#though I’m realizing the easiest solution would probably just be to ask her

[quibbs126]

Alright, this might take some explaining, but basically this is just like an idea for an au I had based on my friend’s description of the premise of a show she and her mom are watching that I just decided I need to cross over with Cookie Run. Also I liked the premise

I’ll give you the rundown of what she told me right quick. Oh, also disclaimer, I don’t actually know what the show is called, nor do I know the names of any of the characters, since she didn’t tell me, as well as I believe the fact that she didn’t know how to translate the names into English

So basically, our main character is this prince who got exiled from his kingdom for being part of a rebellion. On his way leaving the kingdom, he gets accosted and loses all his magical items (I’m guessing the kingdom was either magic or divine in some way, I don’t remember if she explained), and basically is now stuck at the level of a normal person. So the prince ends up opening an inn in the mountains. Business isn’t the best but he’s getting by. Anyways, one day, a group of thugs comes in and basically demands the prince (he’s hiding his identity so no one knows he’s a prince and think he’s a regular dude, but I don’t know his name, so I’m calling just him that) lets them stay in his rooms, feed them breakfast (and I assume dinner) and basically do their bidding or they take him out. The prince says something along the lines of “you aren’t even worth a single thread on my jacket” and basically refuses. The thugs attack but it just so happens another traveler was at the inn at the time, and they use their martial arts to take out all the thugs, though in the process the inn gets destroyed. The traveler basically says their work here is done, but the prince is like “um no, you destroyed my inn! I can’t pay to have all this repaired, I don’t have that kind of money! You gotta pay for all of this!”. Now see, the traveler is going to this special tower (I think there might have been a tournament there?) which has something at the end of it. We don’t know what the traveler wants from the tower, but they want something. The traveler says to the prince that they’re going to this tower for a tournament and there will be a monetary reward, and once they win they’ll pay the prince back. The prince decides that they’ll go along, saying it’s to make sure they’ll actually keep their word and not run out on their debt (though my friend said that the traveler’s martial art school was known to be reliable and trustworthy, so he could trust them, it was for some other reason that they decided to join that I can’t remember). So yeah, the two set out towards this tower

And so yeah, in my brain as she was explaining this, I was connecting this to Dark Choco, and here we are. So in this au, Dark Choco takes the role of the prince (unsurprisingly), where after his banishment and losing all his stuff (I’m assuming that includes the Strawberry Jam Sword), he sets up an inn somewhere and one day meets a traveler by the name of Peach Cookie, and after an altercation that leaves his inn trashed, Peach promises to pay him back with money from this tournament at a tower (the only tower I know is the Tower of Frozen Waves, so maybe it’s there? But I don’t know much about that tower either), and Dark Choco, a bit suspicious, goes along with her, and they’re off on an adventure together towards this tower

Oh, or maybe this tournament has to do with that competition mentioned in Tiger Lily’s Golden Warrior costume? The one about the Temple in the Sky? Maybe it could be that instead, so it ties in more with actual Cookie Run stuff

Oh and as for the designs, I just wanted them to wear less conspicuous things (also Dark Choco might have lost his armor so he just has regular clothes), since I imagine they’re trying to keep a low profile. But maybe I should have drawn Peach Cookie in her normal outfit, that probably still would have worked. Unless au things change her backstory or something, I haven’t worked it out

I don’t know where this would go, but I thought the premise was neat and wanted to draw it. Also I just kind of want to see these two interact

Anyways yeah, I hope you enjoy the idea at least, even if there’s not much to look at

Edit: The show is called The Blood of Youth

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 306: the beginning of the WHAT

Previously on BnHA: Nana and the Gang were all, “hey Deku, we can read your thoughts and feelings so we should already know the answer to this, but for some reason we want to quiz you on whether or not you’d be down to kill Shigaraki Tomura.” Deku was all, “um okay, well tbh, probably not seeing as Saving People has been my entire thing since literally the start of the series.” The Vestiges were all, “yes that makes perfect sense and again we already knew that, but well, good for you buddy and I’m glad we had this talk. Anyway I guess we should ask these two cryptic fuckers in the corner to finally turn around now before we run out of -- ” and then the chapter ended. Because OF COURSE IT DID.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “YOU DON’T NEED TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT, WOULDN’T IT BE SO MUCH BETTER IF I GAVE YOU A CONFUSING CHAPTER WHERE EVERYONE FINALLY LEARNS ABOUT OFA, AND GOES BACK TO THE DORMS, AND THEN THE CHAPTER ENDS WITH DEPRESSED NOMAD DEKU STANDING ON A PRECIPICE WITH GRAN TORINO’S TATTERED CAPE FLOWING IN THE WIND.” Everyone is all, “???????????” Horikoshi is all, “also the parents are moving to the U.A. campus, and Jeanist’s neck is two and a half feet long, for everyone that was wondering.” Everyone is all, “WHERE ARE KACCHAN AND TODOROKI AND FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WHO ARE THE SECOND AND THIRD USERS”, and Horikoshi is all, “:)” and fades away into nothingness like the fucking fae he is. Like a fucking imp who’s kept his end of the cursed bargain. What, the, fuck.

okay guys, so after the longest Thursday of my fucking life, during which I was secretly hoping that my spoiler containment net would be somehow be breached, inadvertently exposing me to theta spoiler radiation, so that I could be all “oh no... spoilers... there’s nothing I can do... I have no choice but to look” (which sadly did not happen), it is finally Friday and the chapter is finally out. so I’ve got my clown kit at the ready and other self-deprecating memes on standby, and I’m ready to go. and I should note that I’m also ready for Horikoshi to pull some absolute bullshit and be like, “oh you know what, we haven’t checked in with Rat Principal in a while have we” and spend the entire chapter on nonsense like that. I’M READY FOR FUCKING ANYTHING so bring it

(ETA: it would be nice if this man wouldn’t call my bluff every now and again.)

oh, right, we were due a color page! wow look at this

isn’t this supposed to be the future?? what’s with all of these staticky CRT TVs

anyway, so! is this the first time we’ve seen Tomura’s stylish finger prosthetic glove thingy in color?? because I didn’t expect it to be red. also, at some point you just have to give in and change your pants into cutoffs or something, Tomura. start a new trend of stylish villain capris

meanwhile Deku is dressed like he’s going on a journey into the desert to find a mystical oasis. actually this cape looks a lot like Gran Torino’s. I have to go back and see if Gran’s is all raggedy like this

(ETA: it wasn’t before but APPARENTLY IT IS NOW. I also forgot that Horikoshi had showed it sitting on a side table in the hospital a few chapters ago.)

lastly, AFO looks like someone’s thumb after they’ve been washing dishes for twenty minutes. you are just the ugliest dude in history, and as always, fuck you

HAHAHA SOB I KNEW IT

oh, Twowy McTwoface is finally starting to turn around? better CUT BACK TO DEKU’S HOSPITAL ROOM THEN. wouldn’t want to accidentally ANSWER ANY QUESTIONS or SOLVE ANY MYSTERIES, god forbid

well, whatever. whatever!! anyway so now someone’s knocking at the door. I say “someone” but we all know it’s Hawks

yep

they were actually standing outside the door for a while hoping they’d overhear another juicy plot conversation, but no such luck this time

lmaooo Jeanist wtf

acting all embarrassed, but you’re really just as curious as Hawks is. making him do all the dirty work for you huh

ARE YOU SERIOUS THIS IS AN INJUSTICE

so like two seconds after Katsuki gets dragged away you open the door for the rest of them!! well, fine!! I really want it to be a more private/personal moment between the two of them anyway so let the other kids check in on Deku first then

and in the meantime, time to see Hawks put the thumbscrews to All Might’s resolve lol

I wonder how much of it Hawks has already put together in the last five minutes. One for All is something connected to All for One that Tomura seems to want. Tomura was apparently targeting Deku. that’s more than enough to make a few deductions right there. I wonder how much Hawks knows about Deku’s quirk. he did watch the sports festival, and he ran into the kids interning under Endeavor that one time

okay well maybe he hasn’t put the rest of it together just yet, but Hawks is making a pretty reasonable pitch here to All Might

also this is a pretty spectacular view. is this a hospital or a hotel??

AHLKJLKJLKJ ARE YOU SERIOUSLY GOING TO TELL THEM

OH MY GOD HE IS?!?!

JUST LIKE WE ALL EXPECTED, THE NEXT TWO PEOPLE TO LEARN THE TRUTH ABOUT OFA ARE GOING TO BE HAWKS, AND BEST FUCKING JEANIST

-- LFKLKKLDK ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS. ARE YOU --

( •̀_•́ )

[sitting cross-legged on the ground pulling up little clumps of grass and letting them fall from my fingers one by one] yeah. sure. okay. fine. sure

-- OKAY, NO. NUH-UH. NO

everybody better hold tight cuz I’m about to pick up this whole chapter and yeet it into the ocean like a fucking frisbee lol

HORIKOSHI I DON’T CARE ABOUT THESE PEOPLE SITTING HERE WATCHING TV WTF

-- OH

well okay then. proceed. though lord help me if they’re about to reveal the secret of OFA to the whole fucking world skdkj

oh snap

well, there it is. pretty much what I expected, but it’s good to actually get to see this moment with him taking responsibility

though at the same time, thank you Horikoshi for not forcing us to sit through the rest of that

their fucking faces omg. okay but seriously, what nation doesn’t secretly love a good scandal

the Endeavor Pamphlets, part two. thank you for giving the country something to opine about on twitter in these trying times, Enji

so now they’re asking about Hawks and Jeanist but I cannot even focus on anything all of a sudden because what?!

is Jeanist even a real actual human being you guys?! are we sure he’s not three kids sitting on each other’s shoulders?? are you related to that one guy with the really long neck from the Jedi Council?? are you Orochimaru, bro??

so now Hawks is apologizing for the murder of Twice, and for hiding the connection with his dad

the fact that he has to give this serious formal apology and beg forgiveness for the shameful crime of Having An Abusive Father is really something else, though. just. it’s realistic, but I still hate it

moving on now to the one thing he actually does owe the public an explanation for

not to go all “Hawks did nothing wrong” on you guys yet again, but seriously. 100% facts. fandom can (and no doubt will) debate this until the end of time, but if Twice had gotten away they wouldn’t be having this press conference right now because there wouldn’t be any heroes left to give one. anyways though, I’ve already said more than enough about that in previous posts

so now some severe-looking lady with the weirdest fingers I’ve ever seen is saying that her mother was injured during Machia’s rampage

and she’s basically all “a fuck lot of good ‘I’m sorry’ does us all about now.” true true

wow she’s really getting fired up

and now Enji is basically saying that he understands that an apology isn’t enough, and what they really need now are solutions. okay, well! SO THEN WHAT IS THE PLAN THEN

hmmfsdgh

this eloquent PEZ dispenser makes a good point you guys

wait, hold up

CERTAIN citizens?? um excuse me, what??

ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh shit

holy shit. well, this will go over well

okay! so this tells me a number of things, though

basically the minute that Hawks learned about One for All, he realized that anyone connected to Deku (e.g. Inko) would be a target for AFO. AFO wants OFA, meaning AFO wants Deku, and one of the easiest ways to get to Deku would be to target his family

Hawks therefore realized that Inko needed to be placed into protective custody

but the fact that ALL of the hero course students’ families (and is it only the U.A. hero course, or all of the hero course students across the country?) are being given protection tells me that Hawks and co. don’t want to single Deku out as being important. so then it looks like they’re not going to tell everyone about OFA (or at least not the public. which, good). so rather than drawing suspicion by saying “we’ve got to protect everyone connected with this one kid”, they’re making it seem like all the U.A. kids’ families are getting this treatment

but since the heroes are now spread so thin, they can’t just send a protective detail to each and every family, so they’re bringing all of the families to the same place instead to better keep an eye on them

so that’s all well and good, and a very smart move. except that idk how all of this is going to go over with the general public, all of whom are probably feeling unsafe at the moment, and who will probably see this as preferential treatment -- basically just the heroes looking after their own and leaving everyone else to fend for themselves

(ETA: okay so @hanashimas​’ translation clarifies that U.A. is offering their services as an evacuation shelter for everyone who wants it, not just the families of the U.A. students. that’s much more appropriate so I withdraw my previous “wtf” reaction lol.)

anyway though here’s Mitsuki and Inko

can we take this as confirmation that the two of them really are friends? that’s one piece of fanon that I’ve always hoped was true, so I’m gonna go ahead and say it’s confirmed

(ETA: also this means that Hagakure’s parents (or maybe “parents” in quotation marks) will supposedly be moving in as well. sure am curious as to how that’s going to go.)

now someone in the press crowd is asking whether U.A. can provide adequate security, which is honestly the LAST thing I expected these people would be outraged about lol. shows what I know I guess

(ETA: again though, this makes sense if the “certain civilians” thing was just a translation error.)

LMAO DAMMIT ENJI

YOU CAN’T JUST ALWAYS PULL THE “JUST WATCH ME” TRICK AND EXPECT IT TO SHUT DOWN THE CONVERSATION EVERY DAMN TIME YOU ASSHOLE

-- OH MY GOD RED ALERT

TIME TO ANALYZE THIS BECAUSE OMG

WASH CAN’T BELIEVE HIS FAMILY GROUP CHAT IS STILL SENDING HIM FUCKING MEMES AT A TIME LIKE THIS. HE DOESN’T GIVE A FUCK IF THE DABI DANCE IS TRENDING ON TIKTOK, MOM!!

FOR A MINUTE I THOUGHT MT. LADY WAS HOLDING MIDNIGHT’S TORN-UP MASK, AND BY THE TIME I REALIZED THAT’S ACTUALLY HER MASK AND NOT MIDNIGHT’S, I HAD ALREADY CONSTRUCTED AN ELABORATE HEADCANON IN WHICH MT. LADY AND MIDNIGHT WERE SECRETLY DATING BUT HADN’T COME OUT TO ANYONE YET, AND THEN TRAGEDY STRUCK, AND NOW MT. LADY IS GETTING READY TO SET OUT TO SEEK VENGEANCE. AND WELL, NOW THAT THIS HEADCANON EXISTS IN THE WORLD, I’M NOT SURE IF I’M READY TO GET RID OF IT

MIRKO HAS GOTTEN HERSELF A PROSTHETIC (ROBOT??!) ARM, NOTHING ELSE THAT’S HAPPENING IN THIS CHAPTER IS EVEN SLIGHTLY IMPORTANT!!! HELLO!!!!!

AIZAWA WITH THE EYEPATCH GOOD LORD. THE WORLD ISN’T READY. HE LOOKS LIKE HE HASN’T SLEPT IN NINETY-EIGHT YEARS, BUT SOMEHOW HE MAKES IT INTO THE HOTTEST THING EVER AS PER USUAL

WHO THE FUCK IS THIS FUCKING GUY. ARE WE SUPPOSED TO KNOW HIM? IS THIS KAMUI?? WAS THAT THING WHICH I ALWAYS ASSUMED WAS HIS HAIR ACTUALLY A HELMET OR SOMETHING WHAT

LOL AND MEANWHILE

you tell me, Dabi! weren’t you the one who said that wouldn’t be enough to kill him? what even is your endgame here. I’m starting to worry about the villain brain cell supply you guys. I feel like Compress took most of them with him when he left

OH??

“when asked about One for All, Endeavor fucking lied through his teeth.” well, well, well

SLKDFJLSKGDJLKLKGJL THE DORMS

( ⁰ ⌂ ⁰ )

SLDKJFLKJWLKJLK

WLKDJSLKJFWKELKSDJLKHGLK

HDSMFLKGKL:GDSELK

OCHAKO’S HAND IS SHAKING OH MY GOD

THERE’S YOUR KAMINARI, EVERYONE!!

RHA’S SCANLATION TEAM REALLY THREW DEKU’S HANDWRITING UNDER THE BUS HERE HUH

HE TOLD EVERYONE!?

WHY THE FUCK IS HE WRITING IT AS A LETTER

(ETA: 9. also if he really wrote every kid in his class then that means the U.A. traitor -- or Hagakure as we like to call her around these parts -- also knows about OFA, and knows that Deku has run the fuck off and isn’t at U.A. anymore. so that’s just great!)

OH HELL NO

the hell does that mean, you must leave. leave to go where. son you are not up and leaving to go power up and lead us all into a timeskip. and I swear to GOD, if you left Kacchan too...!!

MY GOD I CAN’T PROPERLY ABSORB ALL OF THESE OCHAKO FEELS RIGHT NOW BECAUSE I’M TOO TERRIFIED TO SCROLL TO THE LAST FUCKING PAGE, FUCK

I JUST GOTTA DO IT. I JUST GOTTA SUCK IT UP AND DO IT. FUCK

FUCK

WHAT. THE. FUCK

y’all I’m not even gonna waste your time with more keysmashing, JUST ASSUME THAT I AM DOING IT NONSTOP, FOREVER. and let’s just jump RIGHT IN HERE

okay so here I thought that All Might and co. had taken him away somewhere to train, but that is CLEARLY not what’s going on here. this kid is standing here in his Apocalypse Aesthetic hero costume which has CLEARLY seen better days, with Gran Torino’s cloak (GUESS THAT EXPLAINS THAT, THEN?? SO DID GRAN FUCKING DIE EXCUSE ME WTF), and a fucking backpack. this little green idiot has RUN AWAY FROM HOME. this is the absolute LAST THING ON EARTH I ever expected to happen so PARDON ME WHILE I SCREAM CONFUSEDLY INTO THE VOID

he does not look okay. you guys he doesn’t look okay at ALL. he has NEVER looked like this. this isn’t just a “I’m sad because I’m leaving all my friends behind” kind of look on his face, or even just a “Gran Torino died maybe and I’m still having emotions over it” look. this is an EXHAUSTED, dead look in his eyes. something terrible has happened

WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR ARMS DEKU. THE PEOPLE NEED TO KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING DOWN WITH YOUR ARMS GODDAMMIT

love how this random building is just straight up collapsing, like that’s just a normal thing that happens every day now. lovely

APRIL MEANS IT’S NOW FULL ON SCHEDULED ALL-MIGHT-DYING-HOURS, BUT LET’S COMPLETELY IGNORE THAT THOUGH BECAUSE FUCK THAT NOISE

“THE SECOND USER? WHO KNOWS? CERTAINLY NOT ME” HORIKOSHI I SWEAR TO GOD

“BAKUGOU? NEVER HEARD OF HIM!” HORIKOSHI PLEASE

WHERE. IS. KACCHAN

did he go with Deku?? did he get a chance to talk to him before he left?? did he get his own private letter which he read and then promptly blew up in a fit of panicked rage?? is he going to go after him?? DOES HORIKOSHI KNOW WHAT HE’S DOING TO ME RIGHT NOW?? OF COURSE HE DOES, DON’T BOTHER ANSWERING THAT

omg. though actually the fact that we’ve already jumped a few weeks forward makes me hopeful that there won’t actually be another timeskip, or at least not much of one. I’m sure that’ll be the big debate of the week, but I don’t think we can jump too far forward here. for starters because of that All Might prophecy I mentioned. and also because TomurAFO isn’t just going to wait around for months. and also because I’m 100% sure that Deku’s running-away backpack is just filled ENTIRELY WITH NOTEBOOKS and this asshole cannot possibly survive more than 3 days on his own. UNLESS SOMEONE COMES TO HELP HIM THAT IS. OR SOMEONES, EVEN. OMG. omg omg omg. fuck this chapter lmao

[triptuckers]

Looking at the wrong one - Jesper Fahey

Request: yes! “Firstly, I just want to say I really love your writing! I’ve had this idea for a while and wanting to find someone to write it because I love it so much. So basically reader has feelings for Kaz but he’s obviously in love with Inej so she confides in Jesper who comforts her and she eventually realizes that he’s been the one for her the whole time. I hope you can write it but if you can’t that’s totally fine too!!” Pairing:  Jesper Fahey x reader Summary:  Jesper is the first person you go to when you need advice about something - or rather, someone. It takes you a while to realise you’ve been sneaking glances at the wrong person. Warnings: none Word count:  2.7K A/N: I loved this request sm!! been busy busy busy lately so sorry if your request is taking a while for me to write, finish and post! enjoy reading :)

You glance over at Kaz while he’s explaining the blueprints laid out in front of everyone. You’re trying to pay attention to what he’s saying, you really are, but it’s hard. It’s hard to focus on what he’s saying when Kaz is the one who’s talking. 

There’s no denying it, Kaz looks good. For weeks you tried to push your feelings away, but soon what started as a little crush developed into something more. And now you can barely keep your eyes off of him. 

There’s just something about his mysterious aura. The dark hair, sharp jaw, how he never seems to smile - though you did catch him smile once when he thought no one was looking. There’s so much you don’t know about him, and you’re dying to find out. 

Apparently, you’ve been staring at Kaz for a little too long, because you feel someone nudging your shoulder, and turn to face them.

‘You know.’ mutters Jesper to you from the corner of his mouth. ‘If you want to talk about it, or just need to rant and have someone listen to you, I’m always here. I’ve heard I’m excellent company.’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ you say. ‘Do you think we can pull this job of?’ 

You hoped Jesper wouldn’t ask about Kaz again, and he senses your need to change the subject.

‘We better.’ he says. ‘We can score big with this one.’

Jesper starts talking about what he’s going to do once the job is done, but your eyes are already shifting back to Kaz. You can’t help but to feel a knot in your chest as you see him looking at Inej.

While you’re always looking at Kaz, you catch him looking at Inej. 

Inej is one of your closest friends, and you would die for her. Hell, you almost did die for her a couple of months ago. Still, you couldn’t help but to feel jealous of her. Of the way Kaz looked at her.

Whenever Kaz was looking at Inej and you caught him, it didn’t take long for you to fall down a rabbit hole of insecure and jealous thoughts.

You’d think of everything Inej can do that you cannot do. She has a gifts for knives, you know your way around guns, not knives. When she’s sneaking around, she almost becomes one with the shadows, you couldn’t soundlessly sneak up to someone even if you tried. 

You always concluded Inej was better than you on more than one aspect. You figured she would be a better match for Kaz than you could ever be. You were ashamed of being so jealous of your friend when all Kaz did was look at her. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get rid of the jealousy. 

After Kaz has rolled up the blueprints and everyone went over the plan one last time, you say your goodnights and all head back to your own rooms. You’re barely aware of your movements as your legs carry you to your room. When you move to open the door to your room, a familiar whistle makes you look up.

‘The offer for some company still stands.’ says Jesper, and he winks at you before entering his own room, next to yours in the hallway.

While Jesper didn’t have Kaz’ gift for coming up with plans, he wasn’t stupid. He had caught you looking at Kaz a couple of times, then decided to speak up. As soon as the opportunity presented himself, he’d taken you apart from the others and confronted you about your staring. 

You were shocked, asking him how he could have possible figured it out. Jesper merely raised his eyebrows and told you you’re always looking at Kaz. You hadn’t realised you looked at Kaz so many times. Ever since, Jesper has offered a listening ear. And though you appreciated it, you weren’t ready to talk about your feelings just yet. 

