#going to sleep pretty down and deflated but alas

[hismourningflower]

goodnight dash (:

[sungbeam]

𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐲

ji changmin x gn!reader

1.3k words, est. relationship au, hurt/comfort, minor fluff but more angst?, a bit of silliness, mentions of work pressures, neck kisses, intimacy, mentions of playful biting, pretty much not beta'd or proofread (past my bedtime; written in an hour)

a/n: @kimsohn saw some of the goofiness first <3 ily (*breathes in deeply* idk what im doing guys. anyways, this belongs in the category labeled "i get yappy and sappy when im existentially exhausted")

In the dark, the clock on top of the oven screamed “3:22AM” in angry, red light. You stumbled past it, vision blurry and footsteps as quiet as you could make them against the hardwood. Your bones ached to the marrow and you could feel the blood throbbing violently in your skull; you could not sleep.

It had been three hours of tossing and turning before you completely gave up and slipped out into the kitchen. Usually, it wasn't too difficult for you to fall asleep, but alas, there would always be exceptions.

You managed to find the opened bag of tangerines on the kitchen counter, the orange, wiry mesh already torn from the last person who'd grabbed one to snack on. As your eyes grew accustomed to the dark, you dug your nail into its skin and began to peel it open.

Through your daze, you just barely registered the sound of the bedroom door opening—footsteps followed after and came closer; they weren't trying to stay quiet like you were, as there wasn't any reason to anymore. Hands patted you down from your shoulders to your arms until they could settle comfortably around your waist; his body slid flush against your back like a puzzle piece, still warm from being in bed. Hair tickled the underside of your jaw as he nestled his chin into the crook of your shoulder, the ghost of his breath fanning across your skin like a caress, relieved.

“Did I wake you?” You murmured, forcing yourself awake a little as you felt him lean more of his weight against you.

A low hum. “Bed got cold.”

The corners of your mouth tilted upward as you stuck a piece of fruit into your mouth—it was summer; the bed couldn't have been cold. Juice spilled over your tongue in a comfortingly sweet tang, and you went for another. “Sorry, love. Do you want some?” You asked, holding onto a piece of tangerine.

“Mm-mm,” Changmin hummed, shaking his head with a slight movement. You felt his arms give your body a squeeze. “Are you okay?” He asked, voice small.

You shoveled the remainder of the tangerine half into your mouth, hands reaching for another one to keep yourself busy as you chewed, then swallowed. “Tired.”

“Is it the thing?”

Just the thought of the thing—the project you were given charge of at work—made you wish the ground would swallow you up. Your hands stilled on the orange.

The project was the first you were given a manager role for, as they thought it appropriate because you came up with the idea, but it seemed to only be an excuse to overload you with every Herculean task they could think of. You were practically chained to your cubicle desk until day's end, only leaving to go to the bathroom and attend another god forsaken meeting. Where home was supposed to be for rest, you were often slumped over the dining table, stressing yourself silver.

The thought of Monday… no, you couldn't think of Monday. You'd gone so long working on this thing—how could they make you loathe an idea that you proposed?

At your lack of an answer, there came a small breath against your neck. His thumb gently rubbed your side back and forth, the ebb and flow of the tide. “I'm sorry, baby. I know it doesn't mean much, but I'm proud of you.”

“It does mean something,” you countered quietly, and moved one of your hands to place it over his that rested over your stomach. “I'm just—I hate it here sometimes.”

The two of you seemed to sigh at once, your chests raising up then deflating in tandem. It made the knots in your shoulders loosen for just a moment, and you could release some of the strain keeping you tight and awake.

“One more,” he coaxed lowly. “In—”

You both slowly pulled air up through your nose to fill the caverns in your chests.

“—Out.”

As all things came and went, so too did this breath.

“Good,” he murmured, his lips pressing something sweet against your throat.

You were too tired to cry, but you might have just then. Sometimes it was just a project, but other times it was everything to you. It was born from your two hands, your brains, your back, your bones. Plenty of blood, sweat, and tears had seeped into every proposal and presentation, but you could never tell if it was enough. Would it ever be enough?

Changmin's head shifted as you snuck another piece of orange past your lips. “Remember,” he said, “when we were in college, and I let you text girls on my Hinge?”

Your mouth sweetened into a smile at the memory. “It was only because I let you text the guy who'd given me his number.”

“He was so lame—he clearly just wanted you to go see that new Stephen King movie so he could hold your hand.” You could feel him roll his eyes in the dark, though his voice remained syrupy with sleep.

You held back a snort. “That's the point, hon. If I remember correctly, the pick-up lines I used on those girls actually worked.”

“Crazy.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. You chewed on the next piece of fruit, swallowing it down before speaking again. “At least one of us has game.”

You felt the light pressure of his teeth against your shoulder, and you let out a surprised laugh. You didn't jerk away though—awfully used to your partner's strange language of affection—but you did push back against his forehead in lighthearted reprimand. “We talked about the biting.”

“Yeah, and you said you liked it.”

It was a good thing you didn't have fruit in your mouth. You warmed the slice of orange in your palm as you let the heat leave your cheeks and your neck. He could undoubtedly feel how flushed you were, and he seemed to preen at it.

“Gotcha,” he said smugly, and the smile on his lips molded against your skin as he left a kiss behind your ear. He nuzzled his nose there, too, fingers dancing along your side.

“I love you,” he said next. These words were quiet again. “I hate seeing you like this.”

You knew he meant the state he found you in—hunched over in the dark, eyes glazed over, and dread thrashing in your ears to fill the silence. The laughter that lit up your face just now had been his doing, his attempt at easing all of that burden.

You laid your head against his. “I love you, too.” You hated feeling this way, but some things had to be done. You had to see this one through, and you would.

“Don't run yourself ragged for this,” he said, as if reading your mind. “Can't let you lose yourself.”

The corners of your eyes prickled, your vision going blurry again. Your chewing slowed and you finished the last of the orange in your hands to clear the way for him to grab your fingers to intertwine them with his. He rocked your bodies slowly, dreamily—he was the gentle swaying of the waves beneath the raft you laid upon—and he was keeping you above water.

“Senior year of high school—” a miniscule break in his own voice, “—when college decisions came out… you didn't speak for so long, didn't eat. It was so quiet, and I—I didn't know how to help you.” Back then, the two of you were only labeled as best friends; you still hadn't decided if what you had back then was what you had now, but it was love in some form of the word and feeling. You supposed in every phase of knowing Ji Changmin, what you felt for him was love. “Can I help you now, please? How can I help you?”

You sucked in a breath and it came out trembling. “I'm just tired.”

“Yeah.”

“Just—that’s all. Just be here with me.”

You could feel his slight nod that turned into a tuck into your shoulder. Your pulse fluttered beneath the brush of his lips, his hands tightening around you. (I'm not going anywhere, not without you.)

In a night quickly dissolving into daylight, he held you and held you and held you.

tbz m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @luumiinaa @lotties-readings @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @gluion @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @kflixnet @bjnet

[enhastolemyheart]

kinktober day 4 — somnophilia

nsfw content minors dni.

pairing bf!sunghoon x reader

warnings consensual somnophilia (m receiving), smut, kissing, nudity, profanity, a little bit of dirty talk (ig), p in v, petnames, not proofread lmk if anything's missing

requested @ anon

word count 0.8k

kinktober masterlist — here

You couldn't sleep. It was nearing three in the morning.

You tried to have some tea (which obviously failed 'cause you are not a tea person); you tried meditating; you tried listening to white noise; But, Alas! You were wide awake, tossing and turning in the sheets. And that surprisingly didn't affect your boyfriend's slumber, Sunghoon.

You get and go the washroom. After doing your business, you exit the bathroom but end up stopping yourself in your tracks, astonished by your mans' beauty.

He slept soundly on your shared bed. Blanket half-off his physique. He slept shirtless, his smooth muscles inflating and deflating at his low and constant breathing. He is too pretty, you thought. Too pretty for your own good.

His skin seems to glisten under the moonlight that was seeping through your open window. Or maybe he really is glowing. Well, that's how it seemed when he walked inside your apartment not long ago, drenched in sweat due his heavy and draining tour prep. He couldn't stay awake for dinner, he just passed out.

The flashbacks of the way he sexily, messily stripped out of his shirt, and the way he asked you to pull his pants down because he was too tired to, all come back to you and run straight to your core. Now all you can think about is his heavy breathing, the way his body moved along with it, and the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he tried to take a breather before going to sleep.

And now, your wet. Absolutely, disgustingly, needily wet.

you need him.

you manage to somehow strip the pants off his body and now he's moved to his back. You straddle him, not before taking off your sleep shorts and panties, clad only in a flimsy thin strap cami. You groan at the contact of your core meeting his member. Feeling impatient, you start to rock on you dick slowly. Sunghoon stirs slightly underneath you, adding some movement to yours, causing you to let out a low moan failing to be quiet. you throw your had back, throat drying up since your mouth has been open due to the ecstasy. You start riding his fully hard clothed member.

before you can pick up your pace, you feel large, rough hands make contact with the flesh of your ass, squeezing it like a stressball. You look at him in surprise, but find that his eyes are closed, face with no expression, putting you under the impression that he's still asleep or half asleep at the least.

"hoon?" you try to slow down, but his hands guide your pussy on him.

"you stop and you won't get to cum." he slurs, finally opening his eyes to look at you, brown orbs oozing with lust, "couldn't control yourself, sweetheart?"

"No- ah!" you can't control the sound that escape your mouth now. the sight of his abs clenching only adding up to your pent up needs. You moan at the sight and he gets the hint. He stops you by a slap on your ass before he sits up against the head board. He pulls you towards him with grip on your hips until you land on his stomach, right on his beautiful, full, clenching abs.

"ride my abs and maybe you'll get to come sweetheart." he slurs, giving a wet and hot kiss on your lips.

at his signal, you start moving on his abs. such a new feeling, it got a clenching hard around nothing. "Ah fuck hoon, feels good!"

he chuckles lowly before clenching his abs, giving you're bud of nerves more stimulation that has you moaning out his name like a mantra. you already feel the knot in your abdomen tightening. "hoon fuck I'm close."

"yeah?" he tightens his hands on the sides of your hips, helping you get off using his abs, "come for me babygirl."

you swear you never came so hard in your life, "Sunghoon!" you immediately fall on top of him as his movements falter, coming to a stop. you release all over his abs and lower tummy, feeling all sticky. you let out a little chuckle of embarrassment.

"Sorry for waking you up from your sleep, I know how tired you were."

he smack his lips before placing a kiss on your lips, your hands circle his neck at you make the kiss deeper before he pulls away, "nonsense sweetheart. If you're gonna wake me up for these type of reason I don't care how tired I am. Your pleasure come first babygirl."

you groan in embarrassment, head finding home at the crook at his neck. he chuckles before squeezing your ass, wrapping his arms around and turning you both around resulting in a squeal at you.

"plus," he sits up, taking off his underwear, showing off his dick that rock hard at this point, begging for some release and attention, "you deserve a punishment for ruining my sleep." he smirks wildly, indicating that it's only getting started.

you elicit a chuckle before pulling him down for a kiss. He puts his member inside, your tight walls greeting him home. your moan getting muffled by his lips. You know this night won't really end when his thrusts are deep and sharp.

"let's have some fun sweetheart."

a/n. tysm for reading. im really sorry for not posting consistently, i've been having alot of school stuff. im trying my best to be consistent with this series! I really don't want to discontinue this saur I'm even gonna post kinktober if its not done within the month. I will finish it.

taglist. @seungiesluv @jak-ey @unlikelysublimekryptonite @seungcore @heeseungshim @arizejkt19 @manasasugarbaby09 @wildflowermooon @lixieisfrv @racerhee @kaykay11sworld @heeliopheelia

@ ENHASTOLEMYHEART, 2023. - please do not repost, copy or translate.

[heyaeolus]

Hii, are you taking request? If it's not bothersome, that haikyuu as a parent was adorable XD and I would like to request something similar. How about Haikyuu as dads embarrassing their daughter/son, (maybe Kuroo, Bokuto, Oikawa and Atsumu) who would most likely do this 😂

HQ boys being embarrassing fathers

The length is pretty inconsistent depending on what situation I thought out for the character. I personally think I’m not that good with jokes he he he...

I HOPE U LIKE IT OMG

AND YES I TAKE IN REQUESTSSSS

Bokuto

We all know he is loud and we don’t even have to say it

You were usually the one who drives your daughter to school but today, you end up waking up late because a certain someone decided that you needed the extra sleep (yes he’s sweet but you have a meeting with the executives)

So you’ve now got two wonderful girls with Koutarou, they’re now 6 and 12 years old

“Koutarou don’t do anything weird, okay.” That was a fair warning for him but it goes right off his ear as soon as he zooms off because hE GETS TO DRIVE HIS PRINCESSES TO SCHOOL

Your youngest was the first he dropped off. He sent him off with a big smooch and an “I love you, little owl!” Your youngest shouted back an “I love you too!” to his daddy with a big grin before running off to her classroom.

The challenge came when he dropped off your eldest. Being in her school, your daughter doesn’t want everyone to see how much of a daddy’s girl she is so when Koutarou leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, she dodged

In a second, Koutarou’s hair deflated. Your daughter tried to reason, “Dad, not here. It’s my school!”

“Do you not love me anymore, baby owl? Have you found another guy to replace daddy?

“DAD, NO. You’re overreacting.”

“No, baby owl. You should kiss daddy when he wants one!” then he tries and leans in again but this time your daughter gets off the car and shuts the door on her father’s face leaving Koutarou to his despair

But alas, there’s a solution to it! Koutarou rolls down the window of his car and pops his head out and shouts “I LOVE YOU BABY OWL! HONEY BUNCH! MY SWEET LITTLE PUMPKIN!”

Your daughter is good as dead right then as the children around stared at her father, chuckling. Others even taking a video of what was happening. Your poor daughter is as red as a tomato as she bolted further into her school grounds.

“DADDY WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU EVEN IF YOU DON’T LOVE HIM BACK”

“Mom, save me.”

The video of that incident instantly graced the internet, going viral in under 24 hours. It was safe to say Koutarou is not allowed to drive your daughters to school again. But he’s happy he got his kiss from his eldest now.

 Oikawa

Another dude here that is sweet with his daughter. Literally pours his heart to his sweet little angel and gives her everything.

Sometimes, you fade into the background with these two.

One Saturday, your daughter came with company. To your horror, it was a guy named Hiro. Although decent looking, you don’t like the fact that she is engaging in romance as early as her age.

But Tooru thinks otherwise, “Oh? My sweet little angel has inherited my charm!”

Your daughter blushes at her father’s comment and pulls her company into the backyard. Settling on the bench swing in there.

It was fine and everything’s going good with him and her company until Tooru’s voice rang from inside.

“Y/D/N-chan and Hiro-kun sitting on a tree~ K I S S I N G ~”

Your daughter turned and found his dad cruelly comfortable leaning on the ledge of the window overseeing the backyard, toying with a rose that she recognized were the ones you bought to put in the vase at the living room

As if once is not enough, Tooru repeated the verse again. Your daughter felt like bURSTING

She put her face into her palms, furiously blushing. She turned to Hiro who is now awkwardly laughing at the sight of your husband. She tells him, “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry for the existence of my father. Don’t mind his presence.”

“OuCH! Y/N-chan! Why’d you do that?! I was only entertaining our visitor! Come here watch them with me.”

 Sawamura

HA you bet Daichi is the model father but yes, you are partially right. He’s pretty tight with some things but is still sweet. But it doesn’t mean he doesn’t got some pretty embarrassing moments

You guys are in the mall for the weekend, shopping for new clothes as winter is approaching. You were separated from them when you followed a saleslady to find your size of the shoes you wanted

Your daughter was on her phone while her dad stood by her, shopping bags in his hands. He peeked into her phone a few times, finding her chatting with a guy. When she giggled to herself, it was peak protective father mode for Daichi “Sweetie, who are you talking to?”

“Oh. Just a friend, dad.”

Daichi scoffed to himself, skeptically glaring at the back of his daughter’s head. Thinking, “How could you lie to me, sweetie?”

Moments after, the father and daughter pair turned their heads to a guy’s voice calling out your daughter’s name. Daichi grew rigid as soon as he saw the boy

The boy, completely oblivious of Daichi’s mood, ran up to your daughter with arms spread. It was to Daichi’s horror that his daughter came into the guy’s arms and hugged him back. Daichi let them exchange a few words after but his aura is just hard to shake off with him staring hard at the guy. He soon bids goodbye, bowing at Daichi

But before he could go farther, Daichi talks to your daughter, rather LOUDLY.

“SWEETIE, I DON’T WANT YOU HUGGING RANDOM PEOPLE NEXT TIME” People around were already staring at them as Daichi continues his rant with a straight face

“Dad, geez, he’s a friend!”

“NEXT TIME YOU DO THAT THAT PERSON WILL MEET MY WRATH”

The next time your daughter had that friend over at your house along with some others, he was weirdly sweating and keeping very little space for himself

“Are you okay?” you asked the boy

“Ah, yes. Thank you, Mrs. Sawamura.”

Daichi smiled to himself while your daughter shook her head at the side in pure embarrassment

 Atsumu

Atsumu has a big internet fanbase. He also keeps all his accounts active, especially his twitter. Your son blocked him in almost every platform with the exception of Instagram and Facebook for formality.

Atsumu is, rather, a supportive father to your son.

Example number one: once, your son posted a sad quote in Facebook and Atsumu commented with “Let’s have a boys’ talk later, buddy” your son deleted the post

When Atsumu came home that night he went straight to your son’s room knocking at his door. Your son was quick to reject his father, “NO DAD. THANK YOU BUT NO.”

The next one was when your son advertised Osamu’s onigiris with a picturesque post over at IG and the piss-haired twin didn’t think before he commented, “I can make better onigiris than Samu, buddy.”

You came home that night with about two days’ worth of rice on the kitchen and Atsumu wildly rapping at your son’s door. “YOU HAVE TO TASTE THIS BUDDY THIS IS BETTER”

[constellarations]

moon's wane - reki x gn!reader

reki's feeling down and you comfort him.

pairing: reki x gn!reader

warnings: sad reki :(

notes: hi

gift for: @hpalways

Reki was acting strangely today.

Actually, he’s been strange for the past week. Week! Why a week? Uh, you weren’t sure.

You wondered if he was possessed. Kyan Reki, a literal skateboarding-fanatic, had suddenly stopped skateboarding to school. Was this what parents called a phase?! An era, even?

He was unenthusiastic, and even when you offered to go skating with him, he declined and said he was busy.

Busy doing what? You munched on an apple angrily. Sure, you didn’t confess to Reki yet. And suuure, you had no idea if he liked you back or even cared about your feelings, but—!

“[Name].”

Okay, honestly, you didn’t even know if Reki was into you. His love for skateboarding probably overpowered any inch of… existence… that you had up in his (tiny) brain.

Silence.

And not to mention the fact that the two of you shared like— zero hobbies in common! What does writing and skateboarding allude to? Uh… poetry about a board? Hello?!

“[Name].”

You took another bite out of your apple, questioning the meaning of life and whether the way Reki spared you a glance for approximately 0.628 seconds meant that he was in love with you.

“[Name]!”

You flinched. Looking over to your side, where your ear was getting yelled at, you were met with the sight of Langa…

… Who had a very unamused expression.

“Did you have a fight with Reki?”

You were offended momentarily, taken aback at his sudden question.

“No?”

“You sound unsure.”

“I didn’t talk to him at all!”

“When was the last time you talked to him?”

Are you a therapist? A detective, even? You sweatdropped, unsure of how to answer.

“I don’t know… yesterday?”

Langa looked surprised. What was he expecting? For you to not talk to Reki for weeks? As much as you wished you could do that, Reki, unfortunately, had some kind of magnet around—

“So he’s sad because of another reason.”

