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not-me-simping-for-blasty · 3 years

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I Melt With You - Bakugou Katsuki

All Parts:

Part 10:

“Hey, Bakugou.” You greet easily, waving at him. “Can you believe it?”

“Jesus- what the hell are you on about now?”

“Nothing. Just, this marks the third time I’ve seen you without injury. Good on you buddy, setting a personal record and everything.”

He huffs, pushing off the wall. Bakugou is without his costume, clad in just normal sweats. The sight makes you feel a little bad- it was obviously his day off, but there he was working. Sacrificing his time for you.

“Fuck you.” He grumbles, without any bite. “Seriously. Fuck you.”

“C’mon, grumpy, don’t get so huffy.” You say playfully. “I was mostly joking, but I did mean it. I think I like you a whole lot better when there’s no blood involved.”

He starts to smile, just for a second, before he quickly evens his expression. It’s like he’s trying to hide the fact that it was there at all, quickly spinning around and starting off at a brisk pace.

“Woah, slow down, no need to run, speedy. I’ll take it back if you’re so allergic to me being nice.”

Bakugou doesn’t respond, but he does slow down. Just minutely. Hardly even at all if you really think about it, but hey, at least you’re not basically running after him anymore.

“What’s got you so cheery, hah?” He asks after a beat, making an intentional point not to make eye contact. “It’s late- you’re not tired again?”

His tone catches you off-guard, something accusatory underneath that has you scrunching your nose. You’re not exactly sure what he’s getting at, but you can read his prickly tone for what it is- Bakugou is making fun of you.

“No. I’m actually not tired, thank you very much.”

“That’s not what you were saying last night.”

“You know, that sentence from anyone else would offend me- but from you?” You scoff, squinting your eyes at him. “Well, I’m sure it was meant as an insult, not an insinutation; so I’ll refrain from calling you a pig. For now.”

“Call me anything and see where it gets ya, leech.”

“What’re you gonna do? Fight me?”

“Please, it wouldn’t be a fight.” He snorts, kicking at a rock in the road. It flies down the alley, all the way past the streetlamp’s glow. “See? I’d slaughter you.”

“Yes! Probably!" You say in faux exasperation. "But it’s because you have way more practice at slaughtering people! I don’t know why you’re bragging about that- that’s totally not something normal people brag about!”

You throw your hands up, gesturing wildly, and Bakugou just sort of watches you. Doesn’t really react other than to evade one of your errant hands. You just barely miss him, the tips of your fingers clipping the fabric of his sweatshirt.

“What- nothing? You’ve got nothing to say about that? Course you don’t- because you’re proud of slaughtering people. Is that it? Huh?”

“I’m proud of winning.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Close enough.” He shrugs. “'Sides, it’s not my fault I wasn’t listenin’. Ya said so many damn words to me.”

“That’s so rude! You-“

Seeing his smile, you cut yourself off half-way. It should hardly even count as a smile, really, it’s much more of a smirk- something entirely self-indulgent and dripping with arrogance. You’re not sure if you wanna punch him in the mouth or giggle.

“You jerk. You’re messing with me!” On impulse, you knock your shoulders into his. Bakugou doesn’t flinch- nor does he budge whatsoever. “You’re just being mean on purpose, aren’t you?”

“Course.”

“Why? Just, I don’t know, be nice?”

“Fuck that. No thanks.”

“You incredibly rude- you know that?”

“And you’re fuckin’ annoying.” He retorts, knocking his shoulders into yours. Bakugou smirks when you stumble. “See- I’d murder you in a fight.”

“No one was debating that!”

He just bites his lip, throwing his head back. It’s like Bakugou is trying to hide his smile; exposing the strong column of his throat to you, pale skin gone 10 shades of gold under the streetlamp.

It steals the breath from your lungs- how devastatingly beautiful he can be. You have to tear your eyes away.

“Hey, Bakugou, it’s your day off right?”

He eyes you a little strangely. “Yes? Why?”

“Geez- Don’t be so suspicious.” You laugh. “I only asked because I was curious.”

“The hell you have to be curious about?”

“Just what you’d be doing right now otherwise- you know, if you weren’t stuck walking me-“

“‘m not stuck. Wouldn’t do this if I didn’t need to.”

“Yeah, but still.” You take a breath. “What I mean, is that, I’m sorry if this is burdening you. I know this probably isn’t what you wanted to do on your day off.”

He eyes you, sniffing for a moment while he juts his chin out. “Eh- it’s fine. Walking this far outta my way is good excercise anywa-“

“This far? Oh my god- are you serious? Where do you live?”

“Far enough.”

“Bakugou.” You say sternly, staring him down. You’re well aware he’s not a man who’s easily scolded into revealing the truth, but damn if you weren’t going die trying. “Seriously- how far?”

“Fuck’s it matter to you for?”

“Because it just does! Now, c’mon really, I’m gonna feel like, super bad if you say you’ve gotta take a train her-“

“No train, so quit bitching.” He scans the street for a moment, before turning back to look at you. “Not that far. Half an hour, maybe, if I was running.”

“If you were running? What about walkin-“

“Not walking so it doesn’t matter.”

“It does!”

“It fuckin’ doesn’t-“

Then he’s standing ram-rod straight, slapping an open palm over your stomach and pushing you back. You’re flying back into the shadows, back slamming against the brick wall. Gasping, air knocked clean out of your lungs, it’s all you can do to keep your eyes open and watch him leave.

Bakugou hardly even looks back before he’s soaring past the end of the alley, explosions igniting under his palms. There’s no one, all is quiet, silent and tense and then- bam.

A mottled mass of muscles and pulsating flesh barrels through the building beside Bakugou. Debris rains down onto the street, down onto the exact spot you were standing moments ago. The flying detrius knocks Bakugou off course, and the blonde hardly dodges before the creature is slinging fists his way.

“Shouldn’t’a been makin’ such a scene!” Bakugou is all smirks and haughty confidence, seamlessly twisting and dodging the creature’s strikes. “Gave yourself away- I’ve got you now!”

Even breathless and winded, you can’t help but stare. Bakugou truly is something else- a terrifying bullet in the air, bordering on frenetic as he dodges. He’s so fast you’re worried he’ll catch fire. There’s a reckless sort of smile on his face, stretching his lips back around canines you’re sure are sharper than before. He’s throws his left palm out, explosion recoil throwing him just past the creature’s next attack. It’s enough of an opening for Bakugou to surge in, flashbang fingertips making contact with the beast’s abdomen.

“Really, that’s all?” He challenges, grinning like mad when the beast flies back from the impact. “No strategy at all? That’s not gonna fuckin’ work!”

And then he looks back at you, just for a singular moment, while the beast is bent over from his previous blow. The sight nearly knocks the air out of your lungs all over again.

Bakugou is terrifying. Manic and bloodthirsty and feverish almost, chest heaving with every labored breath. There’s something wild in his eyes, coloring his features in blood that hasn’t even been spilled yet. It’s intimidating and scary and overwhelming, but he’s dazzling too. A crazed smile, so blinding and brilliant, that it leaves an after-image long after he’s blasted away again.

Something snaps in you then, and you’re diving behind the nearest dumpster. It’s a little gross and cramped, but you hear plaster cracking around you, and suddenly it’s not so bad anymore. Your eyes are wide, watching the battle- and even when hidden it still feels too close.

Your heart is trapped in your throat, a battering ram even as you try to catch your breath. Everything is loud, and chaotic, and you’ve never been this close to a real battle before. It scares you. You clasp your hands around your ears, trying to block out the gargling and explosions. It’s not enough, your breath still picking up as explosion impact rattles the asphalt beneath your feet.

“You’re done!” You hear him shout, and suddenly the air goes white and hot, and bright.

You screw your eyes shut, and bite back a scream as an explosion rattles every surrounding window. The sound swallows everything, and the light show is even worse. Even through your eyelids it’s blazing. Bright enough to have you diving to the ground and tucking your head between your knees.

Then it’s quiet. Complete silence other than the ringing in your ears. You hear impact, a warbled groan, and then the sound of his voice.

“You fucker.” He roars. “I’m fuckin’ busy, you weak bitch, can’t ya fuckin’ see that?”

Another thud. Another groan.

“All this shit for some cash? Just get a job, you fuckin’ loser. Like the goddamn rest of us.”

You peak your head over the dumpster, and see Bakugou standing tall over the collapsed body. You’re not entirely sure how the villian’s quirk operates, but the mass of flesh is deflating by the second, leaving behind a skinny mess of bones and sinew.

“A front, hah? Pathetic.” Bakugou sneers, grinding his teeth before he snaps. “On your fuckin’ feet weakling- ‘m taking you in.”

Bakugou hauls the skinny man to his feet, trapping rail-thin arms tight to the man’s back. It’s only then that you choose to emerge, staggering slighty on your shaking legs. It’s like you’ve got tremors- your body practically bowled over by the sheer amount of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“H-help- I didn’t-“ The skinny man starts, before Bakugou is sending a knee into the base of his spine.

“Don’t speak to her, you shit-stain.” Bakugou curls his lip. “Shut the hell up.”

You’re not really sure what to do then- caught between wanting to high-tail it in the complete opposite direction, and surging towards Bakugou. Because, if you weren’t certain before, you definitely were now; Bakugou knew what he was doing. And if worst ever came to worst, he’d stay true to all his threats. Nobody was getting to you while he was around.

“Follow. C’mon.” Bakugou nods towards the end of the street. “Police station. You know where it is. Let’s get the hell to it already.”

You just start walking- almost on autopilot. There’s a weird fuzz settling in your brain, the adrenaline seeping and leaving nothing but exhaustion behind. It’s disorienting because you weren’t even part of the fight- Bakugou had shoved you back long before you could have ever been in any real danger.

You’re not sure how he knew- how he could have possibly predicted the villain coming through the wall, but even still, you’re gratetful. Because you’re not hurt, only frazzled where you would’ve been massacred without him there.

Bakugou waits for you to pass him by, and only once you’re a good few steps ahead, does he start shoving his prisoner forward. The walk is tense and silent, the only noise being the occasional pained groan from the skinny man. There’s an undeniable air of intimidation coming from Bakugou, rolling off his skin and permeating every spare inch of air. It only adds more stress to an already harrowing situation.

The police station lies just where you remembered it, but you’ve never been this close before. You’d only seen it down the end of the street as you passed by- only through the fuzzy haze of exhaustion after your shift ended. Now there’s nothing hazy about it- just a stark white building and big glass doors. Big glass doors that Bakugou is surging through, prisoner in tow, and ordering you to stay behind.

When he’s through the door, it’s like your heart finally starts to catch up. You can feel it’s thud slow against you ribs, no longer jumping at every slight sound. You eyelids feel heavy, further weighed down by the headache you feel coming on. You lean against the wall of the station, bending slightly at the waist as you ground the heels of your palm against your temple.

“All good?” You hear his voice some time later, Bakugou’s footsteps heavy as he approaches. “You get hurt?”

“No- ‘m fine.” You chew your cheek, straightening as you look up at him. “I think.”

He studies you for a moment, red eyes flitting across your face. Bakugou grimaces. “You’re shaking.”

“Yeah. Was scared.”

“It’s fine now.” He huffs, frustration lacing his features. Bakugou clenches his hand, releases, and repeats twice over before he speaks again. “Got ‘em already, so you can chill the hell out now. Alright?”

“Yeah- yeah sure.”

You try to agree, but your voice doesn’t sound right when it leaves your throat. It’s a little too hoarse, empty of almost all inflection. You’re not particularly pleased with it and Bakugou is even less so.

“You need a few minutes or something?” He pinches the bridge of his nose, like even asking the question pains him. “Need to call somebody?”

Bakugou looks incredibly uncomfortable- eyes shifting around wildly and refusing to settle. All of his battlefield-confidence, even that self-assured smirk seems to have disappeared entirely. He huffs a pained breath and leans back against the wall next to you. His shoulders are just barely touching yours, voice pinched and tense when he speaks.

“I know it’s loud- but it’s over now. Now you just go home, and you sleep. Nothing is gonna happen to you.” Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Bakugou tilts his head skyward. He grinds his teeth, once, twice, and smooths out his grimace. “And I’ll fuckin’ be there so don’t go spiraling about it, alright? You’re safe now.”

You nod, rolling your lips together for a moment. He’s not meeting your eyes, not even attempting to, but you can’t help but stare. Can’t help but track all the lines of his face; the way his nose slopes, and the set of his eyebrows. He doesn’t look like before. Not crazed, or manic, or brutal. He’s just Bakugou. Maybe a little grumpy, but mostly just uncomfortable- exactly the way you’ve come to know him.

Something in you settles at bit at that.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Let's go." You kick off the wall, putting one foot in front of the other. "I'm more than ready to be home."

Bakugou just watches you, and you can see him reach a hand out before immediately dropping it. His lip curls up in disgust- and that just confuses you. You wonder where the Bakugou from a few minutes ago went; the one who seemed so entirely sure of himself.

"Faster." He says, overtaking you in one long stride. "Stallin' around at night is never a good idea."

You suppose he's right, but you never would've believed him before.

Prior to tonight, you had never been a part of a villain attack. You hadn't even seen a villain on anything other than TV re-runs. Your neighborhood was quiet, the streets never holding any danger, even at night. Now, though, every shadow seems suspicious, every sound a precursor for something far worse. Your well aware you just got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time that night, but that didn't make the reality any easier to handle. If Bakugou hadn't been there, if he hadn't show up dead on your balcony months ago, then you would've been gravely injured by all that falling debris.

The thought makes you feel weak all over again. Has your fingers curling in your gloves- itchy and uncomfortable and helpless.

You're quiet as you walk, caught up in a million spiraling thoughts. Bakugou doesn't seem keen on conversation either, keeping a few paces ahead and scanning for other danger. Occasionally he'll turn back, check to make sure you're following, and all you can really offer is a nod and a shaky sort of smile. It doesn't satisfy him at all- you can see that every time he sets his jaw.

"Oi- Leech." He snaps in front of your eyes, waving his hand back and forth. "It's- stop lookin' like that already. All freaked the fuck out. You look ridiculous."

His haughty tone as your blood warming, fingers clenching at your sides as you walk. You're not sure what reaction he's after, but all you can really think to do is get angry.

"I am freaked out! You were there! You saw that guy! He was huge!" You snap, squinting your eyes and waving your hands around. "If you weren't- I- what am I supposed to do when that shit happens? Huh? I can't fight, and even if I could I wouldn't, so what am I supposed to-"

"Nothing." He interrupts. "You do nothing, and you hide. Like you did."

"Yes, because you pushed me! If you hadn't I would've been crushed by all that- and how on Earth did you even know he was coming?"

"Vibrations. In the ground." He squints at you, a little confused. "Did you not-"

"No!"

"Damn," He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. "You really couldn't feel that? Jesus, you really are clueless. No wonder you were so freaked out."

In that moment, you're a little sure you could strangle him. All his skill you'd seen earlier suddenly didn't matter at all, and you were sure you could take him down with nothing but rage alone.

He- vibrations? You didn't feel anything! You felt nothing and even if you had, you would've assumed it was an earthquake. No one except for him and his battle-addled brain would've ever assumed it was a villain of all things!

"Calm down," He seems to be fighting a smile, lip twitching up. "You look fuckin' ridiculous right now. 'm not scared of you, leech."

"You should be! I'm about to strangle you right now-"

"For what?"

"For- for- I don't know! You just make me so angry with your 'Oh, you didn't feel that?' bullshit!" You tilt your voice lower, coating it in gravel to mimic him. "Of course I didn't feel anything! I'm not like you- I don't have freaky super-human instincts and explosions and I can't just go fight somebody!"

True to his word, your outburst doesn't seem to scare him. If anything if seems to pull the smile from him more, lips pulling back into a grin even he has no chance of hiding.

"There she is." He stuffs his hands in his pockets, falling back a little to walk right beside you. "Thought you'd gone into shock or somethin'."

"So you- on purpose?"

"Said that shit about vibrations? Yeah." His smile turns wolfish, all sharp canines and pink gums. "There were no fuckin' vibrations, idiot. I heard the plaster cracking."

In that moment you're the surest you've ever been- you were going to murder Bakugou Katsuki.

"You dick!"

Your hands are out before you can stop them, shoving forcefully at his side. He just looks at you, rolling his eyes, and then decides to let you tip him sideways off the curb. It's the worst kind of victory- a pity one that he let you have.

"Chill out, already." He laughs. "Only said shit so you'd stop bein' all miserable. You should be fuckin' thankin' me."

"I'm not thanking you!"

He steps forward, one long stride eclipsing you entirely. Then he spins, facing you with another crooked grin, and you're digging your heels into the cement to avoid crashing directly into his chest.

"I said-" He starts, hands in his pockets and leaning forward until he's practically towering over you. "You should be thanking me."

His voice is low, sly and challenging as he grins. He looks positively predatory- but attractive too. The worst kind that leaves your heart stuttering in your chest for almost no discernable reason.

"G-get away from me." You fluster, taking a step back. "I'm not thanking you."

He shrugs, falling back to a safe distance. You don't miss it though- the way his grin goes just a little wider, entirely satisfied. He won, and he knows it.

"Suit yourself, then leech." He says, voice light. "If ya wanna mouth off so much, then 'm not fuckin' saving you next time."

He says the words, but you're almost entirely sure he doesn't mean them. Not with the way he is now- beaming and pleased under the moonlight. You wonder if he always gets like this; so happy just after a victory. It's the kind of sight that almost makes the entire ordeal worth it. Almost.

You walk through the doors of your apartment, shuddering a long sigh of relief. The walls feel safe, security and peace etched into familiar walls. Even with Bakugou stomping behind you, the serenity isn't disturbed all that much. He's still in his rare good mood apparently, and he doesn't even grumble whatsoever.

Truth be told, you're still a little shaken, but the interior of your apartment puts you at ease. Even if you don't feel nearly as infallible as before, home is a good feeling- it always is.

"You know- you know that you just got unlucky, right?" Bakugou seems to struggle for a moment, kicking the door shut behind him. "It's- that's- shit like that doesn't usually happen here."

You're not sure where his sentiment is headed, and he must see it on your face. He flares his nostrils, sighing something long-suffering and dramatic.

"I'm sayin'- that wasn't part of anything else. It was just the one idiot, so it's not any more dangerous here than it used to be. 'm sayin' don't waste your time worryin' about that shit."

Something in you warms a bit- just a fraction. You're not sure how he knew, how he always seems to know just what you're thinking, but at this moment you don't care to find out. There are some comforts better left experienced instead of studied- and you figure this might be one of them.

You smile, something soft and fond. "I take it back- I will thank you. So thank you. I'm sure I'd be a lot worse off if you weren't around."

You watch him fluster, watch him itch in his skin and shift his weight around. Eventually he settles on turning his back, moving towards your fridge as he speaks.

"Probably. You froze up completely- woulda been piss poor job performance to let you get killed." He's swinging the fridge door open, and the white light just makes it more apparent- his cheeks are pink. "Got ice packs in here somewhere?"

"I-Ice packs?"

"Yeah. Knuckles are gonna bruise up if I don't ice 'em."

You look a little closer then, at his fingers curled around the handle of your fridge. His knuckles are a little swollen, bruised up and red where the skin had split. It doesn't look too bad, much less serious than any other injury he'd come to you with, but that doesn't change the itching in your own fingers. You want to help him- now more than ever it seems.

"Shit- sorry." You breathe out, nearing a little to get a closer look. "I was so freaked I didn't even think about asking- are you okay? You're okay, right? Nothing else, no bones or blood or-"

"Calm down. 'm fine."

You look at him again, squinting for eyes for a moment. He just rolls his own, extending his arms out and flipping them. He was telling the truth- there's only one other scratch on him, and even that was already scabbed over. The only issue were his knuckles- and that sets you at ease.

"You want me to wrap them for you?" You ask, looking up at him. "Oh wait- actually, you'd probably want to do that yourself, huh? Since you're not on the brink of death this time and actual-"

"You do it."

"Huh?"

"I said- you do it." He won't meet your eyes, turning back to your fridge and opening it up once more. He makes himself right at home, grabbing one of the water bottles off the shelf without asking. "Did it all the other times, so you do it. Don't think you're gonna get away with cuttin' corners on me."

"I didn't mean it like that. I just meant, that I know you find it annoying when I'm all fussy so I just-"

"Shut up already. You continuing to run your mouth is the only thing that's annoying me right now."

You're about to retort, something offended and assuredly juvenile, but you decide against it. That night had been filled with far too much conflict for your liking, and you weren't about to incite more of it. If he wanted you to wrap his knuckles, then you'd wrap his knuckles. You figured it's the least you could do for him.

Turning your back on him, you start for the bathroom, and the first aid kit inside. A part of you considers just permanently moving the kit into the kitchen, but that sort of seems like you're just inviting more misfortune. You keep hoping that one day you'll stop having to patch Bakugou up at all, but from the looks of it, that isn't likely. Not even a little bit considering his obvious bloodlust.

"You wanna-" You start, walking back into the kitchen. You're shocked into stillness by the sight of him searching through your cupboards. "Um, what exactly are you doing?"

"Hungry."

"Okay, caveman, I just- you're not seriously trying to cook right now are you?" You near him, hands hovering in the air. You're sure he wouldn't appreciate it, but a large part of you just wants to grab at his shoulders and shove him away from everything. "Stop that- lemme get you fixed up first. Then I can call for something. I'm not gonna let you exert yourself any more than you already have."

Bakugou seems a little perturbed by that, whipping his head around until you can see wild red eyes. You almost sigh; what you wouldn't give for him to just chill out for once.

"I'm not saying you can't cook. You probably could, I don't know." You near a little more, dropping the first aid kit onto the countertop. "I'm saying, you've already done enough today, and you deserve to take it easy. So let me help you by wrapping your hands up. That's all."

Bakugou's in the midst of another internal struggle, before he visibly forgoes it. His shoulder's drop and the tension leaks until he's settling into one of your dining chairs. He sets his hands out on the table, clearing his throat at you until you kick into motion.

At this point, cleaning up his hands is practically a daily chore. You've gone through the motions more than enough times to be adjusted, but even still, his hands still freak you out a little. You'd never seen anyone who radiated so much heat- even just being next to him was like sitting in front of an open flame.

Your fingers are gentle, skidding over his hands with feather-light touches. He seems to slump in his chair, eventually just laying his head on the outstretched arm you weren't actively working on. He watches you closely the entire time though, red eyes burning holes into the side of your head.

"Do it again." He says. "Too loose. Do it again."

You're half-way through wrapping his right hand, only a small amount of bandage left. Not only would you have to do the bandage over entirely, but you'd have to unwrap it completely first.