As you’re taking your boots off, your mind wanders to Kaz again. And the way he looked at Inej. He didn’t show his feelings that often, but you couldn’t help but notice how soft his eyes were when he looked at Inej. It drove you crazy, and you didn’t like that it did. You felt like you were going to explode if you kept pushing these feelings down any longer. Maybe having someone listen to you didn’t seem like such a bad idea after all.

Not bothering to put your boots back on, you get up and leave your room. You take a few steps to get in front of Jesper’s door. Though it’s not that late and he’s probably still awake, you hesitate. What if he just wanted to be a good friend, but wasn’t actually interested in your thoughts on Kaz?

You sigh and shake your head, clearing your mind. You then raise your hand and knock on the door. After a few seconds it opens, revealing Jesper. He’s taken off his coat and boots, leaving him in just a shirt and a pair of trousers. He smiles when he sees you.

‘I see you do want my company?’ he says. ‘Only if you don’t mind.’ you say. ‘Of course not.’ he says, stepping aside so you can enter his room.

You take a seat in the only chair in the room as Jesper closes the door. He walks over to his bed and sits down as you tuck your feet under your legs, getting comfortable.

‘So.’ says Jesper. ‘Am I problem solving or listening?’

You frown at his words. ‘What does that mean?’ you ask him.

‘Well, it’s the easiest way to prevent a fight.’ explains Jesper. ‘If I’m problem solving, I’ll give you advice and come up with solutions. If I’m listening, I’m just going to shut up and, well, listen. So, am I problem solving or listening?’

‘Listening, I guess.’ you say.

‘Alright.’ says Jesper, leaning back against the wall and stretching his legs in front of him. He gestures with his hand to you. ‘Let it all out then, love.’

You don’t know where to begin. Jesper is patient as you’re searching for the words. Without realising, you start to play with your fingers, a habit of yours which you do when you’re thinking or anxious.

‘It starts... Well, when I became a member of the Dregs, I guess. I was young, but Kaz was around my age. We became close friends. That is, as far as being close friends with Kaz goes. I trusted him, he trusted me. We spent months working our way up to the top and along the way you tagged along, and Inej, Nina, Matthias and Wylan. I care about all of you, but there’s just something  different about Kaz.’ you tell him.

Jesper looks at you but doesn’t say anything. He’s just listening, exactly like he said he would.

‘It started off as an innocent crush. Saints, I sound like some school girl. Anyway, somewhere along the way that little crush developed into something more. And now I can’t stop looking at him or thinking about him. And now that I’ve said this out loud, I realise you are the first person I’ve talked to about this.’ 

You’re silent for a while as you look at Jesper. You were afraid he’d laugh at you, but he’s just sitting on his bed, looking at you. 

‘I can tell there’s still something else on your mind.’ he simply says. You let out a sigh and nod, and start talking again.

‘He’s always looking at Inej. Whenever I look at him, he’s looking at Inej. I know I shouldn’t feel the way I do, but I cannot pretend it doesn't make me a little jealous. The first time I saw him looking at Inej, I wished he looked at me like that. I know this sounds stupid, but I really can’t help it. And once I catch him looking at her, I start to think about how I’m not worth it.’ you say.

Now Jesper frowns. ‘But you’re worth it.’ he says. You chuckle softly and shake your head.

‘She’s everything I’m not. She’s pretty, she’s very skilled with her knives, she can sneak up to anyone without being seen or heard. She knows the secrets of everyone in the Barrel. She could take down the Merchant council all on her own if she wanted to. I can’t do that.’ you say. 

‘I know I said I was listening, but can I just offer you one piece of advice?’ asks Jesper. You nod. ‘You say you notice the way Kaz looks at Inej, I have noticed that as well. He looks at her the way you look at him. Don’t you think you should try to admit to yourself that he’s only going to be looking at her, and not you?’

‘Deep down I know that.’ you say softly. ‘But I can’t fully wrap my head around that. Not just yet, at least.’

‘Alright.’ says Jesper. ‘Maybe not now, but if you give it time, maybe it’ll hurt less.’

You look at him and smile as you get up. ‘Thank you Jesper.’ you say. ‘This is nice. Having someone listen to you.’

Jesper gets up as well as you walk toward the door. ‘The door’s always open to you.’ says Jesper as he opens the door for you. ‘You can always swing by.’

‘Thanks.’ you say as you step out onto the hallway. ‘Goodnight, Jes.’  ‘Night, Y/N.’ he says as you walk the few steps to the door of your room.

After that conversation, your nightly visits to Jesper’s room increase. Sometimes he’s problem solving, sometimes he’s listening, and sometimes you just sit in silence when all you want is some company.

There’s even one night in which you actually fell asleep when you were sitting on his bed, and when you woke up the next morning, you found Jesper sleeping on the floor while using his coat as a blanket. Your heart melted a little, but you decided not to speak up as you snuck out of his room.

Weeks pass, and slowly your visits turn from seeking advice about Kaz to enjoying a conversation with Jesper. He makes you laugh as he tells you stories about how he used to drive his parents crazy doing god knows what at their farm. In return, you tell him about the life you lived before you came to Ketterdam.

Another couple of visits later, and you’ve almost completely forgotten that you originally started visiting Jesper to talk about Kaz. You notice you’ve stopped sneaking glances at Kaz. You’re not even jealous when you catch him looking at Inej again. 

Instead, your attention is on Jesper. More than once, he caught your eye and sent a wink you way, making you smile and turn away.

Your nightly visits increase even more, and you can be found in Jesper’s room almost every night, laughing at his jokes.  

After a particularly long night that involved keeping tabs on the security of one of the banks for hours, you find yourself in front of Jesper’s room again. Kaz had sent you out on the job, and you had hoped Jesper would be in his room when you got back.

But after knocking three times, he still hasn’t opened the door. You whistle a familiar tune, hoping he’d answer the door. When he doesn’t, you kick over a tiny tin can that sits on the floor next to the door.

‘So predictable.’ you murmur as you bend down to pick up the key that was underneath it. Knowing Jesper probably wouldn’t mind, you let yourself in and walk over to the only chair in the room.

You let yourself settle in and reach out to take the deck of cards Jesper always keeps on his nightstand. 

You’re fooling around with the cards, if only to keep yourself busy as you wait for Jesper. You’re shuffling the cards, moving them smoothly in your hands.

‘Can you teach me that?’ 

At the sudden voice, you drop half of the cards. You hadn’t seen or heard him coming. Jesper chuckles as he walks over and stands behind you, looking out over the city beneath you.

‘This is my favourite view.’ he says, looking out the window.

‘Mine too.’ you say, while you look at the reflection of his face in the window. You then fully realise you haven’t talked about Kaz in weeks, that you just come to Jesper’s room for a conversation and some company, and you remember the night he slept on the floor.

‘Jes?’ you ask him. ‘Yea love?’ he says. ‘The other night when I was here-’ ‘Care to specify which night?’ 

‘I fell asleep, and when I woke up you were sleeping on the floor.’ ‘Oh, that night.’ he says. ‘Well, would you rather I had pushed you off the bed?’ ‘No.’ you laugh.

Jesper laughs too and you look at each other in silence afterward. It’s a comfortable silence, and he’s the first one to speak up.

‘You haven’t talked about Kaz in a while.’ he says. ‘Finally realised his heart belongs to someone else?’

‘Yes, well, I realised that so does mine.’ you say. This makes Jesper frown. 

‘Already moving on?’ he says. ‘Thought your feelings for him were more serious.’

‘They were.’ you say. ‘But I've found someone who listens to me, who sees me, who makes me laugh.’ you cock your head to the side a little and look at him. ‘Nice to look at, as well.’

Jesper raises one eyebrow.

‘Who is this mystery person?’ he says. ‘And am I problem solving or listening?’ ‘Well I hope you’re gonna do something else.’ you say. Jesper frowns again, making you playfully roll your eyes.

‘Not the smartest tonight, are we?’ you say. ‘Let me repeat it: I've found someone who listens to me, sees me, and makes me laugh. and not bad to look at.’ 

He’s still frowning. ‘Another hint?’ he says. ‘This is why Kaz does the planning and has the brains.’ you say, laughing.‘Rude.’ says Jesper.

‘It’s a he, and he’s caring and sweet, sometimes struggles to sit still, loves a good gunfight, he’s an excellent shot.’ you say.

Jesper smirks at you and then fakes a look of confusion on his face. ‘Still not getting it.’ he says. ‘Tell me more about him.’

You laugh and get up, standing close to him. ‘He’s not just an excellent shot, he’s the best damn sharpshooter in Ketterdam. Saved my ass a couple times as well. Owns a pair of stunningly hand made revolvers. He’s Zemini, taller than me, and..’ your voice drifts off.

‘And?’ says Jesper, stepping closer to you. ‘And I've been wondering if he’s a good kisser.’ you say softly. 

‘Well, let’s find out, shall we?’ says Jesper and he cups your face with both of his hands and presses his lips against yours. They’re soft, and you can taste a hint of his last drink on them. He kisses you gently but passionate, and takes a  breath when he pulls away.

‘Hmm.’ you say, pretending to think. ‘Yea, pretty good.’

‘Pretty good?’ says Jesper. ‘I've heard I'm more than a pretty good kisser.’

‘Prove it then.’ you say.

Jesper smirks and pulls you in for a kiss once more. This one is different, it’s more demanding, and leaves you breathless as you struggle to keep your knees from buckling. 

He pulls away and rests his forehead against yours. ‘How about that?’ he says softly.

You smile and press a quick kiss to his lips. ‘You live up to your reputation, Fahey.’ you say. ‘You’re an excellent kisser.’

‘Just like I thought.’ says Jesper. ‘Do you want to stay here tonight?’

‘I would love to.’ you say.

You spend the rest of the night talking with Jesper until eventually, you feel yourself falling asleep. You feel how Jesper moves next to you, to take his spot on the floor again. You lay a hand on his arm to stop him, silently telling him it’s okay and that he doesn’t have to sleep on the floor.

Kaz wasn’t the right match for you, Inej is. But Jesper certainly is your match.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Stalker X Stalker, Part 7

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Perma tag: @nathleigh @peachmuses

Stalker x Stalker taglist: @aespades @jayjayspixiepop @blueslushgueen @fan-written @seraphichana @nerd-nowandforever

No I didn't get carried away with writing domestic fluff and forget to do the one thing I was supposed to with this chapter I'm a professional and would never do that

It took a long time for Tim and Cass to convince Marinette that, no, it wasn’t a trap, it was just a normal Halloween Party. It took even longer to explain what a Halloween Party really was, because apparently it wasn’t a huge deal in France.

But, eventually, she got it:

“Okay, so every Rogue and vigilante has to go to his Halloween Party in stupid costumes… or else?”

Tim nodded. “Rogues have to go because he’ll be insufferable, we have to go because otherwise we’re leaving a bunch of Rogues alone together without supervision.”

“And it really is just a Halloween Party?”

Cass flashed two thumbs up.

Marinette still looked a little confused. “And we… we want to babysit the Rogues?”

“They mostly behave themselves. Again, Crane can be insufferable when he wants to be and they have to spend a lot of time with him in Arkham.”

“I guess that’s cool then…” Then, a thought seemed to occur to her because she brightened up. “Is Nightwing coming?”

Tim nodded, suddenly a lot more wary. “Yeah, both he and Flamebird drop by for most holidays, anyway, so they might as well… why?”

She blushed a little. “I kind of wanted to see if I could get him to train me. I think his fighting style is pretty cool.”

Tim was not jealous or annoyed that Marinette might like two of his brothers more than him. He was fine if she liked Cass more, because Cass was, well, Cass. But Dick? Damian? Come on!

At least he had a month before the party to prepare himself.