“EH?! Are you saying he’d be sad because of me?”

Okay, now you were actually offended. Did Langa think Reki and you had some kind of bad blood? Hello… that’s a Taylor Swift song! Not your relationship!

“I don’t know.” Langa shrugged. You almost wanted to strangle him, but alas, you were not here to kill pretty boys. “He just seems… off.”

He does. You agreed silently. You were so used to a flamboyant and sunshine Reki, it was odd to see him so down in the dumps. In all honesty, you didn’t even want him to be down. You wanted Reki to be happy.

“I’ll go talk to him!” You stood up with newfound determination. Langa, on the other hand, could only watch you with his usual confused deadpan.

“[Name]-chan, do you even know where he is?”

You deflated slightly. If this were a K-Drama, you would’ve known. Ah, what was the title of that one show? Where they have this little alarm in their head when they come close to the one they love? Yeah, that was what you wanted to be. Though, if you were near Reki with that ability, you may have gone mad due to the repetitive alarm of your mind.

“No… I don’t. But I can find him! Just watch me!”

Langa let out a puff of air, mumbling something along the lines of “no thank you.”

A tick mark appeared on your forehead. The Canadian boy was lucky that he was cute, if he wasn’t, he would’ve been six feet (under)!

And then, you ran off. Leaving a very indifferent Langa and a bunch of questions sprouting in your mind.

Usually, you would find Reki somewhere like a skatepark— but obviously, he was possessed or whatever— so he wouldn’t be at such a place.

Your brain then became the size of the galaxy. His house! You made an abrupt turn, running for your bike that was parked before swiftly hopping onto it, pedalling away to the boy’s address.

Okay, actually, you were no stalker. So you had to pull your phone out to get directions… but let’s pretend that you knew based on instincts because of your undying love for the red-haired boy!

Coincidentally enough, there was a silhouette standing right outside the boy’s house. Squinting, you could barely make out the faint hue of crimson, matched with a very unfitting frown.

Reki. You pedalled a bit faster, desperation rocking each time you did. He’s sad? Why? He seemed to be looking quietly down at his skateboard. The scratches on the bottom represented all of his hard work, and yet, he didn’t look proud.

Finding your voice, you called, “Reki!”

You smiled brightly. It contrasted his solemn look as he glanced up at you instantly. Slightly, you could make out his lips curving up. Somehow, it managed to make your heart beat faster.

When Reki frowns (which was very rare), you would smile. If you could, you would give him every single smile that you’ve ever shown. All of them, any of them. You’d smile for him until your lips could not do so anymore.

Because whenever you were sad, he was there for you. It was only fair to do it back to him. If it were nature’s ecosystem, you supposed that Reki would be the rain and sun, giving you time to flourish. And in return? You’d promise to take care of this grand Earth while he cultivated it.

When did I suddenly become a poet? Your hands subconsciously braked, you suppose it was muscle memory. Docking the bike before hopping off, you walked slowly up to the boy with a small grin.

“[Name].” He seemed relieved when he saw you, and for a moment, it made your hopes fly high. It felt good to know that you were not the only one who was ecstatic over such a brief meeting.

“Want to walk around the town? There’s a new boba place that opened up! We should go together.” You decided to take his mind off of whatever was bothering him. You were no therapist, per se, but it was a start.

And surprisingly, Reki accepted your offer. Weirdly enough, he turned around to his porch before dropping off his skateboard. It confused you a bit— no, tremendously.

Deciding that the sport was the source of his worries, you decided not to pry. I’ll ask later.

With a warm face and a racing heart, the two of you walked off in the direction of the shop. It was odd not biking and him skateboarding, but a change of pace was nice every now and then.

“Hey, [Name]...” Reki kicked a pebble. You almost felt bad for the tiny rock. “Have you ever fallen behind in something you loved?’

Your eyes widened before your mind drifted off. Many times, actually. You were not invincible or a character that was protected heavily by plot-armor— you were just you… kind of average, kind of dumb, but at the end of the day, failure was common, wasn’t it?

“Yeah,” your voice quieted down, and for a second, Reki panicked.

“Sorry! Was that too blunt—?! I’m really sorry!”

You smiled.

“Don’t worry about it, Reki.” You could feel your face get hot, even under the cool Okinawa breeze.

“Actually, I fall behind a lot.” Looking down at your feet, you kind of wanted to sink into the floor. This is embarrassing! But seeing how distraught Reki was, you supposed that giving up your pride would be worth the smile he’d wear after.

“But everyone has different goals and minds. It’s not fair for me to compare myself to others…” You were tempted to give Reki a look as his lips seemed to be quivering.

“Hey, [Name]...” He spoke, stopping abruptly on the sidewalk. You paused, glancing over at him slowly.

“Can you… l-look away, for a bit?” He stuttered, face somehow turning red even under the dimming light. You wanted to question why, but the expression he had and the way his arm rubbed his eyes was enough of a response.

“Sure.” You turned around, refraining from doing the opposite and holding him while he cried. His sniffles grew louder and louder, even when he was making such an active attempt to dwindle them.

“I… I just…” His breath was shaky as he seemed to choke on his own words. “I don’t know what went wrong… what did I do?”

You did nothing wrong. You stayed silent. The male seemed to not need words of reassurance, instead, he only needed a listener.

“He started after me… b-but now I’m just a n...nobody. He’s so much better than me, in everything, anything.” He cried, sniffles turning into hiccups. Don’t cry. You wanted to turn around, but that would be a violation of his request.

So you stepped back. One, two. Counting, you finally felt a wall of fabric. The image of Reki’s yellow sweater popped up in your mind. Cute, you mused. He still wore it in times like these.

You could feel his breath stifle once your back met his. With the two of you facing away from each other, the warmth from his hoodie flourished like ink in water.

“Why do you skate, Reki?” You gazed at the sky. The moon is pretty tonight. The stars too, but right now, the stars reminded you of tears.

And it was then you realized that Reki was not the sun or the rain. He was the moon. Supportive, bright even in the darkest of times, and hidden. Reki was hidden behind prodigies like Langa and Miya, but even so, he was essential.

What would the sun do without the moon? Who would the sun step back for to lay down the burden of giving light? The sun gives for the moon to take, and the moon takes for the sun to give.

If you had looked, then Reki would probably be crying stars. Constellations would be trickling down his cheeks, and maybe, you could make out polaris with it. He could paint the galaxy with him and himself alone, he could do so much, and yet, he was not the sun.

No, he would never compare to the sun. The sun was a completely different essence in itself. It would be unfair to hold Reki up to Langa and expect them to be the same.

Reki was silent. You supposed that in this trek of inferiority, he had lost that essence— that galaxy. What was the reason he skates for? Why did he spend so many hours getting bruises and scratches?

Why did he do so much and expect so little in return?

“Because it’s fun,” he said confidently. If the moon was the sun, then it’d shine so brightly. If the moon was the sun, then the world would never have time to sleep. There would be no way to see the stars, or the constellations in the sky, or Venus and Mars.

With those three words alone, you could feel Reki’s breath speed up. He turned around, resting his hands gently on your shoulders as you could feel his smile alone.

“It’s fun! Skateboarding is fun! It can be done anywhere, anytime—” His voice cracked due to just having cried, and you swore that fumes escaped his ears. You wanted to laugh slightly at his embarrassment, but decided to be benevolent and stay quiet.

“... and can be done with the ones you love.”

You froze. Love. What a strong word, what a broad word. What is love? What does it entail? How can one person want to devote their entire life to another? It was strange.

But you suppose that love is Reki. He is love, he is someone who you’d think about the second you woke up. Was that cheesy? Yes. But when you were a kid, you used to think that the moon was made out of cheese— so it works out. You were quite the poet, Shakespeare kinnie.

“Is that so?” You pretended to question, but Reki knew that you were just saying that to say it.

Reki was an anomaly. As much as you knew about him, and he knew about you, you never seemed to understand him. If it were anyone else, you were sure that they would not recover from a slump with just three words.

But Reki was not anyone else— he was not a nobody either. Reki was the moon and the definition of love, he was sunshine even though he was unappreciated. He was everything and anything.

It was strange, though. You two were only teenagers, and yet, you could envision a whole future with the red-head. Unrealistic. You wanted to scold yourself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to.

“[Name],” Reki called, and this time, he spun you around. He averted his amber eyes from your own irises, a light pout dusting his lips.

“Do you want to… skateboard with me?”

You sweatdropped. What a weird way to confess. Though, you had just concluded that Reki was an anomaly— so this was not that strange.

“Is that your way of asking me out on a date?” You smirked, but that wasn’t enough to mask the way your eyes widened in shock. You were both idiots, but you supposed that wasn’t a bad thing.

“No— yes! Yeah? Wait—” Reki short-circuited, unsure of his own choice of words. Now, he really was reprimanding himself for being such a dummy.

“Relax.” You patted his shoulder, smirk turning into a goofy smile. “If it is… then I accept.”

“R-Really?!” His mouth hung agape, and you could only deadpan.

“Were you expecting me to say no?”

“Well.. I wasn’t really expecting to get this far!” He managed to laugh, even with tear-stained cheeks and reddened eyes.

“Idiot.”

“Hey!”

[anomander-dragnipurake]

Ghosts

I initially had the idea to do this fic a while ago, even before I started writing my first Super Mario fic. I finally got around to it for Halloween after being reminded of the idea via coming across a fanart piece that depicted a similar idea. I'd link it because it's sort of fic inspiration but it's buried deep in the Bowuigi tag on Tumblr and in the reblogs on my main blog.

~

Of course the hotel was haunted, why wouldn’t it be? Just when he thought he was finally free of having to deal with ghosts, this had to happen. Finding the Poltergust in the garage – indicating E. Gadd was here somewhere too, probably trapped in a portrait – was a sheer stroke of luck because Luigi had neglected to bring his own ghost hunting equipment. This one was the new model E. Gadd had been telling him about too which was neat expect for the fact that he now had to use it to deal with a hotel full of ghosts.

Before getting to that though, he glanced around the garage one last time to make sure he was alone before pulling out his phone. He needed to call Bowser, tell him not to come day after tomorrow after all. They’d been planning to have him show up at the hotel a couple days later and then finally reveal their relationship to Mario and Peach because away from home while on vacation when everyone was already in a good mood seemed like a good place to do that. But ghosts had happened instead so it’d have to wait.

Though it wasn’t super late into the night yet, hopefully Bowser would already be sleeping so Luigi could just leave a message. There was a very real chance Bowser would want to come anyway to punch the ghosts over their plans being ruined and only get himself in trouble. Luigi would rather not have to try to dissuade him from that so… He picked up on the third ring.

“Hey, what’s up?” he said. “Aren’t you normally in bed by now?”

“Uh… yeah but um… well turns out the hotel’s haunted, it was a trap from King Boo. He uh… yeah, stuff happened and I have to deal with it.” He needed to save Mario and Peach, the Toads too. “So, you probably shouldn’t come after all. We’ll have to tell them… later.” Both of them had kept finding reasons to put it off, figures after finally committing to a plan something would go wrong with it.

“He got Mario again, didn’t he?”

“Yep and Peach and the Toads and probably E. Gadd too, since his car is here but he’s not.”

Bowser grunted. “How does King Boo keep beating Mario when I never could?”

“Please not now.” Mario was in danger; Luigi didn’t want to hear about Bowser’s rivalry with him when that was a thing.

“Oh uh… all right, sorry. You okay?” All the gruff bravado was gone from Bowser’s voice now. Instead he sounded concerned which meant Luigi’s plea had been filled with more desperation than he’d intended.

“No, not really.” How could he be in this situation? What if he couldn’t beat King Boo this time? Or what if… King Boo took it further and killed Mario before Luigi could get there to even try to save him?

“Right, you’re afraid of ghosts, huh?”

“I know I probably shouldn’t be anymore.” He’d dealt with two full hauntings and captured King Boo twice as well so logically he shouldn’t be afraid anymore but alas, his fear had never been rooted in anything logical. “But… they’re still scary.” He leaned against E. Gadd’s car, holding back a grown. This ‘adventure’ had only just started and he was already tired.

“All righty then,” Bowser said as if reaching some kind of decision. “I’ll go over and beat the ghosts up for you. Except me in however long it takes my fastest air ship to get there.”

“What? No, no, no, you don’t need to come down here. I can handle it on my own.” It was too late though; the line was dead.

Luigi groaned as he flipped his phone closed to slip back into his pockets. Now he had to save his brother and friends and watch out for when Bowser arrived to hopefully make sure King Boo didn’t get him too. Could the night get any worse?

***

The hotel was rather drab looking in the dark of night, there wasn’t a light on anywhere inside it. It had looked much better in the brochures so it was a disappointment all around. Vacation wasn’t what Bowser was here for though so whatever. Maybe a dark hotel would serve as a good arena to beat up some ghosts and King Boo though.

Mario was going to be so shocked when he saw it was Bowser who’d save him this time. That would count as finally besting him too, right? Defeating the person who’d defeated him was basically a victory over both of them, right? So, this was going to be a fun outing after all.

With a signal from him, the ship flew in closer to hover over the roof. “Circle at a distance until I call you back,” he instructed the shy guy at the wheel before vaulting over the edge. In hindsight, even with how much it would’ve slowed down the ship, he probably should’ve brought in a troop of minions for backup but he’d been in such a hurry and hadn’t wanted to wait for an entire troop to get ready to broad it and now it was too late. Whatever though, he could handle King Boo and his tiny boos by himself.

He landed on the hotel’s roof with a thud, the tiles cracking beneath his weight. Glancing around he was disappointed to see that the roof was empty. What his exact plan was, he had no idea but he didn’t a plan, he’d just wing it like he normally did and it should be fine.

The roof was pretty barren and thus it didn’t take him long to locate a possible way down so he could enter in properly through a window or something. Before he could start to descend though…

“Why are you here?”

He snapped around to see King Boo had come out of seemingly nowhere. He was holding a portrait of Princess Peach, which knowing King Boo’s powerset, meant it probably was her. Bowser had given up courting her a long time ago and had only continued to kidnap her to lure Mario in for another rematch. He no longer even did that because Luigi had decided to convince him not to which had ultimately resulted in their current relationship. But it still made him mad because if anyone was going to capture her, it should’ve been him. He at least treated her right, the way a princess should be treated, not trapping her in a portrait. So…

“I’m here to kick your ass,” he said with a slight growl as he balled up his hands into fists. He would’ve preferred to start with a blast of fire but he wasn’t sure how flammable Peach’s portrait was and he wasn’t going to risk damaging it and possibly her.

King Boo raised an eyebrow and laughed. “You’ll make a nice portrait so sure, I won’t question my good fortune, let’s fight.”

Bowser lunged at him even before finished speaking, intending to grab and rip Peach’s portrait out of his hands. But King Boo floated higher, dodging with seemingly little effort. And he was out of Bowser’s range completely, such bullshit.

With a flash of light from King Boo’s crown, there was suddenly an empty portrait floating beside him. “Sorry this isn’t much of a fight, I got stuff to do,” he said as it starting glowing, pulling Bowser in.

Like hell was he gonna be turned into wall art. He’d blast the damn thing to bits with fire and then…

 -

Next thing he knew, he was indoors and looking down at Luigi instead of up at King Boo. It felt kind of like waking up after a too long nap. He breathed out the breath he’d been taking, releasing a puff of smoke instead of the mighty blast of fire he’d intended it to be. He glanced around at the room, it seemed to be an office of some sort. “What happened? Where am I?” he said as he looked back down.

Luigi looked tired but otherwise mostly fine. He had the Poltergust on his back but a different model than the one he’d shown Bowser. This one had a clear tank with something green inside it. “You were captured by King Boo and turned into a portrait,” he said. “Why did you have come? I tried to tell you not to.”

“Because I wanted to.” Bowser always did whatever he wanted.

“Yeah but why?”

“You’re scared of ghosts, I wanted to beat them up for you.” And he still would, he just had to try a little harder. There were few problems that couldn’t be solved with a good punch and/or blast of fire.

“Oh uh… thanks for the thought.” The slight blush on Luigi’s face as he lifted his free hand to rub the back of his neck was cute and made look slightly less tired. “But I um… I’m fine. I can handle it by myself.”

Bowser sighed as he crossed his arms. He wasn’t too good at reading other people’s emotions but… “You don’t seem fine.”

Luigi deflated a little, letting out a heavy sigh. “It’s scary and I’m tired and… scared and stuff. Gotta save my bro though so…” he trialed off with a shrug. “You should probably go the garage but uh… I’m not sure how I’m going to explain your presence to E. Gadd and the Toads, that’s going to be awkward but I’m not sure where else would be safe.”

“Fuck that, it’s personal now, I’m going to beat up King Boo.” No way would Bowser ever stand for such a humiliating defeat. So he turned to march out the room.

Before he could take more a few steps though Luigi grabbed his arm pulling him back. Bowser could easily just drag him along or pick up and carry him with him or even just shake him off entirely but didn’t.

“You can’t,” Luigi said. “He’ll just turn you into a portrait again so… please don’t. I already have to save Mario and Peach, I don’t want to have to save you again too.” He sounded desperate and scared and… it made Bowser feel bad. “So just… let me do it.”

“You’re scared of ghosts though.” So he shouldn’t even want to do this.

“Yeah but… you need special equipment for hunting ghosts and… I’ve never lost to them so… I can handle it.” He was full on hugging Bower’s arm now, making it even harder to pull away.

Bowser could only sigh at that. “All right, fine, I’ll just help you then.” He could do that much at least. “I’m not letting that bastard get away with beating me so easily and I’m not letting you face the ghosts on your own when you’re so scared of them. And there’s nothing you can do to convince me to hide in some stupid safe place instead.”

Luigi looked like he wanted to protest but sighed instead as he rested the side of his face against Bowser’s upper arm. “Okay, that works, I guess. It’s… kind of nice to have some company anyway I suppose, it gets kind of lonely sometimes.”

Bowser grunted instead of trying to come up with a reply because he wasn’t sure how to. “Let’s go,” he said instead, gesturing towards the rooms exit. He wanted to see how Luigi fought ghosts, he’d been curios about what that was like ever since Luigi had told him about it. “I can’t wait to see the look on Mario’s face when I help save him.”

Luigi chuckled nervously. “That’s uh… certainly going to be an interesting meeting.”

[five-rivers]

Ectober 1: Fog

AKA Familiar Part 3.

Find this and the first two entries to this series here.

.

Beyond the tiny off-color spot in the center of his right eye, the whole ‘kidnapped and forced to be part of a weird magic ritual’ thing hadn’t altered Danny’s appearance.  Good.  That was something he always worried about.  He let out a long, soft sigh that fogged the mirror in front of him before leaning back.  

The police and Danny and Sam’s respective parents had believed the ‘overshadowed and kidnapped’ explanation as well, thank goodness, so they hadn’t gotten in trouble.  Which… maybe shouldn’t have been as surprising as it was, considering that it had been true, if edited for length and certain damning content (e.g. all the parts with Danny being a ghost and the aforementioned magic ritual).  Tucker’s eyewitness account had helped.  

Vivian hadn’t made a repeat appearance so far, which was also good.  At least, Sam hadn’t called him about her.  Danny rubbed his right eye.  Something told him she wouldn’t have to call him to know she was in trouble.  

Good.  

Overall, the time since Danny had flown them back through the portal had been pleasant, or nearly so.  He felt happy and oddly secure.  Was it just knowing that Sam was alright?  She was a major target of his ghostly Obsession.  Maybe they could get Tucker in on this as well?  They’d taken the book with them, and Danny wouldn’t mind getting stabbed again.  

His core vibrated happily in his chest, making his heart and bones shiver.  

