giggled.

“Does that mean you wanna--?” Tim blushed even more.

“Yes.” Marinette was obviously enjoying the way Tim was suffering right now.

“So.. it’s official?” Tim asked hopefully, looping his hand with Marinette’s.

“It’s official.” She grinned.

Adrien had interrupted them at that point, and after Tim changed into one of Marinette’s designs, a black, long sleeved shirt with ladybugs at the side, she and Adrien had explained about the miraculouses.

Chloe, Kagami and Luka revealed that they were also miraculous holders, but they were temporary heroes, even if they got to keep the miraculous on hand.

Marinette and Adrien were joint Guardians of the Miraculous, and they were something called true holders. The Ladybug and Chat miraculous were two halves of a whole, Adrien had explained. He and Mari were also the only permanent miraculous users chosen by the previous guardian, while Chloe, Kagami and Luka were chosen by Marinette.

Tim was then introduced to the some of the kwamis (Pollen, Tikki, Plagg, Sass and Longg), who referred to Marinette and Adrien as Guardians.

Tikki referred to Marinette as Mari, Plagg referred to her as Pigtails. Tikki referred to Adrien as Adrien, and Plagg referred to him as ‘kid’. It didn’t take a genius to know who wore the pants in their relationship.

Then, Marinette and Tim’s newborn relationship was brought to light, and Tim was sufficiently scared from the shovel talks given by the Parisians, as well as the kwamis. Marinette had laughed at him, and he had pouted for the rest of the night.

“I wield the power of Destruction in my hands so if you hurt Pigtails, I’ll cataclysm you. I sank Atlantis, so don’t try me.” Plagg’d scornfully stated.

Marinette had berated him and told him that Plagg really needed to stop sounding so proud that he sunk Atlantis, while Tim went pale and was reminded of his secret.

“Uh. Guys? I have to tell you something.” Tim wrung his hands together nervously. “You know how in Gotham, there are vigilantes?”

They nodded.

“I’m.. one of them? I’m Red Robin.” Tim squeaked.

There was silence, but then everyone, bar Marinette and Kagami burst into laughter.

“Only you, Melody, could create a love square with only two people and still somehow fall in love with a superhero.”

Mari flushed and Tim looked confused. “Who..?”

Everyone pointed to Adrien. He shrugged.

“M’Lady and I are soulmates.” He winked, intertwining his and Marinette’s hands.

“But we’re platonic soulmates.” Adrien dramatically let go of Marinettte’s hand. “Adrien had a crush on Ladybug. Marinette had a crush on Adrien.” He explained further.

Realisation dawned on Tim and he fell back into Marinette’s lap as she groaned at the way Adrien worded it.

“You suck.” She deadpanned.

Adrien had the gall to grin at her. “I’m also the one you share a soul with.”

She rolled her eyes.

Everyone had a nice laugh, but they all fell asleep rather quickly. It had been an emotionally and physically exhausting day for all of them.

The next day was Tim’d meeting with Gabriel Agreste. Tim wasn’t sure if the others knew he was Bruce Wayne’s son, but he figured if they didn’t he may as well surprise them.

So Tim left a note for them, and left 15 minutes prior to the meeting at 9, leaving the his friends in Marinette’s room.

hey guys, i have a business meeting at 9. i’ll come back as soon as i’m done, which will be 10? latest. i’ll probably be back before you guys wake up. i hope i will. bye for now. see u mari <3 love, tim.

His friends. Tim’s heart warmed. This was the first time he had made friends that weren’t his family, or superhero buddies.

Tim arrived at Agreste Manor at 9 on the dot, ringing the doorbell. An electronic camera shot out from the wall and Tim jumped.

The person behind the camera opened the gate, and a buff man escorted him into the Manor, where Gabriel was waiting.

He was standing at the top of the steps, looking down at Tim. He inclined his head, and Tim followed the elder Agreste into his office.

The meeting went faster than expected. Tim had been expecting Gabriel to persuade him, but he had let Tim go. Instead of the half an hour meeting Tim was expecting,it was only twenty minutes.

Gabriel had offered a partnership with the Waynes in which he’d design for them, and they’d sponsor him. Tim had politely declined, and Gabriel looked slightly put out, waving to the buff man to escort him out.

Adrien had walked into the manor as soon as Tim reached the center of the room. Adrien stopped short.

“Tim? What are you doing here?”

Tim pointed to behind him, where Gabriel’s office was. “Business meeting.” He repeated, and waited for Adrien to connect the dots.

His eyes widened. “You’re Timothy Drake? CEO of Wayne Enterprises?”

Tim nodded. Adrien’s eyes widened before he smirked. “Have you told Mari?”

“I was gonna tell her today.”

“Nah, she has a meeting at like 2, with a client.”

Tim frowned, but then shrugged. “I’ll tell her before.” He decided. “I have a meeting at 2 too.”

Adrien nodded and smiled. “Treat her right.” He said, before entering his room.

Tim smiled, even after Adrien was out of sight. “I will.”

Tim had a few hours before his meeting with MDC. He made his way back to the bakery, where he was greeted with a peck on the cheek by Marinette.

“Chloe went back to the hotel, Harmony and Gami have school, and Adrien had to go home.” She beamed. So cute.

Marinette and Tim spent the few hours eating lunch in Mari’s room and watching Netflix, judging the shipping potential between the Brooklyn Nine Nine characters.

They had agreed that Teddy was boring and annoying, Jake and Amy were a power couple, and Rosa was a badass .

Marinette really liked Gina, Tim preferred Holt.

Soon, it was time for the meeting. Tim and Mari both had to go back to Le Grande Paris, so they opted to walk there together.

“Who are you meeting?” Tim asked curiously.

“Some CEO named Timothy Drake.” She replied.

Tim stopped. He turned to Marinette.

“Timothy Drake.” He repeated. Marinette gave him an odd look. “Do you know him?” She asked.

“You’re MDC?” Tim’s voice came out strangled and Marinette looked taken aback.

Understanding dawned on her and she stared at Tim. “You’re Timothy Drake?”

He only nodded.

They stared at each other for a minute but then burst out into laughter, causing a nearby mother on the phone to shoot them a nasty look.

After the initial shock wore off, the two had continued to the hotel. They were on the way, anyway, and they could always either visit Chloe or stay in Tim’s suite.

Marinette giggled as she worked, deftly taking Tim’s measurements.

“Normally this takes forever,” Tim remarked, peering over Marinette’s shoulder and watching in awe as she drew out the design for his suit.

Within minutes, it was done. Tim was amazed by it. It was a simple suit, but the colours she encorporated into it as well as the designs made Tim extremely happy. It managed to capture his essence, and look stylish at the same time.

She’d even drawn a design for the tie! (instead of blue, it’s red)

After about three hours of Marinette working in Tim’s suite (she had gone home and gotten the fabrics and used the sewing machine she always leaves in Chloe’s room), as well as Tim finishing his remaining paperwork for WE, the suit was done. Tim was awed by it.

The suit jacket was a nice, velvety maroon colour that was reminiscent of Tim’s Red Robin suit and Marinette’s Ladybug suit. The inside was a black colour, as another tribute to the colour schemes of Tim and Mari’s secret life.

The tie was the same deep red colour of the suit. What Tim loved the most about it, however, were the tiny coffee cups sewn on it. “A personal touch.” Marinette had said.

There was also the letter T embroidered on the back of the tie and the lapel of the suit right next to the MDC emblems.

“What do you think?” Marinette asked nervously.

“I love it!” Tim lifted Marinette up by the waist, spinning her in the air. She laughed with joy and he put her down but still in his arms.

He cupped his cheek and Marinette’s hand wrapped around his neck. Simultaneously, they leaned in and their lips met in a chaste kiss.

Marinette ran her free hand through Tim’s hair as Tim’s free hand pulled her closer to him by the waist.

Suddenly, the door burst open and they jumped apart.

It was Chloe, smirking wildly, her phone camera raised.

It didn’t take a genius to know what happened next.

Mari and Tim chased Chloe around the hotel to get her to delete the photo. Chloe crowed loudly that she was going to send the photo to Adrien, Luka and Kagami.

(Mari and Tim did catch her but Chloe had already sent the text.)

The six friends had a buttload of fun the next few days. Occasionally incorporating their work into the mix, Tim had never been so on time to hand in his paperwork.

On Saturday, a few hours before Tim was supposed to go to the airport to get on the Wayne private jet, the six were in Chloe’s room.

The only sound that could be heard was the faint chatter between Chloe and Kagami who were talking together, the soft strums of Luka on his guitar and Adrien next to him constantly dying while playing Subway Surfers and him raging not-so-quietly. Tim’s head was leaning on two pillows in Marinette’s lap, typing on his laptop which was propped up on his lap while Mari’s pencils scratched against the paper in her sketchbook.

It wasn’t exactly silence, but it was peaceful. An almost silence, if you would.

Until a phone blared to life.

Everyone jumped as the shrill sound of Tim’s ringtone pierced through the peaceful almost silence.

Tim cringed. “Sorry!” He called.

He swiped the accept button without looking to see who it was, mildly pissed off.

“What?” He snapped into the phone.

“TIMMY!” A familiar voice burst out. Marinette jumped and dropped her sketchbook on Tim’s face, glaring at the phone. Tim pulled the phone away from his ear, and put a finger to his mouth before pushing the speaker button.

“Tim? You okay?”

“Apart from you bursting my eardrums, I’m fine. What do you want, Jason?” Tim answered dryly. He wasn’t sure if his irritation could be heard through the phone but Jason picked it up.

“Not very nice to your favorite brother, now is it Timmy.” Tim could imagine Jason wagging a finger sarcastically in his face.

“Learned it from you, Jay. But seriously what do you want? I’m kinda busy.”

“You may wanna put your coffee cup down for this.”

Tim sighed and placed it on the floor.

“Now what?”

A bang was heard from outside and all of them, bar Tim and Mari (Tim was way too lazy to get out of Marinette’s comfortable lap, and she couldn’t get up with him in her lap) rushed to the door to see what was happening.

Some people had burst into Tim’s room across the hall.

Three guesses who.

“What are you doing, dumbasses?” Chloe’s exasperated voice rung out.

A man with a white tuft in hair was standing in the doorway turned around, phone in hand. He hung up on the call promptly.

“We were looking for our brother, Tim. The receptionist said he was in this room. Have you seen him?” An older man walked out of Tim’s room, with several others hot on his heels.

The shortest one was dark-haired and had green eyes, the other was a girl with chopped dark hair, an arm wrapped around a taller blonde girl’s waist. There was also a redhead in a wheelchair. The other two there were males, one was an near bald elderly, the other had blue eyes and dark hair and was rather tall.

That was six of them, Chloe noted. She and the others exchanged a look, debating whether or not to let them see Tim. After all, they could be lying and were kidnappers or something.

They obviously noticed the look. The tall one with blue eyes spoke. “You know him! Where is he? Did you kidnap him?”

Adrien choked trying to hold in his laughter. Luka patted him on the back calmly.

A tsk came from the inside of the room. Chloe looked back. Tim shrugged. It was her room, after all.

Chloe bit her lip, looking torn between letting them in or kicking them out. She looked to Kagami for help, and she nodded, but then inclined her head toward Chloe. Basically, ‘I think you should, Tim seems to know them. But he may not want to see them. Your call. Your room.’

The guy with the white tuft looked ready to barge in the room.

Chloe huffed and opened the door wider. She and the other stalked back to their seats with the echoing sound of ‘ridiculous, utterly ridiculous’. Everyone outside exchanged looks, and entered.

They were not expecting to see Tim in a girl’s lap, that was for sure.

Instead of the greeting they were expecting, Tim merely turned his head to look at them before huffing and returning his gaze to his laptop screen.

Marinette laid a hand protectively on Tim’s head and started running her fingers through his hair.

If they weren’t shocked before, they definitely were now. Their eyes practically bugged out of their head at the sight.

“Replacement?” Jason cautiously asked.