For now, he glared at Cass, because she was laughing at him behind her hand.

Then he remembered that Marinette was still there and was watching the two of them interact with a vaguely confused expression and he pulled himself together: “I don’t know if he can teach you much since he’s usually in Bludhaven, but I used to be obsessed with the guy and I know all his moves by heart.”

She tipped her head to the side, considering, then smiled at him. “Sure. Thanks, Red, I owe you one.”

He tried to hide his relief behind a smile. She smiled and blushed, so he was pretty sure it worked.

~

Marinette smiled as she scrolled through the Batinternet on her phone (they’d finally given her the password! She no longer had to waste data!). The batkids were all working on the computer, trying to hack into their father’s files to see their Christmas presents.

She didn’t get why they were doing it then, it wasn’t even Halloween yet. Still, they insisted that Batman was always prepared well before the holidays hit. She was curious about what they’d find, if anything, so she waited as Red Robin hacked their dad’s files.

Loud cheers erupted from the others, which meant they must have found something.

“... right, Ladybug, yours is easiest to get into… he probably didn’t expect you to try… he’s getting you an Xbox and a bunch of games to go with it.”

Her gaze shot up and she surged to the front of the group to see. “Really?”

Red Robin pointed at the screen and she blinked a few times. Yep, that was a customized Xbox. Wild.

Then her shoulders slumped. “Damn, I was only kidding. If I knew he was actually going to get it I would’ve asked for a Playstation.”

She continued looking at all the ‘random’ games Batman had bought her (he was suspiciously good at guessing what she liked), completely oblivious to the fact that she had accidentally started World War III right behind herself at the casual mention of a thing she wanted.

She glanced back at them once during their fight and they straightened instantly, innocent smiles in place. The hand Red Robin had in Robin’s hair turned into a hair ruffle. Black Bat had turned the way she gripped the collar of Spoiler’s shirt into pulling her down for a hug. Signal’s eyes stopped glowing under his domino. She smiled a little and turned back to the screen to look at the rest of the games. Fighting resumed.

Or, at least, it did until Marinette saw the file name.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

“I knew you fuckers took my blood,” she hissed irritably.

She wasn’t exactly scared, the bats seemed generally well-intentioned, just paranoid, but that didn’t mean she liked it. They stole her blood to figure out her identity without asking.

They all tensed up behind her and looked at each other awkwardly.

Robin was first to snap out of it. He swatted Red Robin over the back of the head. “Look what you’ve done, Drake.”

Marinette blinked and then pulled her gaze back to Red Robin. “Drake?”

The batkids looked at each other awkwardly. Except for Red Robin, who was glaring at his youngest brother.

Spoiler was the first one to come up with an excuse: “It’s an older codename. We told him to come up with something original since everything else he’s used has belonged to someone else first… and that’s what he came up with.”

She considered whether Drake really confirmed that Red Robin was Tim Drake-Wayne. On one hand, yeah… but, on the other hand, was he really that stupid? Would he really use his own last name for a codename?

She supposed that, in all her time knowing Tim and Red Robin, he had never shown himself to be original. Smart, sure, but a little unoriginal.

So, yeah, Tim was almost definitely Red Robin.

But she was prepared to ignore it for now. Every bat seemed tense at the idea of her learning their identities, so she played dumb:

“It’s not that bad of a codename. Dragons are pretty cool.”

She could feel Black Bat still staring at her, but everyone else relaxed almost imperceptibly.

“He didn’t base himself off of dragons, he chose male ducks,” Robin informed her.

She blinked. “Why the hell would he choose ducks?”

Signal snapped his fingers and started pulling out his phone. “Oh, Mari -- can I call you Mari? -- you should see his outfit.”

Red Robin realized he was about to get murdered for his younger self’s outfit choices and tried to snatch the phone away.

Unfortunately for him, while he was concentrating on Signal, Black Bat had sidled over to Marinette. She tugged her arm to pull her attention from the two fighting boys and then showed her the picture.

Marinette stared at the ugly cockroach outfit for a long time before taking a deep breath: “Alright, first of all...”

~

Tim… he was fine.

Okay, no, he wasn’t.

The tracker was better, he would admit. She had even started wearing more red and black so she could wear the necklace more (something that made him feel all fuzzy inside), but she wasn’t wearing it every day and he couldn’t exactly tell if the necklace was there because she was home or if it was there because she’d worn a different outfit.

So, he only had one solution: randomly dropping by to do chores with her.

It started off with the ‘might as well’ principle. They were already out for photography and getting ideas for outfits, why not pick up some groceries while they were on their way back? She could even carry more since there were two of them.

He quickly dropped pretenses, though. The one time every few days that they hung out wasn’t enough to keep her in the house, and even if it was she clearly wasn’t fond of staying inside for long periods of time. He started dropping by every day to just go out with her.

He could tell his family was getting a little suspicious about what he was doing, Steph and Cass both narrowed their eyes at him whenever they saw him leaving the office at a normal time and once he had caught Duke following him to see where he was going… but it was fine. They weren’t going to complain about him actually getting some sort of down time.

And, he had to admit, it was nice. Not only did resting his brain for an hour or two a day do wonders for his mental health, he just… enjoyed doing chores with her? He didn’t think he would. He’d expected to like it the first few times, the novelty of going on his first grocery shopping trip or figuring out how a laundromat was always going to make it interesting and new for a bit, but it didn’t seem to be wearing off.

He was pretty sure that was because of the person he was doing it with, though.

He smiled as he watched Marinette half-climb the supermarket shelves for a bag of Takis.

“Need help?” He called.

“Nope!”

He watched her jump a few times on the lowest shelf before, eventually, climbing up another shelf.

Tim winced and surged forward to support her weight a little.

She huffed and grabbed the Takis. He set her down.

She crossed her arms. “I said I could get it.”

“I trust you. The shelves? Not so much. Do you want to die crushed under a bunch of chips?”

Her halfhearted glare morphed into a grin. “If I die any other way you have to promise to resurrect me so I can do it again.”

He rolled his eyes. “How about I resurrect you and you try not to die again for a while?”

“Hm… I guess that’d be alright.”

Then, at the laundromat, Tim saw a bunch of Two Face’s henchmen. How did he know that they were henchmen? The black and white suits kind of gave them away.

He was just wondering whether it was worth it to try and call Duke over so they didn’t risk something happening when he realized that Marinette had slipped over to them.

But she wasn’t concerned as she offered some of her detergent. “Hey, if you need to wash lights and darks together like that… you’re going to need a different detergent. I know those are cheap but there’s a reason for that.”

“Isn’t that just an old detergent problem?”

“No, separating every single color into a different load is. But, if you want to do pure black and white like that… you don’t want to risk it.”

Then she turned and glared at another goon, who was pulling their luckily still okay clothes out of the washer.

“You’d better not be putting that in the dryer.”

The sheepish look on the henchman’s face was answer enough.

She huffed. “That is airdry only why would you do that --?!”

And that’s how they ended up friends with -- and possibly under the protection of? -- a bunch of henchmen. Tim had to admit, they were really nice when he and Marinette weren’t trying to get them thrown in jail. He almost found himself slipping and hoping that Frank managed to achieve his mob boss dreams. He actually did offer to babysit Sam’s kids while she had a shift because she seemed very stressed.

“Tim, darling, do you even know how to take care of kids?”

Tim didn’t know whether to blush because she had called him darling oh my god or due to embarrassment at that massive oversight.

“Uh… would you be willing to help?”

Marinette gave him an exhausted look. “I’ve only ever babysat one kid at a time without their older sibling being there to help.”

He quickly changed the offer to paying for a babysitter. Sam was thankful regardless.

When everyone had finished laundering their clothes to Marinette’s satisfaction, the two of them headed back towards her apartment.

Tim changed the position of the laundry basket on his hip so it didn’t dig into him as much. “You know, you didn’t have to help them.”

She snickered. “First of all, you’re absolutely wrong. I couldn’t just sit by and watch them ruin their clothes right in front of me!”

He rolled his eyes, trying to hide the fond smile on his face. “And second of all?”

“Secondly…” She let him into the house and closed the door behind him. A cheeky smile formed on her face. “Well, they’re henchmen. Don’t you think it would be a good idea to have them on our side in case things go wrong rather than indifferent to what happens to us?”

It was here, with her smiling in front of him, intelligence sparkling in her eyes and the necklace he gave her hanging from her neck, that he realized that he was going to fall in love. He might not be there yet but, if they continued doing things like this, he was sure he would.

He wouldn’t mind that, he thought, as she leaned forward to take the basket from him, pressing a kiss to his cheek on the way over. He watched her disappear to her room, no doubt to fix whatever damage he had done while carrying it that would be invisible to anyone but her. He shoved his hands in his pockets and went to start up the coffee machine.

~

There are no botanical gardens more beautiful than the ones in Gotham. Whether that was because Poison Ivy herself tended to them or because they were kept in tip-top shape to appease her, Marinette didn’t know. Whatever the reason, it was gorgeous and Marinette had gotten quite a few different ideas. She pretty much had an entire spring collection planned out…

It was unfortunate that she’d gotten ideas for a spring collection in the middle of autumn, but she was ignoring that.

Now, they were sitting on her couch. They needed to relax after all that walking around on top of a rather exhausting night the night before (Scarecrow had broken out of Arkham to start preparing for his Halloween Party). She was completely in his space in an attempt to mess with him. It, unfortunately, didn’t seem to annoy him as he lazily rested his head on top of hers.

She huffed a little but allowed it.

He fiddled with the settings on his camera, biting his lip.

She looked down at the camera and asked: “How’d you get into photography?”

“... it’s a kind of personal story,” he said carefully. “A little sad, too, I guess.”

She tried to pull back, an apology on her lips, but he just rested an arm around her shoulders and held her close.

“It’s fine.”

She nodded as much as she could with the head resting on top of hers.

They were silent for a long time. She tried to relax herself. There were no akumas in Gotham, it was okay to accidentally upset someone and it was okay to ask them if they wanted to elaborate. They were people, people are supposed to feel sad sometimes. It’s healthy.

She took a deep breath before curling more into his side. “Would you like to talk about it?”

The arm around her tightened almost imperceptibly. “I… I guess I can, sure.”

“You don’t have to,” she said quickly. In fact, she might be a little more comfortable with that. Emotional conversations weren’t a Parisian’s forte.

But he sighed and shook his head. “It’s fine. Our relationship can’t progress all that healthily if we never tell each other anything.”

Yikes. Way to accidentally call her out on the fact that she hadn’t formed a healthy relationship in years, Tim.

“Not that I’m all that great at healthy relationships,” he said after a minute.

At least she wasn’t alone, she supposed.

“No easy way to say this, I guess… my parents weren’t the best. They’d go on trips -- they were archaeologists -- and I’d be left home alone, usually for months at a time.”

She cringed internally and took his hand in hers, rubbing comforting circles into his palm.

He sighed lightly. “So… I was lonely, obviously. I started by taking pictures of my parents. Sometimes it was all I’d have of them for months. They could leave, but the pictures weren’t able to.”

She felt him bury his face in her hair.

“I started following the bats after a while. I don’t know if it was because I wasn’t sated by pictures of just the two of them and decided to expand, if it was because they had a happy family despite a distant father and I wanted that for myself, or if it was because I wanted my parents to find out and be worried about me, or a mix of all of that… but…”

She slowly moved the camera off of his lap and pulled him into a hug. “But?”

He was silent for a bit, thinking over his answer. He shrugged and wrapped his arms around her. “It was an old coping mechanism. A way of feeling connected to people when I couldn’t actually be.”

“‘Was?’ What changed?”