"You always say that," You mutter, exasperation coloring your voice. "What makes it so much better the second time around, huh? I do it the exact same."

"It's just better. Takes longer."

You're not really sure what he means by that, and Bakugou doesn't look all that thrilled that he said the words at all. He jumps in his chair, cheeks gone pink as he digs his face into the skin of his arm. He's hiding.

It strikes you as even but odd, but you shrug off the strangeness all the same. You're getting far too used to his particular brand of bizarre.

"All better now?" You goad, patting the bandage after you've finished re-wrapping. "Everything feel nice and perfect for Prince Bakugou?"

He lifts his head. "You're not funny."

"You always say that too. But it's okay, I know one day you'll finally come around and appreciate me."

He just laughs under his breath, but he smiles too. Grins something tiny and small that he hides in his shoulder.

You start finishing up his other hand, and Bakugou doesn't say anything otherwise. He just sits, resting his head on his arm, and watching you intently. He's all calm and even breathing, chest rising and falling in perfect rhythm. You'd thought him adrenaline-crazed earlier, but it seemed he was coming off of that high rapidly. You could feel the exhaustion too- almost lulled by your movements just as much as he was.

You start gathering away all of your materials, and he doesn't even move. Just sits in perfect stillness at your table.

"I- I didn't accidentally touch you right? That's not why you're like that?" You ask, smothering a yawn. "Super exhausted, I mean."

He shakes his head. "Nah. Normal tired. Didn't fuck up this time, leech."

You don't have it in you to respond, hardly even rolling your eyes at his remark. His jabs don't hold much bite anymore- you begin to wonder if he's actually getting nicer or if you're just growing a ridiculous tolerance.

You brush off the thought, pushing away from your table and rising from the chair. "You still hungry?"

"Yeah. Wanna sleep first though so don't worry about it."

"Okay; well, I'm definitely going to so-"

"I said don't." He supplies evenly, finally sitting up in his seat. "It's fine. 'm not fuckin' starvin' or anything."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

His insistence sells you, but you're not sure if it's because you actually believe him or because you just want to. Either way, you figure it doesn't matter much in the end, not to the way your limbs are quickly bowing to exhaustion. You feel the fatigue settling in, and you'd like to blame that for your next actions.

"C'mon then, sleep time, I guess." You say.

Then you cross the kitchen, passing behind him, dropping your hand on his shoulder. You hardly let it sit, just running your thumb over his shirt once, twice, and then continuing on your way.

He takes several seconds to finally follow you into the living room. Enough to have you looking back in confusion, unable to understand why he looked so very stunted where he still sat.

"Jesus, you're annoying." He finally grumbles, rubbing at his eyes.

His steps are loud as he crosses the room, stopping just a few inches in front of you. He grabs at your arm, raising your wrist himself and plucking the glove off in one fluid grab. It if wasn't so sudden an action- so ridiculous and fast and borderline violent, you might have even been flustered.

As it was though, he just grabbed your wrist before you could really register it.

Familiar warmth floods your veins. The same burning, slow heat that makes it;s way through each vein and artery. You think maybe your knuckles ache a little bit too, but it's too hard to tell through your quickly increasing sleep fog.

Bakugou lets you go pretty quick, falling back on your couch in almost the same moment.

"Better?" You ask, mirth warming your words. "Had to do it yourself because I was taking too long?"

"No, 'cause you pissed me off."

"Doing what?"

"You know what you're fuckin' doing."

Then he's grabbing the blanket, settling it over himself gracelessly while he flops over. He's face-first into the cushions now, effectively ending the conversation in much the way he typically does- by refusing to engage entirely.

You just roll your eyes a litItle fondly, still not even beginning to understand.

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ooooo boy i am so sorry y'all for this late uPDATe,,, pls i usually update my fics way faster than this but sometimes life rlly just do be happenin lmaoooooo

n e wayz, ty for reading and supporting my work!! y'all are the absolute best i could ever ask for!!!

#bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou bnha #bakugou mha #bakugou x reader #bakugou fanfiction #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x self insert #bakugou x you #bakugou fic #bnha fic #mha fic #bakugou imagine

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wordynerdygurl · 4 years

Text

A Wonderful Christmastime

Author’s Note: Well Hello All! I hope that you’re all taking care of yourselves and staying well! My tag-list is open and you know I love the validation of reblogs, shares, tags and adds!! I have been working on a larger OC story which has kept my from my Loki writings, but I entered a challenge posted by @toomanystoriessolittletime for the Christmas holiday. If you aren’t following, please do as she’s got a great little Advent Calendar of seasonal stories for you! One a day through the month of December!

I chose a prompt based off of my least favorite Christmas song. Ever. Like in the history of humanity. Like, my family torture me with it because of how much I dislike it. This story is a chance to take a little lighthearted revenge on Sir Paul McCartney and also, hopefully, help you all enjoy a Wonderful Christmastime! Also, isn’t this gif the cutest thing in the world? My thanks to the OP and creator for it... it’s amazing and I love Christmas Loki!! Pairing: Female Reader x Loki

Summary: Everyone has a favorite holiday song... when Loki learns which one you dislike, he uses it to his advantage. Warnings: Christmas holiday mentions, SMUT, Oral (F receiving) and MF Sex, also, the over use of a certain song that makes me, personally, crazy!

This was it. That perfect moment when all of the holiday hustle was behind you. Nothing to buy, nothing to ship, nothing to wrap, nothing to bake. It was all over. You had made it through another Christmas Eve.

Your well decorated tree sat in the corner, presents tucked below for you and Loki in the morning. The frittata was resting in the fridge along with the two bottles of Prosecco you planned to have with brunch. Hell, it was the holidays, after all.

But that was for tomorrow.

Tonight you were relaxing after an afternoon of family Christmas fun. Nieces and nephews, piles of shredded paper, stacks of snacks and so much laughter your belly muscles were sore. And through it all Loki had been a champ! Holding your hand, rubbing the small of your back, pulling out your chair; Loki had put the other partners to shame. Whether he was telling bawdy but tasteful jokes to the men who drank cheap beer around the TV, sharing hair care tips with your sister’s oldest girl or whispering with your mom in the kitchen, he was always where he needed to be. For the first time in ages, you had been able to enjoy the day fully, and you knew Loki was the reason why. After getting home, trading your dress and boots for comfy shorts and a sweatshirt, you padded into the living room. Loki was there, sitting cross legged, digging through your bag of swag. He had put seasonal music on in the background while munching through a plate of Auntie’s sugar cookies, two well poured goblets of red wine waiting to be had at his side. God, he was good. “Is one of those for me?” You couldn’t help smiling. Loki, looking like a little kid, over excited and surrounded by all the trapping of Christmas just felt so precious. It took him a moment to reply as he was solely focused on the handmade puzzle box your mother had crafted for all the guys this year, “Hmm? Yes… one’s for you…” Kissing the top of his head, careful not to dislodge his Rudolf blinking antler headband, a gift to Loki from your youngest nephew, you moved towards the couch. Sipping from your glass of wine, snuggled under the softest chenille blanket your sister-in-law could find, you sighed contentedly. Victory over the holiday season felt amazing. Now all that was left on your to-do list was eating, drinking, and enjoying alone time with Loki until New Year’s. Suddenly exhausted, you felt the lovely warm drag of drowsiness and snuggled deeper into the sofa. Shuttering your tired eyes, you listened as Loki stood up, off to hunt up some more food, no doubt. Visions of sugarplums danced in your head as you started to succumb to a sweet slumber. That’s when you heard it.

“The moon is right, The spirit’s up, We’re here tonight and that’s enough…” Groaning, wide awake now, you sat up with a shout, “Loki?!” Like magic his raven head popped around the doorframe, his reindeer antlers askew, a candy cane hanging out of his mouth, “Yes?”

“Um… question: What are we listening to?” Stepping back into the living room, his new holiday flannel shirt open at the neck, Loki leaned over you, husking playfully, “Music. At least, that’s what I believe you Midgardians call it.” “Ha ha. Yes, I know it’s music, but this particular song?” You couldn’t keep the tartness from your tone as you pressed your nose into the handsome one on Loki’s face. Pausing, listening intently, Loki cocked his head to the side. Singing along, his bells jingling, “Simply having a Wonderful Christmastime!” “Ugh. That’s what I was afraid of!” Flinging a hand over your eyes, you grumbled, burrowing back into the cozy couch as a means of blocking out the obnoxious noise of the worst holiday song in the history of humanity. Making himself comfortable at your feet, pouring himself another glass of vino, “I like it. It’s simple. Direct. What are you doing? Me? I’m simply having a wonderful Christmastime!” From deep in the cushions, muffled but forceful, you pleaded, “Make it stop! Please!” “What for? It is still Christmastime, is it not? And we are enjoying a wonderful time, aren’t we?” Turning back to face him, a Scrooge-like scowl on your suddenly serious face, “I’ll do anything to get you to turn that off.” That got his attention, “Anything?” Sitting up quickly, you reached for your blanket only to feel Loki snatching it out of your grasp, “You said anything, darling.” Tugging on the plush fabric, practically pouting, “You’re not going to take my new fluffy blankie, are you?” “Oh no. That’s not nearly enough to stop me from playing my favorite Christmas carol.”

“It’s your favorite, now? Loki, you just heard it.” Waving your gripes away, pinning you under his arms and under your blanket, “I love it. It’s my favorite. You can’t mess with perfection.”

You wiggled, trying to free an arm or a hand, anything to help defend yourself from Loki’s soft, but effective attack, "Perfection? Loki, it's awful."

"I disagree. But…” Brushing a gentle kiss to your captive lips, making you melt into his warm touch, Loki made sure to keep you immobile. Unraveling under his ardent attention, you gave up fighting, focusing on Loki’s roving hands through the protective layer of your new throw.

Lost in his lips, you ignored the wretched recording still spinning, until sitting back with a sly smile Loki continued, “Regardless of my newly acquired antlers, I am a reasonable man. I'm willing to hear your side of things. Convince me, dove."

Looking up at him through your lashes, licking over your bottom lip that tasted of Loki's peppermint, it took you a moment to refocus on your argument. Sighing doggedly, “It’s just garbage. Too sweet, too synth-pop. It’s plastic. There’s no substance to it.”

At least Loki did you the service of considering your answer. He paused, listening to the offending tune, starting to hum along once more. “I don’t know. It sounds like church bells ringing. And I like when the kids start singing!”

“You couldn't. Those are two of the worst things about it! There’s not a single redeemable factor in it’s trite, super saccharine, four minute run time.” Agitated now and edging into anger, your voice kept rising, spurned on by the inability to get away from Loki’s plush prison, “Also, get off me!” “Can’t do it. But-” nuzzling into your neck, tasting along the tendon there, “-I can replay this song.” “That’s it!” Fury tinted your words as you tried harder than ever to break free of your fleece prison but Loki was brick heavy, unmovable, and impossibly giddy at your predicament. All things which only added fuel to your fire. Wriggling like mad, struggling to kick a foot free, you squirmed desperately for leverage. His response? A deep chuckle, “Is that all you’ve got, darling?” Laying those long, lanky bones on top of you, holding down the throw’s corners in a way that made fighting futile, Loki smirked at your distress, “I still don’t see why you hate it so much. It is a simple song because we’re simply having a wonderful Christmastime! It’s in the title after all.” With cheeks hot from exertion, fully frustrated and forced to listen to Paul McCartney’s bland holiday ballad start a second time, you nearly shrieked, "I hate it, Loki! Loathe it, really! The lyrics are basic, the keyboard is tinny, and Sir Paul is better than that!” “Is that all?” “No! It's even worse when someone else sings it, like those kids from Glee or an up and coming Country artist making their first holiday record!"

Beneath the blanket your chest rose and fell with bothered breaths. From rubbing against the couch your hair stuck up in odd angles and you could feel heat rising off your neck. How had you gone from almost asleep to a blanket related battle royale? Loki, taking advantage of your confinement, kissed your forehead sweetly, and the change in tactic caught you off guard. His lips grazed the tip of your nose as you huffed out a pout, eager to see where his mischief making would lead. Pressing his forehead to yours, that deep sonorous voice whispering lowly for your ears alone, "Not a compelling enough argument for me to turn it off, I'm afraid." And to your holiday horror the song in question started again. Grousing, "Don’t play it again! Please! I’m begging you!” “Already begging darling?” Thick with mocking, Loki slotted himself between your thighs, keeping you from fighting back with any power. Whining full out now, poking out your bottom lip, “Come on! Please, let me up and turn this off!” “Why, of course, my pearl.” With no effort on his part, Loki scooped you up, blankie and all, pulling you tightly to his chest. Gripping your bottom, his fingers firm through the cotton of your pj pants, he squeezed hard enough for you to yelp. “Hey!” But that’s all you managed before his talented tongue invaded your mouth. Now the only thing you could hear was the shaky exhale of your shared sighs and your own needy mewls when Loki started to withdraw.

Godly hands drew your thick and comfy sweatshirt over your head, leaving you bare against the cuddly softness of your new blanket, a perfect dichotomy to the heated hardness of Loki’s chest. With your arms finally free you tangled your hands in the long tresses of your lover, distracted from the awful music by his groan, “Easy darling.” But now that the tables were tipped in your favor, you had no intention of going easy on Loki. Not after his antics tonight, not a chance. Tugging hard enough for him to wince, you ground against his lap with a nip to his neck, “Turn it off then.”

“Now, why would I do that? Aren’t we still enjoying a Wonderful Christmastime?” Bouncing in his lap, purposefully teasing your mischief maker with a smirk, “We were until you let this terrible song play!” Laughing heartily, Loki stroked over your bare shoulder, one hand resting on your waist and the other cupping your cheek. “If I wanted to, my darling, I could change your mind. I could make you adore this song.” “Is that so, Odinson? I doubt it.”

“Doubt me? On this, Christmas Eve! When you know the feelin’s here that only comes once a year?” A confident nod was all he got for an answer. In a flash you were laying on the soft rug, your legs wrapped over Loki’s and your new blanket tossed to the side. Fiery kisses to your chest and neck led him to the shell of your ear where he hummed hungrily, “The moon is right, the spirits up…” Enjoying his mouth but not his music, you shoved against his shoulders, panting, “Don’t sing, just kiss me.” Licking into your mouth, Loki’s tongue obliged your need as his hands skated over the curve of your hip, breaking your kiss to croon, “We’re here tonight, dove… and that’s enough.”

“Loki… please stop…” You fisted his shirt, pulling at the buttons until his muscular torso was under your fingers, strong and solid. Pushing the plaid cotton off his shoulders, you let your nails drag over Loki’s naked back as you shifted your hips, subtlety be damned. He took the hint. Nipping a trail over your tummy, Loki kept his eyes on yours as he shucked your shorts, snorting, “No panties? Naughty!” “If that’s naughty, Loki, then what you’re doing to me is positively evil.” That made your lover grin, his eyebrows lifting in a wickedly Grinchy smile before caressing the inner skin of your thigh with his clever mouth. Slithering closer to your center, sweeping his tongue in swirls, you couldn’t help the excited shiver he created. It was enough to block out the terrible song now that you had something more arousing to hold your attention. Using those long, deft fingers, Loki parted your folds with a murmured moan, “You’re so wet, darling. Maybe you like this song more than you let on?” A curse for him and his rotten taste in Christmas music died in your throat as Loki connected to your sacred skin through a carnal kiss. Those strong forearms ensured that your knees stayed open wide as his tongue tasted, teasing your clenching cleft, humming with appreciation at your body’s response. Circling your clit, sucking gently before changing direction and licking your lower lips once more, Loki had you teetering on the cliff of climax in minutes.

Your stomach tensed, ready for release. Delicious waves of orgasmic bliss were pulsing through you, needing just a touch more friction, a little more pressure in order to crash over you. Gasping out incoherent whimpers, fingers ruffling Loki’s dark hair, you can’t fight the neediness that he’s created in you. It just feels so incredible, something Loki knows you’re enjoying, “Like that, darling?” Passion clouds your vision as your desire crests, unfulfilled, “You know I do, Loki…” Fingers slide sensually through your slit, his bright eyes on you, “How much? How much do you like it?” Shaking your head, still foggy with needs unmet, “So much, baby. I love making love to you so much.” Bumping against your swollen bud, pressing down firmly, Loki begins using his hands to entice you towards ecstasy. Two fingers enter you easily, delightful, sure, but not as filling as Loki’s hard member. Reaching for him, you want to lose yourself in loving and being loved by your space god, “Sing for me, dove.” Beseeching you breathlessly, Loki’s hand stills, keeping you at the fringe of falling apart. Waiting for your reply impatiently he asks again, “Sing, please.” “A song?” His reply is a shake of his dark head. Slowly, smoothly, Loki withdraws his fingers, only to press them into your yielding flesh once more, “Yes, my darling. Sing my favorite song!”

Sucking a bruise onto your inner thigh, those fingers of his spreading your walls, the exquisite pressure on your straining clitoris. Any one of these distractions would have been hard to concentrate through. Experiencing them all together? Overwhelming.

And that’s the excuse you would use to explain what happened next. “The party’s on… The feeling’s here…” As soon as the words left your lips, Loki’s attention resumed in earnest, “That’s it, dove! Keep going!” “That only comes, this time of year… Ah! Loki!” Loki watched you lustily. Your eyes half closed, legs splayed lewdly, a nervous grin on your face. He never wanted you more. Slipping out of his jeans, wasting no time, Loki guided his hardened cock into you with a satisfying sigh. Your response to his abundance? “Oh shit, Loki! Yes!” Snapping his hips against your pelvis, iron banded arms clinging to you, Loki stuttered, “I don’t hear you singing!” “We’re simply having a Wonderful Christmastime!” How many times did you repeat the chorus? Hard to say. It became a mantra. A thing to chant in time with everyone of Loki’s deliberate and deep thrusts. This time, when you felt the familiar stirring of your satisfaction, Loki didn’t stop you. Encouraging you with a soulful kiss, his stroke surging in time with Paul McCartney’s crooning, you came apart in each other’s arms with a smile. The song started again and you couldn’t stop the giggles from bursting out of you, “What’s so funny, dove?” “You said you could make me like this terrible, horrible, awful song.” Sitting up and taking you with him, Loki chuckled as he kissed your hand, “Hey, don’t make fun of the best holiday song I have ever heard.” Pulling your new blanket around the both of you, “I still hate it, but-”

“But?”, his eyebrow arched in surprise, waiting for you to continue.

“But I don’t hate it as much.” Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, playfully ribbing you, “Do I have to force you into having another Wonderful Christmastime?” Biting your bottom lip, you returned the favor by sweeping a stray lock of Loki’s black hair over his shoulder, “Babe, you could make crazy, insane love to me each day and every night… and-” “And?” Kissing Loki lightly on the nose, you stood up on shaky legs and started towards the hallway. At the entry way you turned back letting the blanket fall to the floor, “-And Wonderful Christmastime would still suck.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To My Many Minxes: @toomanystoriessolittletime @vodka-and-some-sass @just-random-obsessions @brokenthelovely @lots-of-loki @thefallenbibliophilequote @scrumptious-finicky-illusion @iamverity @mizfit2 @sammy-jo1977 @wolfsmom1 @jessiejunebug @iluvsumbucky @unadulteratedwizardlove @procrastinatinglikeabitch @shxdowofdarkness @nonsensicalobsessions @ahintofkiwistrawberry @alexakeyloveloki @rorybutnotgilmore @crystalizedcaramel @lokislittlecorner @capcapcapsicle @jamielea81 @caffiend-queen @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @jenjen8675309 @that-one-person @roguewraith

#stephschristmaswritingchallenge #loki x you #loki x reader #loki smut #loki holiday #loki christmas #loki christmas smut #marvel smut #marvel holiday #marvel holiday smut

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harpyloon · 3 years

Text

little red

Pairing: Harry Potter x Ginny Weasley (BUT this is more of a Ginny Weasley and Sirius Black friendship HC if you will)

Summary: “Excuse me, but I care what happens to Sirius as much as you do!” said Ginny, her jaw set so that her resemblance to Fred and George was suddenly striking. - Chapter 33: Fight and Flight (Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix)

Warnings: Small battle scene, minor mentions of blood and injuries, small mentions of death... I think that’s about it? Mostly fluff and humor.

Word Count: 6.8k+ (oops)

A/N: hello! This is my first time posting an HP fic here so I hope you'll be kind! This idea has been an itch in my brain I've been wanting to scratch ever since I re-read OOTP. It's mostly canon apart from the ending (y'all know what ending I'm talking about lol). Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

Order of the Phoenix missing moments

Read on AO3

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Sirius always knew. He thinks he's known from the very beginning, but even more so when he chanced upon her creeping down the rickety stairs of Grimmauld Place—clutching a hand full of round mud brown pellets that looked all too familiar—with a mischievous glint in her eyes and lips pursed in strict concentration. With as little noise as she could possibly yield, she made it to the bottom of the second landing, eyeing the offending door with the equally offending Silencing Charms casted to muffle whatever it was the "children" were not allowed to hear.

Leaning over the bannister to get a good view of her target, her fiery red mane tumbled over one shoulder like a curtain, concealing half of her determined face from Sirius who was gazing up at the show with amusement; he was suddenly in no hurry to get back to the meeting that was getting fouler by the day. Although the sounds were muffled, he knew exactly how riled up everyone was behind that door, the very reason he had to step out in the first place.

Fighting in the first war, Sirius knew that every moment for members of the Order of the Phoenix was as good as their last. "We might as well seal our deaths," James's voice echoed through his thoughts at the distant memory of him and his friends officially joining the Order that one bleak winter evening. He could still feel Lily's grip on both his and James's hands as she sat between the two, not once glancing at anyone as Dumbledore spelled out every possible danger being a member of the Order would entail.

"Might as well," Lily breathed out and looked at Dumbledore straight in the eye, "Count us in."

Dumbledore didn't need to look at the rest of the gentleman for approval. Lily might have been James's woman, but whatever Lily Evans said the Marauders always followed.

Almost always.

"Ah, crud."

Sirius is yanked back into the dreary hall of Grimmauld Place, just as a putrid ball of manure bounces off the charmed kitchen door and zooms past the cobwebby chandelier, straight for his startled face. Times like these made Sirius truly grateful for his canine instincts, as he stepped aside just in the nick of time.

The mud brown ball splattered onto a worn-out tapestry, right beside the large troll’s leg umbrella stand.

"Oops."

He glanced back up at Ginny Weasley who was grinning sheepishly down at him from the second landing, "Sorry, Sirius."

