#ignore the GIANT bug bite on my head on the second

[vixenposts]

I <3 hot tubs

[ghoulishpencil]

Honestly, she wasn’t sure how the beast had kept her alive through her fever. The Lady must’ve helped. 

She was a great help now too, though Finley wasn’t a terribly big fan of the lacewing beetles. The first time he saw one, he tried to squish it, much to Aster’s chagrin. 

“They’re pests,” he explained. “They love to bite people and kill our crops.” 

“Well these aren’t the same lace bugs you’re talking about.” She cupped the beetle in her hands protectively, moving it to the mantle. “These beetles are the Lady’s heralds.” 

“Right, the Lady. The person you can’t see and who provides you with food?” he asked. 

“Us,” she corrected. “Me, the beast, and now you.” She watched him grow pale. “What is it?”

“You’ve been feeding me her food?”

“Yes… you knew this before,” she said slowly, brow furrowing. in confusion. “The very first night, you talked about how the water was cold and I told you.” 

“Aster, my chest was ripped open by your precious monster, in case you forgot.” He pointed to the dressings on his chest. She rolled her eyes. “Your Lady is clearly some sort of fae.” 

She scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Fae don’t exist.” 

“You’re basically lovers with a giant monster!” 

“Finley.” She had wanted to shout, but everything came out as nearly a whisper. “That’s not true. That’s not even close to true.” 

“I hear how you talk to him. You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” She found it impossible to look at Finley, feeling her eyes start to fill with tears as she stared hard at the window. Her head hurt. Her eyes were burning, her vision growing watery. “Come on Aster, I want to hear it.” 

“I don’t know!” She turned and ran out the door, ignoring when Finley called her name. 

She didn’t know where the beast was, and the idea of trying to find it made her stomach twist unpleasantly. Her bare feet smacked against the cool marble floor, propelling her outside into the sun. The stitch in her side burned, begging her to slow down, but she couldn’t. Panic drove her forward, past the first gate, running headlong into the second. 

It was locked, and she hit it hard, making it rattle and screech in protest. She sobbed as she grabbed at it, screaming back at the rusty metal as it refused to give way. “Let me out!” There was the volume, her voice cracking. She beat at it with her fists before moving on, following the wall. 

She’d nearly made it to the far corner of the manse’s land when she found a bit of the wall crumbled, a massive tree forcing its roots and and into it. It was just enough space for her to fit through, tearing at the bottoms of her feet and her skirt as she wedged her way through. She sniffed, wiping at her face with the back of her hand. She was out — free of the beast and Finley. Something about this felt familiar. A sense of deja vu. She followed the wall back towards the gate, watching where she placed her feet. 

She stopped when she reached the road, pausing and hiding in the treeline. She thought she could hear the beast yelling, roaring, and it made her shudder. The monster was out, looking for her. If it saw her, what would stop it from climbing over the gat and tearing her to shreds? Her leg ached from the memory. 

She decided to stay in the trees, keeping the road to her left until it curved out of sight of the gate. Only then did she break free, curling her toes against the warm stone. The road was still rough, but she could pick her way down. The road turned steep, twisting on itself. Her leg was starting to protest so much walking, and she found herself slipping more than once. She paused one of these times to take a break, breathing hard and rubbing her calf where the muscle had knotted up. 

She could smell smoke. A fire? She stood slowly, limping her way around what turned out to be the last major bend in the road. In front of her stretched a town, smoke rising gently from more than one chimney. 

A breeze blew through the town, and she could smell it again. Not smoke. Food. Her stomach growled, and she folded her arms over her belly as she limped towards the the scent. 

[oopsimbug]

in which... y/n is just trying to put on eyeliner and harry is bored pt. two

a/n: when she’s back from a six month hiatus after making only ONE fic. wow, do i suck. for anyone who cares, school has been pretty rough. i’m actually procrastinating studying for an exam to finally upload this. it’s been pretty hard to balance both school and writing but oh well. anywho, here it finally is. it took so long to write because i wasn’t feeling very inspired by this. a lot of people asked for a part two and even though i kinda wanted to leave it on a sad note, i am a sucker for giving the people what they want, so sorry if this is a bit shit- i definitely don’t like this one myself. i guess i’m not one for fluffy endings. well, at least for this one i wasn’t. i really hope you enjoy it! more stuff to come, if school doesn’t mind fucking off for a little while (or maybe just forever?) xox -(a) bug

pairing: best friend! harry styles x reader

summary: Harry is worried about Y/n. Y/n is worried about Harry. Harry is solving it by thinking of ways to check on her, while Y/n uses cheesy pasta and the Fresh Prince of Bel Air as an excuse to not think. But what will happen when someone is at her door, and it’s not her delivery man?

warnings: angst, swearing, y/n and harry being idiotos, fluffy end, kissing

word count: 5.3k

It had been a week.

One gruelling, painfully long week.

Harry was biting his nails, staring up at the ceiling as he laid in his bed, worrying about her.

About how he fucked up.

He didn’t think that she would be upset for this long. He thought she would scream at him and then text him the following day, wanting to hang out- a silent “I forgive you”, he supposed.

But after two days of radio silence on her end, he decided to call her. The only problem was that her last words to him were “leave”. She wanted space. She needed to think things through- what things? Harry had no clue. But he had to respect her and her choice to not want him around. So with that, he put down the phone.

But a small part of him (okay fine, a big part of him), wanted her to just show up at his house so they could cuddle again, talking about the stupidest of things while they made cupcakes in his kitchen. They would be listening to groovy music and now and then, they’d stop mixing bowls and sifting flour to dance- well, they were horrible dancers, so more so just wave their hands, hips and shoulders around. It would be fun and would always end up with them laughing at one another. He would lick the batter and she would berate him, telling him that “one of these days, you are going to get salmonella and I’ll just laugh at your stupid ass” and he would retort with something witty and a bit flirty like “don’t worry darling, we both know you would be right at my side if I got sick. I know you can’t stand being apart from me” with a wink and a cheeky smirk. He just wants to see her in her oversized Space Jam hoodie and little basketball shorts. Or her short flower shirt and his sweatpants that she has to cuff at the bottoms because they’re too long. Or even-

He’s gotta stop thinking about her, or his brain will soon explode. But he just can’t stop. He tries to think of the happier moments, like her showing him a tour of her very healthy houseplants that she prides herself in, but every time he closes his eyes, all he can see is her teary face telling him to leave. So no, if he was given the choice to think of her flailing her arms around in his kitchen to dancehall tunes while making sweet treats or crying at something that he provoked, you bet your ass he’d choose the former.

But after the seventh day, he knew that something wasn’t right. This was too much “thinking time”. For all he knew, she could be fine, but she could also be positively bawling. She could be living for this free time, but she also could be waiting for him to make the first move. She could be wanting Harry out of her life for her benefit forever, but she also could be feeling lonely and counting the seconds for their makeup, just like he was.

That was it. He had to go see her and make sure his best friend was okay.

He practised what he was going to say to her in his car on the way to her apartment. “Y/n, I’m so sorry for how I acted. I didn’t stop to think about how you were feeling and didn’t take your emotions into account which was unbelievably wrong of me. I’m truly sorry. It’s just that I really care about you and you’re my best friend and I can’t see you choose a tinder fuck over me and if I saw him in the street I would knock his lights out and I just want to kiss you, can I kiss you, oh god please let me kiss you I just want to-“

Fuck, what was wrong with him? Why was he so upset? He had been on plenty of dates with other celebrities and models and she was always on the sidelines, cheering him on. So why was he getting so touchy-feely about a single tinder date? Maybe he was just in desperate need of attention. He hadn’t had a girlfriend for almost one year and casual fuck arounds also stopped about four months ago, so maybe he just needed to fuck someone quick. That would explain why he sees his best friend’s kindness and natural flirty nature as something more romantic. Every laugh at his jokes, every look in her eyes, every graze of her hand on his thighs as she leans over him to get her drink on the side table next to him, he becomes more switched on and awake. She leaves him feeling giddy and excited at every conversation. “This can’t just be because I’m horny right?” he cannot believe he would ever be that horny. What the hell was he going to do?

*

This is pathetic she thought.

I’m pathetic.

She let out a huge sigh before shoving another forkful of cheesy pasta into her mouth.

What am I doing?

The answer?

Eating carbs upon carbs upon carbs, lounging on her comfy sofa in the most comfortable, yet daggiest pair of pyjamas ever while watching reruns of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air for the fiftieth time, actively avoiding all commitments, housework and jobs that involve moving further than to the kitchen, which even then was an embarrassingly burdening trek on its own.

But she let it slide. How could she not? She was upset and this was how she coped. That’s what she kept reminding herself as she boiled more and more pasta watching the days pass her by without realisation, but now, she’s beginning to question if this was the best idea. Pushing all thoughts of him out of her mind by not looking at her phone just in case he called or texted. But she was beginning to struggle.

It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know what inner turmoil she was facing. He seemed genuinely hurt when she snapped at him. He truly didn’t understand why she took so much offence to the playground ribbing, it seemed. And she had to go be a dick and ignore him. He was probably worried sick. How many times would he have called to check up on her? 10? 15? The more she thought about it, the more she wanted this stupid feud to be over and just be in his arms again, even if it’s just as a friend. So she caved. Turned on her phone, expecting there to be at least a call or a text asking if she was still alive or not. And although she did receive a message of that likeness, it wasn’t from Harry, no. It was from her daily water tracking app, pleading her to fill in her daily intake of water so as to not die of dehydration after she was suspected to have not drunk any for the entire week when in reality, she was just too in her head to open her stupid phone and log her water.

Wow, she thought.

Now not only has Harry chosen to not speak to you, but you also look like a huge idiot right now. Of course, he wouldn’t want to talk to you! You got pissed at him for absolutely no reason and now he hates you. He’s gonna ask for his cardigan and track pants that he keeps at your house in case he wanted to sleepover. He’s going to take back all of his little knick-knacks that he leaves over, like the cute diffuser that he leaves because he knows you need it for your constant hay-fever that blocks your nose and then he’s going to declare that you aren’t friends anymore and then you will never get the chance to tell him how you feel and then-

Her panicky brooding is interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Who the hell could that be?”, she thinks. It was too late for it to be the postman with her package containing her entire Amazon wish list that she bought on the third day of mourning to make herself feel better. But it couldn’t be Mrs Xiao asking her if she had any holes in her shirts that needed stitching. The sweet old lady fell asleep at 8:37 pm sharp after her medicine that she’d take at 8:30 pm would kick in (which she learnt after spending nights over at her apartment where her niece, Mei, took care of her. Y/n would learn traditional recipes like baozi and watch movies with her two friends all the time). It couldn’t be Mei either, she was always in online uni lectures from 8:30-10:30 pm, locked away in her little study, so as to not bother or be bothered. So now, a little panicked, Y/n wondered who was truly at her door?

Another two knocks come, echoing off the walls of her little apartment as she turns down the volume of the program she was watching. She stares at the door from her couch, debating whether she should risk getting stabbed by a possible murderer or not, before ultimately deciding that life was too short. She was also getting sick and tired of the knocks that kept arriving in threes. She swings her legs off the couch and onto the floor, pushing them into her slippers so that her feet wouldn’t touch the cold floor, waddling her way to the door before shyly opening it, peeking at who it could be through the tiny crack in the opening, hoping whoever it was wouldn’t mind her current state: belly filled with pasta, hair knotty, giant shirt with sweatpants on and Harry’s patchwork cardigan hanging off her shoulders- which she had been wearing all day, cherishing the pretty piece of clothing and his scent imbedded in it, taking it all in just in case he asks for it back. She peeps at the torso of this mystery person, realising that Harry owns the jumper worn by them, before looking up and locking eyes with a worn out and tired eyed Harry, one hand in the pocket of the familiar hoodie and another extended out near the door, ready to knock again before freezing when it opens up all the way to show herself to her best friend. He doesn’t eye her up and down cheekily like he normally does when she is wearing pyjamas, wolf-whistling at her relaxed state, claiming that “You look runway-ready, my love! Do a twirl for the crowd, will you?”. Instead, he stares her right in the eyes with what looks like almost relief, before smiling a weak and broken smile.

One of them needed to break the silence or both would have just stared at each other in her doorway until the world exploded. So she starts.

“Hi.” her voice hovers a tinge above a whisper, almost as though if she dared to speak louder, this probable illusion of the one she loves would fade away. He lights up a little bit, probably relieved that she started the conversation.

“Hey,” his soft voice matched her volume and tone as if he too didn’t want this to be a dream. “May I come in?” The words sound awkward to her coming out of his mouth. Harry never had to ask for permission to be invited in- he usually just strolled in without so much as a holler to indicate he was present, finding amusement in scaring her instead while she was doing whatever she was doing, whether that be reading, watching a movie, cooking or napping. They were the best of friends and never had to inquire about entry to each other’s domains, along with other small things like if they had anything in their kitchens to eat or if they could sit somewhere, so hearing it was a little disheartening and provoked Y/n to think about how serious this situation was.

“Okay”, she replied after the pause of contemplation, opening the door fully so that the lanky boy could follow along behind her, like a little puppy. She didn’t like how awkward the situation was. She just wanted things to go back to what they were.

But then you wouldn’t be able to tell him you love him... her inner voice argued. And she agreed. She knew that yes, this will be awkward, but it’s an opportunity for him to listen to her and know that she isn’t joking.

“Would you like some tea?” She enquires. They’ll need to handle this like proper grown-ups (which in all honesty, isn’t their dynamic- it’s more like first-year uni students who are mature enough to have deep conversations but still laugh at dad jokes and anything remotely serious, like a painting with boobs), and from what she knows, or has seen in movies when the characters are being serious, is that you need tea or a drink of that sort and a sit down on the couch where you talk stuff out. So that’s exactly what she does.

“Yes please,” Harry’s soft voice replies as he toes off his boots that most definitely cost more than her apartment. Y/n nods and heads to the small kitchenette and flips the switch on the electric kettle before going into her cupboard that housed the mugs. Harry stood awkwardly near the sofas, and to save him the embarrassment of waiting while standing, Y/n invites him to sit with a small, “You can take a seat,” and a quick glance at him before returning her gaze to the mugs to make herself look busy. She didn’t want to look him in the eyes for more than three seconds in fear of bursting into tears and the worn out and tired sight of him. She shakes the thought out of her head and begins to prepare the mugs.

Y/n put two teabags in her mug while putting one in Harry’s. She was raised in a household of avid tea drinkers and she inherited her strong tea quirk from her father who would always keep two teabags with only a dash of milk, and the only difference between her tea and her fathers was that Y/n wasn’t strong enough to take her tea without sugar, unlike her father, who thought that drinking unbelievably concentrated leaf juice with milk was a fun and relaxing time. On the other hand, Harry liked to keep one tea bag in his mug while he drank it, but just like her father, he too took little to no sugar with his cup, being the health freak he was. And early in their friendship, when she mentioned it to him, Harry chuckled and chirped, “Your father is a smart man. He has to be for raising amazing and talented people like your siblings. I’m not sure what went wrong with you though...” while booping her nose as they laid together under a tree for a little picnic. And though she rolled her eyes at him and punched his shoulder for the sly dig at her, she was practically beaming at the fact that he thought her family was smart. Harry had no idea how much that meant to her. Y/n loved her entire family, and she was unbelievably close to them, so it made her entire week to know that Harry, someone she respected and loved so much, recognised how talented and smart each of her family members were. Don’t get her wrong, she didn’t need the validation to know that her family was amazing, but she felt so special knowing he took the time to notice. He did that a lot though. Doing things that meant a lot to her without batting an eye. Saying things that only a person as observant as he could notice, like complimenting her eye colour in the light and asking her to read for him because he constantly mentions how much he loves her voice.

Y/n looked over to the same sweet guy she fell head over heels for, who was sitting on her couch, fidgety as ever, and wondered if they would ever be the same after the very next moments to come. She didn’t want things to change between them, but she was dying inside knowing that he wasn’t hers. And getting over him was not in the question, after the fiasco that happened last week. She just wished she could get inside his head to sate her painful curiosity.

What is he thinking about?

**

What is she thinking about?

It’s the million-dollar question running through his mind. What was she pondering over as she made them tea? Did she want to talk to him? Was she mad that it took him so long to find the balls to face her? Was she as nervous as he was? Was she worried that they would never be the same again like he was?

He was going into panic mode, questioning everything, while probably looking stupid as ever. As much as he regretted how awkward things were now, and the fact that he instigated her to lash out at him a week ago, he was realising that he was not regretting the fact that he did it. He didn’t want her to go out with someone else, and she didn’t. And yes, of course, he feels bad-beyond bad, in fact- for making her cry, and wishes he could take it all back, he also sees this as an opportunity to tell her how he feels about her. He could finally tell her that he thinks about her all the time. About her soft smile, her bright eyes, her melodic laugh, her speaking voice that brings butterflies to his stomach. He could tell her about how he loses himself at work, the grocery store, fuck- even at events- thinking about what she was doing at her house. Was she under her blankets on her couch, watching some corny tv show? Was she baking her signature choc chip cookies that taste like the gods blessed every single biscuit on the tray before they were put in the oven? Was she knitting her cat, Chesnut, another rug to plonk herself down on, with her feet up on the ottoman as she listened to the 7 o’clock news on the radio? Was she writing a paper for another deadline? Something so sophisticated, like the exploration of white and male privilege and how it is ingrained in our society? Something that Harry tried to understand and research so that he could stay in the loop with his smart girl’s interests, but he always struggled with.

It was a huge insecurity of his. Not that his best friend was smarter than he was, no way. He treasured the fact that she could and would whip his ass at a debate on things like the state of the world, or human rights. She could school him on global politics, languages, maths, science, history and literally anything else, and he would be cheering her on. What he was insecure about was her realising that he was probably slowing her down in life. Y/n was well within her rights to kick him out of her life for being nothing but a freeloader and stopping her from reaching her full potential, what with him constantly stopping her from her own life to help him go through shit happening in his. Whenever he was sad, or confused, or upset, Y/n was the first person he would talk to and he feared that she would realise that he was probably taking advantage of her and stop talking to him. And that scared him. It scared him because he knew that she didn't need him at all, but he needed her to do anything in life. Every major and minor decision in his life has been approved by Y/n first, and not because she was a controlling friend who didn’t trust him with his own life, but because Harry needed her validation. Harry Styles, a world-famous superstar, had girls, guys and non-binaries at his feet, following his every beck and call. Harry Styles, who was on the cover of every magazine, known by every celebrity, dated only the most perfect of women, required validation from Y/n, a psychology major at a small university. Y/n, who liked to plan her day out on a to-do list, end up not doing anything on that to-do list and cry about it afterwards. Y/n, who breaks it down to “Murder She Wrote” by Chaka Demus & Pliers like it’s her last 4 minutes and 5 seconds alive on this Earth while making pancakes. Y/n, who cries more when she’s laughing while watching Tik Toks than she does during sad movies.

To celebrities, Y/n was nothing but a regular. But to Harry, she was all. She was the warmth of a sweater that you toss in the dryer for a few minutes to make it extra toasty. She was the pad of butter that you spread onto your pumpkin sourdough toast and it ends up being exactly the amount you wanted. She was the feeling when you are driving home from a long day of interviews and premiers, and you’re on the freeway and the windows down and you just… exist. She is the feeling you get when you watch Pride and Prejudice, and the relief of when you find the perfect word to end a lyric. She is when your shoes fit perfectly, and when you finish a book so utterly fulfilling that you lie there in a trance, looking up at your ceiling at 3 am, wondering how you could have been so lucky to be able to be blessed with an ending like the one you just read. Y/n was all those things and more.

And that’s why he had to tell her he loved her. No matter how scared he was.

***

The electric kettle is finished boiling the tea all too quickly as the bubbling comes to an end and the distinct click of the switch turning back off echoes around the silent apartment. Y/n had poured the scalding hot water into the two cups she had prepared stared into them.

It was time. She had tried to avoid this for as long as possible, but now it was the moment to face the music. She picked up the two mugs of tea and brought them to her lounge where Harry was sitting on her worn in green sofa, staring at her coffee table, eyebrows scrunched, pouted lips, deep in thought, before looking up at her with wide green eyes, and followed her to where she stood in front of him. She passed his mug to him before sitting on the comfy chair a few feet away from the sofa and from him, putting some distance in between them for her sake, so that she wouldn’t try to hug him and say sorry without saying what she needed to say first. Which she needed to start talking about now, so as not to sit in the awkward silence created by the two.

Say something!!

“So…’

Jesus fuck…. was that all you could think of? Wow. I am going to lose my best friend.

Y/n was choking.

“I am so sorry,” Harry’s voice intercepts, raspy from the lack of use, looking up from the coffee table he seemed so interested in. “I am so fucking sorry Y/n. I have no excuse as to why I was making fun of you that day. I pushed too far and I am a shit friend for not noticing that you were already on edge. It was so wrong of me and I am so sorry.” He stopped himself before he started to ramble, looking at her with eyes filled with an emotion she couldn’t decipher.

Y/n felt… unsatisfied. Why did she feel this way? He apologised, right? So why does she feel unfulfilled? Why does she want him to say more? He hit all of the points he had to for a standard apology, so why did she think he hadn’t done enough? Was it that little optimist in her brain hoping he would maybe reveal a slight attraction to her? Maybe tell her that he loves her, and has loved her forever and ever? Confess that she has bewitched him, body and soul so that she didn’t have to? God, was she an idiot. But a lovestruck idiot at that. She bites her tongue and replies.

“Harry, I forgive you. Although you were annoying as ever,” She rolls her eyes and smirks, while he lets out a breathy, half-assed chuckle, showing his acknowledgement at her attempt to ease the lowered yet still prevalent tension. She continues. “ I understand that you were just trying to have fun. I guess I was the one who irrationally lashed out . I am always okay with you poking fun at me, but I was just frustrated and tired and I took it out on you. I’m sorry for the improper communication and I’m sorry for pushing you away when we should’ve just talked…”

“I forgive you too. I think this was just miscommunication on both parts.” He stared into her eyes, almost as if he could sense the discontent in her, but chose to ignore it.

“I guess so.” She halfheartedly answered, not really knowing where to take the conversation next. They had both apologised, but evidently still had things to say. Well, Y/n had things to say, that’s for sure, but she was pretty sure that Harry wanted to say something too. He had that look on his face where he wanted to say something but was forcing himself not to.

What does he want to say? Why can’t he say it to my face? I mean, sure, I’m also hiding shit I wanna say, but I have an excuse. This could ruin our friendship. What does he have to say?

“Great,” Harry replies, trying to fill the awkward pauses and conversation that is being held. He still looked like he had something to say, but seemed like he was not budging.

Well, if he’s not saying anything, I’m not either. Why do I have to confess my feelings and put our friendship on the line if he isn’t even going to say what’s on his mind?

“So, are we good?”

“I don’t know. Are we? I mean, I forgive you and you forgive me, right?”

“Right… No yeah, we’re alright. We’re completely fine!” Y/n replies quickly. Why the fuck would you say that? You’re not fine.

There is a pregnant pause and Y/n has half a better mind to just get up, walk to the bathroom again with her head down and lock herself in there till he leaves again, because she cannot take this awkward conversation. Not with him. She shifts, ready to stand up to get some water, when Harry looks at her, confusion and slight panic setting into his face.

“Wait. I don’t think I’m fine…” She looks up at the boy sitting in front of her, reading the words from her mind like they were scribed on a piece of paper in the blackest of ink, permanent and bold. Her heart stuttered. What else did he want?

“Is everything okay, H?” she tentatively asks. He loses eye contact with her, gaze lowering towards the table in front of him

“I-” he pauses, trying to collect his thoughts while simultaneously trying to explain to her why he wasn’t okay. “I just- fuck” his head falls down, his face inches away from the hot tea in his hands, the humid steam billowing out of the mug and warming his elegant face as he takes a deep breath and tries once more to convey his thoughts. “I don’t want us to be friends again.”

Her heart stops. This could go one of two ways. He could either be confessing his hatred or his adoration for her, and either one would probably end with her imploding. She tries to take a neutral tone when she replies.

“What does that mean, H?”

He looks at her once more. “It’s not enough, Y/n... “

“What?” She is confused. Her friendship isn’t enough? How is she supposed to reply to that?

“I want more. I don’t want us to just be friends. I want to be more with you. I want to do more with you. I want to do things that friends… they shouldn’t do together…”

Is he trying to confess he likes her? Why, in all the ways you could speak, would he choose to speak like that?! She has had enough of him dawdling around his feelings. “Harry, stop being cryptic and fucking tell me what’s going on?!”

“I love you, Y/n! I fucking love you, Y/n. So much. And it is eating me from the inside out. I hate that we can’t be normal anymore, and I hate that you don’t love me the way I love you, but I cannot sit here and pretend everything is fine, because I love you.”