Yes, that would be nice…

There was a sharp rap on the door.  “Danny?” called his mom.  “Are you sure you’re alright?  You’ve been in there a while, and something like being kidnapped by a ghost…” She trailed off, a touch of anxiety in her voice.  “That can be traumatic.”

Oh, no.  He’d made Mom worry.  Happy feeling gone.  

“I’m fine,” he said, turning on the faucet to make it seem like he’d just started washing up.  “Really!”  He shut the water off and dried his hands quickly before opening the door.  “Just, you, know, a bit tired, that’s all.”  He smiled, broad and genuine.  

Maddie smiled back, although her brow was pinched. She had pushed her hood back, and her hair was frizzy with static.  “You were missing for almost a whole day, Danny.  You’ll have to forgive me for worrying.”

“I know.  I’m sorry, Mom.”

She sighed and ruffled Danny’s hair.  “At least, next time you think a friend is being possessed, if there ever is a next time, come to me and your father. Okay?  Making sure ghosts don’t hurt people is our job.  So is keeping you safe.”

The irony.  If only Danny got paid, he could say the same thing.  Alas, it was not to be.  

He nodded and smiled.  No promises.  “I think I’m going to go up to bed, now, if that’s okay?”

“Alright,” said Maddie.  “Do you still want to go to school tomorrow?  Everyone would understand if you didn’t.”

“Yeah.  I just- It wasn’t that big of a deal.  I want things to go back to normal.”

.

“Wow,” said Tucker, pointing at Danny.  “That is not normal.”

“What’s not normal?” asked Danny, looking down at himself.  Had he spilled something on his shirt without noticing?  It had happened before.  But, no. Everything looked just like it had when he put it on this morning.  

“You’re wearing black,” said Tucker.

Danny looked up and raised an eyebrow.  “Yeah.  So?”

“All black.”

“Okay, captain obvious.”  He turned to his locker and started putting in his combination. The hallway was just a little bit too crowded for him to feel comfortable phasing through the door to fish for his books.  

“You never wear all black.”

“That’s not true.  We all wore black at that Saints’ Fire concert just a couple of months ago.”

“Yeah, but that was for a concert.  Danny, you’re even wearing the boots Sam got you!”

“I know what I’m wearing, Tucker.  It’s just clothes.  Do we need our textbook for English today?  Or can I just bring Mockingbird?  I can’t remember the schedule.”

“Just Mockingbird.  Did something happen while you and Sam were in the Zone?”

“Yeah,” said Danny, honestly.  “A couple of things.  Got complicated.  That ghost is apparently Sam’s ancestor.  And also a witch.  Witches and magic are a thing, I guess.”

“You sure?  Could just be ghost powers,” said Tucker, momentarily distracted.  

“Pretty sure it’s magic,” said Danny.  

“Danny!  Tuck!”

The two boys turned to face Sam, who jogged up to them and then doubled over, hands on her knees.  

“Are you okay?” asked Danny, worried.  

“I wasn’t able to sleep,” said Sam.  “Too much energy.  You?”

“I slept normally.  Had to fight the Box Ghost at three, but,” he shrugged, “that’s normal.”

Sam straightened.  “We need to—” She stopped, blinking.  “You’re wearing black.”

“Yeah.”  Danny shrugged.

“Why?”

“You said I should?”

Tucker made a sound like a dying pterodactyl.  “Something happened!” he said, excitedly.  “They’re embracing their feelings.  I’m so honored to witness.”  Tucker proceeded to squeal.  

“Dude,” said Danny, “what is wrong with you?”  Then he glanced at Sam.

Sam looked like she had swallowed a lemon.  

Danny deflated.  “Are you okay?” he asked, leaning forward, concerned.  “I mean, other than not having slept.”

“We really need to talk.”

“Aw, come on, Sam, you can’t end your romance before it even begins,” said Tucker in a singsong voice.

The warning bell went off.  

“Lunch, I guess?” asked Danny.  

“Sure.”

.

They sat down in their usual spot behind the school, where no other students went because it was both out of the way and lacked anything resembling a comfortable place to sit.  Sam, Tucker, and Danny, however, had adapted.  

“So,” said Tucker, rubbing his hands together with glee.  “You have to tell me the details.  All the details.  What happened?  Are you guys dating now?  How did you get de-liquified?  That really freaked me out, by the way.”

Sam put her hands over her face and groaned. “No, we’re not dating.  Ugh.  How do I even explain what’s going on?”

Danny jumped in.  “Sam’s witch ancestor did something weird to my powers and wouldn’t let us go until we did a ritual that, uh, sort of bound me to Sam as a familiar spirit.  Also, she wants Sam to be her apprentice.  So, we have that to look forward to.”  He fished his sandwich out of his bag.  

“Wow,” said Tucker.  “I have no idea how to respond to that.”

“That was a lot more concise than I expected,” said Sam.  

“It hits all the important points, though. Except for the de-liquification.  If I’m being honest, I’m not entirely sure how that happened.”

“Right,” said Sam.  “Anyway, we have to figure out how to undo it.”

Danny choked on his sandwich.  “What?  Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why?’” demanded Sam, clearly aggrieved.  

Danny furrowed his brow.  “I know we didn’t do it under the—”

“Word of advice, man, whatever you did do, don’t phrase it as ‘do it.’  Unless this ritual thing involved—"

“Tucker?” said Sam, blushing furiously.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

“Got it.  Sorry.  I blame hormones.”

Danny had no idea what Tucker was talking about but decided not to ask.  Instead, he let out a quick puff of air.  “I know we didn’t want or ask for this, but it does seem to come with some benefits. Did you try out any of the spells in the books we took with us last night?”

“No, because the last one made me stick a needle in your eye!”

There was a fundamental misunderstanding happening here.  A disconnect. Danny tilted his head.  In moments like these, Spectra’s voice seemed to echo in his head.  He ignored it.

“I didn’t mind,” said Danny.  “I’ve been hurt worse.  Besides, they don’t all need you to stick a needle in my eye.  I read them, too, you know.”

“Do you not care about how you can’t lie to me?”

“No?  You already know all my big secrets, anyway.”  Danny didn’t know why Sam was so upset about this, but it was starting to make him anxious. His fingers had made deep impressions in his sandwich.  

“Wait,” said Tucker, “it does what?”

“Yeah!” said Sam, running an agitated hand through her hair.  “That’s not all, either.  Apparently, he has to follow all my commands, too, like I’m some kind of discount Freakshow!”

“This isn’t like Freakshow!” protested Danny.  “I didn’t have any choice about that!”

“You didn’t have any choice about this either,” said Sam, making a sweeping motion with her hands so violently that she rocked back on her heels.  “We were basically hostages.  You can’t tell me that you’re actually okay with this.”

“I am okay with it,” said Danny, taken aback by Sam’s vehemence.  “I like knowing that you’re safe, and, if you have powers, too, you can, you know, be safer. Also, it would be cool if there was someone else who had them, I guess.”  His sandwich was well and truly squished at this point.  “I was actually…  Earlier, I was thinking that it might be a good thing to see if Tucker can get in on this, too.”

“You’re joking,” said Sam, flatly.

“Dude, I think we’ve all seen that I do not handle power well.”

“No,” said Danny, shaking his head.  “I like this.  And I trust you.  Both of you.” His face twisted up.  “Maybe back when we started out, and you were talking about freeing zoo animals and wrecking Hummer dealerships I might have been a little apprehensive, but, even back then, I know you wouldn’t have made me do anything I didn’t want to do.  You guys let me overshadow you to practice.  This isn’t really any different.  Right?”

“Don’t look at me, man,” said Tucker, raising his hands.  “You two are the ones on the inside.”

Sam stared at Danny for a moment longer before pinching the bridge of her nose.  “We need to undo this,” she said, firmly.  

The edges of Danny’s eyes started to hurt, and he blinked them rapidly.  “Okay,” he said.  “If you want to.”  It did affect Sam, too, after all.  If she didn’t feel like she had consented, then undoing it really should have been a no-brainer.  

Danny really didn’t want to undo it.  He liked this.  He liked the way it made him feel.

“After school,” said Sam.  

“Okay,” whispered Danny, looking down at his destroyed sandwich.  “I guess I should get rid of this, huh?”

And then he ran.  

.

It would be wrong to say that Sam didn’t feel guilty.  She did. She felt hugely, incredibly guilty. Like she’d kicked a puppy.  

Thing was, she didn’t exactly have a choice.  Danny obviously wasn’t thinking clearly.  The ritual must have done something to his head beyond screwing with his free will.  

How could anyone be happy when they were forced into obedience?  

If they let this go on, Danny would eventually resent her more than she resented her parents.  After all, her parents didn’t have mind-control abilities.  

“Hey,” said Tucker, breaking the silence that had lain over them since they started the walk to Sam’s house.  “Not to be a downer, but what do we do if that ghost—”

“Vivian,” supplied Sam.  

“Vivian, right.  What do we do if she comes back and she wants you to do magic stuff?  Or she gets mad that you cut your connection? We didn’t do a super great job of fighting her last time.”

Danny shrugged, exhaustion evident in the curve of his spine.  “We do what we always do.  It won’t be the first time it takes us two tries to fight someone.”

“Strategies?” prompted Tucker.  

“I don’t know.  Maybe we can find some kind of weakness in those books… Though, she probably wouldn’t have let us take them if we could get her weakness from them. If all else fails, I guess we could chuck a bucket of water at her.”

“I hate to say it, but I doubt the Wizard of Oz is a good source for how to deal with witches,” said Tucker.  

“Well, considering all the other ways of ‘dealing with witches’ are literal torture, that’s all I’ve got.”  Danny’s words were clipped.  

Yeah.  He was mad.

“We could try some charms and stuff,” suggested Sam.

“Before or after we cut our bond?” asked Danny, no inflection in his tone.  “Because that might make the difference.”

“Danny, I’m just not comfortable having you as my slave.  Which is what this comes down to.”

“I know,” said Danny.  He still didn’t sound happy.  

They reached Sam’s house, and they all crowded into Sam’s room for the most intense study session ever.  Not counting Tucker’s post-Ember deprogramming.  

Sam started with the original book, the one the ritual had come from in the first place.  Reading it again made her so mad.  Mad enough that, at first, she didn’t notice her rapidly increasing heartrate. Not until she was pressing her hand against her chest and struggling for breath.  

“What,” she gasped, “was that?”

Danny shook his head, eyes wide and worried even as he kept his fingers wrapped securely around Sam’s wrist.  “I don’t know.  Whatever happened, though, your pulse is going back down.  What were you looking at?”

“Just the ritual from before…  I wanted to see if there were loopholes we could use,” said Sam, trying to get her breathing back under control.  

Tucker plucked the book from where it had fallen near Sam’s knee and scanned the page.  He winced.  “Hey, it says here that your side of the deal is giving Danny your heart.”

“Yeah?” said Sam.  

“Your heart, which just went crazy when you started trying to figure out a way to back out of the deal?”

Sam felt Danny’s hand contract around her wrist. “Oh,” he said.  “But I didn’t want that to happen.”  He sounded lost, hurt, and more than a little offended.

“I know, man,” said Tucker, soothingly, “but you don’t want the contract to be broken, either, right?”

“No,” admitted Danny.  “I’m sorry, I like it.”

“Yeah.  So,” said Tucker, “I guess it isn’t as one-sided as you thought, Sam.”  He made a face.  “What was your ‘promise,’ anyway?”

“To be friends,” said Danny.  “We thought that would cause the least amount of issues, in case there were penalties.”  He shrugged.

“Yeah, okay,” said Tucker.  “That makes sense.”

It did.  

This was bad.  

This was the worst-case scenario.  Sam bit down on her lip.  Danny was- It was like he was in a fog, as far as this thing went.  That’s the only way she could describe it.  There was no way he was seeing the situation clearly.  It didn’t matter if it was because of the familiar contract or Danny’s ghostly nature.

If Tucker was right and Sam had a heart attack every time she tried to do something about it…

Yeah.  That wasn’t good.  

“Maybe we should look at something else for today,” suggested Danny, far too cheerfully.  “Like, we should see if you can do some of these spells and how it affects us.  It seems like I’ve been feeding you energy somehow, right?”  He began paging through one of the books.  “That’s probably why you were awake all last night.  That’s going to be useful, I bet, and oh!  This one sounds cool.  We could make fog everywhere.  Just think about it, Sam.  We could be so spooky at night!”  He brought out the puppy dog eyes.  

“Ugh,” said Sam.  “Fine.”  She stabbed a finger at Tucker.  “You keep searching for a way out.”

The corners of Danny’s lips twitched downward at that, but sprang back up when Sam turned her attention to the spell he had picked out. Weakly, Sam smiled back.  

This was going to be hard.  

[efrmellifer]

Devoir

Etien’s entire face screwed up as the linkpearl’s distinctive chime greeted her ear.

“Do you remember when I used to complain about sleeping in sand? I’d sleep in sand if it meant I got to lie down and stay down. Hmm, Aymeric? Aymeric?” She pawed at the empty spot of mattress next to her. “Oh for the love of the Fury.”

At last, she remembered what had woken her, and opened the line. “Yes?” She was silent, eyes bouncing between spots on the wall across from her as she listened to the voice on the other end.

“Yes. I’ll be there.” The line closed, and Etien sighed. “Well, I knew it was going to end eventually.”

She rose from bed then, coming first to Landric’s cradle, cooing to him as she laid a hand on his stomach. “Oh, little man, you’ve been so quiet. Picking up Estinien’s stoicism already, is that it?”

Bundling him against her chest in one arm, she laid the other hand on Betula. “Betula,” she sang. When the bright green eyes popped open, Etien smiled. “Good morning, sweet pea.”

It was easier now, to trundle the twins up and into her arms to begin the morning’s tasks. First, their change, then cooking—to start with, food for herself, then a lunch for Aymeric.

It was the best way to ensure he ate, stopping by the Congregation and handing the box over.

Plus, the cooking gave her a chance to slot one or the other of the children into a sling across her body and let them nurse.

It usually worked pretty well, that one of them was full and asleep again by the time she was changing between what she was cooking, so she just eased them out and into a little crib in the corner, then got the other to eat while she kept at it on the stove.

The whole process for carrying them with her outside the home was more ridiculous-looking, even when it made just as much sense.

They slept side by side against her chest in a specially-designed carrier, draped under a fur-lined cloak so she could keep them and herself warm when she entered the chilly air of Ishgard.

She almost wished she'd been raising them in the Black Shroud, but then that would cause her to have dark, depressing wonderings about a life that could have been.

So no. She preferred keeping Betula and Landric draped in furs to stay warm, because that meant she was here, safe and warm and happy. And so, so loved.

She walked slowly, so as not to jostle and wake the babies, and made her way down the steps to Foundation that were just outside the manor’s door. Of course, it was a longer walk through the Brume, then, but she hoped the rhythm of her footsteps and her low hum kept her children soothed as she traversed the stones of their home.

“You’re going to visit your Da,” she whispered, “won’t that be fun?”

Etien was such a fixture in the Congregation now (and really, hadn’t she been for four years?) that she was waved directly to the door that led to Aymeric’s office, and let in right away, barring anything especially severe going on within beforehand.

So when the door clicked shut behind her, Aymeric looked up, and seeing that she wasn’t in distress, turned back to his work for a moment to complete his thought.

“Ah, the whole family came along,” he noted when he saw the thick drape over Etien.

“Well, not quite. In a funny twist, I was about to tell you—I think we’re going to need Estinien. Which means, Tataru’s been scouring for him extra-hard, and despite my not saying a peep about where he’s been, she’s about to hit Ishgardian permafrost pay-dirt.”

Aymeric rested his chin on his hand, chuckling. “After he tried so hard.”

“They found him once, they threatened that they would do it again. The Scions are people of their word, unfortunately.”

“Their? Not our?”

Etien shrugged, unbuttoning the shoulder of the cloak, but letting it hang on her still. “Am I a Scion?”

“You look like today you’re playing the role of Culinarian,” Aymeric remarked, gesturing to the parcel in her hand, its binding string clutched tight in her middle finger.

“Oh, this? I wanted to make sure you ate. In any event, the Scions are coming for hide and hair of the Azure Dragoon Emeritus, and I’m… needed at the Rising Stones. So I’m taking Betula and Landric to Toto and the Aldynns’ for the day. I figure you can pick them up tonight, if I’m not back?”

“Of course, my dearest.”

She smiled, laying down the box, then left Aymeric’s office.

It was with a heart just slightly heavy that Etien handed the infants over, but the care with which Toto took them eased the burden slightly.

Etien had known this day was coming, but now that it was here… she was just glad that she had family that would be able to help her with it. Maybe the yoke was only on her shoulders, but at least someone else was able to man the plow, metaphorically speaking.

She kissed Betula’s forehead, then Landric’s. “Be good for Aunt Toto,” she told them, “and then for your Da.” She looked up from them then. “Thank you, Toto. I… wish it wasn’t like this.”

They shared a look, and then Etien left, the points of her teeth sinking into her lip so she didn’t start crying.

She stood in front of the mirror as she dressed, watching as if it were someone else pulling up her tights and fastening the garters—Estinien had never commented, but look, now she wore garters—doing up the busks on her corset, buckling her belt. She smiled as she settled the crown of preserved flowers on her head—magicked to give her additional protection—and it was only halfway forced. She was happy to be wearing her battle gear again, and she had always felt a sense of pride in what she had long been calling “her colors.” The weren’t the Ishgardian colors of which Nanamo had spoken, which had been a Fortemps knight’s armor. They weren’t an Adder uniform, a Temple Knight’s regalia. They were the clothing of Etien Mellifer, Hydaelyn’s Champion and Scion of the Seventh Dawn. She guessed.

Warrior of Light, Bringer of Darkness. Amatrix et Bellatrix.

She took a deep breath, rolling her shoulders back as she settled her new bow between them.

It was a quick journey by aether between Ishgard and the Ala Mhigan Quarter, and it hadn’t left her enough time to reason when she entered the Alliance Meeting that it was, in fact, the Alliance. All of them.

“G’raha, sit across from the Lord Commander, would you?” Thancred asked.

Etien snorted, sitting to G’raha’s right, scooting in close to the table and then sighing when she realized that no matter how far she stretched her legs under it, the toe of her boot wouldn’t come into contact with Aymeric’s sabatons.

She already knew that, but the disappointment washed over her anew every time she tried.

Instead, she crossed her arms and sat back, batting her eyelashes at him.

“Not this time, either?” he asked her.

“Never,” she replied, deflating. “But that’s okay, I can always be the one to bring the tea around.” She winked, and Y’shtola snapped to get her attention.

With a huff, she leaned on the table, looking toward Urianger.

Aymeric hung around afterward, close to but not quite shadowing Etien while she talked to the other Scions.

Their greetings to her were remarkably understated, considering it had been months since they’d last seen her, but he tried not to be offended on her behalf. She was all business, stood with a hip cocked as they talked about what to do next, now that Lunar Bahamut had wreaked havoc in Ala Mhigo and now was doing much the same with the dragons of Meracydia.

He tipped his head in curiosity as Etien leaned into the gesture of answering her linkpearl, stepping back to get out of her way as she walked toward him, until she reached out with her free hand and took hold of his coat, holding him still.

He laid an arm around her back as she rested against him racked with… snickering? She covered her mouth as the corners of her eyes crinkled, and then she sobered up, letting go of Aymeric’s coat and responding to Tataru.

“Yes, if you just caught wind of him headed that way, then we’ll have to get there before he can set off again. Thank you for the update.”

Aymeric’s eyebrows rose as he finally met Etien’s eyes.

Estinien, she mouthed, “they’ve found him, apparently. Heading to Ishgard.”

“Wasn’t he just—?”

She shushed him. “We know that.”

They turned toward each other to hide the laughter that pealed through them.