He laid back on the couch and she allowed him to pull her down beside him. “People around me… started ‘leaving permanently’.”

She winced. Oh.

“It hurt a lot more to look at the pictures after that. It just felt like a reminder that I was alone.”

She frowned. “But… you’re taking pictures of me, now.” Her eyes widened. “Shit, did I accidentally trigger --.”

He shook his head quickly. “No, no. Well, kind of, but it’s okay! Every time they’ve died, it was because of some sort of shortcoming on my part. I think I’ve learned from all my mistakes. You… I won’t let you get hurt, okay?”

Marinette didn’t know how to respond. On one hand, she was pretty sure that she should be assuring him that, even if she did end up dying, that he shouldn’t blame himself… on the other hand, she had no intentions of dying and she was pretty sure it was nearly impossible for her, so maybe it was a good thing that he had chosen to protect her of all people? Maybe the problem would solve itself?

She didn’t know.

She carefully took his face in her hands, pulling him to look her in the eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, okay, darling?”

He gave her a tentative smile. “I sure hope you’re right.”

~

He had been asked to stay the night. Her excuse was that she was almost done with an outfit for him and she wanted to give it to him the second it was done and, by the time it would be, it would be too dark to go out safely.

Tim kind of felt bad that he had worried her but he wasn’t going to turn down the offer of staying over and watching her finish the outfit.

But, first, food. They dropped a million takeout menus on the desk. A long silence stretched between them as they looked at all the options.

“... what do you want?” Asked Marinette.

“I’m not in the mood for anything in particular, you?”

She sighed. “I don’t know, do you want anything?”

“I don’t want anything, what about you --?”

This continued on for about three minutes before Tim got a brilliant idea. He dialled Damian’s number and put it on speaker.

“Drake. Why are you calling? Have you been hurt?”

“No, Dami, I’m getting takeout and I was just wondering if you had any ideas.”

Marinette gave him an affronted look, but he clapped his hand over her mouth before she could warn Damian that, no, he wasn’t buying food for him he was just going to be an asshole.

“... I suppose I wouldn’t be averse to Chinese.”

“Thanks, Dami! Hope you can get Alfie to make that for you.”

“What do -- ?”

Tim hung up on his very confused younger brother.

Marinette frowned as he removed his hand from her mouth. “That wasn’t nice of you, that’s a kid.”

Tim was not about to get beaten by his brother in both identities, thank you very much.

“Alfred can cook better than anyone in the world, he’s not going to suffer.”

She snorted. “I doubt he can make food better than…” She picked through the takeout papers for a few moments before holding up a menu. “... this place!”

He squinted at the menu. “... I really hope you can speak Mandarin.”

“You’d be hard pressed to find a language I can’t speak, Timmy,” she said, absently dialling the number.

Well, he supposed that explained how a person from France knew ASL and could speak English like a native. Damn. Now he kinda wanted magical god-earrings so he could speak every language in existence.

She spoke cheerfully to the person on the other side of the line for a moment before turning to Tim. “What do you want?”

“Uh… shrimp fried rice?”

She rolled her eyes and flicked his nose. “Alright, fine, white boy.”

“It’s a safe option okay --!”

She wasn’t listening to him explain why fried rice was the best choice for him because she was relaying the order to the person on the other side of the line. She hung up with a smile.

“Food will be here in about three minutes. Do you rich people have small bills or do you just use them for tissues or something?”

He raised his eyebrows. “They go down to a hundred, right?”

She pressed her lips together thinly, clearly unsure whether or not he was joking.

He snickered and shook his head. “Nah, I think I have twenties and fifties…”

“Yeah, that won’t do. We’re going to get robbed,” she said, reaching into her purse.

“We? Didn’t know I lived here, too,” he joked.

She barely even glanced up from where she was counting money. “Honestly, with how often you’re here, you might as well move in.”

He choked. He wanted to say something smart or funny or smooth, instead all that came out was: “You --? I --? Uh --!”

She snickered behind her hand. “Love, relax, I’m just kidding. You don’t have to leave your fancy mansion with all your siblings --.”

“Wait, don’t make living here sound even better. I will do it purely to get away from them, don’t test me.”

She rolled her eyes with a grin. “Maybe that's the plan, you’ll never know.”

Tim had exactly zero idea whether they were joking or not anymore. The tone and reactions made him pretty sure they were kidding, but… what if they weren’t?

He was just gathering the courage to ask when the doorbell rang, pulling their attention to the food. She continued counting for a second before running to the door and swinging it open.

He walked up beside her awkwardly as she chatted politely to the guy to take the food inside. He knew, logically, that Marinette was actually way stronger than he was… but his stupid brain saw a thin, short woman in need of someone to help her carry things. So, he took it from the guy with a smile.

The delivery guy glanced Tim up and down before asking Marinette something. She laughed and gave a shrug. Tim did not know what was going on but he felt vaguely insulted.

He was definitely learning Mandarin after this.

The moment the door closed he whined about being insulted. She looked amused.

“You know what he said?”

“... no,” he admitted.

Her lips twitched.

“... you’re not going to tell me, are you?”

She snickered and leaned over the two bags of food in his hands. “So, you got the fried rice, right?”

“Mariiiiiiii.”

“Your food is going to get cold.”

“Beeeaaaan,” he complained.

She raised an eyebrow at him, a blush spreading across her face. “Bean?”

He grinned, feeling heat creep to his own cheeks. “I don’t know, I couldn’t think of anything for a nickname. First thing I thought of was coffee beans, so: Bean.”

“Wow, you’re such an addict,” she teased.

He continued pouting at her until she gave in.

She leaned forward to press a kiss to his nose. “He asked if you could use chopsticks or not so he could get you a fork if you couldn’t.”

He felt the blush on his face deepen. “Oh… I can’t.”

“That’s fine.” She grabbed a tote bag from the floor of her pantry and pulled out a set of plasticware.

He blinked. “... you keep plastic forks?”

She shrugged and tossed the bag back in her pantry. “Plastic forks, grocery bags, napkins, a few sets of chopsticks…”

“... why?”

“Some of us are minorities, darling.”

“What --?”

~

She hummed tunelessly as she worked.

Tim had fallen asleep on her shoulder. Had most of this been an elaborate plot to make him finally get some sleep? Possibly.

She didn’t feel all that bad, though. With how much he overworked himself both as Red Robin and as Tim Drake-Wayne… honestly, she was beginning to doubt that he slept at all. And, really, if a vigilante coffee addict with a magically enhanced physique is worried about your sleep schedule, you’ve got problems. Intervention was needed.

Don’t get her wrong, though, she was going to make up for lying to him. She’d move him to her bed and leave a cup of coffee for him on the bedside table. Maybe she’d even make him breakfast, it depended on how tired she was in the morning.

But that was for when she was done. For now, she was working on the last part of the outfit: she needed to lace up the corset. His posture needed a little work and she didn’t have the heart to tell him that to his face.

… besides, corset vests are cute. She wished more guys would wear them.

She smiled to herself as she pulled the last bit of lace through and tied a loose knot. Done.

She looked down at Tim. Loose strands fell in his face as he slept. The tiny wrinkles in his forehead disappeared, making him look much younger. His lips curled into a slight smile at whatever he was dreaming about.

He looked so genuinely at peace. She hated that that was abnormal for him.

She couldn’t help but worry a little about what he’d said earlier. He’d claimed that the reason he had gone up to the top of that building the day they’d met (as Tim and Marinette) was to scout out a location for photography, but now that was seeming like a lie because he apparently preferred taking pictures of people over locations… so, why was he up so high? He’d known it was illegal to be there, so she doubted he thought anyone else would be…

She swallowed thickly.

She didn’t think his mental state was that bad… but, just in case it was, she waved Tikki over for a bug and sewed it into one of his sleeves.

Tikki was looking at her disapprovingly. Marinette ignored her.

It was Ladybug’s job to make sure everyone was doing okay mentally, and she wasn’t going to fail a person she cared about of all people.

His head slipped from her shoulder onto her stomach and she sighed, trying to lightly push him off without disturbing his sleep. It didn’t work. He made a quiet sound in the back of his throat and buried his face in her stomach, his arms wrapping around her tightly.

Well, this is her life now.

… she supposed it wasn’t so bad, though.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

how do you think edward would react if he was in the same truck-baseball game time loop bella was in (either if bella was in it or wasn't, whatever you prefer)

For reference, that one time Bella's stuck in a time loop.

Are we asking to make Edward even crazier than usual? Well, that will surely go... interesting places. Let's do it.

Edward In the Loop With Bella

Loop One

There Edward is, facing off with James, Victoria, and Laurent, gearing up for the fight of his life as he realizes exactly what it is James wants and is planning and then...

Then he blinks, he's in the parking lot, Bella's about to be hit by a van.

Edward panics, desperately saves her life, and has no idea what's happening. Did he... hallucinate those months? Were those his lovesick dreams of having Bella for himself?

Of course they were, he says as he drives to the hospital in Bella's car, sobbing as he listens to George Michael's Careless Whisper. For Bella, this bright, beautiful, angelic girl, could never love a beast such as him. He desperately tries to put his love for Bella out of his mind, for it can never be, what they had was a dream and nothing more.

BEEEEEELLLLLLLAAAAAA!

Bella ruins this noble, romantic, tragedy in two seconds when Edward enters the hospital and goes, "You're not going to believe me, but I'm from the fuuuuuuutuuuuuuure!"

Well, Edward doesn't actually like that, makes all of this a little anticlimactic. He questions her extensively, tries to convince her that she's just hallucinating, she hit her head pretty hard, but eventually gives up. Their memories seem to match up exactly, he and Bella are actually from the future.

Edward's not even sure why he's disappointed himself, yet, somehow he is.

He goes home and gets to be the one to tell the Cullens it's all fine, he's from the future, Bella is too, they're not going to kill her because Edward's in love with her, can we skip this?

The Cullens stare, Alice really doesn't know how she feels about this, but we get a similar reaction to canon. Where Carlisle says, "Alright then... I guess this means no moving."

Edward sighs, for the first time, he doesn't really feel like going to Bella's that night. He instead sits at the piano, playing Chop Sticks, wondering why he feels so despondent.

Bella loves him, he loves Bella, they're dating, he has everything he ever wanted. Why isn't he happy?

He gets to school and Bella's very clingy and seems to want to pick off exactly where they left off. She wants Edward to sit with her at lunch, she's talking about visiting the Cullens as soon as possible, she wants to go on a real date.

And Edward realizes that he doesn't have to battle with himself to stay away from Bella anymore, he's done that. He doesn't have to rescue her in Port Angeles, Bella's not going. He's not taking her to the meadow, he's done that too.

Edward's been there and done that for all of this. This isn't even a chance to redo his mistakes, if he'd really made any, because all the things he'd want to do again involve Bella who came back with him.

Edward throws himself into dating Bella, trying to shake himself loose from this strange sense of apathy. Bella doesn't even seem to notice the difference in him, something in Edward... grows a little cold.

He finds himself to returning to his plans of how best to nobly leave her. Something he always acknowledged he would do, but before looked at with reluctance. Now he actively schemes when and how it should occur.

He should wait until summer, that will be easiest on the family for the pretext of "moving", and that way he can go to Prom with Bella. She'll get over him quickly, move on with her human life, while Edward watches her from the shadows.

Bella finally starts to notice that Edward is... distant. She tries to confront him, ask what she's doing wrong, and desperately throws herself into the relationship. That just makes it worse for Edward.

The pair start fighting, Edward insists Bella does not come to the baseball game, and just then they loop again.

Loop Two

Edward's back in the parking lot, Bella's about to be hit by a van. Edward once again heroically saves her, but he feels as if he's going through the motions.