Y/n is stunned. Frozen in her spot. Can’t move, can’t speak, can’t breathe. Stuck in space, and stuck in time.

Holy fucking shit… he loves me…

While Y/n processes the life changing knowledge that her best friend loves her, her best friend conveniently sits next to her, wishing that he was dead for the letdown he was about to receive.

“Say something… please, for the love of God, say something!”

****

She looks up at Harry. Not Harry Styles, playboy, whore, singer, millionaire, but instead; Harry, her best friend of five years, reddened face out of embarrassment. She sees the mortality in his eyes. Feels his presence so heavily in the moment. She is in awe. True awe of him, and his ability to love her. And with that awe- and that stupid look on her face, she reaches up and cradles his face in her hands, brushing her thumbs softly over his plush pink lips. He stands just as still as her, barely breathing, as if it would shatter the fantasy to stardust and he would wake up in his bed, cold shivers running down his spine, as has happened previously whenever he thought of this moment, staring up at his ceiling at 3:40AM wondering why he thought of his best friend in such a way. She creeped closer to his face before stopping a breath away from him, and whispered.

“Is this okay?”

She looked into his eyes, and he looked into hers, both never feeling so alive before. He wishes to tell her that she needn’t ask for his permission, and that he wants to kiss her forever. Eternally locked in an embrace that holds their souls together. But all he can muster is a weak and broken whisper back.

“Please,”

She can hold it for no longer, and leans in the rest of the way, their lips moulding together, for the very first time, eyes fluttering close, as his hands reach to grab her by the hips to straddle him, deepening the kiss even further. And when they part for breath, panting for air with slightly moist lips, they touch foreheads, eyes still closed. Words needn’t be exchanged- everything that yearned to be said was useless, as it could never describe how they truly felt for each other. So hopelessly besotted with one another, that all they could do was breathe together before kissing once more, hoping that their actions could provide even an iota of an idea of how much they love one another.

Two best friends, turned lovers forevermore.

[artzychic27]

The Artist Family- The Malevolent Miraculous

No Master Fu, no Chat Noir, yes Hawkmoth and Mayura.

One night, the Artist Family went to the cemetery to play a game of Funeral. They just find roadkill, put it in a small coffin, and bury it

Marc: Come, sorrow. We welcome thee. Let us rejoice in despair, misery, tragedy, and honor the fortunate dead.

While Alix digs the grave, she finds something in the dirt. It’s a weird box

Alix: What is this?

Juleka: Hand it over. *She takes the box and closes her eyes for a few seconds* ...It’s cursed.

Nathaniel: Oh, maybe it’s Pandora’s box!

Juleka opens the box. The Artist Family expects tortured souls to fly out a wreak havoc all over Paris, but to their disappointment, there’s nothing but six pieces of jewelry

Rose: Aaw. No chaos and human suffering?

Marc: No chaos and human suffering.

Marinette: Only in our nightmares. At least we get free jewelry out of it.

Marinette takes the bat-wing earrings, Nathaniel- Shark Tooth Necklace, Marc- Ankle bracelet, Alix- Choker necklace, Rose-Wrap bracelet, Juleka- Belt

Once they put them on, an eerie black fog surrounds them

Alix: Alright, bring on the chaos!

Again, to their disappointment, small fairy-demon-bug-rat things appear in front of them

Bat- Screech, Spider- Fangg, Shark- Chompp, Hydra- Duuo, Kraken- Oarr, Tasmanian Devil- Rabbid

Screech introduces them as Kwamis, gods and goddesses who grant powers to those wearing the Miraculous

Juleka: We accept and shall do your bidding, creatures of darkness.

Screech: ... We’re not imps.

A week after getting acquainted with their Kwamis, Hawkmoth strikes and creates his first Akuma- A preppy, spoiled cheerleader whose boyfriend broke with her after how she treated his gothic sister

She’s called Princess Perfect, and has the power to turn people into her rose-gold armored knights using a beam shot from her phone

The Malevolent Miraculous team have some fun watching that puff Princess suffer

Nathaniel (Jaws) bit through the swords and shield wielded by the knights, leaving her without defense

Rose (Sinker) grossed her out by making magic tentacles wrap around her

Princess Perfect was horrified when Alix’s (Lerna) head grew back after her knights who still had swords sliced it off

Juleka (Sarcophilus) created a tornado that ruined her once flawless hair

Marc (Black Widower) may have given her nightmares after entangling her in a huge web that attracted some of his spider friends

And Marinette (Nocturna) made her regret ever speaking ill of goths/punks/emos (Anyone not all preppy and shit) by making her believe she went blind

Break object, catch Akuma, MIRACULOUS NOCTURNA! Black and Grey bats fix the damage

The citizens are hesitant to trust them due to their threatening demeanors, but soon warm up to them after they defeat three more Akuma

Nocturna: Only we may bring about discord and chaos, not some man in a butterfly costume.

Nadja: ... Right. Well, viewers, you heard it today! Paris has heroes!

Lerna: Nah, we just wanna-

Nadja: Yes! We have heroes!

Alya creates a blog- Miraculous Media

People immediately ship Jaws and Black Widower after seeing their interactions

Jaws: Do you plan to ensnare me in one of your webs, love?

Black Widower: Perhaps after you bite my arm off.

Same goes for Sinker and Sarcophilus

Thomas Astruc makes a movie, but does it right out of fear of enraging the team and having them watch him while he sleeps for the rest of his life. (They’re doing it to Chloé)

Adrien develops a crush on Nocturna after she slung him over his shoulder like a sack of flour to get him away from an Akuma

Now he’s conflicted, because he likes Marinette, too.

The Bluenette facepalms every time she sees him

Cue Lila. The Artist Family buys none of her lies

Marinette doesn’t bother trying to expose her. She just ignores her and allows her classmates to dig their graves and lie in them

Lila tries to impress them by saying she could introduce them to the Malevolent Miraculous Team. They just walk away and silently curse her

Steals book, park, pulls out fox necklace, claims it’s a lost Miraculous that’s way more powerful, Marc’s spiders ruin her chance of impressing Adrien by revealing its a Gabriel necklace

Cue Volpina. She tries to make the Malevolent Miraculous Team look like Villains due to how they look and their name

Big mistake

Nocturna summons darkness, Black Widower and Sinker trap her, and Jaws threatens her with his sharpened teeth

She immediately gives up her Akuma and stops telling lies... About the Malevolent Miraculous Team

Cue Mayura creating a giant Spider Sentimonster using Lila’s hatred towards Marinette for “Bewitching Adrien”

Black Widower is somehow able to tame the sentimonster and treats it like it’s a puppy

Wanna add on? Go right ahead.

P.S. I’m currently working on chapter 2 for the Artist Family. They’re going to school

[handy-dandy-monster-candy]

Ruathym, part Two

Rating: NSFW Words: 1219 Pairing: Male Drider x GN Reader

The second part of this dark “romance” for @kim-monsterlings

xxx

You play a game of cat and mouse, avoiding Ruathym in his own castle until he has no choice but to summon you through any servant who can manage to track you down. You learn the passageways like the back of your hand, daring to dart into any room at a moment’s notice to avoid the maids and soldiers and giant spiders that patrol the halls.

You’ve made a habit of crushing the little spies you find scuttling in the corners of the rooms you’re in for any period of time, checking every little crevice for webbing and four pairs of eyes. Instead of enraging him, your vehemence at maintaining some semblance of privacy seems to amuse Ruathym, who only continues to send smaller and smaller spiders to their deaths at your hands. Despite that, the back-and-forth between you two was just a way to pass the time. Ruathym himself never truly threatened or frightened you; that particular honour fell to his wife, the Queen.

Larger and more volatile in nature than Ruathym, the Queen hated the very air you breathed. An arranged marriage, there was no love lost in the relationship between the monarchs, but nevertheless there was a begrudging fondness between them that meant that she allowed you—his “pet”—to live. You learn very quickly to stay well out of her way, especially when she goes on one of her infamous rampages throughout the castle at any real or perceived slight.

The one spider you don’t avoid is Tinki, the kitten-sized spider that Ruathym gifted you with when you first arrived at the castle. Tinki is a colourful little ball of fluff who differs greatly from the earthy tones of most of the other spiders—incredibly venomous even to driders, but tame as a babe in your arms while you carry her around and rub her little thorax throughout your musings. She squeaks to let you know when you’ve been found, which is the only reason you see Ruathym coming before he can get a literal jump on you in the castle gardens.

“There you are.”

“Here I am,” you sigh back at the King, placing Tinki on your shoulder and scratching along her head as she wiggles her pleasure.

Ruathym lifts his brows. “I wasn’t aware I’d gotten a parrot. Get out of the dirt, you filthy little worm.”

“Worms are good for the earth,” you feel the need to reply, needling him even as you make yourself obey.

“And they’ll eat your eyes out when you’re dead,” Ruathym shoots back, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against him.

You grimace. “Charming.”

Ruathym looks amused. “You can’t avoid me forever.”

“I can try.”

“And waste both of our lives? You’d be better off humouring the man helping you carry out your schemes.”

“I see no man,” you flatly reply, keeping your eyes on the King’s chest. “Only a very big bug.”

“Arachnid,” Ruathym grits out, though you can still hear a smile in his voice. “We eat little insects like you.”

You roll your eyes. “Bitch, bitch, posture, posture. What is it you want? I’m not giving it up in the garden again. You got thorns in my thighs the last time.”

Ruathym laughs, and you curse yourself for thinking that it’s one of the only truly lovely things about him. “I came to tell you that we’ve broken their ranks,” he says, startling you into a rare bout of speechlessness. “I have agents poised to strike at your beloved brother at my command. All you have to do is say the word.”

You take a moment to gather your thoughts. You remember being stabbed in your sleep in the shattered safety of your chambers by one of your most trusted advisors, the people turned against you by your charismatic younger brother. You remember your flight from the palace, stumbling and bleeding in the dark, the barking of hounds at your heels. You’d stolen a horse and fled into the forest, but the huntsmen chased you all the way to the cliffs where you tumbled with the poor beast into the frigid waters below.

You remember drowning, and you remember coming up for air against the rocks of the far shore after what felt like hours of being battered against rocks and down several mercifully small waterfalls. There, you were picked up by a scout of the driders who recognised your face, and you were saved from the brink of death just so that Ruathym could interrogate you and strike your deal.

Your fingers find the fresh scar tissue on your chest through your clothing, ice growing in the pit of your stomach. Ruathym is watching you expectantly when you finally look up into his ruby red eyes, and you give a short, sharp nod. “Do it.”

The King of the Driders flashes a feral grin down at you, all sharp teeth and gleaming fangs. Days later, distant smoke curls black and acrid from the direction of your former home, and you know the deed is done. You feel no triumph or grief; the fields in your heart have all but been salted, leaving you feeling only raw and tired. You almost sag back against Ruathym when he wraps his arms around you from behind like he had all those nights ago, drawing you away from the balcony and undressing you slowly. You don’t quite know why you allow it—the terms of the agreement had been fulfilled, after all—but you know that there is nothing left for you now that isn’t ash.

This time, when Ruathym takes you to bed, you don’t offer the token struggle. Instead, you surge up into his kisses with a desperate sort of passion, hands working the man’s thick, slippery cock once it slips free of his body. There’s a question in his eyes and you’re grateful that he doesn’t voice it, instead pushing you down against the bed and caging you in with his limbs. You hook your legs around his slender hips and push up into his thrusts when he slides into you, ignoring the burn of the stretch in your search for pleasure—for the ecstasy that you know will make it so that you don’t have to think about what you’ve done.

That night, he’s especially rough with you, but you’re not gentle with him, either. You pull his hair and bite his lips until he hisses and swears and fucks you until your voice breaks. He claws at you when you ride his dick, breaking skin, but you can’t bring yourself to care as his neurotoxin obliterates every flicker of coherent thought you might have had, leaving you a wanton mess. He’s never touched you this way before, kissed you this way before, fucked you this way before; it’s as if you’ve awoken something in him, primordial and deadly, and you’ve become his willing prey. You come hard when he pushes you over the edge again and again, fingers cramping in the sheets, spine arching until you’re almost bent backwards in his arms.

You regain consciousness later in the night with his fingers in your hair petting you as gently as one would pet a sleeping pup, and you know in your heart that you will never leave him. You have nowhere else to go.

[thenovelartist]

Burned Beginnings, chapter 2

<<Previous  Next>>

4. Best Friends

In the month or so he’d been working there, Adrien hadn’t worked much with Marinette. Tonight, though, he’d be running a night shift with her.

“Adrien, I would never say anything bad about my daughter,” Mr. Dupain said with a sympathetic expression. “But if she gives you trouble, don’t hesitate to tell me.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Adrien dismissed. “I’m pretty sure I know why she acts like that.”

“What was that?” Mrs. Cheng asked, entering the kitchen.

Mr. Dupain looked confused for a moment, and Adrien thought it wouldn’t hurt to explain everything to them. This was their employee and daughter, after all. If Adrien were in their shoes, he’d like to be in the know. “A childhood friend of mine is Chloe Bourgeois.”

In an instant, Mrs. Cheng nodded as though she understood. “I already see where this is going.”

“I don’t know all the details, but they were seemingly at each other’s throats often. And from what I can guess, one of those topics that set them off was apparently me. But that’s only my best guess.”

“As much sense as that makes,” Mrs. Cheng said, “that’s still no excuse for Marinette to act that way around you, and she knows it. If it continues, Adrien, I’ll have a talk with her.”

“Don’t,” Adrien cut in. “Really, she’s free to think that way. I don’t hold it against her.”

The two owners exchanged a look Adrien couldn’t quite decipher before turning back to him.

“Well,” Mr. Dupain said, a slightly forced smile on his face. “Maybe tonight will give you two a chance to break the ice.”

Adrien shrugged. “Only if she’s open to it. But don’t bug her about it, okay?”

“Sorry, Adrien, but I can’t keep that promise,” Mrs. Cheng spoke up. “Because no matter what you think of each other, this is a bakery that needs to function at its best. And it won’t be if she refuses to cooperate with you.”

“We won’t tell her what to think,” Mr. Dupain said. “But my wife is right: Marinette can be a bit stubborn at times. I feel like you two are somehow similar in that way.”

Adrien snorted. Him? Similar to Marinette? He doubted it. She had way more fire in her than he did, and he was not going to press his luck and get burned by it.

Still, upon seeing the earnestly worried looks on his bosses’ faces, he wouldn’t press the issue. “I’ll try breaking the ice, but I’m not forcing her.”

Mr. Dupain sighed, but his smile widened. “You’re a really good kid, Adrien. I knew I made the right choice in hiring you. Thanks for being such a good sport.”

Adrien wouldn’t deny how nice it felt to be complimented like that. “Thank you, sir.”

…

Adrien fully expected a mouth full of sarcasm and sass that night. Shockingly, it never came.

“So,” she said, holding the special-order sheet out for him to see. “I’ll run you through how orders like these are taken, and then I’ll show you how to plan for them and complete them, okay?”

He didn’t fully trust that she’d just dropped the cold shoulder overnight for no reason. Therefore, he wouldn’t push his luck. “Understood.”

Throughout the whole process, Marinette didn’t take it slow like Mr. Dupain would have. She ran through things quickly and efficiently, yet she paused frequently to ensure he understood.

“Okay,” she said, placing the special-order sheet off to the side once she’d finished explaining everything. “Then I’ll start on this portion of the order if you want to do this one?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Okay, I’ll let you get started. Tell me if you need anything or have any questions.”

Eventually, the two of them fell quiet as they each worked on their part of the order. Adrien could tell Marinette still held a cold shoulder towards him, but it wasn’t so bad as before. And after a while, he decided that maybe he did want to push his luck tonight.

“You hate me.”

Marinette froze, glancing up at him for barely a second before returning to her work. “What makes you say that?”

“You’re really cold towards me.”

She didn’t respond.

He saved her the trouble. “I know it has something to do with Chloe.”

Again, she spared him another glance. “Won’t deny that.”

Adrien paused in his work as he thought about the words he wanted to say next. “I don’t want to force it out of you, but I kinda want to know why.”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because we’re co-workers and your parents are nice, so I thought we could at least get to a place we could cooperate well for the sake of the bakery.”

Marinette took her time thinking about it, turning on the giant mixer she stood by. “Yeah, my parents don’t deserve it,” she eventually whispered before turning to him. “And I know that.”

Adrien dropped the dough in his hands onto the counter. “How about this,” he said, leaning against the counter. “I’ll give you the next 30 seconds to spill any and all your beef with me. I won’t take it personally, and I won’t hold it against you. From what I understand, you and Chloe were practically mortal enemies, and so I can imagine me having been close to her doesn’t endear me to you.”

She huffed, bemused. “Well, you’re right about that.”

“So you can start whenever you’re ready.”

Marinette fidgeted for a moment before glancing into the mixer again to see how the dough was coming along. With a sigh, she turned towards Adrien and slapped her hands against the counter.

The fire in her eyes almost made Adrien regret this decision. Almost. He was both terrified yet turned on.

“Chloe was my school bully for almost every single year of my schooling,” she began, not bothering to hide the bite in her tone. “It is her fault I got my first suspension, and in some way, she was the reason for every one that came after. And then, because of all ofthat drama, I was barred from every single university I thought about attending. And it sucks when the rug is ripped out from under you like that. So forgive me if I’m not so willing to open up to the guy Chloe practically worshiped like a Greek god, because the last person I wanted to have started working here, excluding Chloe, was her lover.”

Adrien froze, listening to those words. They took way too long to register in his head, and when they did, he felt his stomach twist into knots. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he cried, backing up and waving his hands before him. “Who are you calling Chloe’s lover?”

“You, of course. Unless you want to deny that.”

“The hell? Yes I want to deny that!” Adrien cried. “No. No no no! What the hell would give you that impression?”

She quirked a challenging brow. “Do you knowhow she talked about you?”

“No, but if the conversation is going to go the way I think it is, I really don’t want to.”

“She constantly was talking about how strong you were,” Marinette said, clearly ignoring him on purpose if that grin and her mocking tone was anything to go by. “As if she had personally run her hands over your body.”

Adrien felt like he was going to be sick.

“And then she talked a couple times about your bedroom and how she was adamant your silk sheets were the most luxurious of any she’s ever known. Oh, and before my thirty seconds are up, I’m going to toss in that she constantly bragged about how you were on her side, and how when you told all your friends about me, they all agreed I was the Queen Bitch of Paris. There, I’m done.”

Unable to do much more than hang his red face in shame, he took a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts before meeting her gaze again. When he did, the bitter smile on her face proved how much Chloe had hurt her, and used his name to do it. “I am no longer surprised you hate me.”

She just hummed.

“Marinette, I swear on my dearly departed mother’s grave that never happened.”

Marinette looked mildly surprised at his words.

“Really,” he continued. “Chloe and I were childhood friends because our mothers were friends. I never saw her as anything more than that, and I never did… that with her. Never even consideredit. No. Just…” He grimaced at the thought. “No. And secondly, yes, I did hear a lot of stories about you from Chloe. That you were a ‘royal bitch’ and you harassed her and spread all sorts of nasty rumors about her around school.”

Marinette shrugged dismissively. “Well, in the spirit of being honest with you, I won’t deny any of that.”

Adrien paused for a second, surprised at her easy admission, before shaking his head. “And in the spirit of getting along with my co-worker, I’ll let that go. The point I was making was that while I heard all the stories about you, I never told anyone. I don’t really even have anyone I’d consider a friend. Co-worker or acquaintances, sure, but no friends. No, actually…” He held up a finger in realization. “I kinda lied there. I might, in conversation, have complained about Chloe’s constant complaining about some girl harassing her. I’m pretty sure that ended in my co-worker hoping you’d give her more hell because Chloe deserved it.”

Marinette snorted, the corner of her lips quirking up while a mischievous light in her eye twinkled.

Adrien had to take a moment to recollect his thoughts, pulling them away from ‘cute spunky bakery girl’ back to the current topic. “So, uh… there you go. Truth all out on the table. And I’ll work hard to prove that to you if you give me a chance.”

A short silence slipped between the two of them, one only broken by Marinette walking back over to the giant mixer to check on the dough again. She turned it off and pulled the bowl over to the counter. “Well,” she finally said, heaving the giant doughball onto the counter. “I’ll consider your request if you answer one more thing for me.”

A weight he hadn’t realized was on his chest lifted with those words. “Yeah, sure.”

She grabbed a bench scrapper and scale to begin portioning out dough balls. “Why does a model want to work in a bakery, of all places?”

“Normalcy.”

“Normalcy?”

“A life of glitz, glamor, money, fame, and girls throwing themselves at you gets old after a while, especially if you never wanted it in the first place.”

Marinette regarded him with surprise for a moment before she turned back to weighing the dough.

“I wanted out,” Adrien continued. “So, I rebelled a bit until my dad kicked me out. With no obligation to live that life anymore, I get to figure things out on my own. I get to be a regular eighteen-year-old who’s figuring out what he wants to actually do with his life and hold down a real job in the meantime.”

Marinette paused, listening to his words. “So, that’s what this job to you? Real-life experience?”

“Yeah.”

Her lips pursed in thought, but slowly, she nodded. “I can respect that.”

Adrien bit his lip. “So, um… can we call this a truce of sorts? A mutual understanding, maybe? For the sake of working together and your parents’ bakery running smoothly?”

She quirked a brow up at him before sighing. “I don’t think we’ll ever be best friends,” she began. She then extended a hand towards him. “But I guess I can stop acting like a ‘royal bitch’ towards you.”

With a smile, Adrien took her extended hand and shook it. “For the record, I never held it against you, ice princess.”

She scoffed, her lips quirking up to the side. Again, Adrien felt his chest tighten at the sight. “Don’t call me that, or I’ll go right back to ‘royal bitch’.”

He chuckled, a warmth easing though him. “Whatever you say.”

5. Jagged Stone

Help me

Those were the words Adrien mouthed at her as she passed the bakery kitchen.

It was her day off, and when she’d come back home after going out for the day, she’d passed a long line of customers who wanted their baked goods and wanted them now. Her maman looked to be handling things well enough, but then again, Maman was completely unflappable.

Adrien, on the other hand, looked to be drowning in work.

Day off she mouthed back with a wink.

That’s when Adrien had the audacity to look appalled, pantomiming being stabbed through the heart and slowly sinking behind the tall bakery tables.

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes. What. A. Weirdo.

Popping back up from behind the table, he shot her a grin that looked a little tired before finishing assembling a tray of goods as quickly as he could.

Deciding she’d take pity on him, Marinette grabbed an apron and tied it around her waist. “I will only assist in icing and bringing goods to the front.”

Adrien’s grin brightened. “Your assistance in any capacity is something I will gladly take.”

After turning off the faucet and shaking excess water from her hands into the sink, Marinette dried her now clean hands and went to work assembling the large pile of macrons. After that large bakery order they had to work together on last month, Marinette had been forced to swallow her pride and eat crow. Adrien wasn’t at all the model Chloe had used to brag about. Instead, Marinette was surprised to find he was actually down-to-earth. While his looks screamed ‘rebel’, he wasn’t a scoundrel. He took care to do his job to the best of his ability and was quick to pick up any new tricks or skills he was taught. For that, Marinette could admit her past prejudice and say he was a good coworker.

He also seemed to open up a bit more to her, as well, slowly exposing the fact he had a decent sense of humor.

No wonder he and her father got along well.

An hour later, the rush had finally died down. Marinette had bounced back and forth between the kitchen and the front, both retrieving pastries and boxing them. Currently, she stood in the kitchen appraising the situation.

“Wow,” she said, taking in the massive amounts of icing, crumbs, and white dust—who knew if it was flour or icing sugar—that covered the kitchen. “This… is a train wreck.”

Adrien simply nodded.

“Well, good luck with that!” Marinette patted his shoulder with a wicked smile before spinning on her heel and heading out of the kitchen.

“Whoa, hey! You’re not gonna help me?”

She looked over her shoulder, unable to keep her grin from widening. “You’re lucky I helped you in the first place.”

Adrien tossed his head back and heaved a sigh. “Fiiine.”

She couldn’t help but laugh as she took off her apron and replaced it on the hook by the kitchen door.

“Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for the help,” Adrien said, giving her an earnest smile. “Seriously, you saved my butt.”

If it were her parents, she’d just shrug it off. But this was Adrien, and she found that she quite liked having the upper hand on him. “Maybe I should have told you before,” she began, not bothering to temper her teasing tone as she slowly stepped up to him, “but I don’t do favors for free.”

His grin grew, and his eyes got a little sparkly. He was onto her game, but he looked like he was going to play along. “Yeah? So I’m in your debt now?”