Alphinaud came to their sides just as they’d collected themselves again, instructing Etien to tell Tataru to send the Bonanza to Ishgard, in case they had to chase down Estinien.

Silly little Scions. If only they knew how to properly convince him.

Then again, they couldn’t ask so nicely as she could, could they?

Still, Alphinaud was already walking off, ready to go, so Etien sighed. She turned back to Aymeric. “I go in search of our third half. I imagine I’ll beat you to Ishgard, and be run off my feet, so…” She looked around, her ears tipping back to hear if anyone important was behind her before she stepped closer to Aymeric. Her tail flicked back and forth once, twice, before she pounced to press a kiss to his lips, taking him utterly by surprise. “I’ll see you later, darling,” she said when her heels had hit the stones again.

And with the glimmer of aether as she finished her incantation, she was gone.

_

Etien shook her head as she entered the Congregation again.

“Hello, Lucia,” she said said with a tired exhale. “Have you seen Estinien?”

“We were not aware he had returned to Ishgard,” she replied. “But as I expect you remember, he is wont to come and go as he pleases.”

“Oh, none know it better than I, save one,” Etien remarked, already heading back to the door. “Thank you anyroad.”

That left the others a little time to find him while she went to the airship landing, at least.

So she was surprised to find them all waiting there already.

“Did you find him?”

Alisaie was the first to admit that none of them had had any luck.

When G’raha commented that he expected more excitement for the return of the Azure Dragoon, Etien bit her lip to stay silent.

Eventually she got out a noncommittal “these are odd times.”

The sound of footsteps, marked with a familiar jingle of armor saved her from having to elaborate, so she looked up, already smiling up at him.

She was so happy to see him. Even if it hadn’t been as long for her as it was others.

Her eyes were slowly widening as some mix of the Coerthan air and shock froze her in place as she watched him attempt to ruffle Alisaie’s hair, telling her that it had been too long… Alphinaud.

Oh no.

She didn’t even have time to form her rebuttal to the idea that she had been teaching “Alphinaud” to be strong and silent, she was so busy trying to make sure she would stay rooted to her spot when Alisaie went more explosive than Magitek cannons.

Etien’s eyes were starting to freeze around the edges from how wide open they were.

But she blinked and gave a sheepish smile when Estinien turned to her, asking pointedly for an explanation.

Alisaie stepped closer, watching Etien as she gazed at Estinien and Alphinaud talking.

“Maybe he sees them—Estinien and Arenvald—as the brothers he never had,” Etien replied to Alisaie’s story about how Alphinaud refused to make friends with other boys.

“It hasn’t been easy being his sister,” Alisaie huffed.

Etien hummed. “Hmm. Aye, but it’s never easy being a sibling, is it?”

_

On the airship to Azys Lla, they stayed in small clusters; Alphinaud, Alisaie, and G’raha all stood together toward the back, while Etien and Estinien stood side by side nearer to the bow, the wind lifting the ends of their hair as they went.

“Are they...easy to tell apart?” Estinien whispered, leaning down to speak directly into Etien’s swiveling ear, so he could be heard over the wind.

She laughed aloud then, the sound carrying all the way to the stern.

“I think they are, but I’ve spent far more time with them. With bothof them. If nothing else, you have their earrings to go by. Or weapons, on the battlefield. If the Leveilleur you’re looking at has a sword, it’s Alisaie. And she’ll use it on you if you don’t get it right.”

Estinien chuckled. “I shall defer to your extensive experience and will not try it for myself.”

Azys Lla wasn’t far off now, so they grew somber again, preparing for what they had to do there.

_

It would be hard for Etien’s heart to soften further toward the First Brood orEstinien, but when he said that he felt at least somewhat responsible for Tiamat’s welfare, seeing as Nidhogg was part of him… she did feel something shift for the gentler.

She wished he’d done the same as he talked to her, but that just wouldn’t be Estinien, would it?

No matter. They learned of the Bahamut that came before his calamitous return, and Tiamat wasn’t tempered anymore.

There was—and Etien figured that she shouldn’t have been surprised, at this stage in the game—more to be done. More for her to do.

To Paglth’an they went, by way of Ul’dah.

_

When Aymeric had heard that the Scion contingent had indeed tracked down Estinien, and that they had gone from Azys Lla to Ul’dah, he wanted to breathe a sigh of relief. But he knew what that meant. Worse, he was moments from heading the same way himself.

He too had offered his apologies to Toto, and told his children to be good for their aunt.

But now, it was time to clear a path for the Warrior of Light and her helpers.

He offered his prayers to Halone for guidance, and set out, Lucia at his side.

_

There was hardly time to sight-see, when she was fighting Magitekand Meracydian dragons, but Etien remembered this had once been home to a dear friend of hers. Like the verdant beauty of Alder Springs did to Etien, these fields may have evoked a heart-aching nostalgia. So she tried to tread lightly as she ran headlong into fulfilling her duty. Stopping the havoc being wreaked on these lands, eliminating the threat of Lunar Bahamut.

When she thought about it, there was a poetic tragedy to the places he had laid waste to so far, to the sorrow it must have left, but she put it out of her mind. That wasn’t her song to sing.

She winced, her attempts to walk softly abated without her say-so when she’d skidded to a stop in shock.

She hadn’t expected to see himhere. But she was a woman now, with obligations past just seeingthe morrow, and at least one of the three of them needed to make it out of there. So she simply gasped, rather than calling out.

It was safer that way.

Maybe Aymeric wouldn’t even know she was here.

But that wasn’t to be. They simply knew these things, it seemed. It had been the same in Ghimlyt. They had found each other then, too.

He stayed close, not so close that he would get in Etien’s way (she did have such an odd dance with her bow, when she was really lost to it), but near enough to her that he had managed to keep her safe, to distract the imperial soldier that had been bearing down on her too fast for her to run from.

And when they, and Estinien, and their comrades had cleared the area, Aymeric turned to tend to the wounded on the edges of the pathway.

“Go!” He’d called to Etien, seeing her pause out of the corner of his eye. “I will see them to safety. You’re needed elsewhere.”

He heard her come to her knees next to him more than he saw it, though he felt it just as quickly, when her hand came to rest on his arm.

“If anything happens to you or Estinien,” she began, swallowing. He could see her heart thudding just under her necklace, the pendants leaping with every beat. “If anything happens, Fandaniel won’t need to wait for Zenos to kill him.”

She stood up, her boots crunching in the sand and shrapnel around them, and started running after Thancred.

Ever dutiful, even when her body cried out otherwise. He sighed, hoisting the injured soldier up, arm over his shoulders.

It wasn’t him, him or Estinien, that she needed to worry about. He watched her, bright blue and bronze in the twilight, growing smaller the further she got away from him.

Growing smaller as she went to where was needed… away from where he needed her.

[schrijverr]

Revealing Outfit

Jon invites Martin to stay with him for the weekend, because he felt bad about MArtin having to stay in the Acrhives (no he did not have a crush, shut up). His Mechs outfit is still lying there when they arrive and Martin sees it, causing Jon to accidentally invite him to a concert. 

Bit pre-slash and getting together :)

On AO3.

