#so yes distress tolerance is something i need to learn but i have no idea how and unmasking isn't really causally related

[lindwurmkai]

haha tfw your silly little tags get reblogged 😳

but really tho ... i don't think the relationship between autistic masking and the autistic struggle to be disobedient is as straightforward as that article made it out to be. my ability to mask has become worse and worse over time and sometimes i barely even try anymore, yet i did not magically develop better distress tolerance through this. in fact i can be so distressed that masking and thinking becomes impossible, so my entire brain is [very loud static noise] and i'll agree with anything you say to me just to get out of the situation faster while coming across as very, very weird

[infinitewarden]

Osiris isn’t Savathun.

Great! Now that I have your attention:

Man you guys tire me out about Osiris. If you truly believe this is Osiris I don’t mean to sound like That Guy that’s like “you don’t know what you’re talking about” but... You don’t know what you’re talking about.

So.

Let’s talk about how much Osiris cares about the City and humanity and why the Osiris in Epilogue is not actually Osiris.

Alright. Let’s start off with context. I think it’s super important to see what we do know as Osiris’s views. From my heavy analyses of him since 2020 I can confidently say these are what he views as the most important things a person can do:

Keep promises

Speak their truths

Protect the City & Humanity

Know that the Vex are true Evil.

Now, I won’t be doing a breakdown of each one individually but I will be talking a great deal of how important honesty is to Osiris, the City, and his views of the Vex.

Speaking honestly and bluntly.

I don’t know how many of you were into Destiny before Beyond Light, so if you were unaware of this it’s not your fault. However I’ve seen a very strange change in tone when it comes to how people view Osiris. Before Season of Hunt people hated - and I mean hated - Osiris. Why? Because he was blunt. They viewed his bluntness as rudeness.

To see a sudden switch to him being secretive and scheming is... alarming, to say the least. (And to see people think that this is the norm is also alarming but in other ways.)

The Osiris before Hunt was not secretive and scheming. He sought knowledge openly. He sought, specifically, the truth. I must stress just how open he was about his plans. First I’ll give you a few in lore examples:

I admit, I found your questions divisive and disloyal, and I feared you might be capable of breaking our unity when the City's position had grown so tenuous. Why divert attention away from the Traveler, our only hope? And then it got worse, dabbling in thanatonautics, Ahamkara-lore, chasing after Xur and the tricks of the Nine. Launching expeditions into the Reef and beyond at a time when ships were irreplaceable. Your quest split Guardians along ideological lines. This was your greatest crime: Hunters chose to pursue your visions instead of protecting refugees, Titans assembled teams to chase the legendary Vault of Glass instead of striking the Fallen, and Warlocks turned away from the study of the Traveler in favor of  your  ultimate obsession... learning the exact nature of the Darkness. ... Perhaps what drives a Warlock to madness is truth.

Osiris.

"Do not romanticize this burden. We wield a weapon." The Speaker shakes his head. "The Light wields you, Osiris. You are what you make of it. A glorious extension of its majesty, in many directions." Osiris paces at cadence with his words. "Then it would do well to speak clearly. To better direct me." The Speaker cocks his head. "Without will? Then it would be no better than the Darkness." "I am asking only for guidance; it is a delicate game we are playing." Osiris's voice, distressed. Regal again, the Speaker motions to the stone garden. "Will you sit with me?"

13: Margins Part II.

And, while I don’t particularly like using the Fall of Osiris comic as a source, it does have very important lines on his viewpoints that I find relevant yet.

Fall of Osiris #1.

Hell he was open about his plans to fuck with time itself to bring Saint back.

Sagira narrowed her eye at the rogue Lightbearer and lowered herself to Osiris’s shoulder. “Why’s he here?” she asked quietly. “I asked him to consult on the engineering work,” Osiris replied, crossing his arms. “You sicko,” the other man declared, walking a circle around the Warlock, his eyes darting along every surface of the Sundial around them. ... “Just one more question, then. Why all the fuss?” “I owe him.” “I owe a lotta people, Warlock. You’re opening the gates of hell with a Vex key.” “When the Traveler brought me back, I had no friends. No family—” “No one had anything in the Dark Age.” “But Saint was always there. And I saw him grow from neophyte to demigod.”

The Sundial.

"You haven't left the Forest in years," Ikora said to Osiris, the only one to address him directly. "I need help," Osiris replied. "I know," Ikora responded, hands clasped behind her back. She stared intently at her former mentor. Back in her Crucible days, that uncompromising gaze was often the last thing her opponents saw. Aunor glanced sidelong at her superior. Harper coughed and looked down at his datapad. "Two years ago, Guardians entered the Infinite Forest," Osiris continued. "They aided me in defeating the Axis Mind Panoptes, preventing a Vex apocalypse from befalling this system. "In the process," he looked between each of them in turn, "Some Guardians reported a body they found in the Forest depths." Ikora sighed. "Saint-14 never came back from that last mission to Mercury. We finally knew why. I reacted to it the only way I knew how."

Desperate Times.

“I do not understand all of this code. This is Geppetto’s specialty,” Saint-14 says while standing bent over a wide desk covered in data tablets. Holographic images of the Lighthouse shimmer in the Hangar lights. “We could use the Crucible right now. Your trials. This will be very helpful. You mean to stay, yes?” “I will. Long enough to show you how to implement the simulation; but tonight, I must disembark,” Osiris says. “So soon?” Osiris tenses his jaw in forced silence. He twiddles with code. “I’m worried about what Vance found.” Saint places a heavy hand on Osiris’s chest. “Let go of your obsession. Do not leave chasing phantoms again.” “Phantoms… You think the Darkness is satisfied? This is just the first move. I need to know the next before it’s made.” “If there is something you fear, let me help you. We face this together.” Osiris’s mind drifts to the Dark anomalies. Saint doesn’t need another burden. “The safest place for you is the Tower, Saint. Time... tends to renege on its gifts.” “So, your mission is dangerous?” Osiris considers lying. “Potentially.”

Immolant I.

There are many more sources I could list on his bluntness and honesty but there’s honestly too much. What is important to extrapolate from all of it is this:

OSIRIS SPOKE THE TRUTH NO MATTER IF IT GOT HIM IN TROUBLE. IT IS ONE OF THE MAIN REASONS HE GOT EXILED.

Protecting the City & Humanity

Idk where people get the idea that he’s abandoned the City and humanity. And I don’t understand where people think it’s “typical Osiris behavior” to choose to put the City in danger.

I want to make something very clear here:

Osiris was exiled. He did not abandon the City. And though others view him as abandoning it, that wasn’t his intention. He never intentionally abandoned it. Everything he did was in pursuit of a brighter future for humanity. Let’s look at one of his lines from the Sundial activity during Dawn.

“By the time I left the City, many believed my practices to be sacrilege. But my methods have prevented countless futures not unlike the one you walk now. When it is laid out before you, would you not sacrifice anything to see this future shut?”

The Sundial.

He left because he weighed his options and he saw that humanity would have better use of him if he left. He cares A great deal about the City. He cares almost too much about it. He would never give Lakshmi the technology to cause it harm, especially knowing that she’s unstable. And I’ve seen some people think he’s playing 5D chess? In what world would he ever choose to bring harm upon humanity for some sort of... agenda; which I’ve already cleared up earlier, he’s open about his plans.

Let’s look at more known lore about Osiris’s feelings of the City & humanity.

"You've wrapped your mind around an idea of your own making. I have always tolerated this fawning 'movement' of yours, but this is a step too far." Osiris seethed. Brother Vance was awestruck. He stared blankly at Osiris, unsure of what he could say to quell his anger and dissolve his frustration. "What I have discovered…" "…is dangerous enough to destroy every man, woman, and child in existence. You're meddling with forces outside your grasp," Osiris reprimanded. "I warn you here and now, remove yourself from this Lighthouse. Find a simple life. Start a family. Write music. Leave Mercury and this fool's errand behind."

Chapter 8: Idolatry.

Osiris was furious to find out Vance was experimenting in his name by endangering people for his goals. And he was especially mad that he would dive into such dangerous areas so much so that it had the potential to destroy humanity.

"It's truth." Osiris considers this. "Truth seems subjective these days," Osiris says, finally observing his entourage for the first time. Among them, a small group of men and women, stand two wayward Guardians—Warlocks, it appears—and a child. Their forlorn faces resonate with him. Castaways and believers. The weeks since his departure from the Last City have worn on him. He was used to working alone, knowing he could fall back to the City's resources should he need them. Now, adrift in the expanse of purpose, he finds himself longing for a place he could return to. A sanctuary.

Chapter 2: Postexilic.

Here’s a few lines from Season of Dawn:

“The Traveler, mutilated. Mercury, a desolate warzone. This is the bleak future the Cabal wants for us all. We do not know what has become of humanity here. I hope we will not find out.”

.

“There are many terrible futures, but I have not grown numb to seeing them. The future the Cabal wish for is a nightmare for humanity.”

.

“If the Traveler fled the system, there is a chance that the Darkness would ignore our region of the galaxy entirely. It would sacrifice our second awakening, our ability to wield the Light, but potentially continue our Golden Age. There are too many variables at risk, but it's a variant path worth investigating in the Infinite Forest.”

.

“This battered Mercury is a blueprint for our system. Lightless, bowed, and nothing more than fuel for an endless war. It must never come to pass.”

The Sundial.

There are many. Many. More lines I could put here about how much Osiris doesn’t want to see humanity suffering. And especially how he doesn’t want the City to be at risk. But I think you get the picture.

Know that the Vex are true Evil.

So. We all know Osiris as “the Vex guy.” His whole thing is on fighting the Vex. However it seems people think that he’d be okay with using them for grounds of a higher purpose? Or something? I don’t know, everyone I see rebuffing Osiris’s actions with Lakshmi don’t seem to be interested in explaining this one.

So anyways. Let’s talk about how Osiris views the Vex as true evil compared to other species.

“The Fallen are not so different from us. How hard would you fight if the Light were taken from you?” “Those stories ring false to me,” said Saint. “They are not a noble people. I’ve fought them, and so have you.” “I have not fought them all,” the Warlock replied, pulling his hands apart to create an intricate web of hovering cubes and points of light. “They are nothing, no threat—not like the Vex. Not like the Darkness.”

Vanguard Commander.

[u.2:06] Have you spoken to the House of Light, like I asked? [u.1:07] I would rather not speak with Fallen. [u.2:07] They may need our help. Their cause is just. [u.1:08] What happened to “trust no one?” [u.2:08] What happened to your sense of right and wrong, hero?

Maintenance Operations Log 30037.

The unenlightened wonder at my so-called "fixation" upon the Vex. They believe our gravest existential threat is the Hive, for those beings have made a pact with the Darkness itself via the medium of the Worm Gods (according to Toland, at least, and I see no reason to doubt him in this). But Darkness is not merely absence of Light. Darkness is an entity unto itself. Put simply, Darkness is not Nothing. But the Vex? The Vex seek neither Light nor Darkness. They seek Convergence, the reduction of all life to its simplest, most meaningless form. An entelechy of zeros and ones. "Evil" is a word for sentimentalists and fools. But, in the ontology of the sentimental, the Vex are more deserving of the term than the Hive. Given a choice between Darkness and Convergence, I would choose Darkness. It is a logical choice. Yet for this they banish me.

Kairos Function (Hunter).

This one is important because Osiris doesn’t subscribe to the idea of “good” and “evil”, and that he would go so far to say that the Vex are Evil shows just how much of a threat he views them as.

It’s just. Mind boggling to me that people think that Osiris would be okay with a Vex invasion. That Osiris would encourage Lakshmi to open up a rift to “send the Fallen away” (Despite being one of the earliest sympathizers!) Osiris isn’t ineffable, he’s just a man trying to do his best to help humanity. His actions aren’t difficult to understand, they have been written to be very clear and with understanding his motives.

Saying that it’s natural for him to be secretive and have contradicting opinions and actions is just. Wrong. It’s not him. It’s not how he’s supposed to be understood. Even in Curse of Osiris I don’t think his actions didn’t make any sense.

This is going to sound very mean but I want to be 100% clear: If you think that Osiris would actively choose to put the City in danger of the Vex, if you think that he would actively choose to stand calmly and watch as his lover was about to die to the very things he spent millions of lives to save... You don’t understand Osiris. Go back and reread his lore.

I leave you with this:

The Vanguard is dubious of our intent and ability, fearing corruption and displacement. They do not trust me. You were held in similar contempt for speaking your truth and empowering free thought. You know what it feels like to be chastised and labeled a traitor. We are mere steps away from a disintegration of our institutions, and they cannot see destruction staring them in the face. ... For so long, we have clung to the Light, denying the strength offered by the Dark. By using Stasis, we will end this war. We see this contest for what it truly is: a game, played by our adversaries. And we have been the pawns. We are pawns no more. This is not a battle I want to wage without you, although we may not have a choice in the matter. Wherever you may be, please come back to us.

To Osiris.

[shini--chan]

I have an idea! What would Allies do after finding out that their s/o have (another) stalker? It can be another yandere, a creep, ex, jealous coworker with bad intentions or even a serial killer.

And a good idea it is, my dear anon.

Yandere Allies – Feindling America

You were already fast asleep, snoozing away under the covers in your shared bedroom. He, on the other hand, was still wide awake and had decided to settle down in the living room to do some light reading. His insomnia was due to the usual reasons – too much caffeine, too much stress, too much curiosity to just let the day finish.

And because he was worried, intently, about you. There was somebody else trying to stick their grubby fingers in your shared life, and pry you apart. That was something he was absolutely sure off. After living so long, and becoming paranoid due to his position on the global stage, he knew very well when he was being watched.

There was something after you in particular, he didn’t like it.

Out of his peripheral vision, he caught sight of somebody moving in the bushes. A spike of adrenaline shot through his body, and for a moment he was tempted to storm about side and give that creep a hook. Yet a better idea came to mind – first to fire a warning shot.

He net his book aside and sauntered to one of the glass door to the balcony and gave the pane a few sharp knocks. It was enough to catch their attention. It was almost comical how the figure froze, and the hood swivelled in his direction. Alfred couldn’t identify them in any capacity – they wore non-script jeans and a grey hoodie along with a pair of gloves. But this was about digging up the war axe.

Grinning, he flipped the bird at them, and then proceeded to draw a thin line across his throat in an unmistakable message.

Alfred would see this as a chance to play hero. He would finally be able to prove to you how capable he is at protecting you, how attentive he would be when it would water down to your safety. Of course, he would make sure there would be a lot he wouldn’t catch wind off – it would be the instances where he would come off as an evil master mind or as a control freak that he would skilfully hide from you.

He might or might not elect to torture the fool that would be stalking you. For him, waterboarding that creep would be a method of stress relief. It would also drive home the point that nobody should dare try to get between him and his sweetie.

Canada

Besides you, your phone beeped for what must have been the twelfth time in the span of one minute. You sobbed harder and buried your face in his chest. Matthew calmly stroked your back, making quiet soothing noises as he held you close.

“(Ex) will have to leave you be someday. This can’t go on forever. One day that jerk will have to accept that you’re gone for good”, he told quietly, while cautiously shifting his position to a more comfortable one.

You were both on the backseat of his car, having sought sanctuary there after you started panicking upon seeing the messages. All the memories had started to overwhelm you, and you had gripped his arm as if it was the only thing that was preventing you from drowning.

“No, that won’t be the case. Before I met you, I tried to leave so often only to be lured back into it. It was only because I met you that I haven’t gone back”, you cried, gazing up at him with a tear-stricken face.

“Shh, I will think of something. There shall be hell to pay.”

Matthew would be concerned about your wellbeing first and foremost. He would cater to you, cuddle with you, sooth you. But don’t think that would mean he would go easy on you should you step out of line and try to flee from him. When he would say he would never let your ex take you back, he would be indirectly saying he would never allow you to leave him.

Naturally, he would be careful and avoid any explicit rhetoric stating that your place in the world is at his side, but the message would be there, hidden between the lines.

With the legal sway he would hold, he would easily have your ex punished in some capacity. This could range from a fine to a restrain order to spending some time in jail.

China

A scream pierced the silence of the night, followed by a yell as the attacker was swept off his feet. Yao didn’t hesitate to continue beating the culprit up, even though he was on the ground.

After all, this was a man that had just been a few milliseconds away from dragging you away and murdering you, after doing unspeakable things to you, things that couldn’t be lightly talked about in any context.

“So, you’re the vermin that has been butchering people left and right for the past four months. You’re just as disgusting as I expected”, Yao commented as he brought his foot down on his back in a harsh stamp.

You had taken seat on a tree stump that was standing by. The near death experience and the fight going on in front of you had utterly rattled you. You were numbly staring at the scene playing out, heads in your hands, whole body trembling and eyes wide blown.

He kicked the killer in the side and was rewarded was a grunt and a hiss: “And I’ll fucking kill you too.”

“Sure you will”, Yao drawled sarcastically and pressed the criminals head into the dirt. “Get used to the taste of it.”

Contrary to expectations, Yao would approach the situation of serial killer being after you calmy. Not because he wouldn’t care about you, but rather because he would be far to old to be surprised by such a – in his eyes – trivial thing. And because he would know that letting himself drown in anger or panic would just result in him making grave mistakes – ie. losing you.

Nevertheless, he would never be far off, lurking behind corners, just out of sight of you and the murderer. He would also scoure your online activity, searching for any suspicious doings from other users. Furthermore he would use the opportunity to learn more about you and your strengths and weaknesses.

England

“Ah, ah, ah. Keep your dirty paws off that”, Arthur chided Jane and firmly grabbed Jane by the ear, harshly tugging there. It wasn’t the most humane treatment of a mortal, that England knew very well. However, he was in a sour mood, your infuriating co-worker being one of the contributing factors to it. Besides, he hadn’t made it one of his life maximas to be nice.

“You dare”, she hissed. When he gave another sharp tug, she yelped and dropped your phone, showing one of your social media profiles. Jane Smithers was persistent, he would have to give her that. Yet that would just be her downfall because she had decided to use that trait to try to ruin your life.

“Oh yes I dare. I dare to not tolerate your disgusting behaviour. Between you and me, we’re going to have a very long talk about your morals.”

She snorted and grabbed his hand.

“I could sue you for sexual harassment. We’ll see if you’ll still be laughing then.”

Oh, he had expected such a threat to come from such a vile person as her. He chuckled lowly – did she really think she could best him when it came to anything.

“And then spend some time in the nick for lying to judge and jury. Don’t think you’d be able to weasel your way out of this. I’m the one here that can have your framed and believe me, I could get you a bloody life sentence.”

She stared at him, uncomprehending, before realisation dawned and she let out a harsh laugh.

“So that is how (l/n) did it. Slept the way to the top.”

“No. (Y/n) has talent, impeccable talent. So unlike you, my dearest never had to resort to the methods you were so kind to mentioned.”

Arthur would see it as his duty to protect you – your physical & mental wellbeing as well as your reputation. So of course he would go after any jealous co-worker that would try to ruin you to any extent. And as mentioned in the snippet above, he wouldn’t be exactly nice about it. Any means would do for him, as long as the risk of his machinations backfiring on him and you would be relatively low.

During the whole process, he would letting you know about everything. It would be his point of proving that the world is a horrible place and that you can only find solace in his company and attention.

France

Francis was in the kitchen when you came stumbling in, frazzled and panting as If you had just run a marathon. By the way your extremities were trembling and sweat dotted your forehead, he wouldn’t be surprised. The only question was why.

Aside from that, fear danced in your eyes, and that was the only further information he needed to know that something was wrong. Rushing forward, he scooped you in his arms, ignoring the coffee that he had been preparing, and asked you:

“What happened, ma cherie?”

Instead of answering, you leaned your head against his shoulder and wrapped your arms around his torso, taking heavy, laboured breaths, as if you were crying. That was when he realised that you were. It worried him.

Was this something that he had done? What had caused you to become so distressed? Was it something he could fix.

“You don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to”, he offered shakily, unsure about what he should do to cheer you up. How could he, when he didn’t know why you were in such a state?

Thankfully, you supplied him with an explanation, one that caused his concern to freeze to ice cold anger: “There is some creep following me. He grabbed my butt when I got off the bus.”

Whoever that devil was, he was going to have hell to pay,

Francis would be enraged that somebody would be so disrespectful of your boundaries and of the fact that you’re already taken. In the brief moments of his more intense bouts of fury, he might do something as rash as to track the creep down and bludgeon him with something, probably a newspaper.

However, his preferred method would be character assassination (this would work especially well if the culprit in question would have a high social status) and verbal abuse. In this case, his revenge could be long-winded and very elaborate.

Russia

The temperature of the corridor had dropped since the last time he had visited – a testimony to the bad insulation and the approaching winter. Ivan thought it did her justice. After all, she did deserve this after nearly kidnapping you.

Speaking of her, she was sitting near the bars when he approached and when she glimpsed him, she quickly scooted away. Clever; she had learned from what had occurred the last time.

“Come to taunt me again?”, she seethed, curling into a tight, haggard ball of fury. Understandable in her case, however he wouldn’t shed any tears or have any sleepless nights.

“As is customary. I have to elevate your boredom somehow”, he confirmed, grabbing a chair and seating himself opposite her.

She stared at the door at the end of the passage, hungerly tracing it and searching the shadows for any sign of you. Ivan derived pleasure from mocking her: “How foolish are to think I would have brought my lover with me? I didn’t the last few times so why should it any different now?”

“You’re so very attached to (y/n), so I had my hopes.”

“Then I’ll have to forever dash them. That I owe you.”

She snarled at this; face twisted to a nasty frown.

“You know, you and I aren’t so different. So it is even more hypocritical of you to claim the moral high ground. Does (y/n) know even half of the things you’ve done in the name of your love?”

“I detest the comparison. I walk free while you rot in solitude, unloved and unwanted. While you have done everything wrong, I have done what was right where it counted most. You go very far by suggesting anything else.”

Russia would be the one to act the most intense of all the allies. He would have had people that were dear to him ripped away from him in the past, so he invest a lot of energy in insuring that wouldn’t happen to you and him.

That would mean he would go up to 11 in this case. As in, he would either kill this person and dissolve their body in acid or feed it to the pigs. Or he would leave this other yandere to rot somewhere after having dragged them before court for a very showy trail to break their spirit.

[ptergwen]

you’ll still have me | p.p.

w/c: 2.4k

warnings: angst, mentions of death and a toxic living situation

summary: in a life filled with uncertainty, peter is your constant

a/n: the idea for this was sitting in my mind and writing it out made me feel better about some stuff? i hope it does the same for all of you <3

════*･ﾟ✲

you were only kids the first time you and peter met. it was the summer before fourth grade. you’d just moved in to his building because your parents wanted a fresh start. new neighborhood, new school, new family. the last one didn’t work out. they fought about the same old things in an unfamiliar apartment. you were really hoping something would change.

anything to make them go one night without a screaming match.

your mom and dad never had a great relationship, but they used to at least tolerate each other. or, they pretended to for you. you picked up on it as you got older. they also stopped hiding it as you got older. the place and people you used to call home became unlivable. you were tired of being forced to choose sides. you couldn’t take the tension between everyone.

so, you’d sit on the steps outside your apartment until the yelling stopped. sometimes, you cried. you usually brought headphones to drown them out. there were also the occasional times you roamed the hallways of your building. your parents never showed you around it like they said they would. you might as well have given yourself a tour.

may found you one day walking around her floor. she was never one to pry, but she couldn’t ignore a kid in distress. you were frowning at a wall when she came up to you. “hi, what’s your name?” she asked sweetly. you glanced over at her. “y/n.” “y/n, huh? i’m may.” there was a beat of silence that you didn’t fill. the fight your parents were having that day was worse than usual. it was about you.

“what are you doing up here all alone?” may furrowed her eyebrows, pushing her glasses up on her nose. tears filled your eyes before you could explain. her heart broke for you. she waited until you calmed down to ask what happened. you told her everything the best you could. she couldn’t let you go back home after knowing what was going on there. she invited you over to her apartment.

“you’re the same age as my nephew,” may told you on the way over with a small smile. you perked up a little. “i think you’ll like him.”

she knocked on peter’s door and said he had a guest. peter closed the book he was reading and told her to come in. when he saw you standing behind her, he gasped. a girl? in his room? he’d been shy about these types of things his whole life. may quietly filled him in on your situation, and his look of terror became one of empathy. he cleared his throat.

“do you like legos?”

-

the parker’s became part of your life after that day. may, ben, and peter. you met ben the next time may took you in. he was really funny and helped you and peter make ice cream sundaes. being with the three of them made you forget about your problems for a little while. they were the family you wished you could go home to.

peter eventually started inviting you over himself. you went to different schools, but you got out at the same time. he’d walk you up to your apartment. if the two of you heard fighting, he’d ask if you wanted to come upstairs. you didn’t even have to tell him yes.

may was right. you did like him. you became friends fast, and he was one of your first in the neighborhood. he had this lighthearted and happy kind of energy that rubbed off on you every time you came over. he’d cheer you up right away. you two laughed all afternoon long at whatever shows were playing on nickelodeon. peter made weird faces to get a smile out of you.

he really enjoyed spending all this time together. he didn’t see you as some random girl to feel bad for. you were his friend.

you got your own key to his apartment when you turned thirteen. he convinced may because you were “already over all the time. she basically lives here.” she couldn’t argue with that. plus, she loved you like her own. why shouldn’t you let yourself in?

-

ben’s passing changed everything.

you came over after the funeral. peter and may were still dressed in black. the air felt heavy. she kept on a brave face for him, even when you hugged her tight. you said how sorry you were, how incredible of a person her husband was. peter couldn’t do the same. he broke down the second you took him into your arms.

he hid his face in your neck, his tears dripping down your shirt. it was you who cried on his shoulder all these years. now, the roles were reversed. the sob he let out made you tear up yourself.

“he’s gone, y/n. he’s gone.”

there was nothing you could say. all you did was hold him close. you knew peter never had it easy. he lost his parents, then his uncle. it wasn’t fair. he had to grow up when he was little.

you both did.

-

high school was a blur. you barely spent time at home anymore, either busy with clubs or over at peter’s. you liked it that way. your parents were fighting with each other and now you. they were on you about never being there, saying you broke this family. you just took their shit, then let peter make you forget about it later.

peter turned from an awkward little boy to an awkward young man in front of your eyes. he learned to cover up his sweat stains with body spray. his voice dropped a bit. he’d actually managed to ask a girl out at one point. they went to homecoming together.

you helped him get ready. you found yourself having to choose support over jealousy. why you were jealous, you didn’t know. peter asked if you wanted to come, but you said your school was having a dance next week. that was a lie. it had already happened the day before.

you also found yourself relieved when he said there wasn’t going to be a second date. again, you had no idea where this was coming from.

it didn’t seem like it was only on your end. peter had started keeping an arm around your shoulders when you watched movies. he added your favorite snacks to the grocery list every week. he gave you his hoodies, and didn’t care if you took them home.

the gestures were sweet. sudden, but sweet. you appreciated him more than he probably knew. one day, it all just becomes too real.

-

“you know what i realized?” peter asks you, hanging upside down on the top of his bunk bed. you’re on the bottom. you poke his shoulder with a pencil. “don’t fall.” he rolls over with a huff, then hops onto the floor. he sits down perpendicular to you. smiling smugly, you close your notebook. “you know what i realized?” he asks again. “what?” peter turns his head to look at you.

“we’ve known each other for eight years, and we only hang out here.” you purse your lips. “so?” peter furrows an eyebrow with a curious smile. “isn’t it kind of weird? like, i never see you outside of this building.” you’d never thought about it before. now that you are, it does seem strange. “i guess, but we’ve never had anywhere else to go.” he looks you up and down. “not true.”

something tells you you’re not going to like what he says next. it’s getting too serious.

“i was thinking, maybe we could go for dinner?”

the corners of your mouth twitch into a frown. peter doesn’t realize. he keeps going on. “on a date, i mean. i saw this place the other day that you-“ you put up a hand to cut him off. “i can’t, peter.” he shrugs. “it doesn’t have to be today. whenever you’re free.” your throat feels tight. you start getting your things together. “no, i can’t go out with you. i... i’m sorry.”

you hurry to the door. peter shoots up from his bed. “it’s fine. we don’t have to, y/n. please stay.” a hot tear streams down your cheek before you can blink it back. you turn around and grab the handle. “i have to go.” “y/n-“

you’re out the door. he wants to go after you, but it doesn’t feel right. you need some time alone.

the second you get into your bedroom, you burst into tears. your breathing is heavy and fast. if only peter was here to hug you through it. but, that’s the whole reason you’re crying. you wish you would’ve said yes. you’d be trying each other’s food or holding hands down the street.

only, it’s not that easy. what you have going would never be the same. peter is the stability you’ve always longed for, the safe place you could always go to. you can’t lose that. even if things worked out between you two, you can’t risk it. you can’t lose him or may. a night out isn’t worth that. he’ll never be in your life the way you want him to, but at least you’ll still have him.