“Mm-hmm,” she said with a smile. “And don’t worry, I’ll be sure to abuse the privilege.”

Adrien laughed. “I’m sure you will, you little minx.”

She shot him a wink before spinning on her heel again and strutting out of the kitchen.

“One last thing before you go?”

She turned towards him, eyebrow raised. “Yeah?”

He pointed at her t-shirt, one she got from the Jagged Stone concert she went to last year with her girl friends. “You have great taste in music.”

She grinned. “Thank you,” she said with a wink. “I’m classy that way.”

6. Anime

“I’m sorry, repeat that for me?”

Adrien chuckled. “What? Don’t you know anime has ridiculous titles at times?”

Marinette gave him a look as though he’d grown a second head before shaking hers. “You know what, no. I don’t even know why I’m surprised. You…” She pointed her finger at him while trying to give him a look, but Adrien could see the hint of a smile on her lips. “You are weird,and I know this about you. Of course, you watch anime over regular tv.”

Adrien scoffed. “Please, regular tv is trash. Anime is an art form.”

Marinette rolled her eyes at him, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. Ever since the night they had to work together to complete a large special order, Marinette had defrosted her icy attitude towards him. While he was thankful because it helped to be on good terms with coworkers, he was rather happy to get to know the girl underneath the cold exterior. She was a natural spitfire, a total tease, and had a great smile he’d do anything to bring out of her. She wasn’t just a pretty face, though he couldn’t deny that he quite liked that, too. If this persisted, Adrien thought she might actually become trouble for his heart.

And times like this made him believe he might just be okay with that.

“You are a regular nerd, aren’t you?” Marinette sassed, grinning as she easily piped the icing on a cupcake.

“Total otaku.”

“I have no clue what that is.”

“If you watched anime, you would know.”

“I’m good.”

Adrien snorted, going back to his own work piping macron cookies onto a baking sheet. After four months of working here, he’d finally gotten the hang of piping perfectly circular and even cookies.

“Honestly,” Marinette continued, not letting up her sass. “I feel like a pair of glasses would suit you better than the rebel look. Pins you for the nerd you are.”

“Aww, but princess—”

“I thought we were over the nickname,” she deadpanned, shooting him an unamused glare.

His grin widened. “Not a chance—there is a rule in anime that guys with glasses are considered hotter.”

Marinette huffed, amused. “Really?”

“Totally.”

“You made it up.”

“No, but it is unofficial.”

“Knew it.”

“But the point stands that you would not be able to handle me in my glasses.”

At that, Marinette raised a brow at him. “You wear glasses?”

He nodded. “I wear contacts here because I don’t want them to fog up in the fridge or steam by the oven or get covered in flour. The point of glasses is to be able to see clearly, and therefore, the purpose is rendered mute if they get dirty in a kitchen.”

“Fair point,” Marinette relented, going back to her cupcakes. “Still don’t believe that glasses automatically make guys hotter. Isn’t it supposed to be the opposite? You whip off the nerd specs and bam!Instant hunk?”

“Tell you what,” Adrien said, putting town the piping bag in his hands so he could fully direct his attention on her. He was finished with the cookies, anyway. “I will come into work one day wearing my glasses, and if you take even a second to stare at me in surprise, you have to watch an anime of my choice.”

Marinette regarded him with a flat look for a minute before that smirk of hers came back. “You’re really working the anime angle, aren’t you?”

“Shamelessly,” he admitted, leaning ever closer to her. “So, what do you say?”

Marinette grinned, eyes gleaming with defiance. “Bring it on. Glasses or no, you’re not getting any reaction out of me.”

Knowing her, that would likely be the case, but deep down, Adrien did hold a little hope that she’d be surprised. He thought he was over wanting attention, but apparently, when it came to her, all rules went out the window.

And at the moment, he found himself perfectly fine with that.

[beskarberry]

Krayt’s Teeth

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 3 (The Mandalorian x f!reader)

The sound of crashing and shouting was hot on your tail, the other hunters had followed you and were gaining fast. You saw a light rapidly approaching ahead of you, and the two of you burst out into the brilliant daylight to the worst possible place: a dead fucking end.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 6.7k

Content warnings: Canon typical violence, killing in self defense, headcanon angst, FLUFF, sensory deprivation, body worship, oral sex (f receiving).

A/N: These are my headcanons regarding Mandalorian culture in terms of sex, I didn’t find much lore on it so whether it’s accurate or not idk but I like them and that’s all that matters! Enjoy~

<-Previous Next->

You could have slept forever, even on that horrible little cot you were so comfortable that you could have been out for days, but the only one on it was you. You did’t know when Mando got up from the tiny space you both shared through the night, or how he managed to get out from your tangled bodies without waking you up. You opened your eyes to tiny green baby hands tugging at your fingers. 

“Hey booger, is it time for breakfast? Where’s your papa?” You started to sit up, but the horrible sticky mess underneath you made you reluctant to move, a mix of passion and pain from the day before. “Yikes. I’m gonna run all his water out if I have to keep using the fresher. Come on, let’s get scrubbed up.” The baby gibbered excitedly at you, though you weren’t sure how much of what you said he actually understood. You scooped him into your arms without looking back at the sad little cot and all its stains. “You’re water proof, right?”

The ship’s engines were rumbling away, so you guessed tin man was up in the cockpit flying you towards your next bounty. Or Nevarro. You would have to find Mr. Mystery later, the grossness that was you had to be dealt with. Between you and the child your shower took forever, the two of you getting water and soap bubbles from top to bottom. You didn’t care. You had been on Tatooine for months without having a real shower, being consigned to the sonic freshers that vibrated the sand off of the moisture farmer’s bodies; and this was the second real shower you’d gotten to have in twice as many days. You spent a good deal of time trying to get your chatty friend to hold still long enough to be dried off, the little fart squealing with joy every time you went for him with the towel.

An ordeal later you were both fresh and presentable, but your host was still nowhere to be seen, though the ugly sheets had thankfully disappeared from view. The ship was quiet now, without the engine running you knew you had to be back on the ground, and you could hear a distinct hum of activity coming through the walls. Space port? He flew us into town? The thought was replaced immediately with a rich, savory smell coming through the air vents: FOOD! Your gut grumbled loud enough to resonate through the cabin and earn you a confused look from the baby. When was the last time you really ate? You’d been living on ration packs for the last couple of days. That was going to change right now.

“Ya hungry buddy? Me too! Maybe that’s where your dad is, hmm?” Grabbing your old backpack and hooking the baby under your arm you started punching buttons on the wall to get the door open, sending walls sliding and cabinets opening before you got one of the access ramps open. Bright double sunlight nearly blinded you, and on reflex you covered the baby’s giant googly eyes. It took a moment for your own to adjust to the radiant light of the Tatooine morning, and the smell of cooking food hit you like a ton of bricks, making your mouth water. As your eyes adjusted you were able to take in your surroundings: though it was bright outside you were parked low inside a maintenance bay, the walls of which soared high above you; littered with engine parts and humming with droid activity. Sound was the last input your hungry brain could process, but when it did you didn’t like what you heard. The sounds of an argument echoed around the hangar, high and shrill.

“I already told you, you can’t park here! You’re bad for business!”

“I just need to park here long enough to get supplies.”

“Well you’re gonna have to pay up, Mando! I’m not running a charity here! You got credits for supplies you got credits for parking! Up front this time!”

Oh no.

Of all the mechanics and docking hangars in Mos Eisley he had to pick this one. The fireball of a woman barely came up to your partner’s chest, but she made up for it with unbridled fury; and the giant cooked animal leg she was swinging around like a club between bites made her look even more formidable. She noticed you coming down the ramp and stopped grilling your comrade long enough to glare daggers through your skull.

“Oh NO! No nope nuh uh! You can turn right back around and get back on that ship, missy! I knew it! I knew you were bad for business, Mando! What’re you doing running around with her? I hope she’s your bounty because she’s your problem!”

“Peli.” Your words were cold as ice, but the squirming baby in your arms took all the malice out of your stance. He wiggled until you set him down, and he ran towards the mechanic with open arms.

“Baby! You can stay but your dad’s gotta take the mean lady somewhere else! She cheats at sabacc!”

“You lost fair and square, Peli! Try playing a better hand next time!”

“Ladies please!”  Mando cut through your bickering, holding his arms up between the two of you like he was trying to corner a pair of wild blurgs. “If I let the child stay with you for the day, will you let me park the Razor Crest here? Just for a couple hours?”

Peli bounced the child on her hip, offering him a bite of her breakfast. The baby squealed happily while he sank his little teeth into the mighty snack, though the size of it comically dwarfed his itty bitty hands. “I’ll tell you what, you let me keep him and then maybe I’ll let you park here in a week.” Mando cocked his helmet at her with disdain and she huffed loudly, “Well if you put it that way, I guess you can park here, but you gotta put five hundred credits down, and not a cent less!”

Mando reeled, stabbing his hands to his hips with indignation. “Five hund- absolutely not! What am I going to buy our-” You interrupted his tirade with a hand on his shoulder, waving a slew of credits in front of his eyes. Peli snatched them out of your hand, fanning them out like cards to count them.

“Who’d you cheat these outta?”

“Don’t worry about it.” You leaned casually against your metal man, eyeing Peli with a smug look on your face. “Let’s go, Mando. Bye baby green bean, have fun with Auntie Cheats-at-Sabacc!” You spun him around by the hand and dragged him towards the exit, ignoring the insults being slung at your back. “We are getting breakfast and that’s final!”

The Mandalorian allowed you to pull him along a few feet before grinding his heels into the sand, shaking his head. “You have to stay here.”

Now it was your turn for sassy head tilts. “I just paid for your parking, buckethead, that makes me in charge and I’m hungry! I’ll buy you breakfast too if you want.” He didn’t budge, fixing you with that intense stare of his and grabbing you by the shoulders.

“You are still being hunted. Mos Eisley isn’t safe for you.”

Ah.

You knew you could look after yourself, and he himself had compared you to a ferocious rancor just yesterday. You groaned loudly, “Shit balls of hell. But dad, I’m huuunngry!” The man bristled at your paternal harassment, sighing heavily and letting his helmeted head fall to the side like the world was ending. He glanced around the hangar exit, his shiny beskar snapping to each object of interest until he located a protocol droid corpse that was missing everything from the waist down. He strode over to it and held it down with one boot, yanking it by the head until it popped off. He began prying the droid’s vocorder apart at the mouth, pulling it wide until the droids face plate broke off with a snap! Tossing the rest of the logic processing unit to the ground, he held the face plate up to the light, inspecting the clarity of its photo receptor casings. He bent back down to the junk pile and fished out a stray wire to thread through the ruined audio processors, then tossed the finished creation to you.

“Put that on.”

You turned the makeshift mask over in your hands to check for sharp edges before you pressed it to your face. The bug eyes on the front were dirty, but you could see well enough. Before you could clean them more thoroughly you felt the weight of fabric on your head, his cloak now worn as your own. The thought of how you must look made you giggle. “You make me take my clothes off, now you want me to put clothes on. It never ends with you, Mando. Next you’ll be forging me beskar. Now can we eat something, please?” Without a word the armored man turned on his heel and walked out the hangar exit. I’ll take that as a yes.

Mos Eisley buzzed with life, people and animals and things you couldn’t explain made their way up and down the bustling streets. The smell of food led you to a vendor selling something that could have been a root vegetable, covered in herbs and spices and grilled to perfection. You couldn't wait, all thoughts of self-preservation went out the window as you hauled ass to the stand, waving two fingers in the air. When you had both of your prizes in hand you stuffed the savory veggie under your mask, sighing contentedly at the taste of real honest-to-Maker food. “Hey tin man, I hope you like... whatever this-” You turned to offer your partner something to eat, but he had disappeared from the crowd. “Alright... more for me.”

Taking a newspaper from the vendor you wrapped the extra snack up tight and threw it in your pack for later, continuing to chow down on your own. You would find Mando eventually, and you had credits to spend. You had held onto your hush-money for months to avoid suspicion, but now it was burning a hole in your pocket. Wandering the streets of Mos Eisley from merchant to merchant you began accumulating a small hoard of supplies, ranging from bacta to hand tools, and food. Whatever you could get your hands on that would survive hyperspace when you inevitably left this fucking dirtball for good; though you still weren’t convinced that you wouldn’t be making that flight in carbonite. You picked out new clothes and underwear, a much-needed bedroll, and some soft bantha-wool blankets. Something further down the marketplace caught your eye, and you made your way to the fancier items that glittered in the double daylight. You didn’t wear jewelry yourself, a poor choice of attire for a hunter, but the way the trinkets caught the light still made you wistful. Your hidden eyes danced over the glittering treasures; jewels and geodes that had been found deep in the sands and polished to a radiant shine.

You spotted something opalescent at the end of one table and found a pair of krayt teeth, each about the size of your palm. They had been sanded to a smooth, flat finish and carved with intricate desert patterns. The backs of them had tiny fittings that could be sewn on as buttons, or pulled off to reveal magnets. Something about their shape seemed familiar, though you couldn’t imagine why in that moment. You purchased the unique pieces anyway, something to remind you that even the harshest of places could hold hidden beauty. After a while you had so much junk piled in your arms that you could barely see over it, and tin man was nowhere to be found. You spotted a courier droid and paid for it to deliver your treasures back to Hanger 3-5, though you kept the pricey teeth in your pockets. With your arms free you started looking for your missing comrade.

The streets were busy with people, you would have to get somewhere out of the way in order to scan the crowds. Your eyes went from shimmer to shimmer, looking for his reflective chrome dome. “Big jerk,” you mused to yourself “‘Mos Eisley’s not saaafe...’ If he’s so worried then where the hell is he? Bah!” The scratched-up photoreceptor casings of your mask made it a challenge to see through the crowd, and you took a moment to adjust the iris apertures so you wouldn’t have to keep squinting into the double sunshine when you felt a hand on your back. Finally. “Mando, where have you-”

“Mando? Whos’sis man-do? Nah sssweetheart, I think you got me confused wi’ sssomeone elssse.” The slithering voice in your ear made your blood run cold. Not Mando! You rocketed your elbow backwards, connecting with the gut of the stranger on your back with an -oof! The hand let go long enough for you to make a run for it, and you tore off down the streets of the busy spaceport, smashing into bystanders in your wake. You cast a quick look behind you to see a large reptilian body flying after you, brownish scales catching the reflection of the noonday suns. Though you had your blaster, the risk of hitting a civilian was too great, so running would have to do. You were thankful for the courier droid that had freed your hands just minutes before as you barreled down the busy streets.

Market stalls flew past you, your boots kicking up sand and dust. The mask on your face, as dirty as it was, kept the debris from your eyes as you raced through the sunburnt city. You had to lose this fucker and fast. You turned down an alley, left, right, another right, leaping over supply crates and low fences like a lothcat. You turned to see if you had lost your chaser, breath heaving and heart pounding. Behind you was clear, but you took your eyes off your path for just a second too long, and were taken by surprise when a heavy weight fell on you from above.

The Trandoshan had gone over the low sandstone roofs, chasing you easily through the alleyways of Mos Eisley while you were none the wiser. He pinned you under him quickly, ripping your blaster off your hip and pointing your own barrel in your face. “Tha’ss enough, princesss! Nice n’ quietlike now. You gonna make me a pretty penny you are.” The lizard’s words dripped with metaphorical venom, though you were sure by the look of those fangs that real venom was probably right behind. “Ahm gonna cart yer arse right back to th’ Guild’n I’ll become th’ most famous hunter in th’ galax -urk!”  With a sickening gag the hunter above you grew a shiny new fang in the back of his throat before falling down dead on top of you, a vibroblade protruding from back of his skull.

“Took you long enough!” You hollered at your chrome companion, who was stepping forward to kick the carcass off of you. “Where the fuck have you been? Getting your rifle polished?” He pulled you to your feet, handing you your blaster while readjusting the mask on your face. You swatted at his fussing hands, but when you looked at him you were shocked to see not one but three blinking bounty fobs dangling from his belt. On the ground by the dead lizard was a fourth, flashing rapidly in the sand.

“I told you you weren’t safe! We need to leave right now.”  You were barely able to grab the remaining bounty fob while you were being tugged away by your allied hunter. He had a death grip on your hand, pulling you along behind him towards what you hoped was the docking hangar. You would have to cross the main street to get there, and as the pair of you plowed across the dusty, busy road there came shouts from either side. More hunters, fucking Guild! You didn’t have a single second to assess them before you were lead through an alley on the other side of the street. These were darker than the ones you had run through on the west side of town, and shady bodies moved quickly out of the way of your living locomotive.

At the end of a narrow alley you both burst through a door leading into an abandoned building. The darkness was almost worse than the blinding sunlight, you would need time for your eyes to adjust but the Mandalorian had enough sensory detection equipment that he ghosted through the ruinous building with ease; never once letting go of your hand as you tripped and stumbled through the dark. The sound of crashing and shouting was hot on your tail, the other hunters had followed you and were gaining fast. You saw a light rapidly approaching ahead, and the two of you burst out into the brilliant daylight to the worst possible place: a dead fucking end.

“There! Get down!” Mando pointed at a pile of rubble, probably big enough to hide behind, but that’s not how you handled business.

“Fuck you! I’m not going down without a fight!” You pulled your blaster out and aimed at the incoming assailants. He growled at you and stepped closer, putting his body in between you and the door. The reptilian hunters burst from the darkness of the warehouse, firing rapid shots of blaster charges that bounced off of Mando’s beskar. You fired over his protective arm, taking out the first one and tripping up the second, who fell over his cohorts limp body. Mando took shot after shot to the chest, reeling with each impact. His other arm cocked back and shot out, sending a wall of fire into the last of the Guild’s hired guns.

Both of you were panting, shaking and sweating from flying through Mos Eisley, but the sound of blaster fire would draw attention and you knew there was no time to waste. You stepped over the incinerated corpse, making sure the fob it carried was melted, the second body still squirmed in the dirt, and you weren’t going to let it get a second chance, firing your blaster through it’s scaly skull. You picked the remaining two fobs and stuffed them in your pockets, making a run for it back through the building with Mando right behind, the blaze of his flamethrower lighting your way.

You took a different door out of the building and were relieved to see the words ‘HANGAR 3-5′ painted in bright blue Basic straight ahead. You skittered through the entrance, rounding the corner and dropping down behind the edges of the hangar doorway. Mando did the same on the other side, both of you pointing your blasters back towards Mos Eisley’s dark heart. Bootsteps behind you made you snap around, and you nearly shot your mechanically inclined host.

“You kids have fun out there?” Peli stood over where you were hunched, and you lowered your blaster to the ground. At her feet your little buddy was holding onto her pant leg, making big puppy dog eyes at you. You looked over to Mando to make sure there weren’t any more coming, but he still held his blaster out ahead. After a few tense seconds he lowered it down until it was back in its’ holster, then pulled himself to his feet.

“We can’t stay any longer, we’re putting you in danger. Time to go, kiddo.” His charred beskar still shimmered when he bent down to pick up his adopted son, who chirped with delight. “Thank you for watching him.”

“He can stay any time! Oh and thanks for all the snacks you made that droid bring me!” Peli called after the three of you as your party quickly boarded the Razor, making you turn around and stick your tongue out at her. She happily flipped you off and started closing the ground entrance to the bay, letting you board the ship uninterrupted. Fortunately, the courier droid’s delivery had made it to the ship, though you couldn't help but notice a few of your most carefully picked snacks had been taken as collateral. Fucking Peli. As much as she infuriated you, there wasn’t another person on all of Tatooine that you would rather play sabacc with.

The old rust bucket rumbled to life, taking off into the midafternoon sky and pointed towards the stars. Finally! Bye motherfucker. The hazy atmosphere of the outer rim planet fell away below you until the light of the bright yellow world illuminated the Crest’s stern. The pre-Imperial scrapheap started howling with noise, and you were almost thrown to the deck when it blasted into the safety of hyper space.

Your heart was still racing and you struggled to catch your breath. Once you had yourself in order you started busying yourself with putting the supplies away, filling the food larder to capacity. The child was contentedly telling you about his day with his auntie in his cute baby gibberish, and you picked him up off the ground to give him a much needed hug, pushing your stolen identity onto the top of your head to give him kisses. You almost wanted to ignore the sound of heavy armored boots hitting the floor panel under the ladder, their wearer opting to jump down from the cockpit rather than climb. You could feel the fury coming off of him as he stalked over to where you were sorting your treasures.

“You could have been hurt! I knew it was a bad idea to let you go wandering around, even with your face covered. What if they’d caught you? I picked three of them off before you even saw one!”

“I had it under control, Mando! I’m not some princess that needs you coming to her rescue at every sign of a struggle. And you don’t get to let me do anything, you don’t own me!” The man under your scrutiny paced the cabin on stiff legs with his hands on his hips, helmet snapping with rage.

“I know you can handle yourself, but I need to protect you.” He said with a huff, “And that lizard was... he had you pinned down, had his filthy, scaly claws on you... Nobody should touch you like that! What if.. what if he... I- I- didn’t like that he was...” Listening to the sound of the gears jamming in his head made you realize the ridiculous thing he was trying to say.

“Are you.. Mando are you jealous?”

“No! I- I’m.. Cyar’ika I... ”

Oh no, you don’t get to be cute right now. “I don’t know what that means, Mando! What is that, some kind of sexy little pet name you use on all the girls you take underneath of you?”

“NO! I didn’t- I would nev- I’ve never had... There’s never been- no!” Oh how you wished you could see his face, watching him flail trying to defend himself from your accusation, he was probably white as a sheet under all that armor.

“Never what, Mandalorian?”

“I’ve never had anyone in this ship before!” The Mandalorian’s confession lost steam halfway through as embarrassment and fear crept into his throat, threatening to choke him with his own secrets.

“Wait.. wait wait. Never? You’ve never had anyone in this ship or...” You started approaching him, analyzing his visor for hints of meaning. “Or you’ve never had anyone at all?” The Mandalorian stopped his pacing, but his shoulders looked like they were carrying the weight of the galaxy. His silence told you everything, and the last piece of his puzzle fell into place. “Mando...was I your first?”

“Y-yes.” His visor tilted up to you, hands fidgeting at his sides. His voice was faint and sheepish, a stark contrast to the thunderstorm you were arguing with a moment ago.  Your eyes were full of questions, all racing through your mind so quickly none of them made it to your mouth. The metal man answered them all for you in one singular motion, raising his fist to knock a couple times against his beskar helmet. His creed.

“So, what, you guys aren’t allowed to have sex?”

He sighed his heavy, trademarked sigh and plopped down on the nearest supply crate with a defeated thud, cradling his head in his hands. “No it’s not that. Not... not exactly. In Mando’a the word we use is me'dinuir. It means ‘to give’, specifically to give yourself to another. And... when you give yourself away to someone-“ He turned the black gloss of his single eye up to you, “-you belong to them. That is The Way.”

The weight of his words made your blood cold. He was jealous, but not just because that other hunter had put his scaly hands on you. Everything about his attitude around you suddenly made sense, the way he had looked at you when you were presenting yourself to him that first day, why he never threw you in carbonite when he probably should have, and how he had stayed with you through the night after you nearly died hunting his bounty. His mysterious way of life decreed that giving his body to you meant that he had also given you his soul, and that made you just as important to protect as his foundling.

Mando reached out to pat the fuzzy green head of the baby you were still holding, who gibbered sleepily up at his armor plated papa. “I’m sorry to put that on you, and I’m sorry for how I acted. You’re not my bounty anymore, and I shouldn’t try to control you. I understand if you don’t want to continue with me to the next bounty. You can take whatever you want from the armory when we land next. I’m.. I’m so sorry.” The monolithic man looked so tiny now, sitting on the edge of the crate with his shoulders hunched. He reached his arms out to take his infant son from you, hugging him to his blast-burnt chest and smoothing his massive ears. "I didn’t get to thank you for washing him earlier, he smells really good.”

You desperately needed to know more, though the sight of him fawning over his sleepy son made your heart swell. “I kinda got the feeling that you were rusty when we met, but that was actually your first time? And what does that mean ‘you belong to them’? How can you belong to me? I don’t even know your name.”

"It means that I’m now sworn to protect the one that carries my soul. I’m not asking you to do the same, you’re not Mandalorian.”

His words made you feel sick, ashamed that you had taken something so sacred from him without a second thought, but how could you have known? He could have stopped at any time, you were the one in cuffs that day, not him. No, out of trillions and trillions of sentient beings in the galaxy he chose to give himself to you, knowing full well what his heritage decreed. Why you? Arms crossed, you dug deeper. “You’ve never seen another naked body than your own?”

He shook his head. “Just... holo-vids...”

You were going to have to ask him about those later. “Nothing? You’ve at least kissed someone before though, right?”

“Kissed?”