In the hospital room, neither Bella nor Edward say a word to one another, both realize exactly what has happened. After a moment of silence, Edward suggests that, perhaps, what they need is distance.

Just a few weeks apart.

Bella says nothing.

Edward consults Alice, telling her what's been happening to him, and Alice tells him that as far as she can tell nothing is wrong with time itself. Her visions work as usual, it's just that Edward and Bella's decisions have changed.

Though, not the outcomes, Alice confirms that either Bella will become a vampire or she'll die. Alice suggests, hesitantly, that if this keeps happening perhaps Bella has to be a vampire to stop this.

Perhaps that's why Alice only sees two futures. Because any future where Bella remains human, they loop.

Edward refuses to accept this in a rage. This, this cannot happen, he will loop for all eternity rather than turn Bella! HE IS NOT A TOY OF FATE!

There's a fire in Edward now, he returns through Bella's bedroom window, and restarts their passionate romance. Bella's thrilled, the love of her life has come back for her, she cries tears of joy.

For months, Bella and Edward are back in the honeymoon stage of their romance.

They loop again.

Loop Three

Bella points out that they're still looping. This is... starting to get weird. Maybe they should figure out solutions to this?

Edward says THIS IS FINE, with Alice's words ringing in the back of his mind. Bella can never know.

Too bad for him, this is Bella's first guess. Maybe, if she becomes a vampire, somehow the loops will stop. EDWARD WILL NEVER TARNISH HER LIKE THAT.

Bella is very hurt, and upset, and asks if Edward will seriously spend forever, trapped in these few months, unable to move forward rather than turn her.

Edward desperately tries to convince her that these months are wonderful. You love being trapped in this timeframe, Bella.

He romances her harder than ever, only this time, Bella's the one that's not thrilled.

She and Edward have no future. Edward would literally rather be trapped in this utterly absurd scenario, never able to move forward with their lives, rather than turn her into a vampire.

A lot of fights happen. In desperation, Edward proves that they can move forward, that this endless loop is what vampirism itself is like, where time ceases to have meaning. He proposes to Bella, they will marry.

Bella flat out says no, she doesn't want to marry, and god marry while she's still in highschool? Can she even legally get married right now?

Edward... did not expect that answer.

The pair end up on and off fighting up until the loop happens.

Loop Four

This time, distracted by his own ire, Edward forgets to stop the van. Bella is crushed, Edward and the family have to hightail it out of there to not slurp her blood off the asphalt, and Edward is horrified.

He... murdered Bella. She's dead, because he allowed petty arguments to distract him. Oh god.

To his horror, the loop keeps going, and he lives in terror that it will proceed past the baseball game. What if Bella's dead forever? What if, rather than turn her, the only other way out of the loop was her death?

Edward's an utter mess, clawing at the walls, and the family doesn't understand at all because Bella Swan is simply a girl who had a tragic death.

To Edward's horrified relief, he loops.

Loop N

Bella remembers Edward failed to save him. She does not blame him for it, but Edward certainly blames himself and there's now... a wall between them that wasn't there.

Nonetheless, they try again. This time, they'll go back to the basics.

Edward eats her in the meadow.

They loop.

Edward keeps accidentally eating her.

It's horrible and then he realizes... it doesn't matter. It never lasts, he's a monster yes, but he always was one. It seems he's doomed to eat Bella Swan. And at least he knows she'll be here tomorrow.

And if he's damned anyway then he might as well enjoy it.

He starts eating her on purpose.

Soon, they get a little routine down.

Bella nearly gets hit by a van, Edward saves her life, they go to the hospital, Edward drags her into a closet, eats her, then throws her corpse out the window and tells Carlisle she committed suicide.

Such a tragic end.

Bella starts desperately trying to save herself, but it's all over so quick, now her life is endlessly getting eaten by Edward.

Given this loop seems to be infinitely long, and thus all remote possibilities will eventually occur, there will be a timeline where Edward accidentally turns Bella into a vampire.

However, Edward can't do math, so he hasn't figured that out yet.

In the meantime, now that he's let go of all morality, he's having a great time.

... And it's probably best we leave Edward looping on his own for another post. That got long.

[gayaethernaut]

Yes greysam

But also misty/marlton

You’ve got it! I’ll do Misty/Marlton in a separate post, but for now here’s some more GreySam shipping HCs!

• Who said “I love you” first

This was actually a hard one, but I ended up concluding that it would be Elizabeth. She’d let it slip out on accident during one of her signature rambles. Once she realizes it she’d get super nervous and flustered and start fumbling over her words even worse, until Sam reassures her by gently pulling her close and telling Elizabeth that she loves her too.

•Who would have the other’s picture as their phone background

Obviously this one would be some in some kind of modern AU, and it would definitely be Elizabeth. Mostly by default because I imagine Sam would still have a dangerous job in intelligence and she probably wouldn’t have a phone or a consistent phone she could do that with. Elizabeth’s background would definitely be a photo of Sam and Notso.

•Who leaves notes written in the fog on the bathroom mirror

I’m gonna break the rules for this one and say both, but mostly Sam. I think Elizabeth would leave like, little hearts or smiley faces, and based on the in-game intel I HC that Grey knows how to crack most ciphers so I imagine that Sam would leave full on coded messages. Sam can be a bit more expressive about certain things in writing than she can verbally, so I feel like she leaves a lot of cutesy notes for Elizabeth in coded messages such as “you’re so beautiful” or “I love you so much”. Sam might also leave notes in different languages depending on which ones Elizabeth knows as well.

•Who buys the other cheesy gifts

This one would depend on the context. During Sam’s time at Requiem, it would definitely be Elizabeth. However if we’re going with like a post-Cold-War-canon setting I would say Sam for sure. I imagine she still has her powers so Elizabeth can expect random presents appearing at her desk or in her lab at any given moment. Especially if Sam’s ever in the field for long periods of time, she’ll always seem to know whenever Elizabeth is missing her more than usual. Her desk is filled with little kick-knacks from all over the world (and maybe even different dimensions?) and Elizabeth likes to play with them/fidget with them whenever she’s feeling really anxious or needs to think hard about something.

•Who initiated the first kiss

I think that Elizabeth was the first to give Sam a kiss on the cheek (and she wasn’t wearing her heels so she had to stand on her tip-toes a little bit) but Sam definitely initiated the first kiss on the lips. Elizabeth was probably trying to confess her feelings to Sam and kept fumbling over her words and Sam figured it was the most efficient solution to ease Elizabeth’s worries and confess her own feelings all at once. She didn’t cut Elizabeth off either, she gently cupped Elizabeth’s face in her hands and waited for the other’s anxious words to trail off before she leaned in and kissed her- making sure they were each comfortable with what was happening.

•Who kisses the other awake in the morning

Sam is a military-trained early riser, and Elizabeth is… not a morning person. Sam honestly has no idea how Elizabeth has ever made it to work on time before she came along, or whenever she’s away. She’s found that the best strategy to awaken the grumbly scientist is to make her coffee ahead of time and set it on the nightstand before tenderly peppering Elizabeth’s face in little kisses until the other can’t help but wake up giggling and blushing. In the event that Elizabeth is already half-awake and won’t allow Sam to leave the bed and make coffee without whining in protest, Sam will resort to wrapping up Elizabeth in their comforter and carrying her to the kitchen so that they can stay together while she makes the coffee/breakfast.

•Who starts the tickle fights

This was the easiest one. Elizabeth starts them, and Sam finishes them. The former is always careful about it though- only when they’re home alone and only if Sam’s feeling well enough for it. That being said the tickle fights usually end with Sam letting out a little growl and scooping Lizzie up into the air- sometimes even with just one arm.

•Who asks if they can join the other in the shower

This one was a little tricky- I feel like the most common scenario is Sam going to take a shower and asking Elizabeth if she’d like to join her. Another thing I thought of was the mirror-fog idea from earlier- Sam leaves Elizabeth a little note in the fog that says “Knock on the shower wall three times if you’d like me to join you”.

•Who surprises the other in the middle of the work day with lunch

Not necessarily a “work day” but before at Requiem Elizabeth would usually bring lunch for Sam during her own lunch breaks. But in a post-canon setting, Sam will do that frequently for Elizabeth. The former BND agent took the time to memorize and learn the patterns of what foods Elizabeth tends to like on certain days- and Elizabeth is always pleasantly surprised every single time, no matter what.

•Who was nervous and shy on the first date

While Sam was probably feeling a little out of her element and nervous taking Elizabeth out on a date, her nerves quickly faded away once she saw how beautiful the other looked. Elizabeth on the other hand was probably an adorable gay mess with her little nervous rambles cranked up to eleven. Sam most likely took them somewhere fun to try and help Elizabeth ease up a little, like an arcade or an amusement park. By the end they were both laughing.

•Who kills/takes out the spiders

When I first thought about this one, I figured it would obviously be Sam- but then I remembered Elizabeth is a research biologist and most likely doesn’t have any issues with handling bugs. And while Sam is trained to handle anything in the field, there’s something about particularly large spiders that make her deeply uncomfortable- but she doesn’t quite remember or understand why (Zetsubou No Shima, anyone?). Elizabeth picks up on this right away and becomes the designated spider-remover.

•Who loudly proclaims their love when they’re drunk

I HC that Sam doesn’t drink, and while Elizabeth doesn’t drink very often she’s a bit of a lightweight when she does. Sam does get very embarrassed by Drunk Lizzie’s antics, but she also finds them adorable and appreciates the fact that Drunk Lizzie is a very happy and goofy lovestruck drunk.

Hope you enjoy! This was a ton of fun and I’ll have the Misty/Marlton version up as soon as I can!

[constellaj]

I will pay you up front if you can rewrite the Urban Jungle episode. Please, I am begging you

I love undergrowth and his character but the episode was just, awful

*Alright* I am going to approach this as if it is part of the original series; I won’t be making it stupid gay, changing the overall tone or messaging of the story, making it any rating past pg-13, etc etc

with that in mind: urban jungle feels like the episode where danny and sam should have started dating (going with sam x danny to fit with the ‘original series but good’ angle). the line “i always thought you ruled” is fucking banger so what we’re going to do is extend that out into the actual theme of the ep: sam and self-esteem

sam has friction between tuck already (vegetarian vs meat eater) and in the beginning of the ep we also are gonna bump up the friction between her and danny, with how she thinks his powers should be used for good and how he just wants a break etc etc. sam gets really caught up in activism and her friends kind of snap at her for it due to burnout, so they break up what was going to be a group movie night and sam goes back to her house alone while danny and tuck go to danny’s place.

i don’t want undergrowth to magically appear, and I don’t even need it to be anything to do with urbanization necessarily; instead let’s take a popular fan theory of summoning and combine it with the premise of the episode ‘what you want,’ where tucker gets ghost powers. let’s say that sam, while digging into the occult, is like ‘if i had ghost powers/plant powers/could drive out oil industries i would in a heartbeat’ and learns about a ghost she can summon (undergrowth). danny and tuck are busy playing doomed while she does this. undergrowth takes one look at her and is like “ohoho, i can tell you love plants just so much.” he will be manipulating her and preying on her rage and feelings of inadequacy for the majority of this episode

cool, undergrowth is here now. let’s keep the enslaving-people-into-plant-zombies thing, but instead of instantaneous let’s make it a little scarier, with creeping roots sinking into the water source and slowly moving through amity, bit by bit. danny is unaffected cause he’s a ghost, and he and tucker manage to realize something’s up with the fentons before tucker gets zombified too. they’ll run to check if sam is okay, and on first glance they’ll think she’s been zombied, but of course she isn’t in the same way everyone else is. she’s a host body for undergrowth, and she’s actually actively repressing his possession (shes had a lot of practice, working alongside danny), and she’s super bitter about literally everything they’re doing and kicks them out.