Tim huffed, much like Chloe, and Marinette ceased her ministrations. Tim whined, but Marinette levelled a glare at him and he sat up.

Marinette muttered softly, “I can see why your self confidence is so low.”

“Nah, Jason’s one of the nicer ones. It’s teasing.” Tim assured her. The girl only pouted and fell back into her seat, picking up Tim’s laptop to read what he was working on before Tim’s family rudely barged in.

Jason looked slightly touched.

Tim sighed and crossed his arms. “What are you guys doing here?” Chloe, Adrien, Kagami and Luka slowly inched around Mari and Tim. This did not go unnoticed by the Waynes.

“We came to visit you, Timbo!” The tall one said.

Tim pinched his nose. “That’s Dick. Barbara. Cassandra. Stephanie. Alfred. Bruce. Damian. Jason.” Tim pointed to each of them in turn.

Luka spoke up. “I’m Luka. That’s Adrien, Chloe, Kagami and Marinette.” Marinette shifted when her name was called, exposing the laptop screen to the Waynes. Their eyes widened when they saw the bold letters ‘Murders and Muggings: Patrol Recap’.

Dick coughed into his hand, jerking his head towards the computer. Tim rolled his eyes at Dick’s attempt at being subtle.

Jason and Stephanie snickered. Dick looked offended.

Dropping all pretence out the window, Tim deadpanned. “They know my secret. Didn’t tell them about yours, though they’ve probably figured it out already.”

“You should’ve told us beforehand, Timothy!” Bruce looked like he was a second away from yelling. A steely glare from Kagami stopped him from doing just that. Cass looked at her in approval.

Marinette bristled at Bruce’s tone, but did not move from her seat. This wasn’t her battle to fight-- it was Tim’s.

Bruce pinched the end of his nose. “I’m disappointed in you, Timothy.”

Despite knowing Bruce was going to say that, Tim winced. Jason looked pissed and opened his mouth to say something, but someone else beat him to it.

“How dare you.” Marinette’s quiet voice shook with fury as she stood up. Tim squeezed her hand and let go. Adrien, Luka, Kagami and Tim instantly surrounded Tim, forming a protective circle around him.

“How dare you. Tim is the most wonderful person I know. Other from the idiot I share a soul with, my Harmony, my Dragon and Queenie, he is the only person who is genuinely kind and caring. He is the sweetest person I know and if you think you can step into our turf and belittle my boyfriend, you have another thing coming.” Marinette snarled.

Adrien stood up, stepping forward to stand next to Marinette. “I’ve only known Tim for a few days, but he means a lot to all of us. Like Marinette said, you will not step into our turf and be rude to our friend.”

“You underestimate how much power we have here.” Kagami moved over to the other side of Marinette, eyes flashing.

Chloe stood next to her. “I can very easily kick you out of this hotel, out of Paris, even. Tim is my friend, and we will not stand here and let you talk shit about how he disappointed you.”

Luka stood up, moving next to Adrien. “Like we said, Tim means a lot to us. You have no idea how much he does for all of you. He deals with your stupid company paperwork, even though he’s only 16 and it should be your job. He spends more time helping you on patrol and fighting rogues than paperwork but you scold him because he can’t finish as much as you’d like?”

Marinette’s normally warm blue eyes that were so full of love were now completely devoid of emotion. “That isn’t parenting, Bruce. That’s toxic.” She spat out Bruce’s name with so much loathing and hate, that he unconsciously took a step back.

Tim was very touched. No one had ever done that for him before. No one had the guts to stand up to Bruce Wayne or Batman. His eyes watered and he hastily wiped them away.

Bruce’s eyes flashed, and he strode forward. “I think you underestimate my power.” He spread his arms. “I’m Bruce Wayne. I can kill your career in a heartbeat. I can make sure you are never hired by anyone, nor will you ever be able to make a name for yourself. I’ve almost died before. Damian and Jason have. We deal with things you guys can only dream of. Sure, your father may be the mayor of Paris, Chloe, but I can easily kick him off his position of power. Don’t fuck with us.”

Marinette’s eyes flashed with surprise at Bruce’s declaration that Jason and Damian have died. Ignoring Bruce, she turned to Adrien, who was squinting at Damian.

“Do you want to heal them of the Lazarus pits? We can, after all. We’re Creation and Destruction.” Marinette spoke in the Guardian language.

Adrien side eyed the Waynes and nodded. “Even if Bruce is a bitch, Jason and Damian don’t deserve to live like that.”

Marinette and Adrien looked behind them, past Tim, to where the Kwamis were hiding. Plagg and Tikki nodded. After all, they could always wipe the Waynes’ memories if they weren’t willing to keep it a secret. The Waynes didn’t know what they were saying. Jason stifled a laugh when Adrien caled Bruce a bitch, but the Waynes instantly went on guard at the sound of Jason and Damian’s names (since their names can’t be translated).

Marinette and Adrien turned back to Tim and the others folded, closing the gap that they had left, so no one could lip read or learn from their body language what they were about to do.

Marinette and Adrien walked a few steps back, a few steps in front of Tim but a few steps behind the others. They smiled reassuringly at Tim. They weren’t going to hurt Jason or Damian. Tim nodded. He trusted them.

Tikki and Plagg zipped over to them and phased into their joined hands. Adrien and Marinette smiled to each other closing their eyes. They channelled the Guardian energy, Creation energy and Destruction energy.

They lifted their raised hands, and as if on command, Chloe and Kagami stepped aside, allowing the green and pink swirling energy in their conjoined hands to shoot towards Jason and Damian. The beam split halfway, hitting both Jason and Damian.

They braced themselves for pain, but they didn’t feel anything. They looked around, and saw the energy. The green colour of it was one everyone instantly recognised as the Lazarus Pit madness.

They could do nothing but watch as more and more green colours was sucked out of Jason and Damian before swirling upwards and over their heads into a ball of green energy.

After what seemed like a lifetime, the green stopped escaping them, and Jason and Damian could feel an immediate relaxation of their feelings. It was like there was anger and negative emotions buried into a pit of their minds, but they didn’t notice that it was there until it was gone.

The green energy ball was now as as big as a bowling ball. It churned once, and started shrinking. Something was compressing it and forcing it into a smaller ball. With a sizzle, it split into two. A pink ball and a green ball, the sizes of an apple.

However, the green ball wasn’t the Lazarus color green. It was a warm green, the colour of emeralds. Despite that, within both the pink and green shell had a green ball, the toxic colour of the Lazarus pit inside. It swirled around in their respective prisons, but couldn’t break free.

The balls of energy slowly drifted towards where Marinette and Adrien were standing with serene looks on their faces.

The pink shell hovered in front of Marinette, while the green one hovered in front of Adrien. The pink and green encasing the Lazarus green broke apart, and the pink and green energy shells flew into their conjoined hands.

Marinette and Adrien opened their eyes. They weren’t eyes anymore, just glowing eye sockets. Marinette’s were pink, and Adrien’s were green. The same colour of the shells, the others realised.

Now what was left were the fizzling balls of the Lazarus pits, its toxic green giving off an eerie glow.

Marinette and Adrien held up their free palms, and the balls rested on their waiting hands.

They looked to each other and seemed to be communicating before the plunged the balls into their chests.

Their whole body glowed for a second before lifting the two up in the air. The Waynes, Luka, Kagami and Chloe jumped when they started talking.

“This hurts.” Marinette admitted. Her face did not show any kind of discomfort. Adrien grinned. “Yeah, it does.” His didn’t either.

They shared a laugh before the green and pink faded, and the two plummeted onto the carpeted floor. Just before they hit it, the green and pink glowed softly again, allowing the two to land gently on the floor, feet first.

The light faded completely and Marinette and Adrien collasped in the chaise behind them, unclasping their hands and panting slightly. Plagg and Tikki zoomed out of their hands as soon as they separated and didn’t even bother hiding.

They plopped themselves on their chosens’ heads and all four of them began to nap.

“Did they..?” Dick uttered in disbelief.

Jason and Damian could only nod.

“Lazarus. Gone?” Cass pressed.

They nodded again.

“Forever?” Bruce croaked.

“Yep.” Marinette’s exhausted voice came from the chaise. Everyone spun to look at her. Chloe ran to her room’s kitchen, bringing out some honey, cookies, camembert, chocolate and eggs.

The active kwamis zoomed out form their hiding spot and got to work on their food. Marinette tiredly pushed herself to her feet, stumbling. Tim caught her. Marinette smiled gratefully at him, and gently scooped Tikki off her head. She reached over and got Plagg too.

She nudged Tikki with her finger and placed her next to the cookies. She didn’t bother to wake Plagg up; he’d wake up as soon as he smelt camembert. She placed him down, next to Tikki and they woke up, lazily nibbling on their foods.

Mari let out a breathy sigh and swayed on her feet. She curled up next to Adrien and started to snore.

Dick frowned. If she was dating Tim, why was she so cozy with Adrien?

He moved to wake them up.

Suddenly, he stiffened and fell to the floor.

Pollen stood behind them, antennae still poised after stinging Dick. “No one wake the Guardians up.”

Muffled protests from Dick on the ground.

“They share a soul, Dick, being next to each other recharged them faster.” Tim explained.

“They what now?”

well yes thats it.

i kinda got sloppy at the end because i spent almost 8 hours on this, and its only 8k words. im kinda proud of it though lol

no there will probably not be a part two, although i may upload this on ao3

anyway i hope you liked this !! <3

#maribat #timinette #marinette dupain cheng #mari and adrien are joint guardians bc i want them to be #i strayed off topic im sorry #tim drake #batfam #mild bruce bashing #ml x dc #mlb x dc #ml x dcu #mlb x dcu #miraculous ladybug #dcu #no more lazarus nonsense yay

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hopelikethemoon · 4 years

Text

The Ranch (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: The Ranch Rating: PG-13 Length: 2700 Warnings: None Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set November 1998 in Laredo. Summary: Reader and Javier tell Chucho a secret.

@grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes@thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow@plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale @roxypeanut @snivellusim @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts@synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper@awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie @swhiskeys @lady-tano @beskar-droids @space-floozy @cable-kenobi @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes @findhimfives @pedrosdoll @frietiemeloen@arrowswithwifi @random066 @uncomicalhumour @heather-lynn @domino-oh-damn @cyarikaaa @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl @yabby-girl @xqueenofthecraziesx @punkass-potato @coredrive @pascalesque@theduchessofkirkcaldy @queenquazar @sabinemorans @buckstaposition @holkaskrosnou@yespolkadotkitty @fleetwoodmactshirt @seeking-a-great–perhaps @kochamcie @jaime1110

Chucho’s gaze flickered curiously between you and Javier before he turned his back to grab something from the kitchen cabinet, “You two have been acting awfully suspicious since you got here yesterday.”

“Really?” Javier leaned against the kitchen counter, looking towards you then. “Baby, you think we’ve been acting suspicious?”

You pressed your tongue to the inside of your cheek and chuckled, “Maybe.”

“Well, you were both awfully keen to get Josie and those girls off on a trail ride so you could ‘help me’ around the house.” Chucho chuckled, “If you’re planning on killing me, do it outside so there’s less of a mess.”

“We’re not fucking killing you, pops.” Javier snorted. “We have something to tell you. We just didn’t want everyone else around.”

Chucho turned to look at you, hands on his hips in a gesture that you recognized intimately from the younger Peña. “Well, out with it then.”

You touched the turquoise necklace that set against your chest, smiling fondly as you looked towards Javier then. “We got married.”

“Bullshit.” Chucho waved a hand. “What’s really going on?” He narrowed his eyes as he looked between the two of you again. Realization slowly passed over his features, “You’re telling the truth.”

“We got married in May.” You told him, biting down on your bottom lip as grinned.

“Six months ago?” Chucho swore under his breath. “You two are good at keeping secrets.”

Javier tucked his thumbs into his belt loops as he shrugged, “Can’t shake all those years of training.”

You stepped towards him and rested your cheek against his shoulder. “We didn’t want to make it into a thing.”