"Good aim," said Sirius, winking up at her, "Although I believe your mother has the door Imperturbed, little red."

Ginny scrunched up her nose and it reminded him too much of another red head he knew, "That's no good. Well if Dungbombs won’t work then it's a long shot for Fred and George's Extendable Ears."

Sirius quirked an eyebrow, "Extendable Ears?"

Ginny waved a hand, "Eavesdropping contraptions they made up over the summer—" she stopped short and eyed Sirius warily, "Will you tell? Because if mum finds out, you didn't hear it from me."

Sirius grinned. As if anyone would expect Sirius Black, 1/4 of the Marauders, to ever tattle about anyone's mischief. "Bound me by oath, I shall tell no living soul."

Ginny sighed in relief and tucked her hair behind her ears, leaning over the bannister even further. If Sirius didn't catch the tips of her shoes hooked through the railing, he'd be afraid she'd fall flat on her face.

"What are you doing out here?" she inquired curiously, "That door may be Imperturbed but I'm almost positive I heard yelling."

"Precisely why I'm not in there," he sighed and glanced at the kitchen door. He didn't feel like going back inside the chaos at all.

"Really?" Ginny looked even more interested than she was a minute ago. "Don't tell me it's boring?"

Sirius nearly scoffed, "No, little red. Quite the contrary. But being in a room discussing plans for a war you cannot participate in can get quite stale."

He grimaced at his own tone. Sirius wanted to stop feeling sorry for himself, truly and largely through with all the pitiful stares Remus kept sending his way (although discreet) every time Dumbledore so much as shrugged off his requests at lending a hand (or paw) to anything the Order might need. He knew he was being overbearing, which was the last thing he wanted to make anybody feel with his presence. Although being stuck in his wicked mother's house filled with nothing but forbidding memories did no good to his sanity or his morals. He glanced back up at Ginny who was chewing on her bottom lip, deep in thought.

"Anyway, little red, up you go before your mother finds ou—"

"Wanna play Quidditch?"

Sirius blinked.

"Quidditch?"

"I need to practice."

"Trying out for the team are you?" he asked.

Ginny shrugged, "I think Ron wants to have a go, but he's always been Keeper. Just staying on my toes in case Angelina needs a new Chaser this year."

"Chaser, eh?" said Sirius smiling. "Was Keeper myself back in the old days. James, however, was—"

"Chaser, I know. I also knew you were Keeper," said Ginny impatiently. "So do you want to play?"

Sirius peered curiously up at her once again. He wasn't sure even his own godson knew of his Quidditch history. "How did you know I was Keeper?"

Now Ginny had the nerve to look shameful.

"I've been walking past the Trophy room on the third floor to all my classes since first year," she blushed, "Charms was always fun. Professor Flitwick never really minded if I took too long in the loo."

Her embarrassment ebbed when she saw Sirius's proud grin.

"Anyway, all the Gryffindor teams over the years are listed on the Quidditch board," she said.

"And you have them memorized?"

She ignored him. "So? Will you help me practice? Or were you no good?"

Her eyes held a glint of a challenge and was filled with outpouring mischief Sirius hadn't felt in years.

Dreadful meeting forgotten, he asked, "And where do you propose we are to practice? I've played quite a few years to know we need more than a grimy hallway to fly, little red."

Ginny's eyes were filled with mirth, "I know just the place."

----—-----

Ginny Weasley was a fantastic flyer. Her small but built frame made her agile and quick enough to score a couple (more than a couple) past Sirius, who, admittedly, was rusty on a broom, but could neither deny the fact that the girl was akin to a zapping ball of flame, whizzing past him zealously.

The small alcove behind Grimmauld Place (that Sirius previously remembered to be a dump for old furniture the Black family disposed of ) was cleared and mowed into a backyard of sorts; although the grass was a dying shade of brown, weeds scattered the soil, and the lone shrub by the fence seemed to be in its last breath.

"Mum had Bill and I clear it out just in case the kitchen got too full," explained Ginny. "But nobody's used it yet, and we've still got room. Mad Eye had the surroundings Disillusioned so we can fly as high as the attic."

Sirius spent the next couple of weeks training with Ginny on a Comet Two Sixty they borrowed from Tonks. It was the highlight of his days, superbly scheduled right after Order meetings. An angry Sirius coming out of the kitchens to practice was something Ginny looked forward to (and often hoped, although she'd never admit), only because he wouldn't have the mind to hold out on blocking her Quaffles— almost saving every attempt she had at a perfect goal. There were days when the twins and Ron would come out for a match, three-on-two, and Sirius would give Ron tips on how to Keep.

“You’re fast,” he told Ginny at one point, trying to catch his breath after her third goal of the day; the Quaffle zoomed behind his broom and into the makeshift goal post after her clever diversion of swerving around his front. She raised her eyebrows at him as if to say Duh. He rolled his eyes.

“Have you ever considered Seeking?” he inquired.

“Seeking?” she frowned. “Nope. Never. Besides, that position’s not up in the air anytime soon anyway.”

The perpetual loneliness was in no hurry to crawl back into Sirius's mind. Out of all the members of the Order (children included), it was Ginny Weasley (apart from his godson) who made him feel the most welcomed into the world once again; treated humanely, and not some fugitive on the run. She even managed to find the time to occasionally rally him with a game of Exploding Snap.

One particular night that summer, Molly walked in the living room carrying a tray of sandwiches which she set down beside the two.

"Would you know where the extra sheets are, Sirius?" asked Molly, "I need to prepare Harry's bed for tomorrow."

Sirius doesn't miss the way Ginny paused the slightest, then carried on with playing a card down. He swiftly taps the top card with his wand, his opponent only seconds behind. He grins at her cheekily. She missed.

"That point was mine thank you— Ah yes, Molly, of course. I'll have Kreacher bring the sheets up to Ron and Harry's room."

"Harry's arriving, mum?" asked Ginny behind her cards, seeming as though she was deciding which one to play next.

But Sirius could register her unfocused eyes.

"Mad Eye and the rest are leaving at dusk tomorrow. You best tell Hermione and Ron as well. Like twitching worms those two are, can't stop asking when Harry'll be arriving," Molly sighs wistfully, "My poor boy."

Although he hadn't been in the best moods with Molly these days, Sirius couldn't help but grasp her hand to give it a light squeeze.

"No need to worry, Molly. You know Mad Eye. He'll be very thorough."

"Oh, I suppose you're right," said Molly, squeezing Sirius's hand back and reached out to rake her fingers through her daughter's hair.

"Not tired yet, Ginerva? You spent the whole afternoon flying," she looked back at Sirius reproachingly.

He merely shrugged with a small smile.

"I'll sleep when I beat him," said Ginny, finally looking up from her cards.

"Fat chance, Weasley," said Sirius.

Molly sighed tiredly. "Oh why do I even bother," she grumbled as she gathered the empty mugs on the coffee table and walked back into the kitchen.

"Love you, mum!" Ginny yelled after her mother as she grabbed a sandwich on the tray and started nibbling.

"You haven't drawn," she said with a frown.

Looking from the cards piled on the floor and back to the ones she held, "It's your turn. Go draw."

But Sirius didn't draw.

He gazed at his cards instead, as if concentrating hard.

"So," he spoke casually, "my godson will finally be gracing us with his presence. About time."

Ginny didn't answer.

He looked up from his cards to see her shuffling with her own, mumbling to herself.

"I suppose you two are friends?" he asked.

"Hmm? Oh yeah— er — well, sort of..." she trailed off, clearly having no intention to confirm nor deny.

Sirius waited two beats before realizing she wasn't going to elaborate, "Sort of?" He never really saw much of Ginny around the trio while he tailed them restlessly in dog form through Harry's third year.

"Aren't you going to draw?" she snapped irritably, making a show of how annoyed she was that he was interrupting their game.

"Are you?" he spoke slowly, "Friends with my godson?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I heard you the first time."

"But you haven't answered."

"I have! I said yes!"

"Actually, you said 'sort of'."

"Well, I meant 'yes'!" Ginny huffed indignantly, her ears were turning pink. "Are we still playing or not?"

"Fred said you never talked around him," he said casually.

At this remark, blood swiftly rushed to her cheeks and her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Did he now?"

Sirius no longer bothered to hide his grin.

"George said you fancy him even."

Ginny was so red, her freckles were more prominent than ever before. She seemed to be debating whether or not to abandon their game and flee to the safety of her room, or abandon their game to run off and hex her tattle tale twin brothers.

"For your information," she finally spoke, swallowing a lump in her throat before proceeding, "I used to fancy him a little bit. Not anymore, not for a very long time now actually."

“Oh?”

“Over him. Done. Moved on.”

A pair of cards exploded between them, emitting red and orange sparks.

“You’ve done it now,” groaned Ginny. She glanced up at Sirius whom she saw was smiling knowingly at her, his cards abandoned.

“You know what?” she said, “I’m going to bed. Good night, Sirius.”

“Oh come on,” he laughed as she gathered the cards and neatly put them away in a box, “Is Harry that bad? Can’t be as bad as James can he? That git never had the balls to man up to Lily until our 7th yea—"

“I’m seeing someone,” Ginny announced suddenly, which shut Sirius up quickly.

“Seeing someone?” he blinked up at her as she stood from the carpeted floor where they sat and began to gather the cushions around her.

“Yes. Michael Corner. He’s in Ron and Harry’s year, but in Ravenclaw. He's cute. We met at the Yule Ball and been writing at the start summer,” she had a small smile as she mentioned their exchange of letters, as if she had a nice little secret tucked inside her pocket.

Sirius’s brain, however, seemed to have stopped working.

Michael Corner?

His godson was losing a battle to a boy who did his homework? And who maybe even enjoyed it?

"Although I haven't heard from him since we moved here. Can't owl to him now either," she said with a frown, as if she didn't like the thought. "Maybe I should ask Dad to check if I've got post at the Burrow..."

Sirius's head continued to spin at the outrageous thought, but he looked at Ginny calmly.

“Yule Ball, eh? A dancing chap then,” he swallowed the profanities doing somersaults in his brain. “So, a Ravenclaw...”

Ginny eyed him warily, “That’s right.”

He forced an excited grin, “Splendid! Does he play Quidditch? Bet we can invite him over sometime.”

Impossible, Sirius thought. First of all, he was still a fugitive. He reckoned Michael Corner wouldn’t want to be tossing Quaffles with a man who escaped Azkaban; and second, wanted or not, he didn't think he’d ever let Harry get away with letting a girl like Ginny escape from his fingers. He didn’t let James cower away, he sure won’t let Harry either.

He heard her sigh and focused on keeping his face devoid of any inner turmoil.

“He doesn’t play Quidditch," said Ginny.

DOESN’T PLAY QUIDDI—

“Doesn’t play Quidditch?” Sirius raised an eyebrow, keeping his tone neutral. “Interesting.”

What’s she going to do with a bloke who doesn’t play bloody Quidditc—

“So what does he do?” he clears his throat, “in his spare time? Any hobbies?” He seriously should consider an acting career once his name got cleared.

Wrapping the quilt she was sitting on around her shoulders and balancing the tray of sandwiches her mother left on her hip, Ginny pursed her lips at Sirius and huffed, “Nothing that would concern you, Mr. Sirius Black. After all, what other hobbies did you have back in the old days? Other than stirring up trouble?”

She gathered the trail of her quilt with her spare hand and started walking towards the stairs, up to the bedrooms.

“Oh, come on, little red!” said Sirius exasperatedly, “What did I say? Tell me more about Michael Corner! What does he do? What sort of lot does he hang out with?”

He blanched at a sudden thought, gaping at her retreating back in horror.

“Michael Corner doesn’t hang out with Madam Pince does he?”

Ginny trudges up the stairs and doesn’t look back, but her steps progressed louder and heavier.

“If you stop saying his name like that, maybe I’ll think about answering your questions!” she growled and was out of sight.

----—----

Dear Padfoot,

You were right! I did get Seeker! But only because Harry received a lifetime Quidditch ban from Umbridge. I’m sure you’ve heard. That old hag. Fred and George got banned too. I wasn’t supposed to tryout till next year, but Angelina was desperate. You should’ve seen her face. Nearly close to tears every time I see her at breakfast.

I’m sorry you can’t floo anymore. I kept everyone out of the common room the last time. Pavarti left her Herbology homework by the fire but I convinced her to pick it up in the morning instead. I also told the Creeveys that the house elves were cleaning out the common room that night. Nobody wanted to bother them and welcome a bad breakfast. I hope you got to talk to Harry enough. If that old toad didn’t barge in, I’m sure he would’ve told you more about the D.A.

He’s a really good teacher Harry. REALLY good. He reminds me a lot of Remus, the way he teaches. Did you know he can produce a corporeal Patronus? I’ve known of course, from Ron, but seeing it up close was bloody brilliant. You’d be proud. Especially since his Patronus is a stag. Didn’t you say his dad was Prongs?

He’s also seeing this girl, Cho Chang. She’s nice. Very pretty. A Ravenclaw. She plays Quidditch as well. I guess we both have a thing for Ravenclaws? She always cries though, I’ve noticed. It must be hard for her, dealing with Cedric’s death. They were a thing before he died you see. I hope she doesn’t make Harry too sad at least. He’s been looking a lot gloomy these days. Always BROODING. And don’t get me started on his temper.

Anyway, this will likely be my last letter before Christmas. They don’t bother monitoring my owls as much as they do Harry, Ron, and Hermione’s, but it’d be best if you didn’t write back till after the holidays. Hopefully I see you for Christmas. I’ve already got you a present.

Don’t go sulking around too much!

With love,

Ginny

----—----

Never in her life has Ginny ever seen Harry Potter as broken and desolate as he was now, right before her eyes. That is to say she's seen quite a bit of his dismal days. But it was nothing like this. Although, of course, she knew she couldn't feel the extent of his pain, but pain she still felt; the hollow ache in her chest reverberated, first through her arms, paving way for gooseflesh to rise up to the very tips of her fingers, then down her legs and she felt her knees wobble desperately, as if they were telling her, We can carry you no longer.

With her sprained ankle and failing knees, she gripped the bed post nearest her so tightly it croaked beneath her weight. She watched as Harry did his very best to stand back helplessly and watch the healers fuss around Sirius's frail and pale body, casting stabilizing charms and fixing various droughts by the bed where he lay in the Hogwarts hospital wing.

It almost hit him.

Ginny whimpered at the memory of waking to Sirius's barking voice echo through the Department of Mysteries. Despite her busted ankle, she dragged herself up and registered Luna and Hermione passed out cold, while Ron struggled through the binding tentacles of thought wheeling out of the brain that held him captive. Neville and Harry were nowhere to be found.

"RON!" she yelled at her brother, who seemed to have finally snapped out of the laughing jinx he was in. "Hold still—"

"I HATE BRAINS!" screamed Ron. He managed to have pierced a tentacle with the tip of his wand and the bindings around his torso pulsated, as if the brain yelped in pain although no sound came out.

"GINNY, NOW!"

"Diffindo!"

The brain's tentacles weren't severed as Ginny would have hoped, but it weakened its hold on Ron most definitely that he succeeded in wiggling his way out.

"I've got it," mumbled Ron when she bent down to reach for him, "It might get you too." He finally kicked the tentacles of thought away and it trembled furiously on the cold floor, flashes of memories fluctuating.

Both siblings were panting heavily as they paused to catch their breaths. Ron's right knee jutted out in an odd angle that didn't look particularly natural. He shifted his weight to his left backside, scanned the room, and spotted Hermione lying across the room from him with her eyes wide open. His face paled.

"Hermione," whispered Ron weakly.

Ginny glanced over at her and Luna's lying forms.

"They're stunned," she said. "We need to get them back to school. We all need to get out of here."

She wouldn't have known if Ron heard her for his eyes were fixed solely on Hermione, but he gave a quick nod, "Yeah we—," his eyes suddenly darted around, searching, then he looked back at Ginny in panic.

"Where's Neville?" his eyes were filled with fear, "Where's Harry?"

A deep booming yell echoed from the open door, and Ron's face first scrunched up in confusion, then suddenly turned to a hopeful expression.

"Is that— is that Moody I hear?" his voice was almost weepy.

"Yes," said Ginny, struggling back up on one foot. "And I think I heard Sirius too."

She tried helping her brother up to his feet but to no avail. His right knee was most definitely not okay.

"I'm going to get help," she said. "Stay here and look after the others."

Ron looked like he was about to protest but swallowed the argument quickly. "Wait—" he quickly glances at Hermione then at Ginny's angry and swollen ankle, "you can barely walk."

"Compared to you I can," she said and winced as she shifted her weight. "Look after the others."

Ron swallowed painfully but nodded, his eyes finding Hermione again. No one would dare doubt Ginny's hexing skills, but as the older brother it was instinct to worry.

"Hurry back, yeah?"

Ginny stared at her youngest brother and felt her heart swell almost as much as her throbbing ankle (the pain intensifying to the point of numbness, which made it easier to ignore). People always thought it was Bill that she favored the most among her brothers, them being particularly close as the eldest and youngest. But while their closeness was unquestionable, there was one brother whom Ginny revered the most. Sheer—although closeted—admiration.

Ron always wore his heart on his sleeve, no matter how much he tried to clam it up—which Ginny admired profusely, if not envied at times. While he regularly complained under his breath about the state of poverty their family lived in, his face often falling behind his mother's back whenever he found out he'd be inheriting something of his older brothers' (like Charlie's old set of school robes instead of getting fresh, personally tailored ones from Madam Malkin's)—it was exactly this that made him all the more benign.

It was Ron who always lent Ginny his hand-me-down broom after an afternoon of spitting out tantrums all over the Burrow when her other brothers refused to let her play along, Ron who merely huffs in annoyance every time she barges in his room, plopping down on his bed as she talked his ear off—though he let her anyway; Ron who was just so selfless despite all his lamenting, never thinking twice about giving.

You're my hero, Ron, Ginny thought to herself as she gave her brother a nimble nod.

"Wand out," she cautioned him, and he snorted.

"I'll give those Death Eaters a Bat-Bogey hex in your honor."

Ginny had to swallow back her tears. She didn't know why she was getting emotional at this point. Perhaps it was the thought of death not very far from where they stood, as Death Eaters swarmed the Ministry. She pointed her wand to his knees to distract him from the glassy sheen forming in her eyes.

"Ferula."

Bandages spun up Ron's leg, strapping it tightly to a splint. He winced as they secured themselves and then he heaved a grateful sigh. "Thanks. Hold out yours."

Ankle patched and throbbing dulled to a minimum, Ginny limped out of the Brain Room, wand out and ready.

If Sirius and the others are here, we'll be alright, she thought, fighting down the growing panic that if the Death Eaters didn't get to him first, the Ministry would capture him instantly. He was, after all, still a mass murderer on the lose. She refused to think about Harry, who was god-knows-where, probably being impulsive and angry and careless with a helpless Neville on his toes.

Ginny evaded all abhorrent thoughts and swiped traitorous tears from her cheeks angrily.

He has to be okay. They all have to be.

She headed straight to the only other door still open, the one through which the Death Eaters themselves had come. Gripping the frame tightly as she fought through the pain on her ankle, she saw—to her horror—Mad-Eye lying on his side in the middle of the room by the dais, bleeding from the head, his magic eye spinning across the floor near a paralyzed Dolohov; Kingsley was swaying across her field of vision, battling with a now mask-less Rookwood, and she saw Remus, who had successfully disarmed Lucius Malfoy.

Her eyes scanned the room in panic, but was suddenly swept with utmost relief at the sight of Harry and Neville hobbling up the stone steps towards her.

Ginny stopped the scream from bubbling out of her throat, noticing the glass spherical prophecy tightly clutched by Neville's hand, not wanting to draw attention to them any further.

“Come on!” she heard Harry cry desperately, hauling at Neville’s robes. “Just try and push with your legs —”

Something hot like liquid heat was suddenly melting down Ginny's ankle. She looked down to see that the bandages Ron had given her were glowing a deep purple. It's not the bandages, she realized, it's my foot— the glowing stopped.

What the—

"It won't last, Ms. Weasley, but it'll do long enough."

Ginny turned, wand raised, to see Albus Dumbledore standing behind her, his own wand equally aloft, his face white and furious. She felt a kind of electric charge surge through every particle of her body—they were saved.

"Professor," she stammered, "I—"

"Mr. Longbottom is in need of your assistance, dear one," Dumbledore said with no preamble. "Go. The spell on your ankle won't last long."

She wasted no time.

Running down the stone steps, she ran into Neville, clutched him by the arm, and he almost sagged on top of her completely if it weren't for Harry holding him up.

"Ginny!" Harry looked at her in panic. "Where's Ron?"

"He's fine," she panted, hitching one of Neville's arms over her shoulders, "They're all fine. Harry, listen. Dumbledo—"

Announcing his presence was futile, she realized, as screams of fury suddenly rang throughout the chamber.

All three of them turned back to see one of the Death Eaters running for it, scrabbling like a monkey up the stone steps opposite. Dumbledore’s spell pulled him back as easily and effortlessly as though he had hooked him with an invisible line.

Only one couple were still battling, apparently unaware of the new arrival. Ginny saw Sirius duck Bellatrix’s jet of red light: He was laughing at her. “Come on, you can do better than that!” he yelled, his voice echoing around the cavernous room.

The second jet of light barely missed his head. Sirius staggered backwards in shock. Ginny saw Bellatrix's face erupt into a triumphant smile as she raised her wand, pointing straight for his chest—

She heard Harry yell to her right but she had no more time to think, adrenaline and desperation pumping through her veins. She grabbed the prophecy from Neville who's grip had slackened in fright. This is way lighter than a Quaffle, a voice spoke in the back of her head as she let go of Neville, though unaware of doing so, shifted her weight back for a split second and released the glass orb with all her might, aiming for the space between Sirius and the tip of Bellatrix's wand.

"Avada Kedavra!"

It almost hit him

The jet of green light flashed through Ginny's memory, colliding with the the spherical orb of the prophecy instead of Sirius's chest, although its force was so strong that it knocked him off his feet, he passed out cold on the Death Chamber floor....

"Ginerva? Ginerva, dear, I told you to lie back down— Oh, my sweet," Madam Pomfrey's voice shook her out of her painful daze. She was back in the hospital wing, hand numb from clutching the bed post so tightly; the pain from her ankle was making her dizzy that she didn't realize the tears pouring out of her eyes.

"Is," she sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve messily, "is he going to be—"

"The healers are doing everything they can," Madam Pomfrey murmured quietly although her face was grim. "Let me have a look at your—"

"I'm okay," said Ginny stubbornly. She wouldn't move an inch farther away from Harry and Sirius than she already was.