-

you haven’t been over to peter’s in weeks. you’ve thought about texting him, explaining why you said no. that never happened. you bump into may sometimes in the mailroom. she offers sad smiles, which you awkwardly return. peter must have told her.

there was one time he saw you wandering around his floor. it was like you were kids again, peter shy around a girl and you feeling lost without him. he tried to talk to you, but you were down the stairs before he could say hi.

he’s had enough. he needs to understand what he did. he needs to fix this. forget the crush, you’re one of his closest friends. he misses you.

-

you open your door after three knocks. you’re not sure who it could be. your parents aren’t exactly well liked around here, and you’d never invite someone over. peter is standing outside getting ready to knock again.

he lets his hand drop, clenching his jaw out of nerves. you only poke your head out. “um, hey.” his voice is soft, high. you squint at him in confusion. he takes that as his cue to keep talking. “i haven’t seen you in a while. thought i’d check in.” “yeah, i...” your eyes drop down to his feet. he’s shifting his weight. “i’ve been busy.” “everything okay over here?”

he thought maybe your parents got that divorce you were always suggesting. that would explain why you’ve been home more. you nod quickly. “it’s just me right now. i’ve been going to the library after school.” so, they didn’t. you’re just avoiding them and him. he tries not to sound hurt. “oh, okay. can i come in?”

peter can count on one hand the amount of times he’s been over. it was usually to pee or get a snack on your way up to his place. you’ve never spent much of your time here.

“uh, sure. they’ll be back soon, though.” you pull the door open fully, stepping aside so he can come in. you’re still not looking at him. “this won’t take long,” he tells you lowly.

you’re in your room. you on your bed, peter standing in front of you. you finally meet his eyes. they’re glossy. he wants to say something, blurt something out. you can tell. the longer you look at him, the closer he gets to coming out with it.

“i’m sorry, y/n. i put you in a weird place,” peter gets out, eyes pleading with you. you rub your arm distractedly. you don’t say anything. “i thought... i thought you liked me back.” shaking your head, you take in a breath. “it’s not about that, peter. i do.” “then what is it? what did i do?” he’s on the verge of tears. you can hear it in his voice, see it on his face. you have to look away again.

“nothing.” peter closes his eyes to keep the tears in. his lip quivers. “n- nothing? i don’t understand.” “what if...” you let out a shaky breath. “sit.” he takes the spot next to you. he’s not sure if you want him too close right now, so he leaves space between you two. “what if we do end up dating, and one day we break up?” you give him a knowing look. “i think that’s how relationships work,” he murmurs.

“but we’re different, peter. i’d... i’d have no where to go.” your voice gets quieter when you say the last part. he’s confused for a second, then he realizes what you’re talking about. he instantly grabs your hand. “you never have to worry about that. no matter what happens between us, you’ll still have me. may, too.” a hopeful smile pulls at your lips, but it doesn’t meet your eyes. you’re scared.

peter squeezes your hand once, then again when you turn away. he moves closer to you so your legs are touching. you need him. you drop his hand so you can wrap your arms around his neck. he holds you close, arms around you as tight as they can be.

“promise?” you whisper, your chin on his shoulder. he nods and pulls you into his chest. “i promise, y/n. i’m not going anywhere.”

-

four years later and he hasn’t broken it. you both stayed in the city for college, and now you’re moving in together. it’s your last year.

this wasn’t easy for you at first. you kept getting the urge to leave, to end things before they got messy. peter was patient. he reassured you whenever you had your doubts. he made sure to kiss you a little harder if you hadn’t seen each other for a while. he cuddled a little closer to you after the rare fights you had. you eventually started to believe it. peter loved you, and the bad days wouldn’t change that.

you’ve never felt more at home than in your cute little apartment on the upper east side. the two of you decorated it the way you’d imagined as kids when you played with barbies. only, your dream house was smaller. smaller, but definitely you and peter. may is your first guest. she brings you a cactus as a housewarming gift, which goes right by the front door. your friends and peter’s come over the next few weeks.

you don’t need to escape to peter’s place anymore, or spend every night listening to muffled yelling from your kitchen. you’re safe in his arms forever. he’s so happy he gets to hold you.

they say everyone needs a place to live, but love is what builds a home.

-

[buildmeafairytale]

Female reader x Male Drider

Finished my request from @acreepqueen​, let me know if you guys like it, I have some ideas for a (possibly NSFW) part 2.  Constructive feedback is always welcome :)  

Edit: Part 2 - NSFW

When father gave you news of your new guard, you were initially thrilled. While you were not his first born, you were still anxious as royal kidnappings had been becoming all the more common. Your father figured a full time guard would be a good solution for you, as well as your sisters. He was also increasing his ranks a bit, keeping a few more guards full time. 

“Oh, I hope mine’s handsome,” you admitted, giggling to your older sisters. The eldest huffed at you, fondly, and informed you that the guards weren’t being paid to be eye candy.

“Do you never think of romance Priscilla? Let our sister fantasize about her guard, Vivie isn’t hurting anyone,” your other sister chimed in, Anna always one to come to your defense. 

Truthfully, you had been rather sheltered when it came to boys. Everyone seems to think princesses would be overrun with suitors but that has never been the case with you. Being the youngest of three girls, you held the least amount of political power and were less sought after due to this. Your eldest sister didn’t care much for the suitors at her feet however, more content to learn how she was to run the kingdom in the future.

You spent the days leading up to your guard’s arrival picturing all different ideas of what he would look like. Maybe he would be an orc, with arms that could be mistaken for tree trunks and a voice like gravel, or maybe a minotaur with soft fur that you would be tempted to run your hands through. You knew whoever he was, he would be large and strong, and more than likely something much more powerful than human. You sigh, succumbing to your romantic daydreams.

You are sitting on the window sill in your bedroom attempting - and failing -  to knit a blanket when you spot the caravan approaching. With rapt attention you try to make out the shapes and guess what one of them will be your guard. You see a few strong looking humans among the ranks, a female dark elf dressed handsomely in military garb, a few orcs who look to be mercenaries, and a rather daunting looking minotaur leading the way. 

Before you could analyze the rest of the crowd, though, a spider dropped down from the top of the window into your lap. A shrill sound left you lips and you shot out of your seat, heartbeat racing, and batted the spider away. Spiders always scared you, and while you wouldn’t kill the poor thing, you certainly didn’t want it anywhere near you. Still shaking, you made your way down the tower your bedroom was in, looking to find one of the staff members to remove the spider. Not an unusual occurrence for you, and as soon as one of the butlers spotted you coming towards him distressed, he simply grabbed a dustpan and followed you back up to your room.

The staff were quite used to your arachnophobia and most were very kind and accommodating about it. Seeing as most had been here since you were a baby, they felt mostly like extended family. Almost everyone in the castle knew your fear, except for your father. You were his youngest, and he still tended to treat you like a little girl; you knew letting him know about this fear would not aid in your endeavor to be treated your age. 

Suffice to say, this backfired greatly: said backfiring manifesting itself in the guard your father personally appointed to you. 

You come down into the dining hall dressed nicely and your hair tied back; you want to make a good impression on whoever will be your guardian. You had a tendency to wander about, and with the lack of responsibilities you had politically you found yourself often roaming the grounds around the castle. If you wanted to keep these freedoms you would have to learn to be sneaky - not much of a strong suit of yours - or get your guard to like you and tolerate your exploration. 

When you make it to the dining hall, you spot your sisters already seated with who must be their new guards. Priscilla is sitting with the pretty dark elf, and Anna with the minotaur. The other presence in the room makes you stop in your tracks. 

A drider. They are built much like centaurs, with their upper bodies being mostly human looking and their bottom half being that of something else. In the case of a drider, that something else is a spider. This particular drider is incredibly tall, with what look to be small pointed pincers on the side of his mouth. His skin in a grayish blue, his body nothing but hard corded muscle. He looks at you with two large eyes that are entirely black with silver speckles, reminiscent of stars in the night sky. He also has several smaller eyes under and over the larger ones. The lower half of his body sends chills down your spine. Right before his body changes, he has an extra set of arms. Underneath that are his many legs, smooth and sharply bent black that remind you of the scariest spiders that haunt your nightmares. This is your guard. 

Your breath hitches and your hands start to sweat. You do your best to turn your grimace into a polite smile. 

This is a person, not a spider. He is a person who is here to protect me, and you will not let him know how scary you find him. 

You try to calm your nerves and convince yourself to relax as much as possible, trying to avoid offending your guard. Your sisters are eyeing you, trying to gauge your reaction. With pitying looks directed your way, they know how hard this will be for you. 

“Hello, I’m Vivie. You must be my guard?” Your voice comes out higher than normal, and cracks. You hold your shaking hand out for him, but he does not reach for it. With a friendly smile he responds, bowing his head.

“Yes, Princess. My name is Rhavor and I will be guarding you. It is a pleasure to meet you, your highness.” His voice is like velvet, helping to calm your nerves a bit. Your hand lowers and you give a nervous smile.

“Likewise, Rhavor.”

Saving you from what is turning into a bit of an awkward silence, your father comes in and everyone is seated, Rhavor across from you. He does not use a chair, only tucks his long legs under himself and settles in, a sight that you found equally adorable and stomach churning.

Adorable? When have I ever thought anything a spider did was less than horrifying?

Your father is ecstatic with his guard choices, and seems to feel safer and more at ease with more men loyal to him milling about. Conversation flows easily for the rest of the table; your sisters help keep your mind off of your guard and help you avoid embarrassing yourself. Sitting down you do a bit better at speaking to Rhavor since his bottom half is obscured by the table. 

Your father briefs everyone about what is expected, the dark elf going on about rotations and such. One of the rooms below yours in the tower is being converted into a bedroom for Rhavor, so he can be close when you sleep. A twenty four hour guard is worth nothing if he is not able to rest as well, you suppose.

There is no time to slowly adjust to Rhavor’s presence, as the first thing you are met with in the morning is him standing outside his door in the tower awaiting your arrival. Still bleary eyed from sleep, the start you give at his presence was unrestrained. With red cheeks you tell him good morning, and the two of you start your day. 

After a breakfast that was quite nerve racking for you, Rhavor asks about your schedule and things you like to do. You are thankful for him leading the conversation, and glad he does not seem deterred by your short answers. 

“I hope you do not feel as though you will need to change your schedule because of my presence, I assure you I will be of no disturbance to you, princess.” He seems so kind, it really is a pity he makes you so nervous. 

“In that case, I think I will be headed to the gardens, then.” You stop yourself before inviting him to tag along, knowing that he will anyway. You float around the gardens, stopping to chat with some of the staff tending to things. You make your way to your favorite spot in the garden, a gazebo your father had made for you after you read of one in one of your romance novels. It is covered in pink, gauzy drapes and holds flowers and cushions all over the floor. It is your favorite hide away, a place you always feel most comfortable. It is here, with Rhavor facing away from you standing at the entrance, eyes trained ahead, that you let yourself take a good look at him. 

You start with his legs, all eight of them long and powerful. They’re all sharp angles, and connect to his thick thorax, peppered with thin hairs. The black of it transitions into the blue-grey of his skin. His torso is covered in elegant steel armor with black stones near the neck, and his weapon stands next to him, a long scythe with a black blade. His face is angular, his larger eyes are framed by some of the most beautiful eyelashes you have ever seen, and a long black braid flows down his back. You shake your head, clearing those thoughts away. You avert your eyes and go back to your reading. 

The days go by and you continue to make small talk with Rhavor, your constant shadow. You become less scared of him as well, the nerves you feel in his presence feeling more like butterflies in your stomach rather than a pit in it. You even start to make him tea and insist he sits with you more, instead of just always standing guard at the door of whatever room you are in. You include him in more of your daily activities, and he starts to feel like more of an over-armored companion that a guard.

Sitting in the gazebo, you are once again trying to knit yourself a blanket. While you could just ask your father for another, you want to know how to do things for yourself. Being a princess is no excuse to not have any skills, and there is something so satisfying about making something. However, it’s the third time you’ve had to start over and it just looks like a pile of knots is sitting in your lap. You hear Rhavor stifling in his laughter, and your head shoots up, a playful glare on your face.

“You think you could do much better then?” you tease at him, not expecting his response. 

“Well, yes,” he lets out a huff of laughter, “I’m a drider, I could make you a blanket with my eyes closed. It’s as natural as spinning a web for me,” He scuttles closer, and sits down across from you on the nest of blankets and cushions. “Would you like me to show you, princess?” The teasing inflection in his voice causes your face to heat up, and you nod to avoid your voice cracking. 

You hand him the knotted yarn and he works in silence, deftly rolling it all back up into a ball for you. The sight of your large, imposing drider guard rolling up pink yarn for you makes your heart skip a beat, and you wonder how you were so scared of him. 

“Okay, watch me and you follow.” He passes you back the yarn, your hands brushing his.

“What are you going to use though?” You had only brought one ball of yarn, after all.

“Uh-my silk. Hopefully that doesn’t bother you, princess?” 

“Oh, no, not at all.” It was a very spidery thing for him to do, so you hoped it wouldn’t bother you. That being said, when he lifted his two smaller front legs and a bit of silk came out of an opening located where a human navel was, you found it rather cute. He spun the thin string into a thicker consistency, and told you to follow his lead.

“Um, it’s a bit hard to follow like this, I’m going to sit next to you.” You sat down closer so you could follow his actions, so close you brushed against one of his legs. Your heart sped up, but you concentrated at the task at hand. He was truthful about his level of skill, and he was also a great teacher. Soon enough you had the hang of it, and were almost a quarter way done with your blanket. 

“Thank you!” you beamed up at him, excited to show your sisters. 

“Oh, of course your highness. You are a quick learner, it made my job very easy.” He smiled down, polite as always. 

“I have to admit, your silk is quite lovely,” you compliment, running your hands over his finished work. He sputters at your compliment, his cheeks turning a darker purple. Was your compliment inappropriate, you wonder?

You bring your blanket to dinner to show everyone. Your father, sisters, and yourself sit at a smaller table slightly elevated, while long tables with benches are aligned in rows for the staff and guard. When your father took the throne he made this change, stating that anyone who was living under the same roof and worked so hard for the kingdom should eat together as well. You gush about the blanket and how Rhavor taught you, and you see Anna smirking at you. 

“What?” you ask, confused about this look.

“Nothing, just seems someone is growing fond of their guard after all.” she speaks into your ear, delighted in the wide eyed look you give back to her. You seek out Rhavor in the crowd, afraid he heard her but knowing that is in no way possible. When you spot him, he is already looking at you. You smile at him, and turn back to Anna.

“So what if I am?”  you turn back to your dinner, permanent smile gracing your features. 

The following days are filled with storms, and you have been spending the majority of your time going back and forth from the library to your bedroom. You also managed to make it to the market before the storms, and found yourself with more yarn. It’s astonishing how much more you can bring home when you have a four handed drider to help you carry things. You decided to make blankets as gifts for your family and friends before winter. As you are planning the colors for your father's blanket and Rhavor is reading in a chair by the fire, a spider falls down and lands on your hand. It crawls along your wrist and you scream, frantically shaking it off of you. Rhavor is next to you before you can blink, focused on any threat.

“What is it? Princess what is wrong?” His voice is deeper and more serious than you are used to, and when you point to the spider that had fallen on the blanket with a trembling hand, Rhavor’s brow furrows. He looks back at you and your panicked form, and picks the spider up and brings it out of your room, promptly returning. 

“Well that rather explains things then, doesn’t it? No wonder I make you so nervous, bit of an arachnophobe are you?” 

You nod at Rhavor, eyes downcast and shame coloring your cheeks. 

“No need to be shy about it princess, I understand that my looks can be rather horrific, especially to one as sweet as yourself. I’m sure you're much more used to pretty noble boys coming around than those who look like me,” he teased lightly, but you could sense the underlying insecurity in his voice.

“That isn’t it at all! Rhavor, you are my friend and I very much enjoy having you around, please don’t doubt that, really. And you aren’t horrific, I think you’re quite the opposite. I’ve just always been scared of spiders and well,” you motion to his lower body. “I’m just nervous but I’m getting better about it, and it has nothing to do with you and everything to do with my silly phobia.” You plead with him, your eyes starting to get teary. 

You felt horrible. He is your friend and you made him feel ugy, which wasn’t the case at all. Anyone with eyes could see how beautiful he was, drider or not. Over the past few weeks spent with him, the nerves you experienced in his presence seemed less about the fact that he was a drider and more about the feelings you felt growing for him. 

“And it’s Vivie, not princess. Even dad wonders why you call me that still.” you scoff at him, turning away so he can no longer see your tear rimmed eyes. He spoke softly now, weary of your feelings.

“I did not wish to upset you Vivie, that is the last thing I ever want to do. I am your guard and -” you abruptly cut him off, spinning on your feet.

“You are my friend.” 

“Are all of your friends employees of your father?” he inquired, trying to make a point he was beneath you. This is not how you took this statement, however. 

You inhaled sharply, and the tears finally spilled over. His words cut deeply, many implying over the years that people only befriend you since your father is a king. This also proved to be true on many occasions, making you weary of people and their intentions. 

“I didn’t realize you were only doing the job my father paid you for. I’m sorry I mistook that for your friendship. As you’ve probably realized, I don’t have very many.”  Your lower lip was quivering and you were sniffling, unable to stop yourselves. You have always worn your heart on your sleeve, and hiding your emotions didn’t come easily. 

Seeing your face and hearing how you took his statement, Rhavor felt all the air leave his body at once. He started towards you, and took a step back, wringing his lower pair of hands. 

“Vivie, that is not what I meant, please. I am only trying to point out that you are a princess and I am the man who is in charge of keeping you safe. I am not worthy of your friendship or kindness, but it amazes me that you give it so freely.” These words softly left his lips, and he finally came a bit closer. 

“You have my friendship, princess, do not doubt that. You have my friendship, my loyalty, and so much more of me than I ever intended to give,” he spoke softly, his hand coming up as if to rest on your face, but he does not touch you. You lean your cheek into his palm, closing the distance. 

“What else do I have of yours, then?” you inquire softly, gazing up at his starry eyes. 

“My heart, Vivie, should you ever require such a silly thing” His thumb runs over your cheek, wiping away your tears. 

“I don’t think it’s silly at all,” you whisper back.  

“No?” he asks

“No,” you reply, your breaths mingling now. 

You lean up, closing the final gap between you two. Your lips brush against his, the kiss wet from your tears. Your cheeks brush against his pointed mouthparts, now making you shiver not in fear but delight. He releases a deep, wounded sound, and pulls you in closer to him. Being able to pull those noises from a creature like himself makes you feel powerful, and a thrill surges through you. Your hands run down his muscular shoulders, landing on his biceps. You feel them tighten beneath your touch, and a mewl escapes your mouth. His hands caress your face, and his lower hands are around your waist, pressing you against the length of him. 

He pulls away, his breath coming out heavy. A smile graces his features, matching the grin on yours. Your fear of spiders may not be gone, and may never go away completely, but your fear of this drider is a different story. 

[joonapeach]

you, me & a little bit of the future [mlb]

summary: Marinette expects some disaster on her first outing alone with Adrien. She just doesn’t expect that disaster to be her future self passing off a baby for her to take care of with Adrien.

alternatively… two idiots obliviously in love cooing over their daughter while acting like they have no idea whose kid this is.

author’s note: i spent my birthday writing mlb fanfiction because that is my biggest source of serotonin. also, if you follow me for bts and have no idea wtf mlb is - first of all, sorry. second of all - give me your brain bc i really wish i could rewatch this dumb show for the first time.

also reposted on ao3

[11.2k words of a fluff/humor and time travel x accidental baby acquisition trope]

If Marinette was still breathing by the end of today… she decided that she would give her life to worshipping Alya.

The girl was a magician, maybe even an angel. There was no possible reason for Marinette to be standing here in an empty museum, waiting for Adrien to fetch a bottle of water for her and yet… here she was?

“Alya, first of all, how did you make this happen?” Marinette squeaked on the phone, looking around to make sure she was out of Adrien’s earshot. “And second of all - I don’t know if I can do this!”

Alya’s familiar laugh came through the call. “Relax, girl! Adrien wanted Nino to go inspect his new wax statue with him but of course, Nino just needed a nudge from your greatest friend in the world to give up his invitation to you.”

Scratch worshipping just Alya. If Marinette hadn’t combusted by the end of this museum outing, she would worship both Nino and Alya together.

“I love you.”

“Try to tell that to Adrien today.”

“I will,” Marinette nodded with so much excitement that it was a wonder her head didn’t spin off. “I promise. I’ll make the most of the opportunity you’ve given to me. You’re the best, Alya!”

Alya only laughed, clearly amused by her friend’s joy. “Well, good luck and tell me how it goes!” she said before cutting the call.

Marinette sighed dreamily. Alone in a museum of art with Adrien, the greatest work of art she’d ever seen… it all felt like a dream.

She paused, quickly pinching herself. The pain registered a second later and she laughed giddily. This was no dream. It really was happening.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted Adrien walking towards her. A bottle of water was clutched in one hand as he waved with another. Was it possible to melt from someone’s smile? Marinette hadn’t thought it likely till she traced the curve of Adrien’s lips with her eyes just now.

“Here you go, Marinette,” he said cheerfully. He reached for her hand, putting the bottle on her palm. It was a relief that the water felt like ice to her skin because Adrien’s bare second of a touch made her scared of combusting.

“Th-thanks!”

“No problem! Thanks for coming today. I know it’s such a short notice since Nino cancelled in the morning, but I really wanted to see the wax statue with a friend,” he said softly. “I’m glad it’s you.”

Glad it’s you? How could anyone say such things to a person with that heartstopping grin and then be so oblivious to the world falling in love with them?

Marinette did her best to yelp out a semblance of a response, giving a toothy smile in the silences of the words she couldn’t find. It seemed to satisfy Adrien enough who only laughed and said, “come on!” as he dragged her through the empty museum.

Adrien’s hand. Touching mine. 

It really would be a miracle if she was still breathing by the end of today.

/

Things were going perfectly. Well, as perfectly as things could ever go in Marinette’s life.

In a total of ten minutes, their arms had brushed 13 times and he’d laughed 5 times at something she’d said. He’d given her his show-stopping, sincere smile 3 times and she’d come near to death from them 2.5 times - the 0.5 she subtracted was when she wasn’t looking and only caught sight of his grin at the very last second.

Despite the empty silence of the museum, Marinette was surprised at just how two people alone could fill the room. Of course, it helped that one of the two people was the equivalent to the worth of a country itself but still… something about the familiarity in Adrien surprised her. He’d left her speechless and lovesick but there was also a feeling in comfort in being with him.

There was only ever one other person she felt like that around.

“Hey Marinette, I’m just gonna go to the bathroom real quick!” Adrien said, with another friendly smile she chose not to look at it too closely. When she nodded, he ran off and she stood in the empty room.

Finally, her heart could take a break from racing.

She exhaled, looking around until a sudden flash of light almost blinded her. She jumped back, ready to say the words spots on at the sight of danger till she frowned at what she heard.

“Do you ever not make this more difficult than it needs to be, kitty?!”

Marinette stilled. She recognized that voice. Yet, it was still not as familiar as the one she heard next.

“You know I can’t paws an opportunity to be entangled with you, my lady.”

The other voice scoffed. “That was terrible, even for you. Now, get off me.”

There was a certain threshold of weirdness Marinette had learned to tolerate in her time as Ladybug. Evil butterflies around the city, mini talking God-pets, monsters popping up during her Physics class… that was all fine.

Hearing her own voice repeated back to her was not. This was treading on a new kind of weird.

Marinette hesitantly stepped forward, following the voices. Behind a big column, she could hear the two bickering people. She checked on Tikki in her purse, who was fast asleep. She couldn’t wake her up for a threat she still hadn’t confirmed.

“Now… she’s bound to be here somewhere,” the voice like hers said. “Chat, can you go bring Emma through another portal?”

“That’s an awful lot of faith you have in a fifteen year old girl to say yes without even asking.”

Marinette heard the amusement in her doppelganger’s voice. “I think I’d know my fifteen year old self better than you.”

Another flash of light came and suddenly, the conversation stopped. Marinette’s heart was back to racing, this time from apprehension as she looked behind the column. 

She was certain. This was not in the threshold of weirdness she could learn to tolerate.

An older, fitter Ladybug was staring her in the face. Her raven hair was bunched in longer buns around her neck and she towered over Marinette in height. Everything about her exuded confidence and the presence of… a real superhero.

The only telltale sign Marinette could find of her being a person was the awkward, gaping smile she gave.

“Um… hi,” Ladybug said, giving a stiff wave.

Marinette blinked. Then she screamed.

Ladybug raced forward, clamping her hand over Marinette’s mouth. “Oh my God, was I always so easily frightened?” she mumbled to herself in distress. “Marinette, it’s me. I mean- it’s you. It’s you-me. Hi.”

Hesitantly, the hand over Marinette’s mouth slipped away. “What do you mean you-me?” she narrowed her eyes, an urgent distrust in her voice. “Who are you?”

Ladybug’s voice softened. “I’m you. From the future, ten years from now. I’m twenty six year old Marinette,” she grinned, fluffing her two buns. “Pretty cute, right?”

Marinette’s guard didn’t lower. She backed away slowly. “I don’t believe it. You must be an akumatized person… or a trick from Hawkmoth! What do you want with me?”

Ladybug stretched her limbs. “I can’t even blame you for being on edge. I know how tense things were when I was your age,” she mumbled.

“Hello? Who are you?” Marinette repeated. She put her hands on her hips, trying to make herself look more intimidating. “If you’re really me then you should-”

“How’s the Adrien-in-white poster project going?” Ladybug sighed, asking with a resigned shrug. “Right about now, the new spring shoots must’ve come out, right? That shot of him in the white polo by the trees is the prettiest. The green background makes his eyes pop and makes him look like an angel des-”

“Descended from heaven,” Marinette blinked, breathlessly. “Oh my God.”

“Still don’t believe me? Around last month, you broke your phone and asked for three months’ allowance to get it repaired instead of just buying a new one because you told everyone you had some design files that you forgot to back-up, when it was really just saved photos of Adrien from-”

“Okay, okay, I believe you!” Marinette cut her off, red creeping up her neck and turning her face into a bright tomato. 

Despite her embarrassment, Ladybug only smiled wistfully. She ruffled Marinette’s hair. “Sorry to crash your date, little me,” she said with a grin. “But I have a huge favor to ask.”

“A favor?”

Ladybug nodded. “Yup. Straight from the future. Your twenty six year old self kinda depends on you right now.”

Marinette squared her shoulders. “What is it?” she asked determinedly. “Is Hawkmoth still causing trouble? What do I need to do?”

Ladybug laughed, suddenly looking sheepish. “Um… it’s a little less complicated than that,” she admitted. “You see… you- I mean, me… we kind of are in the midst of a little fight against a villain in the future. It’s crazy. We’ve been fighting for two days and he still won’t let go.”

“Do you need my help?” Marinette asked with confidence. A fight in the future… she could do that. Paris was her priority in any case.

Ladybug giggled. “Well, yes. But not in fighting. You see, in between all the battles, I keep having to go home and detransform because of a little thing. A very cute, little thing. Everyone is so caught up in the chaos of the city that I’m having trouble being Ladybug and Marinette at the same time. That’s where I thought little me could come in handy?”

Marinette raised her eyebrows.

“Little Mari,” Ladybug said with an adoring smile. “How would you feel about babysitting?”

Marinette’s jaw dropped. Her head turned left and right, scanning the empty museum before looking back at Ladybug. “Do I have to babysit Manon again on the only day I get to be with Adrien?”

Ladybug laughed. “Well, it’s not Manon this time. This kid’s a little younger. She’s almost one and she’s an angel. I think you’ll quite like her,” she grinned mischievously. “You see, it’s my daughter.”

Her daughter?

No words came to her mind except the phrase repeating. Her daughter.

Marinette was staring at a twenty six year old version of her, far more confident and chic than her and now, this woman had a daughter. Marinette would have a daughter in ten years. 

A wide smile broke out on her face. At sixteen, she only ever knew the kind of love she could see around her, for her parents, her friends, Adrien, for her partner… but now, one day, there’d be more to that. Suddenly, she couldn’t stop smiling.

“My… daughter?”

“Yup. Congrats future-mom. We’re quite a good mother if I do say so myself,” Ladybug smirked. “Though I’m pretty sure our husband is half the reason why we’re so good.”

Now, a blush spread across Marinette’s cheeks. A husband. Marinette couldn’t even imagine having a boyfriend, not with how tongue-tied she got around every boy she liked but somewhere in the future was a man she loved who loved her back. A man who was raising a child with her.

At her shell-shocked expression, Ladybug laughed affectionately. “I didn’t even tell you a thing about our daughter or husband but you look like you’re already on cloud nine. You really aren’t ready for the future yet. Good thing you have ten years to prepare.”

“Who… who is my husband?”