“I’m speechless,” Chucho admitted. “Never thought I’d live to see my son get married.”

“It took the right woman,” Javier admitted with a grin as he wrapped an arm around your waist. “We’re keeping this quiet. You’re the only person aside from our therapist that knows we tied the knot.”

“Guess I ought to be chuffed you decided I was worthy to be let in on the secret.” Chucho strolled around the kitchen island. “Why’s it a secret?”

Javier looked to you for the answer.

“You know I’m not the marrying type,” You had had long conversations with Chucho about that after the first time he prompted the topic. “But after everything that happened, we were on vacation and I realized… I wanted to marry him.”

“She proposed.” Javier pointed out, grinning at his father. “I did it pops, I got married.”

“I’m proud of you son,” Chucho said warmly, before he looked at you. “I always wanted a daughter. Figured I had the closest thing I’d get to one with you.” He shook his head, “And why aren’t you telling folks?”

“I just want it to be for us.” You admitted. “I don’t want anyone else involved in our relationship.”

Javier ran his hand down the length of your back reassuringly. “So consider yourself lucky, pops. You get to be privy to our little secret.”

“And no ring.” Chucho pointed out with an arched brow.

You laughed, taking the silver band you wore around your wrist off as Javier did the same with his ring. “We got the date engraved with the girl’s birthdays.”

Chucho adjusted his glasses as he examined the engravings, “Well, I’ll be damned.” He passed the ring back to Javier before he embraced his son. “Your mother would be proud of you, Javier. I’m proud of you.”

You smiled warmly as you watched Javier hug his old man back in return. “Javier was quite the blushing bride.” You teased, prompting Javier to flip you off.

“I never needed the two of you to get hitched,” Chucho said as he pulled back. “Anyone with eyes can see how much you two love each other, but I appreciate the principle of it. The tradition.”

Javier chuckled, “Now you can burn those old newspaper clippings from when you put my wedding announcement on page three.”

“Oh no,” He smirked. “I’m saving those for when you two have to clear this place out. I’ll be grinning down from heaven, laughing my ass off as you explain it all to your girls.”

“Now I want to see these wedding announcements.”

“It was 1970. No one wants to see that.”

“Oh God, I was nine.” You laughed, shaking your head. “What was so bad about it?”

“Javier had baby face and a long mane of hair back then.” Chucho gestured to a point just at his collarbone.

“You had long hair?” You covered your mouth as you snickered at that.

“And green plaid trousers,” Chucho told you, much to Javier’s ire.

“You’re not showing her those pictures,” Javier insisted, looping his arm around your waist as he steered you into his side.

“Like I said, you’ll find them one day.” Chucho winked at his son, before looking at you. “Congratulations. I’m glad you made an honest man out of him.”

You laughed, nudging Javier in the ribs. “I don’t know about that. Your son’s still my favorite jackass.”

He scratched at the back of his neck, “You’re not wrong about that.”

“Remind me that I have something for you,” Chucho told you. “Now that you’re officially part of the family.”

“Should I be worried?”

He shook his head, “Not at all.”

“Speaking of family,” You started, playing with the stone of your necklace. “Would you be willing to come for Christmas?”

“Doing something special?”

Javier cleared his throat, “Attempting to.”

Chucho’s brows rose upwards, “What are you two up to now?”

“I haven’t seen my brother since I was like nineteen,” You explained. “I’m thinking about inviting his family to our house for Christmas this year, but… it would mean a lot to me if everyone was there.”

“Monica and Nadia will be there,” Javier continued, curling his fingers around your hand. “We’re thinking about inviting the Murphys.”

Chucho nodded his head slowly as he stared at Javier with an unreadable expression. “You know, Javier… I always wanted the best for you, but I never could see where you’d go with your life. You’re as stubborn as a damn mule. I couldn’t guide you, outside of the occasional sage advice, but look at you now.”

You turned to look at Javier, squeezing his hand as you took in the sight of his flushed cheeks and misty eyes. He didn’t talk about it often, but you knew how much his father meant to him. He used to tell stories about Chucho when the three of you were on stakeouts or enjoying an evening out.

“Pops—“

“No, let me finish.” Chucho folded his arms across his chest and set Javier with a look, “I learned a long time ago, that I just had to let you do your own thing. It would all shake out in the end. Look at you now,” He shook his head. “Married with two girls — three if you take into account how much Monica looks up to the pair of you — and planning Christmas dinner with your extended family.l

You interlaced your fingers with his, rubbing your thumb over the back of Javier’s hand. You pressed your lips to his shoulder, tilting your head to watch the emotions play over his face.

“What? Did I render you speechless?” Chucho chuckled, grinning from ear-to-ear. “We ought to take advantage of this.”

Javier snorted, “Had to go and ruin the moment, didn’t you pops?” He released your hand and moved to give his father a second hug, holding him tight. “It means a lot that I’ve done something to earn your pride.”

“I’ve always been proud of you,” Chucho told him, sniffing a little. “You were a pain in my ass, but you were my pain in the ass.”

You rolled your eyes, “He certainly is a pain in the ass.”

“And you married him,” Chucho grinned at you, moving to pull you into a hug. “You did good, chica.”

“He’s the best person I know.” You whispered to his father as he hugged him back.

“He’s alright,” He chuckled as he pulled back.

The back door opened just then with Josie calling out they were back.

“After dinner, I’ll get you what I mentioned.” Chucho told you as he moved back to the opposite side of the kitchen, making himself look busy.

“How was the trail ride?” You questioned as Monica herded Josie into the kitchen, with Nadia behind her.

“We got about a mile out,” Monica explained as she shed her jacket and draped it over the back of a chair. “But someone had to come back.”

“I had to go potty,” Josie told you, before she darted down the hallway to the bathroom.

“I asked her twice if she’d gone to the bathroom before we left,” Nadia remarked as she moved to open the fridge and grab the pitcher of lemonade out of it. “She assured me she had.”

“She’s not great at that.” You admitted, “We’re working on it.”

“How many times did we stop on the way here?” Monica pointed out, before narrowing her eyes as she looked between you and Javier. “Why do you two look weird?”

“We don’t look weird,” You insisted, a little too quickly.

Javier, on the other hand, did not handle the most minuscule amount of pressure. “We were telling my pops that I finally smoked a joint.”

Chucho tried to mask his surprise with amusement.

You raised your brows as you turned to stare at Javier. And he’d made you promise to take that to the grave!

“You did what?” Nadia gave him a look. “You owe me ten bucks, babe.” She told Monica, snapping her fingers.

“You made a bet?” Javier scoffed, “Monica, how could you?”

“Sorry.” She flashed him a sympathetic smile. “But you’re such an old grouch, I didn’t think it would ever happen.”

He muttered under his breath, “An old grouch.”

“She’s not wrong.” You teased, ruffling his hair. “He did it for me.” You informed them with a warm smile. “After everything with my mother, we both needed to unwind.”

“After the girls are asleep—“ Chucho cleared his throat, “The ones under five.” Monica and Nadia both laughed. “We’ll have to crack into my stash. See if you’re telling the truth.”

“Glad he finally listened to our advice,” Nadia said as she poured two glasses of lemonade for her and Monica. “How was it on your joints?”

Javier shrugged, “I didn’t really notice any pain, but we also fell asleep.”

“Best six hours of sleep.” You laughed, giving his arm three short squeezes before you peered down the hallway, “You okay in there JoJo?”

“Yes!”

“Are you playing with the foaming soap instead of going to the bathroom?”

There was a beat of silence. “... no?”

“Josie.”

“I’m coming!” Josie emerged from the bathroom and came bounding down the hallway, reeking of strawberry soap. “I washed my hands!”

“And everything else, it seems like.” Javier said as he swept her up into his arms and spun her a little, before depositing her back on the ground. “How’d you like riding on the trail?”

She pursed her lips thoughtfully, “I’m asking Santa for a pony!”

“Oh Lord.” You rolled your eyes.

“We don’t have room for a pony.”

“Yes we do!” Josie beamed, “Abuelo, can I have a pony? Please.”

“You’re welcome to ride any of my horses, sweetheart.” Chucho answered with a chuckle. “But you should listen to your parents.”

“A small pony?” Josie questioned, setting her sights on Javier once she knew she wasn’t getting the answers from her abuelo. “Daddddddy.”

“Your mother said no.”

“It’s true.” You slapped him in the leg. “Your father also said no.”

Josie pouted dramatically, “But I want one.”

“How about lessons?” You crouched down to her height. “And then when you’re older, we can see.”

“I’m older now.”

“Josefína.”

She stomped her foot, pouting still. “Come on Stevie.” Josie said as she clapped her hands together to get the dog’s attention.

“Please don’t wake your sister up.” You warned her, standing back up.

“I won’t, mommy.”

“I give it five minutes.” Javier said with a shake of his head.

“So you really smoked a blunt,” Monica chuckled. “And to think, you acted like she had lost her mind for enjoying a hit now and then.”

Javier shrugged. “People change. Their opinions on things change.” He scratched at the back of his neck, sinking down into a chair at the table. “I’m not against trying it again,” He told his pops. “But discretion is key, alright?”

“Especially if I intend to start teaching too.” You remarked, moving to perch on Javier’s lap, leaning against him as he curled an arm around you.

“Are you really going to do it?” Monica questioned hopefully. “They’re going to love you.”

“Just one class,” You chewed on your bottom lip. “I’ve already met with the dean. They’re definitely interested in me. The article solidified it.”

“They wanted you before the article too, baby.” Javier kissed the back of your shoulder, “She’s gonna nail it.”

“What are you thinking about teaching?”

“An elective course geared around women going into government jobs. But I’d also encourage men to take the course to get a better understanding of what is happening around them. It’s easy to be complacent.”

You rested your hand over Javi’s at your waist, “It’s a boy’s club and I don’t see any chance of that changing in my lifetime. But at least I can equip the next generation with the tools to combat this shit.”

“The same thing is happening in the science field,” Nadia pointed out. “Look at the women who have worked at NASA and received little credit for their contributions.” She took a sip of lemonade. “And that’s a double-edged sword, because we all know why their names aren’t widely known.”

“It’s all institutionalized bullshit.” Javier remarked, “Best we can do is hope to usher in change.”

“Hey chica,” Chucho said, catching your attention. “I want to show you something.”

You slid off Javier’s lap and followed him down the hallway to where his bedroom was towards the back of the house.

“I never expected Javier to get married,” Chucho told you once you were out of earshot from everyone else. “And I knew Lorraine wasn’t the one for him, so I never bothered giving him this.”

You watched him as he opened his closet and proceeded to relocate several boxes, to get to what he was looking for.

“I’ll be honest, I never expected to get married.” You admitted with a shrug, “I didn’t need that to prove I loved him. But I knew he wanted to — even if he said otherwise.”

“I knew too,” Chucho said with a grin, before he resumed digging in his closet. “I tried to get him to take this when I brought that necklace for him. But he was adamant you’d leave him if he gave you a ring.”

“A ring?”

“Indeed.” Chucho turned around with a small red velvet box, faded and aged. “I won’t be offended if you choose to never wear it, but I’d like it passed down to the girls one day.” He opened the box, revealing a gold and platinum engagement ring with a diamond set in the center. “Worked my tail off making enough money to buy this for Sofía.” He shook his head slowly. “Didn’t get it to her until Javier was nearly a year old.”

“It’s beautiful.” You smiled at him. “I bet she loved it.”

“Wore it every day.” Chucho took your hand and placed the box in it. “She would’ve wanted you to have it.”

“Chucho—“

“You’re part of the family now, you’re going to have to learn to take my gifts.” He teased lightly.

You stared down at the ring, feeling a surge of emotions at the fact that Chucho was giving it to you. “It isn’t fair that you and Javi lost her.”

“No. But life isn’t fair. We’ve got to enjoy what we’re given. While we’ve got it.” He gave your cheek a pat, before he stepped past you. “Now tell me, is it true my son smoked pot?”

“He did!” You laughed, tucking the ring box into the pocket of your sweatshirt. “He was adorable.”