Ships: JonMartin

Warnings: none really, Jon’s a little praise starved. Tell me if you want me to tag something and I will!

~~~~~~~~~

Jon was trying to be better. He knew he had been an asshole to Martin ever since they were moved to the Archives all because he would rather ignore the flutter in his heart and mistake it for irritation at the bumbling, clumsy, adorable, uhm, awkward man.

But, like he said, he was trying to be better. He had stopped insulting Martin at every turn and tried to be nice when the other made a mistake. Especially now that Martin was forced to live in the Archives. Jon felt terrible he hadn’t noticed his own assistant had been taken hostage for two weeks, which is probably why he had offered Martin his couch for the night.

Yes, The Jonathan ‘keep everything separate and professional’ Sims had offered Martin to stay at his place for a few days.

He hadn’t known what had gotten over him when he offered (that was a lie, of course, he knew. Martin had looked so sad? Deflated? At the thought of being alone in the Archives for the weekend again and Jon couldn’t bear it, but that was neither here nor there). The point is, he offered and through a terribly awkward misunderstanding and a quick coming out as asexual, Martin had gladly taken him up on his offer.

Which is how they’d ended up in this situation.

Honestly, Jon had forgotten he had left his outfit so out in the open. He hadn’t expected visitors when he had put it there, so it wasn’t such a stretch it had slipped his mind, but it was awfully embarrassing right now.

A little bit of backstory is perhaps required, you see, Jonathan Sims had a life outside his work, to contrary belief. And it wasn’t even a boring one. He was in a band, a steampunk band of immortal space pirates.

It was just something fun he did with friends and they had quite a dedicated following. They had a small performance this weekend (which Jon hadn’t at all forgotten about when he had offered Martin a place to stay, just to make him smile at Jon) and he had taken his costume to the dry cleaner, because it had gotten soaked in a mixture of sweat and beer last time, which didn’t make for an appealing smell.

He hadn’t taken the time to put it away, finding it useless when he had to get it later anyway. Instead he had hung it over his chair and laid the rest of his costume with it. The outfit was obviously not Jons usual work clothes. The steampunk vest and goggles vastly different than his librarian style cardigans. Which was why Martin had immediately pinpointed as odd when he’d seen it.

Without really thinking about it, he had lifted the article of clothing and frowned at it, before he heard Jon let out a startled cough and he dropped it like it burned, while apologizing.

When Jon was done with his coughing fit he said with pinched voice: “It’s alright, Martin. I left it there.”

“Still, I shouldn’t have just grabbed it. That is highly inappropriate.” Martin insisted.

Wanting to get the clothes out of the way before Martin could get a better look at them, Jon gathered them in his arms quickly and made his way out of the room as he assured Martin that it was really alright.

After he had fled the scene, Jon dropped his costume unceremoniously on the chair in the corner of his room, which also functioned as a closet since it always got covered in clothes throughout the weeks. He sighed in relief that he had made it, until he noticed one part was missing of his ensemble.

His goggles.

He must have dropped them in his haste to get everything out of Martins eyes. Panicked he turned around, hoping they were lying on his bedroom floor. But alas, no such luck was on his side. When he got back to the living room, he found Martin holding them in his hand as he looked at them curiously.

Jon swallowed and Martin met his eyes. Wordlessly he held out his hand and carefully Martin laid it down on Jons palm. Once the object was out of his hands, it seemed Martin regained his ability to speak and he asked: “Why do you have that?”

Immediately his brain caught up with his mouth and he stumbled out: “Not that you have to tell me, of course. No, I was just asking. Doesn’t seem your style. Not that I can judge, sorry.”

Jon cut him off, before it got more embarrassing for both of them. Only then he realized he now had to give at least some explanation, especially since he was going to disappear this weekend and stay out until late, leaving Martin alone in his flat.

Fuck.

This whole thing had been a terrible idea and Jon suddenly remembered why he kept everything nicely separated.

He floundered for a second, then he carefully chose his words: “I, uhm, I had forgotten actually that I had something this weekend, uhm, old uni friends. I, I- I needed to give those back to one of them.”

Internally he cringed at the vague and partially untrue statement. I mean, technically they were uni friends, but this wasn’t going to be that casual and although some of his friends did own goggles in a similar style, those were definitely his own.

“Oh,” Martin replied, “I can still go back to the Archives if that’s better. I wouldn’t want to impose and I assume you wouldn’t want someone you barely know in your flat while you’re gone.”

Jon has never claimed he is not a stupid man and what he did next only cemented that. Martin was already inching back towards the door, face crestfallen. And Jon, Jon quickly said: “Oh no, it really isn’t a problem. You can come if that’ll make you more comfortable.”

A heavy silence hung between them as both processed the words that had just come out of Jons mouth. Jon realized how weird and personal that sounded and he was about to take it all back when Martin said: “If it isn’t a problem, I think I’d like that.”

The retreat died on Jons lips with Martins agreement and smile. Jon just smiled back and said: “Alright, I’ll let them know. It’s going to be pretty loud, I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, thank you. It’ll be good for me to listen to something else than the silence of the Archives for a change.” Martin chuckled, but Jon caught the underlying truth and decided that he couldn’t back down from this, no matter how mortifying it was.

Then he realized how rude he had been and quickly showed Martin to his kitchen where started on some tea. The goggles were still dangling around his wrist and when Martin noticed he told him to put them away, before he damaged them and said he’ll finish the tea.

Grateful for the breather, Jon slipped out the room and into his bedroom where he send a frantically whispered voice recording in the Mechanisms groupschat: “I did something stupid, I accidentally invited a coworker to our show, but I didn’t tell him about anything and he doesn’t know and he’ll find out and it’ll be weird, but I can’t go back now and I don’t know what to do and I need help.”

To avoid suspicion he put his phone away and hurried back to the kitchen. There he had to do a double take, because Martin was sat at his table with two mugs, gently sipping from his cup as he scrolled through his phone.

It was oddly domestic and Jon had to swallow away a lump.

The sound alerted Martin of his presence and he looked up and smiled at him, gesturing at the tea opposite of him. This didn’t help the lump. He silently sat down and started to sip his tea to avoid conversation.

Martin seemed to pick up on it and he stayed quiet as well. They stayed like that for the rest of the afternoon, just sitting together in silence while they did their own thing. Jon broke it to ask Martin what he wanted from the pizza place and then they had a heated discussion when Martin wanted pineapple on his.

They ate on the couch and watched a documentary and Jon could almost forget that this wasn’t his life and it wouldn’t all come crashing down tomorrow.

After that he made up the couch and he and Martin brushed their teeth together. It was peaceful, kind of nice and if Jon had to admit it he missed this in his life. Before he retired to his room Martin called out a soft thanks along with a goodnight from the couch.

Jon returned it equally softly and with a smile. A smile that fell when he was met with the sight of his outfit in the corner. He checked his phone only to find his so called friends laughing at him and offering little support.

He slept little that night, lying anxiously awake, mulling over everything that would go down tomorrow. Only coming out of bed late after he finally fell into a fitful sleep.

Martin was already dressed, when Jon stumbled out in an oversized sweater with small short pajama bottoms. Jon yawned sleepily and rubbed his eyes as he excepted a cup of tea from a heavily blushing Martin.

Once Jon had taken a sip, he realized what the sudden appearance of tea meant and his eyes snapped wide open as he met Martins eyes. He swallowed and looked down at his own state of dress. Then he mumbled: “Sorry, I’m going to get some better bottoms.”

And hurried out of the room, unknowingly giving Martin to compose himself as he tried to imprint the image of sleep ruffled Jon in those pajamas in his mind.

When Jon returned he was dressed in his normal librarian clothes. During the night he had resolved to tell Martin as late as possible what was going to happen, so he would get dressed at the bar where the Mechanisms would be performing.

The rest of the day passed relatively normal. Martin had retreated to the couch with a notebook, while Jon was sitting in the kitchen with some statements, later leaving them in favour of reading on the couch next to Martin in silence.

Then it was time to leave and the nervousness grew inside Jon as they walked towards the little pub. They were pretty early, since Jon wanted to avoid any fans that would throw a wrench in his plan. Inside the others were already setting up. Jon stopped Martin, wanting to tell him what would be happening, before the others could do it for him.

Martin shot him a confused look and Jon came clean: “So, I might have undersold and lied a bit about what is happening, but you have to promise not to tell the others about this. Tim will never let me live this down, please.”

“I don’t- What are talking about Jon?” Martin asked, distressed.

“It’s nothing bad.” Jon assured him, “I’m going to get you settled at a good calm table and you’re going to be fine. I promise.”

“Jon.” Martin did not sound pleased.

“I’m preforming, with my uni band.” Jon blurted out.

“What?” Martin exclaimed.

Jon explained further: “I didn’t want you to ask me questions and stuff, so I lied and then I invited you and I got nervous and I was too afraid to tell you, so I kept it hidden. I’m sorry. You can still go back, I’ll give you my keys.”

Martin hesitated, but they were spotted and Gunpowder Tim called out: “Jonny, there you are! Come on, you need to get dressed and in makeup if you want this to go through. Here, introduce us to your friend.”

Jon looked back to Martin, who nodded. Jon shot him a smile and lead him to the stage, where he quickly introduced everyone. When everything seemed to be going well, he pointed to the table Martin could go sit at, before he left them and slipped away to get in costume.

He was done moments before they had to go on stage. Ashes nodded at him and grinned: “Your friend seems nice. Well informed.”

“Oh shove off.” Jon replied, embarrassed.

But there wasn’t time for more, since it was time to get out there. The Mechanisms stepped onto the stage and all the anxiety slipped from shoulders along with his normal life as he morphed into Jonny d’Ville, Captain (First Mate.)

“Well, I’ll say one thing for this planet, it does produce some spectacularly ugly people.” he started, creating the normal banter with the crowd, he went on: “Killers and vagabonds, liars and thieves. We are the Mechanisms, a band of immortal space pirates roving through the universe on the starship Aurora, having fun wherever possible, violence when necessary and if were very lucky both at the same time.”

He scanned the crowd filled with smiling faces and desperately ignored the corner he knew Martin was in. He didn’t let it show though, as he went on: “Allow me a brief moment of self indulgence to introduce to you, the crew of our mighty starship.”

Jon gestured to the side as he started to introduce everyone next to him on the stage, until he got to himself: “And last, but the opposite of least, myself. Jonny d’Ville, your humble Captain.”

The crowd along with the band corrected him and he grinned, shedding the last bit of nervousness over who he know was in the corner watching as well.

With the adrenaline pumping through him and the energy of the crowd feeding into his confidence, Jon was in high spirits after the very successful performance. He had chatted with some fans that had hung around, but now the pub was mostly empty. The other were packing up and were chatting idly when what Jon had known would happen, but also dreaded, happened.

Martin walked up to him.

Sitting on the edge of the stage, Jon didn’t move, just swallowed heavily as he waited to see the anger in Martins eyes after he’d been lied to and forced to sit through such a strange thing as this. Jon was sure Martin must be weirded out. He knew it wasn’t everyones taste and most didn’t get it and that was okay.

It was okay, if it wasn’t Martin.

Fiddling with his vest, he kept looking to the ground until a familiar set of shoes appeared in his sight. Preparing himself for the worst, he winced a bit as he met Martins eyes, only to be pleasantly surprised at the smile along with the excitement in Martins eyes as he exclaimed: “That was amazing!”

Jon blinked for a second, then he bashfully asked: “You really thought so?”, all the confidence of Jonny d’Ville disappearing.

Martin nodded and said: “Yeah, I loved it. I’ve always been pretty text orientated, so having a full story with great music is something I didn’t know I needed until now, but I definitely did.”

With the praise a smile appeared on Jons face (he was just happy Martin didn’t hate him for lying. It wasn’t at all that Jon desperately wanted to know he had done well and that his heart fluttered with the slightest praise, especially from Martin. I don’t know where you got that idea).

“I’m glad.” was all he managed in return.

Their eyes stayed locked for a long moment after that and they only noticed when Tim called out: “Jonny, we’re done here, you gonna get something to drink with us.”

Jon looked back at his fellow bandmates, then at Martin, before looking back again. He shook his head and yelled back: “No, I think I’m going home. I’m pretty tired. It was fun seeing you.”

“Okay, bye, Jonny.” Ashes said.

The sentiment was echoed and returned. As the other filed out, Jon looked back at Martin and whispered: “I should probably wipe the makeup off or get out of this outfit at least.”

“I don’t know, I think it suits you.” Martin said, before his eyes grew wide and he spluttered something incomprehensible.

Wanting to please him, Jon said: “Thank you, I think I left my makeup wipes at home anyway, so I just have to hope I don’t run into anyone else I know.”

Martin looked up at him and smiled. He waited as Jon gathered his normal clothes and haphazardly threw them into his bag. Before he left, he looked into the mirror self-consciously. His dark hair was braided, grey streaks running through the interwoven hair. Perched on top of his head were the goggles and around his eyes was black lighting. He had black jeans on and a white shirt with a light brown vest over it. He had too many belts wrapped around him, with a golden ornament over his heart and a holster with fake gun by his hip.

Out of context he looked like an idiot, but Martin liked it, so he breathed in and walked out to where Martin was waiting. He threw his coat on over it and together they walked back. Jon was happy he lived near the pub, so the walk was short.

During the walk Martin filled the air with chatter about the performance. Jon wished he could blame the cold instead of the compliments for his read cheeks, but the weather was quite nice.

Once they were inside Jon switched his persona's clothes for his pajamas, this time he did put on longer pajama bottoms immediately. He wiped his face clean and when he looked into the mirror just plain Jonathan Sims looked back and the anxiety began creeping up again.

Slowly and unsure he made his way back to the couch where Martin was sat at. When he entered Martin looked up and Jon swallowed as he tried to smile back, but he probably couldn’t manage more than a grimace. Martin didn’t seem to mind, just offered him a cup of tea.

Timidly Jon sipped his tea and didn’t bother to start a conversation, dreading what the conversation would be about. It seemed Martin picked up on his unease, but he didn’t know what it would be about, so to try and ease the tenseness in Jons shoulders he said: “I have to say this was not what I expected when I think about how you were in uni.”

“No?” Jon asked curiously, not wanting to be the one to fill the silence.

“Not that it’s bad thing.” Martin told him, “Just- well, uhm, no offense, but you can be kind off stuck up from time to time. And that’s fine, but then you don’t really assume this.”

He gestured with his hand to encompass the Mechanisms.

Jon chuckled slightly at that, relaxing bit by bit when Martin didn’t suddenly backpedal and hate him anyway. He shrugged and said: “I can’t fault you for that, really. You are mostly right, I was pretty studious and probably a bit pretentious. The Mechs was my spot to let go and just have fun, you know. I don’t like to advertise it, it isn’t really professional.”

Martin was quiet for a moment, then he said: “Thank you for sharing it.” then he gasped, “Oh my, I hope I didn’t force you or anything! I didn’t mean to.”

“Martin, Martin, I invited you.” Jon said, trying to calm him, but also dreading what might come.

“Yes, but.” Martin began, “But you only did so, because I was being awkward about it, you shouldn’t had to.”

“No, I invited you.” Jon insisted, “I made that choice, it isn’t your fault.” then he bashfully went on: “Besides, I don’t mind you knowing.”

It was silent for a moment as the two met one another's eyes and stared as they started to breath in sync due to close proximity. Then Martin swallowed and looked away as he asked: “You don’t?”

“No.” Jon forced out, “You, you are, uhm.”

Jon didn’t know how to go on, so he rubbed his temples and sighed with frustration. He clenched his eyes shut and allowed the pressure to calm him. Then he met Martins inquisitive eyes and the flush retook his face. He stumbled out: “You’re kind, Martin. I know, I’ve been harsh on you and I’m sorry about that. I know you wouldn’t judge anyone over something like this and you don’t deserve to live in the Archives and I should have noticed and I didn’t. I’m so sorry about this and this is the least I could do to make it up to you and I don’t mind you being here. You’re a good person.”

He finished his rant. Martin blinked in confusion a few times as he processed everything. Then he carefully said: “Thank you, I guess. Uhm, that’s quite a lot, sorry. Let me just- uhm, give me a moment, please.”

“Of course, apologies.” Jon said.

“You didn’t invite me out of pity, did you?” Martin asked, sadness on his face.

Jon hated to see the sad expression on Martins face and he quickly shook his head and answered: “No, no, I didn’t. I did it, because I like you.”

Immediately after he clasped his mouth shut, but the words had already tumbled out and he couldn’t stop them. For a moment they hung heavy in the air. At the same time they spoke: “You like-” “Forget about it-” “-me?” “-I’m sorry.”

Then in union they said: “What?”

Martin repeated his question: “You like me?”

Jon was now resembling more a beetroot than a person. He silently nodded then said: “Yes, I’m sorry that was highly unprofessional of me. I didn’t mean to tell you, sorry. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s not making me uncomfortable.” Martin rushed to assure him, “I just didn’t think you even found me an acceptable person.”

Jon winced and curled a bit into himself. What he had already known about himself and hadn’t wanted to admit was out in the open and if he wanted to explain he would have to admit another thing to himself and Martin. Something that would also open up the possibility in the back of his mind, something about the feeling he was being watched.

But for Martin he would admit it, so he did: “I, uhm, I know I am not the best person when it comes to emotions and I hid behind irritation instead of admitting it. Sorry, I know that is no excuse.”

Then the most unexpected thing happened: Martin started laughing. It wasn’t malicious or mean spirited, but Jon didn’t know how to react, so he snapped: “What’s so funny?”

Martin composed himself and said: “Sorry, it’s just, it’s just- I’ve been trying so hard to get your attention and approval only to find out I already had, but you’re just terrible at expressing it and all it took was a performance by a band of immortal space pirates for it to come to light.”

When Martin put it like that Jon had to admit it was pretty funny, he chuckled lightly then the rest of the statement caught up and he stopped laughing. He looked at Martin and asked: “You’ve been trying to get me to notice you?”

His voice was vulnerable, just like Martins when he answered: “Yes, it’s embarrassing, really, but yes.”

Jon took a deep breath, then he said: “Martin, uhm, would you like to accompany me to a date somewhere next week? A proper one?”

Martin agreed with a smile and Jon silently thanked the murderous alter ego he had created to have some fun in uni for helping him open this conversation.

The rest of the night they spend talking and when they came into work together they had established a comfortable companionship between themselves. The other assistants immediately noticed the shift in dynamics between the two, but when Tim asked Martin about it all he replied was: “Nothing happened, I went to a concert that’s all.”

[the-hidden-writer]

A Second Chance: Chapter 2

An Ace Attorney fanfic. Read on both AO3 and FF.net!

Summary: Miles learns the identity of his "dead" mother, and the aftermath of that revelation is a tricky one. Especially when his newfound little sister is trying to turn him into a spirit medium.

AKA Miles is a Fey. Miles also doesn't really know how to family properly.

[Chapter 1] | [Chapter 3]

Comments make my day! :D

The Sisters

Straightening himself and brushing non-existent dirt off his coat, Miles knocked on the door of Wright & Co. Law Offices. There was a buzzer, but Phoenix had requested him to knock instead. That way he wouldn’t freak out at an unexpected client.

It also meant he could take his time to answer the door.

Miles would never admit to being impatient… okay, he was. But this time he wouldn’t mind stalling. He kept his gaze on his shoes and tightened the grip on his briefcase.

He’d called in sick that day (per Gumshoe’s very adamant request) and had spent the morning thinking and composing himself. Also, he had been trying to work up the courage to come here. Once he’d made up his mind (and hadn’t changed it on the way to the car), he hadn’t bothered changing into something professional. So there he was in his white shirt, black overcoat, and brown trousers (he’d called them as such in front of Wright once, and the man had exclaimed “Jesus how much more British can you get?!”... he’d felt self-conscious about them after that). He felt like wearing his prosecutor’s suit may ruin the image of an older brother.

An older brother.

He couldn’t help but feel agitated, knowing he was the only one who knew the secret thus far. Well, apart from Gumshoe, but he hardly counted. He’d already spent too long thinking about Maya and Phoenix’s reaction that he didn’t want to waste any more of his heart going down that road again.

Finally, Phoenix answered the door. “Hi Edgeworth!” He said, with that charming smile he always seemed to wear.

“Good afternoon, Wright.”

He noticed that Phoenix look him over. He’d never come to their office in casual clothes before. He tried not to shuffle awkwardly, but thankfully Wright invited him in before he got the chance.

He had never been very good with people.

“What’s up?” Phoenix asked, once inside. He motioned for Miles to take off his coat, so he did and handed it to him.

Damn. This wasn’t the time to blush.

“Hey, are you okay? You look exhausted even for you.”

Wright looked genuinely concerned.

“I’m fine, thank you. I was working until rather late last night, that’s all. I’m not working today though.” Miles added after Phoenix raised his eyebrows.

What he couldn’t tell him was that he hadn’t slept a wink last night. He’d shooed Gumshoe away almost immediately after he’d calmed down, but it took a lot of convincing to get the detective to trust him to be alone. Every single second, right until morning, was spent thinking about his life, how it would have differed if he’d known the truth, and how he was supposed to announce the news that he was Misty Fey’s son.

“Wanna go get coffee or something? Or we could watch something, I’m not that busy.”

“Actually,” He said apologetically when Phoenix gestured towards the scruffy blue couch. “I’m here to talk to Miss Fey.”

If Wright tried to hide the disappointment on his face, he didn’t do a very good job.

“Oh… sure! She’s in the room over there.” He pointed to one of the few identical white doors. “I’ll come with you.”

“Um, actually,” Miles hated to break the man’s heart like this, but it was necessary. “Could we have some privacy? It’s rather important.”

Phoenix looked at the briefcase, and then back at Miles.

“That important, huh?”

A deflated Phoenix Wright was a scary thing.

“Sure. I’ll be here I guess… let me know if you guys need anything.”

Miles shot him a look of sympathy. “Thank you. But I’m warning you that it might take a while.”

Phoenix just nodded, that familiar smile returning, and then turned to continue… scrubbing the floorboards? Was he really that addicted to cleaning as the rumours said?

He took it as a sign to leave.

Gathering all of his courage, he entered the room.

Maya Fey was sitting at a small wooden table, engrossed in her work arranging… Limited Edition Steel Samurai Season 2 Silver Trading Cards?! He sincerely hoped his jealousy and awe didn’t show.

Alas, it did, and his eyes lit up. He had to refrain himself from asking about them.

Maybe this whole sibling thing wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Hey Edgeworth! What are you doing here?”

Maya was always so positive and cheerful. Miles had an awful feeling that he was about to shatter all of that.

“Good afternoon Miss Fey.” He replied, and suddenly the finalized speech that he had spent all night learning (yes, there had been many drafts) disappeared from his mind.

He blanked. And panicked.

With a deep breath, he knew he would have to improvise. He was a prosecutor for goodness sake, he knew how to think on his feet!

“I, um, came to talk to you about something. It’s important.”

The difference with improvising in court is that he could feign confidence. For some reason, he couldn’t do that here.

Luckily for him, Maya took the hint.