Now, a twinkle of amusement flashed in Ladybug’s eyes. “No cheating. All I’ll tell you is… he’s a lovely man. You love him very much. A bit embarrassingly much.” There was a hidden joke somewhere in Ladybug’s words but Marinette didn’t laugh, still too shaken by the prospect of being married with kids of her own.

“What’s… can I ask my daughter’s name?”

“I’m surprised you need to ask.”

Marinette couldn’t fight a smile. “Emma,” she laughed. “Well, I’m happy our future husband wasn’t against our suggestion.”

“Oh, he can’t refuse a single thing we say. You’ll see,” Ladybug smiled. “Well, hopefully at some point. If we manage to end the fight and keep Emma from crying all in a day’s work… so can I trust myself to take care of her?”

Marinette nodded excitedly. “Of course.”

“Thank you little Mari,” Ladybug sighed in relief. “You won’t believe how badly I needed this help.”

Was it possible to be starstruck by your own future self? Marinette felt she was hanging off every word Ladybug was saying, drawn in by the assurance and ease she spoke with. She wondered if this was how the rest of the world felt now when she spoke as Ladybug.

“Anything for you!” Marinette blinked with glittering eyes. “You must… you must be doing so well. Ten years and you’re… wow. That’s me.”

Ladybug giggled. “You’re doing well too, you know. For one, I’m glad you haven’t combusted on your date with Adrien yet.”

Marinette flushed, before blinking in shock. Adrien. “Wait! I have to tell Adrien I’ll have to cancel! So I can take Emma home while you-”

“Oh, I don’t think you need to do that. You can keep her around with him,” an entertained look passed in Ladybug’s eyes. “I think it’ll be good practice.”

“Practice for what?”

Ladybug cocked an innocent brow, suddenly distracted by her surroundings. Marinette was about to repeat the question till the familiar flash of light from earlier came again. Chat Noir came tumbling out of the portal, a baby strapped to his chest.

Marinette blinked. If she was looking at twenty six year old Ladybug then… this was twenty six year old Chat Noir.

She swallowed. The years had been- would be kind to her kitty… if she could still even call him that in the future. 

She was far too used to the flirty school boy under the name of Chat Noir but this was someone else entirely. For the first time in her life, Marinette found herself at a loss for words in his presence.

Chat’s eyes flickered from Ladybug, a glance filled with lasting adoration, to Marinette. A sudden amusement crossed his expression that Marinette had trouble deciphering. Somewhere between glee and satisfaction.

He inched closer, offering a hand to shake. “Well hello there,” he grinned before looking at Ladybug and saying, “you know, I almost forgot how adorable you were.”

Marinette squeaked. “You know who I am?”

“In the future, he does,” Ladybug reassured, poking Chat’s nose in an all-too-familiar way. “Don’t fret. He’s just playing.”

Chat looked almost offended by the statement. “I am not. I mean it sincerely. You were the cutest thing at sixteen.”

Ladybug cocked a teasing brow. “Is that really a thing to say about just a friend-”

Chat pressed a finger to Ladybug’s lips, throwing a smirk Marinette’s way. “You can’t be handing out spoilers like that for your mini-self. Look how innocent she is. We can’t deprive mini Chat Noir of the satisfaction when it all comes out in the open.”

Ladybug scoffed. “This is why I didn’t want you to accompany me. You’re just getting a kick out of seeing me like this, aren’t you?”

“Can you blame me? It’s hard to keep a straight face when I now know what’s really going on in the sixteen year old pretty princess’ brain,” he said with a wink.

Marinette’s heart faltered at the display of adoration and comfort between the two future selves of her and her partner. She and Chat were always close but this… this was new. The doting expression in Chat’s eyes when he looked at Ladybug wasn’t new but the reciprocated devotion in her own future self’s eyes was.

He was still in love with her, ten years later - that was easy to tell. But she wondered how to interpret the feeling that made her feel like suddenly, she was too.

Ladybug reached for Chat’s chest, unwrapping a small sleeping baby from the blankets. Ladybug pressed a loving kiss on the baby’s forehead before looking at Marinette. The two shared a silent smile.

Gently, the baby was placed in Marinette’s arms. Her heart paced at the weight of a life cradling against her chest. 

A sudden anxiousness pooled her thoughts. “Can I… do you really think it’s the best idea to give your kid to me?”

Chat was the one to answer. “It’s your kid too, Marinette.”

Her name, her real name, off his lips made her shiver. There was a future in which he called her by that. It sounded so pleasant to her ears that she almost wished that that future could be now.

“But… you know what I mean! Not sixteen year old, clumsy me! It’s your kid. The me who’s put together and… you know, can actually handle walking with a child and not tripping over air and-”

Chat’s laugh broke her rant. “The fact that you think you’re any less clumsy ten years in the future is adorable. I don’t think you’ll ever recover from that.”

“Chat! I’m right here!” Ladybug poked the tall, towering kitten away before turning to Marinette. “You’ll be fine. I promise. You can trust your future self’s judgment, can’t you?”

Marinette swallowed, glancing down at the girl in her arms. For the first time, she looked carefully at the daughter she would one day hold for the rest of her life. She was a beautiful sight. Her cherub cheeks stuck out in her sleep and strands of dark, midnight hair just like Marinette’s covered her face. She wondered whether her eyes were blue too, just like hers.

Marinette smiled. “Okay. I’ll do my best.”

Ladybug grinned, giving a squeeze to Marinette’s shoulder. “I owe you. Well, technically I don’t because future-you has a lot of good in store that current-you would never believe. But thanks,” she laughed. With ease, her hand slipped into Chat Noir’s as she walked away with a wave.

Marinette’s eyes zeroed in on the sight. At the last second, Chat Noir glanced back at her and a strange feeling leapt through her heart. He smiled. “Don’t worry Marinette. You’re a natural mother.”

The two disappeared in another flash too quick for Marinette to notice. She blinked, thinking of the words Chat had left her with and the intertwined hands… what ever was in store for her future with Chat? Surely… surely, what she was suspecting couldn’t be-

In her arms, the baby moved. Marinette stilled, glancing at her daughter as she woke from her nap. Her arms stretched and she showed a warm smile as soon as she looked up at Marinette. Emma.

“Maman,” Emma said happily. Marinette had never thought she’d find a word she loved the sound of more than Adrien. Now she had.

When she stared at her daughter, she memorized every small feature. This time, she got to see her eyes, wide and awake. While Emma had Marinette’s dark hair, her eyes were a deep shade of green.

/

Adrien had never considered himself a narcissist. But looking at the broad, tall body of his future self was making him reconsider his stance.

“Plagg. Are you seeing this? I’m so cool,” Adrien grinned excitedly, staring at the Chat Noir in front of him. “This is the best day ever.”

Chat grumbled, hiding his face with a few fingers. Even his fingers were big enough to cover his face. Adrien blinked at what ten years was going to do to him. Despite his title of a model, he hated to indulge in complimenting himself but at this second… he could only say that there was no way Ladybug could reject his twenty six year old self. Adrien grinned with the thought. He could wait ten years to woo his lady if this was the payoff.

“Can you listen, kid?” Chat sighed. “I don’t have much time to give you a pep talk before Ladybug starts panicking at why I’m not back yet,” he mumbled to himself.

Adrien could only laugh, still on a high. “You’re me! From the future!”

Plagg’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of diet plan is future-you on?”

“I don’t know, but isn’t it amazing?!” Adrien said with a grin. “Why are you here? Wait… you’re here to give me a message, aren’t you?”

Chat took a few seconds to stare his younger self in the face. Adrien wondered why it looked like he was on the verge of exasperation. “I wish I could give you ten messages. But even then, I don’t know if it’ll help your hopeless case,” Chat said with a snicker.

Adrien’s mouth dropped. “Plagg… is my future-self bullying me right now?”

Plagg shrugged. “I have no objections.”

“Listen,” a hand clamped down Adrien’s shoulder. Adrien squeaked an inhumane sound at the grip of his future self’s hand. “You know that girl you have a crush on?”

“Ladybug,” Adrien nodded with a lovesick smile.

Chat’s lips tightened into a thin line, unamused. “This is gonna be harder than I thought,” he sighed. “Was I really this oblivious?” he mumbled to Plagg, completely ignoring Adrien’s distraught confusion.

Plagg laughed. “Oh, this isn’t being oblivious. This is just denying the truth. You love acting like you have no idea. I hope you’re a bit better in the future, for my mental health’s sake.”

“Plagg, shouldn’t you be siding with the version of me that actually belongs in your time?!” Adrien whined. “What’s this about?”

Plagg and Chat shared a look. Chat fought a small smile before trying again. “Alright buddy. See, in a few minutes, I’m gonna head back to the future - we’re in the middle of an epic fight, you’d love it - and I’ve left my daughter to babysat by you. It won’t be too long… maybe three hours. Actually, make it four. I should take my wife out on a date after and thank her for putting up with me despite how stupid I was at sixteen. Can you manage four hours?”

Adrien gulped. In just one sentence alone, words like ‘wife’, ‘daughter’ and ‘future’ had left his mind in shock. He wasn’t sure which part to start with, when so much information had been thrown his way in a moment’s breath.

“I’m married?!”

Chat grinned proudly. “Happily.”

Adrien’s eyes brightened. “Am I married to Ladybug?”

Chat’s smile grew with delight. “Even better,” he sighed dreamily. “You’re married to the girl you have a crush on.”

“That’s Ladybug!” Adrien spluttered excitedly.

Chat sighed, part in amusement and part in resignation. “Even if I spelled it out for you, there really is no hope,” he mumbled. “But anyway. Just make sure Emma stays safe, okay? We’ll be back soon so there shouldn’t be any trouble. Not with Marinette taking care of her anyway.”

Adrien’s eyes widened. “Marinette? You’re giving her to Marinette?” he coughed out the question. “But she’s my daughter!”

Chat bit the inside of his cheek to fight a smile. “Well, that’s all the message I wanna give. Marinette’s going to be outside with a beautiful little girl and you just have to babysit for a short while. Whatever Marinette says, listen to her, okay? She knows best.”

Chat turned but Adrien quickly grabbed at the man’s hand. Was that rock he was gripping or really a human’s body under a suit?

“What?”

“Well… that can’t be all. There’s so much I have to know!” Adrien blinked innocently. “Like… does Ladybug end up being my first girlfriend? How long do I wait to propose to her, because honestly, I think I’d propose as soon as I’m eighteen, and am I a good dad? Do I quit modelling? And what the hell do I eat to become as buff as you?”

Chat hid the growing smile on his face. He gave a finger salute to Plagg before turning to open a portal. With one leg through the flashing light, Adrien yelled out in haste, “aren’t you gonna give your younger self any advice?!”

Chat laughed, looking back for only one last second. “How about you just try to figure out who’s the girl you have a crush on first, buddy?”

/

Maybe Marinette was a natural mother. It would explain why she was already ready to give her life for a girl she’d only known for minutes now.

At sixteen, Marinette was always sure she wanted kids but that dream always used to be a small piece of her bigger dream with Adrien. Her dream of kids and a hamster and a house in the South of France for them to retire together. Now with a glimpse into the future, her own plans didn’t look like they needed to be so small anymore.

Her future self hadn’t mentioned Adrien at all, apart from just casual teasing. What did that mean?

“What do you think, Emma?” Marinette cooed at the girl in her arms. “She didn’t seem to care much about Adrien but she was looking at Chat like he was her whole world… does that mean my future self isn’t in love with Adrien anymore?”

“Maman,” Emma said in response with a smile. Marinette’s heart softened.

She chewed on her lip in thought. She was holding a child she would eventually have with a man she’d call her husband… and unlike her sixteen year old self’s aspirations, her twenty six year old self hadn’t mentioned anything of Adrien being that man.

Was Marinette missing something? Was Adrien really not the boy for her?

But… her heart belonged to him, she was sure of it. There was no wedding, no kids, no house she could picture that didn’t have him in some way.

Marinette remembered how Ladybug’s touch lingered on Chat’s body, almost too fondly and affectionately to be considered the same as the relationship present-day Ladybug and Chat had. Like an ice-cold realization being dumped over her, Marinette froze.

“Oh my God Emma,” she said breathlessly. “I end up with Chat Noir.”

Emma giggled, mumbling something that Marinette chose to interpret as affirmation. Unable to stay stoic from Emma’s adorable smile, Marinette burst out in laughter.

“Oh my God,” she repeated. “That sneaky kitty… he must’ve done something. Did you see how future Maman was looking at him, Emma? She was saying his teasing was annoying but then she was touching him every chance she got… am I going to be like that? Me and… my Chat Noir? Is he going to be my…”

Marinette couldn’t bring herself to say the word. Fate truly had a twisted turn if she eventually gave into Chat’s wooing and was just as lovesick for him as he was for her. The thought made her giggle but her heart fluttered.

“He’s gonna have a field day with this one, little Emma. If he finds out I met our married versions, he might die of excitement before we get there,” Marinette laughed, brushing Emma’s hair from her face. “I wonder what it is about Chat that makes me finally fall in love.”

Marinette cradled the baby girl close to her, letting herself indulge in the guilty thoughts of love she would usually shut off for her loyalty to Adrien. “You know what the crazy part is, Emma? Little Maman doesn’t even have a problem with any of this. It would’ve been nice if it was Adrien but… I think I get it now. Adrien’s a crush but to really be with someone, I would want it to be my other half.”

Marinette sighed. Were her feelings so fickle? Suddenly, her heart was warm with the thought of a friend she never once considered before. It felt less like two years of feelings for Adrien had dissipated but two years of feelings for Chat Noir had come to the surface after seeing her daughter.

“What do you think, Emma? Is Chat a good papa?” Marinette giggled, joking with her daughter who only nuzzled into Marinette’s chest. She held her tighter, only turning around when she heard her name called.

“Marinette!”

The smile on Adrien’s face was so blinding that Marinette almost had to step back. The boy was definitely not this happy when he’d ran off to the bathroom.

Their eyes met and Marinette flushed from the sheer joy in his smile. He looked down, his gaze landing upon Emma.

“Oh! Adrien- um- this is… well, it’s a bit tough to explain. You see, I kind of just got asked by my… my aunt! My aunt came and dropped off my daughter- her daughter. My niece! She’s a bit busy so I just have to keep an eye out for her for a few hours and… you don’t mind, do you?”

Marinette watched Adrien’s eyes carefully for a flicker of annoyance at the sudden responsibility. She could only find warmth.

Surely, a boy couldn’t be this happy from having to babysit someone else’s kid?

He inched closer, giving a soft smile to Emma. For a second, Marinette forgot how to breathe. The sight of her first love and her first daughter meeting made her forget words.

“What’s her name?”

“Emma,” Marinette answered softly. Emma reached out for Adrien almost instantly, ready to be carried by him even at first glance. The familiarity she held for Adrien almost worried her when she remembered that there was a strong chance that Adrien and her remained friends in the future… Emma was likely recognizing her Uncle Adrien from another time.

“Can I hold her?” he asked hesitantly and Marinette nodded with a smile.

Adrien cradled the girl to his chest with a gentleness Marinette didn’t expect. It was hard enough seeing Adrien so out of reach every single day of her life but seeing him hold her daughter almost like… like she was his…

Marinette gulped painfully.

The future was beautiful and kind, but there wouldn’t be this. There wouldn’t be a beautiful, young man who got to be Marinette’s first love yet also hold the title of her daughter’s father. Still, she smiled. She had ten years to come to terms with it.

“Hello Emma,” Adrien laughed, a soft finger touching her cheeks. “You probably don’t know me yet but… I’m going to do everything I can to take care of you for as long as I can,” he grinned, almost too fatherly for Marinette’s comfort.

“Papa,” Emma said with a giggle.

Marinette’s heart squeezed. She didn’t blame little Emma for her confusion - Adrien did share the same hair and eyes as Chat that it might’ve thrown off the little girl. But she didn’t correct her daughter. She had a lifetime of parenting to do with her partner, so she’d let herself have today to pretend that it could’ve been her first love.

As she walked away in the museum, Adrien trailed behind with Emma in his arms. He said something to the little girl that Marinette didn’t quite catch fully. It sounded an awful lot like, “yes, Emma. It’s your papa,” but Marinette laughed. Her wishful thinking deluded her too much for her own good sometimes.

/

At sixteen, Adrien knew he was nowhere ready to be a father. He could hardly understand what it meant to be a good son, to be enough to earn the affections of his own father, to be able to start thinking about how to be a good father.

And yet… was it supposed to be this easy?

Adrien was scared his daughter would repulse at the first sight of him but she came willingly into his arms. She rested with ease, her eyes widened at everything around her - eyes he noticed looked an awful lot like his mother’s -  and she laughed at the lame jokes he whispered in her ear, despite not understanding a word.

The apprehension Adrien felt in his chest was gone. This was slowly becoming the best day he’d had in a while.

Just as Emma kept calling him Papa, she called out for Marinette as Maman. At first, Marinette’s face paled when she saw Adrien hear it.

“Oh… uh, my niece, she… well, I look a lot like my aunt, haha! So, you know… she gets us mixed up. That’s probably why she calls you Papa too. You look an awful lot like her father. He’s got the… the same blond hair. And eyes. Even the smile at times,” Marinette blinked, her words trailing off.

Adrien only smiled. His eyes flickered between his daughter and Marinette. Her hair was exactly like Ladybug’s, smooth and dark like the night but it was also just like Marinette’s. He could tell what spurred his daughter’s confusion.

Yet, he still wondered… Why was Marinette the one who his future self had entrusted Emma to? Was it a decision that future Ladybug - his wife! - and his future self made together? Adrien chewed on his lip, unable to answer the question.

What had Chat Noir said before bolting for the future? Marinette knows best?

Adrien glanced at Marinette, the softness in her eyes when she looked at Emma and thought Adrien wasn’t looking. With the gentleness with which she cared for Emma in just a few moments, Adrien couldn’t deny that he had no problem trusting his daughter to her either. Marinette was always kind and there wasn’t a person in the world he thought higher of. 

Except for Ladybug. But it really couldn’t get better than that.

“So what should we do now?” Adrien asked. “We checked out my wax statue so that’s done.”

“Well… I guess I should take Emma home. My aunt will be back after a few hours and I’m sure you have things to do so-”

When Marinette came to take Emma from Adrien’s arms, he backed away protectively. She blinked, frowning at his behavior.

“Adrien?”

“Uh… Sorry. I’m a little attached to her,” he forced a laugh. Glancing back at his daughter, he smiled. Chat Noir had said that she’d be his for four hours so why would Adrien have to give her up now?

His lips tightened. As trustworthy as Marinette was, was it fair to give babysitting privileges to her rather than Emma’s father? Did future Ladybug trust an old friend more than she trusted her own young husband?

At that second, Emma burst into sudden tears. Adrien blinked, taken aback by the shrieking sound but before he could do anything, Marinette swooped in and took Emma in her arms. She wrapped her arms around the girl softly, moving her as gently as the wind and whispering quiet words in her ears.

How was Marinette so… natural at this?

He could see just why Marinette was the right choice to babysit, with her soft heart and tender touch and yet… the thought still stung. Ladybug was his wife in the future but she thought more of a friend than she did of him, despite all his love?

How was the future Chat Noir so content with this? Adrien frowned, revisiting every word Chat had said in their short conversation to scrutinize it. His future self hadn’t had any problem with Marinette either - he’d told Adrien to willingly let Marinette handle it all. 

When he spoke of his wife, he wore a smile that made Adrien think the future was perfect but surely, this was not the perfect he settled for. His future self had said he was happily married but in what world did a father have less right to his child than a friend of his wife’s?

A bitter taste crawled up Adrien’s mouth. He looked at his daughter to find some peace but when he did, all he could see was Marinette grinning and spinning the girl around. Emma now smiled, looking at Marinette with so much love in her eyes that Adrien wasn’t sure what to think next.

His wife… Chat had never said it was Ladybug. Perhaps Ladybug had dropped off his daughter in the past but Chat had never said it was his daughter with Ladybug. All he’d said was that he was happily married, to a girl even better than Ladybug, and to follow Marinette.

Adrien swallowed. Marinette brushed Emma against her cheek and laughed with a sound worth the brightness of a thousand suns. There was no girl on Earth who held that much love in her heart for a stranger’s baby. Not even Marinette, for all her goodness, could conjure up so much affection for a child she didn’t know.

A stirring feeling shook Adrien’s heart. Pretty Marinette, kind Marinette, Marinette with the shyness of a school-girl but the heart of an everyday superhero, Marinette with the passion of a youthful girl but the love of a woman who’d lived a long life… Marinette, the girl he’d buried his feelings for, for the fear he’d never be good enough to earn her affections back.

That Marinette… She was his future wife.

The smile that spread on Adrien’s face made him look like a fool, but he knew now that he was the same lovesick fool as the future Chat. This right here, in the comfort of the space between Marinette and him, and the daughter they’d one day have, was his family. He would find a family in this girl.

He had already found a family in her. Future Chat knew well enough, telling him to open his eyes and figure out the girl he had a crush on. Of course, Ladybug was his first love, built on admiration and respect, but Marinette was his future. She was the girl he’d become worthy of and the girl who’d give him a home after all his searching.

He blinked back the stinging feeling of tears. When he walked closer to Marinette and Emma, he smiled and rested his hand on Marinette’s shoulder.

“Hey Marinette,” he whispered gently, so not to distract her from their daughter. “Is it okay if I babysit Emma with you today?”

“Hm?” Marinette raised her eyebrows. Adrien fought the urge to brush down her forehead to smooth the crease. She smiled with a welcoming glance. “Of course you can Adrien.”

He grinned. “I guess we can go get ice cream. What do you think about that, little Emma?”

The girl only clapped, excited to see her two mini-parents together again. When she called Marinette Maman again, Adrien couldn’t hide his smile. 

/

Whatever it was Adrien was doing to both her heart, and Emma’s, Marinette wished he would stop.

It was hard enough in the simple moments of Adrien carrying Emma and Emma calling him Papa, but now Adrien was doing even more to seemingly fit in the gaps of her life that belonged to Chat Noir.

For one, his smiles were becoming far too frequent and brightening for her. She started the day off at the museum by counting every time he laughed and grinned at her but now, it was an endless supply that she lost track of. 

Not to mention… the hand holding.

Was Marinette truly counting the times their hands had brushed this morning? Because now, Adrien left no steps unturned to hold her hand in the streets of Paris. The three of them went around the city, stopping at little monuments and pretty spring sceneries, all together. It was too much like a family for Marinette to handle.

This was her future family and Adrien was creeping in. He was taking selfies of the three of them at every turn, spending money at random stalls for jewelry and snacks for Emma and he was even… blushing around Marinette?

“Here,” Adrien coughed, looking up at the distracting view of an empty sky. His hand was holding out a small box. “It’s for you.”

Marinette frowned, taking the box. Adrien was no stranger to giving gifts but Marinette was a stranger to the blushing, nervous delivery with which he handed her this gift. Inside was a small necklace with a flower charm on it.

“I just got it from the stall so it’s nothing spectacular, I know,” he laughed awkwardly. “But just to remember today. And I promise, I’ll get you a lot more great things in the future.”

“Oh Adrien, it’s lovely. You didn’t have to get me anything at all,” she blinked. For the sake of her racing heart, she chose to ignore the promise he attached at the end.

Adrien only gave a smile. When the three of them sat down at the bench near Andre’s ice cream stall, Marinette could only cry for relief from the relaxation.

“Wow. Carrying a baby across the city is more of a workout than I thought it’d be,” Marinette sighed. “Kids are a lot of work.”

Adrien nodded, taking Emma from Marinette’s arms. “Well, you don’t need to worry Marinette,” he smiled. “I think you’re a natural mother.”

Marinette’s breath hitched in her throat. The weight of Adrien’s words hung in the air and if she inhaled, she knew she would feel the effect of them crashing against her lungs.

Was today supposed to feel like a goodbye? Was it the reason that Emma appeared today, of all days? To guide her to Chat Noir… and to give her words from Adrien that she would carry forever?

Adrien thought she was a natural mother. It meant one thing to hear it from the man you’d marry but another thing to hear it from your first love. Marinette couldn’t help her heart from singing, from the thought that Adrien saw her so highly. 

“Marinette?”

“Huh?” Marinette blinked.

Adrien laughed, brushing his hair from his face. “Oh, I was just saying… aren’t you glad there’s a long time till we have kids?” he rubbed the nape of his neck.

“Absolutely. I’m going to spend a good long while enjoying being sixteen,” Marinette smiled, biting the inside of her cheek. “But then… I think I’m also excited. To work towards getting married.”

Adrien blinked, suddenly flustered. “Do you… do you already have someone in mind?”

Marinette laughed. She was glad Chat could never hear the words she was about to confess to Adrien. Although maybe one day, when the two of them were married and in-between battles, she might confess that she realized she was in love with him on the first date with the guy she’d rejected him all this time for.

“Yup,” Marinette said with a smile, thinking of the kitty’s wide eyes and dramatic flair for romance. “I’m going to marry my best friend.”

Adrien coughed and Marinette noticed the tips of his ears turning red. “Wow… that’s… that’s really sweet, Marinette,” he said, fighting a smile off his lips.

“I know. We’ve gone through so much together that I think that the rest of our lives together will be a fun ride,” Marinette laughed. Before Adrien could reply, Emma suddenly began wailing, mumbling for an ice cream.

“Oh, I’ll take her,” Adrien said with a charming smile. “You should rest after carrying her all day.”

“No, Adrien, it’s fine-”

“We’re babysitting together. Let me handle it,” he said, pushing her gently down. Marinette didn’t protest any further, watching Adrien carry Emma down the bridge to Andre’s.

She was sure he’d make a great father one day. While it was a shame it couldn’t be to her kids, Marinette still smiled at the thought that somewhere in the future, Adrien would be there with her.

/

Adrien pinched his nose.

How the hell did future Chat battle villains with a daughter? Did he leave her alone with Marinette and run off? Did Marinette know about her husband’s crime-fighting identity? Adrien had a million thoughts running through his mind as he stared up at the blob of a monster, terrorizing the city.

He was certain there wasn’t much that could be done. If he were a little smarter, like his future self, he’d pass off the responsibility of his daughter to someone he could trust. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option today.

Adrien searched the racing crowds desperately for Marinette, looking for any sign of her. For the first time, fear struck him cold at the thought of her safety. She wasn’t far from where the monster had appeared from… would she be okay?

Adrien shook the thought. She was strong. He was sure she’d be fine, wherever she was but… if only she were in sight. He hadn’t quite crossed the bridge with his wife-to-be about his secret identity but now he desperately needed Emma’s mother to handle her while he transformed.

“Papa,” Emma said, blinking.

“I know, Emma. I don’t know where Maman is… do you think Marinette would eat me alive if she saw Chat Noir fighting an akuma while holding her baby daughter?”

“Adrien, you’re worrying about the wrong Marinette. Do you really want to be on the end of future-you’s punch if anything happened to his daughter?” Plagg piped up.

“Hey! She’s my daughter too.”

“She’s his daughter. You’ve been too oblivious and stupid to deserve such a cute kid,” Plagg grumbled, flying around Emma with a kind of affection that Adrien had never seen from his kwami before. “Wow, she really looks like you.”

“And Marinette. She looks like Marinette too.”

“A little less oblivious now, are we?”

“Plagg, please. Back to the problem. What do we do?”

Plagg sighed. “Well… what else is there to do? Ladybug’s already out there fighting the akuma, Marinette’s nowhere in sight and you’ve got a daughter you can’t leave in the middle of a Paris alley. I’ll let your suit wrap her around your chest… just don’t bring me in the wrath of future Ladybug and future Chat Noir when they ask why Emma is covered in akuma goo.”

Adrien buried his hands in his hair. There was no wonder his future self was far more blindly trusting of Marinette. Marinette would be taking care of their daughter, far from akumas and danger and Adrien… Adrien was here, taking her into battle with them.

“Well?”

“I don’t want to hurt Marinette. I love Emma but…” Adrien cast a glance to the akumatized victim. “I can’t let my lady down. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

“For the record, I had nothing to say or do with this decision, I am a mere bystander-”

“Plagg, claws out!”

/

Trust Chat Noir to make the day Marinette was ready to give her heart to him as Ladybug the only day he arrived at an akuma fight ten minutes late.

“Took you long enough!” Marinette yelled as she bounced back on the ground from the akumatized victim’s shot of what seemed like jelly goo. “The akuma’s in his stick by the way!”

Chat nervously laughed, giving a hand to Marinette on the ground. “Um… my lady, I know we always fight as a duo but would you be opposed to an adorable sidekick today?”

“What are you talking ab- OH MY GOD! Chat, what the hell is she doing with you?!”

“Well, you see, there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for everything-”

“Why is she with you?!” Marinette bellowed, trying to take her poor daughter from the strapped blankets around Chat’s chest. The grip of the straps was far too tight though. Marinette could almost cry. When she’d said she wanted to see her Chat look more like the Chat from the future, she’d meant his height or big build… not in the way they both appeared with her daughter strapped to their chest in danger.

“Look, my lady, listen, I couldn’t leave her in the streets! She has a better chance of being protected like this than if I’d leave her on a bench somewhere!”