“Good for him.” Chucho chuckled. “Good for both of you.”

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal x reader

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thespianbooks · 4 years

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A Court of Nightmares and Starlight //Chapter 13//

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It didn't take much longer for Viviane and I to fully recover after Rhys and I arrived. The sentry who had led Rhys, and Kallias, to the lounging chamber had also informed his High Lord of our arrival. Thesan, always the gracious host at these summits, sent a handful of servants to attend Viviane and I—much to our mates' chagrin. The first time a maid had tried to bring us some tea, the males had bared their teeth and nearly sent the poor female running. Viviane and I quickly quelled their hostile mated instincts and after a full hour of rest, we were ready to join the other High Lords, as well as our allies in the Mortal Lands, in the meeting chamber.

Kallias and Viviane insisted they go ahead of us, instead of the four of us entering together; since Rhys and I had been the ones to call the summit early, they believed we should be the last to enter—so that we may announce our news, accept congratulations, and transition into the more solemn proceedings of our dispatch.

Rhys and I walked to the meeting chamber without the need of an escort; after a decade of summit's every spring, we knew our way around the High Lord of Dawn's palace. I chewed on my lip as we walked through the sun-stone halls, but as we grew closer Rhys stopped me in our path.

"You bow to no one." He reminded me, his violet eyes fierce as he adjusted the crown atop my head, and then cupped my face in his hands.

I nodded with a warm smile, taking a steadying breath as my hands came to rest on my stomach, covered by another maternity gown that Rhys had pulled from the collection his mother had made for me. This time it was made of multiple layers of a sparkling royal blue sheer voile fabric with capped lace sleeves, the skirts brushing along the floor delicately and a beautifully pleated sash resting just above the apex of my new rounded belly. There would certainly be no second guessing my condition, if my scent wasn't already indication enough.

After a couple more calming breaths, I threw my shoulders back and met Rhys's gaze, "I'm ready."

He grinned mischievously and placed a hand on the small of my back before leading me through the chamber doors, which was opened for us by sentries on the other side. I didn't falter as we entered the room, holding my chin up as everyone's eyes turned to me and Rhys. Before I could take in anyone's stare, I heard an excited gasp and turned to meet the striking blue eyes of Vassa, who rushed over to me and took my hands in hers.

"I knew it, I knew it!" She declared excitedly before moving a hand to my stomach, cooing at it happily.

I felt Rhys tense beside me, a low growl coming from deep in his throat, but the Mortal Queen didn't blunder. She had been around us long enough to learn that fae males were solicitous with their mates—in fact, being in a room surrounded by powerful beings had never intimidated her. She alone was just as powerful a being in her firebird form; a spell left unbroken, despite mine and Helion's best efforts.

"Oh congratulations! I'm so happy for you, and I can't believe it! There are two pregnant faeries in this room," she said proudly. "That is a rarity, isn't it?"

"Apparently not rare enough," came a gruff scoff.

It was then that I noticed Beron in the room, standing with his usual entourage of sons, and Eris off to the side—who quickly chided his father in the next breath.

"Certainly, you don't mean that Father. Afterall, Mother gave you plenty of sons." He said smoothly, serving Rhys and I a meaningful look as my mate moved closer to me.

He only scoffed again with a roll of his eyes, throwing back whatever drink he had in his hand.

"Well it looks like we all won this bet," came Helion's honeyed voice as he drifted over to Rhys and me.

I was grateful for the quick shift in conversation but had to send Rhys words of reassurance down the bond as his incensed gaze lingered on the High Lord of Autumn. He calmed as Helion approached his side, knowing that would be wiser than drawing up to his pregnant mate first.

"Though I'll admit, it wasn't much of a bet since no one offered any opposition," he said as he shook Rhys's hand in congratulations.

"I was on the fence for a bit, until Kallias and Viviane entered the room and informed us that you two would be along," Tarquin admitted, Cressida—his cousin and Princess of Adriata, trailing at his side as they met with the rest of us.

He shook Rhys's hand next and turned to me, nodding with a warm smile. "You have my congratulations," he said.

Cressida grinned as she chimed in. "A youngling is indeed a blessing, I'm so excited for you both." She threw her arms around me in an embrace, causing Rhys to stiffen again as he made room for her, but he easily relaxed a beat later.

"Thank you both," I said before pulling back and nodding in acknowledgement at Helion as well.

"Thank you too, Helion, though I can't believe you were the one to come up with the bet."

"It was Mor's idea," Cassian jumped in. He, Azriel, Mor and Nesta had silently made their way over to us during the brief exchange with Beron; all placing themselves at a safe distance, just in case.

"Only because Helion wouldn't stop prodding me for information," Mor said with a roll of her eyes.

I saw Helion waggle a mischievous brow at her. "To be fair, I tried asking our host first, but he wouldn't budge," he said, throwing a look at Thesan.

The High Lord of Dawn shrugged, "Rhysand wrote to me in confidence, and I was already providing a space for Viviane to recover as well."

"Thank you for that," Kallias said, his hand also placed on his mate's back. Though with her center of gravity skewed thanks to her enormous belly, it seemed he was helping hold her up.

"Yes, I haven't had the chance to thank you yet. I went unconscious after we got here, and Kallias had to carry me to the room," Viviane offered sheepishly.

"I heard you weren't the only one," Thesan said, glancing at me.

I shrugged, "Creating a life takes its toll."

"Indeed, it does, though I'm glad you two are both okay now." He said, more so looking for reassurance that we were in fact faring better than we had upon our initial arrival.

I nodded, but before I could thank him, Beron huffed in exasperation. We all turned our attention to him as he crossed his arms over his chest. I also took note of Tamlin standing with one of his sentries—Hart, I remembered, on the other end of the reflection pool in the center of the room.

"Let's drop the niceties, shall we, and get to the root of this meeting?" the older male scowled, his terse gaze fixed on me. Rhys, along with Azriel and Cassian, shifted on his feet.

"You called us all here to announce a pregnancy? Well let me be the first of the rest of these fools to offer my objection," Beron growled.

I put a hand on my stomach protectively, "What a relief that we aren't seeking anyone's approval, Beron." I interjected, returning his glare with my own.

"You should be, considering the child you bear has the potential to inherit a kernel of my power. Of all our powers," He snarled.

My blood ran cold as he voiced my exact fears; the anxiety that the other High Lords wouldn't welcome the news of my child once they realized a drop of their abilities could pass onto him. I couldn't look at their reaction as Rhys pulled me closer to his side; his hand returning to the small of my back, bolstering me.

"We have no way of knowing if our child will inherit Feyre's powers," Rhys said smoothly, though his violet eyes simmered with a cool rage—those stars that normally sparkled now smoldered.

"Just like I had no way of knowing I would pass any of my power over during her resurrection. I won't make that mistake again," Beron spat.

"May I remind you, again, that you offered that kernel of power? I didn't take it by force, they are mine, and if my child should inherit them, then I will teach him to wield them as I see fit." I said fiercely, my voice as unwavering as I hoped my eyes were.

Though the words were directed at the High Lord of Autumn, I made sure to emphasize them enough for the others, in case there were any doubts on their end as well.

"We've been through this before," Thesan said, coming to stand at my other side, "When we all agreed to fight alongside them in the war. Surely, you can get past the chance of a youngling inheriting some of your powers?"

I nodded gratefully at Thesan, who returned it and took another step forward as my heart pounded at the approval in his words.

"I certainly can," Tarquin offered, and I saw Cressida nod as well, both aligning themselves with where Thesan stood.

Helion casually strolled over, an apathetic shrug to his shoulders. "I would be impressed to see if the child inherits any healing abilities. Perhaps the youngling could be the one to break the Mortal Queen's curse, since its mother nor I can seem to," he said with a wink at me and then at Vassa, who had fallen in step beside Mor—flanked behind Rhysand and I, along with the others.

It was then that I realized they had formed a line in front of me, standing in the space between Beron and me. A show of their allegiance, and my heart swelled as my eyes burned in gratitude.

Like I said, my love, you are very well-liked. Perhaps even loved. Rhys said through the bond, squeezing my hip lightly.

Kallias moved to stand beside Rhys and me, holding onto Viviane's hand. "It would be interesting to see if our children would wield the same power. Perhaps there would be some healthy competition between them," he said.

Viviane smirked, "You mean a rivalry."

"You're all mad!" Beron snapped. He turned to Tamlin, who remained quiet, keeping his distance from the rest of us.

"You approve of all this?" he asked him.

I held my breath as Tamlin met my gaze, his eyes glancing between Rhys and me, then to my stomach. He was quiet for a few beats before turning back to Beron.

"I agreed to come and hear them out, not to hold some kind of debate over their child," He said simply.

Not necessarily a show of allegiance, but I was glad he wasn't snarling at me as he had when I confronted him at the Spring Court.

"I will not stand for it," Beron said, pure fury laced in his acrid tone. "It was one thing to agree to fight alongside one another in the war, but I never came to terms with you possessing my power," A sneer over at the other High Lords, "Nor will I. And neither will I accept some kind of Night Court abomination to-" his words were cut off as the tether that held back Azriel and Cassian snapped.

In a flash of wings, shadows and siphons flickering, the two Illyrians appeared before him—Cassian's fist landing on Beron's jaw as Azriel then caught him by his collar, snatching him up to meet his snarl.

"You will watch how you talk to my High Lady and how you refer to the youngling she carries, the heir to the Night Court." Azriel growled, his face inches from Beron's menacingly before he let go, causing the older male to land straight on his ass.

I squared my shoulders as Rhys's own preternatural darkness swirled in his shadows, our shadows, advancing a step forward while Beron shot back onto his feet—the other sons he brought along with him flanking at his sides. Eris then interjected, subtly moving between his father and Rhys.

"Father, we've had over a decade of peace since the war. Surely, we shouldn't break our alliance now over the chance that this youngling might inherit some of our courts power," He suggested.

"And what do you propose we do then, if he does inherit my power?" Beron snarled in reply.

Eris merely shrugged, eyes briefly glancing over to where Lucien stood before meeting his father again. "He wouldn't be the first one not of our bloodline to do so."

Before I could stop it, my jaw dropped, but I quickly covered my mouth—Rhys stiffened.

Did he just say what I think he said? Rhys asked through the bond.

How did he know? I questioned back, my eyes meeting his as the atmosphere in the room thickened.

Beron went rigid at his son's words, a confused look exchanged by his sons standing behind him.

"W-What...what are you talking about?" Lucien asked, breaking the silence that had befallen us.

My heart squeezed at Lucien's bewildered tone. He must have noticed Eris's look before he said the cursed words. I quickly scanned the room and noticed the Lady of the Autumn Court wasn't present—perhaps Eris's doing, and I wondered if he had actually planned to reveal his mother's centuries old secret. I hesitated as I turned my gaze over to the High Lord of Day and saw that the look on his face was that of confusion, though I saw the silent contention simmering in his eyes.

Don't say a word. Please. Rhys warned, subtly returning to my side—shielding me, and I saw Kallias do the same with Viviane. I wanted to protest, but with my condition hindering my powers, I knew there wasn't much I could do should things take a true turn for the worse.

"What are you talking about?" Lucien asked again, his voice brusque as he approached his eldest brother.

"Don't you say another word, Eris." Beron barked, finally snapping out of his shock.

Eris shrugged again, offering Lucien a half-hearted empathetic look. "Haven't you ever wondered why you stood apart from the rest of us?" He asked, unsympathetic.

"That's enough!" Beron growled again, drawing closer.

His movement caused Rhys and Kallias both to step in front of me and Viviane, their mated instincts calling them into action at the rising tension in the room. I stepped beside Viviane, who was far more vulnerable in her condition than my own.

Thesan cleared his throat, "Perhaps we should call it for the day and adjourn tomorrow morning," he offered.

"No," Beron spat, turning to Thesan and addressing the other High Lords, "If none of you will side with me, then perhaps I should take my power back on my own." He turned a vicious gaze to me, causing a feral and deep snarl from Rhysand's throat; his wings flaring wide as Cassian and Azriel appeared at his side—siphons glowing.