Maker fucking help you. “Yeah you know, kissing? The thing you do with your... oh, right." You reached up and tapped him twice on the beskar. “You need your face to do it.”

He cocked his helmet at you. “Can you show me?”

The innocence of his question made you melt. Fuck you, tin can, you’re not supposed to be cute when you’re in trouble. You reached your hand out, demanding he give you his, and shyly he obeyed. You pulled his hand to your lips, unsure of how much he could actually feel through his thick leather gloves. You pressed his hand to your lips and watched his whole body snap straight. “Kiss, like that.”

He was staring at his hand like he’d never seen it before, and after a moment he pulled your locked fingers to his head, tapping his forehead with the back of your hand. “Kov’nynir, But we do it with our helmets.”  At this rate you’ll be speaking Mando’a in no time. He still held your hand gently, running his thumb over your fingers. “I think I like your way better. Could... Could you do that again?”

So polite, maybe having him stuck with you wouldn’t be so bad. You pulled his hand back to you, giving him another soft kiss on the side of his thumb, and you heard the sound of his breath catching in his modulator. Your lips pressed to each of his knuckles, and then you turned his wrist to kiss his palm. “How’s that?”

“That’s amazing.”

“You like that? Watch this.” Addressing the bantha in the room would have to wait. You tugged his glove off, revealing the warm bronze skin underneath and kissed him again. The hitched breaths coming out of his modulator were honey to your ears, and you turned his wrist over to kiss his bare palm again, hunting for more sweet sounds. His body was so stiff, so tightly wound you thought he might snap. “Are you ok? Do I need to stop?”

“I- I- want to... Can... Can I try?” You nodded, your heart jumping to your throat at the thought of him removing his helmet in front of you, but instead he gently reached up to the busted droid face you still wore on your head. With a twist of a knob the armatures inside of the eye casings coiled shut, and when he slid the mask down into place you were thrown into total darkness. “Can you see?” You shook your head. “Promise?”

You sighed, long and frustrated. “I promise, dark as a sarlacc’s backside.” You were met with only silence. Then, after what felt like an eternity you heard the sliding sound of metal as the child’s pram shield slid closed, then the shuffle of armor being removed, and lastly the dull thunk of something heavy being set down on the crates. His hand found yours again, and he pressed his lips against your skin. They were hotter than you were expecting, and soft, almost plush. You understood right away why he was so rigid when you were doing the same, it was amazing. Gentle kisses made their way over the back of your hand and made heat flood through your veins. He moved slowly over each joint, following the same pattern you had shown him, then turned your hand over and kissed at your fingertips. Something fuzzy brushed along with his lips, and you imagined that he might have a mustache. The shivers that crept their way up from your captured hand knocked all the strangeness of your conversation out of your mind, but when he reached your wrist he stopped.

“Where else do you kiss at?” You nearly fainted at the sound of his unfiltered voice, a rich baritone that dripped with dark intentions and stole all the words from your mouth. You could only point with your other hand at the forearm attached to the hand he held. Again you felt his lips on your wrist, then slowly, inch by agonizing inch he made his way up your arm, each kiss slower than the last until your toes were curling in their boots. When he reached the edge of the tunic’s sleeve that hung at your elbow he paused again. “Where else?”

“Everywhere.”  Your tormentor hummed at your consenting words and let go of your hand to run his palms down your clothed thighs. When he reached your knees he pulled on their joints, bidding you to bring your legs up over his lap. When you were seated on him he resumed his trek up your arm, kissing at the crease of your elbow and then upwards over your tunic until he reached your shoulder. When he got to your neck you almost buckled over, but his hands were at your back in an instant, wrapping heavily around your waist. Your own hands made their way to the nape of his neck, and your fingers found the edge of his hairline that you had felt before. To your delight you felt that the tousled curls went all the way up, and you tangled your fingers in them, exploring their softness while he explored you.

His journey led him up your neck to the base of your jaw where he nipped gently at the sensitive skin like you had done to him last night, sending a fresh wave of goosebumps from your head to your toes. When his nose bumped the edge of your mask you were suddenly aware of how silly you might look with your big bug eyes. “Can I take this thing off?” you asked in a whisper. “I won’t look.”

“I have a better Idea. Hold on tight.” You dug your hands into his shoulders and felt his arms wrap under your legs as he stood up, lifting you with such ease that you wondered if he felt your weight at all. His boots echoed through the cabin until he stopped at the other end. You hung on for dear life while he climbed the ladder with you still wrapped around his front. When you both reached the top you let yourself unwind from him and scooted on your butt over the floor, listening to the sound of him pulling himself all the way up. You remained seated as your host fussed around the flight deck, the noise of buttons pressing and switches being thrown the only input to your deprived senses.

You were only unattended for a moment, then his hands found your waist, fishing for the edge of your shirt. The tunic was pulled up and over your head, taking your mask with it, and you squeezed your eyes shut to protect his modesty; unsure of what his unconventional oath to you included in the fine print. Your diligence was rewarded with a kiss on your forehead, then down to kiss both of your closed eyes, and then lastly to your lips. The searing heat of his mouth on yours threatened to throw your eyes open, but when they fluttered all you saw was darkness. The transperisteel’s blast shielding had been closed, and the only light in the cockpit came from a handful of illuminated buttons on the dash.

He was lying over top of you on the metal floor, one arm wrapped under your neck for support. The cold decking under you was uncomfortable, but you couldn’t be bothered to care, letting yourself be consumed by his kisses and becoming drunk on the scent of leather and adrenaline. The soft fuzz of his facial hair tickled slightly as he pressed into your lips, and you couldn’t help but smile. Your hands went to his face, running your thumbs over his cheeks and feeling what you weren’t allowed to see. His face was scruffy but not unkempt, and the bristles went all the way from his jaw up to the bottom of the defined nose that bumped against your own. You felt the creases on the corners of his eyes, wishing you could see his smile lines and all the stories they would tell.

You kissed him back, letting your tongue glide over his plush lips and making him inhale sharply. You licked into him again, and this time you were met with his tongue as well, just the faintest touch of its tip. He hummed in your mouth, and the sound of him so close made your belly pool with heat and your kisses bolder, sending your tongue deeper into his mouth until he was almost vibrating with the sensation of you exploring something as forbidden as his human body. He mirrored you as best he could, rolling the smooth muscle over your lips and the edges of your teeth until you were both lost in each other’s taste. He pushed his forehead against yours, pulling his mouth away with frantic breaths that spread fire over your skin. “Everywhere?”

You pushed your lips against his again, giving him an ambitions ‘Mmhmm’ as an answer. His growl made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and you realized where his goal was. He kissed and nipped his way down your throat, letting his tongue glide over your skin. He made his way to your breast, taking its’ tender tip between his teeth and making you gasp. He sucked at it gently, rolling his tongue around it while it grew harder for his efforts. The hand not under you groped at your free breast so it wouldn’t be ignored.

"Beep!”

An urgent chime echoed in the tiny space, the hyperdrive indicator was flashing its countdown warning: 10 minutes remain.

The Mandalorian’s growl on your breast made your blood turn to ice and your core flush with heat at the same time. He wanted to devour you, taste every single inch of your exposed skin, but time was not on your side; and he became a man on a mission to prove himself worthy of you. Bristles dragged over your skin as he slid down your belly until he hit the edge of your pants. They were yanked off so fast you briefly worried about the krayt teeth that were still in their pockets, but you didn’t have long to think before Mando was poised over the apex of your thighs, kissing at each leg to make his intentions known. Those must be some good holo-vids you’re watching, tinman. You let him push your legs apart with his chin, receiving a soft kiss on each one once they were far enough apart for him to stuff his face in between.

Your back arched, hard, followed by the most ragged moan you‘d ever heard escape your throat. The grip on your thighs kept you in place as he lapped at your clit, sucking and teasing in an experimental way. His inexperience didn’t seem to matter, his hunger for you fueling his efforts and making you squirm in delight. Your hands sought desperately for something to grab onto to keep yourself grounded, finding his lovely curls to bury your fingers in deep. It was all you could do to hold on for dear life, tangling in his hair and struggling to breathe as he worked you into a frenzy.

The noises coming from below your waist were heavenly, wet and greedy in between his hums of contentment. It took you a while to realize they weren’t hums at all, but alien words of worship being prayed at your sinful altar; but the blood pounding in your ears and the gasps from your throat were too loud for you to hear his devotion.

“Beep beep!”  Five minutes remain. Fuck.

The Mandalorian’s efforts doubled, running his tongue almost too quickly in his attempt to eat you alive. You let your hips grind into his mouth, begging him to bring you your release, and it wasn’t long before he succeeded. Stars flashed behind your eyes as you came into his hot open mouth, but he refused to leave until he had drank his fill of you. Eventually he pulled his face away from your spent heat with agonizing slowness, as if he would rather drown than address the impending drop from hyperspace. He kissed at your shaky thighs, your soft belly, and each breast before pressing his lips into your panting mouth, pushing the taste of you onto your own tongue. His breath was ragged, and you could feel the sweat of his brow where it was pushed against your face. 

He lifted away from you, and the weight of the handmade mask was draped over your face, making you groan with the displeasure of your passion being cut short. However, once it was in place, it was almost immediately pushed under by strong fingers to lift its edge, and you were given one last kiss to swear his promise of return to you.

“Din. My name is Din.”

<-Previous Next->

TAG LIST  @mrsparknuts​ @cookiejuicedesu​ @mandoinevarro​ @kaermorons​

[masonscig]

bittersweet

part two

pairing | felix x flor

word count | 3.2k

warnings | smut. minors dni.

author’s note | so i wanted to write like 2 more parts to this, but honestly... i feel like this turned out great. also yes, i probably should’ve made this a lot shorter, but the prompt got away from me as per usual. not proofread because i’m tired :/ this is for day seven of hot in wayhaven, aftercare!

•─────────────────•

Things have been weird since that night.

She just kind of went back to treating him exactly the same as she had before. She held him at arms’ length like she did with everyone she was wary of letting in.

He was sure that this time he’d made progress.

For the few months leading up till he almost throat fucked her in her dimly lit apartment, she’d been warming up to him.

He managed a few genuine smiles and laughs despite trying less hard to do so. He caught her watching him across the room during meetings, trainings, briefings… anytime they weren’t alone, he caught her staring at least once.

She’d even started asking about him. Any time he was late to a meeting, she bugged Mason with a punch to the shoulder or a scuff of her shoe against the toe of his own.

Didn’t matter how much progress he’d made if it’d just been ruined by one big fuck up on both of their ends.

This particular night, Felix is mulling over the events leading up to when she left, still trying to figure out where things went wrong.

He paces around the room once, twice, before plopping into his giant bean bag chair.

Before he can really settle in there, he’s restless again, jumping to his feet to cross the room once again, climbing into the hammock in the corner.

This isn’t right, either, he huffs to himself, rolling awkwardly out of the hammock and to the middle of the room, flinging himself onto his bed.

He picks up the Gameboy on his nightstand, tap-tap-tapping away on full volume until he hears a single loud thud against the wall across from him.

Abandoning his game of Galaga, he groans in frustration, rolling his eyes at Mason’s feeble attempts to silence him. Tossing the Gameboy to the foot of his bed, he opts instead to grab his tamagotchi, feeding his pet till he’s bored again.

He has lots of things. And these things keep him occupied and hold his attention for a while.

But none of them keep his attention long enough to satiate his wandering mind.

Flor’s been his main focus for a while, but it’s particularly bad this week since she’s taken a vacation for the first time since he’s met her.

It’s not even that she’s a hard worker – she’s just on such bad terms with the captain that she never bothered asking for days off when she knew she wouldn’t get them even if she had plans to get outta town.

Her being on vacation doesn’t bother him at all – it’s the way he’s got unfinished business and he can’t do anything about it.

He can’t seem to think of anything else without her creeping into the back of his mind one way or the other.

He twists off of the bed and walks to his dresser, where his phone’s charging on its surface.

He’s confused. He misses her, he’s angry at her, he wants her –

To say he’s confused is an understatement, really.

He’s been patient, he’s been kind, he’s been understanding – and for her to ignore him for the entire summer?

He’d been counting down the days till they got back to normal. He’s in the hundreds now, and there’s no end in sight.

There’s two endings if he decides to fix it tonight – he’s either getting treated better, or he moves on from her.

The latter option is a painful thought, one he doesn’t give himself time to digest before he taps the number at the top of his favorites.

The phone rings once, twice, and his finger hovers over the end call button. He’s so close to chickening out – this is an awful idea –

“What? Huh?” Flor asks, voice raspy and twinged with sleep. She yawns around her greeting, and he can picture her running a hand through her thick dyed hair. “Who is this?”

Does she really not even have his number saved?

“Uh, it’s Felix. I, um, this is a check in call,” he lies, tensing immediately.

Why’s that his knee jerk reaction? Two seconds into the call and he’s already making excuses instead of standing up for himself.

He really can’t help it, though. She’s so intimidating.

“It’s four thirty in the fucking morning,” she groans. “If you and your little team aren’t gonna respect my sleeping schedule consider any calls from this point on fucking rejected.”

“No, no, I, uh –”

He has no excuses. He can’t lie again… and she already sounds upset, and it’d make the rest of the call even more unpleasant.

“I lied. It’s not a check up,” he sits up in bed, nervously fiddling with the tamagotchi.

“Well then what is it?” She spits, clearly cranky and sleep deprived.

“I have some things I need to say to you, and… I, uh, I don’t know if you’ll like it,” he twists the keychain around his finger, but tosses his little friend to the end of his bed alongside his Gameboy. He needs to focus.

She’s silent. He knows he’s on limited time. 

“I… miss you.”

She goes silent, the static of the phone crackling because of both of their poor signals.

“Thanks.”

The one word response has him silently screaming at himself – he flings himself back on the bed, kicking his legs and flailing.

I miss you. Thanks.

The most embarrassing response he could’ve ever gotten.

“I was gonna say more than that. I’m just… gathering the courage,” he says, takes a deep breath, anchors himself.

“I don’t like how you’ve been treating me, Flor, honestly, and I think you owe me an apology.”

“Oh, I do,” she responds, a deadpan question, nearly mocking.

“Yeah, you do,” Felix bites back immediately, surprised even at himself with how forceful he’s being. “You almost fucked me at the beginning of summer, and now you’re not talking to me? I thought we were, I don’t know, friends at least? I know I’m not your Tina and I never will be, but I want to be there for you.”

“I’m not…” she trails off, and there’s a swishing sound like she’s shifting in bed. “Trying to avoid you, alright? It just seems like that, I guess.”

He can’t stop his hand from clenching into a tight fist, can’t stop it from shaking with rage, can’t stop the venom bubbling up his throat and dripping off his tongue.

“Don’t… tell me how to feel, Flor. I’m upset, so don’t try to downplay it, okay? I know you’re trying to avoid me, and that’s fine, I guess, as long as you, I dunno, let me move on.”

“Move on?” She asks, her tone (surprisingly) cushioned with sincerity.

“Yeah, I, uh,” he stands, striding across the room to the window, and back to the door, pacing (He’s wondering if she’s pacing too). “I like you a lot, but I have to protect myself, too, y’know? If you don’t want me around, you’ve gotta tell me so that I can stop, uh, investing too much of myself into… this.”

“Felix…” she sighs, and quiets. “I know you’re looking for answers, but I don’t have them. I don’t know.”

“So, what, that’s it then?”

“I… yeah. Yeah. That’s it.”

Flor sounds unsure, but he’s not gonna press her further. It hurts, but he has to move on or she’ll consume him in a fiery blaze.

He’s let the flames lick at him, but when it comes down to it, he can’t handle the inferno. He’s walking away before he gets burned, when all he wants to do is be engulfed by her.

It’s easier this way, in theory, but saying goodbye is harder than he’s ever anticipated.

“Bye, Flor. Sweet dreams.”

He disconnects before she can say another word, and he crumples onto his bed, pulling his knees to his chest.

He’s losing another person he cares about, and just like last time, he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Tears are falling freely now, and he angrily wipes them away with a rough backhand.

It’s not her fault. It’s not your fault. You’re just not compatible.

That’s what he tells himself, at least, as he’s drifting off to sleep. He’ll deal with Rebecca and Unit Bravo in the morning.

––––

Flor clutches the phone in her hand, her jaw tight.

She didn’t get the last word, and she sure as hell didn’t get to say what she wanted to say.

Felix was hurting and she couldn’t even manage kindness for one goddamn moment.

No one asks to be emotionally detached – it's just easier that way, for Flor, at least.

Wading through the mess of her apartment, she steps into the bare kitchen. Pours herself a cup of water. Chugs it to clear her head.

When that doesn’t do the trick, she takes a hefty shot of tequila. Bad idea, but the burn gives her a sense of clarity she doesn’t have when she’s completely sober.

You’ve been dragging your fucking feet for years now. Get the hell over it. Go to him. Be with him.

Every instinct she has is dragging her towards the front door where her car keys hang. Another bad idea, as per usual.

Before she can talk herself out of it, she shoots him a quick text. Come over. Please. We need to talk in person.

It’s not the wisest idea for her to face her problems head on, but the tiny, reasonable part of Flor’s mind is telling her she needs to fight for him instead of letting him slip through her fingers.

––––

He doesn’t see the text till an hour and a half after she’s sent it.

It’s just past six in the morning. The sun’s just barely creeping its way into his room, golden streaks across his wood floor.

He assumes she just wants the last word and that’s why she sent it – but an even louder part of him entertains the “what ifs” that are bouncing around his mind.

What if she wants to apologize? What if she wants to hear how I feel? And tell me where her head’s at? 

After going back and forth for a few minutes, impulse wins, and he’s tossing on a vibrant graphic tee and shorts before he sprints out the door. 

Nate’s the only one up, reading the newspaper and filling out the crossword puzzles in the soft lighting of the kitchen, and he shoots Felix a knowing look of encouragement.

Unit Bravo knows how infatuated Felix is with Flor, and they constantly flit between telling him to let her go and chasing after her.

Today’s a good day in that regard – Nate’s given his wordless blessing with nothing but a soft smile.

He’s at her place in ten minutes flat, staring up at the apartment like it’s a creaky, spooky haunted house.

His courage is thinning the closer he steps to her front door. His bones are gelatin, and his brain is equally as mushy.

It’s not an ideal state, but he doesn’t know when he’ll get another chance like this. Get the courage again like this.

Rapping his knuckles against the stained door, he waits. He rocks back on his heels, taps his feet, does anything he can to get the jitters out of his system.

When the door finally does open, his heart leaps at the sight of her.

Her hair’s a mess. Her leftover eyeliner is smudged all around her eyes. Her dark eyes are lined with red from lack of sleep. She looks exhausted.

“You came.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, and steps into her apartment when she gestures for him to come in.

She shuts the door behind him, and this time instead of shoving him up against the door to kiss him, she takes his hand.

Laces her fingers through his own, tugs him toward her couch.

He doesn’t know how to start this conversation, and from the looks of it, neither does she.

“What’s up?” He asks, simply, feeling like an idiot almost instantly for making things that casual.

“I’m…” she trails off, nearly black irises softening when she looks at him. He could live in those midnight pools.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.”

He raises both brows in surprise, and his gaze flits to their hands. She’s death gripping one of his hands with both of hers, her jaw set.

“Uh –”

“I’m getting to the why. I just don’t know how to say it –”

She grunts, shifting on the couch. “I’m not a nice person. You know that.”

“You’re nice in your own way,” he offers, rubbing a thumb over her knuckles.

“God, Felix, I’m a mean bitter bitch. Don’t sugar coat it,” she laughs. “I don’t really wanna be this way, but it’s easier than getting… invested in people.”

“Whaddaya mean?”

“It’s just easier to shut people out than to have expectations for them,” she starts, shrugging. “And having them expect things from you, too.”

“So, what you’re saying is, you don’t want us to have expectations for each other?” He asks.

“I’m gonna say this as bluntly and straight forward as I can, because I don’t think I can do anything else,” she answers after taking a deep, shaky breath.

“I like you. I’m attracted to you. I want you in my life,” she holds his eyes, speaking as earnestly as she can manage. “But I need you to be patient with me. I don’t know how to do… this. I don’t know how to get close to people anymore. Last time I did it was fucking toxic and I told myself never again.”

“Bobby,” he murmurs, and she nods.

“If you want me, too, we’ll both have to compromise,” she continues, stiffening a little like she’s bracing for impact. “I have to get used to the way you do things, and you’ll have to get used to the way I am, too. But I promise you, Felix, I’m gonna try.”

“Try what?” His voice is a little shaky, and she’s coming towards him, slowly closing the gap between them.

“I’m gonna try to love you, if you’ll try to love me,” she whispers, her jaw set again.

That’s all he needed to hear.

He closes his eyes and kisses her sweetly, softly, letting go of her hands so he can cup her face.

She’s so precious to him, so he cradles her face like the gem she is.

“Flor…” Her name’s a quiet promise as it falls from his lips.

I promise as long as you’re trying, I’ll try, too.

She clutches his hips as she kisses him, moaning sweetly into his mouth.

He doesn’t know when she starts slowly tugging his clothes off, but soon enough, they’re skin to skin, and he can’t tell where his body ends and hers begins.

She’s different this time, he notices. She’s more timid. Maybe she’s never been taken care of like this before.

As he bows his head between her legs, he can’t help but wonder if he’ll be her favorite or not.

She’s slack jawed and grasping at his head, squeezing her tattooed thighs around his face.

God, she’s beautiful, all spread out for him – she’s a gift of brown skin (and a pretty pink pussy).

She writhes and pants with each stroke of his tongue, his name broken and garbled on her lips.

When she tugs his head upwards to press sloppy kisses on his mouth, he knows she wants more.

“Flor…” he trails off, feeling sweat bead on the back of his neck. “Do you really wanna do this?”

“Only if you want to, doll.”

God, he can barely breathe. A proposition and a pet name. To most, that’s nothing. But to him, it’s the entire world.

She anchors herself on top of him and settles onto his cock, keeping direct eye contact while she stretches around him.

His eyes are fluttering shut, rolling back, and his head is threatening to loll to the side – she grabs his cheeks between her hand and tugs him back up, her half lidded eyes lustful and determined.

“I want to see you… watch me, and I’ll watch you,” she pants as she flexes her hips, his tip the only part inside of her, but she flexes again, taking all of him (every delicious inch).

“Fuck,” he curses, and she grins, bouncing against him.

He fists his hands at her hips, running a hand up her stomach to rest at the barbed wire tattoos lining her under boob. He can’t figure out what part of her he wants to touch so he opts for it all, squeezing, nipping, kissing every piece of skin his hands and mouth can cover.

“You feel so fucking good around me, doll – fuck me just like that,” she grunts as he bucks up into her.

He’s never been one to have a filthy mouth, but boy does he fucking love it.

The sun’s fully engulfing her living room at this point, the golden glow warming both of their exposed skin already, glistening in the Wayhaven sunrise.

She’s so pretty like this. She’s in her element like this, too. Confident.

The nervous, rigid version of herself was long gone.

She’s opening up to him. Albeit emotionally and physically, she’s trying. She’s blooming for him.

Flor means flower right? She’s finally in season, and it’s worth the wait.

––––

In the heat of it all, they’ve kicked all her clean laundry to the floor, but she grabbed a thin blanket from the top to cover them.

She’s cuddled up to him on the small couch, her head resting on his sweat slicked chest.

They’d been at it for a while when they both finally came. He didn’t expect her to want to cuddle, but they did.

“We probably need to clean up, huh?” she murmurs, soft kisses against his skin.

“Lemme take care of it,” he grins, crawling over her before she can protest.

He’s back in a flash with a damp towel and a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” she smiles, taking the bottle from him. When she tries to grab the damp towel, he holds it away from her.

“Can I clean you up?” He asks timidly.

Flor shrugs, mouth still on the bottle. “Okay.”

He bends to his knees and pulls the blanket away, dragging the cloth gently along her thighs, cleaning up the mess he’s made.

He folds the towel and rubs her stomach and thighs again, before kissing her knee. “You’re so pretty.”

Before he can stand up, she grabs his arm and tugs him back down for a long kiss.

When she pulls back, her eyes are shiny, soft. Midnight pools, and he’s submerged in them.

“I’ve never been fucked by someone who cares about me like you do.”

He grins and pulls her in for a kiss again.

“Well, get used to the feeling.”

He wants every messy, unpolished part of Flor he can get, from her crass humor to her sailor’s mouth.

This is the farthest they’ve ever taken things, yeah, but he’s willing to go further and further with her, as long as she’ll have him.

[paroxysmal-distaste]

acatalepsy. || prologue

copied and pasted from my wattpad, excuse the old writing.

playlist.  0.  1.  2.  3.  4.  5.  6.  7.  8.  9.  10.  11.  12. ----- ◈ Chapter 0 - Prologue ◈ ◈ Date Published: 24/12/2018 ◈ ◈ Word Count: 2147 ◈ -----

UNKNOWN DAY IN AN UNFAMILIAR UNIVERSE

"What the hell are we doing in here?"