“Why couldn’t you leave her with Adrien?!”

“Papa?”

“Not now, Emma!”

Chat blinked. “How do you know her name?” he said slowly. “And how do you know she was with Adrien? Oh my God, did future Chat Noir pay a visit to you too?!”

Marinette buried her face into her palms. Was he really the partner she was supposed to raise Emma with? She was glad that there were years to go before the two of them would reach that burden because right now, she was almost guiltily wishing fate had been kinder to her and put her in Adrien’s path instead.

“Chat, now is not the time! Please! We need to break the akuma and figure out how to keep Emma safe. Please just… just be safe with her, okay?”

Chat nodded, blinking. “Of course I will. She is my daughter after all,” he said with a smile down at Emma. His black-leather clad gloves gently caressed the girl’s cheek, careful of his sharp claws.

Marinette stilled. So wrapped up in the chaos, she forgot she was witnessing the sight of her daughter with the man she’d one day call her husband.

In her mind, Chat Noir had always been a little bit of a child himself, chasing after love and thrill like a lost boy. There were countless times she doubted his sincerity in his fluttering feelings for her.

And yet… Now, when she looked at him, none of that doubt was there. All she saw was a boy with radiating love in his eyes, a gentle heart, one that had been begging for her to be careful with him all this time because his affection was never insincere. It was just that he had so much to give.

Marinette blinked back the pooling tears in her eyes. He looked at Emma with so much love and when his eyes came to her, his gaze only softened.

“Are you crying?” he asked, puzzled. 

Marinette quickly wiped the tears away under her mask. Now was not the time. “You… you’re gonna be a great father one day, kitty,” she settled for saying, running away towards the akuma without a glance back. Though he was out of earshot, Marinette still let herself say to the world, “I’m so glad you’re going to be the one for my kids.”

/

Adrien was fighting an akuma, with his future daughter wrapped to his chest, and his future wife somewhere out there in Paris. And first love had just told him that he was going to be a great father out of the blue.

Were all of the world’s gifts being given to him today?

“Chat, the light pole! If you cataclysm it, we can trap him!”

Adrien blinked, looking up. “Um… my lady, I would never be opposed to anything you suggest except- I don’t wanna give Emma vertigo by climbing all the way up there!”

Ladybug sighed. “Well, it’s not ideal to bring a daughter along in an akuma fight. For now, I’ll hold onto her while you go!” she said before mumbling, “we better find a way around this when the time comes. I might kill you if you bring Emma along into a fight in the future.” 

In a quick swap, Adrien was now watching Ladybug cradle his daughter to her chest. His first love and his future daughter. He hated how his heart fluttered.

Before today, it was her he wanted to be a husband for. He dreamed of holding their children, of living together and growing old by each other’s side… Adrien hoped that the part of him that clung to that fantasy would go away soon.

He feigned a laugh. “Of course I won’t. I’ll leave her at home with my wife.”

Ladybug stilled, and amongst the chaos of Paris behind her, he could see her body freeze. Suddenly, she was glaring at him. “Like hell you will!” she pompously snapped. “You should be the one staying home taking care of her!”

Adrien blinked. “Then who will save Paris?!”

Adrien didn’t know what he was doing that only seemed to flame Ladybug’s temper. “I’m the one who purifies akumas anyway! You should be the one taking care of the kid!”

“I- I don’t understand!” Adrien threw his hands up in the air. The sudden argument between him and Ladybug made him feel like they were having a lover’s spat, but he tried not to dwell on that thought. “Why couldn’t my wife just take care of Emma while I’m out here?”

“Chat, if this is how you plan to be in the future, I swear I will make sure there is no Emma!” Ladybug argued. “I am not staying home to babysit Emma while you get to fight!”

“No one said anything about you having to babysit! You can fight!”

“You said you’ll leave Emma alone at home with your wife!”

“Yes! My wife!”

Ladybug blinked in confusion. “Well, your wife doesn’t want to stay home to babysit!”

Adrien buried his face in his hands. The city would burn to the ground at this rate, while he would still be stuck in a conversation he did not understand. He watched Emma’s eyes go from Ladybug to his as if she were lost on who to listen to.

“I don’t see why Marinette would have any problems taking care of Emma,” Adrien sighed exasperatedly. His body instantly froze after saying the words.

He’d just told the name of his future wife to a partner who had no idea about his identity… Adrien’s throat dried up. Had he just fucked up everything?

He swallowed, risking a glance at Ladybug. She mirrored his expression of shock and he mentally braced himself for the scolding of his life from her.

“You… you- did future Chat go and tell you my name?!” she groaned, shaking with a frightening temper. “I thought that was off limits! Future Ladybug didn’t even tell me anything about you! I had to figure it out all on my own that we were going to get married!”

Adrien stilled. Whatever confusion he was facing before, it only seemed to get worse now.

“M- married?” he sputtered out, suddenly coughing. His head echoed the chaos ensuing in the city around him. The logical part of his brain told him to get back to work, save Paris… every other part of him told him that he was stepping on unchartered territory right now with Ladybug and he shouldn’t dare move.

“This is a mess. Emma, did we mess everything up?” Ladybug mumbled, looking down at his daughter.

“Ladybug… wait, I think- I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” Adrien cut in, awkwardly rubbing the nape of his neck. “I’m… I’m going to marry Marinette.”

Ladybug blinked at him as if waiting for him to say something more. For a moment, only silence passed between the two. They both seemed to be waiting for the other to finish their unfinished words.

It was in this silence that Emma’s voice became the loudest. She looked up at Ladybug, laughing and reaching for her dark hair to grab. “Maman.”

Adrien glanced between his daughter’s familiar gaze at his first love and his first love’s hair that looked an awful lot like his future wife’s. Despite the tense atmosphere, Ladybug still smiled softly at his daughter as she continued to call out for Maman.

Adrien burst out laughing. Maybe he’d be a great father one day. But he sure as hell wouldn’t stop being an idiot.

/

Chat would make a very strange husband, Marinette decided. One second, he was yelling at her that she would have to stay home to take care of Emma and the next, after a very visible mental breakdown of laughter, he was back on his game.

Once the two of them had gotten past the weird argument, it took only a few minutes for Paris to return to normal and a little butterfly to fly away, harmless and pure. All in a day’s work… with a baby wrapped around her chest.

“Sorry little Emma,” Marinette sighed, rubbing her suit-covered fingers over her daughter’s cheek. “Maman took you into a fight. You must’ve been so scared.”

Emma only giggled. 

“Well, you don’t really need to be scared. We’re just kids right now, but I promise once you come, Maman will be an even better superhero. And Papa too… if he ever sorts his head out. We’ll be good parents,” Marinette blushed before adding, “we’ll be a good husband and wife too, don’t you think?”

Marinette couldn't get sick of the bright, green eyes of her daughter. They really were beautiful.

Behind her, she heard Chat Noir’s feet land on the ground. He mumbled pleasant greetings to the Parisians walking by before coming to her.

“So,” he began. A new kind of smile Marinette had never seen before was playing on his lips. “Crime-fighting husband and wife?”

Marinette rolled her eyes. There it was. The smugness she knew she’d have to handle from the second she realized that the man she ended up with was Chat Noir. “This just sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

His glee was painted across his face. He couldn’t stop grinning. “On the contrary, I think it’ll be quite the dream. You, me, our kwamis and our little kids. Aren’t you glad future-you finally decides to fall for me and have that life?”

“I don’t know. Doesn’t sound like much is in it for me.”

Chat fought a cocky grin. “Well, you get a piece of twenty-six-year-old Chat Noir and I think you’d quite like him, my lady.”

Marinette had to hide her flushing cheeks by looking down at Emma. “I’m stuck with sixteen-year-old you right now. Let’s start one step at a time, okay?” Marinette mumbled. “We have a long way to go before we become good parents.”

Chat laughed. “Me maybe. But you’re a natural mother, bugaboo. You’ll be great.”

Marinette giggled. What was that her future self had said? That she’d be a good mother, but her husband was half the reason why. She wouldn’t tell Chat that now, but she was starting to think it might be true. He’d done something risky today but he had her back as always.

In unison, both of their Miraculouses beeped, reminding them of their time limits. 

“Oh! Gotta go,” Chat glanced at his ring before looking up at Emma. “Will you be able to handle her?”

Marinette smiled. “Papa’s done enough,” she teased, poking him away. “I’ll be fine.”

Chat laughed, pressing a kiss onto Emma’s forehead. “See you when I see you, little bug,” he whispered to the happy baby before looking at Marinette with a mischievous smile. Marinette almost jumped from the sneaky kiss he pressed onto her forehead too.

She still felt his lips on her skin, long after he’d leaped across rooftops away. Cradling Emma carefully against her, she sneaked into an alley quickly to de-transform.

“You did great Marinette! You took down the akuma and took perfect care of Emma,” Tikki smiled. “Chat Noir’s right! You really are a natural mother.”

Marinette laughed. “Thanks, Tikki. Adrien said that too- oh my god! Adrien!”

Tikki hid a knowing smile before going back inside her purse. Marinette instantly took off, running back to the bridge where she’d last seen Adrien leave with Emma. The poor boy… he probably was frightened to death, thinking he lost Emma and Marinette in the crowd.

Standing in the middle of the bridge, Marinette panted. “Oh Emma,” she chewed her lip. “You don’t think he’ll be too panicked, will he? Adrien?”

“Papa?” Emma only asked in response, blinking widely.

Marinette laughed. “Not Papa silly. You just saw Papa. Do you already miss him?”

Emma pouted, nuzzling her face into Marinette’s neck. “Papa.”

Marinette sighed. “Is this how it is in the future? Do you like Papa more than me?” she grumbled playfully. She didn’t think she’d even mind if little Emma gave all her devotion to Chat.

The two laughed together till Marinette heard her name called. As she turned, she hated the way her heart skipped at the sight. Adrien came rushing down the bridge, two ice creams clutched in his hands and a wide smile on his face. It was a scene she thought she’d recall in every dream from now on.

Ten years Marinette… you have ten years to get over that.

“Sorry! I went to get ice cream, then the akuma happened, then Emma-”

“It’s fine, Adrien!” Marinette forced a laugh. “You’ve been a great help today with Emma anyway!”

Adrien’s smile slipped into something softer. She almost wished she didn’t have to see it.

“Papa!”

“Hey Emma,” Adrien laughed, giving the ice creams to Marinette before taking Emma into her own hands. “You weren’t scared, were you?”

Emma shook her head happily. She nuzzled affectionately into his touch, still calling him Papa. 

“Sorry about her,” Marinette smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Looks like she likes her Papa more and you remind her of him.”

Adrien nodded, biting back a smile. “Well, that’s okay. I think her Maman already has someone who loves her far too much. It isn’t fair for her to get all of Emma’s love too.”

“Hm?”

Marinette blinked. That smile on Adrien… Why did it look both new and familiar at once? And why was he leaning in with a glint of amusement in his eyes, as if this were something ordinary between the two of them? And why, despite every better part of herself, was Marinette’s heart racing from being the focus of those eyes?

“Wouldn’t you agree, future wife?”

The ice creams dropped. Two cones sat planted in the ground and Marinette squeaked. The smugness she’d seen minutes ago on Chat’s face now appeared on… on Adrien’s. He laughed, sharing the joke with Emma in his playful stare. Her first love, the love of her life, and her future daughter… all in one sight.

“Adrien!”

“Uh oh Emma, your Maman is mad at me,” the boy laughed. Marinette chased him down the bridge but when she caught him, it was Adrien who pressed his lips to her forehead this time. 

/

“You took… our daughter into an akuma fight?!”

“Hey! She’s our daughter too. And don’t tell off Marinette,” Adrien pouted, jumping in front of Marinette from the towering Ladybug who had her hands on her hips. Hips he was having a hard time looking away from.

Adrien couldn’t tell Marinette - he wouldn’t dare - but while ten years would make him as Chat Noir just a bit more handsome, ten years would make her deadly.

He had to gulp a heavy breath when she appeared in Marinette’s bedroom, with her own Chat Noir on her tail. At first glance, he almost tripped from Marinette’s sofa. When he shared a look with his future self, his future self only feigned an innocent smile, fully aware of the inner workings of sixteen-year-old Adrien’s mind and how the stunning woman had short-wired it.

“I am allowed to tell myself off, Adrien,” Ladybug sighed. “Move away.”

“No way. It wasn’t her fault anyway!”

Ladybug shared a look with Chat. “Were you always this stubborn?”

Chat grinned. “Only when it comes to you,” he said with a wink and then with a glance at sixteen-year-old Marinette, “and her too, I guess.”

Adrien frowned. “Hey! Flirt with your own Marinette,” he grumbled, shooting daggers at his future self. For as hard as Adrien had worked to disguise his starstruck reaction to the future Ladybug, Marinette had put no effort into the same for the future Chat Noir. Her eyes were glued to him this whole time. Every time he moved or turned and the muscles strained against the suit, Marinette turned a little bit redder.

Adrien wasn’t sure whether to be jealous or flattered.

“Like I can’t see you ogling me,” Ladybug muttered before looking at Marinette. “Anyway. I’ll take Emma back now. While it wasn’t… ideal for you two to fight with her on hand, I know why you did it. Thank you for taking care of her.”

Marinette beamed. “Thank you for letting me have her today. I… I’m gonna work really hard,” she promised, her eyes bright and glittering. “To become a mother and superhero as good as you.”

Ladybug smiled, but before she could respond, the two boys answered in unison, “You’re already good.”

Marinette blinked, looking between Adrien and Chat. “Wow. This is trippy.”

“Tell me about it,” Ladybug sighed, before glancing at Adrien. “Thanks for taking care of her- well, me, Adrien. There’s gonna be a lot of tough times in the future but there’ll be a lot of good too.”

With a look at Marinette, the words came out of Adrien before he could stop them. “I think they’ll all be good.”

Chat sighed, picking up Emma. “I would make fun of you. But I’m exactly the same. Guess we’re even,” he grinned, offering a fist. When Adrien reciprocated, his fingers stung from the sheer force of a simple fist bump.

“Seriously man, what are you eating?”

“Nothing healthy. My wife’s family owns a bakery after all,” Chat said with a wink at Marinette. He turned to open a portal and Adrien squinted from the flash of light.

“Thanks for babysitting kiddos!” Ladybug smiled with a wave. Adrien could hardly wave back before the two of them were gone and the room was left with him and Marinette and their two sleeping kwamis.

And a hundred or so posters of Adrien.

“I really thought you’d be more into me,” Adrien mumbled in the empty room. “But you couldn’t stop gawking at Chat Noir!”

Marinette scoffed. “You weren’t slick about your staring at Ladybug either.”

Adrien rubbed the nape of his neck. “I was just… looking at how your suit would change. Very interesting, you know.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. You have less spots in the future. It’s fascinating, right?”

“I guess. Your tail was longer too.”

“Is that so?”

“Yep.”

Adrien bit back a smile. “Well thank you for admitting you were checking out my future ass, Marinette.”

Instantly, he dodged the pillow thrown his way by her that he’d anticipated. Her face was flushed and he couldn’t get enough of how adorable it was. He’d have to soak it all up before she became all cool and confident like she was in the future.

With all the laughing and pillows being thrown around, Adrien didn’t hesitate in grabbing Marinette’s waist and pulling her closer to him. The two were wrapped together now on the couch and while the proximity was familiar, the racing heartbeat he felt at being so close to her was new.

“You really have Emma’s eyes,” she muttered, staring at him.

“You have Emma’s hair.”

“You have Emma’s nose,” she answered with a playful flick of it.

Adrien smiled, letting his eyes wander down her face. “You have her…” he trailed off, bashful of even saying the word.

Someday, he’d have a kid with this girl. But for now, he couldn’t even bring himself to get past the initial awkward shyness of two sixteen-year-olds around their first loves.

“What do you think?” Marinette asked hesitantly. “Of our… Our future together?”

Adrien grinned. “I love it.”

“Do you really think I’ll be a good mother one day?” she asked, suddenly leaning in closer. Adrien was sure she could hear the hitch in his heartbeat, pressed against him like this.

His partner, his best friend, his first love, the love of his life… how did he get so lucky? All in a day, he’d found all these people with just a little bit of the future.

Adrien brought his lips to Marinette’s cheek and pressed a kiss at the corner of her lips. “I think you’ll make a great mother,” he kissed the other corner. He leaned back for a second to share a smile before pulling her close enough that no distance remained. “But I think you’ll make an even better wife.”

[some-cookie-crumbz]

Philosophy 101

Philosophy 101 Fandom: My Hero Academia Pairing: FuyuPress Summary: FuyuPress Week 2021 Day 2 Prompt Fill: Soulmate - “Soulmates?” he asked with a brow raised. He reached up with his prosthetic hand to rub at his chin thoughtfully. “What a peculiar thing to ask about.” Minor Warning: Implied Hanky-Panky but nothing explicit. Standard Disclaimer: If you read and enjoy this, please give it a like/ reblog so I know if I should write more.

When she was just a child, she loved stories about soul mates. Things like true love’s kiss and handsome princes’ come to save the day on horseback became her idealistic view of the world. She clung to those fairy tales and how they could be applied to the real world, asking Mother often is that was what Father was to her. Back then she hadn’t noticed how the smile never reached the gray depths of Mother’s eyes, but she came to understand it as she got older. A prince wouldn’t belittle, berate and beat the princess he so adored. Her parents’ marriage being something born of financial comfort and narcissistic ego rather than loyalty and love had been a heavy blow.

The accompanying realization that there may never have been any love between her parents had been somehow more terrifying.

In high school, her disillusionment with the idea of love and soul mates had been given even more evidence. Between herself and her friends, so many of their “charming royal suitors” turned out to be nothing but façade and hormones. They would be cruel in so many different ways, in ways she still bore the physical and emotional remnants of, and she’d resolved herself to be content on her own. She had her family and her work and her friends – the ones that had been with her through it all – and she determined that she would commit to that being enough for now. She resigned that she would most likely settle for someone Father selected, someone who would be financially secure and – if she was lucky – gentle enough that rearing a family would be tolerable.

And then there was Sako Atsuhiro, more enigma than man.

Their first meeting had been anything but graceful. It had been on a field trip day to a local museum for a more hands-on experience involving pre-Quirk society. Her little problem child, Toshiro-Chan, had been fiddling about with his Quirk as he was prone to. His Quirk was that he could temporarily make any item - even ones that lacked any metal component - magnetic for a short period of time. Thinking that it would be a fun little prank, he’d magnetized one of the plastic line poles used to keep the children from getting too close to the exhibits…

And ended up dragging poor Sako over through the means of his prosthetic arm.

Fuyumi had been absolutely mortified, offering frantic apologies to Sako and stern words to Toshiro-Chan as she tried to help separate his arm from the pole. Sako had been a darling and taken it all in stride, though. He made a few teasing remarks to help alleviate some of her distress and the young tot’s guilt, reassuring that he was in as many pieces as he’d entered the establishment in. He had ended up trailing along with her class after that, the students all fascinated more in his prosthetic arm than the sights they were there for. Once the students were all loaded back up onto the bus and with one final plea from Fuyumi to find some way to make it all up to him, he made a suggestion.

“If you insist, young miss,” he mused, producing a small slip of paper between his fingers from thin air, “treating me to a beverage some time would be a welcome gesture of apology.”

And that first little coffee date had bloomed into something unexpected but new. Fuyumi was used to the polite and suave gentleman act that he seemed to play at, but she found the big difference to be that it wasn’t an act with him. THe more she grew to know him, the more she realized he was very much a “What You See is What You Get” kind of man. He wasn’t afraid to purr softly in her ear of the things he’d relish in doing to her once they were alone and then hold true to those words when they were. He was as polite and respectful and responsible behind closed doors as he was on the street and this concept was absolutely earth-shattering for her. For Todoroki Fuyumi, who presented herself as the sensible and mature daughter most would expect of a Pro Hero, the idea of someone who was so unabashedly themselves in every aspect of their life, it was new and enticing and hypnotic in a way.

Which was probably why her mind wandered back to childhood fantasies, blurting the question out before she could think better of it as they lounged together in his bed one night.

“Soulmates?” he asked with a brow raised. He reached up with his prosthetic hand to rub at his chin thoughtfully. “What a peculiar thing to ask about.”

She shuffled to nuzzle into his pillow a bit more, hiding the lower half of her face and muffling her words a bit. “Is it?” she asked uneasily. A flash of panic coursed through her. Had she crossed some strange line between them? Would such an immature question turn him away from her? “You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to. It is a kinda weird question. I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

He blinked, brown eyes twinkling as he fixed his gaze back on her, before a small smile tipped up on his lips. “Nonsense, my dear. If you were thinking about it to a point you wanted to mention it, it is clearly important for you to discuss it,” he said, reaching out with his flesh hand to gently stroke along her cheek. She shifted to tilt up into the touch more, relaxing a bit at the soothing familiarity of his touch. “If you are asking as to whether I believe that soulmates are real or not… I don’t believe in something as basic as one singular soulmate for your whole life long.”

She perked up and made a small confused noise. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I feel like every partner - good or bad - has qualities indicative of what a soulmate is meant to be. For elaboration, what is a soulmate as you see it?”

She hummed thoughtfully as she pushed herself to sit up with the help of her elbows more. She steepled her and tapped them against her lips as she tried to sort her thoughts properly. Atsuhiro had moved to gently trail his hand over her shoulder to draw little shapes along the exposed skin of her back instead. “Well, they’re someone who is there for you when you need them and not always in ways you expect. They accept you as you are, and inspire you to be a better person. To work to be the best side of yourself. The side of you that they see you as,” She watched as he nodded along with her words, smile widening a little bit. She shifted to move a smidge closer to him. “And what about you?”

“I would agree with what you’ve said,” he hummed, holding up one finger on his other hand, “and would also state that there are parts or what you said that I learned from past lovers.”

“So you’ve met your soulmate before then?” she asked, cocking her head and knitting her brow.

He chuckled and shifted to lay on his side beside her. “Not quite. Perhaps they are not your soulmate for all of time, but they are in that moment. And I think that there is something to be treasured in that,” he explained, lifting his arm to invite her closer.

She frowned as she shifted to laying on her side as well, hands sliding to rest on his shoulders. “But… Doesn’t that kind of lessen the significance of having a soulmate? If every person you’re with is a soulmate?” It made little sense to her and felt a bit like a cop-out, if she were honest. After all, the idea of her past partners being considered soulmates make her stomach churn uncomfortably. Sure, there had been points where she’d thought it could be possible, but… Well, hindsight was 20-20, right?

“Perhaps, yes, but I do not feel so,” he mused. He settled his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to himself, looking down at her with a fond expression. “If not for those past experiences, I would not be the person that I am proud to be today, the man who is happy to spend his time with you and treat you as you deserve. And I needed all of those past lovers and the times with them - both the good and the bad - to be able to come to certain realizations about myself. To teach me what was important to me in the kind of partner I was as well as the kind of partner I wanted.”

Fuyumi blinked and nodded slowly, letting his words turn over in her mind. It… Did make a certain kind of sense, actually. She was only able to determine the things she wanted in a serious, committed relationship because of what she’d been through with her past partners. If she hadn’t dated them, would she still be as naive as she was at age seven? Believing that her ideal partner would be someone who was perfect and handsome and, realistically, didn’t exist? And that wasn’t even taking into account the little things she’d learned to perceive from a handful of dates. Would she still be able to spot a wolf in sheep’s clothing? Or would she just be a sheep to the slaughter, of sorts?

“Does that help at all, my dear?” he asked, pressing a small kiss to her forehead and snapping her from her internal ramblings.

She flashed a small smile before curling into his chest. “Yes, I think it does, Atsuhiro. Thank you,” she hummed, closing her eyes as he began to gently stroke her hair, fingertips grazing along the shell of her ear.

Perhaps his definition was a bit more romantic than she’d thought.

[multimilfs]

Lilith Clawthorne x Fem!Reader: Lessons Learned

Summary: thewriting-dragon requested “More Buff Bimbo Reader X Lilith Clawthorne, but like maybe with a touch of angst? Or even better Buff Bimbo Reader after Lilith splits the curse.” 

A/N: I think I took a different approach to this than you intended tbh. You said some angst and I sprinted with it, but I hope that you like it! 

Warning(s): None 

In the Boiling Isles, there is a very strict hierarchy. A ranking of importance that goes down the line. Emperor, Emperor's advisor, and so on. Lilith Clawthorne is the third most important person in the Boiling Isles.

Being so important was something she’d craved from a young age. The idea of being in charge of her life, for once. But power isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be. It comes with rules. A lot of them.

The expectations befalling someone so important could lead to a lot of different behaviors. Stress, narcissism, and most obvious, anger. Anger at the slightest imperfection or missing piece. That not everything was fitting perfectly into their master plan.

“Honey, are you ready?”

You peeked into the room where Lilith was readying herself for tonight’s event, stopping to admire her. She was a sight to behold. Glimmering baby blue dress, white heels, and white jewels adorning her body. It took your breath away.

“Wow… You look beautiful.” You sighed out dreamily.

Lilith gave you a small smile, though notably much smaller than normal. Then she looked you up and down with a frown on her face.

“Darling, is that what you’re wearing?” She asked.

Confused, you looked down at your outfit. It was a three piece white suit that you believed was rather dapper. Not to mention it was comfortable. You didn’t understand why she was asking.

“Of course, this is my favorite suit. Why?”

“You wore it last time we went to this event.”

“Okay… Is that supposed to be a problem? It’s stylish and I like the way it looks on me.”

“Being seen in the same thing twice is a taboo. I thought I would have taught you that by now,” Lilith sighed, before waving her hand and changing the color to the same blue as her hair. The cut of the suit was also altered ever so slightly, “There! Now you look perfect.”

A low, icky feeling panged at your gut. You hated wearing this color and the altered cut of the suit made you feel uncomfortable. It drew attention to certain areas of your body you didn’t want people to focus on. But you reminded yourself that it was for Lilith, so you could accept it for the night.

That was the mantra you repeated throughout the night; You were doing it for Lilith. When you bit your tongue in conversation so she could talk, when you didn’t eat anything off of the refreshment table because it was apparently ‘just there to look nice.’ It was hard to do, but you did it. You squashed yourself into a perfect little mold for the higher-ups of the Boiling Isles.

At the end of the event, there was said to be a big show. It’d been the one piece of information keeping you grounded all night. Emperor Belos was going to give a show to remember. The start of a new tradition.

But when you heard the sound of distressed squawking from behind the curtain, you felt your heart drop. Then the curtains opened.

Standing there was Emperor Belos. A fire whip in hand, across from a young Lion Phoenix. It was cowering back from him. Growling and hissing, feathers raised. You looked anxiously to Lilith, but she was purposefully avoiding your gaze.

“Distinguished guests,” Belos began, “Tonight I will perform a feat never attempted before. I will tame the wild Lion Phoenix, as a show of what the Boiling Isles is truly capable of!”

Everyone around you clapped. This felt like your own personal hell, having to watch people enjoy the torture that this creature would endure. For the sake of a show. For power.

“Lilith, stop him.” You whispered.

“I can’t do that.” She flinched away from the suggestion, looking at you like you had two heads.

There was a lilt in her voice that you didn’t like. The same one when she’d accidentally shrunk your uniform or eaten your leftovers. Guilt.

She knew.

You moved away from her, even as she tried to reach for you. To keep you close or stop you from making a scene, it didn’t matter, you were on a mission. There were many instances where you could hold your tongue. This was not one of them.

Belos raised the whip above his head, intent on bringing it down over the creature. You sent a burst of magic before he could. It knocked the item out of his hand. Everyone in the room looked at you in outrage.

“Have you no regard for life?” You hissed at the Emperor.

“It’s a harmless show, Miss Y/N.” He explained.

“Harmless to everyone except this creature. It’s cruel and uncalled for.” You said.

“Emperor Belos, I’m so sorry-”

Lilith tried to jump in to defend you, to calm the situation down. But you leveled her with a hard glare. She stepped back slightly. You didn’t need, or want, anyone to apologize for you.

“End this show or I will.” You threatened.

The temperature in the room dropped as Belos stopped laughing. Such a change made you feel uneasy, but you refused to back down. Not now. Not on something so important.

“Fine.”

He threw his hand out in the direction of the Lion Phoenix, which let out a shriek of fear. Unthinking, you threw yourself between them. Lilith screamed your name before it all ended suddenly. Replaced by the sound of rustling leaves and chirping.

Looking around, you realized you were outside now. In the gardens of the Emperor’s Castle. The Lion Phoenix currently cuddling up to you had teleported you away from the scene. It surprised you, since that was typically a skill for the older creatures. It seemed this one learned quickly.

“Thank you,” You said gratefully, making them purr, “You’re so precious, I’m sorry you got mixed up with such a horrible crowd.”

The large creature didn’t react, other than to paw at your hand, sitting down expectantly. A piece of dinner was still held in your hand. You wasted no time in giving it to them.

“You need a name. How about… Ivy?”