"Ginny, I swear if you don't let Madam Pomfrey look at your leg I'll hex you myself," she heard Ron growl, although tiredly, from the bed behind her. "There's nothing you can do just lie back down."

Ginny gritted her teach so hard they almost hurt as much as everything else. She stared at Sirius's lying form helplessly from afar, then shifted her eyes back to Harry who now had a tired-looking Remus guarding him from shaking his godfather awake.

She gave a defeated sigh and let the school matron lead her to bed, sleep consuming her instantly no matter how hard she fought it.

----—----

It's been almost a week. A week. And Sirius still hasn't woken.

Ginny was finally discharged after four days; Madam Pomfrey casted final charms to fully mend her ankle and prescribed her with the Potion for Dreamless Sleep to help her with her shock and nightmares.

Ron and Neville had to stay for two more nights, and Hermione for another week—the curse Dolohov had used on her, though less effective than it would have been had he been able to say the incantation aloud (Hermione had cast a Silencing Charm on him before he attacked), had nevertheless caused, in Madam Pomfrey’s words, “quite enough damage to be going on with.” Hermione was having to take ten different types of potion every day and although she was improving greatly, was already bored with the hospital wing.

This gave Ginny every excuse to drop by everyday without fail. She brought everyone Honeydukes sweets, some pastries from Dobby, and fresh flowers for Sirius's bedside. She's also piled his stash of Pumpkin Pasties so much that she heard one of the healers attending to him scoff in disdain.

"If the rebound curse won't kill him, those sweets will, deary," said the healer in disapproval.

But Ginny didn't care, of course, she merely hid the stash under his bed, away from prying eyes. He would thank her when he woke up. For a laugh (more for her than anyone, really), she also hoarded volumes of The Quibbler from Luna, specifically the editions flooded with speculations of Sirius being the innocent singing sensation Stubby Boardman, lead of the band The Hobogoblins.

"You have to wake up now," she told his sleeping form, making sure to sound as miffed as she possibly could. Dumbledore said that talking to him might help, although she suspected he only said so for Ginny's sake. She sat on the edge of his bed one Hogsmeade morning. She barely went anywhere besides the hospital wing these days—despite Dean Thomas's efforts in coaxing her a trip to the Three Broomsticks. "You haven't even seen me play Seeker, Stubby, what happens when your godson takes it back next term?"

But she was only met with Sirius's steady breathing. Which was a good thing, at least is what the healers from St. Mungo's said. The collision that the Killing Curse and the prophecy made was enough to block the curse's intentions, but was able to emit some kind of stunning aftermath, knocking Sirius out cold. She remembered when they all thought him dead, Harry shaking with fury as he dashed out of the Death Chamber after Bellatrix Lestrange.

"You should've seen him, Stubby," she whispered, her eyes roaming all over Sirius's pale, gaunt face. "He looked like he would've killed for you."

She thought she saw a hitch in his breathing, a change so subtle that she held her own. But the following breaths after that were as steady as it had bin, making her convince herself it was only her hopeful imagination.

"Ginny?"

She was so focused on studying Sirius's breathing that she didn't hear privacy curtain open behind her.

Harry Potter, skinny, pale, and hair mussed up as ever, stood awkwardly by the foot of his godfather's bed, his hands holding a bowl of what smelled like onion soup with sides of sliced bread. His glasses were askew and misty from the spring wind and he looked like he just shimmied out of bed and put on the first jumper he saw, because he was wearing one with a big 'R' on his chest.

It was then that Ginny realized that she hasn't seen much of Sirius's godson in the long period that he's been lying in the hospital wing. Every time she visited, even when the others were still around, Harry would've already left to god-knows-where, or she would have had classes and missed running into him. Even sightings in the common room or at the Great Hall were rare.

It's not as if you've been avoiding him, Ginny thought to herself as she stood up to leave, it's just bad timing is all.

"Harry," she smiled at him and nodded at his bowl of soup, "That for the dog?"

He gave out a laugh that made her insides thump erratically. She hasn't seen a smile on his face for so long and she's missed it terribly.

"Yeah," he said with a small smile, and looked at Sirius. "Looks like he's not hungry still."

His smile still held its place but his eyes were almost cheerless.

Crossing her arms dramatically, Ginny turned to glare at the benumbed form before them, "Hear that, Stubby? Your godson's been bringing you breakfast and this is how you repay him?"

Again, they were met with silence and she heard Harry chuckle, "Maybe that'll work," he said, "I've been spitting praises all over to try to get him to wake."

She rolled her eyes, "Don't spoil him," she warned although she smiled fondly down at Sirius, "he might be enjoying it too much."

Harry let out a tiny laugh once again, making her warm all over. She loved seeing him not brooding. It was a rare sight this term, and now that Umbridge was gone, she hoped she'd see more of it.

"Well," she started as she scanned the floor for her book bag, "I'll leave you with the rascal then—"

"You don't have to leave," said Harry and she looked up at him to meet his alarmed gaze. "Really, Ginny I—," he stammered, "you don't have to go."

Ginny stared at him worryingly, "Are you sure? You don't have any secrets to talk about?"

He chuckled, "Yes. I mean no. No—we— I have no secrets," he was surely flushing now, and Ginny sniggered.

"Well alright then," she said, hoisting herself back up on the edge of Sirius's bed. "Is that onion soup I smell? Haven’t had breakfast."

Harry sighed with relief and rounded the bed, grabbing two spoons from his godfather's bedside drawer and sagged down the chair beside Ginny's legs. They sipped the onion soup in silence for a few minutes before Harry cleared his throat and glanced up at her.

"I—," his face was red and she was sure it was because of the soup, "I never got to thank you."

Ginny raised her eyebrows at him questioningly before slurping loudly from her spoon. Harry burst out laughing.

She grinned cheekily at him, legs swinging back and forth on the edge of the bed, "What for?"

He shook his head, "What do you mean 'what for?' You saved Sirius."

It was Ginny’s turn to look embarrassed. Seeing as this was the first time they were actually talking about what happened at the Ministry (the first time talking at all after the Ministry), the subject of the prophecy that Ginny so careless sent flying (quite literally) was never mentioned, not even by the others. She didn't think anybody even knew about it—apart from Harry and Neville and other members of the Order present in the Death Chamber. She had little thought for it, all her worries focused on her friends and her brother getting better.

"Barely," replied Ginny, shrugging nonchalantly at the boy in front of her. "To be honest, I could've thrown something more durable," Harry laughed at this, "but balls are the only thing I'm good at aiming with and that was the closest thing." She frowned after a thought, "To be honest, I wasn't thinking at all."

Harry shook his head again and looked at her with something she could've described as awe, "Well I'm glad you didn't think," he said and a hint of despair flashed in his eyes, although quickly appeased. "I don't even want to think about what would've if you did."

They were quiet for a moment, both now focused on Sirius's rhythmic breathing. Ginny chanced a deceitful glance at the boy she so perplexingly pined for for so long. She couldn't deny that her fourth year in Hogwarts drastically changed now that Harry was more to her than just her brother's best friend. She could actually call him her friend. She couldn't believe it took her this long to woman up and finally start talking around him, realizing how much of an awkward bloke he was.

Well, I won't miss out on you anymore, Harry Potter.

She smiled wistfully at the fact that his hair was as unkept as ever, not realizing that her own hand was reaching out in a foolish attempt to tame it...

"Hey, I was thinking!"

Ginny gave a startled jump, Harry's voice slicing through her shameful haze, and reared back her hand so fast that her elbow hit Sirius's knee.

"OW," she yelped, clutching her joint closely.

"Wha— are you okay?"

"What in the—what is this man made of? Steel?" She rubbed her elbow, wincing, and hoped Harry took no notice of her mortifying intentions.

He merely laughed, "No, I don't reckon Sirius is much of a Superman."

"A super what?"

His eyes were full of amusement as he gazed a Ginny's disgruntled face. "Never mind. Listen, what do you think about trying out for Chaser next year?"

She blinked at him.

"Chaser?"

Harry blushed awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yeah I mean—er—I know you're Seeker now," Ginny was smirking now, "but uh, you have really good aim and— well, that's not saying you're not a good Seeker already. I mean— I don't even know if next year's Captain will take me back in if—"

Before Ginny could stop herself, she grabbed a piece of uneaten bread from the meal they just shared and flicked it straight for Harry's face.

It hit him square in between his eyebrows, nudging his round glasses even more askew.

His expression was priceless.

She laughed boisterously at his stunned look. He was gawking at her.

"That aim good enough for you, Potter?"

It took him a beat to recover, a wide playful grin spreading across his face. "Pretty good, Weasley," he admitted, then tapped on his forehead mockingly, "Could definitely use some practice though, you missed the scar."

Nothing but absurd and ridiculous banter issued after that, their conversation flowing with so much ease, that Ginny swore to herself she would never allow her foolish feelings to keep her from Harry ever again.

And if she wasn't so enamored by his breath-taking laughter, she might have noticed the impish ghost of a smirk from the patient lying on the bed.

#by gabi #hinny fic #ginny weasley and sirius black friendship #harry potter #ginny weasley #sirius black #ootp #order of the phoenix missing moments #Sirius lives #byGabi

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basilone · 3 years

Note

72. Mischief Managed for Ron and Darlene

*insert evil laugh here*

You had to do it, huh. You just took one look at all my complaints about Darlene and said “you know what, let’s give Eva a good time and have her write this girl who just won’t shut up”.. 😂 I can’t even be mad about this because I do love her despite my grumblings, and because this dynamic is just one hell of a *chef’s kiss* to me.

If anybody later claims that she was spoiling for this fight to happen, angling for this girl to cross the line mid-argument just enough so she could land the first punch, prodding and poking at the embers of some fire burning bright in her belly all the while, she’s going to laugh it off and snarl that the other one started it – started it with those damn comments about Lottie, who ain’t here to defend herself, and about Darlene herself, never one for propriety and somehow offending some kind of delicate sensibility merely through existing in this space – and that girl fucking good and well deserved to get her ass beat.

She’s laughing up a riot mid-fight, pausing just long enough to knock back another drink, signalling “come at me” with every cocky jut of her hips and her come-hither gestures kept at the same level like that because all battles are based in the gut, sweeping her hair back and grinning like the damn fool her mama always told her she is, and she’s about to clean house now that even the RAF fellas have stepped back and everybody knows it too because there come the first complaints – “really, Darlene, she’s had enough” and “Darlene, give it a rest” chief among ’em – and her booming laugh exalts in this space until it turns just a little hoarse, just a little throaty, just a little too provocative and she almost catches a glass to the face for her troubles.

She’s snarling, then, and about to leap atop the offending party and give ’em what for, but then there is one strong arm at her waist that lifts her clear off the floor like she weighs absolutely nothing at all, like she ain’t steady on her feet whatsoever, and she’s struggling in the tight grip and scrambling to get a hold of whoever’s dragging her out off the floor and into the cold night air and making her kick up some kind of almighty fuss of “lemme go ah ain’t done lemme get at her ah gotta ah have ta –” and then there’s a voice at her ear, low and insistent, laced through with command that makes her shiver and sets her bones a-quakin’ with the tone he takes with her like she ain’t earned any points in his book yet.

And he’s the kinda man to keep a book like that, ain’t he, because he’s all glowering down at her when she finally gets a good look at him and he don’t smile easy at all, she can tell that much about him when he sets her down on her feet outside, but there’s some flicker of amusement when she bites a “fuck you too, sir” at him before she can good and well stop her mouth from betraying her disrespect, something of interest in the way he ducks his head and lights a cigarette that she wants to pilfer off him as soon as the smoke curls into her nostrils, and something of a fight brewing in the quirk of his mouth and the later upward tilt of his head as he eyes her and asks her if she’s done causing mischief now like he’s the demanding type used to gettin’ his way with everything.

She laughs anew, fire burning hot in her veins, flames licking her insides until they fan out and leave her trembling with something of longing, and she knows her eyes spark some sort of challenge because he steps almost toe to toe with her at its appearance and then it’s only a real short distance between her mouth and his ear when she murmurs a “wanna manage this mischief, sir, until ah’m done causin’ it?” in that space between them like she knows full well what she’s doing – and doesn’t she just, when his eyes darken and she knows she’s got him and he’s better than any goddamn pub brawl when he crowds her up against the wall and he weaves strands of her hair between his fingers until he can tug her head back – and then it’s only a shorter distance between their lips that he crosses just as she snarls out “or ain’t ya got the guts” and well fuck he might just be the only fella on any side of the Atlantic that can make her eat her words just like that..

#ronald speirs #oc: darlene #ron x darlene #we can have a troublemaker OC as a treat!#as far as character intros go this would be the top notch one #please ignore that I already wrote her on this blog before #this is Darlene to a t right here #serasvictoria #five sentence fics #basilonefic #writing20202021

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highflyartist · 3 years

Text

I posted 70 times in 2021

42 posts created (60%)

28 posts reblogged (40%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 0.7 posts.

I added 126 tags in 2021

#the nutcracker - 26 posts

#nutcracker - 23 posts

#cute - 19 posts

#hawaii - 12 posts

#the levoy cousins - 10 posts

#saragona levoy - 9 posts

#annabella levoy - 8 posts

#nutcracker oc - 7 posts

#nutcracker month - 6 posts

#nutcracker season - 6 posts

Longest Tag: 50 characters

#i think i typed too much stuff for this character-

My Top Posts in 2021

Day 1: Nutcracker.

Yeah, I basically joined Nutcracker Month since I heard its a bit of a christmas tradition on Tumblr.

This pink-haired boy you see right now is Prince Saragona Levoy. (Sorry if you feel offended because he's flipping you off.)

He is a bit of a brat but once you get to know him, he'll probably show you his true feelings. Trust me, Annabella has it down.

He wants to break his curse so he can finally "prove" that he is fearless but being cursed for years may come as a challenge. Especially when your Marie (Annabella Levoy) isn't from London but instead is from Hawaii, USA.

"Drosselmeyer," I asked impatiently, "Why does this nutcracker look like someone I know?" I look at the nutcracker from a different angle. Something about this certain nutcracker seems to catch my eye.

8 notes • Posted 2021-11-28 04:54:34 GMT

(Yeah screw it I'm doing it early cuz school-)

Day 4: The Mouse King

You all know the Mouse King, he's the main antagonist of the original nutcracker story and literally almost every adaptation has him. But what if I told you that this Mouse King is different? Now I'm gonna be talking a lot so brace yourselves.

The Mouse King is actually Saragona's brother, Lucas Levoy! (Plot twist, I'm gonna add a lot of these.) Lucas was the general of his father's army and he is basically a bratty royal. (At least we know where Saragona got his brat personality from)

Lucas and his army won against the mice in a fierce 3 year battle while Saragona was like 5 years old when it ended. Lucas had reigned supreme but not before one night when Madam Mouserinks (at least thats what I remember, or as some people call her: The Mouse Queen) proceeds to place the curse on Lucas, turning him into a giant mouse. He couldn't even fit into his clothes anymore. Not even his own father could recognize him.

The only thing Lucas got from his father was a slice off his right ear, and the boot out of the castle. He was put under despair and as 10 years passed, the kingdom had forgotten about him; especially with the death of the Mouse Queen being announced. The verge of his sanity blew away from his once calm, bratty self. All he wanted was revenge.. His mind had gone insane.. He'd want to kill everyone.. Everyone in the kingdom who forgot about the Mouse-ified general who had defeated the mouse army before he got cursed.

Lucas succeeded for a while, cursing Annabella when she was only a baby to be the most ugliest thing alive but then his brother, Saragona, broke the magic nut and freed Annabella from her curse. Lucas became furious, and then his insanity went off the charts. He "visited" Saragona, only for him to chop off his brother's long hair, dye it pink, then turn him into a nutcracker. After that, he killed his father; consuming his corpse, leaving no trace of his body. All Lucas needed next.. was the young princess.

And before u ask, yes he was born with red eyes and sharp teeth. It's from his dad's side.

"LUCAS," I heard Saragona yell while he held his mighty peppermint sword, "LEAVE HER ALONE!" The Mouse King growled at him and snapped, "YOU WILL REFER TO ME AS THE MOUSE KING YOU HUNK OF JUNKY FIRE WOOD OF A BROTHER!" Brother? This confused me. The Mouse King is Saragona's brother? It shocked me for a moment until I felt the mouse king stick his bloody fingers toward my chin. I began to sweat like mad crazy. "SURRENDER BROTHER, AND SHE GOES FREE! DISOBLIGE TO MY ORDERS AND SHE BECOMES MY NEXT MEAL!" I was dead-meat. However, Saragona ignored and while the mouse king wasn't looking, he grabbed hold of me and began to protect me like what the actual nutcracker did for Clara.

8 notes • Posted 2021-12-01 05:43:37 GMT

So I did the template made by @artsynoova and it was worth it UwU

I'm gonna do Annabella next-

8 notes • Posted 2021-11-07 14:44:33 GMT

Here's Saragona's cousin, Annabella Levoy!

And yes, both of them are from Hawaii.

Now I think I'm gonna do these templates again but this time with Henry and Ashlee (I'll think about it)

9 notes • Posted 2021-11-07 18:41:25 GMT

I've recently gotten back into Epic Mickey just because I only had one of the games in my childhood years and also because Oswald FNF mod.

Oswald The Lucky Rabbit is a precious bab.

13 notes • Posted 2021-10-31 02:59:33 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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dilly-oh · 4 years

Text

I Do (Achoo)

Naruto and Hinata have a summer wedding, complete with outdoor seating, crisp white drapery and beaming sunflowers decorating the venue. It’s all very lovely and elegant, from what Kakashi has seen, until Iruka walks in and he stops looking at everything else.

You can’t really blame him, though. Iruka is looking finer than the china, and coincidentally, Kakashi’d also like to eat off of him. His wedding attire is all deep dark blues and accents, a near match to Kakashi’s own outfit, though he doesn’t pull it off nearly as well. He’d rather pull off Iruka’s, to be honest.

Kakashi isn’t paying much attention throughout the ceremony, too busy side-eying the Sensei, who proudly stands next to Naruto with tears gleaming in his eyes as he watches his adoptive brother/son stumble adorably over his vows to Hinata. He faintly hears the “I do’s” and mechanically claps along with the rest before wandering back to join the chattering crowd, trailing after Iruka while surreptitiously sniffing at his subtle cologne. He’s trying to discern exactly what scent it could be (is that a hint of sandalwood? Amber, maybe?) when the bouquet hits him square in the face.

Flowers and pollen explode everywhere, coating the side of one cheek and the bridge of his nose like a swipe of yellow paint. With a quick startled inhale, the pollen shoots straight up his nostrils to attack his olfactory senses directly and he stumbles back, choking for breath.

“Kakashi-san! Are you alright?” Iruka is suddenly right beside him, hurriedly brushing petals off of Kakashi’s chest, his forehead wrinkled in concern. He leans in close to wipe at a streak of pollen high on his cheekbone, biting his lip nervously. Kakashi is touched by Iruka’s gentle concern, acting like he’d been hit with a kunai and not a bushel of flowers. Also, a little turned on. He opens his mouth to ask him to kiss it better.

And sneezes right in his face.

---

Kakashi wants to die. Which is why he’s currently got his head stuck under the faucet of the bathroom sink, desperately trying to wash away any lingering pollen and shame. Mostly the shame.

He figures a couple more minutes ought to do it.

“Here,” a voice says from behind, slightly distorted by the sound of water. “I brought you a towel.”

“Thanks.” Kakashi straightens, water dripping down his chin, and reaches back without looking to take the towel. He scrubs at his face, lets out a deep sigh, and looks in the mirror to assess the damage. His haggard reflection stares back, bloodshot eyes red and puffy, his nose still running a bit. He looks exactly like he feels – like shit. Thank God Iruka isn’t here to see him like this.

And then he sees who’s behind him.

It’s Iruka.

Now he definitely wants to die.

“You alright?” Iruka asks shyly, standing at his shoulder. He’s kept his eyes down, politely respecting Kakashi’s need for privacy, whether for his lack of mask or sheer embarrassment, he’s not sure. Kakashi just stares at him in the mirror for a long, confused moment.

“…You…you’re not…mad at me?” he asks, his voice rough. All he gets is a raised eyebrow in response. “For…you know…the sneeze?” Iruka scoffs.

“Kakashi-san, I work with children. I get covered in snot on a daily basis. I’ve been barfed on by three different kids in the same hour. And don’t even get me started about kids who ‘can’t hold it anymore’. I’ve had to throw entire carpets away. There is nothing you can do to me that’ll gross me out.”

That almost sounds like a challenge.

Reminding himself to behave, Kakashi slowly turns around to face the other man, pulling his mask back up as his eyes flick downward. He’s surprised to see the offending bouquet in Iruka’s hand, still mostly whole despite their heated battle.

“…You kept it,” he says quietly.

“Of course I did,” Iruka replies, raising his own gaze. “You caught it, technically. So it’s yours. Although…” He breaks off to chuckle lightly. “I didn’t know the Copy Nin’s greatest foe was allergies.”

“…Alright, you got me. It’s my darkest secret,” Kakashi says after a beat. “If anyone finds out, I’ll have dozens of missing-Nin after me, armed with flower arrangements and premium bouquets.” Iruka laughs at that, and Kakashi decides the sound of it far outweighs the cost of his own dignity.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” Iruka says, still grinning.

“I’ve always had a sensitive nose,” Kakashi shrugs. “The mask usually helps.”

“And here I thought it was to hide your charming good looks.”

“Well, that too.” He can’t help but wink, which earns another laugh.

“I guess there are a lot of things I don’t know about you,” Iruka admits, scratching at his scar awkwardly. “We’ve never really had a chance to talk, have we?”

“…We’re doing it now,” Kakashi points out.

“Huh. Guess you’re right.” Iruka pauses thoughtfully. “So…do you have any hobbies?” Kakashi either has water in his ears or he hears a hint of flirting in his tone. He’s so surprised that it takes him a few seconds to realize Iruka just asked him a question and his brain starts scrambling for an answer.

“Dog walking,” he says lamely, then has to resist the urge to stick his head back under the faucet.

“Oh, I love dogs,” Iruka says, and Kakashi decides then and there he cannot possibly get any hotter. Actually, scratch that, his shirt could be off. “You have ninken, right? I’d love to meet them.”

“I’m sure they’d love to meet you, too.” Kakashi replies. “Just...bring treats for everyone.” You’re MY treat, he thinks to himself, then takes a deep breath and plunges on. “…Would you like to join us tomorrow morning?”

“I’d like that alot.” Iruka beams at him happily, overflowing with warmth. It’s almost as if he’s a flower himself, lovely and open and fragrant. Kakashi opens his mouth to ask him if he’d like to be pollinated.