“Oh… okay.” She said, her smile wavering ever so slightly. She motioned towards the chair opposite to her. “Here, you can sit down if you want.”

“Thank you.”

As he sat himself down, he carefully placed his briefcase onto the table. Maya watched his movements like a hawk.

“So, er,” He began cautiously, “we searched Misty Fey’s residence.”

“Yeah, I heard.” Was all Maya said, then suddenly she opened her mouth in confusion. “Detective Gumshoe already brought me a whole box full of stuff this morning!”

He couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that. This may be the first time the detective acted so quickly. Well, the first time he ever succeeded in doing so.

Flashbacks of the horrid crunch of a car crash over the phone came to mind. He cleared his throat to try and rid himself of those particular memories. “That wasn’t the only box he found.”

“Really?” Maya’s eyes lit up. “What else is there?”

Miles sighed. It was now or never.

“Before I tell you, I would like to ask: what do you know about your father?”

This obviously took Maya by surprise.

“Oh… pretty much nothing, I guess. My Sis didn’t really remember him that well and said Mom never talked about him either.” She looked at him with a sudden determination. “Why? Is it to do with him? Do you know who he is?!”

“I-” He wasn’t sure how to answer. “He died. A long time ago. Not long after you were born, I’d imagine.”

As quickly as it arrived, Maya’s excitement died. Just perfect- he’d managed to crush the spirits of Phoenix Wright and Maya Fey in the span of 10 minutes.

Maya looked more miserable by the second. Time to move on.

He opened his leather briefcase. “Here, I’d like you to have a look at this picture.”

After warily taking out the picture of his- no, their parents, he handed it to her.

He hadn’t brought the entire box since he wasn’t ready to share that with the world, however, he’d brought certain items that would have served as evidence for his speech. But since the speech had been abandoned…

“That’s Mom!” She exclaimed, and he understood what she was experiencing. They’d lost their parents at a young age, albeit by different methods, and when Miles had first seen that picture he’d immediately focused on his own father. After having a very limited collection of photos to look at over the years, any new ones became a treasure.

Then Maya’s focus shifted onto the other person in the picture.

“Is that my Dad?” She asked quietly.

Miles nodded, preparing himself for that dreaded conversation. He may have forgotten his speech, but he’d faced worse in court. He could do this.

“Woah, he’s so handsome!”

What.

“Mom had good taste at least. I bet she was so sad to have to send him away!”

Maya’s enthusiasm had returned full swing, and she was practically clapping her hands with excitement.

“I, er-”

“They look so happy together!” She continued, oblivious to the heat in Miles’ cheeks. “Aw, this beats anything I could’ve imagined!”

Finally tearing her gaze away from the photograph, she looked up at Miles to see if he was sharing her joy. He wasn’t. He was confused, mostly.

Then Maya’s jaw dropped slightly. She looked down at the photo, then back at Miles. Photo, then him. Photo again, Miles again.

She laughed. “He looks a lot like you, y’know!”

Miles held his breath as the penny dropped.

Her head snapped down to study the picture again, and her grin began to wobble. “Wait is that…”

He stayed silent.

“H- That’s why he looked so familiar…” she whispered. “I remember that picture.”

Knowing exactly what picture she was talking about, Miles shuddered. It was the only photo she could have seen. The photo of his father's corpse, lying in that cursed elevator, blood streaming out of his gunshot wound. The photo that still haunted him to that day, despite knowing he wasn’t the cause of it.

Now it would haunt Maya too. He suddenly felt cruel.

She eventually looked back up at him. “My dad is Gregory Edgeworth?”

He nodded slowly.

“But that would mean-”

Miles brought up a finger to shush her. “Hold on a moment.” He said as he rummaged through his briefcase for the other photograph he’d brought, before handing it over to let her examine it.

It was a smaller photo that had been lying underneath the letter, so he hadn’t discovered it until later on the previous night. It was a picture of Misty Fey nursing a sleeping baby boy in her arms, with a young brown-haired girl peeking curiously over her shoulder. Though the baby seemed content enough, Misty had tears rolling down her cheeks. And yet she still had the small trademark Fey smile on her face.

Her expression was one that Maya wore now.

“Sis is way too young for that to be me. Is it…” She waited for Miles to finish her thought, but when he didn’t she continued. “...you?”

“I believe so, yes.” He said, voice breaking. Damn it, he was getting emotional now.

Maya leaned back in her chair and sat still for a few moments, mouth open and eyes wide. Her tears had stopped, but they had left their marks on her face. Miles felt anxious about her response but knew that it was his responsibility to tell her the truth. Especially as her-

“Oh my god, YOU’RE MY BROTHER!” Maya squealed, and he could hardly process how quickly she’d jumped out of her seat and ran around to squeeze him, and he flinched at the unexpected contact.

Almost straight away, she pulled back, as if realizing what she was doing. “You’re my… brother.” She repeated quieter, presumably as the implications sank in.

“I am.” He confirmed. She looked up at him.

“I just don’t believe it. All along! I wouldn’t’ve thought you were such a jerk if I’d known!”

Miles cocked his head. “Thank you..?”

Gently, he pushed her away from his side. “Now listen Miss Fey, I understand if you don’t want anything to change between us. We don’t even have to tell Wright. After finding out that you’ve lost your father, it may be better just to carry on as nor-”

“Are you kidding?!”

Miles blinked. “No?”

“Dude, you’re my brother! All this time I thought I was alone. My sister was murdered and then my Mom was murdered- I never even thought about my Dad really- and then I find out I still have a brother! This is awesome!”

Whatever reactions Miles had predicted in his mind, this was not one of them. Why was she being so supportive?

“Why are you so supportive of the idea? I tried to get you convicted for murder!” He exclaimed, genuinely shocked.

“‘Cause you’re my brother, duh!”

He wasn’t sure when the roles had swapped, but now he was the one who had eyes brimming with tears. It was contagious, and soon she began to sob again too.

When she hugged him again, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he held her tightly, if somewhat awkwardly, and genuinely didn’t want to let go.

This was his little sister. The universe definitely tried hard to take everything away from him, but it failed. Oh goodness, it failed. And at that moment, that one blissful moment of siblings embracing, he felt calm. Everything was going to be okay.

Maya jerked backwards suddenly. “I have to tell Sis!”

“Wait, what-”

“Hold on I’ll channel her, you need to tell her too!” She cried.

“No! There’s no need! She’s resting, leave her be!” She was dead, but that's the same thing, right?

But Maya wasn’t listening, she had already crossed her fingers and furrowed her brows in concentration. The Magatama thing around her neck started to glow.

Miles began to panic again. He’d only thought about Maya, and not even considered Mia Fey at all. Cursed spirit channeling!

He turned to look at the door and wondered if Phoenix was listening in. Probably not, since he’d been very interested in his own chores, but he couldn’t help but wonder nonetheless.

He’d planned a different speech entirely to tell Phoenix.

“Edgeworth?”

That wasn’t Maya’s voice.

He turned again to see a familiar face in Maya’s clothing, looking at him in confusion. He frowned- the last thing he wanted to do was to go through that entire conversation again.

“Hello, Miss Fey.” He said, shaking slightly. Though he’d seen this practice in court before, he doubted he would ever get used to the concept of spirit channeling.

“What’s going on? Maya didn’t leave a note, so I’m a little confused.”

She looked more than a little confused, but Miles wasn’t going to point that out.

“After searching your mother’s house, we found out that your father is my father, and I’m your mother’s son. I’m your brother.”

Wow, ripping the bandaid off in one go really does make it easier.

Mia appeared sceptical. “What?”

“See for yourself.” Miles replied, gesturing towards the pair of photographs on the table.

Mia pulled them towards her and studied them, her face scrunching up slightly as she did so.

She gasped. “You’re… you’re our brother?”

Her reaction was definitely less emotional and dramatic than Maya’s, but Miles could still sense the shock coming from her.

“I am.” He nodded, feeling a sense of deja vu.

“Oh… Oh god, I shouldn’t’ve said all those shitty things about you after our first trial!”

Like sister, like sister, even at his own expense. Wait…

“OH!” He shouted suddenly as he brought up a hand to cover his mouth. He looked away in shame. “The horrid things I called you… even in court…”

Mia raised a hand. “An eye for an eye. Never mention it again?”

He copied her action. “Agreed.”

And then they both laughed. And, for the first time in a while, Miles felt safe. It all felt unreal. This wasn't him, this couldn't be happening. It was probably a dream, so he'd enjoy it while he still could.

“I can’t believe it…” Mia said after they’d settled. “I knew our Dad was a defense attorney, and I’d even researched Gregory Edgeworth once I became one. God, it all makes sense! That’s why Mom agreed to help, and why it was such a big deal to her.” She held her head in her hands, and her stolen black hair fell in front of her face. “I’m so stupid,” she muttered, “I should’ve put two and two together!”

“In your defence,” Miles responded, “I didn’t either. And it is rather obvious now.”

“My Dad was a Brit.”

Miles chuckled again. “He was.”

Without warning, Mia’s embarrassed expression turned into one of sympathy.

“I’m so sorry Miles.”

Now it was his turn to be confused. “Why?”

“We all lost our father at a young age, but Maya and I never found out, and we didn’t really mind since we still had our Mom. But you had no-one…”

Miles was about to argue that he had Von Karma, but decided against it. It wasn’t the time to bring him up. It was probably never going to be, either.

“There’s nothing we could have done.” He said sadly.

Mia scoffed. “Yeah but…” she cut herself off with a smirk. “You’ve got a little sister to take care of now.”

“I already have a little sister-” He argued instinctively, then cringed. He shouldn’t have said that to his dead biological older sister.

Still, Mia seemed to show understanding. “Franziska Von Karma, right? She’s still your sister, just as much as Maya is. Maybe even more than her. But I'm warning you, Maya is a hell of a lot clingier.” She paused. “How did she take it?”

Of course, Mia wouldn’t know since she was busy being dead. “Not how I’d expected, but good. I think she’s happy.”

Mia smiled. “Good.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, in which Miles wished he could have properly met Mia Fey while she was alive, but it was eventually broken by Mia herself.

“You should tell Diego.”

The happiness and warmth that Miles had felt began to dissolve.

“Wh-What?”

“Diego Armando. He told me he worked under Gregory Edgeworth briefly, and he never had a bad word to say about him. I think he deserves to know.”

Diego Armando was a defense attorney that he had faced off against in court a few times but never had the chance to meet properly in person. Even Miles struggled against him, though he would never admit it. The man was poisoned by Miss Dahlia Hawthorne and was in a coma for 5 years. When he woke up, he disguised his identity under the name “Godot”, and was recently convicted for…

A shaky hand was brought to his mouth, and he felt sick to the stomach.

“H-He murdered our mother…”

It was the first time that fact had really sunk in, and Miles hated it.

All of a sudden his shoulders were being gripped tightly. He was forced to look into Mia’s eyes.

“Yes, he did kill our mother.” She stated, matter-of-factly. “But he also saved our sister, whether that was his intention or not. He also mourned me, Miles. He may be a criminal, but he is nothing like Manfred Von Karma. Don’t you dare compare him to him. Deep down, he's a good man.”

“I-I won’t.” Miles replied and for the first time in his life, he genuinely felt like a little brother.

Releasing his shoulders with a satisfied look, she stood up and made her way to where Maya had originally been sitting.

“I’ll let Maya come back now. I’m sure you both have a lot of catching up to do, and I presume Phoenix doesn’t know yet either. You’ll tell Diego, won’t you?”

“You have my word.” Is what he said, but he still felt very hesitant.

“Good.” She said firmly. “I hope to speak to you again soon, Miles.”

Averting his eyes as her figure began to morph into Maya’s, he glanced at the door again. Mia was right, he was yet to tell Phoenix. How would he react, finding out that two of his friends were related? Would he break ties with him? Go into denial?

“Edgeworth!”

It was his turn to smile. This had all gone far better than expected. “Miss Fey.”

Maya (she was back to Maya now) frowned, and Miles immediately took back that last statement. “Dude, we’re siblings now, if you call me Miss Fey again I will end you.”

Once he was certain she was joking, he let himself laugh a little. Perhaps his little sisters weren’t that different after all.

“Alright, Maya.”

It felt strange on his tongue, but he could get used to it. Hopefully.

“Right, what are you up to?”

Both siblings’ heads snapped towards the door, where Phoenix stood with his arms crossed playfully. The pout looked quite authentic though…

He realized that the scene he'd walked into must look very odd, with one friend laughing hysterically and the other letting out a rare chuckle, both with tear tracks on their cheeks.

Now he had another hurdle to cross. Luckily he’d remembered his speech for Phoenix. He would have to be gentle in his delivery and be certain he had the correct order of facts. Reaching out to pick up the photos, he stood up and took a deep breath. It was time.

“We-”

“Guess what Nick?!" Maya yelled, startling him. "Edgeworth’s my brother!”

Oh.

Oh no.

[malereader-inserts]

Under Your Nose

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: BAU team & Psycho!Male!Reader Summary: It’s taking them days, if not weeks, to find this smart killer. Even though it’s right under their noses. Word Count: 1,914 Request: “Can I request a Psycho!Reader with the Criminal Minds team, please thank youuu (hope you are having a good day!)” A/n: Call me a weirdo, but these are so good to write about

Tapping.

It’s the one thing that was slowly driving Spencer insane, then it’s abruptly stopped as you looked at him.

“You alright Spence?”

You softly gazed at him, he looks up from his notebook and his writing, Your sweet as honey voice stops his mind from thinking as you innocently sip from ou hot chocolate. It’s almost as if he short circuit just fuses out as you looked at him concerned, you reach out to him but pausing.

“Stuck on a case, you know how it is,” Spencer says, with a tight smile as you nod and recoiling your arm away from him.

“Understandable,” You nod, shrugging your shoulders, “You and the team always figure it out, I believe in you. I mean you are the genius?”

There was a slight venom upon the last word though you were fully aware that Spencer was too distracted to take note of your tone as you lift the mug up to your lips, the glare held longer than usual as Spencer looks over to you across the table that separates you from strangling him - the urge and you know he’s not armed, shame you two are in public space.

“I guess...” Spencer stutters over his words as you raised an inquisitive eyebrow, “I’ve known psychopaths before this one is just too good...”

“Oh?”

“One per cent of the world population are psychopaths, unable to feel emotion correctly and are profoundly selfish,” Spencer started to rant as you slowly nodded, not caring for another of his lecture - he’ll be called back into work soon, you’ve got his schedule down to a tee.

“Spencer?” You called out to him, interrupting his lecture, five minutes in as you point to his buzzing phone on the table, “Looks like you have to go.”

“Oh,” His shoulders deflate as you placed the mug on the table, “I guess I have to, will you-?”

“I’ll be fine, Spencer, I’m a big boy,” You teased lightly, watching his cheeks flush red, you wonder how quickly you could make him blush if you pointed a knife towards him, “Go, catch this psychopath, tell the team I say hi.”

“Of course, yes,” He nods, closing his notebook and sliding it to his bag, “Garcia would love to see you again.”

“I know.”

There was an unsettling feeling in Spencer’s stomach when you said that as you looked up at him as he stood up with a straight back. There was a glint in your eyes but he questions it not as he just nods and awkwardly takes his departure.

You breath easy as you watch him rush back to work, you leaned your hand back down on the table and started to tap. 

Eyes slowly becoming disinterest as you watch Spencer disappear into the crowd.

Garcia meets you at a bar, she rewards herself with a break on a Friday night knowing full well she’ll be back in work to help solve the case. JJ and Emily are by her side and they’re feeling the tension in their shoulders

But, upon your smile both charming and welcoming they come to their senses to drop their guard with you. You motion to the drink of alcohol you’ve bought them.

“One drink, on me,” There was a cheery tone and they fall for it, “You guys need it, really, you do!”

Not that you cared about their welfare, you rather get the drunk as quickly as possible but alas, you have their trust and it’s fun to wave food in front a starving man, so oblivious and yet so obvious.

“How’s work?”

“Quit,” You shrugged, “Hate being tied down, you know? I’m taking a break for a bit.”

“How will you be...?” JJ asked, sipping on her beer, head already spinning- she wonders have you drugged her glass but you cannot because you’re the sweetest person she knows.

“Oh, don’t mind me, I’ll be fine,” You shrugged your shoulders, waving your hand, “Come on, go enjoy your night!”

That night to drive the girls back to Garcia’s place, too out of it to notice how you stole their money. You unloaded their guns and took the bullets from them. Knocking on the living room door as the girls groaned and looked at you.

“Here, I brought some water for all of you, can’t have you going into work hungover,” You bring them the water, “Well, I best be off, tomorrow will be a great day.”

“Ugh!” Emily groans, her head spinning, she shouldn’t have drunk so much though she can’t even remember how much she drank.

You really took the pleasure in getting them drunk, you felt no remorse in doing so, there was no motive and no gain just all risk. A little fun game to keep you entertained before you go exploring the night for another victim to keep your thirst of murder manageable.

“Say, before I leave, have you checked the victim’s house properly?” You asked, a tentative tone to your voice as you tilted your head, intimidating that three trained FBI gets scared of you, “You might have missed something.”

When they come into work the next day and follow your advice, they find more evidence, which you put there the night you left them plastered. They don’t question how much you know about the case despite being confidential and to you, you sit back watching they play so oblivious as you play too obvious.

There was a knock on your apartment door.

You looked up from your book, it’s been days since you last heard of the team. The classical music on the vinyl on blast as it calms your senses, though the buzz caffeine leaves you aching to fulfil the need to do something.

However, when you open the door you see Morgan looking exhausted and with Hotch.

“What can I do for you guys?” You questioned, “Where’s Rossi?”

“Just your company,” Morgan says, you nodded and let them in.

“He’s drinking away alone in his home,” Hotch answers the second question of yours as you take the answer, shame you didn’t get to see him.

Your apartment is clean, nothing out of the ordinary and nothing to spark curiosity in Hotch, as the two men ventures into your apartment. You paused the vinyl and swapping it for something more tasteful such as Queen and lowering the volume.

“The girls send their wishes for taking care of them,” Morgan says, missing how you grin at yourself in the mirror and fixing your hair even though it was barely a noticeable change.

Self-absorbed in your actions and in yourself, the two profilers miss because you were too good and everyone gets a little vain.

“Well, that’s what friends do,” You shrugged as venom drips from your words before clearing your throat, “Still working on that case?”

As you recall it’s been three weeks since Spencer came meeting you at the coffee shop, it has been their longest investigation yet and it’s sweet as you thought it could be.

“I don’t know how our unsub is doing it, there is no pattern, no link, he’s doing it for fun. A murderer, a psychopathic murderer.”

The term "murderer" was now reserved for psychopaths. There were those that took life and crumpled under the weight of guilt, even if they'd no choice. There were some who killed when necessary and never lost a wink of sleep over it.

There are others who have made it a whole new hobby, look at them the wrong way and they attacked with lethal force, which is where you stood now, sort of. That last group are the only ones considered murderers now. 

The term applies to you as much as it does to a wolf or a bear. Killing in self-defence is just a given. Killing for resources is a grey area. Killing for fun, well, it is a hobby.

“Anything I can help with?”

“If you can catch this sick son of a bitch, then, go ahead,” Morgan seethes in your armchair.

You flash him a smirk, enchanting as your eyes sparkle, “Now, now, Morgan. I’m not a genie.”

The team stood in front of the whiteboard looking at maps, the pictures of the victims and the information, but nothing comes out of it.

Garcia’s fingers are starting to cramp and ache, hoping for a break as the team starts getting headaches.

“Hey, hey,” Your voice echos in the debriefing room, the telephone hadn’t even rung, so they were all surprised to hear your voice.

“Not now, (Y/n)...” Rossi rubs his forehead, stressed.

“Aw, still going over that case, I’m bored!” You shouted down the phone as Rossi press the end call button, “Tsk, weren’t you taught manners, Rossi? It’s rude to hang up.”

“What the-”

There was a chuckle on your side of the call, “Anyway, as I was saying, I’m bored and I’ve been watching you stare at the same thing for the past two hours.”

“What do you mean-?” Hotch asked, roughly.

“The cameras been hacked,” Garcia says frantically from her seat at the round table.

“Whoops,” Your voice calls out and suddenly they can hear people in the background, “Come find me, will you? Come find me and entertain me.”

“Listen (Y/N)-” Morgan almost shouts at you, his was getting inpatient with your vague answers, “We’re busy and if you’re interfering.”

“Me interfering? Oh, yes, I am because this is my case. Shame, I could have this pretty girl fall to her death,” There was a whimper on your side of the phone and then the realisation hits them, “Or this sweet innocent man drown.”

“It’s been you,” Spencer gasped.

“Yes, yes, I thought we got over this,” They could hear you roll your eyes.

“Why are you doing this?” Emily asked, leaning on the table to get closer to the telephone which was stationed in the middle of the table.

“Because I am a proud man? I enjoy my hobbies?” You questioned, “Funny, these two aren’t much of a screamed unlike the others, bless, victim two was a screamer until she annoyed me too much and you know strangled her.”

JJ looked at the board to see the cause of death matched up, nodding to the team about your affirmation.

“And victim five was loud too, you know, begging is very satisfactory. It’s almost a big win, but when they get too much, oh my god, you just have to take a knife to the throat, you get what I mean?”

JJ once again nodded, seeing how victim five matches your violent description of murder and death, then another whimper could be heard from your side of the phone.

“The longer you’re listening, the less time you get to save these poor unfortunate souls,” You hummed, “Well, it’s nice to catch up with you, maybe I’ll call again-”

“NO-!” Hotch exclaimed but you hung up as he looked sternly at Garcia who looked lost in her search.

“That sick son of a bitch!” Morgan seethes and hisses, “Right under our noses, and he’s gloating about it.”

“He is a psychopath, Morgan,” Spencer reaffirmed, hurt that you weren’t being truthful to him or the team, “He does this out of pleasure.”

You looked at the time on your watch, before making a dash for it, the two of your next victims fall to their demise as you departure to building unseen. Now, this is definitely a cure for your boredom.

[stuck-in-hawkins]

When He Left: Chapter 1 October 28th, 1993

Stranger Things Fanfic: Byeler

Rated: Teen and Up

Summary: Will looked back to see Mike at the gate, his forced smile starting to crumble. Will had managed to get the chance of a lifetime: a scholarship to an arts college in California. He would be there among the monster makers of the movie industry. He was pursuing his dream, but what was he giving up in exchange?

It has been four years since Will left Hawkins. Everybody went in their own separate directions. But it has been 10 years since the Gate opened and Will's nightmares are getting worse. So, the party reunites and old feelings ignite.

link to read on ao3

October 28th, 1993

Will felt the sunlight across his face and opened his eyes. The covers were insulating the heat from him and the man laying beside him. That thick mop of black hair, the curvature of his tan back. Will reached out and traced the muscles beneath.

Ishaan stirred. Will thought, “Don’t wake up, don’t wake up.” He laid perfectly still. But alas, the man turned over and looked at Will, still groggy but the blanket of sleep quickly wearing off.

Will spoke softly, “Sorry I woke you. I was just gonna make breakfast.”

The man looked away and mumbled, “I have to get to work.”

There it was. The shame. Ishaan was a flame that Will seemed to keep flying back to. He was exactly his type. Tall, beautiful, and incapable of committing to a relationship. They were drawn to each other.

Ishaan was still very much in the closet. But he would come to clubs. He loved that Will had this quiet, inviting exterior. He’d actually told him this. That Will was safe. He wasn’t “that” gay. That he could pass as straight.

Ishaan had no idea about Will’s occasional drag nights.

Ishaan grabbed his clothes quickly with a speed Will had become familiar with. Will had hoped he could open Ishaan’s eyes, and help him learn to love and accept himself for who he was. But when the morning light came, so did the shame. Will embodied all the things Ishaan didn’t want to face and he would put as much distance between him as he could.