On the creature’s side were prominent veins, almost looking like ivy plants that grew up and around her legs and torso. She gave an indifferent squawk.

“What do you say we blow this joint?” You offered.

Ivy narrowed her eyes at you before giving you a noise of agreement. That was all you needed.

Upon arriving back at your home, you made up a space for the large creature. You imagined that she was going to be with you for a while. At least, you hoped so. She was very sweet and mild mannered.

About two hours had passed before you heard the door open, almost frantically. You winced. Though you were still rightfully upset.

“Oh thank the Titan, you’re alive!” Lilith said upon seeing you, before freezing as Ivy began to growl at her.

“It’s okay,” You soothed, before looking at the other woman, “And yes, I am.”

Lilith knew she’d messed up. The way you weren’t speaking like normal, you didn’t smile in her direction, all of it. She let out a sigh.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” She said.

“Sorry doesn’t feel like enough right now, Lil.” You said softly, focusing intently on Ivy’s fur, “You really hurt me. First you made me act like someone I wasn’t all night and then you didn’t defend me when I asked for your help. I’m not always the smartest, but the one thing I know is who I am. That won’t change. Not even for you.”

Lilith’s stomach dropped. She’d been so caught up in the stress of it all, that she failed to realize how her actions wounded you. How she’d unintentionally been attempting to change who you were. Just so she could impress some stupid Boiling Isles elite.

“You’re right. I take full responsibility for how I acted tonight. How can I make it up to you?” Lilith said softly.

“You… You get to take care of Ivy for two weeks. Or until you’ve earned her forgiveness. Once you’ve earned hers, you’ll earn mine.”

Your girlfriend’s eyes widened as she looked at the creature. Narrowed eyes glared back at her. This was not going to be easy. But still, she steeled herself and accepted your terms.

How bad could two weeks possibly be?

———

Bad. Very bad.

Lilith replaced nearly all of her dresses and even had to get a haircut. Ivy refused to make the two weeks easy. She singed, clawed, and even ripped up whatever of Lilith’s she could find. The hair was an accident.

You conveniently remained neutral. This was Lilith’s punishment, it did nothing if you told her what to do. So you watched from the sidelines, only intending to jump in if it became dangerous for either party.

Luckily, it never got to such a point. And you were happy to see Lilith and Ivy growing closer. The latter even went so far as to cuddle up to Lilith near the end, which the witch was happy about.

“So, did you learn from this experience?” You asked her that night, looking at her curiously.

“Yes.” She sighed.

“Oh come on, you love her. I know you do.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not!” Lilith protested.

“Yeah? Then why did I see you giving her tummy rubs for ten minutes this morning, hm?” You asked.

She avoided your eyes, knowing she’d been caught. Against her better judgement she’d become attached to Ivy.

“I… tolerate her. At best.” She said finally.

“Whatever you say, honey.”

The two of you cuddled up together, smiles on your faces. Content to finally be on good terms once again. Ivy decided to join the moment too, which Lilith allowed, though she pretended to hate it.

The real kicker? Lilith’s outfits hadn’t been the only ones to face the wrath of Ivy’s teeth. You just hadn’t found out yet. All par for the course though… Right?

[resonating-kitty]

Wrote a little fic for this headcanon that I made a couple of days ago. 

I really like the idea that Philza Minecraft can hear the Voices to a certain extent okay

-

Techno paced the small room, fingers tangled in his disheveled hair. His rough, distressed pants filled the silence. His eyes were screwed shut in pain. The Voices were screaming inside his head, nonstop. 

It had been only hours since the tournament had ended. Hours since he and Philza stood victorious in the face of the other challengers, one step closer to cementing their position in first place and securing the prize money for themselves. 

After the tournament, Techno had done something that he’d never previously done before with any of his other teammates that he’d teamed with in the past. Normally, his teammates would be more than eager to get away from him, and Techno had no qualms about that. He would be glad to be rid of them for a while. But Philza had been different. Techno fully expected Philza to want to part ways after the tournament ended but he was shocked when Philza had turned to him, grinned, and asked if he wanted to go get a bite to eat. Unaccustomed to the friendliness, Techno had simply nodded and followed the older man.

Phil took them to a tiny little restaurant, where they ordered food and allowed the adrenaline from the tournament to simmer down. And for the first time in a long time, Techno was able to actually relax enough to open up and let his dry humor flow freely. Philza laughed at his witty comments and Techno became more comfortable with the man and relaxed even further. 

He was so distracted that he didn’t even notice that the Voices had quieted to a near silent hum in the background of his mind. That they had remained quiet the hours that he and Phil had been together. 

It hadn’t been until they returned to the apartment the tournament organizers had been so nice to give them for the duration of the tournament. Until Techno had bid Phil a goodnight and retreated to his room, fully intent on getting so rest, that the Voices grew louder once more. 

Techno ignored them as he changed clothes and crawled into the small bed. He had his heart set on getting sleep and being well rested for the continuation of the tournament tomorrow. They only needed one more win and victory would be theirs. They’d discussed strategy while they ate and had a game plan going into tomorrow. Techno wanted to make sure he was well rested and ready. Unfortunately, the Voices had other ideas. 

They had started out tolerable, babbling on about nonsense, but it didn’t take them long to grow bored. This is lame. We don’t want to sleep, we want to do something. Let’s go kill something! Yeah! Kill! Kill! Kill!

“No.” Techno had growled but the Voices ignored him, growing louder and meaner the long he attempted to lay there and ignore them. Eventually Techno was forced out of bed, landing on his feet and starting to pace. 

That was an hour ago. The Voices were just screaming now. Techno’s head was pounding, a migraine having formed from the constant noise that assaulted his senses.

“Shut up!” He whined desperately, nearly begging. He wanted the Voices to settle. He was tired from both the physical exertion of the tournament as well as the emotional exhaustion he felt because of the Voices. He just wanted to sleep but the Voices just yelled. 

No! We will not quiet! We want blood! Blood for the Blood God! Come on, stop trying to be a good little piglin and do what you were born to do!

Techno flinched and a squeal-like noise sounded in the back of his throat. He needed someone to help him. The Voices they were being too loud. He needed… 

Blindly, Techno stumbled toward his door. His actions were a blur as he threw open his door and near frantically sprinted down the hall toward the other closed door. 

-

Phil was startled awake by the sound of a sharp thud. 

He sat up, hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his sword that was leaning against the nightstand by the bed. His movements halted when he stopped Techno standing in his doorway. 

“Techno?” He mumbled sleepily, reaching up to rub his eyes. Concern flooded him when he took in Techno’s appearance. He was disheveled in a way that Phil had never seen before and he looked distressed and in pain. 

“Techno, mate, what’s wrong?” He threw back the covers and made to get up but only got as far as the edge of the bed when a half whine, half groan fell from Techno’s lips and the young piglin was suddenly across the room, half falling onto and kneeling in front of him. Arms wrapped around his midsection and Techno was burying his face in Phil’s shirt.

“Phil they’re so loud!” Techno whined, his voice, muffled slightly by the cotton material, was laced with pain and it nearly broke Phil’s heart, “They won’t stop!”

Phil wrapped his arms around Techno’s shoulders, brows furrowing in concern. He hadn’t heard anything. Didn’t know what Techno meant but he was determined to find out. “Hey mate, it’s okay, calm down.” He soothed gently, “Who’s being loud? I haven’t heard anything.”

“The Voices,” Techno explained, his voice going quiet, hesitant. Closed off. Phil felt his shoulders go tense. “They’re…. in my head. They talk to me. Say things to me. Constantly. Most of the time they’re tolerable. Sometimes they scream when I don’t give them what they want.” 

“And what do they want? What are they saying right now?” Philza asked, his voice still gentle. He tried to pull back to look Techno in the eyes but the young piglin only tightened his hold and screwed his eyes shut. His shoulders started to shake slightly. 

“They…. They want blood. They want me to kill things Phil. They always want me to kill things...” Techno’s voice trails off and his breaths became ragged.

He was shaking fully now and he was so tense. Getting defensive, Phil recognized. Suddenly, Phil remembered the looks that had been shot at Techno during the waits between events. All had been from Techno’s former teammates. He had heard the whispers of the piglin being crazy and insane but he didn’t pay them any attention. People loved to run their gobs and spread lies all the time. Now, he was starting to understand. 

Techno was waiting for him to react. And from the sudden shake in his shoulders and the tension coiling in his frame, Techno rully expected Philza to react badly to the information he’d just spilled. How many of his teammates before had witnessed this? How many had Techno approached, with Voices screaming in his ear, and asked for help? Philza didn’t need to ask how many had reeled and called him crazy, he already knew that answer. 

Sudden anger flooded Phil but not anger at Techno. It was anger at every one of those bastards that let this youngster suffer and possibly made it worse. 

Suddenly, jet black wings were folding forward, engulfing Technoblade in a cocoon of soft feathers. Philza blinked. He hadn’t even realized he had dropped his illusion. He felt Techno jump slightly and felt the young piglin’s head snap back. 

Phil glanced down, meeting Techno’s wide eyes and watching them widen even further. He didn’t need a mirror to know that his eyes were glowing with the power of his flaring grace. 

“Can the Voices hear me?” He asked softly and it took a moment before Techno nodded, slow and hesitant. Phi wrapped his wings tighter around the young piglin. His voice grew sterner, yet still remained calm and gentle as he started to address them, “Listen here Voices. Don’t you think it’s a little late at night to be making all this noise? He gave you enough blood and death for today. Tomorrow he will give you even more but he can’t do that if you don’t let him rest.” 

The tension slowly drained from Techno’s body. The shaking slowly stopped. His breathing slowly returned to normal. 

It was minutes later that he fully sagged against Phil. “Phil,” Techno whispered, voice heavy with exhaustion, “Phil it’s working. They’ve stopped screaming. Please.”

“I got you mate,” Phil smiled, “That’s it Voices. Let him rest. I’ll make sure to help him get you all the blood and death you want tomorrow.” He shifted his wings and gently urged Techno to his feet, directing him to crawl fully into the bed, “Come on Techno, let’s get you into bed.” 

Phil ended up leaning against the headboard while Techno was fast asleep beside him. It wasn’t the first time Philza thanked his angelic bloodline for the lack of required sleep. His wings were folded behind him, cushioning his back. One of Techno’s hands had snaked out and was buried in the soft feathers as if they were a lifeline. Normally having someone touch his wings would’ve made Phil uneasy but he found no such feeling when it came to Techno. He realized that he trusted the young piglin even though they were still new acquaintances, having only met in passing a couple of tournaments before.

There was something about the piglin that Philza instantly liked and his grace was humming with the prospect of their growing friendship and Phil had learned long ago to trust his grace. 

He was settling back, getting ready to meditate through the rest of the night when he first heard the whispers brushing his ears. At first he thought it was just his mind playing tricks on him because they started out inaudible but soon the whispers grew loud enough where he could make them out. 

Can he hear us? He should. Hallo! Philza Minecraft!

“Huh?” He whispered, careful not to disturb Techno. 

He can hear us! Hi! Hey Phil! We like your wings! They’re nice! Did you mean what you said? Will you give us blood?

“Voices?” 

Yes that is us! We’re the Voices of the Blood God! We speak to the Blood God’s favored!

Phil’s brow rose as the Voices revealed that. His gaze fell to Techno’s sleeping form. “So Techno is one of the Blood God’s favored, hm.” That explained a few things, it didn’t change anything though. “That doesn’t explain why I am hearing you lot now. I am fairly certain I don’t follow the Blood God’s way of thinking.” 

No. You are not one of the favored. You are an angel. But we like you! You are the first one to not try to say we were not real. You didn’t tell him to ignore us! You spoke to us! We like that! We want to continue to talk to you! Can we Phil? Pleeease say yes! The Voices’ tone grew slightly louder as they begged to stay. Beside him, Techno shifted fitfully in his sleep. 

“Keep it down mates,” Phil whispered, the Voices immediately quieting as he reached over to place a soothing hand on the younger’s shoulder. Once Techno settled again, Phil continued, keeping his voice low, “Tell you lot what. We can continue to talk whenever you lot like but I won’t tolerate any of that screaming understand?” 

Yay! No screaming, got it. Anything else Phil? We’re so excited to have a new friend!

 “We don’t tell Techno.” Phil added. He was sure that Techno wouldn’t take the news well, and would probably end up blaming himself. He would think he’d somehow infected Phil with them. 

We will not tell him Phil we promise.

The Voices promised and Phil grinned, settling himself back and getting comfortable. 

“Thanks mates. So what do you lot want to talk about? We have a couple hours until dawn.” 

[ververa]

Twist In The Sobriety

Request: something sweet and fluff with mina about her insecurity and reader being understanding and saying that she loves her, you can take it wherever you want, smutt or not, I would just love something sweet.

A/N:@honeysorwell​ I hope this can do! Sorry if this is shit. Also I’m deeply sorry it took me so long. I’m just really discouraged and I’m kind of struggling rn. Anyways, hope you enjoy it!

Wilhemina Venable x reader

Word count: 5 500

Wilhemina Venable was a professor of literature, who held the position of pro-rector for over two years. Wilhemina was known as a very strict, demanding and cynical woman. Some even considered her mean. She was respected by other professors and hated by students, as she was the one ‘ruining’ their plans. She came off as an unapproachable  woman, who had a heart of stone and no mercy. She always wore dark purple or black suits, had her dark hair pulled back in a bun and she never smiled. Most people felt intimidated by her, but you were fascinated. For you she was the most perfect woman you had ever seen. You really wanted to get to know her, but it wasn’t possible. Wilhemina spent most of the time in her office and you only saw her passing by from time to time. Though you were very observant, so you obviously made some assumptions.

You hoped that one day you would be able to meet her. You were fantasizing about how your first meeting could go, though none of those scenarios came true. The reality totally surprised you as you met her when you least expected it.

Wilhemina rarely had classes, she almost completely gave up on teaching after she became a pro-rector. She did lectures for a small group of students, who displayed advanced level of required subjects. Other than that Wilhemina barely left her office and if she did - it was only to inspect the condition of the university and to check if certain rules were followed by students and professors.

It was one of those days, when she actually got bored. She decided it was a good time to inspect one of her colleagues. In fact, Wilhemina didn’t care about what was going on in the classrooms as long as no rules were broken. She usually went there only to make herself feel better or eventually meet those students who were noticeably superior to the group.

She had heard quite a lot about you from other professors. They were always praising you and she got a bit curious. It had been a long time since anyone managed to make any impression on her. It was really hard to do it, and she started believing that no one and nothing could ever impress her again. Yet then she met you.

You had a lecture with one  of the professors that you truly despised. The man was over 50 years old. He was arrogant and overconfident, but what you hated the most about him was that he had no respect for women. He kept insulting and abusing female students for years, though none of them was brave enough to stand up to him. That was until you. You had been brought up in a family of lawyers, so holding various kinds of discussion was something that you had been taught for years. You had no trouble objecting him and then finding arguments to prove your point. Normally you tried to control yourself and be respectful, but that time was different. That time you got too angry to hold yourself back.

Wilhemina didn’t like to rush. She took her time getting to the right classroom and used the back door, so as not to interrupt. She had expected yet another boring lecture, but to her surprise she found you arguing with her colleague.

“I fail to understand how some of you, men, can be so narrow-minded. You classify women only in two categories - fuckable and non-fuckable. But let me tell you, there is more than that”

Venable scanned the room trying to understand what was going on. She decided not to interfere, because your speech sounded pretty interesting and promiscuous.

“Let’s take Miss Venable for example. You are all sure that you know her, but the truth is you only get to see the surface layer. And you are too oblivious and unintelligent to even consider that there is something more. In result you totally misunderstand her and perceive her in a wrong way” 

“That’s enough. Sit down Y/N”

“No”

“Sit down!”

“I’ll sit when I’m done”

“You’ll regret it. You’ll get punish for your insubordination”

“It’s not insubordination. We’re just having a discussion and you’re calling it an ‘insubordination’, because I’m right and you don’t have any arguments. But of course, I understand it’s hard to admit that you’re just a fool with a low self-esteem, who tries to compensate  for it by using young students and turning their life into hell if they refuse to have sex with you”

“Miss Y/L/N as a future lawyer you should know how to keep your head right, but apparently you’re not able to. I’ll not tolerate such behaviour in my classes. That’s why I think you can’t continue the course”

“Oh, I’m very calm. It’s you who takes it personal and reacts emotionally, because you can’t stand the fact that women can be more powerful. What hurts you the most is that you’re intimidated by us, by Miss Venable. And if that wasn’t enough she also took the position that you aspired to hold. And now I beat you, using the right arguments - the same as she beat you thanks to her qualifications. But of course, it’s our fault, because as women we’re supposed to serve you. I’m sorry to inform you, but the medieval times are over”

Wilhemina stood there shocked. She finally understood why everyone was talking about you. She hadn’t heard such kind of argument in a while. And you talking about her in such a way truly impressed her. Of course Wilhemina wasn’t the type of person who would admit that you made her speechless, so she composed herself and slowly approached you.

“Oh, and one more thing” you continued not realizing Wilhemina was there “Next time I find out you tried to abuse any woman, I’ll report you to Miss Venable. You’ll have a chance to ask how she's doing...”

“I’m good. Thank you” Wilhemina said as calm as possible - trying to hide her amusement 

You slowly turned round only to see her looking at you.

“Miss Venable…”

“Miss Y/L/N, it’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you”

“That’s… umm… that’s my pleasure” you said a bit dumbfounded

“Wilhemina… I can explain” your professor began

Venable said nothing, but you could notice how her hand clenched on her cane. She slowly approached the man and looked into his eyes.

“It’s Miss Venable” she emphasized her name hitting her cane on the floor “I'll make it clear, so there will be no misunderstandings. I’m truly disgusted. Your explanations do not interest me at all. And you can be sure I’ll raise this issue during the meeting of the school board”

You didn’t expect her to be there. You didn't necessarily want her to hear what you said and you obviously didn’t know how to act after that. Normally you would come up with something, but Wilhemina gave you no time.

“Miss Y/L/N” she moved closer to you

Venable looked at you, but you didn't lower your eyes like your professor. It felt weird - almost as if her big brown eyes could look right through your soul, but you held her stare anyway.

That was unexpected. Her stare was like a weapon. It made everyone feel intimidated and thereby proved that Wilhemina was in power. Everyone always averted their eyes, except for you. 

“Miss Y/N would you care to follow me to my office?” she asked, but by the tone she used you could tell it was an order not a question or request

“O-of course”

You followed Venable - counting all the tiles on the floor on your way, trying to compose yourself. Being alone with her had been something you wanted, but you weren’t really sure where that could go at that point.

“Sit down” she demanded and you did it immediately - this time not needed to be told twice. Wilhemina sat down as well and looked at you carelessly swiveling her cane.

“So…” you started after a moment of silence that for you seemed to be a bit too long

“So” she repeated doing her best to contain her amusement with your nervousness  

You were looking everywhere, but her face. Yet even though you weren't looking at her, you could feel her eyes on you. You shifted feeling slightly insecure under her stern gaze.

“You are quite a unique specimen, aren’t you Miss Y/N?”

“I… I guess I am...” you said scratching the back of your head

“I must say, I’m pretty impressed with your gift of the gab”

“Well… I must say, I wasn’t quite expecting you to hear all that?”

“Why is that? I’m glad I did. Though, I really felt quite distressed learning some of those things”

“Umm… Does that mean I won’t be expelled or suspended?”

“Oh, of course not. We can’t let ourselves lose such precious students as you”

Your eyes widened. That definitely was the last thing you had expected to hear.

“Of course, it’s understandable if you won’t want to attend Mr Smith’s classes. And if that’s the case, I’d help you to prepare for the exam instead”

“Yes. That’d be great!” you exclaimed probably a bit too enthusiastically “I mean I’d really appreciate it, Miss Venable”

Wilhemina nodded. She didn’t show any kind of emotion, but she seemed pretty pleased with your response. 

“Alright then. We shall start on Monday. Meet me at the library. 8 a.m. and don’t be late” 

-

Going to the university wasn’t a dream come true for you - at least not at that time. You wanted to take a gap year and travel. You wanted to see the world, meet people, party, fall in love. Though your parents were against your idea. They basically made you go to the university and study law. They had already had everything planned for you. You were supposed to become a lawyer, just like your father and then work in his office. That for sure was a good plan, but nobody asked you if that was what you wanted. It obviously wasn’t and you hated it. All the lectures were boring and most of your professors were assholes. That’s why spending time at the university was like a torture for you. Though after you started your lessons with Wilhemina it became more bearable.

You weren’t wrong saying that there was more than Venable let people see. And whether she liked it or not, you noticed everything. Every little detail about her. From the way she moved or shift her cane to the changes in her voice tone when she spoke. You could see beyond the thick walls she had been building her whole life and you absolutely loved every second of getting to know her better. She was an incredibly intelligent, independent and strong woman. She always talked so passionately about all the things related to the subject she was teaching. And even though law wasn’t really her thing, she was doing a really good job teaching you and helping with all the stuff. In fact she was better than your other professor. You loved listening to her calm voice and it didn’t really matter what she was talking about. Just the fact it  was no other than Wilhemina Venable made even the most boring thing interesting.

Wilhemina couldn’t deny that you were full of surprises. After everything she had been through in her life she didn’t think there was anything more that could make her feel astonished, but there you were. You were an eloquent and ambitious person. She knew that at once, but she had no idea how hot-tempered and sassy you could be. She got to see that side of you after some time, when you got more comfortable around her. But she didn’t mind. In fact your dry sense of humour, which perfectly matched hers, made her like you even more. You might have been sarcastic or even arrogant at times, though you never disrespected her in front of others. It’s not that other people did. They wouldn’t dare to disrespect her, because they were all afraid of the consequences. Though it was different with you. You were the one who truly respected her and you did that not because of fear, but because in your eyes she deserved that respect. And much to her dismay, it made Wilhemina feel different about you. There was just something in the way you rolled your eyes or made some snarky comment. Something that made her unable to get you out of her head. Wilhemina wasn’t sure whether she liked it or not or whether it was something good or not. The only thing she knew was that you, with no doubt, were the one who could push all her buttons down.

As you got to know her better - teasing Wilhemina became your new favourite hobby. She always knew what to say, except for those moments when she was with you. And you loved seeing her being frustrated or rolling her eyes or when she unsuccessfully tried to tell you off. She may try to seem mad, but you knew that deep inside she liked it as much as you did. 

-

“Do you want me to be honest, Miss Venable?” you started one time when you were in the library

“No” Wilhemina said not averting her eyes from the book she was reading

“Well, I’ll say it anyway”

“I had no doubt you’d do that” she sighed

“Oh c’mon. You love listening to me and my theories, Willy” you used the nickname knowing it would draw her attention

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?” she asked closing the book

“I’m sorry, I don’t take orders” you shrugged “In fact I barely take suggestions”

Wilhemina shook her head.

“You should have been born with a warning sign”

“Shit happens” you laughed at her comment

“Apparently”

“Anyways…”

“Y/N” she cut you off

“Yes?”

“From the bottom of my heart - I don’t care”

“Well, I respectfully don’t care that you don’t care”

It wasn’t possible to tame you and Wilhemina knew that, but she couldn’t let you see how much she actually liked it.

“I was wondering what kind of music you like” you started 

Wilhemina looked at you with anticipation. You rarely dared to make any assumptions about her or if you did you didn’t share them with her. You were usually making fun of other people, so she was curious where your conversation was about to go.

“And?”

“Well, Miss Venable, you seem so calm on the outside, but I bet that behind closed door it’s all loud music, leather and BDSM”

Wilhemina stared at you in silence. Her brown eyes did not blink even once as she examined you. Her serious face expression caused a shiver run through your body. Did you cross some line?

“I… I mean you... just give that kind of vibes… I mean no offense…"

"No harm done"

"Okay. Good" you said looking at your hands instead of looking at Wilhemina as you’d normally  do.

It didn’t happen often that you shy away or get insecure. Your silence was always very suspicious and it usually led to more snarky comments. But it was different that time and Wilhemina knew it. She knew that you got shy and she couldn’t help, but used it against you.

“You are right in fact”

“I am…?” your eyes widened

“Yes, except for the part with leather…  I’m not a huge fan of latex you know”

You blinked completely dumbfounded. You couldn’t quite process her words and so you just stared at her. 

“Oh my, did the great orator lose the ability to speak? Did I make a counselor-to-be speechless?”

“Yes, Miss Venable. You kind of did" you admitted not looking at her, feeling your cheeks slowly turning light pink. You rarely felt embarrassed or confused, so in that very moment Wilhemina felt kind of bad for you. A part of her was satisfied with succeeding and making you shut up, but  there was also that bit of her that found you adorable. She hated seeing a frown of concern on your face, so she decided to act.

“Well” she stood up “You are fine Y/N. I’m just messing”

“So, it’s not true?”

Venable was about to say something, but she closed her mouth without making any sound. She was hesitant or couldn’t find the right words - you weren't sure which one. You kept looking at her as she was moving around the table, that the two of you were sitting at. She walked slowly, her heels and cane clicking on the floor making your knees feel weak.

“To some extent it is, I think” she said finally

“W-what do you mean?” you asked turning round to look at her

“Well” she placed her hand on your shoulder “I do like loud music” she continued playing with the strand of your hair “I listen to classical music mostly, but I like rock too...” she said, but stopped as she looked at your face. 

Wilhemina didn’t know why she was telling you all that, but it felt right. And the smile on your face definitely was worth the effort.

“It’s actually a long story” she said after a long moment of silence

“Now, that you started you have to tell me. Please, please Miss Venable” you looked at her pleadingly

 "I…Would you like a cup of tea, Miss Y/L/N?"

"With you Miss Venable I could drink anything" you joked, but you actually meant that. And you just kind of wished Wilhemina knew how happy you felt whenever you were with her.

-

Wilhemina had been through all of that before. At some point she realized that her heart beating faster every so often whenever you appeared wasn’t just a coincidence. Such kind of tune was known to everyone, including Venable. She was well aware that she wasn’t able to win that war, no matter how hard she tried. That’s why she hoped that particular tune would never play again - at least not in her heart. Yet you appeared in her life. The battle had begun the moment she met you. You were like a hurricane that rearranged her molecules. You were the twist in her sobriety that she wasn’t ready for. And there she was - fighting with herself. It was her and no one else burning in her own hell. She knew that fighting it was a lost cause, yet she still tried to play that game. And she was doing her best, so as not to get too carried away. 

-

“Which part of following the rules you don’t get Y/N?” Wilhemina asked as you appeared in her office with the same enquiry for what felt like a hundredth time

“I understand everything. I’m not asking you to break the rules” you said innocently “I’m only asking to bend them a little” you added smiling

Wilhemina sighed shaking her head.

“Rules are rules” she stated not looking at you, knowing that if she did, she wouldn’t be able to remain cold anymore

“Oh, c’mon dude!” you said out of habit

That’s when she looked at you. Her eyes narrowed into a glare and as they met yours, you immediately realized your mistake. It wasn’t the first time that something like that slipped and you knew for a fact that Wilhemina hated it. She kept trying to cure you of using such kind of sentences, though apparently it didn’t go as well as she thought.

“I… I mean Miss Venable” you corrected yourself

She really wanted to play it cool and remain indifferent, but that pleading look on your face was too much to take. How she hated you for it.

“Why would I agree?” she shifted, sitting more comfortably in her chair

“Because… deep inside you have a heart of gold?”

Wilhemina raised her eyebrows.

“I’m not convinced” she was about to go back to whatever she was doing before you interrupted her

“Ugh… You’re so stubborn” you rolled your eyes

“I told you to stop doing that”

“Doing what?”

“Rolling your eyes at me, Miss Y/N”

“What? I… You never told me that?”

“Well, I’m telling you now”

“T-that’s… Ugh… Fine! I have better arguments”

“I’m all ears”

“First of all, our library needs renovation, but school obviously doesn’t have enough money. So, the plan is…”

Wilhemina kept listening to you, as you were explaining all your ideas to her. She tried hard not to show any kind of emotion, but since you appeared hiding and avoiding her feelings became rather difficult.

“Are you always such a smartass?” she asked unexpectedly 

“No…” you answered a bit dumbfounded “Only when I want to impress you” you added shrugging

Your answer took her by surprise. She really wanted to hold it back, but couldn’t and chuckled. Her cute, genuine laugh made you smile.

“OH.MY.GOD. So, you do smile and laugh” you teased

It was the first time ever that Wilhemina expressed a kind of emotion other than anger, dissatisfaction or boredom. It was new, it was different and it was all because of you. Being around you she couldn’t suppress her emotion, but she was enjoying it more than she would ever admit. In fact, she liked herself better when she was with you. And she obviously couldn’t say ‘no’ to whatever you asked her for - no matter how ridiculous it was for her. 