And sneezes again.

(Written for @kakairu-fest KakaIru Week 2020, Day One Prompt: Hobbies/Weddings, also kinda works for Day Two Prompt: Confessions/Health too lol)

#kakairu #KakaIru Week 2020 #Hobbies/Weddings #dem allergies tho #hatake kakashi #Umino Iruka #naruto #my writing #Confessional/Health

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tenacityreturns · 4 years

Text

aokaga fic alert!

plot: kagami and aomine have their first important rematch since they started dating. sure, he’d been looking forward to this for ages, but there’s something keeping kagami from fully devoting himself to the game. it’s a block that’s costing seirin points. will he be able to get over it before halftime ends? word count: 3020 rating: sfw, but maybe there’s a cheeky kiss since this was originally from a five times kissed prompt until it got too long

second quarter. benched. two fouls ( including one against aomine ). legs are starting to hurt. seething. kagami watches the score board with his lip in his teeth. touou increase the point gap, but not by much. aomine’s hanging back, not playing to his best. isn’t that good? isn’t that a good thing that he’s not running seirin into the ground? he could if he wanted to. no... no, it only pisses kagami off even more. aomine doesn’t respect seirin enough. he’s going easy on them in case he upsets kagami. the bastard! it’s too late for that. his teammates must know that aomine’s holding back, and they must also know it’s because of kagami. nobody knows they’re dating, at least, kagami doesn’t think they do, but it’s clear that touou’s ace is only interested in battling seirin’s in a one-on-one.

the zone feels so far off. is this what kise was talking about? once you love someone, you don’t want--- no, you physically cannot give your all. even against aomine, whom kagami has plenty of experience maxing out his stamina, there’s something blocking him. he hadn’t even worked up much of a sweat before he was benched. kagami wants to win. seirin want to win. but he can’t enter the zone. why can’t he? doesn’t he want to? things only got interesting with aomine after he lost! his leg starts bouncing. kagami needs to get back out there. this is really fucking pissing him off! he doesn’t get what’s wrong with him, either! damn. he knew he was nervous before this match, but didn’t realise it would stop him from playing properly!

the seconds tick by. nearly half-time. what will aomine do with the moments ahead?

hyuuga scores a three, it’s nice. his teammates on the bench cheer, but kagami’s watching aomine. glaring. seething, truly. he should have stopped it.

aomine looks over.

concentrate on the game, you bastard!

kagami watches the grimace form across dark features. kuroko passes the ball to izuki, who looks like he’s clear to get to maybe the three point line, and pass to hyuuga who’s open. kagami glances at the time and when he returns to the spot touou’s number 5 had been, he’s not there. izuki’s motionless for a whole second, staring in horror at aomine as he’s flying towards his target. he’d just-- appeared. kagami hadn’t even seen it. how fast had aomine been to not only get to izuki, but to steal before he’d had a chance to defend himself? the upperclassmen turn on their heels and go after him, but there’s no shame in defence’s inability to stop one of aomine’s formless shots. damn. that’s so cool. aomine’s so good at going from flat out sprint to complete stop. not even a falter. jeez. he’s walking towards his team’s bench before the buzzer goes, but there was nothing seirin could do. fifteen points behind.

he had to talk to him. had to. maybe aomine’s own bad mood would snap kagami out of his. they loved playing against each other! this is really off! so he pulls on his sweater and walks on over, saying nothing to his own team before leaving. kagami’s not thinking about whether or not there are any rules against talking to his opponents. aomine’s back is turned, but momoi’s surprised kagamin? is enough to turn all heads. aomine’s own shock doesn’t go unnoticed. how could he think kagami didn’t want to talk it out right now?

“can i see you outside?” kagami doesn’t like being over here. it feels weird, he can feel a lot of eyes on him, and this can’t be allowed for how close this feels to trespassing. “sorry,” he adds impulsively.

aomine, the only person kagami can bear to look at right now, blinks uselessly. it’s momoi who speaks first. thank god she does; kagami had been milliseconds from stomping away in embarrassment.

“we’d like him back a few minutes before we begin,” she pushes him forwards, kickstarting aomine to move by himself. momoi knows about them. she must know about them. aomine pulls on his jacket and the two leave. kagami’s going to get so told off when he gets back. majorly told off. ah, so what? what can they do, bench him?

“i thought we talked about this,” aomine says gravely as they continue down the corridor, “we’re gonna go all out.”

“that’s just what i could say to you!” kagami’s quick to raise his voice, but he has to separate in-game tension with out-of-game tension. he exhales. “you’re holding back.”

“you’re benched, what the hell is the point?”

“that’s my team you’re talking about!”

aomine sighs. “did you call me out here just to blow off steam? save that for the game. now, back to the point, why are you holding back?”

“i’m not---”

“yes, you were.”

they stop walking. no one is around but this is still just a hallway not very far from the locker-rooms. kagami’s indignant and he’s mad. “you’re holding back! that last point was the first time you even tried!”

“like i said, taiga, you’re benched. you want me to demolish your teammates?”

“respect them, at least!”

“---- are you mad at me?”

“yes!”

“for what?”

“holding back!”

“stop saying that! you’re being an idiot right now,” aomine growls, “you backed out of a one-on-one earlier. you just passed. why didn’t you challenge me?”

kagami falters. had he done that? oh. yeah. earlier in the last quarter, he can picture it now. they’re face-to-face: aomine’s radiating intensity. every twitching muscle is under his gaze. he knows kagami, knows what he likes to do. but instead of rising to the challenge, kagami hesitates, and passes. aomine doesn’t try to steal it, either. he stands there looking disappointed. that was the first moment that kagami felt the pent-up tightness in his chest. it cascades as all anxiety does within him into anger and then he starts getting fouls. coach said he isn’t thinking clearly. she’s right.

“we said it doesn’t matter who wins. or didn’t you mean that?”

oh. fuck. kagami’s hand reaches up to where the ring on his neck usually sits, and in that moment, his worries become so much clearer. he’d thought that he’d been able to disconnect aomine his boyfriend, and aomine his rival. he was right, after all, kagami’s certain that he’ll still love aomine if touou wins today. it will suck, but as long as they’ve both gone all out, there’s nothing more to be said than that he needs to get stronger. but he hadn’t thought the fear through. he hadn’t even considered that he might be worried aomine would stop loving him if he lost. people have a habit of saying one thing, but when kagami beats them, it’s all over. it’s happened before. aomine’s searching for answers in kagami’s face, but this is hard to say. of all people he could be speaking to, perhaps aomine is one who understands this best.

“do you want to win today?” kagami asks quietly.

“of course i do.”

“what if you lost?”

“that’s not gonna happen.”

“daiki.”

“fine, it’d be shit,” he shrugs, “but nothing would change.”

“nothing?”

“can’t you just say what’s bothering you? we don’t have a lot of time here.”

kagami huffs. “maybe i can’t enter the zone ‘cuz i keep thinking you won’t like me when i win.” when. that’s already a step in the right direction. “i know what you said, but i’ve heard it before.”

it’s aomine’s turn to fall silent. he looks away with a worrisome frown. what’s he thinking about? is he offended that kagami doesn’t believe him? he’s sorry! it’s such a stupid kind of insecurity! it’s not that he doesn’t want to play against him! ugh. this is the worst. who knew dating rivals would be this hard?

“maybe i lied earlier,” aomine finally says. “i think i want you guys to win. or-- to get close.”

kagami inhales, about to yell, furious that this means aomine’s going to hold back----

“my body didn’t recover for days last time. i was exhausted.”

shouting contest averted. huh? kagami feels like he’s one step behind.

“i went all out and lost. my best wasn’t good enough back then. but the point was, i could actually try.”

“yeah,” kagami lowers his eyes, hand once again reaching for the necklace which isn’t sitting at his collarbone.

“and seeing you going up against akashi like that-- you, tetsu, the rest of your team. it was something else. so you better show that to me today or i’ll be pissed.”

“you’re not gonna hold back?”

“no. i don’t get anything outta that, don’t you get it? i wanna beat the team that beat rakuzan.”

“yeah?” kagami’s ego is off the charts right now-- or is it his self-esteem? he’s not feeling big-headed by these statements, it’s more like someone he respects so highly in basketball is reaffirming his own talent in it and it’s amazing. it’s so cool. aomine’s so cool. his mood is immediately alleviated and he’s almost forgotten the fog that stopped him from playing only minutes ago.

“we’re gonna win, though,” aomine smirks. “we’re not the same guys as last time.”

“no,” kagami’s turn to smirk ( and it’s the first positive expression in ages ), “i heard you’ve actually been to practise once or twice since then.”

“shut up. i’m gonna wipe that dumb look off your face.”

they’re close. it’s totally normal that these two rivals would be standing inches apart, so kagami doesn’t move away. scarlet eyes, narrowing with a happy smile, dance his gaze across aomine’s face.

kagami thinks about all the times before they got together that they could easily have been fighting if they’d been this close. not recently. recently, kagami’s been able to just kiss him if they’re at home! picture that. kagami wanting to kiss someone, and that particular someone being the coolest idiot he knows! and aomine daiki wanting to kiss him! sometimes, kagami wouldn’t even have said anything to drastically improve the mood, and aomine would kiss him out of the blue! it’s too much to think about that and not be able to do so right now. can’t he kiss him? of all the times, maybe mid-game is the worst. it would be distracting, right? but it’s instinctual. now’s a good moment for it. the perfect moment to do it. they’re outside, though. in the open. with a huff of annoyance ( what a bother to have to relocate! ), kagami makes his decision.

aomine can sense something is about to happen, and opens his mouth to speak, but he’s too slow. kagami takes his wrist and pulls him back towards the court. there's a janitor's closet nearby. kagami's pretty sure he saw it on the way over, and he can definitely smell bleach on the air.

"taiga," aomine slips his wrist free, but keeps pace. yeah, maybe that's wise. keep the touching for when they’re alone. "is that it? I've knocked some sense back into you already?"

"just follow me, alright? it's around here somewhere."

"what is?" it's Aomine's turn to look as though he's two steps behind of the situation. kagami's still smiling, but there's determination in his eyes that he'll carry to the court. aha! here it is! and it's unlocked!

"oh, great," aomine is totally confused and looks so funny as kagami pushes him inside. "you gonna lock me in here to guarantee your win, bakagami?” is he that oblivious? kagami pulls the door shut. "well?"

"well?" kagami repeats incredulously. he has to laugh. "and you call me an idiot!" but he won't leave aomine guessing for long ( because he doesn't want to ). he wraps his arms around his boyfriend in a hug, but it's partly to find him in the dark.

"we could've done this outside, dummy,"

“shut up,” despite his words, kagami came in here to do something, and he knows if he gets caught up in aomine’s games then he’ll miss his chance! and who knows what they’ll do after the match. so it’s now, or tomorrow, and with this kind of thing, he’ll always choose now.

a hand comes up to hold aomine's jaw. the wise cracks stop. arms raise around kagami's middle to return the hug, and now they're kissing. now, hands roam where they couldn’t before. now, as ever, something stirs in his chest and his gut and if he isn’t careful, kagami won’t want to leave. they couldn't have done this outside. even straight couples would be told this kind of display should be reserved for private spaces. they’re chest-to-chest, kagami’s back against the door. aomine always knows what to do.

"daiki," kagami whispers after a minute ( or was it two? three? ), "we should go back."

"you started it,"

"it’s not my fault!”

“i’m just that irresistible, huh?”

yes, actually. kind of. ugh! it’s enough to make kagami pull away, but the hands around his waist hold fast. the moment is over. whether aomine knew that being annoying was enough to snap kagami out of it is up to anyone’s guess. “come on, ahomine, we gotta get back.”

“are you gonna trust me now?”

kagami’s first reaction is to scoff, but aomine’s eyes are serious. kagami wants to say that it wasn’t an issue of trust, it’s just that he has a scar on his heart from when people he loves leave him. but maybe that is trust. aomine hasn’t earnt it yet. the results of this game will show both of their true colours. but he can’t word any of this right now, so he’ll nod. for now, he trusts aomine not to abandon him too. right?

“ah, babe,” aomine drops his hands, “you’re such a bad liar.”

kagami frowns, lowering his gaze. he can’t fight that. maybe it had been a lie? he takes a grounding breath. in through his nose, out through his mouth. it wasn’t. he trusts aomine. and if kagami gets hurt again, he’ll just have to know that there was nothing he could do about it. but it’s the same for aomine too, isn’t it? he’s used to people leaving him because he’s too good. how dumb is that? that people would stop being friends with someone because they’re too fucking good at something? it won’t happen today. it won’t. they like each other. in less than half an hour, the match will be over and this will be nothing more than a memory. determination lights up his eyes, aomine can see it in the dark. kagami will try his hardest to beat him. he will.

“i’m gonna win, daiki.”

“that’s better,” aomine exhales, and squeezes past to exit the closet. he slowly opens the door at first, but the coast must have been clear because he walks out as if it’s the most normal thing in the world to leave a janitor’s closet. “now, focus. watch out you don’t get anymore fouls. what are you on now?”

“two,” kagami replies just a little petulantly. “worry about yourself! now i’m feeling more level-headed, you’re gonna have to pay close attention.”

“level-headed?” he chuckles, “if i lose, i’m definitely gonna blame that kiss. you’re trying to sabotage me.”

“what!” it’s still weird to think that he occupies any of aomine’s thoughts, and too weird that now he’s struggling to concentrate because of him. he’s blushing at the thought! “get your head in the game, dumbass!”

“why are you going red? shouldn’t i be the embarrassed one?”

“no, i’m not! you’re just seeing things!”

they push open the doors to the court together: entering as confidently as two unstoppable forces could. each believed they’d win, it radiated from every pore. kagami’s blush settles because aomine doesn’t push the topic, he must have known it would mess up the redhead’s turbulent headspace again if he did.

he feels so refreshed now. he’s definitely not as worried about the aftermath as before their talk. kagami’s chest can hardly contain how excited he is to get back in the game! he finds his teammates, they’re talking among themselves, having just come back from the locker room, probably. he owes them an apology for being selfish before ( but not an explanation - now is not the time ). he takes another grounding breath before raising his fist and turning back to his boyfriend.

“thanks,” he says sincerely.

“shut up,” aomine rolls his eyes and bumps his knuckles against kagami’s. “don’t let it happen again, knucklehead.” they leave to part ways when he speaks again and makes kagami turn. “hey, see you in the zone.”

kagami can’t fight the smile on his face: it’s all encompassing and apparently contagious if aomine’s newfound grin is anything to go by. “if you can keep up with me.”

his smile doesn’t fade until he’s back at the bench. he gets an earful about not being there to talk battle plans, and he wholeheartedly apologises for being too in his own head in the first half. but he’s good now. kuroko is the first to admit the visible change in kagami’s energy. he believes in him. that helps more than he’s able to admit, and kagami sends him an appreciative smile when kuroko stands up for him. they’re all on the same page now ( even if some of the information is redacted, like kagami’s reason for his hesitation ). he will make it up to his team. and this time, instead of fighting for himself and seirin, kagami will give his all for aomine’s sake, too.

and if he doesn’t win today, he won’t get to fight the other dumbass generation of miracles guys now that their heads are out of their asses! kagami’s hyped up and happy to play again. he’s almost a whole different person. when he meets aomine back on the court, they’re smiling but focused. aomine has the skill to allow for the game to be fun, but kagami’s fighting spirit takes over and the intensity returns.

they meet in the zone. it’s unforgettable.

#aokaga #aokaga fanfic #KNB #knb fanfic #yeah i tagged it ! what of it #so a/n if you will: i cant remember if they always leave the court area place at halftime. i also... didnt check......#but i hope that doesnt distract from the Mood #i meant for this to be a short prompt fic but i got carried away SJDHSJHDSJHD #kagami's mood shifts are impossible like i said i always feel like im writing badly when he goes from :) to >:( to :( to :D #3000 words SJDHJSHDSJHDJHSD ridiculous #in which aomine is a good kind and understanding boyfriend even tho he tells kagami to shut up like 80 times #jk it's 3 times ( i checked ) and i only checked bc i thought it was KAGAMI who was telling him to shut up so much #nope... just the like... once or twice #drabbles.#aokaga.#aonon.#forgot my own tags sjdhsjdhs

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vegetalass · 4 years

Note

hcs of the gang being quarantined in one big house together maybe?? 🥺 lub ur writing

i lub u, anon!!🥺 sorry this took forever!

General

Oh my godddddddddd

They had to stop doing movie nights because there was too much fighting

They tried to set it up such that everyone got a turn to pick a movie but there were still complaints

Now, movies are viewed at random and the policy is that

1. The TV is first come first serve

2. You have to announce when you’re using it

3. Anyone is allowed to join you

This has stemmed into multiple people shouting “IM WATCHING _____” at random times

And yes, people will try to hide the remote (mostly Sean)

If they can find it, that is

The lines between public and private property have been blurred. Everything must be labeled or there is a chance someone will take it

You can risk it, but it’s not recommended since they’re all dudes and will most likely eat anything

And even with your name on a box of graham crackers, there’s still a chance someone will stick their hand it in and steal a few

All the dudes walk around in their Long Johns like it’s not awkward

They have to do their own laundry so everyone is missing socks

Or they have extras

And wet laundry is constantly being left on the ground if it’s unattended and someone needs the washer

Arthur

This dude double dips

He licks the spoon and puts it back in, too

Gets yelled at a lot for this, but never remembers to stop

Everybody is afraid to touch all of the dips now because of this

And Hosea has to start buying separate ones just for Arthur

He’s the one who takes 3 hour baths

I imagine that there’s multiple bathrooms in the house but not enough for everyone so there are definitely times when people are like “WTF, Arthur you’re still in there?” or “Where’s Arthur?”

Usually it’s Charles or John because they don’t mind sharing a bathroom with each other

Cue Arthur having accidentally fallen asleep in the tub

But yea he’s just chilling in there, otherwise

Started the quarantine off by trying to fix up the house… But immediately got lazy

There’s probably a number of things he keeps saying that he’ll “get to, eventually”

The only reason Dutch hasn’t called someone is because it’s a PANDEMIC

Technologically challenged

Barely knows how to turn on the TV and still uses an iPhone 5 that has pretty much stopped working

John has given up trying to explain how to make things fullscreen on YouTube

Because of this, probably spends most of his time wandering around the yard and reading or journaling

Tilly even bought him some scrapbooking supplies, which he’s been trying to use

Little washi tapes and highlighters because she knows it can’t get too complicated too fast

She also makes him an Instagram account so he can take photos or post art

But figuring out how it works is a losing battle, and he never remembers to use it, anyway

“I think we should get a pet”

Everyone: “Arthur... Do we look like we take care of ourselves?

If anyone tries to talk about how annoying the quarantine is, starts ranting about people who refuse to take it seriously

And the conversation ends up spiraling into him blaming capitalism for everything

John

Every other meal he eats is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or Doritos

He does that thing where he wraps a bowl or plate in plastic wrap so he doesn’t have to wash it

Doesn’t clean up after himself

Leaves used tissues, slimy butter knives with PB on them, and crusty socks laying around

Unluckiest of them all

His snacks get taken the most, the bathroom is always occupied when he needs it, never gets to use the TV, his laundry is always moved, etc.

Always ends up using the bathroom when there’s no toilet paper

Texts Arthur for help and then makes an announcement in the group chat about “common courtesy”

Nobody replies

His texts are full of messages to Abigail that all say the same thing

“Help.” + “Please come get me” + “I hate it here”

They’re all left on read except for the occasional response asking if he needs anything from Target

The list he sends back is like four paragraphs long and it’s all dumb stuff

He’s like “FaceTime me when you get there, I wanna go shopping too”

Doesn’t even really want to leave the house for necessities, so he has to do stuff like water down his soaps or steal other people’s toiletries just to prolong how often he needs to go shopping for himself

He’s the one using Irish Spring from the dollar store mixed with water or a block of orange Dial soap that hasn’t been touched in five years

Charles tries to throw away an empty hand soap and John is like “THERE’S STILL SOAP IN THERE LOOK” *mixes water with it*

Steals razors and Shampoo

Thinks conditioner is “unnecessary” and “doesn’t do anything”

Complains about being bored but doesn’t bother to do the things people that people offer

Charles

Voluntarily becomes a recluse

Not because he wants to but because everyone else is too annoying to deal with

He’s forced to start using the internet and when he’s not on the computer he’s trying to block out the noise of the 8 other men he lives with just living

Going on walks is his other hobby

Also probably buys one of those adult coloring books to color

Like Athur, Charles hogs the bathroom

It’s not as bad as Arthur since he’s not in the tub for the whole time but he really will spend an hour getting ready in the morning for absolutely no reason

If anyone asks about it he just tells them that since they’re in quarantine there’s no reason to rush

But he does get yelled at if there’s no other bathrooms available

Becomes a self-care connoisseur

Walks around in a bathrobe and face mask just to try and achieve some sort of zen

Literally the only one who doesn’t walk around half naked

Besides Hosea, the one of the only guys who tries to wake up on time and eat three healthy meals a day

The house is entirely dark and he’s eating toast while Hosea makes coffee

It’s awkward, not because they’re weird about each other but because no one else is awake and it’s quiet for once

Dutch is the third person up and Charles leaves the kitchen by the time he’s around

Gave up trying to do the dishes and only cleans what he uses

Sometimes if he feels like being nice he’ll do Arthur’s dishes, too

But only if he gets something back in return, like Arthur doing his laundry or something

The only one who changes his bedsheets on the regular

Him and Kieran are the only ones trusted by Hosea to leave the house safely

Micah

Everyone is surprised Micah isn’t dead yet

Everyone is constantly fed up with him for something or for just being irritating

And try to ignore him for the most part, which is hard

Tries to defends himself with “Well, you don’t have to bother me if you don’t want to”

Doesn’t clean up after himself, either

John leaves more mess, but Micah does worse stuff

While John just leaves his dirty peanut butter knives around, Micah does stuff like forget to put the mayo back in the fridge, leave the bread bag out and open, forgets to bring his used dishes to the dishwasher, throws his trash in other people’s trash cans, leaves his wet laundry in the dryer, etc.