Will put on his pj bottoms and walked down the hallway in time to see Ishaan throw on his jacket.

“Ishaan.”

Eye contact.

“Someday, I’d love to have breakfast with you.”

Will could see him try to swallow a lump in his throat.

“I’m sorry, Will.” He opened the door and walked out.

Will padded his way to the kitchen, and opened the fridge, looking at the eggs and bacon sitting inside. He felt deflated. He could feel a familiar tug, trying to pull him back to bed so that he could curl under the covers. But he knew that if he did that, he’d lose the day. And it seemed like a beautiful one to waste. He turned to the window and cranked the handle, opening them. The air was fresh and warmed from the sun.

Will brought out the eggs, bacon, toast, and butter. He’d remembered feeling the same way Ishaan had. He remembered when he first came to the city in college and kept his identity confined to the night. He used to have a similar elitism, trying to separate himself from gay men that seemed especially feminine, doing anything he could to distance himself from the stereotypes that plagued his sexuality. But going to group helped with that. He opened his mind to become more accepting. He even experimented in his identity and found freedom in the exploration.

He cracked the egg into a bowl. Ishaan hadn’t wanted to go to any of the groups Will recommended. He was in denial. He picked up another egg. He thought, 'You're just something he craves.'

Crack.

“Damnit.” He’d gotten eggshells in the mix. He picked them out. Will was beginning to realize that it would take a lot of soul searching for Ishaan to accept himself. Something Will couldn’t help him with. How long would it take? How many more mornings did he have to watch him run out the door?

Will turned on the stove and let the butter simmer while he whisked the eggs together. Dustin’s words rang in his head.

‘You deserve to be more than someone’s secret.’ Dustin didn’t mince words but he was right. And it just seemed like Will was always drawn to the type that didn’t want to come out.

He heard a door open. Dustin groggily walked in from the hallway. “You are a Godsend. Is that eggs I smell?”

Will smiled. “And bacon will be next.”

“Screw all these other guys. Marry me.”

“Pretty sure there are some terms and conditions you wouldn’t be up for there.”

“Forget them. I’ll do all the butt stuff. Just make me eggs every day.”

Will threw the dish towel at him.

Dustin got the grounds out and started making coffee. “Your man-friend still here?”

Will shook his head.

“That’s too bad. He’s missing out on an awesome breakfast.” He smiled, “And some great company.”

Will smirked. He loved living with Dustin.

___________________________

After breakfast Will got ready for work. It was Sunday and he knew he didn’t have to go in, but he needed a reason to get out of the flat. He didn’t want to sit alone, pining for Ishaan. Will could feel that it was ending. It was a transition that he’d done before. It felt all too familiar but still hurt.

The worst part was seeing them months later, out, proud, and in a relationship. He’d be happy for them, but then he’d wonder. Why hadn’t it been with him? Why wasn’t he enough? Why did it seem like they only changed after he left?

But then, again, he knew that wasn’t always true. There were guys that never came out. Like Hartford, who had a wife and kids that were completely unaware of his Friday escapades. Dating him, being his side piece, was a low point for Will.

And then of course…. There had also been Mike.

‘Nope,’ Will thought. He shut down that train of thought and brought out his sketchbook. He needed to distract himself with a project. Studio time helped with that. After all this time, he still had a weakness with Mike. He’d made his peace with pretty much every guy after. But with him, there was a tenderness that had never faded. And if he thought about Mike when he was like this, in the throes of rejection, he’d fall to pieces.

He grabbed his headphones out of his bag as the Metro carried him across town to his stop. These days, his Walkman turned mostly Sonic Youth albums. Today it was Dreamnation. He got off and headed to The WereHouse.

It was a prop house popular among the independent filmmakers and even the occasional large studio. It was owned by two brothers. One ran the historical prop store, located in another part of town. That shop was mostly a gallery of antiques from all different periods, some originals, some reproductions. That had been where Will had gotten his start, running around thrift stores, estate sales, and antique shops trying to find period correct pieces for their inventory.

But when his boss saw Will’s sketchbook, he got transferred to The WereHouse. The other brother’s creative dungeon of fantasy, sci-fi, and horror props and prosthetics. Will was living his dream, getting to make monsters for movies. Though… most of his work consisted of prop dummies that ended up being burned, buried, or otherwise mutilated. Some weeks were spent meticulously painting disembodied limbs, fingers, and heads. Occasionally larger more creative opportunities arose, like the one he was working on now.

The whole project was very hush hush. When studios put out work like this, they were looking for more than monsters: they were looking for talent. Will was pouring in extra hours because getting this deal would mean he’d be part of something big. It wouldn’t just be low cost props for independent filmmakers. They’d have the backing of a studio. It meant potentially being a part of the next blockbuster.

He could be responsible for the next Xenomorph. The idea was both terrifying and elating. As a result, he spent most of his days either drawing or sculpting with the occasional break to eat and sleep. But it took his mind off of the trials and failures of his love life.

He opened the door and nodded to Anderson, who manned the reception desk. He was currently nose deep in the novel, Dune.

Will walked through the vestibule, where some of the past projects were displayed and made his way through the giant room with shelves scraping the ceiling. One row consisted of nothing but body parts: From whole limbs and torsos to severed fingers and toes. On another row, there was a treasure trove of cursed objects: elvish daggers, cauldrons of all different sizes, stitched leather books, crystals of every color.

Will remembered how awestruck he was the first time he came here… well, honestly for the few months. Now, it was just a part of his life. He’d still get these moments of “I can’t believe I’m working my dream job.” But it had become his new norm. He wished the whole party could see it. Dustin had completely lost his shit when he saw it. But they were the only two of the party in Burbank.

Not for long, though. Lucas was nearly finished his last year in the Navy, and Dustin had been pulling every string he could to make sure Lucas got a position as an engineer at the company he worked for, AECOM. Max has been living with her dad on the coast the past few years. Despite being in the same state, she was still about five hours away. Once Lucas was back on shore, there was a chance of them getting back together and her moving closer. But she had that software job and it was more likely Lucas would move up to her.

Over the years, Will had tried to convince Mike to come over to the coast, to get out of Hawkins. Maybe if the rest of them were together, that would be enough to change his mind.

Will walked into the studio, a large space lined with workbenches and cork boards. Mannequins, busts, and chairs for prosthetics and monster makeup were scattered around the room. And the whole space smelled of curing latex, acrylic paint, and plasticine clay. He sat down at the spot reserved for him, that had pictures tacked up as inspiration, along with a multitude of sketches. And there on the bench was a little model, about a foot high, that he had been carving out and tweaking all week. This was the 3rd version.

The studio was looking to create a new kind of monster. Normally, the producer or director would give some parameters of guidelines. But this one was an open book, which meant it was an audition of sorts. Will looked at his board.

In truth, it wasn’t the monster that was terrifying. It was the world the writer built, the atmosphere the director created. The actors, who made the audience care about the characters on the screen. Even the best monster design could be undone with poor timing, shoddy lighting, or terrible acting. They were all vital components of the final product. Once the audience cared about the world, about the characters, they would become invested. Will’s mind began to ponder.

The scariest parts about everything he experienced was the fear of losing it all. Of never seeing his mom, brother, or friends again. Of being alone at the end. Nothing had been more terrifying than losing himself to the mind flayer. To feel his words and body being driven by another. The most terrifying monsters were the ones that you didn’t see. The ones that transformed characters you loved from human to monster.

Will took pictures of his miniature model as it was. He always did before destroying it. Then, he squished the sculpted figure, wedged the clay back into a ball. From there he began the shaping of a human figure. But he arched the back, as if the body was fighting against itself. Where the spine was, legs that were like spiders but out of bone emerged. The muscle tearing at itself, reattaching to the new limbs. The most frightening monster was the one you watched yourself become.

Art was cathartic. It was how he processed everything. It was what got him through the worst parts of college. It gave him power and strength. He had control over his nightmares now. He could create them and destroy them with his own two hands.

In so many ways, coming to California saved him. He learned methods to cope with his identity, with his trauma. He was in a new place where there were less things to trigger flashbacks. The fear didn’t rule his life like it once had. There were days he questioned whether it was all even real. But, lately, he could feel himself backsliding. His nightmares were getting more vivid. They were trying to claw their way into his life here. They held on tighter so that it was harder to wake up. Sometimes, he forgot them as soon as he woke up. He'd be in a cold sweat, the fear shaking him, and he couldn't remember a thing. He was relieved that Ishaan had stayed the night. Having someone beside him seemed to keep the nightmares at bay. This week, he dreamt about the Mind Flayer, about being trapped inside his own head. He remembered sending his friends the code to close the gate. He knew what it meant. He had been resigned to it. It was a cost he had been willing to pay to ensure that the Shadow Monster would be dead for good. He woke up in tears at how willing he had been to accept his death. He cried at all the things he would have lost and felt relief to be alive.

It was because his family managed to pull it from him. His party refused to leave him behind.

He sculpted the man’s pained face. He hoped that if this movie got made, that they’d save the man. That the characters would be as heroic as his friends had been. _____________________________________

Will got off the metro, exhausted, both mentally and physically. Eight hours in a chair, bent over his desk and sculpting, did a number on his back.

He was still listening to Sonic Youth so he didn’t hear the chatter as he reached his floor. He didn’t hear the laughter when he put the keys in the lock. He didn’t hear the voice of the man that used to make his stomach flutter. If he had, he would have prepared himself. He would have made sure to tuck his heart in his chest, instead of on his sleeve.

But alas, he opened the door unsuspecting and the sound he made betrayed himself. It held in it all the love he felt in seeing him again.

“Mike.”

[sticks-and-stone]

Potts Preserve

September 21, 2019 - September 22, 2019

This was my first time camping since February when I went with my roommate and the dog we had at the time. Before that it was just camping with my father as a kid or drunk with my friends in high school (trips I almost don’t remember at all). So this trip was a pretty big deal with very few expectations or preparedness. I wanted to find a hobby that would not cost much, but would require significant planning and time out of my life before, during, and after. So camping seemed like a good fit. I decided to start planning monthly trips. So this was the first one!

When I first decided to go on this trip, I had next to no supplies. I wanted to go with whatever I had or could improvise as a way to get started on a list of things I wanted to add to my kit. What better way to figure out what I needed than to realize it in the moment! 

This trip was only going to be a quick overnight so that in the event that we realized we had too little, we wouldn’t be stuck out there for days. I found a site that was owned by the Southwest Florida Water Management District and was free to use with a reservation. So I booked the site and called up an old friend, Jenna. Jenna and I did a lot of drunk camping together in high school and she had a foundation of camping with her own father as a child, so I knew she would be right for the job. She and I had also gone a long period of time without hanging out, so it was a good opportunity for us to catch up! 

When we began planning this trip, I had a tent, and some other small stuff, but not a whole lot of anything else. We borrowed a cooler from my roommate, a chair from my parents, and just bought beer on our way out to the campsite.

I wanted to get a good night’s sleep before getting up midmorning on Saturday to meet Jenna and go, but I ended up staying up late. Like a child before her first trip to Disney World, I was restless, excited, and hyperactive. When I woke up (too early) the next day, all that excitement was squashed when I realized I had started my period. I was worried this would happen, but I was hoping my Day One would be on Sunday, but alas, I was going to have to go camping on my period. And not just any camping trip, a camping trip that I wasn’t totally sure I was prepared for. As it turned out, the portable toilets were close and clean enough for me. YAY!

Jenna showed up exactly on time - I really have to give her props for that. She helped me load up the car and then we took off! We stopped at my parents' house (they were out of town) for a little firewood and one of their camping chairs (Jenna did not have one) and also at a gas station for beer and snacks. Then we were on the road for real; it was about midday.

The drive down was quicker and easier than we expected. After not seeing each other  for a few years, we had PLENTY to talk about and catch up on. She told me about all of her drama, I told her about all of mine. It was lovely. We arrived at the campground without getting lost or even a little turned around at all. There were about 4 other groups there already set up and as it was late afternoon on a Saturday, everyone seemed to be pretty settled in. 

We found our spot. Unlike the other spots that people had set up around us, we did not have a fire pit, a picnic table, or a grill. Everyone else seemed to have all three. We didn’t mind and we found a nice flat place to lay our tent out. We found out later that what we chose was not a spot at all and that we were not even supposed to be back there. 

We got the tent set up and I began to work on the air pump that I had borrowed from my roommate. I needed to strip the wire so that I could split it and plug it into the car battery that dad gave me to run the fan. We had no other form of electricity and no other way to pump the air mattresses up. I broke it. I ended up strippping the wires too much and the whole contraption became non-functional. We were only there for one night, though, and what’s sleeping on the ground other than the authenticity of a camping trip? 

From the time of arrival until just before dusk (about 3 hours) we thought it would be nice to open up the tent to allow the breeze and light to enter it. Well, neither did and what did enter our tent was about 10,000 love bugs. So I went in there with our one bottle of bug spray and closed myself in. I held my breath and sprayed the shit out of the aerosol canister until I was sure everyone was dead and I could not hold my breath any longer. 

To give the homemade bug bomb a chance to work, we decided to explore the area and go on a hike. We made it about a mile away from camp and it started raining. The trail seemed to come to a dead end so we just turned around and went back. I have a terrible sense of direction and would have honestly gotten completely lost if it hadn’t been for Jenna to guide us. 

We got back to camp after our hike and I checked on our tent - no more living love bugs, but piles of dead ones on the ground. It was gross. I got Jenna and the broom and we got rid of as many of the dead bodies as we could. We would shake the rest out the next day when we packed up to leave. 

We sat around the fire and played the guitar for a bit when suddenly I realized that we were going to get bored. We had been drinking beer since we arrived and we'd been going through it pretty fast. I never really thought about how to pass the time.  

I went walking around looking for firewood. I had nothing to chop it with or nothing to cut the large limbs, but I could use leverage and my body weight for most of the work I needed to do. 

The entire time we were there, I made sure to keep a list of all the things I thought about having that we didn’t have. The first being string, the next, an air pump that plugged into the car. Then a sponge. I started to realize that we had enough to survive in the woods, but we did not have enough to THRIVE. This trip was rough supplies-wise, but we made do. Thankfully we brought enough beer to ward off TOO much boredom.

As the sun went down and the alcohol made its way further into our bloodstreams, we decided we were hungry and wanted to eat the food I had brought for us. What I had brought was really simple. It was two pre-made PB&J sandwiches, pre-made mac and cheese, and PB&J crackers. 

Dinner was a disaster. The sandwiches I made got soggy from the ice melting and the container failing to do its job in the cooler. The mac and cheese was attempted cold, but then it was decided that we would put it in the pot in the fire and see if we could heat it up. That actually worked out pretty well - but was all we had. Luckily, Jenna came armed with hummus and crackers and had bought some beef jerky at the gas station. 

We went to sleep soon after dinner and made sure we got nice and drunk first because we had forgotten that we were sleeping on the ground that night. After all the alcohol, I was ready to crash. My body temp was high though so I put on the fan and slept on top of my blankets. 

About halfway through the night I was woken up by the feeling of my bones turning to ice and cracking. I was violently shivering in my bed and wasn’t sure my toes were still attached to my body. I had to pee too. So I stood up clumsily in our little tent and put on my shoes. I looked over and Jenna was fast asleep but now wearing more clothes than she went to bed in - I guess she woke up the same way I did.  

I walked to the bathroom and peed. I took comfort in the smelly plastic bin as it seemed to have held on to the day’s heat and trapped it inside. I was suddenly disgusted with myself for enjoying a port a potty, so I walked back to the tent. 

When I got inside I turned off the fan. I looked through my suitcase - nothing but more short sleeved shirts and shorts. I took my shoes off but left my socks on and covered them with a second pair. I took the folded king-sized sheet off of my deflated twin size mattress and used that as extra cover in addition to the small throw blanket I had.  I was able to make it a few more hours like that until the urge to pee woke me up again. 

This time, it seemed warmer outside the tent so I took my double pair of socks off and slipped on flip flops. Jenna was still asleep so I stumbled out of the tent toward the bathroom. I handled my business and came back to the tent - this time, no lingering in the port-a-potty for warmth. 

As I approached the site, I saw Jenna moving around outside the tent with her flashlight. I assumed she was doing the same thing I was - taking a midnight pee - but as I got closer I could see that she was in fact setting up the fire. As I got close enough I asked if she was trying to warm up so she could sleep, and she looked at me confused and said “No, this is today’s fire, it’s 6:30”. I was shocked and confused, but proud that we had made it to morning.

We had no breakfast. So we drank more beer. We were out of water, so I decided it was time to leave. We packed up quickly and cleaned the tent and tarps and then we were on our way out. 

As we tried to exit the gate, our code wouldn’t work and we had to wait for a forest cop to show up and let us out. We probably waited an hour or so, but when he finally did arrive, he was super nice and as it turns out, from Jacksonville! We chatted with him for a while until a car pulled up behind us. We were finally on our way home! 

The ride home was a bit different than the ride there. We double and triple checked my list and talked about all of the things we HAD to get for next time, which things I already had at home, and which things needed to be purchased. Overall the trip was fine, we decided, but we could do WAY better. 

Observations: 

SO MANY LOVE BUGS - they literally covered everything 

We needed to pack the car more strategically - we had to pull everything out to get to the tent and table that we needed to set up first 

We needed rope/string

More stakes for the tarp and the tent would not be a bad idea 

A table or some platform to unpack on would be handy 

Our air pump broke - we needed one that plugged into the car. 

It's super important to keep the tent closed completely. 

We needed a shovel to dig out the fire pit 

We needed more lights around the site - the fire was not enough 

Citronella candles would not be a bad idea either 

Should have brought extra bug spray

We didn’t have much to do beyond sitting and drinking beer. We vowed to bring at least some books and crafts for next time. I want to learn to whittle. 

I needed to stay more organized with the supplies as we unpacked. Things got messy.

Get Outside, 

Stone.

[perseusky]

Prophecy In The Stars

Movie: Narnia

Pairing: None yet, maybe a peter x reader

Summary: Feeling nostalgic, you went to your, newly bought, Disney+. Searching through seas of different and familiar movies, but only stopping at one. Narnia, the movie you and your family desperately adore. Having many good memories with the movie, you decided to play it. Only for your vision to fade to black. Awaken by the sound of children voices, and hands shaking your shoulders. Voices compelling you to be awoken, you groggily open your eyes to see, familiar yet, unknown faces, and a different world not your own. A journey awaits, and a strong blade to be held, a war to win. And a prophecy to complete.

“How dare she!” You yelled, throwing your book bag onto your small twin size bed. The old bed creaking from the sudden weight. Frustratingly running your fingers through your hair, down your face, stretching down your eyes and lips in anger. Than plopping on your bed, making it shake with a threatening rattle.

“HEY! What’s going on up there!” Yelled the voice of your mother. You could clearly hear that she was tired and in desperate need of relaxation. And not wanting to awaken a demon, you quickly apologized. “SORRY MOTHER! Nothings wrong!”

Heaving a sigh, you thought about what you could do with your problem. Either lay around and not do anything about it, or just relax and watch a movie.

You chose the latter obviously. Quickly running over to your desk, that stood next to your wardrobe, and getting your laptop. Flipping it open, and going to Disney+.

You searched through many old and nostalgic movies, yet you couldn’t find the right one yet. Searching for a bit longer, still nothing.

Until you suddenly got an idea of a movie you’ve been itching to watch for years! Swiftly moving the mouse onto the search bar and typing in the specific movie you desperately wanted to watch to finally rid yourself of school and stress.

Practically screeching when you found the perfect movie, and immediately pressing on it. You were so excited that you started to bounce around in place and staring around the room in anticipation as the movie loaded; but what you didn’t notice was the, now, swirling black hole coming from your screen, inch by inch, getting bigger.

Not up until the very last minute, did your pea for brains finally comprehend what was in front of you, and how potentially dangerous and extremely weird it was. Alas, when you tried to move away from it, something grabbed your leg, quickly pulling you into its dark abyss without much complaint, and being unable to yell loud enough to be heard over the loud movie your mother was watching.

The last thing you saw looking back at your room once more with tears swelling in your eyes, was that your mother would be alone, and how dearly you didn’t want that to happen since she’d probably think you left her like your father did. When he found out she was pregnant with you.

Finally accepting that you weren’t getting out of this, you let yourself fall, and you fell deep into the hole where you couldn’t see your room anymore and only a black and big abyss. Feeling as if you were losing conscious, you closed your eyes willingly and tiredly after trying to fight this thing.

You’ll have to deal with this whole situation after you get a good rest, because right now, you could practically sleep through an alien invasion.

__________________________________________

“My dear child! Please wake up! PLEASE!”

Snapping open your eyes, you were blinded by raging lights and you could feel your ears combust from all the loud and fearful noises. Your mind was completely out of it, resulting in your eye sight being blurry and only being able to see the outlines of fires and silhouettes.

This scared you beyond belief. It was like something your never experienced before. Your lungs contracted against your frantic commands. Your body practically having a mind of it’s own, and it horrified you! It felt as if you looked into the snake demon in the eyes herself, and became a mere statue. Isolated, yet still being able to feel, hear, smell. It was complete torture.

Until a harsh sting had erupted on your right cheek. It soon after left a dull ringing In your ear. Your cheek had now turned a bright rosy red, implanted with a hand print of the one who had slapped you. The pain shot through your entire body, down to the tip of your toes, and all the way to the top of your head. It was enough force to make your eyes tear up a bit.