“Wow… Miss Venable smiled at me” you kept teasing “I’m flattered”

“I didn’t ask for your insight” she said not looking at you 

"Don't worry. It hurts a little less each time" you smiled at how flustered she got

"Keep teasing and there will be no film night or whatever other shit you come up with" she said crossing her arms

"So you agree?" you beamed

"You wouldn't leave me alone if I said 'no'" she answered playing with her pen, trying her best to focus on it instead of you

"Thank you!" you moved quickly and before Wilhemina had a chance to comprehend what was actually going on, you kissed her on her cheek. Her eyes widened. That unexpected move made her feel a thousand of butterflies in her stomach and much to her dismay she didn't know how to get rid of that weird feeling.

"I swear to God, Y/N, I'll strangle you" 

"Is that a promise?" you bit your lip

It took everything in Wilhemina to remain unimpressed and didn't let her feelings show. 

"You're walking on thin ice, Miss Y/N" her voice was calm and the usual grave expression was back, but you could notice how the corner of her mouth twitched a little as she spoke

"I'm aware of it. That's professional risk, Miss Venable" you said with pretended dignity at which Wilhemina rolled her eyes

"Don't you have somewhere else to go?"

"Perhaps, I do"

"Then perhaps you should go"

"Perhaps I should" you said, but kept standing there and looking at her

"Out! Now! Before I lose my patience and decide to throw one of the books at you"

"Umm..." You tilted your head to one side "You wouldn't do that. You like those books too much" 

You were right - she wouldn't do that, but not because of her love to the literature. She wouldn't do that, because she liked you. She liked you more than her books, in fact, and hurting you was the last thing on her mind.

"Okay, I'm leaving" you said finally

"Good" she nodded

"Oooh, one more thing" you stopped at the door and turned round to look at her one more time

"Yes?"

"You have a beautiful smile, Willy" you said and left not waiting for her response

As you closed the door Wilhemina sighed. She stopped holding herself back. She touched her cheek and a wide smile appeared on her face at the thought of your kiss.

"You'll be the death of me, Y/N" she said to herself

Wilhemina was used to being on her own. She devoted herself to her career and didn’t feel like anything in her life was wrong or missing. In fact she was convinced that everything was in place. She never wanted to need someone ever again, but that changed when she met you. Wilhemina knew it. She could feel it, though she still couldn’t accept it.

You were everything she had been avoiding. You were loud, you were talking almost constantly, you couldn’t sit still even for a minute, you were annoying, stubborn, arrogant, sarcastic and funny and charming… She tried to hate you, but it wasn’t possible. You had awaken something inside her. Something that caused her walls to tumble down. You were the only one, who had such effect on her and she truly wanted you in all possible ways. Yet at the same time Wilhemina was scared. She had had her heart broken before, because she had let herself be led astray. She was afraid of getting burnt again.

Besides that she believed that being with you wasn’t possible. Why would you even like her? She was a horrible person. She could be really mean at times and was capable of truly anything. Ever since she had got her heart broken she treated people more like punching bags. She could cut them into pieces with her words alone and that was exactly why she was on her own.

Wilhemina never truly gave a damn about her bad reputation. She didn’t care what people thought or said about her. But since you appeared in her life she was, in fact, constantly worrying about what you may think when and if you found out about certain things she had done. She often wondered how she had became so obnoxious. Or what was it with you that made her act different. She didn’t mean to care so much. She didn’t mean to be lenient with you. She didn’t mean to enjoy your company. And she definitely didn’t mean to fall for you. But she couldn’t help it and so she hated herself for loving you.

-

A film night at the university was one of your many ideas that Wilhemina agreed to. She didn’t like it, but for the sake of you, she couldn’t say ‘no’. Though she made it clear, that it was just a one-off deal and you wouldn’t be allowed to do something like that ever again. Her statement didn’t really bother you. Wilhemina always said things like that, but then changed her mind because of you. You knew she had a soft spot for you and you often wondered how it would be to be with her. Yet you didn’t dare to do anything, afraid of scaring her off or losing her trust.

Wilhemina, of course, couldn’t and didn’t want to show how much she enjoyed seeing you so excited or listening to you talking about that one particular film you chose, so she made much of an effort to hide it and kept complaining. Though you were way too happy to care about it. You completely focused on organizing everything, so that everyone, including you and Wilhemina could enjoy it. You put a lot of effort into that, that’s why you were a bit upset when Wilhemina said nothing and kept ignoring you for almost whole evening. She seemed pretty wired, so you didn’t push. You tried your best to give her space, though you failed miserable as the movie that you had chosen ended and another one, picked by one of your friend, turned out to be a horror.

You hated horror movies and you never watched them on your own. But there you were forced to watch. It wasn’t even the middle of the film and you already couldn’t take it. Wilhemina, on the other hand, seemed completely unmoved. She just sat there and kept watching without any particular expression on her face. Though she did show some emotion, as unexpectedly, you hid your face in her arm - gripping her hand and clinging to her like a child. You were close. Very close. And Wilhemina wasn’t ready for it. She didn’t like when people were that close to her. She knew you didn’t do it on purpose, but couldn’t help and got tensed or maybe even a bit mad.

“Y/N, could you move out of my space?” 

“I… Sorry” you moved immediately 

You internally cursed yourself for acting like that, especially around Venable. You didn’t want to make her feel bad, but you knew you did. You tried to focus on the movie or rather on not freaking out because of it. Though it turned out to be too much for you. You couldn’t keep watching it and you definitely couldn’t hide in Wilhemina’s arms, so you decided it’d be better for you to leave.

Wilhemina watched as you grabbed your things and left without any explanation. At first she was sure you went to the toilet or somewhere, but more and more time passed and you didn’t come back. She began to worry and felt a bit guilty. Without thinking much she stood up and went after you. She slowly wandered through the corridors, wondering what she should do when she finds you. Was it her fault that you left? Should she have not acted the way she did? And why did she even do that? She was longing for your touch. She wanted you close, but then she pushed you away. Wilhemina carried on scolding herself for her behaviour until she found you in the library. You were sitting on the desk and  looking out of the window.

“Y/N?” she called your name closing the door

You jumped at the sudden sound.

“Oh my God” you placed your hand on your heart

“I didn’t mean to scare” she said worriedly

“It’s fine”

“Are you alright?” Wilhemina asked approaching you

“Yeah… I just don’t like horror movies” you shrugged

Venable nodded stopping right next to you. There was a moment of silence, that Wilhemina needed to think through her next move.

“So…” she started

“So” you repeated, remembering that your very first conversation was almost the same. The only difference was that then you were the one who were nervous back then.

“Would you mind if I stay here with you?”

“No, Miss Venable”

“Okay”

You could say something was bothering her, but you knew Wilhemina wasn’t the one to talk about her feelings, so you let it be. You said nothing, just kept looking at her trying to figure out what was going on inside her head.

Wilhemina stared at an old bookcase in front of her. She was lost in her thoughts - recalling her past, wondering how she always ended up making bad decisions, making the people, who cared about her sad or how they always left her. She knew that she was mostly bad and kept pretending, because she didn’t want people to know her. Yet, somehow, you managed to break through her defense and you made her someone new. You took her self control and made her forget to play her role. She loved that feeling, but still she was worried, afraid of making yet another bad decision.

Venable could feel your eyes on her. You were staring all the time, so she turned to face you.

“What?” she asked coldly 

“Nothing” you smiled to yourself and averted your eyes

“It’s not nothing. Tell me”

“I… You are just… so perfect”

Wilhemina looked at you. There was some kind of fear mixed with shock in her eyes.

“Trust me Y/N, I am not”

“Why would you say such stupid thing about yourself?”

“Just look at me...”

“I’m looking at you”

“And what do you see? For people I’m just a horrible, heartless woman… And my disability…”

“For God’s sake, if someone is truly disabled in our university, it’s professor Smith, who suffers from the lack of working brain cells. You’re fine Willy. You’re so very fine that it hurts when you say such things about yourself”

“You’re too precious to know what I’ve done in my lifetime… and, selfishly, I’ve grown to enjoy your company so much that it would tear me apart if I lose you over my past”

“Stop it. You are amazing. You are the most powerful, clever and beautiful woman I’ve ever known. You’re the best thing I’ve seen in quite some time, Willy…” you said biting your lip

“I swear to God, if you call me that one more time…”

“Then what, Willy?” you asked arching your eyebrow playfully

“Then I can’t be held responsible for my actions” she said and kissed you

You smiled against her lips. She was about pulling back, but you held her in place to kiss her back. And for a moment she forgot to worry.

Tag list: @midnight-lestrange​, @natasha-danvers​, @stopkillinglilyrabe​

[vivithefolle]

Love isn’t a Deus Ex Machina thing, it’s literally the core theme of the series, hence why Love Magic exists

Love Magic is never a concept at any time in the series. It’s only about “Lily Potter’s spell”. But what’s so special about Lily Potter? What’s so great about her? She did the thing any halfway decent mother would do for their child: she gave her life for them. Molly would’ve done it for any of her sons. Narcissa would have done it for Draco. Mrs Granger the nonentity would have done it for her daughter had she not been lobotomized instead. Lily Potter’s sacrifice isn’t anything special. It’s only special because Rowling decided so, because the Plot needed it to be.

Love isn’t a Deus Ex Machina thing? Then how come Quirrel conveniently burned to death at Harry’s hands? How come Harry had to live at Privet Drive because reasons so he could be abused so naive readers like you could feel very sorry for the poor widdle orphan and pat themselves on the back because wow, aren’t you special for feeling sorry for the poor widdle orphan?

And I didn’t misunderstand Harry. I literally explained him to you

If you don’t like him, I don’t care. Just stop giving his uniqueness to other characters

And you literally showed me exactly why you don’t understand him.

Harry’s superpower isn’t teh special uniqueness of his luuuurve, or the absolute pure pureness of his heart, it’s that he has FRIENDS. Friends who’d die for him, friends who’d sacrifice themselves for him, friends who’d do anything for him. THAT’S the power of love, not some bullshit ~special pure pureness of the heart of Harry Christ our lord and savior~. Harry isn’’t unfailingly kind or uniquely loving or whatever the shit. Harry is a run-of-the-mill teenager who has such obscene luck I wouldn’t be surprised to learn he was conceived under the influence of Lucky Potion.

You just showed me you’re a member of the Church of Harry Christ and I’m not interested in joining. Dear God I thought I was too attached to fictional characters but wow am I glad I’m not at your level.

Also one more thing: “tortured” someone?

Sure. A painful stunner is DEF torture (that’s legit all his Crucio did; it acted as a painful stunner. It threw Carrow backwards and hurt him while it did. Crucio isn’t even close to that when performed properly)

............ you... you fucking little hypocrite.

You filthy, lying, little bitch cunt of a fucking hypocrite.

Remember when I said the next person who’d try to lie to me to pity poor wee widdle Hawwy would be sorry? You pathetic little piece of shit. If you’re so in luuurve with your precious cuntfuck of a camera archetype you’d accept EVERYTHING about him, wouldn’t you? Haha, but noooo. “Oh wee poor Hawwy only used a painful stunner :)))))))” you fucking little bitch. Oh you accuse ME of trying to “make Hawwy not special :(((” but you... YOU... Hahahaha sorry everyone. I have a slight aversion to people blatantly trying to gaslight me. You may find me getting a little bit angry if you happen to trod on this trigger of mine.

Let’s see that again shall we? Open your eyes and your chakras, bitch, we’re going for a ride.

“It’s not a case of what you’ll permit, Minerva McGonagall. You time’s over. It’s us what’s in charge here now, and you’ll back me up or you’ll pay the price.” And he spat in her face. Harry pulled the Cloak off himself, raised his wand, and said, “You shouldn’t have done that.” As Amycus spun around, Harry shouted, “Crucio!” The Death Eater was lifted off his feet. He writhed through the air like a drowning man, thrashing and howling in pain, and then, with a crunch and a shattering of glass, he smashed into the front of a bookcase and crumpled, insensible, to the floor. “I see what Bellatrix meant,” said Harry, the blood thundering through his brain, “you need to really mean it.” - Deathly Hallows

If I could reach through my screen to force you to look at the relevant bits, I would. And I’d also slap you in passing. Yknow, just so you think twice before being a stinking fucking hypocrite again in the future.

Now, let’s do some actual literary analysis that isn’t your ~wah hawwy puwe of heawt luuurrrve~ diarrhea you’re still trying to paint my poor innocent blog with.

Now let’s see that PaInFuL sTuNnEr in detail:

He writhed through the air like a drowning man, thrashing and howling in pain 

In bold so you can see it very well. Admire the curve of each letter, the angles and the lines. And most of all, interpret the meaning of each and every word. Watch how he’s compared to “a drowning man”, do you know how excruciatingly painful and distressing it is to drown? How the air fills your lungs as you claw desperately for the surface, trying to find something to cling to, anything, the feeling of your lungs filling with this foreign substance you cannot spit back out? The feeling of fading away as all your oxygen is consumed by the futility of your hopeless flailing, your muscles losing their strength, your panic dulling as you slip into unconsciousness and water claims yet another victim...

Of course, drowning people don’t thrash and howl in pain. Because all they’re focused on is trying to BREATHE. But Amycus’ focus isn’t on trying to breathe. Amycus is only focus on Harry’s Crucio and the pain it’s bringing him.

But sure Anon. A pAiNfUl StUnNeR. Fuck you.

and then, with a crunch and a shattering of glass 

Now I’m aware Dummywood has made you believe that glass can be traversed easy without any consequences but real glass doesn’t work like that. Real glass takes some force to shatter. Real glass shatters into hundreds of tiny pieces that embed themselves into your flesh and skin, kinda like... oh! Kinda like that glass chandelier that fell on Hermione, once. After she herself was Crucio’d if I remember well. Hmm, by whom exactly, I have it on the tip of my tongue...

“I see what Bellatrix meant,” 

Ah yes. By the woman who tortured to insanity Neville’s parents and whom Harry is literally acknowledging as having taught him this particular lesson.

Harry himself is TELLING US HE LISTENED TO BELLATRIX’S ADVICE. ON FUCKING TORTURING PEOPLE. But “a PaInFuL sTuNnEr He’S aN oRpHaN :’‘‘(((((”. Fuck off. Fuck off, Anon. Fuck off and learn to fucking read.

Ah but I got ahead of myself! We’re not even CLOSE to the point!

he smashed into the front of a bookcase and crumpled, insensible, to the floor 

So Amycus gets tortured - or, as Anon astutely put it, pAiNfUl StUnNeR - smashes through a sheet of glass, and gets knocked out.

Hmm. Now if Harry just took out a knife and brought it to Carrow’s neck, he’d be worthy of being called Bellatrix’s faithful apprentice.

And now I’m gonna quote one of my Quora answers again because my followers deserve better than to see me completely lose my mind at some anonymous cowardly cunt trying to lie to my fucking face.

On the topic of Harry’s Crucios:

This could mean that Harry is scarily proficient at casting Crucio, that Amycus has low pain tolerance or that he was knocked out when he fell, but regardless of the meaning, IT’S NOT GOOD. EVEN IF IT’S A DEATH EATER, EVEN IF HE PROBABLY DESERVES COMEUPPANCE - IT’S NOT HARRY’S JOB TO GIVE OUT SAID COMEUPPANCE.

(Like, can I please remind everyone that Harry is supposed to be the Jesus Christ of his story? In the Bible we never have Jesus Christ torturing the pharisees or any of those who didn’t believe in him. Just… you’re telling me Jesus “Peace and Love” Christ would torture people… what the hell, Joanne?)

“I see what Bellatrix meant,” said Harry, the blood thundering through his brain, “you need to really mean it.”

…………………….. Um. Harry, what the fuck are you doing???! He’s taken Bellatrix’s advice! He actually relates to the insane sadistic terrorist! He is capable of using a curse that literally requires sadism to work!

(Again, when someone tells me “Jesus Christ”, “sadism” isn’t the first word that would come to my mind.)

At least there’s some sort of reaction. “the blood thundering through his brain”. But that’s a very… nondescriptive reaction. Is it the “adrenaline pumping in my veins” blood? Is it the “holy shit what have I done” blood? Is it the “I could get used to this” blood?

We don’t know. We’ll never know.

Alright, skipping to the part that interests us -

She struggled to pull herself together. “Potter, that was foolish!”

Eh, I’d have said “tactically unsound” (what if Amycus wasn’t knocked out), “monstrous” (that’s Bellatrix’s favourite curse you’re using, Harry), “insane” (re: Bellatrix), but yeah, I guess “foolish” would also cover it.

“He spat at you,” said Harry.

Ever heard of Disproportionate Retribution, Harry? A few fascists regimes all over the world were especially fond of it.

Then I’m skipping over the one thing that causes the most outrage because I’ll go back to it soon, just let me finish with this:

“[…] but don’t you realize — ?” “Yeah, I do,” Harry assured her. Somehow her panic steadied him.

I guess we can imagine that McGee is saying “don’t you realize what you’ve just done?”

Harry “assures” her he realizes. Harry knows. Harry has just used the literal goddamn Torture Curse and he’s totally cool with it. Or, if he was uncool with it, now he’s cool with it. Because “her panic steadied him”. So seeing McGonagall panic makes Harry think “yeah, using Crucio was the right thing to do”.

Well then! Onwards then, Dark Lord Potter! First it’s just one Crucio, then it’s just three, then it’s just one little murder of one lowly little naysayer, then it’s only a little more murder…

And now we’ll go back a smidge, because how are we supposed to react?

How are we supposed to reconcile the idea of Harry, who’s supposed to save us all through his Power of Love, with the Harry that has just tortured a man into inconsciousness?

Even if that man was a Death Eater, Harry is supposed to be the Christ-like figure. He’s supposed to be love and forgiveness incarnate. Heck, not a hundred pages later he’ll offer forgiveness to freaking Voldemort! He forgives Draco Malfoy, he forgives Albus Dumbledore, he forgives Severus Snape!

So how do we reconcile Harry Potter The Forgiver with Harry Potter The Torturer? Tell us, O Author! Tell us how to navigate the murky, twisted depths of human morality!!

“Potter, I — that was very — very gallant of you — […]”

…

…………………

………………………………………………

That was… gallant?

Gallant?

Wait, doesn’t gallantry imply some form of honor?

As in, not taking your opponent by surprise -

Harry pulled the Cloak off himself, raised his wand…

As in, facing your opponent head-on instead of hitting them in the back -

As Amycus spun around, Harry shouted…

As in, not torturing your opponent???

He writhed through the air like a drowning man, thrashing and howling in pain

That’s… unless the definition has changed, nothing about this is gallant…

Let me just -

(of a man) polite and kind towards women, especially when in public

showing no fear of dangerous or difficult things

Alright, so, Amycus isn’t a woman, so Harry can’t, by definition, be “gallant” to him.

Still, being “polite and kind” to a woman didn’t involve “torturing someone who disrespected her”, last time I checked. Punching an asshole harrassing her, definitely *pats Ron*, but torturing that asshole… no, just no.

And well, I guess casting Cruciatus is a difficult thing to do… and Harry didn’t seem very afraid to do it… that’s not supposed to be a good thing, but apparently, now it is…?

What made that

As Amycus spun around, Harry shouted, “Crucio!”

more gallant than

“What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!”

After all, they’re the exact same thing. Torture. Inflicting tremendous pain upon someone for the heck of it.

Why do people lose their heads over Harry using Crucio, when they seem to neglect the fact that Draco Malfoy cast it?

Well, easy enough - Draco Malfoy is an evil little cockroach. The guy wished death upon people, he bragged about the fact that his Daddy dearest was a terrorist who killed people. It’s not too surprising that an evil little cockroach like him would find it acceptable to torture someone he considers “not human”, isn’t it?

What’s more surprising however, is that the hero, Harry Potter, who has been subjected to the Torture Curse, whose only use of the Torture Curse previously was when he felt distress and pain unlike any other, that Harry Potter whom is supposed to be a hero and some sort of role model, would actually manage to use said Torture Curse even though it requires real sadism to actually work.

And what’s even worse is that Harry Potter casts that curse, that literal Torture Curse, and instead of being rightly horrified, instead of being terrified by the boy’s use of such a heinous spell, instead of saying “alright Harry, you’re not doing this again, ever, right?”, instead…

Instead McGonagall calls Harry “gallant”, instead of telling him off for using such a curse. She briefly calls him “foolish”, but it doesn’t register, really, since she ends up calling him “gallant”.

That’s what angers people. That the Torture Curse is the most horrible, awful thing you can do to people… unless you’re Harry Potter, in which case it is a little “foolish”, but mostly “gallant”.

......................

But of course, little Anon over here isn’t angered. Because little Anon is a faithful devoted member of the Church of Harry Christ Our Lord And Saviour. Little Anon can say enormities like A pAiNfUl StUnNeR and believe it with the whole force of their little Anon heart, because uwu Hawwy speshul orphan pure lurve uwu.

Little Anon, please get the fuck out of my blog and never, ever come back. I’m sure this arrangement will be beneficial for everyone involved.

[raevenlywrites]

The Ties That Bind 17 of ???

I collapsed languidly into the bath, more thankful than I could say that Elanor had started preparing it when I landed at the Keep. A bath, a change of clothes, and moment to feel like myself was the best welcome home I could have possibly asked for. The only way it might have at all been improved on was if I’d had time to wash my hair. A solid week since we’d left for the Mistari. Maybe more. The days were all starting to blur together, and their accumulated grime clung to me. If only the weight of everything else that had happened in those days could be so easily lifted.

Elanor sat behind me, working scented powders through my hair. The familiarity of the ritual soothed me even more than the heat of the blessedly still warm tub. How many hours had we passed like this, talking and gossiping, her fingers working on my hair or with a needle, her words working on the threads of my thoughts.

“You are a wonder, Elanor. There are no words.”

She laughed and scratched at my scalp, earning her a soft murmur of appreciation.

“I’m still your lady in waiting. And that’s all I’ve doing these past few days. Waiting.”

She said the last with a not so subtle hint in her tone. I joined in her laugh, feeling better about things than I had in days. Talks with Elanor had a way to making everything seem less dire.

“I’m sorry you’ve been kept out of the loop, dear friend. You’re right; there is much to talk about.”

I closed my eyes and drew a deep breath through my nose, trying to gather my thoughts. The soft scents of the water made me sleepy; we’d tried many herbs and flowers of the years in attempts to soothe away my bad dreams. I wondered now if our attempts had only ever succeeded in keeping me asleep, locking me in my nightmares rather than banishing them. I still hadn’t quite come to terms with my apparent sleeping through Zane Cobriana flying madly up to my room those few nights ago.

Nor with my best friend doing said flying.

“I still cant’ believe you snuck Zane up into my room,” I muttered, sinking lower into the bath. “Isn’t that treason or something?”

Elanor’s fingers stilled. I rolled my face up to look at her, shocked to see the dismay on her face.

“Elanor! Elanor, I’m kidding!” I reached to take one of her hands in mine, sloshing water. “Please, it was a joke. I’m not angry. Without you...”

There was no way to know what events might or might not have been set in motion. Perhaps Zane would have been mad enough to scale the Keep walls by hand--or more sensibly, surrender himself like his sister Irene had. I had no doubt Zane would have found a way, so determined he was to end this war. Determined enough to marry himself off to a hawk. My toes curled at the thought. I pushed them aside and focused on my distressed friend.

“We’re all going to have to do drastic things to end this war. Mad things. I’m not angry with you. Just... surprised.”

The look Elanor gave me was so full of grief it took my breath away. It looked so alien on the familiar avian face. It looked too much like Zane, and Adelina, as they’d grieved over the loss of Gregory.

“Dani, you have no idea how scared I was. Zane... he’s very charismatic, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

I nodded, my expression caught between a laugh and a wince. Charismatic seemed an understatement.

“It just all seemed so reasonable, with my aunts’ story of his convalescing in their home, and his words about how you’d tried to work things out at the Mistari, and if he could just see you--“

She cut off, shaking her head. “It feels so stupid now, after the fact. You’re right; it was treasonous. It scares me to know that I could do such a thing. To anyone, let alone to you, Dani. I... I just can’t believe.”

I squeezed her hand, wishing I hadn’t started this conversation while I was in the bath. I wanted to put an arm around her, reassure her that she was still one of my dearest friends. Instead I lay there wet and naked and awkward, wondering how to offer comfort. In times of hurt or grief, I would sing. But to the best of my knowledge, there was no lullaby or ballad for revolutionaries.

“Zane spoke to me of Fate,” I said slowly, trying to see the words before they came out of my mouth. I was going on instinct, and as I’d learned recently, that could sometimes just make things worse.

“He told me Fate brought him to your aunts’ house, and I believe he’s right. Maybe what possessed you wasn’t serpent wiles, but the gears of something larger than any of us.”

I gave up on decorum and decided I wanted out of this tub. “Help me dry off, and let me fill you in on all you’ve missed.” Brightening, I remembered a particular bit of gossip that would certainly lift her mood. “And you can give me some advice on how to proceed with Rei--now that we’ve kissed.”

He girlish squeal was exactly the effect I’d hoped for, and my bubbly, dreamy, daring Elanor was back. I told her of Rei backing me before my mother and all but naming himself my alastair, of the rush and confusion of our first kiss, how badly I wished I hadn’t made such a decision now, with the serpiente en route for peace talks.

“I’m sure that’s what urged his hand,” Elanor said as she did up the laces at my back. Nearly all of my formal gowns had laces for the demi-wings of my third form. “What with Zane galloping in on a big black horse and asking for your hand.”

“He didn’t ask for my hand,” I shot back, already tired of quelling that rumor before it had even properly circulated. “The Mistari suggested it as an option. Zane and I haven’t had a chance to discuss anything else.”

Elanor snorted but I didn’t let her voice whatever goading point she was about to make.

“Did you know he gave that horse to your aunts? His and Adelina’s. ‘For all the trouble’, apparently.”

Elanor gasped. “That’s-- those horses must be worth a fortune! Gods, and probably cost a fortune to upkeep. Do you think he’ll be offended if they sell them?”

I shrugged. “I have no idea?” Slyly, I added, “Why don’t you ask him when he gets here?”

We lost ourselves in giddy laughter, needing the release. It was so good to laugh with Elanor while she dressed me for the assembly. Almost good enough to distract me from my nerves.

Of course, my mother coming in to strategize about said assembly pretty undid it all that in a matter of seconds. - Sitting in my ante room, ignoring the tea that Elanor poured before quietly retreating, my mother and I were getting no where.

“You can’t be mad about this, mother. You’re the one who pulled us from the neutral lands we’d already agreed to meet on. What other options were exactly left for us? You made it clear you wouldn’t tolerate us camping in the woods.”

“Danica-- you know why-- that isn’t the point. The point is what exactly do you plan to do with him now. Here. In the heart of your kingdom?”

I resisted the urge to rub at my temples. Instead, I allowed myself a different breech of decorum: honestly speaking my mind.

“I wish all this had happened after I’d taken the throne.”

My mother sighed and nodded. “Agreed. Things would be so much simpler if Rei was already your alastair. Then maybe the Disa might have suggested something useful--or at least something less offensive.” It was my turn to sigh.

“Mother, Zane is a perfectly fine gentlemen--“

“He’s a serpent--“

“Who has not once raised a hand against me. Do you understand that, mother? The sheer number of times he could have ended my life by now--“

“That is hardly reassuring, Shardae.”

I grit my teeth. What I wanted to do was scream. What I did was take another careful breath.

“I need you to back me on this, mother. We need to present a united front, one that is in control and unafraid. If we’re seen to flinch around the serpiente, this will never work. The citizenry will panic and the Keep will be bathed in blood in a matter of moments.”

It was one of our most sacred tennets that blood never be spilled within the Keep. Even meat was prepared off the grounds and brought in, to keep the heart of our kingdom free of death. It was at the foundation of our wards, and utterly unthinkable that anyone would dare break the taboo within its walls.

Just as unthinkable as a cobra marrying a hawk.

My mother straightened, and I could almost see her pulling her reserve back into place around herself.

“Of course. We will do whatever it takes to keep our halls secure.”

Hardly a reassuring phrasing, but it would have to do.

“So. What are your plans for introducing this visiting dignitary to your court?”

The Ties That Bind Tag list: @thehellinsideyourhead @therecouldbecolorsandlove @adventuresofacreesty @writing-with-melon @rainydaydarling @faithfire

Raev’s Gen Tag List (should I tag you guys in this? It IS a thing I wrote. I’m gonna say yes unless you guys are like “no of course not we’re sick of hearing about your stupid fic for a twenty year old book XD)

No one has complained yet so yall gonna keep getting tagged :P

List is currently: @lordkingsmith @writinglyra @drbibliophile @mperialscribe @adie-dee @lexiklecksi @theramwrites @writinginslowmotion @raenawrites @apollon-arium @anika-writes @faithfire @thehellinsideyourhead @adventuresofacreesty

[willownoir1112]

Hello you beautiful people of Tumblr! Wyn here with another chapter of the Red Reaper and the White Princess! At this point, I had a good working idea of the plot I was developing, and decided to start with Oobleck's class as the official derailment of canon. I hope everyone enjoys!