"Lighten up! You barely leave the house anyways."

"Yeah yeah yeah, you don't need to remind me. Did you bring the flashlight I asked you to bring?"

"I thought you were taking it."

You face palmed.

Recently, there's been a train accident where it's said to be believed that the tunnel was haunted. Everyone thought this was true because apparently there would be less people onboard after going through the tunnel than before. Almost like they were taken by something.

You thought it was bullshit.

The area had already been blocked off, but that doesn't stop your adventure loving friend from dragging you into her curiosities. In a way, you had always admired that about her, but other times you saw it as a flaw. One of those times being now.

"Mags?"

"Hm?"

"Can I go now?"

"No."

You rolled your eyes and frowned, speeding up your pace to keep up with her, "Wait up, will you?"

"Does your phone have any battery?" She questioned, ignoring your comment.

"Just a bit, I don't know if it will be enough though, especially since the flashlight takes up a lot of it."

"Turn it on for a moment, I can't see where I'm going." The both of you lifted up the Caution, Keep Out! police tape as you carefully stepped over the rumble. The atmosphere surrounding the place was giving you the chills, and you shivered quietly.

"Can we speed this up a little? I'm getting the creeps." You stated blandly, subconsciously tightening your grip around your backpack straps. You kicked a squashed can of Sprite to the left of you.

"Give me a hand with this." Mags gestured for you to help her with what seemed to be a large part of debris from the crash.

"Alright, but if it accidentally drops on your foot or something and it breaks, don't blame me." You raised your hands up comically and pursed your lips, before dropping them loosely to your sides. You grunted as your fragile hands attempted to pull off a large chunk of concrete from the side of the tunnel.

"You know, you're acting kind of weird. What's the rush? You don't have somewhere to be, right?" She asked abruptly.

You froze,"N-no, what makes you say that?" Your body stiffened as your friend squinted her eyes at you suspiciously.

"You seem to be in a really big hurry for some reason and you don't usually care when I pull you around on these trips."

You lifted your arms and shoulders, turning your head to the side, "I-I don't know, I think I'm just tired I guess."

"You're a terrible liar! You're meeting up with someone aren't you?" She placed her hands on her hips and neared you, making you back away nervously.

"Pffft- whaaaaaat? No way." You tugged at your turtleneck, "It's getting a little hot in here. Mind if I just-" Just as you were going to push past her, she said something that made you pause.

"It's Miles, isn't it?" The constant shifting of your eyes made her own widen and her lips to curve into a smile. "I knew it! You can't hide anything from me!"

"Shush! I was going to tell you, but I didn't know if I would call it anything yet." You fiddled with your hands in an antsy way, before pushing a strand of loose hair behind your ear.

"Ooo, you have to tell me what happened!"

"He just asked me out, that's all!"

"That's all! What do you mean- that's great!"

Your face reddened as she hugged you, "Stop... you're making it seem bigger than it is."

Mags nudged you suggestively, before walking forward. "I'll drop it. For now."

After a moment or two, a giant hole in the wall was finally revealed, and your friend carefully put a foot in the gap, trying to squeeze their way in.

"I can't get in! I think I'm stuck." She murmured, her voice echoing since half her body was left through the wall and her legs were kicking up and down in panic.

You snickered at her flailing limbs, and you could hear her getting cross at your lack of helpful action.

Something made a clicking sound, and you shielded your eyes from the sudden bright light in your face. It flickered for a moment, and a loud horn sound blew.

"M-Mags." You tugged at the bottom of her jacket, your eyes widening as you noticed that the light was from an incoming train.

"Huh?" She questioned, "I can't see! What's going on?"

Your face paled as you began to roughly tug at her legs, accidentally slipping one of her shoes off. "Dammit! A train's coming!"

"I thought there weren't supposed to be any trains seen this place had been closed off!"

"Yeah, well, it's not going to be stopping anytime soon - let me help you, stop kicking!"

Just as Mags was easing herself out of the hole, something made you pause momentarily.

Something tickled your arm, and instantly, you began to mentally freak out. Whatever it was, if you made any sudden movements, you were sure it was going to harm you.

"Ow! Something bit me!"

Never mind.

A burning sensation began to occur on your palm, and it felt as if your skin was falling off. You tried your best to not yell out in pain, since you and Mags were trying your best to get out of the place alive.

"I'm out! Quick! Hurry up, it's coming!"

You snapped your head to look behind you, seeing the lights coming closer. Turning your attention back to what was in front of you, a few metres forward was Mags with her hand extended, waiting for you to grab it.

The train seemed to get closer every second, and you bolted forward, almost tripping over the tracks.

You finally managed to clasp your hand around your friend's, and she hoisted you up immediately.

It was right on time too, because the train violently broke through the large concrete rumble, and continued going ahead at full speed.

The rubble of rocks flew everywhere, causing both you and Mags to fall backwards and to scoot backwards with your hands.

"Oh my goodness." You ran a shaky hand through your hair, which was now messed up. By doing so, a striking pain ran through your arm again, and it brought attention to what happened earlier.

You breathed in through your teeth, as Mags grabbed your hand gently in worry.

"I think it was a spider, but it must have been a pretty nasty one because it hur- gah! Careful!" You snatched your hand away from her grasp, making her stumble out a 'sorry'.

"Let's just get out of here." You frowned at her before walking out of the subway, her footsteps following quick behind.

You stared at your hand curiously, wondering what sort of bug would produce a large wound and sensation like that.

A radioactive spider definitely didn't cross your mind.

---

You ended up cancelling on Miles, and it made you feel terrible since you were really looking forward to your 'hangout'. He had invited you to go rollerblading with him, since he knew you loved it.

What you told him was that you weren't feeling very well, but you promised you would make it up to him.

That bite from a week before, was no ordinary bite. Your daily life was increasingly difficult, from accidentally ripping papers the second you tried to remove it from your own fingers, to climbing walls.

You did put two and two together, and realise that it must have been during that train episode because that's where you first started feeling weird.

Going out for a walk, you hummed the song that was playing through your headphones and looked around at the lights and streets of Brooklyn.

The moment was short lived though, since what happened next was only made aware to you when you heard an extremely high pitched scream. It must have been pretty loud since your headphones are always full volume, which signalled that something was seriously wrong.

You pulled your hoodie down, and carefully removed your headphones to find out what was happening.

Another villain.

And Kid Arachnid - as everyone called him - was saving the city once again. You had never seen him in action up close, and it only took you a few moments to notice that his abilities were the same ones that you had.

Your fingers began to tingle, and you looked down at them, slightly startled at the realisation. Were you just like him? You didn't know, and a small part of you wished you were. It would be interesting becoming a hero and fighting alongside Kid Arachnid.

A loud yell pierced your thoughts again, and you jumped at the sudden sound.

A car was thrown your way, but a string of webs managed to prevent it from going any further.

You looked up to see your saviour, who was now struggling to fight against the person opposing him.

A strong urge to help was almost forcing you to get up and assist him, but your fears held you back.

The villain seemed to have said something to him that alarmed him, because he ended up grabbing you and holding you up.

"Y/N!"

Wait, Y/N? How does he- His voice. I know that voice. Of course I do, I could recognise it a mile away. A mile...

Miles.

Everything that happened next was a blur, and you still couldn't process it. Before you knew it, you were free from the malefactor but in exchange for the well-being of someone else.

"Miles." You whispered, before running over to where he was laying. Almost instantly, you moved him off of the wreckage to make him feel a little more comfortable instead of having sharp rocks digging into his back.

"Miles- are you o-okay?" You managed to cry out. "You didn't have to do that!" You kneeled down to his level, unsure how to treat him.

"I did anyways though, didn't I?" He grinned and stated in a raspy voice. Of course that was his response.

"I-I should have gone to our meetup- maybe then I wouldn't have disappointed you, and left things like this. I-I-It's all my f-fault and-"

"Y/N. It's not your fault. This was bound to happen eventually." He was cut off when he gave out a weak cough.

Your hands shook vigorously as you placed them over Miles' cheek, using one to pull off his mask.

He smiled delicately when he saw you a little clearer, and he pushed the strand of hair that was sticking out behind your ear. "You always did have those little bits of hair pointing out all the time."

Your laugh made the tears that were brimming your eyes fall down on his chin.

Miles' eyes trailed to his stomach, where a large and deep, bleeding cut was held. There was no way he was recovering from that.

Suddenly, he squinted, and a pressure built into your head. It felt like a headache, but it actually felt nice. His eyes widened at you, and he smiled.

"Y-you're like me."

"W-what?"

He didn't reply, and his eyes were beginning to close.

"Miles. Miles! Answer me!" You tried your best to try to shake him awake without damaging him, but he wouldn't wake up. "M-Miles...?"

You stood up carefully.

This happened way too fast. First you get bitten by a radioactive spider, next your crush, best friend and also the city's super hero dies in your arms.

You couldn't even cry anymore, because you were still processing what had just happened. The villain was still on the loose.

Of course, at this point, you were fully aware that what ever caused Miles to be as skilled as he was, also got you.

It was a spider.

You dug your fingers into your fist until your knuckles turned white.

If there isn't going to be anymore Kid Arachnid, then there needed to be someone else to be there for him. Not to take his place, but rather, in his memory.

An idea started to form into your mind.

Chapter 1 >

[achillestiel]

the parent trap only works if you’re identical | part two

based on this post by @destiel-is-canon-i-guess which now lives rent free in my brain | Part One 

Dean looked out across the sea of faces for the familiar sight of Claire. After four weeks he had to admit that he’d missed her like crazy. All he wanted to do was get back home and hear all about her summer over some burgers. 

“Hey Dad!” A kid around Claire’s age called out as he raced over to Dean. Dean looked over his shoulder, guessing that there was another parent near him. No. Just Dean. He looked back as the kid stopped at his feet. 

“Think you got me confused for someone else kid. I’m looking for Claire Winchester, you seen her?”

“Dad, it’s obviously me. Claire.” The kid said with a grin. Dean loved kids, especially his own, but sometimes they were freaking annoying. 

"Kid, I've been driving since yesterday morning and I'm pretty beat. Can you grab Claire for me?"

"That might be difficult...she's not here." The kid said as he chewed on his bottom lip. Dean just closed his eyes and let out a long sigh because of course, this wasn't going to be easy when his damn kid was involved.

"That girl, I swear. Send to camp for the summer Dean, she won't get into trouble in Maine Dean. Last time I listen to Sam. Ok kid, where's Claire? Is this gonna be a job for her dad, the sheriff or the FBI?" Dean asked and for what felt like the millionth time he wished that parenting, especially parenting Claire, was easy. 

"That depends...she’s on a train...to meet her dad so I could meet mine..." The kid said, once again worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. For a second Dean was transported to fifteen years before, watching another person bite on his bottom lip as he did the Sunday crossword.  

"She what?" Dean asked and that was finally when Dean looked at the kid. Really looked at him. “Wait...Jack? Jack, is that you?” Dean asked looking down at the kid. The kid’s face broke out into a nervous looking smile. “Oh, holy shit.” Dean gasped out because of all the people he was expecting to see today, Jack was not one of them.

“Hi Dad.” Jack said as Dean pulled him into a fierce hug. “Ok, this is nice.” Jack said into Dean's chest as he hugged Dean back tightly. 

“Damn kid you grew up." Dean said with a laugh. The last time he'd seen Jack, the kid had only been six months old. Now here he was in the flesh looking every inch the miniature Cas clone. "How...what...ok, start from the very beginning. How did any of this happen?" 

"Well, Claire started it."

"She normally does." Dean said with a roll of his eyes. “Ok kid, get the car. I got a call to make.” he added with a sigh. This was going to be...interesting to say the least.

Cas Novak bobbed on the spot as he looked out for Jack. The train station was packed with people and none of them so far has been Jack. Cas looked over the train schedule to make sure that Jack’s train had definitely come in. He looked around once again and nearly jumped a mile when a blonde teenage girl strolled right up to him, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Sup, it’s your boy Jack” the blonde girl said, grinning at Cas like he hung the moon. Cas stared back at her in confusion as his phone began to ring. He pulled it out of his pocket and just stared at the name on the screen. Why on earth was Dean of all people calling him? 

“Hello? Dean, is that you?” Cas asked. The blonde girl groaned and hid her face in her hand. “This is odd, why exactly are you calling me?”

“Hey there Cas. Long time. So listen, our kids are freaking morons.” Dean said over the phone. Cas tried to ignore how much his stomach flipped at the sound of Dean's voice. He was staggered to find that after all these years Dean still had an effect on him. "Um yeah kiddo, you're a moron. Did you two geniuses think this was actually gonna work?" Dean said to someone. 

“Our kids? Dean, is Jack with you?” Cas asked looking back at the blonde girl.  

“Yep, the kid is sat in the car right next to me.” Dean said. “And he won’t stop bugging me to change the channel. At least Claire had some respect for Led Zeppelin.” 

“Wait, so that would make the blonde girl standing next to me...”

“Goddamn, that kid is going to be the death of me. Put Claire on the phone.”

“This is Claire?” Cas asked as he stared at the blonde girl. "You're Claire?" He asked the girl. She nodded her head, suddenly looking nervous and Cas’ heart just gave out completely. He’d last seen his daughter when she was barely six months old and now here she was. All grown up in beat up boots and a flannel shirt that looked like it was really Dean’s. "Oh my god." Cas said, pulling Claire in for a tight hug. 

"Not that this isn’t nice but...dude, you're kinda crushing me." Claire said. 

"I'm sorry." Cas said as he pulled away and just stared. Long gone was the tiny blonde baby, and now here was a teenage girl who seemed to be oozing in Winchester confidence. From the way she stood to the amused look on her face, Cas could see every ounce of Dean Winchester influence. 

"Hey Cas, once you're done with the hugging, put Tweedledum on the phone." Dean said loudly over the phone. Cas sighed and switched his phone over to loudspeaker. 

"Claire is here Dean, she can hear you." 

“Hey, Lindsey Lohan. You know The Parent Trap only works if you’re identical twins...and maybe of the same gender?” Dean said over the loudspeaker. 

"Yeah and the parents in that film sucked so why did you two do the exact same thing huh?" Claire shot back and God, did she remind Cas of Gabriel at that moment. “You call me and Jack morons but-”

"Claire Mary Winchester don’t think about finishing that sentence. You get your annoying butt back home to Kansas before I ground you-"

"Hey dad, am I on speaker?" Claire said, interrupting what Cas knew was going to be one of Dean’s long speeches. 

"You're not on speaker...no, Jack I'm not putting your sister...kid, don’t give me the eyes...stop it, you look way too much like your dad when you do that...ok fine...yes, you're on speakerphone."

"Hi Jack! I don't think our plan worked." Claire said with a shrug. 

"Yeah, me neither. Hi dad!" Jack called out to Cas. Cas let out yet another long sigh and shook his head. 

"Hello Jack. You're grounded." 

"Dang it." Jack said. 

"Claire enough messing around, where are you?" Dean said, sounding more and more exasperated. 

"At a train station with my dad." Claire shot back, still grinning. "And I'm not coming back. You're just gonna have to come and get me."

"Goddamn kid, I swear she gets this stubbornness from you Cas.” Dean said. What surprised Cas the most was that despite how exasperated Dean sounded there was still some affection in his tone “Whereabouts are you guys? I'll bring Tweedledee back to you and drag Tweedledum back to Kansas with me."

"We're in Washington DC, I'll send my you address and we can sort this all out." Cas said.  

"Great. Jack, do up your seat belt and stop trying to change the station. Claire...just don't do anything stupid."

"Scouts honour Dad. Bye!" Claire said, leaning over to end the call. Once she’d hung up she turned to Cas with a giant grin on her face. "So...what now dad?”

Tag List (If you wanna be tagged in parts just lemme know):

@littlerachelbee @imthedoctorlove

[fangirl-creates]

2 Weeks - An MvA One Shot

(Wrote this back in October but I figured I’d post it since I don’t have any problems with it—Likes and Reblogs are appreciated!!)

She thought the whole thing had been just a bad dream, but when she woke up back in that cold dark cell, she realized it was still reality. She couldn’t understand how all of this had happened so fast—one minute she was about to get married to the love of her life, the next minute she was growing 50 feet tall, tranquilized, and sent to a Government Facility without her consent. But that wasn’t the worst part...there were monsters here. And she was considered one of them. There was no way she would be put in the same category as those...things. She wouldn’t stand for it.

About 2 more hours past and the front wall of her cell opened up, making her eyes squint to the bright fluorescent lights. A booming voice came from outside—“Rise and Shine, little lady! Time for you to go socialize with your prison mates!”

Susan recognized that voice all too well; The General. She stood up and finally saw him more clearly, a pleading look in her eyes. “Do I have to..?”

Monger let out a sigh. “If you’re gonna stay here, you should at least get to know your fellow monsters. Might be good for you all...”

“But I’m not a M—”

Monger put a hand up. “I don’t want to hear it. Now let’s get a move on..”

****

Susan was brought back into that same room, the one with the ‘open space’ and bright lights on the ceiling. The Monsters weren’t there, thankfully, so she had some time to relax. But when they eventually did show up, she wouldn’t have that feeling anymore. She slowly walked over to her table—the one that had been modified so it was the same size as her. She sat at the chair, closing her eyes as she took a moment to breathe.

The sound of a metal door opening made her flinch, but she kept her eyes closed regardless. She heard footsteps on the ground—their footsteps. She heard their voices, which ironically was the only thing ‘human’ about them.

“Ah there she is,” The Cockroach was heard, his British voice was still polite as ever, but that didn’t mean she didn’t mind his gross cockroach head and bulging bug eyes.

“Is she trying to mediate or something?” The fish man was next. He was the one she didn’t like that much. His tone wasn’t very...nice.

“Maybe she’s sleeping!” Next was the blob. He didn’t seem to know what was going on. Or maybe he did? She didn’t want to ask.

“Well, we should give her some space. This is her second day after all.” The Cockroach told them.

Susan quietly sighed with relief. She wanted them to stay away from her...or her fear would kick in again.

She heard them move to the table that was a few feet away from her rather large one. They were playing cards, their voices slowly faded into muffled whispers as she zoned out.

After a while, Susan fell asleep, one of her arms supporting her head while the other dangled from the table. B.O.B watched with curiosity as he slowly made his way up one of the table legs.

“I wouldn’t do that, buddy.” Link whispered.

“I just wanna say hello!” B.O.B replied as he got up to the top. He and Susan were only a few feet apart now. He slowly made his way to her face and gently tapped her cheek. “Helloooo?”

Susan stirred, fatigue quickly kicking in as she slowly opened her eyes. When she saw who was in front of her, she jolted awake, her entire body flinching as the chair moved a bit. She quickly made sure there wasn’t eye contact between the two. But this made B.O.B a little upset.

“It’s ok!” He smiled. “I don’t bite.”

“You could at least look at him, jeez…” Link scoffed. Susan’s behavior towards them all was expected, but that didn’t make him any less offended by it.

Susan took a deep breath and slowly turned her head to face B.O.B. She realized he was like a pile of silly puddy compared to her. So if she wasn’t this size, it would have been a lot more terrifying. But she realized quickly that she was a bit more intimidating in this state. She looked down at him, not bothering to force a smile just yet. “Hi…”

This made B.O.B smile, his face beaming. “So you said your name was Susan, right? No Monster name yet?”

“That’s right.” Maybe the General hadn’t told them about her ‘Mandatory name change’ yet. Perhaps that was a good thing.

“Huh. What’s your story, Susan?” He asked.

“My...Story?”

“Like how did you become a Monster?”

“O-Oh...right.” What else did she have left to lose? They’d probably be the only ones who would understand anyway. “Well, I was at my wedding. And I went out to get some air, then my fiancé came out to see me~”

“Gross.” Link rolled his eyes, earning an elbow nudge from Dr. Cockroach.

Susan ignored him. “And then I was alone for a bit...then...a meteor came down and...crashed onto me.”

Dr. Cockroach suddenly sat up, looking up at her. “Did you say a meteor? As in...from space?” He sounded surprised.

“Yeah…I guess something inside it did this to me…”

“Fascinating.” He took out a little notepad and wrote that down. “It’s a miracle that you even survived such a thing!”

“Pfff—big deal. I bet if a meteor hit me, I’d survive too.” Link put his feet on the table, leaning back.

Dr. Cockroach raised a brow. “I don’t think you understand the pain a gigantic space rock hurtling towards Earth would cause you, my friend.”

“Well she survived!” He gestured towards Susan. “I bet I would.”

“Mhmm..”

“Hey, Doc don’t underestimate me!”

“I never said I did.”

Susan just stared at them. They clearly had some history together, not that she bothered to ask.

A giant roar suddenly made Susan stand up in fear, her giant seat falling down.

“Not this again…” Link scoffed, yelling up to her. “It’s just Insecto! He’s not gonna hurt you, lady!”

Susan wasn’t convinced. Insectosaurus was the only one that was bigger than her—and she was 50 feet tall now! But when she noticed how annoyed Link was by her action, she managed to relax just a little. They had feelings, they weren’t human, but they had feelings.

Link leaped from his chair and made his way to the giant bug, soothing him with a voice a parent would use for a child. This seemed to calm the bug down, and Susan as well.

****

Normally Susan was asleep in her nice soft bed, but not today—not anymore. The Bed that would flip out of the wall was not very comfortable. Susan hugged her arms, sniffling as her cheeks were stained with tears. She didn’t know how many times she was going to cry herself to sleep, but no one she knew was with her. Her parents and Derek probably thought she was dead...or going to die. And even though that wasn’t the case, she was still miserable without them.

Dr. Cockroach could hear her sobs, his sympathetic side kicked in, and he pressed a little key pad, calling Monger to his cell.

Monger eventually made his way there. “Yes, Dr.?”

“Sir, would it be alright if I checked on Susan? She doesn’t seem so good.”

“That’s what I’m for.”

“Please..? I know what it’s like for her…”

Monger pondered at that for a second. “No tricks? No escape plans you need her for?”

“Honest.”

Monger gave him a stare for a second, then a nod as he led him to Susan’s cell, closing the door behind them.

Susan wiped her eyes, not turning around, her back to whoever was there.

“Are you alright, my dear?” He asked gently.

Susan didn’t respond, hugging her legs close to her.

Doc scurried up the wall and onto the bed, settling on the pillow. Her face—or rather, the top of her head was right across from him. He sat criss-crossed on the pillow, his hands together in his lap. He took a deep breath before speaking, his antennas going down. “Listen, I understand how hard all of this is for you. You’re completely cut off from the outside world, you have to stay in this prison and you’re unable to go out and see the ones you love.”

Muffled sobs were heard in response to that.

“B-But!! If you learn to appreciate what you do have—A Bed, Food, Shelter, Frie—” He cut himself off. “You’ll come to understand that...this place isn’t so terrible.”

Susan sniffled, turning to face him as she laid on her stomach. Her big watery eyes were fixated on the Doctor. It was at this moment she didn’t feel disgusted by his presence.

“Oh, my dear...look at you.” He frowned. “Here here, dry those tears.” He took off his lab coat, handing it to her. “It’s clean, I promise.” He reassured her.

She sniffed, taking the coat which was very tiny between her fingers. “T-Thanks…” She smiled, wiping her eyes with it. “Oh...I got it all wet..” She frowned, putting it down next to him. “Sorry…”

“Not to worry! I might as well go casual today.” He gestured to his dark grey turtleneck, making Susan chuckle lightly.

“Hey…” She frowned a bit. “I’m sorry if I’ve been...a little rude to you all. Behind all the looks, you’re all just people to and not just—”

“Monsters?”

Susan bit her lip. “I know I know...I feel like a horrible person…”

“It’s alright, my dear.” He placed a hand on her finger. “It makes complete sense knowing where you came from. Just make sure you tell Link how you feel. He might have been a tad offended by your words.” He cringed.

“Yeahhhh...I’ll do what I can.”

He smiled. “Well, I should let you get your rest now.” He began to leave.

“Wait! You’re a...scientist, right??”

“Yes…?”

“Do you think...you could help me? Maybe you could find a way to shrink me back to normal!”

“Oh dear...that is a tall order…”

“Oh…” Susan frowned.

“But that doesn't mean I won’t TRY!!” A maniacal laugh followed that statement. “I’d love to help you out! If Monger doesn’t try to put an end to our plan.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. And, Doc..?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks...for the talk…” She smiled at him.

“Anytime, Susan.” He nodded, leaving.

Susan laid back on the bed, now on her back. Sure, she wanted her old life more than anything. But if it didn’t work out, maybe she could learn to like this place.