it has to be shown earlier in the episode that sam feels like a lot of what she does is performative/etc and that danny and tuck are in the wrong with treating her sorta like garbage.

i’m cutting the ice powers cause that’s dumb. instead we’ll have danny and tuck working together to try and find a solution, and learning (probably through old fenton records or tucker being smart) that liquid nitrogen can get rid of undergrowth until summoned again, so they have to go all the way back to the lab at casper high and hook up some machine or other to clear the town. (retroactively, let’s make one of the earlier arguments between them and sam take place during a lab, and throw in a sidebar about liquid nitrogen; lancer saying that it should be here, dash and kwan fucking around with it, danny just touching it cause hes ghost, etc, something like that) 

as they progress undergrowth/sam starts putting spores out, meaning tucker’s also getting infected, all while theyre fighting back these different plant people all in the town. plant people still retain some of their original personality and stuff as a joke though. insert joke about plant-paulina zombie-lumbering towards Phantom, creakily going “how about a kisss” and danny just, morphs back into Fenton, and she goes “ew. gross” and leaves. that kind of thing. it’s a lot of strategy and we get to see other characters interacting in a pseudo-dreamworld with danny and tucker, and a lot should focus on self-esteem or making them feel bad to drive the point home

also what needs to be shown earlier is sam’s crush on danny.

during the progression danny has to be getting really worked up about this and eventually let slip ‘and can you believe i was going to ask her to [x event, movie, dance, etc]’ and tucker like, balks. tucker says ‘she has had a crush on you for like two years man’ and danny is like “WHAT” and now, encouragement to get things done faster. course then dramatically tucker gets turned into a plant. here we learn that the plant people are mouthpieces of sam’s self esteem issues right cause tucker just goes “well why would you like her. she’s a sweaty goth girl. she’s too loud. she’s so bossy” which are all things that sam would have said about herself/danny would have said about sam earlier when they were fighting

so danny rushes to the school and grabs the liquid nitrogen but uh-oh, of course undergrowth/sam is already there ready to stop him. something something she probably heard his conversation with tucker through another plant person, maybe valerie on a hoverboard. anyway she wants to possess danny and make him a plant person and we get the “together we can rule / I always thought you ruled” line that was the only good part in the og episode. this inspires sam to break out of the undergrowth mindset partially but, naturally, she was just a pawn for undergrowth who’s been preying on her self-esteem issues this whole time, and so now he’s like “ugh well if you’re not easy to manipulate what’s the point. i have to take over the entire planet with plants now bye”

epic fight scene with danny and sam working together to blast the man with liquid nitrogen while sam slowly gets possessed/plantified. something something something, they run out of nitrogen before sam gets totally planted, ghost breath is very cold (also needs to be referenced earlier). it’s probably tucker’s idea, but danny gets to do a magic kiss so she comes back.

it’s super awkward and she punts him at first. but then on for the rest of the series they actually ARE dating and there’s no more weird back and forth drama about things. danny’s ‘ice powers’ are now just being able to slightly control his body temperature (jokes later on about him faking sick by artificially making a low temp). sam is never once weirdly sexualized and instead she’s lashing out because she thinks her friends don’t care about her as much as they care about each other. undergrowth isn’t giving sam special treatment, she just happened to be the easiest pawn to reach

[redinkofshame]

Arranged Marriage

Hipster AU did not spark joy, so I used the Arranged Marriage joker for day 3 of the @augustwritingchallenge. This is probably the last one I’ll do, unless I also do an arranged marriage for Cedric/Cassandra. It’s also my favorite one :D

The evanuris have survived to the dragon age, Fen'Harel included amongst them. In order to make peace with the free clans of elves a marriage is arranged between the Trickster and one of their own. Like all of Solas' plans, it goes awry.

1882 words, mature for smexiness but no actual hanky panky. Read on AO3

Wedding Night

“You still intend to go through with this, then?” Mythal asked.

Fen’Harel sighed, eyeing her reflection from where he stood surrounded by attendants. They made last minute adjustments to his wedding vestiments, buffed his nails, applied cosmetics. “I gave my word, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but even you must admit you have a proclivity for… last minute ‘tricks’. We must make peace with the free clans—”

“Easiest done with a marriage, and I am the only one amongst us who is yet unmarried, yes, I know,” he said, biting his tongue. He knew better than the rest of them how important this was; they continued to underestimated the power of the free clans.

“It’s merely surprising that you haven’t proposed some other crazy solution to avoid being tamed. You’ve been the lone wolf, all alone all these ages…”

He shooed away his attendants and sunk into the nearest chair. His hair dresser immediately made her move, beginning the bothersome process of brushing, curling, and braiding. An annoyance. A necessity. Long hair; the status symbol of a spoiled man who, supposedly, knew nothing of hard work, nor manual labor. No more a threat than a bunch of unaligned clans who could scarcely produce mages.

That is, of course, until he used this marriage to forge an alliance with his spouse’s people. The final key to in his plot to take down the Evanuris once and for all.

“All good things must come to an end,” he said with feigned disinterest. “Remind me the name of who I’m to wed again? That man from the garden with the curly hair?”

Mythal gave him a scathingly admonishing look. “Really, Fen, the least you could do is remember your intended’s name.” She kept up the look for another moment but when he gave no response she simply sighed. “You’re thinking of the ambassador they sent to announce that your bride was chosen by vote of the free clans at Arlathven.”

“She is important to them, then? A powerful mage?” he asked hopefully.

Mythal snorted. “Hardly. They say she has some skill with the arcane, but she’s better known for her sewing— no, embroidery.” He grunted in disappointment and she continued, almost to herself. “She’s no particular beauty, either. I can’t image she’s the best they’ve got to offer. Frankly, I’m tempted to take offense at the offering, but we already granted them permission to choose for themselves…”

He waved his hand dismissively. “It hardly matters what she looks like, so long as they care for her enough to lay down their arms.”

“I suppose. Her name is Keria, by the way, of Lavellan’s clan. Do try to remember it during the ceremony.” He felt her eyes on him, but kept his head bowed as his hair was adorned with golden toggles. “You know that you will have to gift her with her vallaslin during the ceremony as well.”

“Of course.”

Mythal stepped closer and lowered her voice. “A true vallaslin, Fen’Harel.”

The girl working his hair froze. He didn’t have to look at her to know that she, as all his servants, his “slaves”, wore a convincing imitation of his vallaslin on her face. He’d marked each of them with enough magic to keep them safe from the others, but it held none of the controlling or manipulation that a true vallaslin held.

He saw to it that his people followed him voluntarily, not due to fear or power. Many of them were agents of his grand plan playing a role until it was time to strike at the heart of their oppressors.

None of which Mythal was supposed to know, of course.

He met her eyes. “I understand.”