If it’s annoying and gross, he does it

And tries to eat food that other people have made for themselves or don’t want to share with him

Dutch is the only one who shares with him willingly

Does not pick up his hair from the bottom of the shower

And doesn’t clean the sink after he shaves

Honestly, I doubt any of the drains in the house work properly because so much shaving goes on

It’s honestly surprising to everyone that he takes the quarantine seriously

Accuses people of being sick even though all of them have barely left the house…

Wears a mask inside when he’s feeling salty

He doesn’t even care about the mask, it’s just to make people feel gross and bad about themselves

Besides Sean, he’s always trying to hog the TV

And everything he watches is annoying, pretentious, or both

Complains about there being “nothing to watch” despite always having something on and refusing to stop

Tries to smoke inside and literally always get busted for it

Even if other people are doing it too, he’s the one who doesn’t even bother to be by a window when he does it

His room is always off limits

If you need something from him you need to knock and wait in the doorway

Also does the “You’re too close… Step back, please” thing

And if anyone gets mad, says it’s a pandemic and he’s just trying to be SAFE

Mostly does this to feel powerful

Turns in to Uncle Jr. with all the complaining and berating he does

Uncle is honestly offended

Hosea

The only person allowed to do the shopping

He gave up trying to give people lists because the groceries they came back with were never right

Either too few, too many, not the right stuff... You name it

See here for more

That’s why, despite being the oldest, he’s the one who goes grocery shopping for meals twice a week

Refuses to buy alcohol because of incidents that they’ve had

Can’t stop people from sneaking it, though

Similar to Dutch in that he gets annoyed when people oversleep, but because its quarantine, he tries to not mention it, and at the worst, gets passive aggressive

Tries to make a chore chart for people to follow but it gets ignored

He ends up having to force people to do things by reminding them constantly

He’s the one who starts opening people’s doors in the morning and turning on the lights

Makes everybody start eating on paper plates with plastic silverware because he’s tired of trying to make people use the dishwasher

Arthur doesn’t know how, John doesn’t put his plates in the right place, Charles refuses to since no one else contributes to keeping it neat, Micah doesn’t even know they have one, Kieran also can’t fill it correctly...

Basically, it’s too much for Hosea to handle

His dinners are all Costco pre-made meals that can be made quickly

Frozen lasagna and prepackaged salad type stuff

He’s the guy who falls asleep on the couch sitting up while watching TV and if you try to talk to him he says “I’m awake” without opening his eyes

And if he’s using it, don’t even think about suggesting to change the channel

The answer is and always will be no

Even when he’s not really paying attention

And it’s either on the History Channel or Discovery Channel

Always complaining about how cold his feet are

Doesn’t let anyone touch the thermostat

He’s an in real life Elf on the Shelf

Dutch

If anyone, and I mean anyone starts sleeping in, he gets in a really pissy mood

“While I’m up, doing work for you, you’re sitting in bed being lazy!!!” and “What do you mean you don’t understand why! Why should I have to tell you why wasting the day is annoying to all those who are working!”

Even despite this, he can’t actually change the fact that no one wakes up on time

And it’s not like the work he’s doing for them is very important

He’s the one who thinks that a pandemic is the perfect time to be or do something useful

Eat healthy, write a book, pump iron… Anything

And when people complain about being useless he’s like “You have all this free time!!!1! Stop complaining!!! You can do anything!!!”

And if he’s doing something he considers useful, yells at people who try to bother him

Arthur: “Hosea wanted to know-”

Dutch: *doing sit ups* “CAN’T YOU SEE I’M BUSY?”

When it’s his turn to cook dinner, he’s making 8 boxes of Trader Joe’s mac and cheese in a huge pot and calling a meal

Literally the only meal no one complains about

He won’t clean the pot when it’s finished, though

Literally just cooks and leaves it out for someone else to deal with

Another self-care aficionado

Also walks around in a bathrobe and face mask

He’s worse than Charles though, because while Charles wears pants... Dutch will be booty ass naked under his

Also keeps trying to make homemade masks and scrubs and walks around in those, too

He’s like “This is a good one, I can tell already”

Everyone: “Dutch... is that... mayo... in your hair?”

Annoyingly good at monopoly

Does not invite Molly over and gets yelled at over FaceTime

Cue everyone eavesdropping on their arguments

Goes on power walks

Yells at people when they listen to loud music with swear words

Honestly, always yelling at people

“Can somebody get me my slippers? Arthur? John? Hosea? AnYoNe!!!”

Kieran

Spends the least time in the bathroom because he’s afraid of getting yelled at

Does everything in five minute increments

Except for showers, when he allows himself ten minutes

Barely

Most of what he eats is just microwave popcorn and shredded cheese

He’s the one asking people if they want to go on “family walks” with him

Literally no one joins him

Also tries to play board games with everyone

This goes a little better at least because Hosea will sometimes play and if he’s there, a few people will definitely join

Very bad at monopoly

The most conscious about wearing a mask

The others wear them but Kieran is the one who wears double masks, gloves, and carries around Febreeze

Also will get mad if anyone forgets their “safety equipment”

Or if they’re within six feet of him in public

Props to him though for staying healthy

I’ve mentioned this before, but... Spends most of his time playing games on a big tablet wearing headphones

Candy Crush and FarmVille and Words with Friends and stuff like that

Though all of his internet friends are weird old ladies he doesn’t know

Everyone is mad at him for sending non-stop game notifications, too

Hosea is the only one who responds to any of them

He’ll never admit this, though

Also tries to start doing arts and crafts

Mary-Beth started telling him about the various crafts she’s been doing, so he’s started trying to follow along, too

Things like crocheting or popsicle stick art

His stuff all looks bad, but he’s just happy to be doing it

And to be FaceTiming Mary-Beth

When he gets to choose a movie, he’s picking a “family-friendly” movie like Inside Out or Lilo and Stitch

Everyone starts out being mad but they all end up watching the whole thing without complaining

Heated debates ensue, too

For example, like about whether Flynn should’ve cut Repunzel’s hair in Tangled

“YOU’RE GONNA LOOK AT ME AND TELL ME THAT I’M WRONG?”

Charles + Arthur vs. Dutch + Bill

Makes meatloaf or Hamburger Helper like once a week

They’re basically the only thing he knows how to make

Sides with Arthur when he suggests getting a pet

Wears a Snuggie

Doesn’t change his socks

Javier

Plays his own music very loudly and won’t turn it off or down if you ask

Either that or he’s practicing guitar

It’s not really that bad but when you can’t escape it.... People get mad

The only saving grace is that the singing is usually in Spanish so it’s not as bothersome

The door to his room is always closed

Refuses to open it

To talk to him, you have to knock and then he’ll exit

Dutch is the only one allowed in and he thinks Javier’s rules about entering are creepy so never does it

Javier cooks his own food and won’t share

Only makes enough for exactly one person so even if he wanted to, there’s not enough

Eats dinner in his room to prevent people from bothering him or asking for some

However, he has the biggest stash of quarantine snacks…

No one knows where he gets them

And getting him to share is like trying to do a drug deal, but he’s not against it as long as he gets something in return

He didn’t personally cook all these snacks so the rules are different

His room is full of scented candles to make it smell better since the whole house kinda smells like Boy

Buys a gamer chair at the start of quarantine

Claims it’s more comfortable than the office chair that Dutch and Hosea chose for everyone

Everyone is jealous

Wears fuzzy pajama pants only

Sean

Sean is the one sleeping in

Never sleeps in his bed and just falls asleep wherever, basically

Usually the couch

Because he’s always snoozing, he’s the one who watches the most TV

Micah claims this isn’t “fair,” despite doing the same thing

And even if he’s not watching TV, he’s just using the couch to watch Tik Toks full volume

Tries to make his own Tik Toks, but they either stink or no one wants to participate

Constantly having people get mad at him for recording them

Stopped wearing clothes the moment quarantine started

Always in a tank top and his underpants

It’s kinda weird

People cared at first but by now they can’t be bothered to complain since they’re

1. Used to it

2. Probably start doing the same thing

Leaves his laundry laying around

Also won’t share anything he’s eating

Gets mad when people steal food

Doesn’t address anyone in particular though, just walks around yelling about how “nobody has the common decency not to steal”

Has food delivered almost every other day

No one knows where he’s getting the money from, either

Everyone think it’s a waste

Mostly because he doesn’t share, but also because all hell broke loose when Hosea found out about an expense called “delivery fees”

Also has a stick up his ass about wasting food

Started yelling about this randomly, too

If he can’t force someone else to finish leftovers, he forces himself to finish them

Probably gets caught watching a certain type of nasty video a lot

Lowkey it probably happens to everybody at least once

Yells at anti-maskers

Tries to wrestle the other boys and gets his ass handed to him

Bill

Possessive of everything

Usually he’s not this bad but being cooped up with a bunch of thieves and liars doesn’t make him confident that his Circus Animal cookies will last very long

Doesn’t share anything and very adamant about making sure there’s labels on things so nothing gets mixed up

Also makes his own space in the fridge with tape

BILL’S SPACE DO NOT TOUCH

And will start yelling in anything is moved

Not as bad as Sean though because he only cares about his own stuff

The whole thing is super hypocritical though, because he definitely steals other people’s stuff

If he gets caught, claims “it’s only fair”

Hosea has to buy him soap because he won’t buy it himself

Definitely the one who learns how to make prison hooch with cranberry juice and yeast

And the one who eats all of the ice cream

Even the nasty flavors

Wears the same clothes everyday because since he’s not working, “they’re not dirty”

They start getting holes in them, though

If anyone tries to suggest something for him to do, he gets mad and claims he “knows how to entertain himself”

Also constantly accusing people of being in his space or business

Ends up starting a ton of fights over this and then complaining about how mean everyone is to him

He’s not doing it on purpose, though

Ends up buying some kind of gaming console to pass the time

If he buys an Xbox, he shares with the rest of the boys

If he buys a nintendo switch, he starts playing Animal Crossing and doesn’t put it down for weeks

Out of everyone… He’s the one who takes the pandemic the least serious

He follows the rules because he doesn’t want to be eaten alive by any of the boys, but he probably thought the virus was a hoax at first

He learned his lesson the first time he tried to go out without a mask and got locked in the car, though

Forgets to flush the toilet

His room is dirty

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 headcanons #rdr2 headcanons #rdr2 #arthur morgan #HOPE U ENJOY ANON SORRY IM SLOW #and will probs continue to be slow #my car broke down at mcdonalds today LOL and by the time it got fixed mcdonalds WAS FUCKING CLOSED #i was so sad my mom actually ended up taking me to a different one #but they didnt have what i wanted LOL #but it was fine bc i was happy with just fries #also y'all.... my sink is fixed and let me tell u #I AM NEVER PAYING FOR A PLUMBER AGAIN #i took that bitch apart and snaked it myself #and enough hair to make a wig came out of it but she was fixed #and i saved so much money my mom bought me lunch as a reward #LOL #anyways i love u all thanks for reading hope this shows up in the tags and u like it #i hope i put enough!!#and lmk if i should republish in a new format #i keep getting scared to make a new post and not answer anon directly #oH WELL JUST CATO PROBLEMS #also went back to work and it was... fine i guess #idk #Anonymous

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blueaura · 4 years

Text

Don’t Get Caught

A/N: Hey everyone, hope y’all are doing well. I wrote this little fic one-shot thingy for @crashdevlin‘s 3k review challenge. I got prompt #13. Big congratulations to Cassie for hitting 3k followers! Hope Dean somewhat likes this fic.

Summary: Sam and Dean are hunters, but what if Y/N doesn’t want to be one?

Word count : 2.9k

“What’s for dinner tonight? If you say burgers again, I will tell Sam and then you’ll have to little with the ‘eat healthy’ lecture again.” You walked into the kitchen, peering over Dean’s shoulder to look at what he was making. “As much as I love your burgers, we’ve had them four days in a row and if I see another one today, I’m gonna actually throw up.”

“I liked it better when you didn’t snark back. Now it’s like living with teenage Sam all over again. Teenagers are the fucking worst,” Dean lightly quipped back giving you a look that confirmed he was just teasing. “And it’s chicken pasta tonight, you little monster. I can switch things up every once in a while.”

“You liked me better when I was too scared to offend you in case you threw me out?” you deadpanned, quirking an eyebrow at Dean. He gave you a look. He clearly didn’t appreciate your humour regarding your rough start with them.

You met Sam and Dean on a hunt. They were appalled that a 15-year-old was hunting alone and basically forced their way into your life. Dean, specially, refused to leave you alone, no matter how many times you pushed him away. Your parents had been hunters and not the most affectionate people, so when pushing the Winchesters away had failed and they had successfully wormed their way into your heart, you were so scared that the first real family you had was going to abandon you if you weren’t enough, you didn’t dare place a toe out of the imaginary line you had created for yourself. It took a long time for them to get you to open up to them and come out of your shell. You never knew why they chose you. From what you knew, they had met other hunter kids before but for some reason, instead of pawning you off to the first responsible adult who could keep you safe, they welcomed you into their life and their home. Your home, you reminded yourself.

“Pasta sounds great. You’re gonna make me fat with all your cooking you know. I’ll have to start running with Sam. I hate running with Sam,” you whined, changing the subject before Dean could start reprimanding you.

“Everybody hates running with Sam,” Dean said, letting go of your previous comment. “And you’re healthy, which is all that matters. I don’t want you thinking about getting fat, you do enough exercise to balance out your eating habits.”

You rolled your eyes. For a guy who claimed to hate ‘chick-flick’ moments, Dean Winchester sure initiated a whole lot of them. Dean lightly clipped you in the back of your head when he saw you shrugging of his words of wisdom. You could see he was gearing up for another lecture. He was such a dad.

“Where’s Sam anyway?”

Dean clearly knew what you were doing but he let you have your moment of victory anyway. If he had learned anything in the past 2 years with you, it was to pick his battles. So, he let it go. For now.

Sam came back in time for dinner. It was one of Dean’s new rules. If you were not on a case, dinner was family time and everyone had to eat at the table. Sam agreed. While Dean acted more like a dad than Sam, the younger Winchester was just as bad. You remembered when Sam accidentally found the pack of condoms in your room. You winced at the memory. There had been a lot of yelling, followed by an awkward conversation about being safe. It was traumatic for all parties involved and you both mutually decided not to tell Dean. If Sam overreacted, you definitely never wanted to see Dean’s reaction.

Being scared of Dean’s reaction was one of the main reasons why you didn’t tell him about the play you were taking part in for school. Yes, you had to go to school. Apparently, high school was important. While you hated school and people in general, you fell in love with theatre. Signing up for drama club had been a blessing for you. Pretending to be someone else and telling stories and being on stage was the only thing that got you through worrying about the brothers when they were out on hunts. But you knew you had to be a hunter. It was the family business after all. So, you never told Sam or Dean what you were doing.

You knew they were getting suspicious. The practices for the play were getting more intense and you could only use the excuse of having detention or staying back to study in the library so many times. For one, they knew that after five consecutive detentions, the school called the parents or guardians, and B – they knew how much you hated school. Just the fact that you were staying a minute more than you had to was a big red flag, specially when you had a perfectly good library at the bunker.

You still had to think of an excuse about going out at night on the final day. While the dress rehearsal was in the afternoon, the actual production was late in the evening and you knew there was no way you could sneak out of the bunker.

While you were pacing in your room trying to think of ideas, the brothers were contemplating your recent behaviour in the kitchen while they did the dishes.

“I don’t know man; she’s been shifty all week. I’m starting to get the feeling she wants us out of the bunker. She keeps bringing up every possible lead for a case. When was the last time Y/N purposely looked for a potential hunt? She hates being left alone. Something’s going on.”

Sam knew Dean was right. This was unusual behaviour for you. Even when you were mad at them, you never hid things. Coupled with all your lame-ass excuses for staying back at school, Sam had a feeling Dean was onto something.

“You don’t think something’s off at school, do you?”

Sam knew all about peer pressure. He also knew Y/N was extremely strong willed but so was he and he still got roped into smoking weed in college. Not that he thought Y/N would ever get into drugs, specially the heavy kind but there was always the niggling sensation at the back of his head going ‘what if?’.

“She would have told us if there was something bothering her,” Sam tried to sound confident but he could hear the uncertainty in her own voice.

Dean paused where he was drying the dishes, looked over at his brother and decided enough is enough.

“Here’s the thing – there’s trusting someone and just being plain stupid. Y/N is definitely hiding something and I’d rather she be mad at us for invading her privacy than regret not stepping in sooner. So, seeing how she desperately wants us out of the bunker next week, we’re going to go out of the bunker. Find a fake case Sammy, we’re going fake hunting.” Dean managed a nonchalant grin as he went back to his dishes. Sam contemplated for a moment and reluctantly agreed.

It was 2 days before the play and you still hadn’t figured out how to sneak out. You contemplated telling them you had a sleepover or a party to get to but they knew you well enough to know you didn’t get along with your classmates. If only you could dumb yourself down enough to socialise with them. You sighed and mindlessly browsed through the men of letters library.

“Hey kiddo, we found a hunt a couple of towns over. Looks like a simple salt n’ burn. You gonna be okay on your own for a couple of days?” Sam’s voice jerked you back to reality and when you registered what he was saying, you barely managed to keep yourself from squealing out loud.

Your giddiness must have been obvious as Sam and Dean shared one of those looks – the ones you hated – and asked you if you were alright.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. And yes, I’ll be good by myself. When are you guys leaving?”

If they had any second thoughts about their plan before, your answer just got rid of them. You were never this excited about a hunt and you always, always asked about every little detail.

“We’re probably gonna leave tonight, drive overnight to avoid the traffic. So, I for one am gonna catch some zee’s while I can. Unlike Disney princess hair over here, I won’t be getting sleep on the road.”

“You know that wouldn’t be a problem if you’d let me drive for a change!”

“Hell no, I ain’t listening to your classical crap.”

You shook your head at their antics as they walked away. Finally, things were going your way.

Things were not going your way. The brothers had left the previous evening (although they didn’t go far, but you didn’t have to know that). The day of the play had arrived and you were already nervous when you heard that the male lead was sick and his understudy had to step in. You hated him. He was one of those cocky high school boys who thought they were the shit. You had to reluctantly admit that at least the guy wasn’t the worst actor in the world. Although, if he kept hitting you with his cheesy pickup lines, you were going to stab him. Hard.

Dean and Sam spent the night at a motel before making their way back to the bunker after you’d left for school. After taking a quick shower and grabbing fresh clothes, the brothers took one of the more inconspicuous cars in the bunker basement and parked outside the school. They knew you would recognise the Impala immediately but you’d never really been interested in the other cars, much to Dean’s dismay.

“Never thought we’d be staking out Y/N,” Dean said wryly.

“Well, at least everything is normal for now. Maybe we were wrong and she’s just being a teenager you know.”

Dean doubted it but didn’t say anything. They waited for Y/N to come out when school finally ended but she never did. Sam even scoped out where the stoner kids were and she wasn’t there, much to his relief. Finally, Y/N came out 3 hours after school ended, looking extra tired but otherwise alright. The brothers shared a confused glance but sighed in relief. At least she wasn’t doing anything illegal.

You went straight home and fell asleep to recharge before your performance tonight. You got up in the evening, one hour before you had to be at school to calm your nerves.

Sam and Dean were confused. Y/N had done what she would normally do on any other day. Maybe she stayed in school for a longer time than usual but other than that, she didn’t do anything out of the ordinary.

Dean suddenly had a horrifying thought.

“Dude, if this whole thing is about a boy, I’m gonna actually kill her.”

Before Sam could reply, they saw Y/N leaving the bunker.

“It’s late. Where the hell is she going? And what the hell is she wearing?” Dean’s voice grew more incredulous with each question. “If she’s sneaking out to a party, I’m grounding her. I don’t care how old she is.”

They followed her without being seen. To the school? What the hell?

There was a lot of buzz at the school despite the late hour. Confused, the brothers got out of their car and followed Y/N inside, making sure to stay a few feet behind her.

“Is it just me or are there a lot of adults here?” Dean asked.

Then they saw the poster outside the hall Y/N had just entered. Rock Hills presents ‘West Side Story: the musical’. Sam stood there gaping at the poster and Dean had never been more confused in his life.

“What the hell?”

“I don’t know”

“Seriously. What the hell?”

“I don’t know!”

“Come on. Let’s go in,” Sam nudged his brother in the direction that the other parents were going.

The host said something about the show starting in 5 minutes but they ignored him and made their way backstage. They located Y/N quite easily. She was standing in a corner, mentally psyching herself. They made their way towards her and gently tapped her on the shoulder.

You were just minding your own business in the corner of the room before the show, going through the whole spiel of ‘why did I do this’ and ‘holy shit I’m gonna throw up’ when you felt a hand tap your shoulder. Startled, you jumped and turned around to glare at whoever disturbed you, when you froze. Sam and Dean were staring at you incredulously and had your legs been working you would probably have hightailed out of there.

“Fuck,” you softly exclaimed under your breath.

“Something you wanna share with the class kiddo?”

You couldn’t make out the exact emotion in Dean’s voice but it didn’t sound like anger. You held onto that and realised you had to be on stage in less than sixty seconds.

“Uhm, hold that thought,” was what you said instead. You went to peek through the curtain. Yep, 45 seconds.

“I love you! No time to explain – gotta go!”

With that you rushed on stage, more terrified than ever. That melted away once you started performing though. You forgot all about your worries for the duration of the play. You acted, sang and danced your heart out and when the thundering applause reached your ears and you saw the brothers in the audience cheering you on along with everyone else, you had a feeling it would be okay.

You were backstage again, taking off your stage make-up and gearing up to go face the music as it were. You were scared of the brother’s reaction and even you could tell you were procrastinating. Most of the other cast had left and it was time for you to leave too.

They were standing outside, leaning against a car. The first thing that stupidly came out of your mouth was – “Where’s baby?”

Dean laughed. A full belly laugh. You felt some of your anxiety leave your body.

The three of you looked at each other. Sam was the first one to make a move. He pulled you in for a tight hug, almost lifting your feet off the ground, kissing the top of your head.

“You were incredible, kiddo.”

You buried yourself into his chest as your eyes filled with tears of relief. Of acceptance.

“Thanks moose,” Your reply was muffled against his chest which moved with silent laughter at the nickname.

You finally pulled away from Sam when Dean cleared his throat. He looked at you blankly for a moment and dread filled your entire being.

“You ever pull something like this again, I will kick your ass.”

For a second you thought he was talking about the play and your heart dropped.

But then he pulled you into a hug too. You tensed, confused.

“Dammit kid, I don’t like being worried about you. Stop doing shit like this. Why the hell didn’t you just tell us you were taking part in this thing? You’re not nearly as good at the hiding thing as you think you are. I was terrified something shady was going on with you.”

Although he was almost yelling in your ear, you sagged against him as the tension seeped out of your body. This time you actually did start crying. Dean just hugged you tighter and Sam gently rubbed your back.

After a few minutes Dean pulled back a little and put both hands on either side of your head.