[thr-333]

Mismatch- Part 20

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

The Batman hiding behind a corndog stall from a teenage girl: are you sure this is necessary? Twins: yes

First < Previous > Next

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

They arrive at the fair without being followed by Harley, at least she hopes so. Bruce somehow being able to convince Marion to not eat before going on the rides. In return Marion takes them straight to the most intense ride they have.

“Oh darn Mari,” Marinette says being dragged in line, “I don’t think we can go on this one without our disguises falling off,”

“Don’t worry I’ve been on plenty of rides like this and my glasses have never fallen off,”

You have magic glasses you twat! Marinnette glares, getting only a grin, telling her Marion knows exactly what he is doing. She's about to say as much when she notices an unfortunately familiar pair of pigtails in the crowd.

“Mari-” She looks over to her grinning twin.

“You know Nette if you really don't want to go on you don't have to,” Marion teases, Harley Quinn getting way too close to escape.

“On second thought let's go,” Marinette pushes Marion towards the ride, ignoring Bruce's surprise and Marion's taunting.

They get pulled onto the ride, Marinette coming off ghostly pale. Thankfully no Harley Quinn in sight.

“Let’s go again,” Marion starts pushing Marinette back in line, too light headed to stop him.

“How about we try some of the food, instead,” Bruce offers, looking over at her with concern.

“Sure, we can go on the rides later then,” Marion calls cheerfully, skipping off to a cotton candy stand.

“I got played didn’t I?” Bruce asks, watching Marion join the line.

“Like a fiddle,” Marinette starts to get some of the color back in her cheeks, “Don’t worry happens to everyone,”

“Yeah, he’s like his Mom,” Bruce mutters under his breath, but she still hears, “I mean…”

“It’s alright,” Marinette shrugs, walking towards the stand “Cotton candy?”

“Do I have to eat it?” Bruce grimaces, following her.

“Marions going to find a way to make you try it one way or another,”

Marion somehow manages to convince them all to get cotton candy. Bruce being thoroughly confused by it.

“It’s easy, all you do is pull a piece off,” Marinette demonstrates pulling off a piece.

“Or you can just bite it,” Marion faceplants into it.

“And get it all over your face,” Marinette deadpans, sneaking some to Tikki.

“Exactly,” Marion grins, coming back up with pink sugar all over his face.

“And you’re sure I don’t need any utensils,” Bruce says, looking quite out of place with the oversized pink cloud.

“No!” They both shout.

‘Alright then,” He pulls off a piece, cringing as he eats it, “This is just sugar,”

“Precisely,” Marion grins, biting off a big chunk.

“You're going to make yourself sick,” Bruce looks like he’s about to yank it away from him.

“ Precisely ,” Marion says, muffled by the dissolving sugar, “We should try funnel cake next!”

“Dear god, he’s just like Dick,” Bruce frets, watching as Marion bounces to the stall.

“I’m willing to bet Mari’s worse,” She watches as he eyes up the powdered sugar, “he’s a bottomless pit,”

“I think you might me right,” Bruce winces as Marion receives an oversized funnel cake, “that's terrifying,”

“You should see him around cheese,” Marinette suggests innocently, “Especially camembert,”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind,”

Please do

They follow Marion around the food stalls. Marinette is able to keep up by feeding most of her sweet treats to Tikki. Bruce is not so lucky. They come across a mirror maze Marinette points out to give Bruce a break.

“Ah yes the mirror maze the best place to make sure no one recognises you,” Marion recites theatrically.

“The reflections are distorted,” Bruce walks past a mirror making him comically short

“Yeah that guy looks kind of like the Joker,” Marinette looks over to where Marion is pointing.

“Ah Mari,” She hesitates looking over the group of clowns reflected in the mirror that should definitely not be holding guns, “I think that is him,”

“Not again,” Marion mutters, backing up.

She tries to form a plan, they have to make a break for it to change into costumes or people could get hurt. But how are they supposed to so that with Bruce hovering over them. He looks like he’s trying to find an escape route, they have to find a way to protect them and-

“Is that Harley Quinn?” Marion whispers.

Sure enough they watch a reflection of the group making out from the stretched image as Harley walks over to the group and hits the Joker right over the head with a mallet.

“We should leave,” Bruce whispers, herding them in the direction they came.

“Will she be alright?” Marinette asks, watching the fight through a different mirror and gunshots echo.

“Yeah I think she’ll be fine,” Bruce says, as Harley knocks the gunmen's weapons away while hyenas chase after them through the maze.

They exit the maze in record time, Bruce being able to lead them through it easily.

“Do you think we should tell someone?” Marinette asks, there doesn't seem to be any more people going into the maze, maybe it's a Gotham six sense.

“We should,” Bruce agrees, less than enthusiastically.

“Or, or,” Marion dances in front of them, “We could go play some games,”

“We were almost attacked by the Joker and you think that's a good use of time?” Marinette can tell Bruce is thinking the same.

“Exactly! We were almost, so it doesn't count now does it?” Marion doesn't wait for an answer as he rushes off further into the fair.

They have no choice but to sigh and follow after him. Well they do but that's beside the point.

“Oh how awful it is, to not get to partake in the joys of a rollercoaster, unlike yourself whom screams with delight and fear every time-” Marinette uses the water gun to spray in the clown's face, “Hey!”

Unfortunately the clown that is related to her, not the carnival game. Marion tries to grab the water gun and they start fighting over it. Somehow they still manage to get a high score, enough for the big prize. Whether it was her good luck or Marion's bad luck projecting onto the stall runner is unclear.

“Unbelievable,” Marinette sighs as they walk away from the stall.

“Sorry, Nette there's just no love for the bugs,” Marion grins, hugging the giant black cat to his chest.

“I will find a Ladybug, just watch me,” She promises, this was never a problem in Paris, they have tonnes of Ladybug plushies.

“Sure you will,” Marion hums, Bruce just looks amused at their antics.

“If not I’m sewing spots onto the cat,” Marinette threatens, walking between rows of stalls none having a Ladybug plush.

“Nooooo,” Marion cowers, hugging the cat close.

“I think I saw a Ladybug prize somewhere back there,” Bruce points in the opposite direction.

“Where?” Marion runs where Bruce is pointing, Cat raised above his head, “We must go to save Dough boy!”

“Dough boy?” Marinette jogs slightly to keep up.

“From your disproving tone I can tell you approve,” Marion turns on his heel walking backwards.

“You know I technically won that game,” She pokes the cat toy in the chest.

“Please you were losing without me,” Marion grins, people moving out of his way.

“No I wase- look out!” Marinette pushes them both into the gap between stalls.

“What’s wrong?” Bruce asks, on guard looking out for the Joker, Marinette can feel him scanning the area.

“The devil has arrived,” Marion whispers, noticing Lila, “Her dark shadow always follows us,”

“... Pardon?” Bruce relaxes taking it for a joke, which it is most certainly not,  Marinette tenses as Lila sends Kim right to the stall they are hiding behind.

“Girl at school we really don’t like, who really doesn't like us,” Marinette summarises, shallowling inhaling the smell of greasy batter.

“Which one?” Bruce analyses the group of teens near them.

“Sausage hair over there,” Marion nods to her, watching as Kim comes back with a corn dog, “Gasp, cannibalism!”

“Are you telling me Lila wouldn’t eat another human?” Marinette crouches down further keeping to the shadows.

“Are you telling me Lila is human?” Marion mutters back, both keeping their voices down.

“Good one,”

“Thanks,”

“Who’re we spy’n on?”

They all jump at the new voice. Marinette twisting to come nose to nose with Harley Quinn.

“De ja vu,”

“What?” Bruce turns to Marion.

“Nothing!” Marion very smoothly avoids eye contact.

“Spy’in on another date are we?” Harley asks, squeezing in next to the group.

“Another?” Bruce looks between them confused.

The twins frantically shake their heads behind Bruce's back. Harley makes a ‘o’ face and gives a nod.

“We’re spying on the devil,” Marion points at Lila, grateful she could at least serve as a distraction, “Bless whatever unfortunate soul has the displeasure of dating her,”

“Sounds to me like you have some strong opinions,” Bruce says, with slight disbelief, probably thinking they are overreacting.

“Trust me they’re founded,” Marinette whispers, cringing at the shrill laugh Lila gives.

Bruce gives her an expectant look and wedged together between a corn dog stall and who knows what else isn’t the best place to pick a fight.

“That’s a grade A psychopath right there,” Harley finally whispers to them.

“You can tell?” Marinette asks, ignoring Marion giving Bruce a smug look.

“Well from what I can see she’s a manipulative Liar-”

“To put it lightly, I don’t think she’s told the truth once in our years of knowing her,” Marion scowls, as Lila animatedly tells another tale, “Not even her name, don’t you think Lila and liar is a bit too convenient?”

“Anyway, she has pretty much all the class wrapped around her finger,” As if to prove her point Sabrina runs off to fetch her a drink, “Makes up rumours about anyone that doesn't follow her blindly and turns the rest against them,”

“I’m taking it you didn’t follow her blindly?” Bruce guesses, what on earth would give him that idea?

Harley seems to be studying Lila like she is a particularly interesting bug.

“Oh no we just love Lila so much we hide in joy every time she comes near,” Marion retreats further into the shadows, a hair away from actually hissing.

“You went toe to toe with scarecrow are you honestly telling me you're hiding from her,” Bruce studies Lila, as if looking for some sign of danger.

“If it helps she literally appeared in my fear toxin… illusions?” Marion looks for confirmation, Bruce giving a nod, Marinette shrugs he had already told her and didn’t feel like a stretch, “As the devil, soooo…”

“What did that meanie do to you!” Harley cries wrapping Marion in a hug, its alright Bruce only looks very concerned.

“Then I suggest we retreat rather than wait for them to leave,” Bruce offers, Marinette gives a nod but Harley has other plans.

“Not until I fuck that girl up!” Harley stands brandishing a mallet.

“Harley no!” Marinette hisses the three of them trying to pull her back out of the stalls.

“Let me go!” Harley struggles but not with any real strength, making sure not to hit them with the mallet, “She needs to pay,”

“Harley if we wanted her gone we could have done it already,” Marion placates, trying to push her away.

“You want her around?”  Harley stops in her tracks, tilting her head to look like a confused child.

“If we wanted her gone violently ,” Marinette specifies, guiding Harley out the alley.

“So you’ll accept a non violent way?” Bruce speaks up surprisingly.

“Yeah… I guess?” Marinette hesitates, Bruce and Harley share a glance then a nod, whatever just happened it might be better to remain ignorant.

“Well, glad we avoided that disaster,” Marion sighs, as he stretches out.

“What disaster, those outfits? Because you look utterly ridiculous,” They all turn to see Chloe scowling down at them.

That's right they said they would be with their aunt today and had turned down her invitation to the fair.

“Chloe! Hi great to see you,” Marion cringes, backing up under the blondes glare, “And everyone else, what a pleasant surprise,”

“Who were you hiding from?” Kagami asks, or rather demands staring suspiciously at Bruce. She gives a simple nod at the waving Harley.

“Would you believe Lila is here?” Marinette sighs, pointing back at the gap they escaped from.

“I suspected she was after Adrien threw up,” Chloe shrugs, Marinette's concern pushes into overdrive, overlooking Adrien for any signs of damage.

“I think that was more the rides combined with this food,” Kagami informs, looking down at a deep fried hotdog with disgust.

“Guys, please…”  Adrien blushes, glancing at her for some reason.

“Who is this?” Kagami demands, definitely demands this time.

“Harley Quinn-”

“Yes we know that,” Chloe huffs, cutting off Bruce.

“Oh.. um,” Marion exchanges a hesitant glance with both of them, “Bruce Wayne?"

“Right, and why is he here with you two?” Chloe doesn't look impressed at Marion's awkward chuckle.

“Um well… uh,” Marinette tries, glancing at Bruce who doesn't meet her look, “We just happened to be in the area?”

“Bzzt! Wrong! Try again,” Chloe makes and ‘x’ with her fingers.

“Publicity stunt?” Marion says, in the most unconvincing tone conceivable.

“Rion, if you were planning a publicity stunt there  would be confetti glitter and fireworks,”

Marinette tries not to laugh remembering a publicity stunt involving MCD that features exactly that.

“What do you want from me,” Marion whines, hiding behind his large plushie.

“The truth,” Kagami snaps, scowling.

“You don’t have to lie to us,” Adrien says gently, half reaching out to them.

“The truth is…” Marinette trails off, completely weak for the boy but it’s clear Bruce doesn't want them to know.

“... I am their biological Father,”

They all look at him in shock. Marinette’s is a happy shocked, but their friends...

“What?!”

“I knew it!” Harley cheers, jumping up and down.

“But you- there was- you said-” Kagami stutters, a rarity for her.

“You, me,” Chloe points at Marion then at herself, “Words, now ,”

“Someones in ~trouble~,” Marinette whispers over to him.

“You too Marinette Dupain Cheng,” Chloe points right in her face.

“Ohh full name,” Marion returns the favour, “It’s been awhile,”

“Careful Cheng Dupain,” Chloe glowers, Marion chuckles uncomfortably.

“I’m in danger,” Mario gets dragged to the side, Marinette following, leaving Bruce behind.

“You’re in trouble ,” Kagami scolds, as they stop out of earshot from Bruce and Harley who is buzzing around asking a million questions, “If you don’t explain right now,”

“You owe us an explanation,” Chloe lets go of Marion's arm, “You were in the hospital and we were all worried trying to control these rumors and now you tell us its the truth and I-”

“Chlo, I’m sorry Selina only just told us,” Marion cuts off her rant, bordering on tears, he adds, “In the hospital,”

“You’re Aunt told you, but how would she-” Adrien puzzles, realisation dawning, “ No ,”

“Yes?” Marinette backs up a step, everyone realising the same.

“Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous,” Chloe stomps her foot, “How can someone do that?!”

“Chlo, we’re not mad,” Marion tries to placate, Chloe turning on him.

“Of course you're not!” She explodes, “You two are perfect and forgiving which is why I have to be mad for you,”

“I think it would be nicer if you weren't mad and just supportive,” Marion smiles, Chloe's anger crumbling around her.

“... but it’s so much easier to be mad,” She whines, “Can’t I be angrily supportive?”

“I feel like you're going to be anyway,” Marion grins, one of whom they both know Chole is powerless against.

“So what are you doing now?” Adrien asks, looking back at Bruce who is now arguing wiht Harley, or rather getting yelled at.

“Trying to figure things out I guess?” Marinette looks over to confirm with Marion, “Bruce wants us to be sure we want, this,”

She gestures around herself, not sure what she means either.

“Do you want it?” Kagami asks carefully.

“... We want to try,” Marion gets a nod from Marinette.

“Very well, I will make sure he is worthy of you,” Kagami stomps off towards Bruce.

“Kags, you really don’t have to do that!” Marion calls, chasing after her.

“And she’s gone,” Marinette sighs, turning to the others, both smiling, “Adrien, Chloe can you do something?”

“We sure can,” Chloe walks over next to Kagami who is chewing out Bruce with Harley, “So, what do you want with my friends?”

“Not what I meant!” Marinette yells, getting a pat on the shoulder from Adrien.

“Quite you, the adults are talking,” Chloe waves her off.

“I’m older than you!”

“You should know they already have amazing parents that you can't replace,” Adrein adds to the onslaught of demands from the girls, a lot less threatening.

“I know, I’m not trying to,” Bruce answers evenly, still looking concerned at their guard dog like friends.

“Very well, you should know they are both amazing, and if you show anything less than a hundred percent support I will slice you in half,” Kagami threatens, and if she had her sword she would be holding it to his throat.

“Kagami no,” Marion tries to calm her down.

“You’re right, I will make it far more painful,” She growls.

“~Nooo~,” Marion backs down, hugging the cat to his chest.

“That's right, and don’t you dare think that just because your a billionaire your money will cut it,” Chloe scoffs, “Trust me the twins aren't that superficial, in fact they aren't superficial at all, it's frustrating,”

“She said twins,” Marion whispers to her as the demands continue.

“Package deal,” She hisses back, Bruce looking more and more overwhelmed by the pushy teens.

“Good friends you got there,” Harley whispers, content to let the chew out Bruce.

“What were you yelling at him for?”

“Oh nothin, he said some crap about not wanting to put you in danger, so I calmly explained the psychology behind it,” She crosses her arms smugly, “I think I got through to him,”

“If you're worried you should know Mari- they are really strong and can protect themselves,” Adrein says, Bruce starts to agree but is cut off.

“Hey! You were going to say Marinette! Weren’t you?” Marion demands, distracting the three from their onslaught.

“Both your names start with Mari,” Kagami points out, turning to him.

“Are you so insecure you immediately thought he meant Marinette?” Chloe taunts, inspecting her nails.

“No-I,”

“Geeze Rion I know Marinette awesome but your, you know… ok,” Adrien joins her teasing, muttering, “I guess,”

“That’s it, I’m disowning every one of you,” Marion points at each of them before turning to Bruce, “By the way, these are my ex-friends we used to be quite close, then they made the decision to humiliate me and I cut them out of my life forever,”

“Don’t be like that Rion,” Chloe grins, leaning against him.

“Yeah just because Marinette probably won that prize,” Adrien takes his other side, poking at the cat.

“She did not!”

“I did,” Marinette grins, Marion rolls his eyes.

“It was a team effort,”

“Heavily leaning on Marinette,” Kagami adds.

“Alright, let's settle this,” Marion looks at Bruce, “Where did you see that Ladybug?”

“Follow me,” Bruce smiles minutely leading the way.

“Ohh, Ladybug, maybe I should get one,” Chloe gushes, as if she didn’t have a hundred Ladybug plushies already.

“Yeah I can win it for you,” Marinette smirks, flexing her muscles.

“That does it! I’m winning that prize and sewing on cat ears,” Marion pouts, getting cooed at as they point out Marinette is the better seamstress.

“So how’ve you two been doin?” Harley asks, walking in between Chloe and Kagami.

The two start blushing, spluttering denial; which does nothing to convince Harley, or anyone else for that matter. Bruce follows them through the fair on their search for the Ladybug. If Marinette saw him taking pictures as they fought to win the Ladybug first, she wasn't going to say anything.

---------

Hi sorry I missed a few days life got busy>-< Also sorry if I don’t respond to messages or likewise I’m still trying to figure out Tumblr I’ll get there eventually... hopefully.

Taglist:

@technicallyburninggarden @fusser90  @misslenamooney @superbwhispersconnoisseur @biodad-bruce-month @nalu-ismyjam @the-one-woman-army @rosesandsailboats @blackmagicforever @zeneralla @ivymala07 @tired-butterfly @tired-butterfly @Ranger-gothamite @A-star-with-a-human-name @enchanted-nerd

[ttttaehyungie]

sincerely, but no longer yours | chapter 3

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sincerely, but no longer yours | ex!kim namjoon x reader

genre | angst, exes au

summary | It started as a coping mechanism as getting the words out provided a form of catharsis. But now you can’t stop writing these love letters, even with the knowledge that they’ll never get sent. After all, who writes love letters to their ex?

word count | 3.9k

chapter rating | PG-13

warnings | none

a/n | here we gooooo!! part threeeee c: can’t believe I actually churned this out when my life has been in c h a o s also this is barely edited im so sorry

Percussive knocks rap crisply on your apartment door. You fling the door open and your heart leaps in your chest at the sight. There he stands.

Up and rising dance instructor. Groove personified. Ball of literal sunshine.

And in your experience, the best big brother on the planet.

The overnight bag hits the wooden floor with a hollow thud as he abandons it in favor of yanking you into a tight embrace. A grin widens on your face that you're certain mirrors his.

"Hoseok," you breathe into his chest, your face smushed against his oversized yellow shirt. The enveloping warmth of his arms around you has you melting. "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you more. Let me take a good look at you." He puts you at arm's length. "You've grown so much in the time we've been apart."

"Hoseok." You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face doesn’t falter. "It's only been a month."

"Hey. A lot happens in a month."

The truth of his words, unknown to him but oddly relevant nonetheless, has you biting your lip before you can stop yourself.

"Here, I'll help you with your bag," you say, hauling the duffel bag off the ground, giving you something else to look at. You can only hope that Hoseok hasn't already picked up on the nervous blips. "It's been a long ride for you."

"And they say chivalry is dead," he jokes, but follows after you without further comment. Guess you're in the clear.

But you steer the conversation to a topic that you know will engross him for sure. Y’know. Just in case.

"So, what classes did you sign up for this weekend?" you ask over your shoulder, managing a tone so casual that you celebrate internally.

"You'll never believe it.” The words come tumbling out, voice shimmering with excitement. Even without turning to look at him, you can picture the way his eyes are surely set alight. You know this tone, and it has you hooked now, the anticipation of amazing news builds in your chest. "Y'know that choreographer, Jo? The one that's completely booked out every single weekend?”

You nod quickly, turning to look at him with wide eyes.

“Well.” The smugness in his tone is thick. “Guess who got a slot for her class!”

Genuine surprise elicits a gasp from you. "No way! How'd you even manage that?"

"Hard work and sheer determination.” A fist pump punctuates his words. “I camped on the booking site on multiple devices with multiple accounts so I could snag a spot the moment the slots open."

You snort at his antics.

"I can't believe I'm going to be learning from such a giant in the industry," he says, unable to resist breaking into a little dance as he pushes the door to the study cum guest room open. "It feels like I've won the freaking lottery."

The effervescent excitement is uncontainable. Even the task of unpacking can’t interrupt his rave about the choreographer who shot to cyber fame with her fluid movements. You let him let it loose, leaning against the doorway, watching him.

"Ok," he says, putting his hands on his hips. "That's enough about me. How did your lecture go today?"

The breath catches in your lungs, the shock of seeing Namjoon coming back in a second wave.

“It was alright,” you attempt to mask it in the same casual tone you mustered up just minutes ago. But there’s an unmistakable tightness to your words.

Hoseok’s eyes bore into you. Damn. There’s no escaping now.

“____?” he probes, his tone laced with the same concern lying in his gaze.

"Hey, um," you rub at your arms, "we have an unexpected dinner guest tonight. Is that ok with you?"

“____,” he repeats, firmer this time. “What happened?"

You exhale heavily, grounding yourself with the feel of the carpet underneath your scrunched up toes as you tell him, "I bumped into Joon today. At the lecture."

Chancing a glance at him to gauge his reaction, you watch as he schools his features into an expressionless mask. But his eyes widen by just a fraction, betraying his surprise as he processes the information.

After a second, he nods stiffly, and turns back to the duffel bag on the bed to take the last of his belongings out. His tone is measured and even as he asks, "How was it?"

The plush mattress provides you marginal comfort as you plop onto the bed next to him.

"Honestly? Like a punch in the gut." The laugh that escapes you is bitter. "When will I stop being winded just by the mere sight of him, Hobi?"

The smile he shoots you is empathetic but sad. He reaches over to muss up your hair, the action tender and fond. "It'll happen in time," he promises.

The restrictive tightness in your chest is uncomfortable and you attempt to expel it in a sigh as you lean backwards, propped up by the elbow. Staring at your toes as if they’re a source of endless fascination gives you an excuse not to look your brother in the eye.

“But would you care to explain what convinced you to invite him to dinner?”

“Hobi… I just…” Your back hits the mattress as you flop back entirely, groaning up at the ceiling. No choice but to spit the truth out now. “His eyes, they just do things to me.”

Craning your neck to look at him, regret hits you when you catch sight of his frown. You drop your head back down. The ceiling's a much better option to look at.

“You have a soft spot for him.” It’s less a question and more a statement. A statement that you assent to with a strangled noise.

“Look. I get it. It’s just, I worry for you. The state you were in when you came back that night…” This time, he lets out a sigh of his own. The bed shifts, accommodating his weight where he takes a seat next to you. "You were a wreck, ____.” He shakes his head, his brow furrowed. “I don't want to have to relive those days.”

He’s not speaking out of turn. Guilt gnaws at you and you turn your head to face the wall. Bringing Namjoon back into your life implicated Hoseok too. Your brokenness had not been yours to bear alone. On the nights when you felt like you were falling apart, it was your brother who’d held you as you sobbed damp spot after damp spot into his t-shirts.

“Do you think it's too soon?” Your voice sounds small even in your ears. “Even though it's been years?”

“I can’t answer that for you, ____.”

You remain quiet, still staring at the blank wall.

“Well." He slaps his hands on his thighs and hauls himself off the bed, breaking the silence. "I owe him a long overdue meet-up anyway. He's been bugging me to have a meal together with him for the longest time now- which is next to impossible, y’know, with the way the studio just keeps getting busier and busier.”

A hand enters your field of vision, outstretched and waiting. "Dinner?"

You grasp it and he pulls you up. His grip is a firm anchor, both physically and emotionally.