But it was Kallias who intervened on our behalf before Rhys could move. "Go back to the Autumn Court, Beron. If you're this adamantly opposed, then cut your ties and return to your homeland. While you still can," he said this with narrowed iced eyes.

"You dare threaten me?" Beron growled, baring his teeth.

Kallias's own menacing scowl matched the elder male, resolute. "You threaten our tenure of peace now and seeing as the rest of us will continue to ally with the Night Court, you are no longer welcome here."

Beron only continued to glare at the High Lord of Winter, unyielding as his eyes raked over the others. "You're all idiots. That child will be the very downfall of our courts, possessing each of our powers will only empower the Night Court," he threw a fervent snarl at me. "What's stopping them from using her and the child's power to their advantage? They could very well incite a new war, demolishing us-"

His speech was cut short as Azriel lunged once again. I saw truth-teller flash in his hands a second later and before I could open my mouth to protest, Beron froze as Cassian hauled him up—about to strike. Everyone turned to Rhysand, knowing he had a vice on the male's mind. His formidable gaze was honed on said male, violet eyes clouded as darkness seeped from his shadow and into the corners of the room.

I placed a gentle hand on his tense shoulder and saw the tightness in his jaw. I could see the struggle to hold himself back, fighting hard not to unleash himself on Beron. I caressed his mental shields, begging him to let me in—to soothe him and the instincts he wrestled with.

We're safe. I reminded him when he wouldn't let his guard down for me. No one is going to let him hurt me. You won't let him hurt me, or the baby. We're safe, Rhysand.

I saw the muscle in his jaw twitch as he eased whatever grip he held over Beron, though not entirely. The elder male gulped in air, breathing heavily as I realized Rhys had been choking the breath from within him. Cassian and Azriel each had an arm seized in their hands, waiting for a command from either me or Rhys.

"Let him go," I said.

They obeyed, but Rhys kept him detained. Eris cleared his throat, "I'll take my father and brothers back to the Autumn Court. If you'll still have me, I'll return alone tomorrow for the remainder of this summit. I've been attending these meetings for the last decade, and unlike my father," a grim glance at him, "I would like to uphold my end of the alliance."

I was initially surprised at his words, but a moment later I realized that this would be the start of his campaign to take over as High Lord of the Autumn Court.

We'll support it. We have to. Rhys said down the bond, and though his shoulders were still taut, and voice laced with anger, I knew he was right. I squeezed the hand I had on his shoulder in silent agreement.

I looked at the other High Lords, their entourages; at Vassa—with Jurian at her side, and at Lucien. All except him and Tamlin were poised at our sides, and it was then I realized they were waiting for our approval. This was our battle, and although they were ready to defend us; pounce if need be, they knew it was ultimately our decision.

I met Eris's amber eyes, narrowing mine as I stepped forward; standing opposite of him and looked over to where Beron stood, still fixed to his spot, his eyes raging.

"We'll allow it, but if you end up sharing your father's ideas, then the rest of us won't hesitate to convene and plot your downfall." I met Beron's stare again as I said the last of my sentence, making it clear who the threat was aimed at.

Rhys, Thesan, Tarquin, Helion, Kallias, and now even Tamlin stepped in behind me—Viviane and Cressida coming to stand at either side of me. All of us representing our courts, our commitment to one another.

"We are heralding in a new era, Beron," Viviane said as she faced the High Lord with me. "These younglings are being born into Prythian courts standing in alliance with one another, something that it hasn't been in centuries. We all urge you to reconsider."

My heart squeezed at her effort to appeal to Beron, knowing that he was already a pawn in the coup against our court. His actions thus far confirmed our earlier suspicions, but once he was gone then Rhys and I would be able to warn them all.

I felt Rhys's hand come to rest on my hip, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Kallias approach Viviane's side as well. The other High Lords, our mortal allies, and all of our entourages flanking behind us. I reached down to squeeze Rhys's hand, Viviane doing the same with Kallias, but I didn't get the chance to fully notice their exchange. In the second Rhys had released his hold on Beron's mind, I heard him mutter under his breath, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw that he shot out an arm—summoning a ball of fire directed straight for me and Viviane.

He was quick; too quick for anyone to register. All I could manage was a gasp, my eyes wide with terror as my surroundings seemed to slow, and that ball of fire hit an invisible force only inches away from our faces. It wasn't until after the last of the flames dissipated that I realized my hand had shot out in front of me as well—creating a shield of hardened air I hadn't summoned in years. My other hand trembled at my side, just shy of touching Viviane's large belly.

I was gasping for air, trembling and my ears roared with the sound of my blood rushing to my head. I barely noticed that the room around me had exploded into some kind of action as I dropped my guard. My ears continued ringing, my eyes stung, and the only thing I could hear was the muffled sound of my own panicked breathing—chaos continuing to erupt around me. I briefly saw wings, siphons, and Rhys's face before I noticed Beron hit the ground. No one had rushed to his aide.

He tried to kill me. Us. My baby. Viviane and her baby girl. My baby boy. My son.

I'm not safe.I'm not safe.I'm not safe.

I hadn't realized my eyes were closed until I felt gentle hands on either side of my face. Warm hands. Safe hands.

You are safe. You're okay, Feyre. Rhys pleaded with me, whether through the bond or aloud, or both.

Then, I heard the sound of sobbing, gulping breaths. My ears slowly stopped ringing and I realized it was my own panicked sobs I heard.

"Look at me, Feyre." A gentle command, Rhysand.

I finally opened my eyes, meeting the silver-lined violet eyes of my mate. Breathing became easier and I managed to stop whimpering; instead gripping his arms, his hands still holding either side of my face. I still couldn't register my surroundings, nor the others, but I heard their voices. The harsh timbre of the males seemed to be giving commands, checking in with one another; the females sounding more soothing as they did the same. Still, I never tore my eyes from Rhys's—not until I could breathe again.

Slowly, the room returned, and I dropped my head to Rhys's shoulder—overwhelmed and exhausted at the effort it took to summon my shield. I let him scoop me up as he crossed over to a lounge, but my eyes slipped shut as I allowed myself to fall unconscious in his arms.

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jazajas · 4 years

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okay so i finished love, victor a while ago and i saw some other reviews and thoughts about it here so now i've got a pretty good list on my thoughts and feelings.

tl;dr: it has some issues, yes, but im gonna hold out and hope it gets better later on because the same thing happened with the first few eps, i wasn't that into it but then it got good, and nothing is ever great with the first season, because at that point we're getting used to those characters.

⚠️caution: spoilers ahead (im on mobile, i cant get an under-the-cut)⚠️

1. while a leah on the offbeat movie would have been amazing movie sequel (even tho i havent read the book yet, im just here for the wlw content) i am kind of glad we got this instead. mostly because I've seen book series where one movie was good, so they decide to do the rest, turn out bad (hunger games? divergent? percy jackson? the hobbit?) because so much was cut from the book-to-first movie writing, that other scenes wouldn't make sense to future movies if they had those in while cutting others. however, i am sad that i didn't get to make the choice of deciding whether what was cut was wrong etc. about future movies, but i'll take what i can get.

2. LGBTQ+ POC as a lead! that's amazing! as a ace/bi lantina that's close to home (it also is great that victor's from texas and so is ya gorl) and even then it's a mixed latinx family! i think pilar mentioned that at least the grandmother left Colombia and i saw the Puerto Rican flag in victor's room. also the salazar's are definitely from small town texas, even without knowing the name. (church barbeques, the use of the words "such a diverse city" in regards to atlanta)

3. a lack of actual lgbtq+ main storylines (so far) is kind of sad for a show like this. i was getting serious bi/pan vibes (as a lot of other people) from victor from the beginning, and when it was implied that victor was actually gay (while great, not shaming) as it has been brought to my attention, there was a lot of looking at a lot of straight relationship problems (please let us know more about benji)- edit 6/18: upon further consideration, it very much is a show about questioning your sexuality, I'm speaking about the other straight relationship issues, not mia and Victor's, its just the first season.

4. let us talk about cheating for a sec. never okay, in any circumstance. i feel sorry for mia that she saw victor making out with benji and the fact that he was doing any of that in the first place. victor made a choice to lie about the espresso machine and then kissed benji at the hotel and then when benji was fighting with derek, basically confessed his love and mistakes, then proceeded to makeout with benji after he broke up with derek, he built that grave and now he must lie in it. i get having feelings for a guy when you are in a relationship with a girl, and not accepting yourself enough to end that relationship but you really want it to work so you can be "normal". really, he should have told mia after he got back from the trip tho. i get being in highschool and doing stupid stuff and making dumb decisions, but for a show aimed at teens i think we should also remind said teens to make good choices even if we have to lose some realism within the character choices.

4. pilar and her decisions based off her brother pissed me off. because i honestly think that if she'd kept her mouth shut about what she knew or confronted victor about it in the first place we could have avoided a LOT of mess. did she not learn from snooping around her mother's business about her relationships that going behind a person's back doesnt end well? i did, however, like the pilar/felix friendship and was really kind of hoping that they'd get together during their coffee hangout (although now im glad that didn't happen) because they had a deeper understanding of each other. same with wendy/felix, although they do seem to much alike to work out in the long run but i still feel bad for wendy.

5. i don't know how i feel about lake and andrew, as people separate from each other. both seem to be the way they are from their upbringing (not confirmed why andrew is such an ass, but if his comment about his dad is anything to go by i bet it's got something to do with attention) but andrew seems to be less, idk, superficial? like he turned down mia because he didn't want to be a rebound, he didn't out victor, he actually stood up to early teasing the other dudes in the lockerroom were doing at victor (with teasing of his own obviously but that interaction had him on my nice list until much later). lake? lake. i honestly don't have an opinion of her? not really. i mean after hanging out with pilar i was hoping felix wouldn't go back to lake. is her name laken? i feel like her full name is laken. but they also played the "im only like this because my mom is really superficial about stuff and i do like the geeky nice guy but appearances" to "actually screw the norms im gonna makeout with him infront of the whole student body". i honestly thought she was gonna be bi because she kept hitting on mia when she was helping set up for her "date" and "big night" and there was one point where i saw her face fall at something mia said in relation to her and idk i was hoping she'd be bi (i figured early on that victor/mia wasnt gonna work and was like "oh mia/lake would be cute" but now idk.

6. okay on to the "big night", i have one word. NO. i didn't like the peer pressure into having sex. i agreed with felix when he said "your body your choice" but im also disappointed that victor made out with mia and when lake was talking to felix after victor left he didn't try to stand up for victor.

7. on to age gaps because i hadn't really thought of this at first. we'll start with benji/derek: WHAT GRADE IS BENJI?! because that determines my thoughts. if he's a sophomore that meant that he and Derek started dating benji's freshman year and thats eugh, don't do that, don't care if its a gay couple that shouldn't be happening because the maturity of the two characters is DRASTICALLY different (this is also a reason i am not a fan of cmbyn) but that would explain why they were so rocky. hoping the event at the gay bar was open to anyone not just for drinking, but not liking that fact that not one of the adults with victor were like: hey, this is a 16 year old, that's kind of wack when that dude was hitting on victor. that made me question some stuff. although i figure it might be making up for the lack of a gay bar scene in love, simon. but even then, in svthsa it's a restaurant with a bar that some people go to just to drink at, it wasn't just a bar, simon could be there but should NOT have accepted drinks from college kids, not matter how attractive.

8. i loved how bram and simon and their friends helped victor out though. i like how bram was like: hey i know my friends are a lot so here's a gay basketball league becaue there's no one way to be gay. i like how Simon talked about needing help himself just to help victor and how he said his friends were cool with it because it's a community. i like of justin(?) mentioned how being what his parents wanted was putting on a mask and pretending, not him doing drag. my favorite lines from that ep are: "and before you ask my pronouns are they/them/theirs" "'they're all gay? even that guy? he's like [insert really tall number]' 'yeah. you should see him in heels'" "or in simon's case: really unathletic" "and also because bram said that if i wore [the jean jacket] one more time he'd burn it". also katya was there. and the group hug too!