And just enough for you to get out of your stupor, having been thinking before you got slapped; although now that train of thoughts had disappeared. You looked around angrily, searching for the person that had the audacity to touch you in such a way, only a mother could!

You angled your head towards the guilty person who had just slapped you across the cheek. Yes it was for a good reason, and yes you should be grateful since you now knew you were in a dangerous situation, but you still couldn’t let up the fact that they had to SLAP YOU! They could’ve pinched you! Although you knew that wouldn’t be enough to get you out of it.

You looked at the person at fault, who had looked down. Possibly from the fact that they had realized it wasn’t the right thing they should’ve done, especially in a situation like this one. There were practically bombs going off everywhere! And one could even hit them from above.

(Y/n) had soon finally realized, that maybe she was taking this a bit too harshly, and should not blame this person. For they had given her a safe place, away from this war she had found herself in, right after she was sucked into that black ho-

‘Wait a tick, WHERE THE FLIPPITY FLAPS AM I?!’, you hysterically thought as your incomputable brain cells had the AMAZING idea to look at the people who had saved you. So, you did, only to be left with a hanging mouth, and eyes as huge as dinner plates.

In front of you, were the so called, sons of Adam, and daughters of Eve. The Kings and Queens Of Narnia. The hero’s, and children, you looked up to when you were a smol lil bean. (Uwu u wer so cute)

There was a pregnant silence that had taken over the small cabin. Even the bombs had stopped, and that’s what had made the silence even more eerie. It was as if time had stopped, it’d had frozen, and you were the only one that was capable of moving. Well, not up until Edmund had started to wave a hand across your face. “I think she’s a bit thick, pretty, but thick in the head.”, he had said with a taunting smirk.

Even in a situation, where he should be scared and crying, like he was in the movie, he had the audacity to call you thick. Now you remembered all the times of back then when you used to get mad at Edmund for selling out aslan and his sibling to that witch. You were practically seething on your couch when he did it for food. Your parents had to stop and hold you down before you could damage the tv thinking it would hurt Edmund. Yes, you may be a hypocrite since you’d sell anyone out for anything, JUST for food, but who wouldn’t???

“Oh, I’m thick? Why thank you for noticing! I’ve been doing two squats a day, squating low to get to the bottom of the refrigerator, all the way to the top to get my snacks. It has its advantages.”, you had answered with a knowing smirk. And you had received the reaction you had wanted from the little asshole, a bright red hue, across his ears, and down his neck. He practically glowed!

Although, the moment was ruined by a shock wave hitting the ground hard. You had tipped over by the sheer force it was giving out, and fell on peter. Not that you minded. You looked up at him, and into his eyes. He was already looking at you, with wide eyes, and a blush adorned on his already rosy cheeks. Giving him a thankful smile and a quite ‘thank you’, you got back on your two feet and stood awkwardly next to each other.

“So, anyone wanna play ‘who’s gonna die first?’.”, you had recived ludicrous and surprised faces at the suggestion. The cabin was once again awkwardly and filled with silence.

“Tough crowd”....

__________________________________________

“Alright, so you’re going to be taken in by a man who was generous enough to take care of all of you until the war has ended. Do not give him any trouble, or more than he already has for taking care of all of you. Especially you (y/n).”, Mrs. Pevensi had given you a point stare. To others, she’d seem a bit strict, but to you, you could tell she had said it dripping with amusement.

“Of course i will cause him troubl-, I meannnnn.”, chuckling to yourself at your “mistake”. Which had earned you another pointed look. Although this one seemed real.

Breaking the silence with a groan, you had accepted your fate and had pledged, like a Girl Scout, to Mrs. Pevensi that you wouldn’t cause any trouble to the old man.

What she didn’t know was that behind your back, was your pointer and middle finger crossed over each other, and out of her sight. You had to contain your smile when you saw peter looking at you with a smile of his own, having seen your crossed fingers and had known what it meant.

“Bye my dears!”, their mother looked at them sadly.

The train had started moving, and the siblings had deflated in their seats. Lucy looked up at peter sadly, “Will mummy be ok?” Having looked up from your conversation with Susan, you also stared at peter, awaiting his answer. When he had yet to say something, you had decided to speak up for him, since you could see Lucy becoming even sadder when she saw that her brother couldn’t answer.

“It’s alright Lucy. I’m sure she’s fine! Besides, you have us don’t you?”, soon receiving a small and innocent smile from the small girl, which had made your insides flutter and your cheeks to turn a beautiful light pink. You just wanted to squeeze the poor girl to death, UGH!

“Everything will be fine.”, peter reassured once more, looking up at you from his lap, where his hands had been neatly folded. He smiled at you, a smile that melted your heart, and made all the bad thoughts and memories in your head immediately vanish. His eyes were a deep and beautiful blue, that if they were hit by the sum, they’d look like a tropical ocean. You just wanted to jump in and swim in them for all eternity.

The same went for peter. He had fallen, and he’d fallen hard. He just loved the way she laughed so freely and carelessly, as if there was no war. As if there was only good in the world. And oh god, those beautiful and full pink/nude lips of hers, oh how soft they looked. He’d imagined many times How’d they feel on his. Or when he’d look at her hair, such lucious and curly/wavy/straight/shaved hair. That practically shined in the sun and looked so soft, that if he touched it, he’d never want to let go.

“PETER!”, shouted out a boyish voice right next to the daydreaming and love struck boy. Peter had to hold onto the train seat to steady himself from the shocking noise and having to comprehend what was happening. Turning towards the voice ready to fight for his siblings if needed, only to be hit in the face with his suitcase. “We’re here you idiot!”, Edmund, oh how he wanted to punch that boys face. But than it dawned on him, was he day dreaming for THAT long? He looked around to see if it wasn’t another stupid joke, and it certainly wasn’t, since he was the only one in the cart left. Everyone else was already outside and on the carriage that seemed to be for them.

Peter quickly grabbed his bag without any hesitation and ran out the train, jumping at the last step. He continued to jog all the ay over to the carriage where he was met with another smirk of the girl he adored. The mischievous look in her eyes as she had looked him over, head to toe, made his body feel as if he was shot by an electric bult. Oh and how his heart swelled. “Are you listening to me boy!?”, he once again was yelled at, which was caused, again, by day dreaming.

Peter looked at the new and unfamiliar woman who had just yelled at him, seeing that she had wrinkles all over her face, and practically radiated an aura of strictness and power. Something and someone he didn’t want to mess with. “Y-Yes ma’am.”, peter responded quickly with well learned manners.

“Good, now hurry up, we can’t keep the Professor waiting!” She said in an annoyingly shrill voice, that was already giving you a head ache. You rolled your eyes at her, but than looking over at peter and watching as he lifted his, seemingly heavy, suit case without breaking a sweat.

Biting your lip, you looked at his arms, and thought of some unholy things you could do with those strong and beautiful biceps.

“Oh, I’m gonna enjoy this.”, you had said to yourself as the carriage finally started to move, slowly, but surely moving. And you were right, you are gonna enjoy it, and you’ll make sure of it.

Tell me whatcha think in the comment, and if I should make a part 2.

[weebiewrites]

Are You Sure We’re Talking About the Same Person? - Chap. 3

AO3

Previous — Next

"What… was that?"

Ladybug shrieked, nearly jumping out of her suit, as she spun to face her partner. Where had he even come from? He had a bad habit of sneaking up on her, especially during the dead hours of the night. Normally, it wouldn't phase her. But today was not a normal day.

Chat leaned forward against his staff, his chin resting on his hands which covered the top of it. He regarded her with a smirk, which was a rather common look for him. But, there was something else there — something that Ladybug couldn't quite read.

"Chat Noir!" she gasped. "You scared me! I thought you said you weren't coming tonight." Chat blinked wide, his smirk vanishing for a moment.

"Ah- well— um…" he started, rubbing the back of his neck. "My plans got... cancelled." he said, very unconvincingly, with what she thought was a flash of guilt on his face. "But that's beside the point!"

Ladybug glanced down at the gloved finger which was suddenly pointed right in front of her face.

"I saw you with that Agreste boy." Chat said, his eyes narrowing into a cat-like slit. Ladybug stiffened.

Of course Chat Noir had seen it. Of course he would happen to be just late enough to stumble upon her acting like a total doofus in front of her crush. And of course, he was going to tease her about it.

"You… saw that?" She squeaked, her face turning pink.

"All of it."

"I was just saving him!" It wasn't a total lie. She was doing her due duty as a superhero, at first, recovering a runaway adolescent boy who was out way past curfew. It wasn't her fault that he had to go and confess his love to her. Chat snickered.

"Saving him with a kiss?" He said, voice dripping with smugness. He raised an eyebrow at her, slowly inching closer to study her reaction.

Ladybug wished she was wearing the Turtle Miraculous so she could retract her head into its shell. Instead, she turned her head away, unable to handle the scrutiny of his stare. She had no doubt he was getting a sadistic pleasure out of teasing her like this, and was reveling in her embarrassment.

"It's not like that!" She insisted, but she knew her defense was useless. Chat knew her well enough to right see through it. Though, if she was being honest, most anyone with half a brain could probably see through it. She tried to find more words and come up with a reasonable explanation, but just ended up stuttering, making her case even less believable. The blush covering her face and the top of her ears wasn't doing her any favors, either.

As if he weren't already invading her personal space, Chat leaned even closer.

"Blond hair, green eyes?" He cooed in a sickeningly sweet, yet taunting voice. "Purhaps you have a type, M'lady."

Ladybug didn't even need to look at him to know what face he was making. She reached her hand out and gently pushed his face away from her.

"Not a chance, Kitty. I only have eyes for one-" Ladybug caught herself and cringed. She slowly peered over at Chat, whose face was beaming underneath her fingers. Before she could open her mouth to correct herself, Chat interjected.

"So you admit it!" He said, pointing an accusatory finger at her. His grin was way too wide, and his eyes lit up as if they had stars behind them. Was it just her, or did he sound way too excited about this?

Ladybug hunched over, heaving a sigh. She dropped her hand, and Chat nearly dropped with it, as he had been leaning too far into it in his excitement. He quickly recovered, though. He turned on his heels and struck a rather dramatic pose. With his back bent backwards and his face slightly tilted upwards, he hugged himself with one arm, and positioned the other pointing towards his face, twirling an imaginary rose in his fingers. Ladybug rolled her eyes. He definitely got that from an anime.

"Alas, My Lady has scorned my love, and has fallen for another!" He started, adopting a haughty sounding tone. He paused for a moment, not-so-discretely looking over his shoulder to gauge her reaction. "But," he continued, striking a different, but clearly still anime-inspired pose. "My spirit is not so fragile. Do not worry about me, for, in time, I will find my way again. The road will be treacherous, and full of sorrow…" Chat wiped away an imaginary tear, prompting another eye-roll. "But,  someday, my heart will move on.

"Ladybug, I accept your rejection!"

There were so many words dancing on Ladybug's tongue that she could have said in response to Chat's spectacle, but the only thing that came out was an exasperated sigh.

"You're so weird." She eventually said after he flashed her a cheeky smile, indicating that he had dropped the act. Chat ignored her comment.

"Now that that's over with," he said, sounding way too satisfied with himself. He slid in closer, once again ignoring her personal space (sometimes she wondered if he even knew what that was), and with his face lit up like a schoolgirl gleefully engaging in the latest gossip, asked, "What do you like about him?"

Ladybug groaned in response, bringing up her hand to her forehead with a smack. Of all the people in Paris, Chat was at the top of her list of people she didn't want finding out about her crush, second only to Adrien himself. Besides the fact that they weren't supposed to know anything about the other's identity, being constantly teased and probed by her partner about it was not something she was looking forward to. Especially if he was going to make that face every time.

"I'm not going to tell you." She said with a huff. Chat's face dropped.

"Wha-a-at?" He whined. "Come on, Ladybug! I already found out, so what's the harm!" Strangely, his eyes looked like that of a lost puppy dog's for a moment. "Everybody has celebrity crushes, it's nothing to be ashamed of. I mean, unless you happen to know him in real li-" And there were those prying, sneaky, cat eyes again.

"Too close!" Ladybug said, shoving him away. He wasn't actually too close, but Ladybug needed him to stop talking at the moment. "Chat, you know we can't know about each other." She warned. Chat pouted.

"Fine," he said, frowning and turning away. "I guess I can only assume you just like him because he's a stinky, pretty-boy loser.”

"Stinky?" Ladybug gasped, suddenly insulted. Her mind immediately went into a frenzy as she began to ramble and defend him. "Take that back! I'll have you know that Adrien smells like fresh picked roses! He's way more than just a pretty face, and he's definitely not a-"

Oh. Chat wasn't pouting anymore. He looked like a kid on Christmas morning. Of course. He was just trying to get her to talk about him. Now it was Ladybug's turn to pout. She felt her face burning from frustration.

"He's more of a gentleman than you could ever hope to be," she spat, turning away. She didn't want to see that stupid smirk on his face when he realized he had won in making her spill more than she wanted. She waited for his snarky comeback, but there was just silence. Uncomfortable silence.

Had she gone too far? No, this was Chat. He was always quick with the recovery. But after a few more moments of painstaking silence, she wasn't completely convinced.

Ladybug peeked over her shoulder to see a completely deflated Chat. His ears were flat on his head, his gaze pointed downwards.

"Chat..?" She said, breaking the silence. "Maybe I shouldn't have-"

"No, I'm sure you're right Ladybug." He said, clearly forcing out a nervous chuckle. "That's okay. I'm happy for you for finding such a great guy." Chat hugged himself and turned away.

Ladybug realized she had definitely messed up.

"Anyways," he started. "I'm gonna go ahead and patrol. I… have a lot of ground to cover, since I'm so late." He grabbed his staff out of his belt, and it extended. "See ya tomorrow."  

"Chat, wait-" Ladybug reached out, but he was already catapulting to the next rooftop.

Ladybug didn't feel like patrolling after that. It was already 3 in the morning, and their patrols usually went from 1 to 4, so she decided it wouldn't be the worst thing if she turned in for the night. She landed on her balcony with a quiet thunk.

"Tikki, de-transform." The Kwami immediately flew out of her earrings, and floated in front of her face. With her transformation released, Marinette felt her eye bags come back as the fatigue hit her all at once. She couldn't help herself from yawning loudly.

"Well that was a total bummer." She said, stretching. Her night had been nearly perfect until Chat showed up, and now that was all she could think about. "Do you think I really hurt his feelings, Tikki?" Tikki nodded solemnly.

"He seemed really upset," she noted.

Marinette groaned. She didn't mean to. He was the one making her upset up until that point. To be honest, she didn't know Chat could even have his feelings hurt like that. He was always quick to banter with her.

"I think you should apologize to each other," Tikki said. "You both went a little too far." Marinette nodded in agreement, stifling another yawn. "But first, you should get some sleep. You have school tomorrow after all."

School.

Adrien.

She was going to see Adrien at school tomorrow.

The squeal that suddenly came out of Marinette's mouth sounded almost exactly like the whine of a tea kettle. She had been relatively good at keeping herself composed about everything that happened with Adrien, putting on her “hero” face to maintain her sanity, but now the mask was off, and Marinette was unable to control the whirlwind of butterflies dancing around in her stomach. Adrien had asked her out! He had said that he loved - no, was in love with her!

But, he asked her out as Ladybug, not as Marinette. The glee she was feeling suddenly turned into dread. He didn’t know that Marinette was Ladybug. He didn’t know that when he asked Ladybug out, he was actually asking Marinette out! She paled.

She was going to see Adrien, and she was going to have to pretend that he didn’t ask her out. She was going to see Adrien, and she was going to have to pretend that he didn’t confess his love to her. But he had, and she could barely contain herself. A furious blush washed over her. She had kissed him. She had kissed Adrien! How was she going to be able to face him tomorrow? How was she going to act normal around him ever again?

“Earth to Marinette! Earth to Marinette!” Tikki waved her small arms in front of her, trying to get her attention.

“Tikki! What am I going to do?” Marinette said, clutching her head with her hands. “Adrien is in love with Ladybug! And Ladybug’s really Marinette! But Adrien doesn’t know that Ladybug is Marinette and now Marinette is going to have to see Adrien everyday knowing that Adrien is in love with Marinette and-” Tikki floated in front of Marinette’s hands which were gesturing wildly as she spoke. She gently reached out and touched one hand.

“First of all, breathe,” the Kwami said, a hint of exasperation coming out of her small voice. Marinette forgot that they had already had this exact conversation in the alleyway, earlier. Marinette took a deep breath in, practicing the breathing exercises her mom had taught her. “It’ll be alright, Marinette! Just be yourself, like always!” Marinette moaned.

“Being myself without the knowledge of Adrien’s undying love for me involves me stuttering and mumbling like an idiot whenever I so much as hear his name! Imagine how worse it’s gonna be now that I know that he likes me!”

“It doesn’t have to be worse, Marinette!” Tikki insisted. “Think of it this way. Now that you know that he likes you, you don’t have to worry about what he thinks of you. He already said it! He’s in love with you!”

“He’s in love with Ladybug,” Marinette corrected with a sigh.

“But you are Ladybug, silly! Through and through! He might not know that right now, but it doesn’t change anything!” Marinette eyed the Kwami suspiciously. “You stumble over yourself because you’re so worried about what he’ll think of you, but now you know, so you don’t have any reason to not be confident in yourself!” Marinette felt her face warm up, and she couldn’t tell if it was from blushing, or just because she was so tired.

“I hadn’t thought of it that way.” She said shyly. “Maybe… tomorrow won’t be so bad.” Tikki smiled at her warmly, before ushering her off to bed. Marinette wobbled her way down into her room and crashed into her bed. Before passing out, she touched her fingers to her lips, remembering the warmth of Adrien’s cheek from earlier that night. She fell asleep grinning from ear to ear.

[baby-babeyy]

Jonmund Soulmate AU??

In a canon AU where everyone is born with a tattoo representing their soulmate, and it moves when you’re near them...

Jon’s tattoo has always seemed very cryptic, it’s just a blur of orange, red and yellow like a splash of paint on his wrist.

When he was young he tried to figure it out but couldn’t decifer what it was let alone what it represented so he had no hope of searching for his soulmate, he’d simply have to hope they found him.

As he grew older he lost faith in finding his soulmate, his blob of colour never shifting once in his 18 years, so by the time he decides to join the nights watch, he’s resigned himself to a life alone.

The first time he sees his mark move he’s gone beyond the wall, and is living with the free folk.

The bright colours of his mark ripple and crackle, glowing bright like a fire. He instantly knows who his soulmate is - kissed by fire.

Despite his confidence that Ygritte is his soulmate, he’s still the same inexperienced boy that left Winterfell, too afraid to mention it to her, and all the teasing he receives from the other men - Tormund especially - about his experiences with women makes him blush as red as his mark.

After having too much to drink one evening, he quietly reveals to Tormund that he knows who his soulmate is.

Tormund’s eyes go wide with something like hope... until he says Ygrittes name, and he seems to deflate.

Jon asks him what’s wrong but Tormund brushes him off, and from then on he’s extremely distant from Jon, even verging on hostile.

It’s the hardest decision of his life to betray he free folk and return to the watch, even harder to fight them when they attack castle black.

Watching Ygritte being struck down feels like the worst pain Jon could imagine. Losing his soulmate without ever having told her is like having his heart torn out.

After the battle is over he braces himself for the blank space undoubtedly left on his wrist in place of his mark. He nearly falls down when he sees it still there crackling away strong as ever.

When Tormund is released he offers Jon his condolences - ‘I know how hard it is to lose a soulmate without ever having been with them’ he says.

Painfully Jon manages to get out that she wasn’t his soulmate, that he’d made a mistake and that though he’d loved her, she hadn’t been the one.

Jon’s somewhat affronted weeks later when Tormund asks gruffly to see his mark, it’s something he rarely has on display, but he rolls his sleeve up nonetheless showing off the roaring flames which seem to light up the darkness of the room.

Kissed by fire, Tormund seems to understand what Jon believed his mark to mean the moment he lays his eyes upon it.

He explains how Ygritte always used to use that phrase to describe her wild red hair and how he connected it to his mark.

Uncharacteristically hesitantly, Tormund tells Jon that it’s a phrase commonly used amongst Free Folk, not just by Ygritte, and he points out that she wasn’t the only red haired wildling Jon had been around.

He rolls up his own sleeve, revealing a small black crow flying about his strong forearm - ‘he took flight the day I first laid eyes on you, pretty crow’ he tells Jon with a gentle smile and soft eyes.

Jon’s overwhelmed by what Tormund seems to be implying. It’s not uncommon for two men or two women to be soulmates, nor is it hugely frowned upon. But having spent so long convinced he’d never meet his soulmate, then convinced he’d met her only to be incorrect left him unable to cope with having finally found his match.

He asks why Tormund never told him, why he let him believe it was Ygritte for so long, why he didn’t tell him that night beyond the wall.

Tormund explains to him how rarely some people’s soul bonds do not go both ways, how he believed that whilst Jon was the one he was destined for, Jon had been destined for Ygritte, and she him. He tells him he didn’t want to ruin his happiness so he resigned himself to staying away from Jon the best he could - until Ygrittes death, when he had wanted to be there for Jon regardless of how it could hurt him.

Torn between being thrilled to have finally found Tormund and grieving Ygritte (he had loved her, soulmate or not) he asks if Tormund would be willing to give him time to get used to the idea, before they pursue their bond further.

‘For you, little crow, I would wait one thousand winters’ he replies, giving Jon a kiss on the top of his head and leaving him to himself.

From then on Tormund allows Jon his space to find his footing, but he never strays far from the Lord Commander - until that is, Jon is murdered by his own men.

Tormund does not see Jon dying but he feels it. A burning in his wrist as his little crow fades away, and a searing pain in his heart as half his soul is ripped from him.

He stands and stares at Jon’s body, his heart in his throat, with Jon’s brothers and the smuggler, Davos, who looks at Tormund with understanding, the same pain he feels slightly less fresh in his eyes, and a starkly plain wrist. (Looking at Jon’s own sparks a whole new pain, the once bright colours fading into shades of grey)

As the Red Woman attempts to bring him back, Tormund tries to hold down all hope he has, knowing it’s unlikely but wanting to believe in her all the same. When she fails it feels as though Jon’s being taken from him all over again.

He sleeps fitfully that night, unable to rest, not standing to be awake lest he think of Jon’s midnight black curls, or his stormy eyes, or his bright smile.

When he wakes the next morning and goes to dress he almost misses it. As he slides his arms into his furs he sees a glimpse of red, a red that’s never been there before.

He hurries himself as fast as he can back to to where they had kept Jon’s body, and alas there he is, wounds of betrayal still on his chest, fire burning brighter then ever on his skin.

They barrel into one another, clinging tightly to each other’s bodies as if they’d be ripped apart otherwise.

‘Little crow how I’ve missed you’ Tormund says, ‘or should I call you White Wolf now?’

He rolls up his sleeve, revealing his new mark. Gone is the little crow fluttering around. In its place sits a stark white direwolf, it’s eyes burning red as dragonfire, a crown placed on its head.

They press their foreheads together looking deep into each other’s eyes.

‘Promise me you’ll never leave me like that again, Jon Snow’

‘Never,’ Jon replies smiling. ‘I am yours and you are mine’ he whispers before pressing his lips to Tormund’s, finally together at last.