"Dinner," you echo. "I can do this."

You can’t do this.

Whatever idealism you had possessed an hour ago within the safe confines of your apartment was gone now, mellowed out and boiled down to unforgiving reality.

At least you have Hoseok.

Despite your earlier hesitation to tell your brother about the events that had transpired through the day, you're now relieved you did and infinitely thankful for his presence. If any iciness remains from whatever lingering unsaid tension that exists between you and Namjoon, it quickly melts away under the warmth that is Hoseok's affability.

It was awkward at first, no doubt. As you slid into the booth to sit across Namjoon, it definitely didn’t escape your attention how he was unable to keep eye contact with you, his shifty eyes stoking the nervousness that simmered in the pit of your stomach.

The conversation had been polite but stiff, filled with small talk about each other’s jobs. As if you didn’t already know all about how he’d made it as a published author from all the times you eavesdropped on Hobi’s phone calls. He was in the middle of narrating his book’s main plot when your mind’s eye jumped, involuntarily, to the books guiltily buried away in the corner of your closet underneath a bunch of t-shirts. It was an impulse buy, you lie to yourself.

Yes, you’ve read his books. Multiple times. Pored over every word and analyzed every character in search of snippets of yourself. Hoping to know whether he’s forgotten you and moved on from you or whether he’s still affected by the breakup in the same way you don’t dare to admit that you are.

But that’s just in your times of weakness. Everyone has those, you reason, and you’re allowed to too.

Make no mistake- you did get over Namjoon. The box of letters sits in your desk drawer as the fruits of that. There’s a reason why you can’t bring yourself to dump those letters out after all these years. They’re unfiltered and ugly and raw, but they’re an archive of the journey you went through. You’re over it.

Or you were over it. Being in this city and seeing him triggers something in you and seems to throw you back a couple of steps somehow.

Maneuvering your way through the exchange, carefully feigning ignorance about the plot of his novels, you were walking a tightrope. But thankfully, before you could get caught in your self-spun web of lies, the conversation takes a sharp left.

In a sudden outburst of, “Why are we speaking as if we’re at some corporate networking event?!” accompanied by a smack on the table, Hoseok shattered the cordial but fake and, frankly, uncomfortable atmosphere that had settled over the booth. The three of you broke into genuine laughter for the first time in the evening. And finally, the dinner conversation took a more casual and informal turn.

In spite of your wariness, the pull that Hoseok’s words exerted was irresistible and you found yourself gradually loosening up. It began with unbidden smiles that progressed to quiet giggles- not unlike the one that followed Hoseok’s earlier outburst- that quickly gave way to carefree and unfiltered laughter.

And now?

"Remember when you broke the swingset at our house?" Hoseok jabs his fork at Namjoon who sits across from him at the table.

"That was not on me,” he quips. “That swingset was rickety before I sat on it."

Your throat constricts around your food slightly painfully with the way you gulp down your food to interject, "No way, Joon. We only had that swingset for two weeks before you broke it."

Hoseok nods in corroboration, his features colored in a grave seriousness. “She’s right. I remember my joy on that swingset being extremely short-lived.”

"Can't believe you care more about that swingset than me." Namjoon pouts. "My butt was bruised for at least a week from that accident."

But Hoseok dismisses this with a wave of his hand. "Bruises heal. Swingsets don't."

You smile around the rim of your glass, taking a swig. Cheeks sore with how much you’ve been smiling, you think, you really can’t do this.

You've missed this. You’ve missed the days filled with this innocent and untroubled feeling of happiness. When it was just this pair of best friends and you were the little sister that just tagged along at first, but got pulled in as a real member of the trio. You were the little sister that Hobi adored, and the little sister that Joon had always wished he'd had, and you looked up to both of them so much.

The playful teasing between mouthfuls of food and the easy laughter shared as all three of you let loose over a couple drinks has you warming up in a way that's not just from the alcohol.

You’ve missed this. But you can’t.

You glance upwards and the softness in Namjoon’s eyes all crinkled up by his beaming smile has you realizing just how much you’ve missed him. But you can’t, you can’t, you ca-

Next to you, Hoseok’s movements interrupt your internal self-admonishment. He sets his utensils down with a clang on his empty plate. "Hey, I’ll go pick up the bill."

"Let me." Namjoon fumbles for his wallet as he gets on his feet. But Hoseok puts a hand on his shoulder to sit him back down.

"Nah man, you paid the last time and I've been meaning to give ____ a treat too. This one's on me."

Hoseok disappears off to settle the bill, leaving just you and Namjoon. In stark contrast to his earlier inability to maintain eye contact, he’s now staring intently at you. The intensity of his gaze has your cheeks growing warm.

It’s your turn to struggle with eye contact. Unsure what to do with your hands or where to look, you're just about to succumb to the urge to start fidgeting when Namjoon sighs, inciting a stolen glance at him. His gaze is on his hands now where they sit on the table, a gentle smile gracing his features.

"I've missed this,” he says softly.

You can’t, you can’t, you can’t.

"Me too," you admit. You’re weak.

His gaze darts back upwards to look you in the eyes, and your heart rate picks up.

“I've missed you.”

It’s shy. It’s barely audible. But you catch it. It startles your heart into a racing pulse, pounding in your ribcage.

"Namjoon.” You don’t miss the way his face falls slightly at how you revert to his full name. “You can't-"

He leans forward as he shakes his head. "I'm not... I..." He cuts himself off with a huff of frustration. His long fingers tap rapidly on the table the way they always do when he’s collecting his thoughts.

"I'm really sorry for what happened, ____.” His eyes bore into yours with a pleading sincerity that has your hands fidgeting under the table and out of sight. “I'm really sorry that things ended the way they did. And I know I don't deserve to be asking this, ____. But I've really missed... all this." He gestures to the booth, to your trio. "And I guess what I'm asking is, will you forgive me? And... will it be okay to see you again? Just as friends. Nothing more."

You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

You fold your hands in your lap, still hidden away from sight so he can’t see the nervous energy they exude as you deliberate your next words carefully.

"Joon, you really hurt me the last time. Really deeply.” The temptation to avert your gaze is immense, but you power through. But that leaves you to witness the flicker of guilt in his eyes. “And as nice as tonight was, I'm just not sure if I'm ready to have you back in my life completely yet."

“Ok, I understand. That's fair. I have no rights to make any demands on you when things ended the way they did.”

His eyes are downcast and he trails off into silence.

But just as you’re about to heave a sigh of relief, thinking he’s dropped it, he starts again, the hesitation clear in his shaky voice, "Can I give you my number? So you can think it over and text me if you ever want to be friends again. Like what you said, tonight was really nice."

His hand hovers over where your phone sits on the table, tentative without your go-ahead.

“Or you can just decide to throw it out and delete me from your life forever,” he begins rambling nervously. “I'll respect that too. I just can't leave things the way they are without doing anything I can to attempt to make reconciliation happen.”

You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

That’s when you make the fatal mistake of looking him in the eye. The way he's looking at you…

You can’t. Or can you?

Like what you told Hoseok, you’re close to powerless when Namjoon looks at you like that.

Relenting, you flip his hand around and place your phone into his waiting palm.

"Okay. Fine. I'll think about it."

"Thank you,” he says breathily. His dimpled smile and eyes aglow send your heartbeat stuttering.

As Namjoon's keying his phone number into your phone, Hoseok returns. The action doesn't go unnoticed by him, and the way he eyes your phone in Namjoon's hands has you squirming in your seat slightly. But Namjoon, gleeful with the hope of possible reconciliation, is none the wiser.

You, meanwhile, know that you’re in for a lot of explaining.

“It’s just a number, Hoseok,” you say the moment the subway pulls out of the station and away from Namjoon’s waving figure. It’s been sitting heavy on your tongue ever since the restaurant, and you take the first chance you get to spit it out. Never has the walk from the diner to the station felt so long.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah,” you fold your arms, stumbling slightly on the rickety carriage, but you maintain your indignant expression, “but your look said everything.”

You exhale heavily as you grip back onto the grab pole. You continue, softer this time, “He’s just asking to be friends.”

Hoseok purses his lips and the silence sits for a moment.

“What are you thinking?” he eventually asks.

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “It’s just… a lot. What happened between us was a lot.”

You clear your throat and continue, “But the years of friendship in our little trio were a lot too. And tonight was a huge reminder of how good things used to be… of how good things could be.”

“So, what are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know.” You repeat, looking back at Hoseok now. “What should I do?”

“I can’t decide that for you.”

What a classic Hoseok response. Why did you even ask?

“He’s genuinely sorry,” you murmur, speaking more to yourself than to your brother.

“He is,” Hoseok affirms, his eyes softening now as he nods in agreement.

“And it’ll be just friends, nothing more.” Again, you’re not entirely sure of whether your words are meant to be consoling your brother or yourself.

“Do you want that? Being friends with him again and having him in your life again?”

Do you?

You try to consider it rationally, you really do.

But the emotions overtake you. Perhaps it’s from tonight’s dinner, a sampling of what it’d be like to have him as a friend again. Perhaps it’s the recognition of how wasteful it truly is to dump decades of friendship out the window.

Or perhaps it’s the revelation that you could never be angry with Namjoon, as much as you want to be. And you really want to be. He deserves it. After the way he let your relationship end without putting up a fight, after he left you shattered and the way you had to piece yourself back together shard by shard in the aftermath, he deserves your wrath.

But you can’t do it.

Especially not now when his repentance is so sincere. Not when he’s earnestly trying to make things right.

So do you want him back in your life? It’s irrational, it’s dumb, it’s risky, but you honestly could never help yourself when it comes to Namjoon.

“Yes,” you decide. “I’ve missed him, Hobi. I know it’s dumb to miss him after all these years and after what he did, but I still do.”

Hoseok slings an arm around you and pulls you into his chest. “Yeah, it’s pretty dumb,” he says, and you snort as you swat at his chest. “But if that’s how you feel, then that’s how you feel.”

“It’s been so strange,” comes your quiet admission. “He’s just always been there, y’know? And not having him around feels like having a limb missing.”

“Mmhm.” It’s barely a sound, but you know it’s Hoseok’s way of saying he understands, and it fills you with a deep sense of assurance and validation.

The train pulls to a stop, and you realize with a jolt that it’s your station. Reluctantly, you pull away from the hug and tug Hoseok out the doors. “C’mon.”

The apartment is just a few streets down from the station and, with your hands stuffed into the pockets of your jacket, your fists rubbing against the rough denim, you walk along silently. The sound of Hoseok’s footsteps beside you fades into rhythmical ambient noise the deeper you fall into thought.

It’s when you’re unlocking the door to your apartment, keys jangling, that Hoseok asks the very same question that you’ve been mulling over on the walk back.

“Can you forgive him?”

It’s surprising. Even to you. You always imagined it’d play out in either one of two ways- cutting words or punishing silence. But now that the moment has really arrived, you realize just how willing you are to extend forgiveness to him.

“I think I have to,” you begin slowly. “Not for him, but for me, y’know?” You nod, your certainty growing as you verbalize your thoughts. “Yeah. I have to do this. It’s getting tiring carrying all this resentment and bitterness around.”

The lock clicks open and you move to enter the apartment.

“Hey,” Hoseok says, placing a hand on your shoulder gently that has you pausing. “Whatever decision you make, just know that I support you.”

You wrap your brother in a quick side-hug. “Thanks, Hobi. That means a lot to me.”

Rolling over to switch your alarm off, you nestle back under the covers to catch a few more winks.

That’s when it all comes rushing back to you, and your initial plan to snooze is screwed. Did all that really happen? Did you really sit down to have dinner with Namjoon?

And did you really not reject his attempt at a peace offering? Young ____ would be so disappointed.

It feels a little unbelievable. I mean, sure, you’ve run into him more than a couple of times now. But never would you have imagined you would have him truly in your life again.

That is- if you would let him in. You haven’t replied to him, wanting to sleep on your decision for extra clarity.

Clarity, your ass. Through the thick fog of heavy sleep, it all feels like it could be nothing more than a fever dream.

But you can hear Hoseok’s snoring coming from the next room. And the memories of last night- the yellow lighting of the diner, the overly salty fries you kept picking at regardless, the jab of Hobi’s elbow into your side as he teased you, the way your sides ached from laughing so hard, the way those obsidian eyes pulled you in as they set on you from across the table- they’re too vivid to be made up.

And the one thing that will conclusively prove it- you prop yourself up to scroll through your contacts list. There. Sitting in your contacts is his name. The name you’d deleted off your phone all those years ago in a fit of anger, but now restored to its rightful place.

[8.03am] ____: hey joon, it’s ____.

You chew on your lip as you type and delete and re-type and repeat.

[8.07am] ____: do you have any plans for today? wanna do something?

[imagine-darksiders]

Yooo, so I know a long time ago, you wrote a scenario where I think death and Draven were trying to help the human with her period. She was having bad cramps and needed pads and such. Do you still have that story? Lol, I’ve been looking through the tags, but can’t seem to find it (I’m also on my period, so I was reminded of the story and how good it was lol)

Oh yeah! The format was all weird on the old post, but hopefully it’s righted itself on this one.

War: The youngest rider of the apocalypse was slowly coming to learn that humans are far tougher than he’d initially considered. Specifically those humans who have a uterus.

“Oh, come on! Shit. There’s got to be some around here.”

War jerks his head to the side when yet another empty and slightly singed cardboard box goes sailing past his head. He raises a snowy eyebrow down at the offending object as it thuds softly against a shelf of mismatched bottles. Upon inspection, some of the oddly coloured containers have words like ‘shampoo’, ‘conditioner’ and the like. Truly, humans are bewildering.

The horseman’s other eyebrow rises to join its twin as he turns to peer down at you curiously.

“Y/n?” he pipes up, “What are you doing?”

The deep, rumbling voice of your travelling companion doesn’t disturb you from your search aside from tossing your head over a shoulder to look back at him and grumble, “Just looking for something. Won’t be a minute.”

War frown and tilts his hooded head to one side. You’d been ‘just looking for something’ in every single human supermarket you’d come across for the past two days. Something is clearly wrong, but no matter how much he probes, you seem reluctant to divulge anything to him.

Another small box bounces uselessly off his chest and he throws it a cursory scowl before stepping up behind you. He’s about to protest your vague answer when suddenly, you hiss and double over, clutching at your stomach and letting out a string of breathless expletives under your breath.

That in itself would be cause enough to alarm the hulking horseman. But what really rankles him, is that when you’d bent over, he caught a flash of something highly concerning and terribly familiar.

“Y/N!” the horseman barks, raising his hands calmingly, “Don’t move.”

You freeze in your spot, panic suddenly shooting up from your stomach and into your chest.

“Oh god. What? What is it!? Is there something on me? War? What’s wrong!?”

Honestly, you expected him to pull some kind of hideously mutated bug from your shoulder. What you didn’t expect, was for him to huff at you and press his enormous hand on your back, keeping you in place and growling, “Why didn’t you tell me that you’d been wounded?” equal parts frustrated and concerned.

At his exclamation, you pale and shoot a glance back at him before you spot where his gaze is directed. With a curse, you stand up straight and slip out from beneath his hand, twisting yourself painfully around to see if-

“Damn it,” you seethe, “I really liked these trousers.”

War allows his mouth to drop open in a wide gape. Here you are, a small, frail little human, losing precious lifeblood and in obvious pain, but the object of your concern is none other than your clothing. He shakes his head and steps closer to you again. 

“If you are injured, allow me to-”

“Hey! Woah there!” you shout, jumping back from the approaching horseman and swatting his hovering hands away, “I’m not injured, I’m just….you know… “

Scowl deepening, War grunts at you questioningly and continues his advance. It takes you a second to realise that he does not, in fact, know.

“Wait….You don’t…” Your face falls incredulously with a hint of mild agony thrown in the mix as a fresh wave of cramps suddenly thrums in your abdomen.

You really do not have the time to explain anatomy to a clueless horseman.

You wave your hands dismissively in the air. “Okay, look. I’ll explain what’s going on, but I really need you to help me find a full box of these.” One of the box-projectiles is held up in front of the horseman’s face. He squints at the bright, eye-catching writing on the side and his lips twist around the foreign word.

“Tampons?”

You click your fingers and point at him excitedly. “That’s the one.” 

War casts his gaze around for a moment, then, his eyes land on something on the very top shelf, set far back from the edge. He reaches out and takes it up delicately in his large, gauntleted hand then pouts down at it and gives it a gentle shake. Definitely full.

The horseman passes the box down to you and waits with bated breath as you inspect his find. He almost blanches when you suddenly cry out.

“YES! YES, WAR! These are-” You clutch the prized possessions to your chest and beam up at him, “-These are perfect. Thank you!”

His chest swells with pride.

“Alright,” you shove the tampons into your rucksack and place your hands on your hips, “Ready for code red. I’ll need to find a bathroom soon.” 

“Code red?” War squints in confusion and pulls his lips back, exposing his teeth when he remembers that, essentially, you are still bleeding. Humming, you grimace up at his befuddled expression.

“Riiiight, I still owe you an explanation, don’t I?”

He nods urgently.

“Okay, I’ll explain while we try to find some Ibuprofen,” you rumble, placing a hand on your back and wincing at the ache there. War’s vibrant eyes catch the look of discomfort on your face and he immediately starts to pick up boxes, peering down at the faded little words that he doesn’t recognise. “Eye-eyeboop….?” he trails off and stares down at you apologetically. You bite your lip to keep yourself from laughing.

“Come on, it won’t be here, it’ll be in the pharmaceuticals.” Placing your delicate hand on his own, metal arm, you steer the giant horseman out of the isle and launch into what’s sure to be a painful explanation.

That night, your period hit you full force. It alarmed War to no end when you’d suddenly shot up from your seated position next to the fire you’d built and went hurtling behind a rusted transit van whilst shouting, “I’m alright! Don’t follow me, I’ll be right back!”

Naturally, War had gotten up to follow after you, but another scream of, “Don’t you dare come around this van!” had him freezing in place and pacing impatiently.

After only a minute or so, you return, sporting a miserable expression and an exhausted gait.

You collapse on the ground once again, turning to look up at War when he thuds down next to you.

“Code…code red?” he asks, testing the unfamiliar phrase on his tongue. You simply nod and pull your rucksack out from underneath you, rustling through it until you find a bottle of half-drunk water and a small, white painkiller. War was the one to find it, in the end. Only after you’d all but fallen down into a weeping heap before you even made it to the medical supplies. He’d….admittedly lost his cool a bit and started to frantically scour the shelves for the odd pills whilst you sobbed miserably.

In the end, he hadn’t allowed you to walk back to the camp.

Now, you couldn’t be more thankful to the Red Rider if you’d tried. He looks on edge, unsure of himself for once, and thoroughly out of sorts. He wouldn’t admit it to you, but he hated the fact that you were hurt and he hadn’t been able to stop it.

He’s pulled from his thoughts when your head suddenly rests against his arm and you sigh tiredly.

“This sucks. First the end of the world and now this.”

Your hands fall on your stomach and begin to massage it. “Thanks for your help, War.”

He grunts in reply, raising his arm so that you fall against his side instead, then he allows it to fall back to the ground, pinning you against him slightly.

“You should rest over the coming days,” he rumbles.

Your eyes flicker up to him, “War, no. I can’t ask you to put your revenge quest on hold for me.”

“The Destroyer can wait,” the horseman argues softly, “If you bleed out-”

“War, I told you, I’m not going to bleed out,” you scoff.  He simply grumbles quietly, but otherwise doesn’t respond.

For close to an hour, you both sit and stare into the fire. War is as alert as ever, ears pricked and hand resting close to Chaos Eater, just in case. You, however, begin to feel your eyes droop. The painkillers have finally begun to work and the distinct lack of pain coupled with the horseman’s warm half-embrace is enough to tempt you closer to sleep.

Reluctantly, you make to stand up, hoping to get to your bedroll before you collapse, but you’re surprised when War suddenly tightens his hold on you and shakes his head. Surprised, but too tired to argue, you thump back down into the nook at his side and rest your head back against the broad chest.

War offers no explanation for his sudden clinginess, nor do you ask for one. Instead, you simply smile up at him, which he doesn’t return, choosing to furrow his brow at you and demand, “Sleep.”

You’re only too happy to oblige.

Death and Draven: Well it had to happen eventually. It had been a little under a month since you’d literally come crashing down upon the eldest horseman’s head, that fateful day after the apocalypse. But really? The Eternal throne? Certainly not the best location for a period to strike. Still, as you’d said -

It had to happen eventually.

Death stalks across the courtyard towards the Chancellor, who sneers at the approaching horseman. You, however, manage to make it about halfway around the training circle that Draven and his spectre apprentices occupy before you’re suddenly hit with the sensation of getting sucker-punched in the gut.

“Holy shiiiiiit,” you whine loudly, “Death?”

The horseman pauses mid stride, tossing an irritable look over his shoulder, but the irate glare quickly fades into an uneasy frown as he takes in the washed-out pallor of your face. He elects to ignore the Chancellor’s barked question, instead turning on his heel and making his way back across the courtyard.

Behind you, a gruff voice asks you if you’re alright. Then, a large, spectral hand lands on your shoulder and before you know it, Draven is looming at your back with his brow bones knitted together, concerned. It suddenly dawns on you that the undead warrior used to be a human himself. Perhaps if anyone were to understand, it would be him. You cast the approaching horseman a wary glance and take note of how many residents of the Eternal Throne have stopped what they’re doing to watch. You cower self-consciously backwards into Draven’s chest and whisper up to him. “So, you know that….thing, that happens to a woman every month or so?” Trailing off, you crane your neck backwards to look up at the undead. He casts you a quizzical look for a moment, tilting his head to the side. All it takes is an expectant raise of your eyebrows and suddenly, it hits him.

“Oh…OH!” The Blademaster’s loose jaw nearly unhinges in disbelief. “You mean, right now, you’re…?”

You nod desperately as Death finally joins the both of you. If you’d been paying proper attention to the horseman and not the excruciating pain in your abdomen, you might have noticed how he bristles when Draven wraps a protective arm around your shoulders and leans close to your ear to whisper something.

“Undercroft?” the man murmurs.

You sigh with relief and affirm, “Undercroft.”

Draven hums before giving you a gentle squeeze and nudging you towards Death.

“Take Y/n down into the Undercroft,” he tells the horseman, who looks as though he’s about to object to being ordered around by the undead, but Draven continues, “S'in the kid’s best interest. I’ll be right back.”

With that, he turns to fix a ghostly eye on the onlookers.

“Don’t recall telling you lot to stop training!” he barks fiercely. “G'wan! Get back to it!”

Death replaces Draven’s arm with one of his own, draping it around your shoulders and smirking when the other undead all fall over themselves trying to pretend they hadn’t been gawking at you.

“Would you care to tell me what’s going on?” the horseman mutters in a hushed tone. You open your mouth to reply but bite your tongue when a stab of fresh pain lances through your stomach. So instead, you groan and hobble towards the undercroft with a highly confused Death in tow.

—---

Down in the storage room beneath the Dead King’s throne room, the horseman gently guides you to sit down on a pile of mouldy old cloth. It smells like the dead, but then again, that isn’t exactly unusual in this realm. Besides, right now, it’s the most comfortable place in the universe.

You briefly bring Death up to speed on your anatomy and what’s going on, and when you do, you’re surprised to see him violently smack his open palm against the side of his head, hissing to himself, “Of course, how could I have forgotten. Idiot.”

As it turns out, Death is all too aware of this particular plight.

He mumbles an apology and slumps down onto the rags beside you.

“Is there…” he hesitates, coughing before asking, “…anything I can do?”

You swing your head towards him slowly and blink, smiling a tired smile.

“Got any painkillers in your Mary Poppins bag?”

He snorts. This isn’t the first time you’d likened him to this ‘Mary Poppins’ character.

Unfortunately for you, he shrugs. “Fresh out, I’m afraid.”

“Oh well,” you say with a wince. “Can’t have everything, I guess.”

The horseman beside you hums in agreement, then turns to face you properly, shifting around on his knees.

“Tell me where it hurts.”

You meet his gaze with a bewildered frown. But, hesitantly, you gesture to your entire stomach. “All over. Head, back, stomach mostly.”

There’s a responding hum, then a large, cold hand is placed firmly over your stomach and starts to rub in small, gentle circles.  

Of course, you flinch away, mostly due to the supernatural chill of his skin, but when you recognise that he’s actually trying to be considerate, you fall still and watch him, astonished.

The horseman doesn’t meet your curious eyes in favour of staring down at your stomach in mock concentration until there’s the sound of footsteps on the wooden stairs.

As if it’s become a natural reflex, Death suddenly throws his arm out in front of you and whips his head around to the source of the noise but he relaxes the moment he sees it’s only Draven.