“You never have to hide anything from us. By now I like to think I know how your mind works and I can guarantee that I will never be mad at you if you want to pursue anything other than hunting. You’re not our kid because you’re a hunter Y/N/N. You’re family, regardless of your job. Clearly I’m not doing a very good job at this parenting thing if you don’t know that already.”

You furiously shook your head, hiding your face in his shirt again.

“You’re the best dad anyone could ask for. You both are.”

Your words were barely audible and your face was extremely red but the brothers still heard you and grinned at each other over your head.

“We love you too, kiddo.” Dean kissed your forehead and started walking towards the car, pulling you along.

“What do you say we get some ice cream and celebrate at the bunker? We could watch some movies, make some popcorn? You know what I’m in the mood for Sammy? West Side Story,” Dean grinned as you groaned into his shoulder.

The brothers continued to tease you as you walked to the car. You finally felt happy.

“But seriously guys, where is baby?”

#supernatural #spn fanfiction #cassies3kreviewchallenge #dean winchester #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader #sam x reader #dean x reader #Cee tries to write

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bloody-britt26 · 4 years

Note

(Older) Bede x Pregnant! Champion! Reader maybe 🥺

Um... yes!? I'm so weak for pregnancy fluff! 🥺

🌸 Pregnant with Bede's child 🌸

• The moment that you discovered that you are pregnant with Bede's child, you had so many emotions coursing through your mind.

• Happiness, of course! The thought of adorable little Mini Bedes running around brought the biggest smile on your face.

• However, there was fear. You were afraid that Bede would be mad or upset. You couldn't fathom the idea of Bede leaving you, you love him with all of your heart.

• You also felt a bit of worry. If Bede were to be as happy as you, would you be able to properly care for the child? Not to toot your horn, but money was far from being the issue. It was a concern regarding time. With you being the champion, and Bede being a gym leader, would you be able to take care of the child? Would you be able to balance everything?

• So, needless to say, you were beyond nervous to break the news to Bede. Your heart was racing and you couldn't stop fidgeting. You had to fight back your tears. You couldn't help it; there was that little voice at the back of your head, telling you that everything was going to go horribly wrong.

• When you told Bede, he froze. For once in his life, he was at a loss for words. He could only stand there, wide-eyed with his mouth gaping. He couldn't bring himself to fire a snarky comment. He was absolutely speechless.

• At the sight of his reaction, your heart broke, thinking that it was a negative response.

• But then, the faintest of blushes had tinted his cheeks, he was biting his lip and you had noticed that his eyes seemed to be glossy.

• Of course, as soon as you had noticed his tear-filled eyes, he gazed down at his lap to avoid your gaze, taking a few breaths as if trying to regain his composure.

• That's when the smallest smile cracked. It was beyond him at that point, Bede couldn't even attempt to mask his emotions.

• Him? A father? Bede already feels like the luckiest man in the world to be blessed with the best woman by his side, and now, he is going to father your child? It was all so overwhelming to him.

• How in the world did he even deserve all of this? By Arceus, Bede is well aware of how horrible of a person he was to you and your friends before Opal took him in. Even today, he is still a snarky and prideful person, he's hard to deal with and he most likely gives you many headaches.

• When you cuddle up to his body at night, tenderly kiss his lips or tell him just how much you love him, that he's your world, he can't help but wonder what the hell he's done to deserve a second chance from you.

• And now, you are going to have his child. Not only are you giving him the love, touch and support that he's been craving his entire life, but you are also going to give him a family. Something that he's never truly had. Something that he could only dream of when he was a child himself.

• He was so happy that he didn't know how to react, what to say. The only thing he could do was take you in his arms, resting his head in the crook of your neck, shyly muttering how happy and thankful he was.

• It was such a big relief to you, so much weight had been lifted from your shoulders that you couldn't help but let happy tears flow.

• The few days that came after the announcement, Bede had a few fears regarding his future as a father. What if the child doesn't like him? What if he's a terrible father? And, he had the same worries as you regarding time. Will he be able to take care of you and his child while being a gym leader?

• You had to reassure him countless times that he was going to be okay, that you are sure that he will be a good father. It may take some getting used to, but you trust that he will adapt.

• In the end, you figured that your family is more important than sponsors and interviews, and although you love meeting with fans, you are sure that they will understand that you will need to dedicate your time to your growing family. However, that doesn't mean that you are going to throw the towel on your champion title.

• As for Bede, sure he has challengers, but at the end of the day, he's all yours. Some days are slower than others, so he will be able to be home with you while remaining the Ballonlea gym leader.

• Plus, you have many friends and family members who will gladly offer to babysit, should you need it.

• After the initial "Holy crap I'm going to be a dad" thought settled in, Bede's pride and ego inflated, if that's even possible.

• "The champion, the strongest woman in all of Galar, the most amazing woman in the world, is pregnant with my child. That's right, I, Bede, got the champion, who is my woman, pregnant!"

• Bede was already rather protective, and even possessive of you at times, but that has doubled ever since you got pregnant.

• It was as if a switch had flipped inside of him. His demeanour is comparable to that of an alpha male, protecting his territory from others.

• Bede has absolutely no trouble flaunting and boasting about your relationship and sending death glares to people who are getting rather flirty with you. Of course, Bede can't help sending the offender a cocky victory smirk whenever you lean against him or voice your massive disinterest because you're spoken for.

• You both had agreed to publicly announce that you are expecting. It was going to be noticed sooner or later, so you may as well be forward.

• Of course, the whole region was hyped. And yes, the media was all over you, which was a massive annoyance as the reporters often asked very personal questions.

• Of course, Bede was having none of it and had gotten the media off of your back with some good ol' Bede attitude.

• As mentioned, you haven't stopped battling. You're still extremely lively and bouncy during battles. And yes, you still stand in front of your huge, dynamax pokémon.

• This behavior of yours gives Bede mini heart attacks everytime you stand on the pitch, which gets worse and worse as you get further into your pregnancy.

• You often get scolded by Bede to settle the hell down! Of course, you tease him a lot about his protectiveness, which always results in your lover huffing in embarrassment.

• You often have to remind him that you're pregnant, not dying.

• You love to playfully tease Bede, saying that you would like your child to have his good looks and your personality as it would be chaos to have little piles of attitude running around.

• Bede is legitimately afraid of your mood swings. He can barely handle a normal person, so how the hell is he supposed to handle his girlfriend who's emotionally all over the place?!

• His answer is usually food. He'll dump a bunch of your favourite snacks on you in hopes that you'll spare him.

• Bede doesn't mind whatever gender the baby ends up being, but he kind of wants a little girl.

• Bede has a very strong opinion on the design of the nursery. In fact, Bede took it upon himself to paint the nursery pink, blue and purple, decorating it in a bunch of pokémon dolls of your team and his. In the end, he has an eye for aesthetics, so he did a wonderful job with it.

• Bede often traces little patterns on your belly when you're cuddling and when he hugs you, he often puts one of his hands on your belly.

• At one point, you were resting your eyes on your couch. Bede thought you were asleep and so, he nuzzled your belly, cooing and talking to your unborn baby. It was the most adorable thing you've ever heard.

• Of course, you keep that to yourself. You wouldn't want to fluster your poor tsundere too much... yet.

#pokemon imagines #fanfic #requests #bede x reader #bede x female reader #female reader #reader insert #pokemon headcanons #pokemon shield #pokemon sword #pokemon #adult bede #adult bede x reader

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sebastianshaw · 4 years

Conversation

RP meme from "Chapter Four: Aspects and Renown" in The World of Darkness Ratkin Breedbook

"What you can actually do is far more important."

"The experience is little more than a challenging contract to prove one’s mettle."

"Not everyone can stand so much isolation and seclusion."

"Along the way, they work whatever scams and schemes they can to survive."

"After all, mavericks are known just as much for their quick wits as their stealth and subterfuge."

"Some do this to escape lives they cannot stand; others quest for ideals they may never achieve."

"If there’s a great place nearby to find food, adventure, or perils that threaten the young, a wise scout or spy will find them quickly."

"Relationships on the road are temporary and superficial."

" A scout or wanderer who hasn’t seen an old friend or lover in years immediately picks up the relationship exactly where it left off."

"Each year, they move from city to city, use and discard temp jobs like old clothes, and evolve a series of personas for different situations."

"Not all of them are impoverished and homeless; as long as you know where to find crash space, you’re never really helpless."

"They are fascinated by places inhabited by other creatures, especially humans."

"Some are smart enough to emulate the people they live near; others come up with bizarre explanations to explain human activity."

"Instead of a straightforward military report on the strength of predators in the area, the data must be condensed into a format even a small child could understand."

"When problems with the physical world grow too great, it’s tempting to just vanish into the ephemeral realms for a while."

"These alternate identities aren’t very flashy, just the sort of quiet identity that no one questions."

"It can also draw attention from police officers, irate merchants, and hostile humans."

"This isn’t my world. I just hide in it. If you’re looking for a place to run, talk to me."

"This isn’t my world. I just hide in it."

"If you’re looking for a place to run, talk to me."

"Seers are the keepers of ancient secrets."

"A human is still a human, and can never be trusted."

"Just because they’re victims doesn’t mean they’re virtuous; they’ll still rip you off when you least expect it."

"They seek wisdom the human race has discarded or left behind."

"They make their lairs in areas where the police fear to go, where the only law in both physical and spirit worlds is survival."

"Her body remains in the physical world; her spirit watches what transpires around it in the spirit world."

"You worry about fighting what you can see. I’ll worry about fighting what you can’t see."

"If they feel strongly enough, they will enforce their beliefs as they best see fit."

"Unfortunately, when passing judgment on their own kind, they have restraints placed on their activities."

"These harsh practices have millennia of precedent."

"They reason that it’s better to have a few small, secure ratholes to hide your equipment and yourself than to go to the trouble of defending a larger turf."

"Many secretly enjoy “pronouncing sentence” on anyone who offends them thoroughly enough."

" Justice is far more important. . . and unfortunately, far more subjective."

"Most know they can’t change the world by openly practicing violence; if anything, they’ve got to be really secretive about their revenge."

"Epic carnage is best left to less sophisticated creatures."

"The threat of one of the local politicians getting killed is usually enough to dissuade them from disagreeing any further."

"They do not disguise themselves when pursuing an assassination, as they will not apologize for what they do best."

"We had a contract. You broke it. Now I’m going to make your life a living hell."

"When rage flows freely, violence reigns."

"Some have the wisdom to choose their battles carefully; others don’t care who dies when battle lust seizes them."

"Peace is nothing more than a temporary cessation of the ways of war."

"Developing martial skill involves far more than just killing things — sometimes it involves crippling them, weakening them, or demoralizing them.

"These soldiers don’t just slay; they also use their knowledge of chaos to confuse their enemies, striking in the night when madness reigns."

"All of them pride themselves on discipline and composure. . . until rage overwhelms reason."

"Warriors of both sexes are mildly insecure, and feel the need to show off their martial prowess."

"What? Just because you’ve got an army surplus jacket and a pipe bomb, that makes you a man?"

"Any fool can pull a trigger."

"Saving the world requires true warriors."

"Technology isn’t evil, after all. It’s just in the wrong paws."

"Many are convinced that if they don’t watch their actions carefully, someone from a local laboratory will capture them and experiment on them to find out why they’re so smart."

"Wherever technology thrives, these rats will move in to scavenge it."

"Humans have a fetish about continually acquiring more stuff, newer stuff and cutting-edge state-of-the-art tech."

"The struggle begins with fierce discussions about technological innovations, and rapidly breaks down into name calling and slander."

"Two machines enter; one machine leaves."

"Whether they tinker with ancient computers or rusting cars, they have an insatiable need to fix anything that’s considered unsalvageable."

"Sometimes, she’ll spend the whole day collecting knickknacks just to see what she can build out of them that evening."

"Genius has its price."

"Each one has a physiological trait that identifies him as the gene freak he is."

"Dark powers tutor them in forgotten arts of destruction."

"He’ll be deposed by forces he’s summoned up, but can’t put down."

"Turn your head and cough. Oooh! I’ve never seen it that color before."

"Not all of them are swashbuckling heroes, but all of them are delusional about their origins and their heroic prowess."

"The conflict of egos can become so intense that bystanders get hurt from the fallout."

"Dueling etiquette demands satisfaction."

"Anyone who hears this tale will swear that it is true."

"My good sir, adventure is my middle name!"

"What? You don't believe me?"

"Keep her pointed in the right direction, and she’ll masterfully eliminate your enemies."

"If you’re not careful, she’ll blow up right in your face."

"Any place populated by the desperate, frustrated or down-and-out is another good choice — not only does it make for a good place to hide, but it has its share of potential allies seeking vengeance. . . or potential victims at which to vent your anger."

"They’ll need a really powerful common enemy to unite them; otherwise, each will suspect the other of conspiracy."

"Many come from criminal backgrounds, broken homes, abject poverty or the sort of banal borderline existence that breeds cynicism and contempt for just about everyone."

"Each one has a surprising degree of truth to it."

"It controls all forces of order."

"The balance of the world will not be restored until we destroy everything that smells of stasis, stability or the status quo."

"Hey, nobody saw me do anything. Besides, he had it coming. . . he pissed me off. What? You talking to me? You talking to me?"

"Hey, nobody saw me do anything. Besides, he had it coming. . . he pissed me off."

"Hey, nobody saw me do anything."

"Besides, he had it coming. . . he pissed me off."

"What? You talking to me? You talking to me?"

"You want a piece of me?"

"Chant the creed, kid, and learn. . ."

"I shall seek revenge against those who prey upon my kind."

"I will survive so that I may breed."

"I must respect strength and exploit weakness."

"I shall grow stronger through conflict."

"I will learn from the mysteries of the spirit world."

"I will revel in the visions the spirits grant me."

"I shall nurture, instruct and aid the young."

"I will trust my own kind before I trust outsiders."

"When someone is responsible for injustice, I will make sure someone pays."

"Legality is a subjective concept at best."

"Fighting to survive is difficult enough."

"What else could heal the world?"

"They’re doomed to self-destruct."

"The day that the buildings come crashing down, I’ll dance in the streets."

"Survival comes first."

"Mankind’s days are numbered."

"The strong breed. The weak die. Does that sound harsh? That’s evolution."

"Instinct will tell you when to kill, so follow it."

"We need an army to overwhelm our enemies."

"I still do not know if this is wise."

"If only the strong breed, then you must prove your strength before you can reproduce."

"Don’t be some addle-witted wharf rat who breeds with any half-dead body in the sewers. You, soldier, are the paragon of your race."

"Such egotism!"

"That is nature's way."

"That is nature’s way. If the population of creatures in any one area is too high, a few can be killed or a great number will starve."

“Property is relative. If I can take it, it’s mine. If you can’t defend it, you don’t deserve to have it."

"They buy far more than they need, go to great lengths to defend what they have, and insist that they have the right to determine who owns what."

"If you own more than you can carry, you’re wasting what others can use."

"Betray others before you betray your own kind."

"We’re running into the world together, kid, so we’ve got

to stick together. You ready to go? Um. . . you first. . .”

"You ready to go? Um. . . you first. . .”

"We’re running into the world together, kid, so we’ve got

to stick together."

"I just feel this rage in my blood that’s been there since the dawn of time. And I just feel like acting on it."

"Show me your true face, and it’s my call whether I want to slash it off."

#rp memes #rp meme #rp starters #roleplay meme #roleplay memes #roleplay starters #ratkin #world of darkness #werewolf the apocalypse #out of shirt #okay to reblog #will answer in morning

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starshine583 · 4 years

Text

Le Paon Part 4

(Here’s another part of the Le Paon AU! Tell me what you think and if you want more!)

Part 1 / Part 3 / Part 5

Felix didn’t bother hiding his scowl as he marched straight to his father’s office. Sitting in a room with nothing but the monotone voice of underpaid teachers blandly explaining things he’d mastered at the age of five gave him plenty of time to stew about the events of today’s akuma.

Adrien, smartly, didn’t question his intentions, instead quietly shuffling for the stairs.

Nathalie, foolishly, stood in front of the door, arching her brow.

“You’re father’s busy right now, Fe-”

“Can it, Sancoeur. I’m not in the mood.” He grit, pushing right past her and ripping the door open.

Gabriel stared down at his computer screen, unblinking, no doubt sketching another design that would look to be inspired from a trash bin.

Felix curled his hands into fists. The man didn’t so much as glance his way! Did he even care about what happened?

“What was that!” He yelled.

Gabriel looked at him then, a sharpness in his eyes that made Felix falter for only a moment.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

Felix rolled his eyes with a scoff. “Adrien’s out of range so drop it. You nearly killed at least half a dozen people today, me included!”

Gabriel sighed- as if he was the one being outrageous! “I can’t predict where the akumas rampage. If you’re so distressed about it, though, I’ll try to steer them clear of you next time.”

“Forget about the akuma getting to the school!” As annoying as that was. “We almost killed people today!”

As far as he knew, they probably did kill somebody. “I thought this was supposed to be about the miraculous.”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “It is, but sacrifices must be made, Felix.”

Felix opened his mouth to argue, but Gabriel held up his hand to silence him.

“When we get the Ladybug miraculous, everything will be fixed. In the meantime, Ladybug has her ‘miraculous cure’,” A smirk- unsettling, at that -crossed his lips as he gestured to Felix’s chest, “As you’ve seen today.”

Felix tensed, his hand instinctively coming up to touch the previously healed injury from the fight. “How did you..”

“I see what my akuma sees. I knew everything that happens during the battle.” Something in his tone sounded sinister to Felix. He couldn’t decide if the statement was a threat or simply new information.

“What about Adrien?” He asked next. His little brother might be a bit more naive, but he wasn’t stupid. They couldn’t keep this a secret from him forever. What happened if he found out first? What would he assume? What would he do?

“He will know when the time is right.” Gabriel answered, turning back to his screen. “Now go finish your homework before your brother gets suspicious.”

Felix bit back a snarky response, spinning on his heel and leaving as told. He made sure to send Nathalie an overly cold glare on his way out, which she returned with an ever-so-faint smirk. Gosh, he couldn’t stand that woman, acting so high and mighty simply because she worked for Gabriel Agreste when in reality she was only a brainless- and infatuated, apparently -puppet who scrambled after his every word. Disgusting.

He opened his bedroom door, and a flash of black zipped by. Felix blinked, reaching up to rub his eyes. Did the lights just black out for a second? Or was he seeing things now? This better not be a miraculous effect.

“Oh, hey, Fe. Done with Father already?” Adrien asked, taking Felix from his thoughts.

“I only had a few questions to ask him.” He replied, hanging up his bag and turned slightly, just enough for Adrien not to notice Duusu flying into his vest pocket.

“Huh. I thought you’d take longer than that. You looked pretty mad.”

Felix shrugged, passing the room to lounge on the couch.

He rolled his eyes when he caught a glimpse of Adrien’s computer screen. “You’re reading that tabloid?”

Adrien swiveled around in his wheely-chair, clicking the “minus” button on the Ladyblog. “It’s not a tabloid, Felix. All information on the Ladyblog is fact checked and straight from the heroes.”

Felix scoffed, settling on the couch with his book. As if any reporter would ever be that genuine. People who went into that business were nothing more than talent-less idiots desperate for a scrap of fame.

“Come on, you don’t want to know about Paris’ heroes?”

“No.” He knew enough about them already, like the fact that Ladybug’s insecure despite being more than capable of her job, and that she probably hated his guts after what he did that morning.

Adrien sighed and turned back to his computer screen. “Well, I think they’re cool. Sucks that the Le Paon guy turned out to be a jerk.”

Felix sat up at that, nearly dropping his book on the floor. “What did you say?”

“Oh, you’re interested now?” Adrien retorted, rolling back to show him the computer.

An image of his alter ego clearly kicking Ladybug in the chest resided on the screen, and Felix winced. Adrien kept scrolling, revealing picture after picture of their fight. Who took these? How did he not notice a random citizen taking his photo?

The horrifying collection ended with a video of Alya Cessaire talking with none other than the citizen he saved from The Constructor’s wrecking ball.

~Yeah, I guess he saved me, but who’s to say he wasn’t the reason I was in danger in the first place?~

Note to self: Maybe we should just let the civilians fend for themselves. Felix thought bitterly, though he knew they had a point. It’s hard to appreciate someone saving you when that someone is also the cause of your peril.

“I heard he even tricked Ladybug into thinking he was a hero before trying to take her miraculous. How can someone be so cruel?” Adrien said, shaking his head.

“Well, neither of us were there.” Felix found himself saying. “Maybe we don’t have the whole story.”

Like their mother currently laying underneath their mansion in an incurable coma, and the possibility of her being saved if the two miraculous were brought together.

Adrien furrowed his eyebrows. “Fe, he lured her into a false sense of trust for his own personal gain. Only a villain would do something like that.”

You don’t have to remind me. He mentally groaned. The way Adrien talked made Le Paon sound like some sort of monster. Maybe he was.

“I suppose.”

“Hey, what’s up with you today?” Adrien frowned. “You’re normally the ‘logical’ one here.”

Felix pulled a small smile. “I’ve been preoccupied is all, adjusting to school life and all of that.”

Adrien hummed. “I guess that makes sense. Anyway, since you’re in a talking mood, what do you think about Chat Noir? He’s pretty awesome isn’t he?”

Felix tisked, rubbing his side. He remembered the blonde’s staff more than the hero himself. “A good fighter, I’ll give him that, but he’s also reckless. He doesn’t think things through when he attacks.”

Adrien sputtered, obviously trying to find an argument for the statement.

“I- you -I thought you said you didn’t pay attention to the heroes.” He finally replied with crossed arms. Why did he look so offended?

“I don’t. It’s just an observation.” Felix stated, picking up his book to resume reading.

“Whatever.” Adrien grumbled, turning back to the computer.