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Dr. Oobleck's Class

Weiss smiles as she chats with Ruby, who met her at the front of the building housing Doctor Oobleck’s class and walked in with her. And thankfully, Ruby was sitting between her and the blonde brute who somehow understands her heart better than she herself does. Which is distressing, but not something she can afford to worry about for now. Right now, she has to bring her grade up in Oobleck’s class, so she cannot afford any more distractions.

Distractions like a pair of quicksilver eyes that can see into her soul. So long as they can’t see the ugliness and hideousness hidden there, she can afford to bask occasionally.

But her poolgazing comes to an end as Oobleck zooms into the classroom in his usual over caffeinated state, getting more than one groan from the students as he plunges into today’s lesson about the Faunus War. She works diligently of course, as expected of a proper Schnee as her father expects her to be of course. But why? 

Her ears twitch as Oobleck catches her attention. "Yes! Yes, prior to the Faunus Rights Revolution, more popularly known as the Faunus War." Weiss watches dispassionately as he zooms behind his desk and uses a pointer on his map of the world, not flinching as it makes an audible smack on the laminated paper loud enough to make Ruby and the other faunus present flinch.

But all Weiss can hear is her father’s voice in another one of his rages. A Schnee does not flinch! A Schnee never allows themselves to show surprise!

"Humankind was quite, quite adamant about centralizing the Faunus population in Menagerie." He continues as he drags the pointer downward on the laminate, causing all the faunus to whimper and squirm in their seats, as well as finally waking Diane Brunneis from team MADM up from a rather impressive nap. The tall Squirrel faunus girl grumbles as her partner and teammate Aqua Burrell shushes her quickly. She absentmindedly listens to Oobleck apologize to all of them even as he also gives the brutal tank a detention for sleeping in his class. But Weiss’s thoughts aren’t even there anymore. They are far away in her Father’s study back in Atlas.

Animals like you and your siblings need to learn your places! I shall not tolerate your insolence like I tolerated Willow’s for so long! Jacques Schnee’s voice continues to haunt her despite her best efforts to focus. She may have been a brilliant summoner and a better fighter than you, but in the end, I dealt with your twin like the mongrel that she was! And she learned her place after the beating she took!

 "Now! While this must feel like ancient history to many of you, it is imperative to remember that these are relatively recent events! Why, the repercussions of the uprising can still be seen to this day!" Weiss barely follows him as he zooms around the class, waking sleeping students up with pokes and prods between sips from his prodigious cup of coffee. She barely makes out Jaune’s muffled curses, or Dove Bronzewing’s indignant cry when his feet are shoved to the floor. All she can think of is the second worst day of her life. The day her twin sister Willow ran away.

“Willow! Please! You can’t leave me here alone with him!” Weiss yells at her twin, who is making her way slowly out of the manor. But she gasps as she sees the black ribbon tied around her eyes.

“I can’t Weiss. I can’t do this anymore!” Willow cries out to her. “He blinded me Weiss! All because he could no longer stand to see the truth within my eyes! The truth that he is a pretender to the throne! A fraud! And I cannot pay too many more prices!” Weiss sobs as she reaches for a sister that seems to be moving steadily farther and farther away from her. But her final words still ring in her wolf’s ears as if they were freshly spoken.

“I am always but a thought away sister. We are still two sides of the same coin. And that is something that man cannot ever take from us.”

"Now!” Oobleck declares as he finishes his sweep of the classroom. “Have any among you been subjugated or discriminated against because of your Faunus heritage?" 

Have I been discriminated against?

Diane and Aqua both raise their hands in the back….

Have I been subjugated?

First Velvet, then Ruby slowly raise their hands as the brute growls softly and mutters angrily about narrow minded idiots.

Dr. Oobleck sighs. "Dreadful, simply dreadful! Remember, students, it is precisely this kind of ignorance that breeds violence!" He comments as he takes yet another sip of his coffee.

Violence? Does abuse count as violence? Do all these things mean….

The silence in the classroom is so complete, so total as everyone stares at Weiss Schnee, the Heiress of the world’s most powerful corporation and arguably the richest person to ever step foot in Beacon, as she slowly raises her hand. 

“My twin sister and I have suffered greatly because we are faunus….”

[physical-manifestation-of-spite]

The Picture Pinned on the Wall - Mp100 Fanfiction

Also read on Ao3

Beware the read-more. It’s long.

“It started with a picture, and then it got worse from there.

Reigen wasn’t supposed to get so attached.”

Reigen meets the boy when he’s ten years old, and he’s pretty sure he feels nothing. Actually, the first feeling associated towards this kid is hostility, as this juvenile swaggers to his door and bemoans the destruction of his own powers. The prank is not elaborate, nor funny, but it wastes Reigen’s time, which is always the goal for these kids. He almost slams the door in the kid’s face — he never thought of himself as  good  with children, having neither the patience nor tolerance for these sorts of stunts — but then the child continues. His eyes are wide and bloodshot and full of terror, and it makes Reigen pause. Kids aren’t normally such good actors. The boy holds a white knuckled-grip on the straps of his backpack, his small body swallowed up by the expanse of the doorframe, and it takes another minute for Reigen to decide that he’s not lying. Then, there’s this twist in his gut that he knows won’t go away until he hears this bowl-haired kid out. He bites at the flesh inside his cheek and invites the boy inside. 

It wasn’t supposed to go further than a cup of tea and a bid farewell. The kid shares his troubles with such vivid imagination that leaves Reigen impressed. A child conjuring the idea of spirits gnawing at the safety barriers in a neighbor’s home, with the boy able to exorcise all of them with a wave of his hand and, in a horrifying realization, harm the neighbors as well — perhaps there’s some psychological trauma Reigen has no business handling. But when Reigen presses for clues, the boy speaks of his parents fondly, without a hint of distress, and his life seems otherwise normal. It’s not much to go off on, but then Reigen remembers that this kid isn’t his problem, and he’s taking up time that could otherwise be used to be speaking with clients, so he chews on a quick speech to help soothe the child’s nerves enough to send him home, a reformed man. 

“Be a good person.” That was fine enough. He couldn’t go wrong with that. Nothing to twist the child’s worldview into some killer. Whatever his complex — and confidence for this child to kill another human being was something new — if he was taught that his powers were not inherently evil, but rather a tool for him to use, then he would be alright. Especially after he broke out of his fantasy. 

And then the child  stares  at him. It unnerves him, the open expression of awe on the child’s face, like a flower turning towards the sun. He looks as though Reigen’s led him to fresh waters and he’s been dying in the desert, and Reigen takes to flexing his fingers on his tea mug. The child asks if he can come again. This, Reigen did not sign up for. He runs his fingers around the back of his neck, concocting some excuse that the kid couldn’t possibly take as an insult. Then, Reigen burns his tongue on his tea.

The cup falls out of his hand. His stomach shoots up to his throat as he grabs vainly at the cup, but it’s already begun its descent towards the kid. He shouts for the kid to get out of the way, and then the cup, the bubbles of tea — they’re all floating. They bob in the air like they’re suspended in water, five feet over the ground, and Reigen’s mind goes completely, white-hot blank as the tea politely bubbles back into the cup and drops neatly into the kid’s outstretched hand. Reigen stares.

And stares. 

He asks when the kid is available each week to meet.

—

Shigeo Kageyama is his name. Reigen calls him Mob. The boy is simple. It’s evident in his appearance; bowl cut hair that hides the top of his eyes, unexpressive in regards to anything, and he always wears his grade school uniform. Mob fits, and the boy doesn’t seem to mind the nickname. 

Maybe it’s dangerous, Reigen giving him a nickname. He shouldn’t get attached. But on the other hand, the boy  needs to feel attached to Reigen, otherwise this won’t work and he won’t visit clients with him. But it isn’t hard, with Mob returning to Reigen’s office each day, staring expectantly at the self-proclaimed psychic as though he’s going to perform a miracle. Reigen obliges when he can, and the boy is quite easy to trick. With a wag of his finger and a few choice words, he enrages the spirits before looking expectantly to Mob to “clean them up” for him. After their screams dissipate into a puff of smoke, he concocts a speech about self-restraint, and they leave, Mob satisfied with his brilliant master, and Reigen is satisfied with a thicker wallet. They return to the office and share the news with the client, an elderly woman whose judgment relies more on superstition than wisdom. She is his favorite kind. She signs the necessary paperwork, which Reigen slides neatly into a pile and wishes her well. Before the woman goes, she glances briefly at Mob, who is seated at a makeshift desk Reigen had clawed out of his closet to create, made out of two stacks of cardboard and a long wooden slab that’s covered by a tablecloth. Reigen doesn’t even remember where he got a tablecloth. 

Her smile is fond. “Does your son come here often after school?” 

Reigen chokes, which is unfortunate because he wasn’t even eating anything. Reigen disguises it as a cough and pounds a fist into his chest. Mob looks at him in alarm. Reigen is waving his hand in the air to belay any concern.

“No,” he chokes again, and there’s a disgusting amount of phlegm in his throat. “No, he’s not my son. He’s more of a, uh…” He almost says “employee.” He’s definitely not. 

Realization dawns on the woman’s face. “Ah, he’s your apprentice. Excuse me for assuming. He’s just so young.” 

Reigen is about to wave off her apology, but he notes the change of tone at the last sentence, and he closes his mouth. The woman is staring at him intently.

“Is he compensated well?”

Maybe her judgment is not so slanted toward superstition after all. Reigen likes her a lot less. 

“He’s compensated just fine.” His tone is not necessarily snappish, but there’s a warning hidden there, at the back of his throat. The woman smiles, but it’s all thin lips and tight cheeks. 

“That’s always good. A boy should learn early how to make a living for his family.”

Reigen matches her tight smile. “He’s a hard worker. He’ll be ahead of his peers in no time.”

“I’m sure he already is.” The woman shoulders her purse, smooths her blouse, and pats the base of her curls. She turns and winks at Mob. 

“Perhaps I’ll see you boys in the future.”

“Oh,” says Mob, who enlaces his fingers together nervously. “I hope not. That means you’ll have more spirits. That’s... bad.” 

The woman’s smile doesn’t waver, but it softens under Mob’s genuine concern. “Yes,” she says, “that’s bad.” She steers her gaze back to Reigen. “But who knows? After all, 98% reduction rate… well, it’s not 100%.”

Reigen bites his tongue. His smile is plastered on his face. “Well,” he says, voice smooth as silk, “you know who to call if it ever comes to that. Have a good day, ma’am.”

Her smile is more of a sneer, but she bows to them both and ushers herself out the door. The moment it closes, Mob looks to Reigen.

“What does ‘compensated’ mean?”

Reigen really doesn’t like that woman.

———

Weeks later, they arrive back at the office late. It’s nearly dark. Reigen had hoped to get back to the office earlier and close up in time to catch dinner before rush hour, but his call volume has gone up. Word was getting out that self-proclaimed psychic Reigen Arataka could exorcise spirits  legitimately. It’s certainly not a back-to-back call operation, but it is more than he has ever gotten in the past. He has calls to return.

The office is stale and hot when Reigen swings open the door; he had shut off the air conditioner before they had left. It leaves the place feeling sticky, but Reigen merely adjusts his tie and flicks the lights on. The office is bathed in a tired yellow glow.

Mob ambles to his cardboard-wood desk and pulls his backpack from under it. The balanced cardboard sways precariously. “Shishou,” Mob begins, and it makes Reigen’s hand still over his laptop. Mob started calling him that the day after their client thumbed Kageyama as his apprentice. Sure, Reigen considered the term loosely the day Mob left his office for the first time with the assurance that he would be under Reigen’s tutelage, but the use of “shishou” left Reigen’s head spinning. It meant he couldn’t get out of this easily, if he ever wanted to. Pursue his next career goal of becoming a private investigator, for example. That was stuffed further in the wastebin the more Mob used that word. 

Reigen still isn’t willing to throw the wastebin out just yet, though. He blinks and forces himself to take the name in stride. He begins typing idly against the keys of his laptop.

“Hm?”

“Um,” Mob says, playing with the zipper of his backpack. “Um, I’m going home now.”

“Hm.”

“Um,” he says again. The kid is clearly waiting for Reigen to acknowledge him further, so Reigen peels his eyes away from his laptop screen to stare at Mob. 

“Right. Get home safe.”

It isn’t really his responsibility to walk the kid home anyway. If Shigeo’s parents are letting their ten-year-old son walk to and from school, with pockets of no communication between then and now, Reigen isn’t going to butt in. In a way, Reigen is grateful that Mob has such laid-back parents. The wary, clingy types always complicated things.

Mob nods. Reigen waits expectantly for a moment longer, eyebrows raised as the sun dips faster below the cityscape and his laptop begins to cast a blue hue over his face. Mob flushes the more he’s under Reigen’s steady gaze, and finally he stares back at his zippers, nodding again. 

“Okay. See you tomorrow, Shishou.”

Reigen starts typing at his keys again, but the black text keeps fizzing in and out of his vision as he listens to the rattle of Mob’s zippers as he slips into his backpack straps, the loose pencils in his bag rattling their muffled tune. Reigen is gnawing at the inside of his cheek, a pitted twist forming at the base of his gut, and it grows with each clack of Mob’s shoes against the hardwood flooring. He sighs just before the office door squeals open.

“Oi. Mob.”

Mob turns, his hands still wrapped around the handle of the door. Reigen is getting up from his desk. He fishes out his wallet and begins to count. The twist in his gut loosens a little bit. 

“Here,” Reigen says, holding a fist towards Mob. He waits for the boy to open his palm, and then he lets the coins fall with a faint metal ring, into the center of his palm. 

Mob stares at the coins. “What’s this?”

“That’s compensation.” 

Mob counts. “This is three hundred yen.”

Reigen raises an eyebrow. He almost takes it back. “And you’re ten years old.”

Mob counts the coins again. He rolls them around in his palm, then pinches each one between his fingers, staring at their thickness. “It’s three hundred yen,” Mob remarks again, but it’s not accusatory. He stares at the coins in wide-eyed wonder, as if he’s never seen three hundred yen in his life. 

Reigen is starting to feel uncomfortable. He clears his throat. “ Well  , as I said, you’re being compensated for working under me as my apprentice. Normally, I don’t fork out this sort of money, since you’re my  apprentice, not my employee, but—” Reigen waves his hand upward, gesturing vaguely above him, as if the situation that he threw himself in with this kid is somehow resting in the middle space above him, watching with impish glee, “—I ought to compensate you for your, ah, training during my job.”

Mob looks at him, enraptured. His fingers close around the coins, and they don’t make a sound when Mob bows. 

“Thank you, Master Reigen.” Reigen can only see the top of the boy’s head as he bows.

Reigen’s palm feels sticky when he rests it against his neck. He really needs to turn on the air conditioning. “Right. See you tomorrow.”

When Mob straightens, he’s smiling. It’s faint, and it could be a trick of the light, the way that the shadows curve over the boy’s face. Reigen doesn’t have time to check, because the boy twists the handle of the door and leaves Spirits and Such Consultation office without another sound.  

The conman stares at the empty space, palm still pressed against the back of his neck. The air conditioner is ghostly quiet, dead against the window. When he removes his hand, it takes a moment to unstick from his skin. He sits there, the glow of his laptop beginning to dull his senses.

He’s just covering his ass. He gave him a threadbare amount — pocket change — to keep the elderly clients’ mouths shut. Hell, he doesn’t even have to  pay the kid. He’s ten years old. They signed no documents. He’s doing Mob a favor, letting him come with him to his jobs. Now he’s paying Mob a modest wage that no other ten-year-old is making. Reigen’s neck is starting to feel moist. 

He doesn’t turn on his air conditioning that night. 

—

He’s trying not to care. But it’s hard — it’s so damn hard — when Mob looks at him with such open and baring trust, as though he’s placed his heart in Reigen’s hands and knows that he’ll squeeze it to keep it beating. He does it every day, nestling his backpack between the two cardboard stands of his makeshift desk, and watches Reigen with rapt attention, analyzing every move he makes.

“How do you do it, Shishou?” 

Reigen glances up from his desk, seconds after he had bit into his burger, the paper crinkling noisily in his hand. “Do what?” he says eloquently around his wad of burger.

“How do you keep it inside instead of it going out?”

Reigen’s mouth feels like paste, and he swallows the burger with difficulty. He stares at the corner of his office, searching for something to say. (A small voice tells him that he’s way over his head — another argues that he’s just a kid, really; how bad can it be?) The bun of the burger had formed a thin layer of mush behind his teeth, and he buys time by cleaning it out with his tongue. 

“Well,” Reigen says, and clears his throat when his voice cracks at the end syllable. “I’m doing it just like you are now. I stay calm. Remember the knife.” He forms his hand into a fist, wiggling around an invisible knife. “I’m in control. So are you. It’s not something to fear.” He offers a small smile. “I learn to trust myself, Mob. In time, you will, too.”

And there it is again, that look of raw hope. Reigen doesn’t have the heart to discourage it, so he smiles wider, encouragingly, before retreating to his laptop, burger forgotten beside him. 

An hour later, with no show of new clients, he tells Mob to go home. But even after the door closes, Reigen can’t escape that wide-eyed stare, that desperate gaze, where the ten-year-old boy places his trust in a stranger, fastening a rope between them both and never letting go.

That old pit is forming again at the base of his gut. He disregards it at hunger, and he eats the rest of his burger.

———

It’s been three months since that day they met at the consultation office. Roughly. Reigen hasn’t kept count, with the volume of clients growing and his schedule growing in tandem each week. He’s noticed that the seasons have changed, though, because Reigen doesn’t have to turn his air conditioner on nearly as often, and that cuts back on costs, which Reigen  always remembers. Mob comes in later in the afternoon, bundled in a scarf but otherwise as plain as the day Reigen met him. He says hello. Reigen replies with a wave of his hand, preoccupied with the emails left in his inbox. Regardless of the internet traffic, he’s made no new clients today, and he’s sporting a migraine. He barely notices Mob staring at him expectantly at his desk. 

“Nothing today, Mob,” Reigen grunts. “Feel free to… do your homework or something. Or leave.”  Without pay , Reigen adds. This migraine is making him particularly moody. 

Minutes pass, he thinks, as Reigen is staring blearily at his computer screen, an ache settling at the back of his eyes, scrolling up and down his read and replied files. He might have spaced out, or completely forgotten where he was, because he jumps slightly at the sound of paper sliding across his desk. He looks past his computer screen to see Mob’s eyes peek over the desk, through his mop of black hair, as a tiny hand pushes a sheet filled with scribbles toward him. Reigen picks it up and squints at it.

It’s a drawing. There’s lots of swirls — greens and blues and pinks — and shapes and a form that, after a bit of deliberation, looks like a man in a black-grey shirt with a thin wispy line of pink on his chest, with bright orange hair that’s fringed at every turn and a crooked smile in thick black crayon. Reigen looks to Mob for answers.

Mob looks embarrassed. “For you. We drew it in class.”  

And then there’s a light above his head. It’s an old, dusty light stolen from a hardware store, but it flickers to life over his head as Reigen stares at the page. The squiggly man is him, smiling in front of a crooked building with too many windows but with the sign — his sign — drawn squarely at the center of the building:  Spirts n Such Consoltashun. 

Something gets warm in his chest — something that replaces the black stewing pit — that makes him stare at the page for a moment longer. The warmth is not explosive — just a little ember, sitting at the center of his ribcage — but it’s enough for Reigen to know.

His do-not-care policy is quickly coming to an end.

--

He thanks Mob, of course, and tells him it looks great, even though, objectively, it doesn’t. Most ten-year-olds grow to draw more recognizable images, so if there was an art contest, Mob would most definitively be in last place. But he keeps it. He doesn’t know why, but when Mob leaves, Reigen searches for an empty manilla folder, digging through old cardboard boxes packed in the massage room, discarding less important paperwork — taxes, mostly — to find a somewhat fresh folder. Shaking off layers of dust from himself and his papers, he presses the drawing gently into the folder, repositioning the edges so it fits perfectly inside. It’s bright and colorful and so unlike the papers he’s read for years on end.

He stares at it for a long time.

—

It is not a one-time occurrence.

It happens infrequently, but Reigen knows when he’s about to get them. Mob walks into the office in a rush, both too slow and fast at the same time, shoulders hunched but eyes wide and clear, nibbling the bottom of his lip with nervous energy. He slips his backpack down, almost toppling his desk over, and then he opens it, the sound of paper crinkling as Mob ruins his homework but oh-so-carefully withdraws a new piece of art, this time with different colors, this time with different scenery. But the characters are always the same — him and Mob, sometimes lounging in the office, sometimes exorcising a spirit in a warehouse (he shouldn’t be concerned, but he hopes Mob’s teachers don’t talk amongst themselves about Mob’s new master and his continued encouragement of these macabre fantasies of spirits and demons). 

Each day Reigen thanks him for them and places them in his manilla folder, each pressed carefully over the other. He’s not sure what to do with them, so he keeps them there where they can’t be damaged by stray crumbs or toppled coffee. They stay in a cabinet next to his desk when they’re not lying on display on his desk, nestled between his lease paperwork and old client contacts. Sometimes, Reigen forgets about them completely.

Until, of course, the next drawing comes.

——

It’s sometime in winter when Reigen finally invites Mob to get ramen after work for the first time ever. It’s cold and dark and, even though there is no forecast for snow, the air smells just like the beginning of snowfall in Seasoning City, where the acrid smoke of the city clears into this sort of musky, oak-like smell. Reigen is tired and hungry and, when he looks at the clock on his phone, deliberates how exhausting it would be for him to stick a cup of noodles in the microwave and let it bake until his eyes start watering. He sighs and stares up at the night sky.

“Let’s get ramen.” 

Mob makes a noise beside him, something like cough or sneeze, and his eyebrows stretch skyward underneath his hair. “Really?” he asks. His tone reminds him of the first time Reigen gave him his pay. Reigen bites the inside of his cheek and finds it difficult to stare at Mob for longer than a second. 

“Yeah. I don’t want to cook anything in this weather. S’gonna be a long night, so might as well take a break while I can. Come on.”

He leads the kid to a ramen stall, where they greet the cook and settle in their seats. He orders for them both, with a decidedly smaller bowl for Mob. Mob continues thanking Reigen even when he tells him to stop, and by the fourth time, Reigen is getting annoyed.

“Oi, don’t expect me to make a habit of this. This is a one-time thing.  And this is coming out of your salary.”

Mob sobers after this and eats his ramen silently, but he still radiates this warmth that stays in Reigen’s chest for a long while, so faint and threadbare that he doesn’t even notice it until he opens the door to his apartment and is greeted by grey walls and papers strewn haphazardly over his couches, his year-old lights flickering their last sputters of light, and he realizes how good he felt in that ramen store, and how tired he feels in here.

Getting ramen does not stay a one-time thing.

——

It’s an off-day again. Reigen tells Mob to go home and then closes his office early, tucking old files below his armpit to take home with him. The weather is dark and gloomy that afternoon, which always raises people’s superstitions, which always lead to more clients, but apparently everyone is of clear mind today and hasn’t felt the need to call any psychics. Reigen can weather out the lax in calls, but he may be turning off his water for a while.

When he walks into his apartment, he scrubs the crust out of his eyes with the back of his palm, leaving his vision spotty, and he bumps into his kitchen counter. He stumbles and the files spill out from under his arm like a waterfall, and Reigen’s sigh echoes against the white tile. He bends down to pick up an unusually colorful paper.

He blinks. It’s a kid’s drawing, full of scribbles and squares, with a familiar man with orange hair and a pink tie grinning at him in thick black crayon. He looks to the rest of the spilled paperwork and sees those same familiar swirls of color. He must have accidentally added the manilla folder with his bills. 

He gently extracts each one from the ground, regards his kitchen counter with a frown, and scrubs a corner of it clean to rest the papers on. His bills he’s less gentle with, crinkling in his grip, and these he throws onto his couch to pool over after his shower. 

He doesn’t come up with his idea until after he’s out of the shower, towel over his shoulders, scrubbing at his still-wet hair and a toothbrush dangling in his mouth, and he walks back to the kitchen to stare at the blank surface of his refrigerator. The grey and orange and green is still bright at the corner of his eye. He huffs a breath of air out of his nose, a sort of “huh” noise that’s gargled by toothpaste, and realizes that he probably could have thought of this long ago. 

He tosses his towel to the side and starts rummaging through his kitchen drawers in search of magnets. 

The other papers lying on the couch are long forgotten.

--

“Shishou?”

Mob’s hand is still on the door handle when he stops in his tracks and stares at his master, who looks a little strange. He’s balancing at the top of his rolling chair, legs shakingly supporting the older man’s weight, as he’s pulling things from the wall and letting them fall onto the ground below. His suit jacket is discarded on his desk, and his tie is thrown over his shoulder. He looks especially sweaty up there. He also looks like he’s going to fall. 

Reigen glances over his shoulder, and the chair wobbles below him. “Oh! Mob. Good.” Reigen’s voice is strained, like he’s out of breath, and the mere act of swiveling his head around is using up too much energy. There are beads of sweat on his face. He motions Mob inside with a jerk of his head. “Help me out over here. Grab those posters on the floor and put them in the trash. Then grab my chair for me so I can get down.” 

Mob obediently enters, setting his backpack down next to his new desk — wooden and portable, something Reigen had bought at an online auction for less than a thousand yen, and so much better than the amalgamation of cardboard and wood and scratchy tablecloth — and goes to pick up the scraps of paper lying on the floor. They all look like posters of a younger Reigen, with his smile of too-many-teeth and flashy colors behind him. One looks out of place, of a man with black hair and a vacant gaze, with a name starting with “Mo” behind him. That one is torn. 

“Shishou, don’t you need these--?”

“Bah.” Reigen waves a hand. The chair gets even shakier. “Outdated. Don’t need them. Now hurry up, Mob. I’m gonna fall.” 

Mob rushes to throw the posters in the waste bin, which is too small and the paper scraps pool out around it. Then he rushes over to Reigen, who is huffing and puffing as though he ran several kilos, even though all he did was stand on a chair. Mob holds it steady as Reigen slowly crawls down. He radiates sweat, and when he tries to wipe his face, more sweat from his hand replaces it. 

“Good job,” Reigen pants. Mob stares at the torn posters.

“Why didn’t you just use your powers to take them down, Shishou?”

Reigen coughs and then barks out a laugh. “Oh, Mob,” he tuts. “There’s no need to use my powers for such trivial things. I can’t be reliant solely on the one thing I’m good at. Sometimes it’s good to be dependent on your own physical strength. Plus,” he coughs, “I just took down a major spirit this morning. I have to, ah, save up my remaining energy for later.”

Mob stares at his wise master and nods sagely. “Okay.” They both elect to stare at the wall which, in this case, is still not empty. “What’s that?” 

An empty cork board sits on the wall before them. It must have held the rest of Reigen’s old posters and advertisements, and now it’s completely bare. It makes the room feel a lot bigger. 

Reigen clasps a sweaty hand on Mob’s shoulder. “A client-satisfaction board, my apprentice. Here, we’ll fill it with photos taken with clients after our jobs. It gives future clients a piece of mind. A bit of security, knowing we do our job well.”

“Oh,” says Mob. He looks to his shoes and thinks. “But we don’t have any client-satisfaction pictures.”

“Not yet, Mob.” Reigen rummages under his jacket, which still lies on the desk, and pulls out what even Mob can recognize as a cheap plastic camera. “But we soon will. Here.” He spins the camera around to point at them and leans over to Mob, who stares unblinkingly at the camera lens. The device clicks, and Reigen spins it around to see the finished picture. All they see is a brown blur. 

“Ah,” Reigen grunts. “One more time.” They take another photo. They spin it around. This time, Mob can see both him and Reigen staring at the camera, Reigen with his hair stuck to his forehead and grin crooked, and Mob in midway blink. 

“Perfect,” Reigen says. He sets the camera down. “And one more thing.” 

He produces a folder from under his desk. It’s plain and tan and it looks like all the rest in Reigen’s office, but when he opens it, Mob can see some familiar scribbles. He cranes his head over the desk to see what Reigen’s doing with them, as the man pulls one, two, three from the pile and then rummages in a small box of thumbtacks. Reigen crosses the office and sticks the drawings crookedly on the corkboard, in a pattern that suggests he expects to put more photos around them, with wide space between each. They gleam in the afternoon sun, his drawings from school, that feature him and Reigen eating burgers in the office and exorcising spirits in the park. 

“There,” Reigen says, arms folded over his chest, satisfied. He glances over to Mob. “Look good?” 

The sun strikes the pictures just right, forcing Mob to squint at them as they make the office feel brighter. The little esper looks to his master, then to the corkboard, then to the folder that sits silently at the desk. After a long moment (and Reigen is starting to sweat again), he nods. He doesn’t even realize he’s smiling.

“Yeah,” Mob says, soft and quiet in the tiny Spirits and Such Consultation Office. “Looks good.”

--

In Reigen’s apartment, there are still papers strewn across the couch,  the walls are grey, and the air is stale and smells like old ramen. There are dirty dishes in the sink and the counter could use a good wipe, and Reigen forgot to turn off the air conditioner when he left for work. 