9. the back hand homophobia in relation to family is sad, but realistic and i sincerely hope his parents are kind enough not to be too harsh on victor because of it. anything they say that isn't positive or supportive of victor is bad but i hope they realize that there is more to him than that and that they can come to terms with it because it's not always that hard to be a part of that community and super religious. i am biromantic and catholic. and while there are some things i wont agree on my mom with, i know that it's more of a strike against God for kicking out gay kids from families than it is to be gay, because those parents were given trust by GOD to love those kids no matter what, and be good parents. so in the end, the parents are wrong and harmful and in the case of christians against jesus's teachings to love everyone.

10. this is fan speculation but dont think simon/bram are going through a rough patch? i honestly think it'd be a little cruel to the characters to have on of their actors be producing but then not have that relationship stay. and while it's not set in stone and obviously things happen in the real world, we have no proof script wise about there being a rift. all we have are bad photoshopped ig photos and scenes where two characters are never standing next to each other probably beccaue schedules never link up correctly for minor characters. who knows, maybe nick robinson was filming for a movie where is does have an even more major role than victor's gay guru in a series about victor so his filming time was around that. im gonna keep hope that things are okay.

11. that being said: we need more mainstream wlw content, because someone said it earlier and it really does seem to be catering to straight girls. i'll admit i did freak out when benji played call me maybe which is something i associated with him and victor but then kissed a guy because who wouldn't? we get that serenade and sweetness and then it'a ripped from us. but i did mellow out. if i flipped later it was because victor was making dumb decisions and i had to give myself a moment of compsure before i continued.

in the end, i'd say that there is a lot of growth this series needs to go through, but i also know that some people just aren't going to like it and i get that. but i also know that sometimes the best of stories have rocky starts, nothing is ever perfect from the beginning. and besides, further seasons are on hold until we figure out this covid thing, which means that you bet they're gonna be looking at our feedback. they saw what we thought before, they can do it again

i really did like it but we need more ACTUAL lgbtq+ relationship stuff from this series and better decisions on what we are teaching the younger generations, as well as what we want to focus on and realism within characters. i'm giving it an 8/10, because there is always room for growth and i really hope we get better things out of this than what we have been given in season 2.

edit: someone mentioned it really seeming like it was meant for Disney+ and i felt that. also to anyone who reaches the tags agter reading ALL OF THIS: i am sorry

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weasleypogues · 4 years

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hurricanes (p.h.)

masterlist.

so this wasn’t a request because im just getting this page started but i wanted to show pope some love <3

you sat around on the beach with your friends to watch the sunset after a long day on the HMS pogue. this is what you loved most. you loved the serenity of the beach as the waves crashed in front of you, the sound of palm leaves rustling in the wind. you even didn’t mind the sound tourists and their big groups inhabiting the beach every summer. you felt connected to your best friends and felt like you were living your best life.

you initially met john b a couple of years back at the age of 10 at recess. at first, you were shy because a random boy just came up to you out of nowhere but you were glad he did. you wouldn’t change meeting him and forming this friend group for the entire universe, let alone the world.

you, (y/n), fell somewhere in the middle of the outer banks class system. you didn’t own two houses like most kooks but you definitely weren’t struggling like a lot of the pogues on the island. you were content and comfortable. no matter how many times john b claimed there was no in-between with pogues and kooks, he always said you were the exception.

“you guys wanna crash at mine tonight? if the hurricane is going to leave us helpless with no electricity i'd rather be with my best friends than alone while being helpless.” john b stated.

“ohh, i’m so down.” jj exclaimed. “no parent supervision and most likely no cops patrolling whatsoever? smoke and drink all we want.”

“you’re relentless jj. but i gotta ask my parents but i should be able to also.” pope said, rolling his eyes at jj.

“you gotta do what you gotta do, brother.” jj chuckled, proudly.

“kie? (y/n)?” john b inquired, glancing over to you and kiara sharing a small couch, your legs intertwined.

“you already know that i’m in...(y/n)?” kiara answered and then turned to you. you glanced up out of a quick zone-out and were met with everyone's eyes on you. you smiled quickly and awkwardly but nodded.

“perfect, we should probably stock up on food before it hits just in case so i’m probably going to head out.” john b said, standing up and fixing his shorts.

“on that note, i think i’m going to go home and pack a couple things, who knows what this storm is going to bring us.” you said, standing up as well. “anyone needs a ride anywhere?”

you ended up driving only kiara back home but waited with her while she packed her stuff.

“are you going to bring your surfboard to john b’s?” kiara asked as she rummaged through her t-shirt drawer.

“surfboard? are you crazy? those waves are going to be deadly,” you answered with your eyebrows furrowed. you weren’t that comfortable with your surfing in the first place because you learned so much later than the rest of the group but you were still average. but too average to take that risk during an actual hurricane.

“that’s what i said. depending on if jj is too stoned out of his mind or not, john b still convinced pope to join him. they’re crazy if they think i’m joining.” kiara stated with raised eyebrows. she knew this was a dumb idea but let them go on with their dumb antics. at least she told warned them prior so she could eventually say ‘i told you so’.

“pope’s surfing?” it wasn’t until you asked this that it hit you. your heart race slightly increased at the idea of pope getting hurt or worse during those waves. you guys always subtly flirted here and there but there was a no pogue-on-pogue macking rule. you admitted to yourself and kiara that you had a crush on him but nothing would ever happen.

seeing him at john b’s house with a button-down hawaiian shirt and sunglasses ready for a day on the boat always made you blush. seeing him just sip on beer at a kegger made you feel intrigued by him. he was intelligent and always had a way with words. he had common sense and was sensitive. it almost seemed impossible to not like him. or maybe it was the way his body glistened in the sunlight after you and the rest of the pogues hopped back on the boat after taking a dip in the marsh.

after packing her stuff up and packing your own clothes and saying goodbye to your parents, you were on your way back to john b’s. as you welcomed yourselves inside you saw john b, pope, and jj unpacking groceries.

“you guys didn’t bring your surfboard?” john b practically whined.

“i don’t have a death wish john b, at least not today. but pope...i’m surprised you do,” you responded, raising your eyebrows at pope as you waited for an answer. he glanced up from the back of cereal and canned corn with his big brown eyes and you felt like you could melt right then and there. you even felt like you were at a loss of breath.

“peer pressure at it’s finest.” pope answered with a small yet nervous chuckle. you watched the way his hands moved from the bags to the cabinets, with the few occasions of fixing his shirt or cracking his knuckles--a habit you noticed that he did quite often.

a couple seconds of zoning out led you to think. am i in these feelings deeper than i thought? because if i am, i gotta get out of them real fast.

after a night of smoking, drinking, and messing around you all fell asleep in the living room except for john b who found his way to his own bed.

your eyes opened up slowly and adjusted to the lighting in the house from the windows. it wasn’t necessarily bright outside but it was definitely somewhat daytime. you checked your surroundings and saw jj and kiara still fast asleep. john b’s door was open and you saw his room was empty from your spot on the couch. you also noticed pope wasn’t present either.

you felt your hands get somewhat sweaty and a lump in your throat form as you remembered that the guys must’ve gone out to surf. you weren’t sure if this was going to end well or not so that slight thought of an unfortunate occurrence made you feel nervous.

kiara shifted from her initial position into one that faced you and you saw her eyes flutter open.

“they went surfing, didn’t they?” kiara muttered with a tired, morning voice. you nodded and instinctively bit your thumb’s nail. it wasn’t until you heard branches hitting the side of the house was when you snapped out of it.

“they’ll be fine...don’t worry about your knight in shining armor.” jj said, groggily. you felt your face get hot and you looked at him quickly.

“what do you mean?” you answered, nervous that maybe kiara told him your secret. but she wouldn’t and you knew that but how else would he know?

“you know what i mean (y/n/n), you like pope and it’s so obvious.” jj slightly chuckled, rubbing his eyes. you looked to kiara quickly and she put her hands up defensively as if to say she didn’t spill anything. “i see the way you look at him and you zone out afterward in deep thought. i’m not stupid. plus he does the same to you.”

“yeah...i’m sure,” you responded, slightly embarrassed that maybe you weren’t so discreet with your feelings after all. if jj noticed, does that mean pope noticed also? if he noticed and liked you back, he would’ve made a move by now. right?

your thoughts were interrupted by the door opening aggressively and a wet and flustered john b and pope. initially you noticed their stressed and dripping-wet faces but quickly landed on pope’s hand covering a bloody gash on his forehead which made you jump off the couch in an instant.

“what the hell happened?” you asked, rushing to pope after grabbing a towel off the table in front of you.

“a big wave came and we were sure we had it but we both got pushed off. i fell to the side but he went headfirst into the tip of the board.” john b responded, searching for his first aid kit.

“remind me to never surf during a hurricane ever again.” pope stated, in hopes of making your worried state a little more at ease but you were too focused on cleaning the gash. pope felt his heart flutter at your determined and focused face taking the time to help him. he thought it was cute the way your eyebrows were furrowed together and you slightly bit the inside of your lip.

“i told you so.” you heard kiara say in a sing-song voice. you mentally laughed.

jj and john b knew that he had a crush on you. sometimes he felt like you had the same feelings for him but psyched himself out that it was just you being your friendly and charming self.

it wasn’t long until john b brought the first aid kit out and you were quick to clean up the gash and bandage it up.

“thank you, (y/n). i really do appreciate this y’know.” pope said as he confidently brought his hand to your hand that was keeping his head still while the other fixed the gash. you paused and your eyes diverted to his hand on yours and you could feel the blush creeping from your neck to your cheeks.

“anything for you, pope.” you responded with and placed a quick peck on his cheek.

even though every muscle and thought in the back of his mind were telling him not to in fear of what may happen, the devil on his shoulder told him to grab your face and pull you in for a kiss. thankfully enough, you kissed back as passionately as him as your hand stayed to cup his face. you could feel him smile and almost melt at your touch.

“thank god you made the first move,” you said through the kiss, slightly giggling. he chuckled back and pulled you in again.

“get a room love birds.” jj yelled out while covering his face with a pillow. john b covered his own eyes and kiara’s eyes with his hands as a joke while pope flipped them off, still engaged with the kiss.

who cares if you two broke the rule.

#obx writings #outer banks #pope heyward imagines #pope heyward #jj maybank #john b #kiara imagines #pogue writings #rafe cameron imagines #topper imagines #sarah cameron imagines #obx imagines #obx x reader #pope x reader

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cmi-miu · 3 years

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Ya’aburnee - Chapter 7 (Seventeen Soulmate AU)

Soulmate AU: The last words your soulmate says to you are the words tattooed on your wrist.

Pairing: SoonWoo, JiHan, SeokHao

Title: Ya'aburnee (arabic): yak-BER-nee (n.) lit. "you bury me"; the hope that your lover or beloved will outlive you as to spare yourself the pain of living beyond that person.

Chapter Summary: This is a JiHan chapter so obviously it’s plain and simple fluff sprinkled with a little bit of Hosh and Josh sibling love.

Jisoo eyes the Skype icon that keeps vibrating as he curses the day Soonyoung was born. He had clearly told his brother he’d come online today and lo and behold! Soonyoung was nowhere to be seen. He’s this close to disowning the man when the great Mr Kwon Soonyoung finally decides to answer the call.

“I know I am late but please understand I couldn’t find my laptop charger!” Soonyoung speaks a mile a minute to avoid Jisoo’s chiding. When he sees the man’s frown only double in size, he brings out his hands in front of him and waves them about exclaiming, “I’m sorry im sorry im sorry!”

At brother’s pleading expression and pouting lips, Jisoo doesn’t stand a chance. And it seems Soonyoung knows because he’s part snickering as he apologises. “Urgh!” Jisoo screams, pulling at his hair comically and had Soonyoung not been begging the man for forgiveness, he would’ve guffawed at his expression. “I hate when you make that face!”