“How’re you doing?” the warrior asks when he spots you and the horseman sitting at the back of the storage room.

A quick glance at Death, then you look back to Draven and smile up at him.

“Better now, thanks. Where’ve you been?”

The pain in your stomach flares up again, causing you to curl in on yourself a little more and snap your legs shut for fear that your trousers could be stained without you realising it. Draven shoots you a look of sympathy, replying, “Went to see the old goat. Thought he might have something that can help.”

Death’s hand returns to your abdomen and begins its gentle, circling motions once again. Meanwhile, you groan and stretch yourself out, trying to find a more comfortable position.

“And?” you grumble.

In response, the Blademaster holds up a familiar packet, so familiar, you could almost weep. You honestly thought you’d seen the last of them since leaving Earth.

“He gave me these,” he grimaces, “Not like any clouts I’ve ever seen, but Ostegoth assured me they were all the rage back on Earth.”

A giggle stirs in you and bursts out before you can stop it. He looks so utterly out of place. If you were a little less tactful, you’d tell him he looked adorable.

But instead, you offer him a grateful smile and hold out your hand to receive the blessed packet of sanitary towels.

“Draven, you are a Godsend. Thank you.”

The Blademaster ducks his head and rubs at the back of his neck sheepishly with a calloused hand. “Dunno about that, I’m just sorry I couldn’t find something to help with the pain,” he laments.

“Don’t worry about it,” you chuckle and throw your thumb over at Death, “got a horseman for that.”

Said horseman huffs. “I can always stop,” he threatens, lifting his hand slightly.

“Actually,” you shift forwards, getting ready to begrudgingly stand up, “You might have to stop, for now. I need to put one of these on.” You shake the packet in your hand and Death follows you up. He moves to stand next to Draven and they both just stand there, watching you curiously. Peering at them, you clear your throat pointedly and in an instant, both Blademaster and horseman jump, spinning around to avert their eyes and give you some much-appreciated privacy.

You can’t help but to laugh through the pain and shake your head amusedly. Gazing down at the sanitary towels in your hand, you make a mental note to thank Ostegoth profusely and ask him how he managed to get his hands on them at all. You may still be in pain, craving something sugary and wanting to just scream and cry at the same time, but at least you won’t have to worry about leaking. Draven assures you that you can take out any of your frustrations on him, if you’d like while Death says that he can always ‘lend a hand’ should you need it. You smile widely at their backs, glad that they’re so understanding.

[agentofscifi]

Super Genius Ch. 3

I march my way through the complex, ignoring the stares off all of the Avengers. My Dad is biting into a bagel as I stop next to him. He swallows quickly. “Happy Birthday Kiddo!”  

I feel my eye twitch. “Peter, Peni, Miles, Anya, and Gwen have all been bitten by radioactive spiders. MJ and Ned seem to be some sort of Superhero backup. Riri and Harley recreated your tech in garages. Are any of these kids normal?”  

My Dad flushes. “How’s you find out?”  

“Peter got surprised, jumped, landed on the ceiling and then stayed there! This is not normal!”  

My Dad opens and closes his mouth. “I can explain!”  

I raise an eyebrow. “Explain what? How every one of your new interns is either helping a superhero, is a superhero, or is on their way to being a Superhero? What is this, the Junior Avengers?”  

My Dad rolls his eyes. “I haven’t coined a name yet, and don’t you mean everyone but you?”  

I raise an eyebrow. “Maybe.” It didn’t matter as much now. My parents in France were told about me being Ladybug after I became the Guardian. The kids all already knew. Harley had looked in my bag for my charging cord last night only to find Tikki. This would be when Peter freaked out and got stuck on the ceiling. Giant talking bugs were not normal in New York, according to Peter. Either way, my superhero ID had already known to the rest of the kids.  

My Dad does a double take. “What does “maybe” mean?”  

I shrug. “Maybe means that I was given a pair of magical earrings with a tiny goddess that’s attached to them when I was 12 and that I’ve been fighting a magical terrorist for the past 3 years while in Paris.”  

Everyone is looking at me once again. My Father is blinking rapidly. “This is a joke, right?”  

Tikki suddenly pops up in the air next to me. “Hi, I’m Tikki! I’m the Ladybug Kawami.”  

A disheveled Clint looks up from his cup of coffee before slowly grabbing a newspaper and rolling it up. “Stark, don’t move. There’s a giant floating bug.”  

I reach forward and snatch the newspaper from his hand. “She’s a goddess.”  

Clint closes his eyes slowly. “So, no huge bug bites from the giant floating bug goddess?”  

I resist the urge to facepalm. “No, there won’t be any bug bites. Drink your coffee.” Clint nods and slowly starts to sip on his coffee again.  

My Dad clears his throat. “Magical terrorist?”  

“Who uses evil butterflies to possess people.”  

My Dad stares at me then looks to the ceiling. “FRIDAY? Is my daughter on drugs?”  

“No, Mr. Stark. Further research has turned up a few blogs and news articles speaking of Ladybug, Chat Noir, and several other heroes fighting a Hawkmoth and Mayura.”  

My Dad furrows his brow. “Is Paris on drugs?”  

I roll my eyes. “No, Dad. This is not the point. Are you, or are you not, starting some kind of Junior Justice League?”  

My father gives me a playful glare. “Mari, you know me. I’m just mentoring.”  

“So you are starting a Junior Justice League.” I throw my hands into the air. “You have got to be kidding me!”  

“Marinette!” My Dad is whining now, like a child.  

I roll my eyes and decide to skip out on the rest of my questions involving my Father’s collection of teenage superheroes. “Dinner with Pepper, Rodney, and Happy tonight?”  

He smiles. “Of course, at your favorite restaurant!”  

I peak him on the cheek. “Love you Dad!” I twist around on my heels and hit the button for the elevator.  

Sam blinks as I step into the elevator. Tikki waves at Sam, who hesitantly waves back. “What’s with the floating giant bug in the elevator?”  

“The tiny goddess attached to Tony’s kid’s earrings that she used to fight a magical terrorist in France that’s possessing people with butterflies.” Natasha leans back in her seat, sipping on a cup of coffee.  

Sam rubs his eyes and looks back at Tikki, who is still waving cheekily. “I’m going back to bed.”  

The elevator door closes as Sam turns back around to go to bed.  

A few seconds later I end up back in the Teen living room. Harley looks up as I walk back in. “So, are we the Junior Justice League?”  

“Yup. You guys ready for today?”  

Ned briefly throws his hands up in the air. “5 Days of Star Wars in less than 24 hours!”  

MJ rolls her eyes as she finishes up the shopping list. “It’s 7 days Ned. We need to sleep.”  

“Sleep is for the weak!” Peni sitting on top of her robot, her spider resting on her shoulder.  

Anya sighs and runs a hand over her face. “I cannot believe I am doing this.”  

My mouth splits wide open. “Doing what Anya? Adding an AI to the Avengers Tower, freeing ourselves of the Baby Monitors, and rebelling form the man upstairs.”  

Gwen looks over the back of the couch with a raised eyebrow. “Is the man your father?”  

“Yes and if he was in my shoes, he’d be doing the exact same thing.”  

Gwen shrugs. “Probably.”  

“I’m sorry!” Peter looks around at all of us. “Are we all just going to go with the tiny goddess living in our...apartment, the girl with magical earrings, and the terrorist in Paris with magical butterflies possessing people?”  

“Peter,” Miles looks up from the sketch book in his hand. “There's a wizard with a semi-sentiate cape living in New York. The tiny goddess makes more sense than the cape. The evil butterflies, I’ll give you that. That’s just weird.”  

I click my tongue. “Says the kid who developed invisibility after being bitten by a spider. That’s weird.”  

Miles holds his hands up. “Agree to disagree.” He reaches down and holds up his paper. It was done in colored pencil, but was drawn as if it was spray painted. It was a large yin-yang symbol, however, a spider sat in the Yin circle of the Yang side and the arc reactor symbol sat in the Yang circle of the Yin side. “What do you think?”  

“I think we need to add spray paint to the shopping list. We have our symbol of rebellion.”  

Harley shrugs again. “Or the symbol of our Junior Avengers?”  

Riri glares up at Harley. “Way to ruin the moment, country boy.”  

Back in Paris  

Lila’s POV  

Alya squeals as Miss. Bustier smiles before the collection of students. Technically, Lycée was out for the year, but after months of fundraising and paperwork, the Akuma Class of Lycée Françoise Dupont was attending the International Technology Showcase in Washington D.C. in 2 months. A sizable anonymous donation was sent to the school. I had already spun a story telling all of my sheep that Tony Stark sent the money so that we could see the Showcase in D.C.  

Max had already planned on attending the showcase this summer, as he was showing off a computer program of his. With the announcement that the school would be covering the rest of the trip, several other students in the class were considering adding their own inventions to the showcase. I would have to whip something up and then maybe I’d be able to catch the eye of someone at the showcase. Science wasn’t where I wanted to end up, but winning some award at a huge competition for a bunch of nerds would look great on my portfolio.  

I give a loud sigh. “This sounds great, but unfortunately, my designs went missing. I had this amazing idea that I worked out with Tony Stark. The equations and blueprints disappeared out of my bag on the last day of school.” 3, 2, 1, and!  

Alya gasps. “I bet it was Marinette, just like your laptop Lila!”  

“Did you ever go to the police, Lila?” Rose is giving me one of those obnoxious smiles.  

“I tried, but since I didn’t have any proof, they said they couldn’t do much. Marinette must have reset the tablet.” I give a few sniffs as the class tries to comfort me.  

“You know, I bet if we told Marinette’s parents they’d believe us!” Alya stands up from the benches just outside the school. “I bet they’ll force Marientte to give back Lila’s laptop.”  

A brief wave of shock rolls over me. That was something I hadn’t considered yet, turning Ms. Goodie-Tooshoe’s parents against her. The iPad idea might not work alone, but with all the other stories I had made up, I could probably convince them. “Well, if you think it’s the best thing to do.”  

The whole class makes their way over to the bakery, Alya at the lead. I let the class escort me over, as if I didn’t want to be bothering the two bakers.  

Alya slams open the front door, the bell’s ring catching the attention of the two people behind the register, as well as the woman attempting to order. Both of Marientte’s parents give the class smiles, however, they seem hesitant. “Hello kids,” Marinette’s mother waves to us. “I’ll be with you in a second.”  

Alya, instead, marches her way towards the counter and pushes the woman aside. “Mrs. Dupain-Cheng, we have something important to talk to you about!”  

Said woman’s smile falls instantly as the other woman rubs her side. I immediately knew this wouldn’t go to plan. I’d have to adapt to get things my way. “Alya, I’m with a customer. It will have to wait a few minutes.”  

Alya rolls her eyes. “This is more important. Where’s Marinette?”  

Mrs. Dupain-Cheng crosses her arms over her chest. “Marinette isn’t here. What is this all about?”  

“Mari’s been bullying Lila!” Alya points back to me and I give a small wave. “She’s stolen things from her, called her a liar, has sent mean texts, and just a few days ago, she took Lila’s iPad and some tech plans Lila worked out with Tony Stark.”  

Marinette’s parents share a look before her mother bursts out laughing. Alya rears back her head in shock and I can’t even hide my surprise. Mrs. Dupain-Cheng looks back at us. “Marinette didn’t steal any tech plans. She doesn’t need to.”  

Alya opens and closes her mouth a few times. “What! Of course she does! She’s a complete scatterbrain.”  

Mrs. Dupain-Cheng’s eyes darken. “My daughter skipped a year of school and still had the best grades in your class, hell, in your year. She managed to have these top grades while juggling her class’ work, class representative duties and all of your outrageous requests that were usual last minute and always free.”  

Several of my classmates are red or pale after those words. This was not going my way at all. I give Marinette’s mother a big smile. “Well, that’s what friends do, they help each other.”  

Mrs. Dupain-Cheng raises an eyebrow. “Right. I suppose this is why my daughter spent countless nights and hundreds of euros on fabrics for commission she was never paid for. Or, why Marinette was told she’d be babysitting three little kids for free while their older siblings went on dates with the money their parents gave them for babysitting. Or why she was told she was being selfish everytime she tried to ask for help.”  

I let my smile fall. This was not going to plan at all. “She stole things from Lila!” Alya has a look of disbelief on her face. “She stole important work. So what if Marinette’s a year ahead. Max still has way better grades than her. You’ll see next year when we restart classes.”   

Max’s chest puffs out in pride. I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes. Mrs. Dupain-Cheng just raises an eyebrow. “Go to the police then, if my daughter has stolen something. As for next year, Marinette graduated Lycée last week after years of working ahead. She’s attending MIT in the fall.”  

This could not be happening. Adrien looks at Marinette’s mother with shocked eyes. “Why didn’t she tell us?”  

At the same time Alya screams. “What!”  

The eyebrow is raised even high. “Because you told my daughter that you weren’t friends with her anymore. Now, you had barged into my shop, pushed a client, and rudely interrupted a sale. Please leave!”  

“But-”  

“Now!” The class scurried out the door, me along with them. Marinette’s mother looked truly angry.  

We all stand outside the shop, several of my sheep looking completely confused. Since when was Ms. Goodie-Goodie smart enough to graduate two years early?  

I huff and I slowly make my way up the staircase of the Dupain-Cheng home. I need something for this showcase and if Marientte is as smart as her mother says she is, then she’d have something. I managed to pick the lock of the bakery and make my way up to the attic that Marinette called a room.  

It was bare. That was the best way to describe the room. All of the walls were empty of decorations. The desk had nothing on it either. All that was left was the basic furniture and the sheets on the bed. I try all of the desk drawers and even under the bed, nothing. Then, I remember it the board Alya told me about. The schedule of Adrien’s that Marinette had kept.  

I rooted around at the edge of the bed until I found it. The edge of the board. Smiling, I pull it all the way down. It was several layers of plans on top of each other. There were details about several apps, some green projects and well as some super resistant fabric for firefighters. What really caught my eye was the equations and blue prints for a small device that would wirelessly charge any device in a 50 radius. I snap photos of all layers of plans. If I could get this stuff out there, I could make thousands, and all with the help of Marinette. The only issue would be if Marinette came after me for stealing her work. Who was I kidding, that wouldn’t be an issue. I’d just shed some tears and tell everyone about Marinette’s bullying. I had school records to back me up. It’s not like anyone would believe her if she said she did the work.  

New York City

Marinette’s POV

I click my tongue as a notification pops up on my phone. After Chloe had broken into my room I’d set up security cameras and motion sensor alerts in case anyone else tried something. A good idea seeing as Lila was currently picking at things in my room. I raise an eyebrow as she pulls down my chart and starts to take photos of my inventions on there.  

“Everything alright?” Riri stops at shoulder and looks over at the phone. “What is she doing?”  

“She is taking photos of my ideas. The coding for a few apps, blueprints for some green energy things, the information required for my super resistant firefighter fabric and an invention I got a patent back on last week. It goes on sale in a month with Stark Industries.”  

“Cool. How does she expect to get away with this?”   

“Didn’t you hear!” I pick up an overly fake fangirl tone of voice. “It’s Lila Rossi! She’s Ladybug’s best friend, she saved Jagged Stone’s kitten, she does all kinds of environmental charities with Prince Ali, she helps the Avengers and all while having arthritis, sprained ankles and wrists, and tinnitus that switches ears every few hours.”  

Peter stops in the middle of the living room, a look of complete confusion on his face. “I thought Jagged Stone had a crocodile?”  

“He does Peter.”  

“Since when does Tinnitus switch ears?” Peter is still confused.  

“Since she saved Jagged Stone’s cat from an airplane.”  

Harley snorts from the edge of the kitchen. “This sounds like fantasy.”  

I groan. “You’d think, but my class all believes her. Max made a freaking A.I robot, with emotions, but believes that a paper napkin could cut his eye. He wears glasses.”  

“What did Hawkmoth lower your class’ IQs or something?” Anya settles down into the nest we had made in the past hour.  

“A leading theory.”  

The phone rings with a facetime request. I hit the accept button and my father’s face pops up with a stack of papers in his hands. “What is this?”  

I raise an eyebrow. “You got our declaration of independence.”  

My father looks unimpressed. “What is this?”  

Riri is grinning next to me. “Our declaration of independence.”  

“What does that mean?” I can’t but laugh at the confused expression on my Dad’s face.   

Harley pops up on my other shoulder. “No baby monitoring protocols!”  

“Junk food all day!” Miles yells from his spot.  

“No bedtime!” Peni is cheering. Sometimes I forget how young she is.  

There’s laughing in the background from my father’s end. “Tony, are the kids beating you up?” I recognize Bucky’s voice in the background.  

My father ignores the comment. “How did you block FRIDAY?”  

“Simple, I added in my own AI. I left the backdoor open years ago.”  

“You have an AI?” My father’s face is torn between confusion and pride.  

“JADA. Junior Avengers Defying Adults.”  

“Mari!” My Dad is whining again.  

“You have 5-6 days to review our Declaration, we will be occupied during this time. We have a lawyer, for the record.”  

“Do I want to know what you’ll be doing?”  

“Star Wars marathon. All 12 movies, along with all 7 seasons of Clone Wars, the first season of the Bad Batch, all 4 seasons of Rebels, and the two seasons of The Mandalorian. If we don’t sleep, it’s roughly 7711 minutes of Star Wars, which is 128 hours and 31 minutes or 5 days and eight hours. So, when you see us again is entirely dependent on how long we can go without sleep.”  

“I worry about you sometimes.”  

“ I’ve got to go. Ned just put in the first film.”

“Just one question. What is on the floor behind you?”  

I looked over my shoulder at the nest that had been put together over the past hour. Riri was settling into her spot. “That’s 6 mattresses, 19 blankets, and about a dozen pillows.”  

“Why?”  

“Couches are boring.”  

“Ok, now I’m worried about all of you.”  

“Goodbye Dad!”

Before ~~~~~~ Next

[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

Let’s Hang Out - Silver

[Woooo Whumptober! I... uh I don’t have many but I have this one!! We’ll see, I guess.]

CW: noncon drugging, restraints, tiny whumpee, non-human whumpee, captivity/cage, escape attempt, non-con touch, wing whump

[Masterlist]

Silver woke with a start. Corwin was looming above his cage, smiling stupidly.

“What is your problem? Go away,” Silver yelled, closing his eyes and settling his head back on his arms. It was getting better, but he was supposed to be asleep during the day. But no, stupid giant Corwin had to come and wake him up and make him go to the awful game booth. No one had won last night, but a kid had gotten close and hit Silver in the stomach with the ring. His ribs still hurt, and he didn’t wanna get up.

“Come on little bug, let’s go.” Silver rolled his eyes and hissed back like a cat.

Corwin just laughed and opened the wire door. Silver bared his teeth, but it wasn’t even a threat after the man had started wearing leather gloves. That bothered Silver. It bothered him because they weren’t even work gloves, just soft leather riding gloves. He sulked, but allowed Corwin to pick him up.

Easier to tell himself that he allowed it rather than Corwin did it to him.

But today, Corwin didn’t leave the room. No, he turned and started for the work bench.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Silver asked, voice rising a little with anxiety. He scrambled uselessly at the gloved hand that held him, eyes widening. He looked up to see Corwin smirking.

“I like you. I think I’ll keep you around a little longer, up with me at the booth. Good little demonstration sprite to get people interested. So,” he explained as he opened a drawer and pulled out a spool of wire, “You’re going to be still while I work on this.”

Silver made a face of disgust, partially at the man’s words but also at the implication that he would be still for any amount of time ever. He bit and chewed on the leather, but it held firm. The man shook the hand that grasped the nitebright, dazing and confusing him. As Silver tried to get his bearings, the man plopped him down on the wooden tabletop.

“You’re gonna be still, because if you are, I’ll untape your wings.”

That got Silver’s attention. He shook his head to get rid of the last feelings of dizziness and snapped his attention up. Corwin laughed again, and Silver huffed. Oh, oh he didn’t want to. He wanted to bite the man so many times he would be nothing more than an itching, swelling ball of a human, but he needed his wings. He needed them bad. If he had them, he might be able to slip away.

It wasn’t a situation he wanted to be in, but he was already there.

“Fine,” he said as he crossed his arms. Corwin laughed, and it was the worst sound in the world. He was so tired of hearing it.

“Oh, you’re cute.”

Silver’s blood was boiling. He jumped up, temper raging.

“Shut up! Just shut up! What, you think I want to hear all of this? No! I don’t! I’m sick and tired of it, so just shut your stupid giant mouth and let me go!” Corwin just smiled down at him, and Silver shrieked wordlessly in fury. In a split-second decision, he ignored the impulse to fight and darted off to the left.

The work table was tall, but there was a bookshelf next to it. From there, he might be able to grab something to get him to the floor, then he could just hide under something or squeeze into a space too small for the human.

He didn’t even get to the end of the table before he was pinned to the wooden surface by a hand. He struggled and screamed, but it was too strong.

“What did I just say about staying still? Fine, let’s do this the easy way.”

Corwin grabbed him roughly, and Silver remembered once again that his ribs were still very much sore. He wheezed in the tight grip, dragging nails that barely scratched the leather’s surface.

He was dumped into another jar, relieved beyond words that it was empty. He was relieved, but still incredibly angry and frustrated. Before he could try and escape, something covered the opening. Silver clawed at the sides, knowing there was no point. He couldn’t claw through glass. He couldn’t bite it or break it or even scratch it. He screamed in rage, frustrated beyond words.

He pounded a tiny fist against the glass and noticed something. The glass was fogging. He looked around, confused, to see that there were gray tiny droplets forming on all sides. The air was different, too; it smelled sweeter.

The lid seemed to be the normal one with the little air holes, so he wiped a circle clear of condensation and looked to try and see. He couldn’t quite tell through the warping of the glass, but he could see some sort of tall canister and a hose that connected it to the jar.

A gas canister.

“What, what are you doing?! What is that!?” He screamed, breath coming faster and faster. No, idiot, don’t breathe faster, that’ll only make it worse. He tried to calm down, but the scent of peaches was all around him and he could feel it in his lungs. It wasn’t air. It was heavier than that. It made his body feel heavy, made his eyelids droop down and his knees begin to buckle.

Silver tried to find grip on the smooth glass once again, but when he fell to his knees there was no resistance against the surface. Even through his panic, his breathing was getting slower and his vision began to blur.

“No no nonononono,” he muttered, before he wasn’t able to keep his eyes open at all.

~

Silver woke up disoriented. He was laying on his stomach, nose pressed into the hardwood of the workbench. He groaned and sat up. He didn’t hurt, but he still felt off. He moved onto his hands and knees and heard a strange sound behind him.

He looked down and his stomach rolled.

Wire was coiled around his ankle; a little loose, but not even close to loose enough to slip off. It was soldered together to form a cuff, a length of delicate ball chain hanging down. The skin around it still felt warm and uncomfortable, but he didn’t think that he had been burned.

Corwin’s shadow loomed, and Silver balked.

“There you go, now you won’t be getting away. Now I- “

“What the hell did you do? You, you bastard! How is this ever supposed to come off!? This is stuck on me forever you absolute rat bastard!” Silver interrupted, lighting up as he worked himself into a rage. He stood and took a step towards the human, wings starting to raise to increase his size. He-

Wings??

Silver stopped his tirade abruptly and flexed his wings. They were free! He could open them and stretch them. The flood of relief overwhelmed his anger and he reached back to run his fingers across the thin membranes. As much as he hated to admit it, Corwin had done a good job wrapping them. Even with all the damage Silver had taken, his wings were in perfection condition.

Corwin laughed at how quickly he became distracted.

“Like I was saying, I untapped your wings. I would suggest not trying to fly right away. They’ll be a little weak, but I can help you strengthen them again.”

Silver’s head snapped up, face contorted with disdain and offence.

“Like hell you will! What, you think that I can’t take care of my own wings? Listen here bastard-“ His wings buzzed behind him with his emotions, and his breath caught. It was like his back had been stabbed, sharp pain coming directly through his chest. He gasped and tried to breathe through it. His eyes squeezed shut and he grit his teeth. Ow ow ow ow.

“See? You’ll sprain them that way. Just calm down and stretch them out slowly.”

The little sprite glared as Corwin reached down and picked him up. The chain was quite long, attached with a small lock on Corwin’s belt. He placed Silver on his shoulder, looking over at him with fondness.

It was enough to make Silver’s stomach roll again.

He scrambled and bit Corwin’s neck, trying to get as much venom in as he could. Corwin cursed and slapped at him, but Silver was able to get another bite in before Corwin grabbed the chain hanging off him and pulled.

Silver flew back and off Corwin’s shoulder, dangling upside down by one ankle. He shrieked and yelled and fought, but all that did was make him swing lightly, wings fluttering painfully behind him.

Wings free, but useless.

~

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