And in the kitchen, hanging on the refrigerator by half-faded blue and pink magnets, rustling in the still-running air conditioner, are five of Mob’s drawings, shining proudly in the dying sunlight.

[chimswae]

BTS Caretaker CH27

Summary: She may think she has Bangtan Sonyeondan wrapped around her fingers. She may think it is easy to love the members equally without hurting any soul. She may think the boys wont fall head over heels for her. She assumes it is okay to show a little love and affection towards the boys, what if she gets it all wrong? What if it only brings more complication to her already complicated life? Can she survive their charms? Will she be able to resist them? What if they just wont let her go?

- Pairing: BTS x Oc ( Yoongi x OC, Jungkook x OC)

- Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst, Romance, Idol!au

- Word Count: 4,798

- Author Note: Did u watch MAMA last night? Last week was so crazy i spent my 6 hours just like that for an award show. it is killing my back istg :< anyways, this chapter little emo, because look at our taetae expressing his worries on the group dyamic and friendship :(

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Chapter 27

That night the boys went straight back to their hotel rooms after attending the after party. They stayed for thirty minutes as a courtesy. It was awkward to stay longer since they were pretty much a newcomer in this award. Though Ansel Elgort and The Chainsmoker presence at the party helped to ease the awkwardness. Yet, it was evident they were not comfortable to be around the big names.  The number of the connections that they made were not enough to make them stay for the rest of the night. They agreed to attend the after party because of the food after all and of course to show their respect.

Nothing could beat their eagerness to do the usual Vlive. Billboard Awards was possible due to the unending supports from Armys. Something that they would cherish for the rest of their life. As soon as they ended their short Vlive, they celebrated their victory together with Bang PD and the rest of the staffs.

Even though everyone insisted Seul’s presence there, but she knew her place. She did nothing to contribute to their winning, so she rejected their offer politely and chose to stay in her room instead. She was not tempted to be in the same room as them tonight, as Seul respected their privacy.

It was way past midnight, yet she didn’t see any sign of Semmy returning to the room. Tired of waiting, she called it a day and getting ready to hit the sack.  She tied her hair into ponytail after pampering her skin.

The sound of bell brought her attention to the door and she strutted to open it “Unnie-“her smile was replaced with a baffle look “What are you doing here?” she sent the latter a questionable look.

Yoongi hummed softly, holding the plastic bag up “I brought drinks, care to have some with me?” Seul was weirded out by his randomness.

“Don’t you have enough drinks today? I thought you guys were celebrating in your room” she held onto the door, showing no sign of letting the rapper inside. Not to be rude, Seul was being careful with her surrounding and the fact that she shared her room with Semmy feared her. What if someone caught them together? It would spark an unnecessary gossip among the staffs.

He ran his tongue over his lips, slipping one of his hand against the door “We have called it a night. I didn’t drink. I am saving it for you” his sinful lips twisted into a smirk. What a sore to her eyes.

“I..don’t drink alcohol though, I have zero tolerance on it. So, care to find someone else to drink those with you? I am sorry” she was about to shut the door, but he held it back chuckling softly.

“Who told you that I brought alcohol? I bring cokes and chips. You have been avoiding me these past few days, lets have a decent talk. Shall we?” Yoongi’s eyes sparked in the sexiest way. Seul could not say no to that though her mind was having a fit for letting the guy inside. The second she realized, Min Yoongi had made himself comfortable on the queen bed, with his legs crossed.

Seul emitted a soft sigh, closing the door behind her “Min Yoongi, why are you here? If there is one person that I shouldn’t trust in this world, then it would be you” she stood in front of him looking all defensive. To be frank, Min Yoongi did nothing that could harm her. It was her personal issues with her own feeling, to be exact her raging hormones. She couldn’t trust herself around him at all.

Her mind seemed to have the mind of its own. It reacted against her consciences even though she was aware of its consequences on her, she would still do it nonetheless. Ironically, only Min Yoongi had that effect on her.

He looked calm and oddly serious today. Did the winning affect his wrecked brain? Yoongi patted the empty seat beside him, motioning Seul to fill it. The girl’s response made him to roll his eyes in his seat, with that he pulled the overreacting girl beside him.

Seul let out a small gasp, shifting uncomfortably “What are you planning to say? Don’t….do something funny…” she said nervously while making a small space between them.  

He frowned “I will only do something funny after I make sure I talk this out with you first” teasing the flustered girl, he held back his chuckle upon witnessing her distressed face. Seul might appear all sassy on the outside but her demeanour could be unpredictable from time to time. Where’s the consistency, Ji Seul.

“Okay speak” Seul pressed her lips together while fiddling with the hem of her shirt. She’s honestly afraid of what might come from Yoongi. Serious Yoongi was not her thing, so she had no idea what to expect from the older guy.

Yoongi passed the cold can to her which she gladly took it. Their fingers brush against each other jolting Seul in her seat. She coughed away the awkwardness, quickly open the drinks and took a long sip from it.

Amused, he studied Seul closely “Why are you so jumpy Seul?” he bit his lower lips with a hidden smile. It made him feel superior to know he’s the reason why she had been acting this way. There was a hope in this relationship after all.

He took a small sip from his drink and expelled a long endearing sigh. It caught Seul’s attention right away and she gathered her courage to say something “Are… you alright? Something is bothering you?” her soft voice was oh-so-soothing in his ears.

“Yes. It is you who has been bothering me” Yoongi played with the sheets beneath him.

“Yoongs..I have no idea what you are about to say but I think I kinda know where this conversation will lead us” she set the drink down on the other side and collected her knees to her chest. Seul was about to prepare her heart just in case this conversation might be the cause of her misery or happiness, whichever it was, Seul had to face it.

Yoongi smiled meekly, “Will you listen to me until I am done?” his voice was soft and husky travel through the ice-cold air. He seemed to be steeling so Seul nodded in assurance. She didn’t want him to think she’s being selfless, so she responded quickly “I want to hear all of it. Tell me” she whispered under her calm breathing.

“I apologize for acting rashly around you. I feel deeply bad. I didn’t mean to disrespect you as a woman. In fact, I do see you as a woman. I want to keep you safe and not to be the cause of your misery. It is crazy how it is hard for me to finally be truthful to myself. I am not good with words. I have no idea how to act around you, to treat you like the way you deserve. I always thought giving into my feelings will weaken me. I end up treating you like some kind of pushover” Seul listened to every word attentively. Sometimes she would be in daze trying to digest Yoongi’s real intention and sincerity.

He took a long pause before continue “ There are a lot of people walking around feeling not the slightest bit of guilty for how they treat others. I thought if I acted the same way it would free me from the problem occur surround me. Some people convinced themselves that they are not responsible for someone else’s feelings. All these years, I learned how to endure it and pretend everything is okay when it is not. I thought when it came to myself, I only had to be selfish. I never consider your feelings and let my emotion cloud my judgement” Seul squeezed her eyes feeling her head pounded over Yoongi’s complicated way of explaining things. It was not her first time to hear such flowery and complicated stuffs coming from him.

“Yoongi, I am sorry.. What is your point? I am a little lost here” her nose scrunched up in confusion.

“Ugh, fuck. Sorry, I really am bad in this. What I am trying to say is..this thing between us is not a joke. I mean when I treated you badly, I meant to make you understand something. FUCK! WHY IS THIS SO HARD” he facepalmed, rubbing his hair roughly with a small grunt.

She reached out to his arm, giving it a soft pat “Calm down, you really need to get to the point. Or I am kicking you out from my room.” she joked only to annoy the wretched man even more. Yoongi shot her a disbelief look while she kept her face straight playing innocent.

“You are impossible” he flashed his dissatisfied smile earning a soft giggle from the playful Seul. She had never acted this comfortable around him, so that was first. Yoongi then returned to compose himself forcing words out from his cold lips.

He almost lost his grip on the can as he noticed the girl’s attention was on him. She was looking at his away adoring his every action as if she’s the girlfriend. Her cheek was rested at the top of her knees, while her lips pursed cutely into a pout. Yoongi cussed in his head loathing this image in front of him. Why must this girl make things harder for him?

“Are you going to make me wait Min?” said Seul in annoyance.

“Alright, listen here. I have a romantic feeling for you! Don’t ask me when it starts, because I can’t really recall. Remember the kisses that I stole from you! It was my way to confirm my feelings for you until you confront me that day. I wasn’t prepared, so I had no answers with me. I REALLY TRIED TO RESTRAIN MYSELF FROM HAVING SOME ROMANTIC THOUGHTS WHEN IT COMES TO YOU! Ugh, hell I tried hard, but it failed me. You are the cause to my sleepless night” Yoongi let out all the frustration bottled up inside him at once leaving the poor girl speechless.

Seul’s brows furrowed, her eyes still soft as she scrutinized Yoongi’s expression seeking for truthfulness and she found it. His eyes flickered in an unexplainable glint and sincerity. “That sounds really awful” she cringed with her chin still resting on her knees.

His eyes instantly enlarged upon hearing Seul’s response “WHICH ONE SOUNDS AWFUL?” he looked disturbed considering he had poured all his heart to this so-called confession only to be look down by the girl that he loved was rather appalling. Bad sign.

“That part where you blame me for your sleepless night. I didn’t ask you think of me before you sleep Min Yoongi!” she let out a soft huff, looking straight into his eyes. “You are cute” she complimented before the guy could reply her earlier protest.

Yoongi shifted shyly in his seat, coughing the heavy lump on his throat “So…am I answering your questions? The kisses were genuine. I did it because I wanted to. I..have feelings for you” he hesitated to indicate he likes her openly so he decided to hint something in hope the girl got the message.

“A romantic one!” he added with a soft blush crept on his pale skin.

He heard the girl expelled a deep sigh “Is it hard for you to say that you like me Yoongi. You really sass till the end. I am impressed” she shook her head in amusement.

“I don’t say romantic thing”

“But you did give me a long ass explanation that had nothing to do with your actual agenda of meeting me tonight. You.. are annoying” she cringed once again.

Yoongi turned to face Seul, taking her cheeks in his large hands causing the girl to squeal softly at the contact “I. LIKE. YOU” he confessed.

Seul stared at him without blinking, seemingly without breathing for another long moment. Shock rushed through her. The whole system in her body had momentarily paused working. She had gone past the pale stage and she looked grey.

“Seul…” he squeezed her cheeks giving a little life to that pale cheeks.

“I said.. I like you” his deep voice and his soft touch brought her back to the world. She looked daggers at him whilst he had the gleam in his eyes. “Yoongi..you only drink cokes. Are you drunk?” the confident Seul was long gone. If earlier she teased him for his incoherent words, now when Yoongi had make everything clear to her face, she was losing it.

Was it this thing that she hoped from him all this time?

She had no idea what to feel or how to reach at the moment. The images of Jungkook and Jimin face came flashed in her mind’s eye. Her face contorted in pure confusion.

Chuckling lowly, he stroked her bangs aside “Where is the confident Seul? I thought you wanted to hear me say it clearly” her shoulder slumped, and her eyes fill with tears. Screw her unstable emotion.

“Why are you making it hard for me? Jungkook, Jimin and now you are saying the same thing. It is not like I am living the happiest life on planet. Why…Yoongi. Not you too” she leaned his head against his shoulder, battling with her own tears.

It was too overwhelming for her weak heart. She didn’t want to appear in front of others. Not when Yoongi was the one who in front of her. Why her life got to be complicated? She got the signal from Yoongi all this time, yet she tried to shrug it off and played it cool until Yoongi decided to make a move tonight.

This was a real mess. She’s in the middle of figuring her own feelings for Jimin and Jungkook. Hence, to add Yoongi into the picture was a little overbearing.

“Seul-ya..I am sorry if..this is too much for you. Fuck, this was a mistake. I shouldn’t have said it at first place. I will just go.. Just forget about this” he mumbled in guilt, lifting the girl head up getting ready to leave the room.

Seul’s heart clenched in pain, grabbing his arm holding him back “Yoongi..Thank you” she threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace. “But-“ she silenced the man with a soft peck on his lips.

“That is for liking me”

 -------------------------

Everything changed ever since Yoongi decided to embrace his feelings for Seul. He told no one about his feelings knowing the youngest members in the group had explicitly told them about their healthy fight in winning Seul’s heart. Yoongi on the other hand will do it his own way.

No one should know how he felt for Seul. He didn’t want things to get even complicated than they already were. Therefore, he chose to seal his mouth. Yoongi treated Seul like he usually did, bickering with her when he had the chance or spouting some nonsense just to irk the girl.

The things with Hoseok after his panic attack incident, the sunshine ball played it cool. He tried not to think about it too much afraid that he ended up like Jimin and Jungkook. Fighting for the same girl with his best friend was definitely not in his dictionary. Taehyung who had been oblivious over Yoongi’s action around Seul knew something was off between the two. Sometimes he would catch them exchanged a playful glance like they were secretly dating.

Taehyung believed the older guy had a feeling for Seul and for some reason it upset him. Seul caused no harms to the boys’ career however it ticked him off when the members started to see her more than just a friend, one by one. Not to poke his nose into someone else business, yet he felt threatened by her presence. It seemed like sooner or later Seul would hurt the band as whole.

That careless mistake that she committed by allowing the members to like her in such way was not a good idea. He loathed it to the core. With Jungkook and Jimin chasing after her, god knows what else could happen if the boys had enough and decided to fight each other.

This issue circulated around them made him feel sick in the stomach. He used to have a little crush on Seul now only anger took over the flowery feelings. Taehyung wondered if he hated the fact that Seul’s presence might risk their friendship or was it due to his failure to be in Seul’s side?

“Tae…Did you hear me?” Seul called out once again hoping to get his attention.

He turned to Seul with a stern look “What do you want now?” he snapped.

Seul blinked feeling offended by his action but quick to shrug it off “I am asking for your dirty laundry because I wanted to clean along with others” she said timidly. Ever since they came back from Las Vegas three weeks ago, Taehyung had been given her a cold shoulder. He didn’t even dare to look her into the eyes and every time she tried to spark a conversation with him, he would either snap at her right way or just give a silent treatment.

It would be a lie if the change of his demeanour didn’t hurt her even a bit. She always finds Taehyung is the most comfortable one to talk with after Jin.

“I told you I will do it by myself. Leave me alone” he returned his attention back to his phone feeling slightly guilty to treat the innocent girl this way.

Seul didn’t budge and mustered her courage to inquire him “Tae did I do something to annoy you?” Taehyung was infuriated by the questions.

He scoffed in disbelief “Playing innocent, aren’t we? Why do you think I am acting this way?” he asked back with a sharp glare. She felt small under his scrutiny “You tell me” she murmured silently.

“Can’t you just fuck off?” Kim Taehyung who never ever used harsh words around others especially her was asking her to fuck off and it pained her. “Seeing your face makes me sick, just fuck off Seul. I am not in the mood to entertain you” once again he snarled making Seul’s eyes watered in process.

Taehyung glanced at the flustered girl and the guilt eating him up.

He didn’t know why was he acting bratty and rude towards her lately but it was just him feeling a little off about the idea of Jimin and Jungkook liking Seul. Some more, his friends willing to sacrifice their feelings for the sake of Seul. They had never let anything go in between their friendship. Seul’s existence in their life seemed to bring more negativity.

First, Jungkook and Jimin friendship was at stake. What would happen if Seul make a choice in the future? Yes, they could live their present now acting like nothing happened. The happiness didn’t last long. The more they let themselves fall for Seul, the more painful for them. One of them had to suffer in the end.  He pondered upon this and as much as he hated to see the bad things in Seul, yet it couldn’t stop him. Taehyung barely knew Seul, looking after her feelings was not in his priority list. He cared for Jungkook and Jimin wellbeing after all this over.

Secondly, Yoongi, the older man that never let anything came in between his work and BTS slowly wavered because of Seul. He looked a bit distorted when he first came to know Seul. Yoongi was ten times grumpier than usual and everything surround him seemed to tick him off most of the time. The older guy would never show his true self let alone express himself aloud, but with Seul’s presence he’s willing to risk BTS and his loyalty towards the member to be with this girl. Despicable, indeed.

Blinking her tears away, she expelled a soft sigh with a quick apologize before leaving the room. She shrugged off the bad thought in her assuming Taehyung was stressing out due to their hectic schedule. That must be it, Seul assured herself.

 ----------------

Jin offered to cook for dinner and insisted Seul to stay since it was her off day. She was still bitter over Taehyung’s behaviour earlier, but she stayed for Jin anyways. The older guy would not let her return with empty stomach.

Everyone had gathered at the round table for dinner including the grumpy Taehyung after much effort in persuading him to eat, he finally showed up. He took a seat across Seul with a gloomy face, sending a quick glance at her way. The look that only Seul could understand. The tense in the room was driving her nuts.

Seul felt extremely uncomfortable and anxious throughout the dinner though she was trying to blend with their jokes but every time she felt Taehyung’s hard gaze on her, her body tensed. Jungkook who sat at the end of the table noticed her discomfort and he kept his eyes on her for the rest of the dinner.

“ Seul are you available this Tuesday?” Namjoon smiled.

Seul shook her head “I am not sure about that why?” Taehyung was eyeing their leader deeply. He knew what he’s planning to do. This upcoming Tuesday would be BTS 4th Year Anniversary and they would hold a home party with Armys.

“Since you haven’t gotten the chance to attend our concert, attend BTS Home Party this Tuesday then. We will be holding our anniversary party with Armys. It will be fun!” he said gleefully while others nodding in agreement exclude Taehyung.

She was burdened by the request, so she didn’t know how to respond to that “I will see if I can go. I have a lot to cover at work”

“She is not a fan, why are we celebrating it with her?” Taehyung statement caused everyone to snap their head towards him in bafflement. Her breath hitched at Taehyung’s remark as she forced a smile on her face “I don’t think I deserve to be in that party. I am nowhere near to be called as your fans. I barely supported you guys through all those years. Tae is right though” she rubbed her sweaty palms against her jeans.

Taehyung smug sarcastically “Right. She is nowhere close to be called as our fans. We celebrate our anniversary with people who are worth to be called fans and those who have become our backbones throughout those rough years. Seul isn’t one of them. She is here when we already make name for ourselves” he exclaimed without caring the daggers being thrown at him from every corner.

“Taehyung, I think you are a little rude to-“

“I don’t think any such thing, because I don’t let my feelings cloud my judgement. I am stating the fact. She is nobody, so she doesn’t deserve to be in those important occasion.” Taehyung cut Jimin’s words before the guy could even finish his words.

Brimming with tears, Seul clenched her fist under the table holding back the pain in her heart. That was by far the most hurtful thing that people ever said to her after the disappearance of her father. A gush of impossible memories that she long forgotten came into her mind again.

 “Why are you doing this to me…”

“Because you are nobody”

“You are our father”

“I am Hoon’s father not yours. You are a child born out of wedlock. For years, I was fooled by your slut mother. I am raising someone’s else child and she turned me into a fucking clown. You are nothing but trouble. You are nobody Seul. You are not my daughter.”

 She opened her eyes, shocked to find her cheeks wet with tears. The horrible memories of her past were very vague, something she couldn’t quite place. All she knew, it was vey messy that day. She never wished to discover the truth, yet it happened anyways. Just like that she had to live with the horrible truth haunting her every night.

“Taehyung watch your word” Yoongi hissed, glowering at the younger guy.

“Oh, now everyone is defending her. I wonder how she screwed up your brain, when thing isn’t this way before she comes into the picture. You guys are being blinded by her gracefulness and fake affection” Taehyung continued to stir the already tense atmosphere in the room.

Namjoon palmed the table with a soft thud “Enough Tae! What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you attacking her?” he breathed calming down his anger. He didn’t to start any fight in the room knowing Taehyung would not act this bratty without a reason. Hell, Taehyung had never acted this way with them before.

“Don’t ask me. Ask her. She is the problem. We need to get rid of her before things get out of hand. We don’t need a bitch in our life. We were doing just fine without her before now why are we acting as if our life depended on her. Pathetic isn’t it?” suddenly a pair of hands grabbing his collar and yanking him around.

He pinned the boy against the wall harshly, glaring furiously “SAY THAT AGAIN KIM TAEHYUNG OR I WILL FUCKING PUNCH YOUR PRETTY FACE” Taehyung chuckled coldly, meeting the older guy’s intense eyes.

Gasps could be heard across the room as everyone stood on their feet witnessing the horrible scene in front of them. Seul was weeping openly now, her bottom lips quivered as tears cascaded down wetting her cheeks

“I knew it. I knew it since start that one-day Seul will jeopardize our friendship. Look at you hyung, you are willing to kill your own bandmates that you’ve known for years to defend a bitch whom you barely knew” clenching his teeth together, Yoongi curled up his fist into a ball. As he about to throw a punch, a small hand put a halt to his action.

Yoongi grunted under his sharp breath, yanking his arm but Seul used all the strength that she had left to stop him “Stop.. He is your brother, Yoongi” his eyes met her red eyes. Seeing Seul in that mess pained him, and with a loud groan he released Taehyung.

Taehyung flicked his tongue out of annoyance, averting Seul’s gaze “I am sorry Tae. You are right, I am nobody. This was a mistake. I am sorry that I am hurting your friendship. I was being too comfortable when I should have known my place..” she choked back her own tears. There were a lot of things she planned to say but the words were stuck in her throat “I can’t do this..” she grabbed her belongings from the living room and made her way to the entrance.

“Fuck great” Jin rubbed his back hair in frustration. He called after Seul after watching her leaving hurriedly but only to be ignored completely by her.

Jungkook and Jimin who stood frozen now were making their move upon realizing her absence in the room. The younger guy grabbed her wrist to stop her from moving “Seul-ah..dont leave.. let’s talk about this” he looked at her sadly.

She could not stop the tears from flowing looking all pathetic in front of them “I..am..s-orry Jungkook.. I cant do this anymore..Stay with Tae, he needs you guys” she pulled her hand from his strong grasp, exiting the house without looking back.

Taehyung ran fingers in his hair, slumped down on the couch with deep a sigh. He was torn in between his own insecurity and worries and ended up hurting Seul in process. What did he do to himself and Seul?

Jimin confronted his best friend with a deep frown “Taehyung.. what happen to you? What was that for? Why are you saying those hurtful things to Seul?” he tried to reason and sat down on the coffee table facing him.

“So will know her place. She doesn’t belong here. Not beside us” he murmured lowly.

Hoseok shook his head showing his disapproval “This is not you Tae. We are friends for years. You won’t be acting this way without a reason. What is bothering you?” even the cheerful Hoseok looked miserable from the fight that just broke between Taehyung and Yoongi.

Namjoon and Yoongi were long gone inside the room, probably the leader trying to reason with the hot-tempered man and talk it out with him without hurting the group in process. That was the best they could do until Taehyung decided to open his mouth to speak the truth.

 This work belongs to  Chimswae © 2020. All Rights Reserved

[murderluv23]

Piano Demon Headcanons (4)

Blitz sometimes has to tail behind him due to business. The others join as well but mostly it's just him.

Yeah, he totally isn't constantly on the verge of a nervous breakdown at all. Nope! Right as rain!

Definitely doesn't feel like he's always walking on pins and needles with whatever he says or does. No siree!

Typically he's there if The Piano Demon wants a quick trip to the living world and plans to take Blitz with him. No one has any idea what the reindeer does or why he insists on taking Blitz but they're too scared to ask, especially Blitz himself.

Other times it's to ward off pesky demons in his vacinity. The Piano Demon doesn't care much for having claimed territories around Hell so he'll have Blitz and his workers take care of any nuisances. He equips them with angel weapons but orders only to use them for warnings unless the situation is dire. He may also ask Blitz to do this as a protective measure for Alastor in particular if it's important to him.

Not that he needs it. But Blitz keeps his mouth shut.

As a result, Blitz ends up spending a good chunk of his time with the two Overlords. Sometimes he'll be left alone with Alastor, other times the two are going on a walk when they aren't busy. Blitz will post to his social media as a way to cope with the intense atomosphere that comes from being around them.

At times he'll include Alastor in his high jinks.

Alastor is not amused.

The Piano Demon is actually a very considerate and rational boss. Blitz can't even recall a time he's yelled at him. Overall very mannered and kind, doesn't talk down to him.

He might scold him over the phone for fooling around on social media too often or causing Alastor trouble. But he never raises his voice. Ultimately doesn't try to restrict what he chooses to do unless it conflicts with a schedule or distracts him from something. Otherwise he's allowed to do what he wants.

It may sound weird but that's where most of Blitz's fear of the guy comes from. It is so hard to tell what he's thinking and what sets him off. He's so eerily calm and soft spoken. For all he knows, he could say or do one wrong thing and it could mean literal Hell for him. The anticipation drives him up the wall!

Rosie will sometimes place her hat on the reindeer's head from behind as a way to say hello and tease him.

"Good evening to you as well, Rosie."

Rosie always giggles at his monotone response, "That's a good look for you, love."

"I appreciate the compliment. Now take it off."

Rosie tends to act a bit motherly towards him. Knowing from the things Alastor has told her, he has a bad habit of focusing all his attention towards his piano practice to the point of self neglect.

"Did you get a good night's rest, dear?"

"I just need to finish this sheet-"

"Go lay down."

"Rosie, I am not a child. I can decide for myself-"

"Go lay down."

The Piano Demon will often ignore her until she leaves. That doesn't mean she won't pester him about other things, though. She might bring in some food for him to make sure he eats.

"I can decide for myself when-"

"Hush and adjust your mask."

He's very good at cleaning himself, believe it or not. He can't stand sitting around without bathing at least once a day. It's the one thing he gets up for on a regular basis. It's why he always looks so well groomed and dressed despite the hours he spends glued to his piano.

A common compliment he gets is how good he smells all the time. Alastor is no exception.

(Heard it was canon that Alastor doesn't shower and if that is indeed the case):

The Piano Demon will not stand for this incompentence. There is a lot of things he will tolerate with Alastor but terrible hygiene is not one of them.

Alastor will be taken in kicking and screaming as he forces him into the bath and begins scrubbing away. He'll have to use some of his powers to keep The Radio Demon from springing out of the bath and running.

He doubles down on shampoo. No, just no. Clean hair will be a thing even if he has to battle all of Hell and Heaven for it.

You know Alastor has the boundary concerning his ears so you can imagine how fussy he is during this particular part.

Let's not forget his teeth. Oh, dear. If this was anyone else, Alastor would've bitten their hands off for even attempting to do this. 

But yeah, the reindeer shows no mercy in getting every nook and cranny of his mouth squeaky clean. You should see how fast The Piano Demon's arms move while brushing them. It's insane.

Alastor's clothes? Yeah, no. They're getting incinerated. They're gone.

He'll create a fresh pair for him. He knows Alastor will take it because he made them. (Yes from scratch. He's good at it.)

Alastor is always grumpy after being washed and will glare at him the whole time while being dried off. He'll sit still as he grabs the hair dryer and brush since he actually enjoys that part. He can do without the noise, though.

The Piano Demon will have him switch to pajamas and sit on the bed after he's done.

He will then grab something for his nails. Yup, they're doing those, too. He may not like "glowing" his own up himself but he's learned a lot from watching Stolas during their sleepovers. He doesn't really need it himself. (Because he regurarly cares for them already, hint hint.)

Alastor will grumble things under his breath as he gets to work but ultimately just waits for it to be over.

This will have Alastor be held accountable every time after the fact.

Alastor wants to lean on his shoulder or wants any form of contact?

"Did you clean yourself today?"

"........"

He walks away.

"Darling, wait!"

"I will not so much as hold your hand until you've showered."

Yeah, let's just say forced bathing is common for Alastor.

However, being able to hold his beloved at all is a great motivator for him to take intiative and do it himself. Occasionally. 

Usually after three weeks of zero physical affection.

Other than that it's up to The Piano Demon to drag him into the bathroom.

"Bitch DISGUSTANG!!!!" - Angel Dust, after learning this fact about Alastor.

You know Angel is going to make snide remarks to him about it now. For example: The group is out on a task and hears an unholy screech in the distance?

"Damn. What the fuck was that? Sounds like Alastor during bath time."

"I highly suggest you sleep with one eye open tonight, my good fellow."

The Piano Demon is known to sleep in odd places. People are baffled by how he seems to just pop up in random places, fast asleep. He could go unnoticed for hours until someone jumps up and points out his unconcious body, wondering how long he's been there.

He doesn't snore at all.

Sometimes Alastor will be looking for him, lift his grand piano, and find him laying blissfully inside of it. The Radio Demon will smile and close it back so not to disturb him.

"Hey, Al, can you-"

"Quiet, my beloved is sleeping." Alastor will snap at the person, carressing the piano tenderly.

Everyone is thoroughly confused.

Like I said, the reindeer rarely sleeps so Alastor is ready to brutally torture anyone that causes him distress.

The Piano Demon hates children.

He would not be cruel to one if he ever encounters them. 

But he would keep his distance and wouldn't feel anything for them.