Felix rose a brow, but didn’t bother questioning the shift in mood. Adrien was the one that asked about his opinion. If he didn’t like it, then that was his problem.

~~~~~~

“Did you guys see the pictures?” Claude asked eagerly, throwing his bag on the desk.

Felix sighed and closed his book. There was no point in trying to read when Claude started one of his stories.

“The pictures on the Ladyblog?” Allan guessed.

“Yeah! Credit to the awesome cameraman, of course.” The brunette grinned, straightening with pride.

“Claude, are you sure you should be that close to the fight? Someone almost got crushed yesterday.” Allegra frowned as she sat down next to Allan.

Claude scoffed and waved his hand. “That’s what makes it interesting. Besides, I can’t let Alya down. Who else could get those awesome camera angles?”

“Well, there’s-”

“No one. That’s who.” Claude interrupted, placing his hands on his hips.

Felix rolled his eyes. “Was there a point to this conversation?”

“Oh, yeah. Did you hear about Le Paon yesterday? What a jerk!”

Felix resisted the urge to face palm. He should have known better than to ask.

“I watched the video, but I didn’t understand what happened. They say the blue guy from yesterday was a villain?” Allan asked.

“Le Paon and yes, he’s a villain working with Hawkmoth. Rumor has it that Ladybug thought he was a hero at first. Can you believe that? Tricking someone into believing you’re good just to literally kick them down? Even Felix isn’t that heartless!” Claude huffed.

Thank goodness the others were too invested in Claude to see Felix twitch. He couldn’t get a break could he? I mean, he deserved every word, but that didn’t make it any less aggravating. Was everyone going to remind him of his rash decisions this week?

Allegra hummed, setting her chin on the back of her hand with an amused smile. “Someone more heartless than Felix? That is interesting. Maybe you should make a blog about Le Paon instead.”

“As if. A blog about Le Paon would never be popular.” Claude replied matter-of-factly.

Allegra narrowed her eyes. “And how would you know?”

“Um, do you see any Le Paon blogs? Have you heard of any?” Claude continued before she could answer. “No. No, you haven’t. Case in point.”

“Maybe no one’s thought of it yet?” Allan spoke up.

Claude threw him a light-hearted glare. “Don’t side with her.”

Felix, for once, nodded in agreement. Alya and Claude were bad enough without Allegra and whoever she’d drag along on the scene. It was just more people to save and keep out of trouble, more distractions to keep him from Ladybug and Chat Noir.

“You know what, Claude? You’re on. I accept your challenge.” Allegra decided.

“What?” Felix and Claude asked in unison. Challenge? What challenge? Nobody initiated a challenge!

“I’m gonna make a blog for Le Paon, and you’re gonna sit there and watch the views skyrocket.” She stated, a determined gleam coming to her eyes.

Felix sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. How did he not see this coming? It’s only his luck that these three would inconvenience him in both his civilian and his miraculous life.

“That takes a lot of work, you know. You have to set up the account, find someone for the footage, work out names and contacts. Not to mention listing all of the sources..” He listed off, hoping to dissuade her.

Unfortunately, his words only fanned the flames.

“Oh, so you’re doubting me too?” She asked, raising a brow.

“I simply-”

“No, I understand.” Allegra cut him off. “You guys don’t think I can make Le Paon a hit because he had a bad first impression.”

“I didn’t say that.” Allan said, somewhat sheepishly.

The blonde smiled, leaning forward to pat him on the head. “I know you didn’t. You’re safe.”

Allan blew out a sigh of relief and went back to his music.

“Anyway, I’ll be waiting for an apology when my blog drives Claude’s into the ground.”

Felix rolled his eyes. So this was really happening. Wonderful. Perhaps Father could persuade some of the akumas to give the reporters a free pass?

Claude scoffed. “Oh- oh, I see how it is. I was just gonna let you do whatever, but fine. May the best blogger win.”

Allegra stood, narrowing her eyes with determination. “Don’t worry. I will.”

~~~~~~

Marinette stared down at the screen, a frown tugging at the corner of her lips. What’s the nicest way to say “No” to someone?

“I don’t know, Allegra..”

“Come on, Nette, please.” The blonde pleaded. “Alya has a cameraman for her blog, and I need to out-do her.”

“Why me?” Seriously, why did it have to be her? Why not Allan? Or Felix? Or anyone else who didn’t have a miraculous and a crucial responsibility to protect Paris.

“You’re an artist, which means you have an eye for the best angles and such.” Allegra explained.

“I’m not that kind of artist.” Marinette sighed. “What about Nathaniel?”

You know, someone who actually knows a thing or two about angles?

“He’s too scared to run into the action with me. You’re the only one I’ve seen run towards an akuma fight aside from Alya and Claude!”

Marinette grimaced under Allegra’s puppy-like gaze. There was a reason she ran into those fights! A very important reason that couldn’t be pushed to the side because of something Claude said earlier!

Her eyes flicked to the phone again, looking over the blue and purple-themed blog that had “Birds of a Feather” at the top. Honestly, why would Allegra even want to make a blog about Le Paon? He’s nothing but a manipulative liar who only cares about himself.

Allegra waited patiently for her reply, though Marinette knew she wasn’t going to back down if her answer was “no”. If anything, she’d either continue to bug her or find another cameraman to get herself killed with.

“I’ll think about it.” She finally relented, ignoring the thump of her purse against her leg. At the very least, she might be able to steer Allegra out of the akuma’s grasp.

Allegra grinned and threw her arms around Marinette. “Thanks a ton! You won’t regret it, promise!”

Marinette chuckled, hugging Allegra back. Tikki’s lecture was already playing through her mind. “You shouldn’t put yourself in complicated situations like this. You’re responsibility as Ladybug always needs to come first. At worst, you lied to your friend about being able to make time for her.”

In her defense, it’s not like she could just decline. Everyone knows that when Allegra’s mind is set, there’s no changing it. If she wanted Marinette to be her camerawoman, then that’s what was going to happen, whether it took Allegra constantly asking or “conveniently” finding her during akuma fights and throwing her the phone. That could jeopardize her secret identity. So, when you think about it, she had to help Allegra.

At least, that’s what Marinette told herself during the walk home.

“Marinette, You forgot to do the dishes last night.” Her mother commented as she opened the front door to the bakery.

Marinette winced. “Ah, sorry Maman. I’ll go do them now.”

Sabine gave her a fond smile and nodded. “There’s a bowl of fruit on the dining room table to snack on while you work on your homework afterwards.”

Marinette kissed her on the cheek with a “thanks!” and headed upstairs. She’d start on the dishes as soon as she let Tikki out of her bag in her room.

Pushing open her trap door, Marinette gently set her bag to the side and climbed the ladder. Tikki flew out of the unzipped top, fixing her with a displeased look as she pulled out her laptop.

“Marinette, you know better than to make promises you can’t keep.” The small, god-like being began, exactly as she had predicted.

“I know, I know, but what was I supposed to do? She wasn’t going to stop asking, and at least this way, I can keep an eye on her.” Marinette said, repeating the argument she’d prepared earlier.

Tikki sighed, zipping over to the plate of cookies on her desk. “But how are you going to manage recording the akumas and fighting them?”

Marinette bit her lip. “I.. I’m sure I’ll figure something out.”

She opened her laptop and searched for Allegra’s blog again. Because of her internal freak out during the blonde’s request, she hadn’t been able to read the few posts Allegra made. It was a hope that she would have something useful on the mysterious villain.

How did she have time to make this? Marinette thought as she scrolled through the web page. Didn’t she say the argument took place that morning? “Birds of a Feather” already had a theme, introduction, and several pictures- albeit a bit blurry -from the news reports. Unfortunately, the blog didn’t have any new information for her.

“Marinette, you should do the dishes before you forget.” Tikki advised, munching on her second cookie.

Marinette, knowing she was right, sighed and stood up, leaving the computer on. She could always read through the blog later. Dishes shouldn’t take more than twenty minutes, anyway.

She walked back downstairs and turned on the faucet. While the water filled the sink, the dirty dishes were piled on the counter, and a clean space was made for the freshly washed ones. The purple dishrag twisted easily in her hands, letting the soap bubbles run over her fingers.

Bells chimed faintly below, and Marinette pictured the customer that might be walking in. Maybe a young woman looking for sweets for her daughter’s bake sale. Or perhaps an esteemed gentlemen in need of a caterer to really sell his newest ideas at a business meeting. It might even be a little kid who’d wandered into the store.

“I’d like two batches of truffles, please.”

Marinette stopped short when a familiar voice echoed softly through the vents.

“Of course! Anything else?” Her mother asked politely.

“No, that’ll be all, thank you.”

Her dish slipped back into the sink. Was that.. Felix? That couldn’t be him, right? She couldn’t sworn Adrien mentioned his distaste for sweets the other day.

Marinette swiftly washed and dried her soapy hands. Maman shouldn’t mind a small interruption as long as she finished the dishes at some point.

~~~~~~

Felix grumbled under his breath as he felt the car roll to a stop in front of the bakery. He thought that platter of truffles would last Duusu about a week, but she ate them all in one night! How could something so small eat so much?

A soft bell chime greeted him as he pushed open the glass door, and the smell of freshly baked croissants prompted him to take a deep breath.

“Can I help you?”

A small, Asian woman stood at the cash register, offering him a smile that seemed vaguely familiar.

“I’d like two batches of truffles, please.” He requested.

She nodded, her short, raven hair bouncing with the notion. It reminded him of two pairs of pigtails, one from a spotted heroine and one from a scatter-brained classmate.

“Of course! Anything else?”

“No, that’ll be all, thank you.”

The woman took his credit card for the payment and gave him the receipt. She then crossed the shop to a certain glass case and put his truffles in a bag.

“Felix?”

Felix spun around, surprised to find bluebell eyes staring at him.

Speaking of scatterbrained classmates.

“Marinette? What are you doing here?”

“It’s.. uhm.. It’s my parents bakery.” She replied, gesturing to the white words ingrained in the glass of the Cashier’s counter.

D-C Boulangerie Patisserie

D-C.

Dupain-Cheng.

Felix face palmed. “Ah. Of course.”

Marinette giggled and closed the gap between them, choosing to lean on the counter as she asked, “What brings you here? I thought you didn’t like sweets.”

Felix ran a hand through his hair, mind suddenly blank. Why did he come here again?

A small shift in his pocket reminded him, but he couldn’t tell her about that little secret.

“Adrien likes sweets, and the personal chef took the day off for some family emergency.” A half truth. Both statements were accurate, though neither were the reason for his visit.

“Gotcha. Hope everything’s alright with the chef’s family.”

He nodded, hiding his surprise by glancing at her mother again. (The relationship between the two explained the similar hair and smile.) To be honest, Felix hadn’t thought much about the chef’s situation. He just knew that they were gone, and it was inconvenient.

Mrs. Dupain-Cheng picked that moment to approach them, bag in hand.

“You two know each other?” She inquired, an odd sparkle coming to her almond eyes.

“Maman, this is Felix. He just started attending our school last week. Felix, this is Sabine, my mom.” Marinette introduced, gesturing between them as she spoke.

Felix extended his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng.”

Sabine scoffed, taking his hand with both of hers. “Oh no, dear, call me ‘Sabine’. There’s no need to be so formal.”

He returned her soft smile and nodded. It was amazing, honestly. He’d thought Marinette was the only one who could be so warm and inviting, but this entire family screamed “welcome home”. Then again, he supposed she had to learn it somewhere.

“Oh! Marinette, why don’t you show him upstairs? I’m sure he’d love a tour.”

Felix tensed. A tour? Of what?

“Uh.. sure, but does Felix have time for that?” Marinette asked, sparing him a glance.

The concern was reasonable. Adrien’s schedules were usually packed with lessons and photo shoots and other things Father assumed he needed. Felix, however, had the convenience of being on the business end of the company, meaning he didn’t have to model for their products. It gave him far more free time.

“My schedule is clear for the time being. What are we touring?”

Duusu could wait for his truffles a little longer. Right now he wanted to indulge on the opportunity to see what exactly made the Dupain-Cheng household so open and relaxing.

Marinette perked up. “Just the house. I mean, you can see the big kitchen too, if you want.”

“I think I’ll save it for later.” He replied, a smirk crossing his lips.

She put a hand to her mouth as she chuckled and spun on her heel. “It’s right up the stairs.”

He followed her up the blue staircase, sliding his hand along the banner as he went. The layout reminded him of an apartment building, with the cracked, wooden floors and old carpet rolled out in the hallway.

Marinette stopped in front of a lone door and easily pushed it open. Felix walked in after her, stepping into another small hallway that led to a decent sized kitchen and family room.

“This is our place. It’s sort of small, but I like to think of it as ‘cozy’.” Marinette said, stopping at the stairs just inside the house.

Felix hummed, taking in the environment. A cream colored couch resided on the far left side of the room, with a tv sitting across from it and a small, white coffee table in between. Their kitchen was to the right, mostly counters with a few bar stools to create a useful table when necessary. The many windows shed light on it all, making him wonder how dark it must be at night.

Next, she brought him up the other set of stairs to a trapdoor. A bit unusual, but Marinette didn’t seem to bat an eye as she threw it open and climbed inside.

The first minutes in the room were spent letting his eyes adjust. If he thought the living room below was bright, then this attic had to be the sun itself. Not to mention everything and anything was all one color: pink.

“And this is my room.” Marinette announced, walking over to the desk that was tucked between a ladder and the crawl space above.

I can’t imagine it looking any different. Felix thought to himself. Her desk was cluttered with papers and pictures, some of her family, some of her friends, none of him. (Why that bothered Felix, he didn’t know.) Her vanity had a few trinkets on it- a semi-circle shaped box with a notebook inside, a brush, and a round bottle of perfume. A large chaise sat to the right of the room, next to a black, full-length mirror. Lastly, there was a mannequin that stood next to the mirror, wearing an interesting choice of clothing.

“Did you make this?” He found himself asking, feeling the fabric of the pink, fluffed out dress. It’s a design he’d seen yet, and Felix prided himself in memorizing the popular fashions around Paris, Agreste brand included, of course.

“That?” Marinette replied, coming to stand next to him. “It’s just something I’ve been playing with, but yeah, I made it.”

Playing with? The dress was obviously hand-sewn, but in a masterful, refined way. She’d practiced- no, perfected -this craft. The ruffles that started from the waist down were swept over each other like rose petals, soft and delicate. Two butterflies were sewn into the side, almost like ribbons. Each pattern was carefully aligned, spreading black flowers across the pink fabric. Not a single stitch looked to be out of place. This wasn’t something she was “playing with”. This was-

“Amazing.” He muttered. “This is incredible work, Marinette.”

A blush bloomed across her cheeks. “What? No, no- I mean, it’s not even finished yet.”

“Nonsense. This dress is better than most of the atrocities people try to present to my Father.” He insisted.

Her blush deepened, and Felix couldn’t help smiling at it.

“Do you have any more of these?”

Marinette furrowed her eyebrows. “More of the dress?”

“More of your designs.” He elaborated, straightening to look at her desk full of papers. “I’m sure Father would love to see them.”

“Your- the Agreste?- I mean, Monsieur Agreste? He’s gonna- my designs?” She sputtered, putting her arms around her face in an odd, box-like position.

Felix laughed. “If you don’t mind.”

Marinette whimpered- he hoped out of nervousness. It wouldn’t be a good first impression in her home to make her uncomfortable.

“No- uh- It’s just.. What if he- he doesn’t.. Like it?” She asked, fiddling with her pigtails.

“Impossible.” He scoffed. “This dress alone proves how much raw talent you have, and it’s not even finished. If my Father doesn’t see that, then he might as well close his business right now.”

Felix put a hand on her shoulder. “Marinette, You are unbelievably brilliant. Don’t cut yourself short.”

A bashful smile spread across her lips, but she nodded. “O-Okay. Let me find some that are finished though!”

His hand slipped off her shoulder as she scrambled off to her closet. He followed, ignoring the strange feeling of disappointment at the loss of touch.

Clothes were thrown this way and that as she searched through the outfits, deciding which one to give him. A small pile had grown in the corner of the room by the time she finally found a suitable arrangement. Two, to be exact.

“These are the ones I like best. I have the original sketches for them in a drawer, if you want those too.” She offered, handing him the outfits.

“That would splendid, thank you.”

Marinette crossed the room again, giving him time to inspect the other creations she’d given him. The first was a white, turtle-necked crop top with a pink jacket and black, ripped up jeans. The other was another dress- this time light blue -that was, in a word, frilly. Nevertheless, the material was just as impressive as the outfit on the mannequin.

“Here are the sketches. If you need anything else..” She trailed off.

Felix took the sketches with a nod. “That’ll do perfectly.”

~~~~~~

Tikki quietly watched Felix and Marinette interact from the safety of Marinette’s bed. He’d never see her up there, and if he did, he would most likely assume she’s a toy.

Her eyes narrowed when the blonde put a hand on Marinette’s shoulder. Something about him seemed.. Off. She couldn’t put her finger on it. There was a certain feeling about him that made her suspicious. What were his motives? Why was he there?

Marinette seemed happy talking to him, blushing and stuttering from his proposal. It was a sweet thing to do, really. Vouching for the ravenette’s designs would certainly help her career.

...but there was still that feeling!

Tikki huffed, zipping down to hide behind Marinette’s computer. The closer she got to him, the stronger the feeling became. Yes, she’d felt this before. It was unique. But where? Why did it bother her?

Marinette walked over to her drawers while Felix studied the clothes she’d given him moments before. It gave Tikki the cover she needed to sneak over to the chaise. Sitting so close to the boy now, the feeling seemed to overwhelm her- a sensation rippling through her entire body. It wasn’t unsettling, though. It was.. Familiar.

Duusu.

“Here are the sketches. If you need anything else..” Marinette’s muffled voice trailed off, and Tikki peeked around the chaise just in time to see Felix take some papers from her.

“That’ll do perfectly.”

Tikki frowned. Why would Felix have Duusu? Didn’t Marinette say he was the boy that taught her painting? He was just a high school student. How did he even find a miraculous?

A buzzing interrupted them, and Felix pulled out his phone.

“Ah. I’m sorry to say I must be going. Father wants me home for homework and violin lessons.”

“You play violin?” Marinette inquired, clearly awed by the fact.

Felix smiled- a smile much too soft for one of Paris’ most wanted. “I do. It’s another talent he thought I should have.”

“Will you.. Do you think you can play for me some time? If it’s not too much trouble, that is.”

Tikki couldn’t help chuckling at her chosen, always so sweet and thoughtful.

The boy’s smile faded, but he didn’t show any contempt either. He looked more of.. Grieved.

“I’ll have to think about it.”

“Of course, I completely understand.” Marinette replied, obviously picking up on his shift in mood as well. “See you tomorrow?”

His expression softened again, and he nodded. “See you tomorrow.”

Tikki followed the blonde out of her room- as he insisted he remembered the way back- and made sure to stay well hidden. Marinette had a habit of letting her out of her bag when she thought no one was around. Maybe this boy did the same for Duusu.

Sure enough, when Felix stepped out into the hallway, He took one of the truffles he’d purchased and stuffed it in his vest pocket. Someone who wore designer clothing wouldn’t put chocolate in their pockets so casually.

A few seconds later, a small voice piped up. “Mm, these are delicious! So much better than the bland ones your chef made!”

Tikki barely held back a gasp. She’d recognize that energetic voice anywhere.

“Hush, Duusu. Wait until we’re at home to talk, remember?” Felix scolded in a whisper, shooting his vest a disapproving look.

“Of course! I’m sorry.” Duusu apologized.

“It’s fine, just wait till later.”

Tikki frowned. The character Felix had shown so far was nothing but respectful, solemn, and kind. None of those traits were usually found in a villain. So why would he help Hawkmoth? Why betray Ladybug’s trust and choose to fight for the wrong side?

“Oh, there you are, Tikki! Where did you go?” Marinette asked when she flew back to the room.

“Just checking something.” Tikki answered, going back to her plate of cookies. She didn’t want to tell Marinette about Duusu yet, not until she spoke to the Master. He would know what to do about all of this.

“Oh.. okay.” Her chosen shrugged. “Well, did you see Felix? Did you hear us talking?”

“I did, and I’m excited for you!” Despite her concerns about Le Paon, the boy was promising a future for Marinette’s dream career. That was something she could support for the time being.

Marinette squealed, falling onto her chaise in a puddle of pure bliss. “I’m excited too, Tikki! He was so sweet and- oh, he liked my designs! He said I was brilliant!”

“That’s because you are brilliant, Marinette.” Tikki remarked, snuggling her holder’s cheek.

The ravenette giggled, returning the hug by cupping her with her palm. “I hope we get to talk again soon.”

Tikki simply smiled. Marinette deserved to be happy. She didn’t want to ruin that until she knew she had to.

The silence of the night strengthened Tikki’s resolve to stay as quiet as possible. Marinette mustn't find out about her sneaking out. The Master was adamant that he be kept a secret until they were told otherwise.

So, as her chosen cuddled under the covers and muttered about hamsters and paintings, Tikki flew through the trap door above and headed for Master Fu’s.

To say she was surprised when she found him already talking to Plagg was an understatement.

“Hello, Tikki. You’re just in time.” Master Fu greeted, gesturing for her to take a seat on the table.

“Hey, Sugar cube. What brings you here so late?” Plagg asked with a grin, causing Tikki to roll her eyes.

“Don’t call me that, and I’m here about Duusu.”

“Oh, so you figured out Chuckles was Le Paon, too?” He guessed, before putting a whole slice of cheese in his mouth.

Tikki gave him a look. “Who?”

Plagg took a minute to chew, before answering.

“He’s-” Bubbles forced themselves out of Plagg’s mouth before he could finish.

“He’s my kid’s brother.” He rephrased.

“How did you find out about it, Tikki?” Master Fu interrupted, focusing on the task at hand.

“Felix came to-” Bubbles came of Tikki’s mouth as well.

“Felix came to our house today,” She continued, “And I heard him talking to Duusu on the way out.”

Master Fu nodded, stroking his chin with a thoughtful expression. “Plagg hasn’t been able to get information about Hawkmoth from Duusu. Have you heard her say anything?”

Tikki shook her head. “I only heard her talking to Felix about the truffles.”

“Should I tell the kid? We’re supposed to be stopping them as soon as possible, right?” Plagg asked.

“True. Neutralizing an enemy would be helpful.” Master Fu began slowly. “However, we still don’t know who Hawkmoth is. If we take Felix’s miraculous, Hawkmoth will know we’re onto him. We need to be careful.”

“So.. what do we do about our chosens?” Tikki dared to ask.

“Keep them in the dark for now. Once we find out Hawkmoth’s identity, they will be able to know everything. Until then, I don’t want things getting out of hand.”

Tikki and Plagg nodded.

“Now go back to your holders before they get worried.” He instructed, shooing them off.

The kwamis did as they were told, each flying off in different directions, both hoping everything would turn out better than the situation deemed it so.

Tag List: @im-here-for-the-content @novicevoice @mewwitch@minightrose @frostymoon11 @multishipper1needshalp@unabashedbookworm @unholykrow @trubel43@kaydenth3gayden @stardustrevoutionx @legendaryneckjudgestudent @aurordraws @crazylittlemunchkin @weird-homosapien @celestethegoddess @imnostrangertodisasters

#Felinette #Le Paon AU #Felix Agreste #Marinette

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