Soonyoung knows now that he’s in the clear so he snickers and exclaims, “love you too, Josh!” He shakes his head when Jisoo mock glares at him and raises an eye cheekily as he asks, “so? Where’s Jeonghan? I wanna meet him! Show me! Show me! Show me!”

Rolling his eyes and sighing Jisoo places his elbow on the table and his face in his palm, grouching, “he just went to the bathroom. We’d been waiting for half an hour.”

“I’m sorry,” Soonyoung whines, “I just got back from work. I’m exhausted.” The younger slams his head into his pillow making his tablet fall down. Propping it up by its side, Soonyoung continues looking at Jisoo with a wonky smile. It’s a different colour of Soonyoung and Jisoo can’t put a finger on it but something seems to have changed.

The elder chooses to voice his suspicious out with a tiny grin, “you seem content. Not happy, but content” Soonyoung laughs at his brother’s comment. The same old, crinkled eyes, hands on his mouth laughter. “Is it safe to assume you have a crush? Who is it? Your boss?”

Soonyoung’s expression sours at the words and he crinkles his nose funnyly, “my Boss is an old man, old man. And no,” Soonyoung shakes his head, his hair flopping, “I’m not crushing on anyone lately. I just had a good time last weekend with Wonwoo.”

Now Jisoo is very curious. Soonyoung having a good time is, in itself, a miracle ever since he forced himself into this marriage with Wonwoo. And to think that he’s had a good time with said husband? Jisoo absolutely has to know what’s that all about.

“Why? What’d you guys do?” Jisoo asks nonchalantly. Trying very hard to hide his curiosity about the matter.

“Nothing much,” Soonyoung shrugs, a small smile on his lips, “we watched some anime. Ate some ice cream. Talked a little.” Looking back into the tablet camera, Soonyoung continues to smile as he says, “we just had a good time.”

“Well,” the elder begins, “I’m glad you two are getting along.”

The man of the other end of the call coughs a little and his expression turns uncomfortable, as he tries to steal his gaze from his brother. “I wouldn’t exactly call it getting along…” Soonyoung licks his lips uneasily and tries to think of how to continue, “we’re back to ignoring each other again but I feel like I at least know something we have in common now. Besides being unhappy with our marriage.”

“Soonyoung…” Jisoo begins already at a loss for what to say next. He wants to comfort his brother somehow, but he already knows he can’t. “Soonyoung, I know you’re scared to try but sometimes, you have to be the one to initiate any kind of friction between each other. It’s frustrating, I know.” The elder huffs a sigh and shakes his head as he continues, “I know it’s frustrating to not know if you’ll make it. It’s infuriating when you have to start all the conversations. When you don’t have a choice. But Wonwoo is a very nice guy. He’s just a little shy.”

“I know, Josh,” Soonyoung mumbles, turning on his side to stare up at the ceiling. “it’s just… after Mingyu… I’m not ready. In fact, I don’t want to. I’m happy with us just being friendly strangers. I don’t want to lose the one thing that is set in stone for me. He’s not… he’s not Mingyu.”

And the elder knows that’s not all of Soonyoung’s worries. No one would know better than him how much Soonyoung has suffered at the hands of fate just to end up in an unhappy marriage with a heartbroken man. From being rejected to having to reject so many.

To having to hear those dreaded words before saying goodbye to his soulmate.

Soonyoung has suffered so many heartbreaks in his small twenty-seven years of life that Jisoo can’t even fathom how the man smiles at him every time they speak.

He remembers that one time when Soonyoung was sixteen and had confessed to a girl that he liked her, only to be rudely rejected because she was already in love with someone else.

When Soonyoung was eighteen and had gone out with another for two days before he was dumped because the words on his wrist scared her (as if it was Soonyoung that would cause her death).

And that time when Soonyoung was twenty-one, his boyfriend had dumped him because he was so sure he had found his soulmate.

Or when Soonyoung was only twenty-five when his third boyfriend died after saying goodbye. When the words on Soonyoung’s left hand wrist glowed golden as his soulmate boarded the plane.

Yep. Life didn’t deal Soonyoung the best cards and Jisoo was no stranger to this. But, seeing his brother smiling quietly, despite his worried eyes staring back at him, he couldn’t help but wonder if Soonyoung had finally found a person to call his own now.

“I think Wonwoo’s the one, Soonyoung,” Jisoo mutters, smiling quietly at his brother. “Try and get to know him. Try and be the sixteen-year-old who randomly confessed to a girl because he liked her stockings.”

Soonyoung laughs out loud at the mention of Minyeo, his high school crush, and relishes in his attempt at a proper confession. He’d always been a little too impulsive when it came to feelings and even, he found it disturbing sometimes.

“Let’s keep sixteen-year-old me out of the conversation,” Soonyoung sniggers, “and talk about Mr Yoon Jeonghan. Where is he?”

“Oh! Right!” Jisoo grins, turning his head to the bathroom and screaming, “Jeonghan! Come out now or I’m bringing the phone into the shower!”

Soonyoung sniggers at his dramatic brother and watches Jisoo smile when the sound of the bathroom door opening makes him look up.

“Soonyoung?” Wonwoo calls him then. Soonyoung turns to find him peeping into the room as if unsure if he’s allowed to enter his home office. Soonyoung smiles at his husband, lazily waving him over as he points at his tablet.

“Jisoo’s online!” He exclaims, smirking giddily when Wonwoo rushes over to his side and pushes him out of the screen to say hello to his brother.

“Josh!” Wonwoo waves at him, smiling happily. “How’s LA?”

“Wonwoo! LA is amazing! The weather here is to die for! You two should’ve been here!”

“Maybe next time,” Wonwoo smiles, shooting a glance at Soonyoung who looks just as baffled by the declaration as Jisoo does. “Where’s that mysterious boyfriend of yours that Soonyoung’s always talking about?”

Jisoo starts speaking but before he can even get a word out the camera shakes violently and his voice turns staticky.

“Is he out now?” Soonyoung yells into his headphones, but he can't make out anything his brother is saying. Annoyance discolours Jisoo’s face and then the camera turns to show a handsome young man waving at Soonyoung and Wonwoo.

They laugh at the goofy smile on the man’s face. They already know it’s Jeonghan, Jisoo’s boyfriend, acting cheeky in the video call, completely ignoring his angry boyfriend in the background.

The camera shakes a little and Jeonghan’s face comes into view. There are soap suds under his chin, and he looks every bit of that goof Jisoo had said he was. And Soonyoung giggles at the man waving a soapy hand at him, supposedly speaking. But the audio is lost.

Jisoo jumps up behind his boyfriend and seems to be yelling at the man, pointing at the phone and Soonyoung is severely confused but everything that’s going on screen is hilarious. Even without the audio, both Soonyoung and Wonwoo can tell that Jeonghan probably did something while picking up the phone that made the audio cut and now Jisoo was yelling at the taller man. Hands on his hips and a full-on mommy expression of his face.

Jeonghan pouting like a little boy with his head down is the cherry on top and Soonyoung finds himself laughing till his cheeks hurt.

But that’s not even the best part of the call. It’s when Wonwoo carelessly leans on his shoulder while laughing like a madman at his brother.

It’s the pleasant weight on his shoulders that Wonwoo is generous enough to grace him with that makes the night wonderful.

Soonyoung cuts the call after a while when Jisoo texts him that Jeonghan got water into the speakers and now the audio doesn’t work anymore.

They end up laughing for another hour at his brother’s obvious annoyance.

#caratwritersclub #carats #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fanfic rec #seventeen soulmate au #svt #svt fanfic #svt otp #svt soulmate au #svt angst #jihan #jihan fluff #jihan boyfriends #ya'aburnee #dunyazatde

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sammansonn · 4 years

Text

My thoughts on the 100 7x05

right off the bat Octavia reminds us that she is a Bad Bitch (as if we could’ve forgotten)

when the crazy fanatic said that they'd keep dying until russell was freed i was so concerned because my immediate response was "cool let them die and problem solved” which is maybe Not the best route to go (even if murphy felt the same way)

i love emori and murphy so much, like i’ve always liked them and all but i feel like i only Really started liking emori last season and this season i just Love Her

watching octavia getting questioned/tortured fucking Hurted

like when “redemption” echoed???? i Cried

i just love octavia and am so glad she got those 10 years of being a happy family, and i genuinely got emotional watching her and bellamy at the end

this levitt dude really be the #1 Octavia Stan and im HERE FOR IT

i also loved him using “go float yourself” a real Icon

i just really loved him in general and i hope he doesn’t get killed i was really worried levitt was gonna get caught for helping them and i just want him to make it out alive and to the good side (the good side being our main characters even though, are they’re really any good guys???)

he also has strong gabriel energy in the fact that they both love octavia and i love them both and they’re both pretty nerdy

obviously i don’t Really want octavia to get in a relationship because girl needs to Heal and just be with her fam of Bell, Clarke, Hope, Madi, and Dioyza (also i hope Dioyza’s alive, we haven’t seen her at All and im kinda Concerned) But if they were gonna put Octavia in a relationship both Gabriel and levitt are just Waiting there, ready to love octavia Forever

i just really liked Levitt (also he looks like raphael from shadowhunters)

gabriel just sighing as hope and echo keeping killing people is a Mood

i’m So Intrigued as to why clarke is so special to these people like i know shes Amazing and a Goddess but a key??? what does that Mean??

also the actor who plays Andor also played damien dahrk of arrow he’s just Real Good at playing villains he just looks so punchable and i really commend that actor on that

okay indra was kinda pissing me off recently but i’m So Glad she figured out sheidheda is back becuase it was really Concerning me

the whole time thing of this season really Fucks with my head (not in a bad way tho), its just so strange to think that in the span of a week hope went back to sanctum, stabbed octavia, lived on skyring with gabriel and echo for 5 years, and came and got octavia Again, all in 7 Days in bardo time, very Strange

also from what we saw im gathering that when octavia returned to bardo she got all her memories back from skyring and stuff too, right? because she seemed to know levitt? so im hoping that when she and bellamy reunite again she’ll have all those memories because she really grew so much during that time and learned so much about herself and bellamy and i just want her to have those 10 years (also i obviously want her to be able to remember all the time with hope and stuff too because i love those two and really want to see them together more especially now that Hope’s an adult they’re just so cute)

i was genuinely just So Happy to see bellamy i Really missed him and wish he had been in the episode longer and hope he’s in more of the episode next week because God Damn i love him

okay so bellamy is definitely Not Dead becuase that would be So Dumb my guess is that he jumped into the bridge before the explosion but the explosion messed something up so he didn’t end up in sanctum, instead he’s on a different planet (maybe even that same icy planet clarke is now on👀👀👀👀 idk i can Hope)

also echo is a Mess like i get you were upset girl but you really gotta be Logical

its also interesting when looking at last episode she chose logic over emotion by killing the guys and betraying orlando because it was logical even though it hurt someone she had grown to care for but Now she but her anger and sadness of losing bellamy over the logical action of keeping the hostage

and i think some could use this to say “echo is just a shitty person so likes killing” but i don't think thats true at all

she’s been raised as a soldier since she was So Young, so naturally she is a very logical person, in fact most of what we’ve seen from her is logic, even the things we’ve seen her do that were “evil” or violent were very logical when looking at it from her view

but as we know echo is Not Good at being her own person, she literally almost killed herself at the end of season 4 because she felt that was what she needed to do as penance for her failing the ice nation and then in space she latched onto space kru, to have a sense of loyalty again, and i think she Specifically latched onto Bellamy because 1) they did know each other before but mostly 2) he was the one who stopped her from killing herself, so i think in that moment of losing herself entirely, she found bellamy as a person to store her faith and loyalty into

and this all leads to that last scene with echo killing that dude, echo is obviously upset that bellamy is dead because she does love him (not in the way she thinks she does but ya know) but i think she’s more upset because of that same sense of failing bellamy

before when she almost killed herself she didn’t have anyone to blame for what happened but herself, she obviously couldn’t be mad at ice nation or even at skykru really, so she could only blame herself, but in the situation of losing bellamy, there is a clear subject of blame in echo’s eyes, so when she once again feels lost and hopeless, she chooses emotion over logic and takes it out on that guy that she uses as a point of blame

anyway y’all can still hate echo i’m not saying you can’t, but i just don’t think she’s a “bad” person (i mean compared with everyone else on the show, most of whom have committed war crimes so are technically bad people compared to a real person in our world)

so in conclusion: i love the blakes and the griffins and levitt and want to give them all hugs, also the sanctum plot is alright i guess, im way more into bardo rn (mostly because thats where the blakes are) but honeslt yay attention is also Wherever Clarke is (also where was madi??? we also didn’t see her last episode?? does she know where her mom is? i’m just generally concerned for her and miss her)

hopes for next week: more Clarke!!! more Bellamy!!! also octavia pls! and also i’d like to know who knocked gaia out and what they did to the stones because i just remembered that was a thing

#wow this was a Real Mess #ya girl just had a lot of Thoughts this week i guess #the 100 #the 100 spoilers #clarke griffin #bellamy blake #octavia blake #john murphy #emori #indra #echo kom azgeda #hope diyoza #tw suicide

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yourdanganronpaneedshere · 5 years

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heya long time no see! remember that time i made a request but the requests were closed?, welp now that they're open again, im here to re-send mine as i promised owo; how would rantaro, kokichi, shuichi, kaito and kiibo react when they see their (S/O) escaping from her execution, and when everything is over, she appears behind them all tired and exhausted saying "did ya' miss me?"

HeY GUYS, sorry for the long absence lmao, but it’s one in the morning and I need some ANGST. Anyways, I’m glad you’re back hun! I was really excited to do this ask!

~ Mod Hiyoko

Amami, Ouma, Saihara, Momota and Kiibo’s Fem! S/O escaping her execution!

Rantaro Amami

There was a dark aura in the trial grounds as everyone’s chatter continued on. Rantaro had a feeling since they first exited the elevator that you were hiding something, and as the trial went on, the sinking feeling in his stomach only got worse.

He didn’t really care so much how or when you committed the murder, he just wanted to know why. He wouldn’t even have imagined his dear S/O committing such an atrocious act.

You began to grow more and more nervous as you felt his stone gaze beat into you… Like he was staring into your soul. Finally, you just admitted it was you.

Rantaro let out a sigh. Definitely not one of relief. More like a weight he had been carrying was now off his shoulders, but in the worst way possible.

It was a particularly messy kill, so people didn’t have too hard of a time believing it was you. The vote was cast swiftly and everyone stared at the screen as your portrait appeared. You were the Blackened.

Your classmates looked at you in a mixture of pity and remorse. They demanded you explain your actions in minute detail, but the only voice you could register was that of your boyfriend’s.

“Why?” Rantaro asked you simply. “Why did you do this?”

“B-because…” It was hard to speak with everyone’s gazes upon you, but you managed to choke out your explanation, and everyone appeared satisfied, aside from a few snide remarks from Miu and Kokichi, but Rantaro shut them up with a harsh glare.

You couldn’t tell if he was disappointed, sad, angry, or a mix of the three, but all you felt in that moment was shame so heavy that you felt like you deserved whatever Monokuma had in store for you.

Rantaro approached you, and you braced yourself for harsh words, but instead he gently wrapped his arms around you in a loving embrace. His hugs were always the best, but this one was tighter than usual, and he was slightly trembling.

“I love you S/O. I’m so, so sorry.”

He tried to grab you again when you were dragged off to face your execution, but there was nothing he could do. He felt empty. The anger and depression wouldn’t sink in until much later, all he could think about was that you were gone. Or else he thought.

“Did ya miss me?”

He stared at you, mouth agape, but he nodded in response. He gently placed his hand on your cheek and caressed it with his thumb before leaning in to kiss you.

“Yeah, I did.”

Kokichi Ouma

For once, Kokichi almost lost his composure. He knew it was you from the very beginning, but a part of him thought maybe, just maybe there was a chance he could be proven wrong.

He kept his arms carelessly rested behind his head, he had the same mischievous grin, and he still toyed with your classmates like it was all a game to him. But inside, he was panicking. He finally found someone he could trust, and she had to go and kill someone. He felt betrayed, but the common sense in him told him not to jump to any conclusions just yet.

To your surprise, Kokichi barely acknowledged you at all throughout the entire trial. But then again, you knew him long enough to know that he probably had connected all of the dots long beforehand. Was he pissed off? Did he not care? There was no way for you to know.

Everyone else came to the same conclusion he had, and trial ended with you being voted as the Blackened. Since you were dating Kokichi, everyone had assumed that you were as nasty as him by default, so no one was really surprised.

“Why did you do it?” It wasn’t Kokichi who had asked this, but Shuichi. Your boyfriend was still actively ignoring you.

“I…” You explained to the best of your abilities. Your motivations came to a bit of a shock to the others. They expected something more… Sadistic.

You knew every second drew you closer to death, and you wanted to break the silence between Kokichi and yourself before you left him for good. You spoke his name, but he cut you off before you could say anything else.

“Wait!” He turned towards Monokuma with a desperate look on his face that surprised even you.

“Execute me instead! You want someone to die, right? Kill me in her place!”

You stood there blankly, unable to process what was going on. Kokichi, who had been ignoring you for the whole trial, who hadn’t even reacted to your confession, was now pleading for your life.

Monokuma just laughed at him. The black and white bear pulled a lever and the chain gripped your neck in a tight hold and yanked you backwards.

Kokichi screamed out your name as you disappeared. Shortly after, you reappeared on the large screen, and everyone watched as you withstood indescribable torture. Kokichi couldn’t even watch the end. He turned away, a dark shadow covering his expression. You were gone. The only person who had ever truly loved him. The Mastermind would be put through hell. He would see to it personally.

There was a tap on his shoulder, and he whipped around to see your triumphant smirk.

“Miss me?”

“W-what?”

Not much time was spent before he tackled you in a hug. His heart pounded in his chest, and he fought to hold back tears. His stance on the Mastermind still stood. They would pay in their blood for what happened to you, but that would have to wait awhile. Kokichi didn’t plan on letting you go any time soon.

Shuichi Saihara

Shuichi couldn’t believe it. It was Kaede all over again, but this time worse. At that point, he was convinced God wanted to see him suffer.

It hurt him immensely to do so, but as the Ultimate Detective, it was his job to root out the truth and save his fellow classmates from impending doom… Even at the cost of his lover’s life.

The entire time he followed the trail towards you, he felt the lump in his throat getting ever bigger. He knew without a doubt you were the killer, but he couldn’t bring himself to flat out say it. You both made direct eye contact, and though your lips were in a straight line, and your eyebrows rested comfortably like you could care less about the world, your eyes spoke to him in a way that said “it’s okay. You can say it.”

And so he did.

“…and my deductions have lead me to believe that… S/O is the killer.”

Everyone gasped. Partly at the fact that he thought you were the killer, but also because he could accuse his girlfriend of murder so calmly. It was a whirlwind of emotions in the trial room, but no one’s shock could outmatch the pure despair you and Shuichi felt in that moment.

Before he voted, Shuichi insisted you explain your actions, and internally begged that you at least killed them on accident, and not in an act of cold blood.

After you had explained everything with tears in your eyes threatening to spill over, everyone cast their vote, and all that was left to do was wait.

Shuichi didn’t waste anymore time on talking, tears fell from his eyes like a waterfall and he solemnly walked up to you and pulled you into his arms. He didn’t even care why you did it. He was about to lose the most important person in his life, and it was going to be shown on a huge t.v. like it was some sort of joke.

“I’m so sorry Shuichi.” You felt like you had to say something, something to calm his nerves, and to atone for the emotional strain he was put through, but he just shook his head and squeezed you tighter.

“No, I’m sorry. I should’ve prevented this from happening, I should’ve-”

“Let’s give it everything we’ve got! IIIIIIIIIT’S, PUNISHMENT TIME!”

In the blink of an eye, you were ripped from Shuichi’s grasp and pulled onto the execution grounds. It happened so fast Shuichi couldn’t even react. He just watched in silent agony as you went through your death. It was torture. There was no way he would be able to bounce back from this. But… maybe God didn’t hate him as much as he thought.

“Ya miss me?”

Of course he would ask a million questions once you got out of there, but at that moment all Shuichi did was hold you while the sobbing started up again.

Kaito Momota

Kaito was yelling throughout the entire trial. It wasn’t unusual for him to be vocal during trials, but this time there was unadulterated anger and frustration lacing his words as everyone began to accuse you of the murder.

“W-What the hell are you guys saying?! S/O would never kill anyone! Shuichi-”

But even his sidekick wasn’t there with him this time. Kaito desperately looked over at you, inwardly begging you to show any sign of innocence, but the look of guilt in your eyes said it all.

Even after everyone had voted and you were revealed to be the Blackened, he was still in denial. He tried to run at Monokuma, yelling various insults and curse words while Shuichi and Kiibo both held him back.

Nobody would ever catch him cry, but the sadness in his eyes was enough.

“S/O, why?”

You explained everything, expecting Kaito to be furious with you. He was furious, all right, but not with you; with the Mastermind.

He panicked when Monokuma announced that it was time for your punishment, and ran over to you, wrapping you in a protective embrace. But the chain grasped your torso, and even Kaito’s strong hold wasn’t enough to keep you from being yanked backwards.

He watched your execution, gritting his teeth the entire time.

“DAMN IT!” He yelled, pounding his fist on a nearby surface. It wasn’t fair. You shouldn’t have been forced to kill. He was going to stop this killing game. For you, and for-

His thoughts were interrupted by a voice coming from behind him.

“Did ya miss me?”Surprisingly, his shock didn’t last long before he pulled you into a hug. Like I said, nobody would ever see him cry… But at that moment, he was pretty damn close.

K1-B0

Kiibo couldn’t understand it. He couldn’t wrap his head around how you could get yourself in this position. Whether you killed on purpose or by accident, he was just… dumbfounded.

The entire trial he was silent. Normally he would chime in, as eager to solve the murder and get back to his life as everyone else. But now he could only watch in depressed silence as the trial continued on. You had told him beforehand exactly what happened, and though Kiibo did have his own sense of justice… he still couldn’t send his lover to her death.

But once the trial came to a close and your face appeared on the large t.v. signifying your guilt, his silence came to an end. There was a flood of emotions he didn’t even know he could feel. Sadness at your impending death, fear at what said death would hold in store for you, and anger that you were forced into this situation in the first place.

Everyone asked why you did what you did, Kiibo included, and you answered honestly. Monokuma’s shrill and ugly voice rang out, saying it was time for your punishment. You ran to Kiibo to share one last hug, and kissed him gently on his cheek, apologizing for leaving him. Kiibo assured you he held no hard feelings, and himself apologized for letting it come to this.

He broke down in tears when the chain yanked you backwards into the black abyss; into the trial grounds fit only for the Ultimate (Talent) herself.

You two were always together… How could this happen? You swore to protect each other, and he lost you. Throughout your execution, he was thinking of ways he could destroy the Mastermind and end the killing game. Kiibo couldn’t allow anyone else to die.

He didn’t even notice the amazed gasps coming from his classmates as you stumbled up behind him, at least, not until he heard your voice.

“Did you miss me?”

“S-S/O?”

Kiibo wasted no time in rushing over to you, wrapping his arms around you, which, needless to say, was a little painful, but at the time you didn’t care; you simply hugged him back and cried with him. As emotional as this moment was, you would have a lot of explaining to do later… As well as a very pissed off Monokuma to deal with.

#yourdanganronpaneedshere #yourdanganronpaneeds #mod hiyoko #ndrv3 #rantaro amami #kokichi ouma #shuichi saihara #kaito momota #kiibo #x reader #fem reader #danganronpa imagines #rantaro x reader #kokichi x reader #shuichi x reader #kaito x reader #kiibo x reader

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