She held his gaze for a long moment, a silent threat, gauging his sincerity. At last, she nodded.

~~~~~

He remembered the name, of course, the ceremony lines, and the spell to apply a proper vallaslin to her pale face in front of everyone. Mythal’s assessment had been harsh — she was pretty enough. Her unruly black hair was short, of course, as was her place. He supposed she would grow it out, now. Her eyes were a shockingly bright blue, when he could get a good look at them, but she largely kept them averted. Her gown was a work of art. The cut of it was common enough, classic, but every inch of it was covered in painstaking embroidery. Her doing?

Not that her beauty mattered; he cared only whether or not she would become his willing ally in their fight, or if he’d have to use her new position as leverage. He’d expected her to fear him as the clans always did — with good reason. He was Mythal’s general, the attack dog she released whenever they stepped out of line or needed to be taught a lesson. At first he thought her unwillingness to meet his eyes was because she was afraid, or worse, because she loathed him. He would not hold it against her.

Surprisingly it was shy glances and flustered smiles he was met with. A blushing bride indeed.

The day was filled with much pomp and posturing, dancing and music and feasting and well-wishers and veiled insults and vague threats. Elgar’nan and the others were jumpy, so certain he was going to ruin this for them that they never considered it had been his idea to begin with. It was many hours before he and his new wife were able to retreat to his suite.

Or ‘their’ suite, he supposed, though he’d happily grant her separate chambers if she requested it. His rooms were plenty large enough for the two of them, but he didn’t relish the loss of this ability to move freely.

He left her for a moment upon entering to get familiar with the space as he stepped into the dressing chamber. He sighed in the relative privacy.

It was fortunate that Keria seemed to be a willing — perhaps eager — partner in this charade, but thus far she seemed too timid of a girl to bring honestly into his machinations. It would take some time to discern best how to proceed from here. In the mean time it was his wedding night…

He was certainly willing to bed her, but he would not press the issue. They needed to discuss rules and freedoms, what would be asked of her and what would not. What she could ask of him. He striped out of his vestiments and pulled on a pair of simple sleep pants. He did not bother with a shirt. He stepped back into the room.

“I think we should discuss our expectations…” He tailed off, not seeing her immediately. He found her in the dimly lit bedchamber, sitting on her heels at the end of the oversized bed, sheets pooling around her hips. She was naked except for the sash from her wedding gown tied loosely about her waist. When she saw him enter she raised to her knees, spread wide, and the blanket fell from her lap, exposing her fully. Her teasing smile beckoned him closer.

Well, then.

All thoughts of planning left him as his blood spiked, and he went to her. He stopped when he stood at the edge of the bed, inches from her, and pointedly looked her offering up and down. He reevaluated his own underestimation of her beauty.

“Lovely…” he murmured. His hand dropped and she arched her back in anticipation, her nipples tight, but it was the tail of the embroidered sash he took. “Did you make it yourself?”

To his surprise he laughed and shoved him playfully, illiciting a snort from him. “I did, in fact.” He ran his thumb over the intricate stitches and she shifted her weight nervously. “Do you, um, know a lot about embroidery?”  

“I don’t know much of the textile arts, I’m afraid,” he admitted, letting the silk slip through his fingers. “Perhaps you could teach me.”

She smiled coquettishly. “Oh, there’s a great deal I could teach you, Fen’Harel.” She sensually unknotted the sash.

He forced his eyes up to hers, determined to seem unaffected. “And here I thought I was wed to someone sweet and innocent.”

“Sweet? Sometimes. But innocent?” Keria flipped the sash up and over his head, where it settled like a scarf. “Certainly not.”

She tugged the ends of the sash and pulled him in for a kiss and he went easily, intrigued by this woman. He felt the brush of her lips but didn’t realize in time that she whispered an incantation, though his eyes flickered open just in time to see the hidden runes among the embroidered flowers light up, paralyzing him instantly. Her hand dashed beneath the covers and came up with a dagger that she plunged towards his chest.

The vallaslin on her face lit up as he activated it and staggered back, spell broken. She was frozen in place, mid-strike. His heart hammered in his chest in a way it hadn’t in decades, a mortal danger he rarely faced unwittingly.

No mortal blade could hurt him, but she would know that. Still shaken, he wrenched the dagger from her hand, careful not to nick either of them as she grunted, struggling to break free. He appraised the weapon, recognizing it easily even without the ravens in the hilt. It indeed would have been able to kill him, and was undoubtedly coated in enough poison to finish the job even if her aim ad been off. Smart.

“Dirthamen sent you, then?”

She still fought her bindings. He released her just enough that she could answer his question. “Yes.”

He tilted his head. She’d answered too quickly. He could see her tells, now that he knew what she really was. “A lie. Interesting. I’m only supposed to believe it was him.”

“You’re supposed to be dead,” snarled his darling wife.

“Ah, a fair point. Me, murdered on my wedding night, and Dirthamen to blame. To what end?” She answered by spitting at him and he paced as he thought it over, able to see how it would have played out — Mythal would exact justice before Elgar’nan could stop her, and Dirthamen’s twin would retaliate. The rest of the evanuris would choose sides. War, distrust, ample opportunity for more little assassinations.

A simple enough plan. One that damn near worked.

He lifted the dagger and it hovered in the air between them. With a twist of his hand he rendered the shining, poisonous thing inert, watching as it turned dull and clattered uselessly to the floor.

Keria looked like she was ready to tear him apart with her teeth instead. “It doesn’t matter what you do with me,” she growled. “Others will succeed where I have failed. You cannot stop us all! Your days are numbered, Dread Wolf — you and every other evil, murderous, slaving evanuris!”

Wordlessly he walked to a wardrobe, feeling her eyes following him as she waited for him to strike her down. How much of her shaking was from anger, he wondered, and how much from fear?

He pulled out a dressing robe and turned back to his bride, every inch of her radiating defiance despite the hold he still had on her.

He tossed her the robe. “Get dressed, vhenan. We need to talk.”

[writerwrites]

Yuánfèn | 02

Ch. 2: Retrouvailles: “An overwhelming feeling of happiness caused by seeing someone after a long separation.”

Summary: When you’ve lost everything and try to run away from your problems, you keep finding a way back to the one person who completely understands. Can you make another person happy with a broken heart?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader Chapter Word Count: 3.3k Chapter Warnings: Smut - 18+ Only - Minors DNI, male masturbation, one night stand mentioned but not detailed, slow burn, grief, fluff

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The first week Steve took it slow, only texting you when you texted first or if he hadn’t heard from you at all. He’d taken your advice, balancing his time between preparing the team for another altercation with the Maximoff twins and finding out as much as he could about them. It was a welcome distraction from the lack of news on his hunt for the Winter Soldier. Natasha was the only one that seemed to notice that he would periodically glance at his watch or his phone and go quiet for a moment before getting back to work. When she finally cornered him, he felt like he should have seen it coming. Arms akimbo and eyebrow quirked, she called him out with no hesitation, “You’ve got a secret.” 

“Don’t we all?” Steve could immediately feel the regret in challenging her, busying himself with packing up his bag to head to his room and shower after a long morning of training. Nat didn’t hesitate to follow suit, tagging along with her own bag as she took long strides to keep up with him, even slipping into the elevator before he could. “How’s the search for the Maximoff twins going?”

Nat stood in front of the panel before he could select a floor. “Who have you been texting? Finally ask that SHIELD agent out, Sharon, or is the moping about a certain fossil?” She raised an eyebrow, her fingers tapping her arm impatiently.

Sighing, Steve reached behind her and hit the button. “Neither. I’ve just got a lot on my plate.” Before she could make another snarky comment, he asked. “Clint went home. Did you check in on him?” Though he didn’t use the tone of encouraging her to mind her own business, as he respected the effort she was putting in to build their friendship, he couldn’t help but hope she’d drop the subject.

“Yeah, I’ve checked in. Clint’s good, just like Doc said he’d be. Cho’s kind of a genius and it’s a relief to know that there’s someone that can piece us mere mortals back together when we’re out there saving the world with you.” Steve nodded as he listened, like a captain listening to a report on one of his troops, but his shoulders went ridged with her comment about Dr. Cho. She reminded him too much of Tony and not enough of Dr. Erskine. Luckily, it went unnoticed as she stepped out of the elevator with him and they walked toward their rooms.

There weren’t many memories in Steve’s life, even before the serum, where things simply went black. Taking a beating from his brainwashed best friend was one of them. Steve could picture the metal arm pulling back, the sting of pain as the bones in his face shattered over and over, and could even recall the conversation between swings, but he knew there were moments that were just blank from the concussion- especially after Bucky pulled him from the water. The fading image of him walking away, the ache of being put onto a stretcher, the gentle touch of small hands on his swollen face as the hum of medical machinery tried to pull him back to reality. It didn’t happen for days, but there were moments when he could still hear her talking to him or someone else in the room and always gave his hand three small squeezes before saying her goodbyes.

Steve had been in his head, remembering the music that woke him up and Sam waiting there for him. They’d stopped at Steve’s door, closest to the elevator, and Natasha pretended not to notice how quiet he’d been until she finally added, “Clint’s probably going to take another week before coming back to work, but we’re going out for drinks tonight. Are you thinking about coming with us this time? Might help you clear your head.”

“I’ll think about it.” It was a surprisingly genuine response. He didn’t need to get drunk to have a good time with friends and knew Sam could use the break from hunting a ghost and was itching to see Nat again. There was no doubt in Steve’s mind that if he said yes that Kristen from Statistics would be there and he wasn’t going to open that door, let alone walk through it.

“Aren’t you full of surprises today.” With a slight smirk she kept walking toward her room, calling back, “We’re heading out at eight. Take a nap old guy.”

By the time he was alone in the shower, the idea of going out with the team seemed all the more appealing. Regardless of Natasha still trying to set him up with random colleagues. He was lonely and reaching one of those breaking points of needing to find some comfort to balance out a minute sense of normalcy to his bizarre life, be it good conversation or bad sex. The water cascaded down his toned body and he brushed away the beads of dew and bubbles of soap that trailed down the lines of his muscles before reaching for himself. A part of him that was still very much stuck in the 1940’s hated this need, always feeling some level of shame in finding comfort in the palm of his hand. Typically, these moods resulted in an act of non-sexual frustration, a stress reliever that was easiest to address with his fist and a punching bag.

He told himself that he wasn’t the kind of person to think of someone in particular that way during the solitary act. When he did ‘indulge’, his thoughts had always trailed back to the singular heated kiss with Peggy Carter. But now, with one arm on the tiled wall and the other stroking his length, Steve took an uncommonly slow pace and his mind went to the little things that he’d thought about over and over throughout the week. Small warm hands on his skin, her hand in his. How small would her hands look wrapped around him? How soft would she feel? The smell of her hair and the way she clung to him in a simple hug. Did she know how warm she felt as she held on so tightly to him? Steve gripped himself more tightly, strokes still slow and steady, as he worked out the loneliness with a twist of his wrist. Thoughts passing from little moments and his own stolen glances. The sound of her little hums when she was thinking or satisfied with a solution she’d come up with, how she always bit her lip when she was in a room full of people. Then there was the way she held her breath every time she managed to make eye contact with him as his hands moved over the lace panties she'd passed him to pack. Was she always wearing something like that under her scrubs? Did she do this, think about him getting off to the thought of her in them? The thought of the doctor slipping her hand between her thighs while she wore nothing but lace, scrolling through their messages, and thinking of him finished the soldier off. A long deep groan of her name echoed in the bathroom as he made a mess of the shower wall and floor.

Steve was panting, exhausted but satisfied, as the water washed all evidence down the drain. Slowly, he started to realize what he’d done, but the familiar weight of guilt couldn’t settle in as he realized he wanted something other than a past he couldn’t have. As he dried off, Steve tried to rationalize the thought away, they’d had a nice moment between two colleagues and she was undeniably pretty. It was easy for his mind to drift there, he thought, to think about someone who was naturally beautiful and kind when they were so wholly unaware of it. As he got dressed, Steve put a pin in it, telling himself that even if there was a little spark, she needed a friend. That thought alone seemed to settle the decision to go out or not for him. He chose to drag Sam along for Nat’s sake and make the most of it all.

Sam and Nat were hitting it off well, making Steve wonder what was really going on between her and Clint. The pair of them together had been a force and, despite not feeling ready to date- especially someone as modern as Lilian-with-a-lip-piercing from Accounting, he found himself heading out with her for the night. She was chatty and outgoing, and he found some relief in her questions about his past or job. It stopped him from having to open up on a deeper level when that wasn’t what they were doing. What they were doing was rough and exhausting. She was vocal about what she wanted; hair pulled, ass spanked, fast thrusts, and a firm no kissing rule. He obliged, getting his pleasure from the sounds of her own and his name on her lips, but by the third round she was exhausted and he was left thinking about how he’d never made love to a woman.

Slipping out of Lilian’s place with less awkwardness than he’d expected, Steve checked his phone. He still hadn’t heard from you all day, and it was 2 am in New York, which meant a new morning for you in Spain. He wondered if he should’ve asked Sam for an update on Bucky at the bar, but hesitated to reach out and ask at this hour. Despite socializing and the workout he’d just had, he was too in his head to go to sleep. Spinning his keys around his finger he found himself riding his bike over to the small, quiet apartment with books and a hungry fish.

As if you knew he’d turned up in your space, he heard his text tone just as he was screwing the top back onto the fish food. “I know you said that if I needed anything, to just ask. Probably didn’t expect a text this early and I’m guessing you’re probably asleep… this is so dumb and a big ask, but…” Steve stared at the screen, eyebrows drawn together as he wondered if the smartphone had eaten a text or had some feature that shortened longer messages that he didn’t know how to open. He watched the typing bubbles pop up again and waited, taking a seat at one of the two bar stools at your kitchen counter, the other containing a pile of your neatly stacked mail from the week. “I know I didn’t think I’d get through the goodbyes alone, but I managed. Thanks for the encouragement. It's everything else that I realized I just can’t do alone. The packing… all the pictures. There’s so many memories and I can’t take everything back to my place in New York- my place is just too small.”

Steve clicked the ‘call’ icon and waited for you to pick up on the other end. He thought about his mother’s funeral and how Bucky had been there for him, told him he knew he could manage alone but didn’t have to. His stomach twisted with emotion and then the call went to voicemail.

You didn’t expect him to see your panicked messages until later in the morning. You sat there, runny nose and bleary eyed, staring at the name on your screen. Five minutes, just staring, no text response, no new call- and then he was back, a FaceTime call this time. Pulling your hood over your head so he couldn’t see how disheveled you were, wiping your face on your sleeve, you answered with your face hidden mostly between your knees where you rested your chin and the hood. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.” The apology that excluded the ‘I’m sorry’ was still very obviously an apology.

“You didn’t.” You were unconvinced, his hair was a little mussed, clothes wrinkled. He could tell that it seemed like you hadn’t fully thought through what you were going to ask of him, so he offered up a different question.“What do you have left to do in Spain? We’ve managed to stay out of trouble over here, just for you.”

The soldier tried to study your expression, noticing the glimmer in your eyes that wasn’t just from the sunrise. “I have to pack up what I want to take home. I was thinking I could get a scanner and digitize the pictures, but I don’t know how long that will take.” You let out a puffed up sigh, “I don’t think I have the heart to sell the place, but I’m so bad at taking vacations that it seems like a waste to keep it.”

“Don’t sell it. If your gut is telling you to keep it, go with your gut. There are other options, AirBnB or renting it out.” You sniffled, burying your face further in your arms and legs, leaving Steve to stare at the view behind you. “I know I’m getting a sideways view here, but it looks really beautiful.”

That managed to squeeze a small smile out of you as you nodded and turned the phone toward the balcony to give yourself a moment to wipe away the tears and snot once more. “Yeah, under any other circumstances it would be a proverbial paradise. You probably need a vacation more than me.”

“You’re probably right.” Steve laughed softly, trying to coax you out of what looked like the tail end of a lot of crying. “Send me the location, I’m curious what’s around the place.”

With a long hum you sent him your location. “Not going to send Stark tech to stalk me, are you?”

“I’m sure if Tony wanted to keep tabs on you he was already doing it.” Steve clicked on the marker and looked around the place, its stone streets and little shops. “Doesn’t look like there’s any modern shops, as cute as all these little places are. Where are you going to find what you need to scan the pictures?”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Just using my phone’s camera, I guess.” You looked at him as you watched the colors reflect off his face, blues and greens that mirrored the same flecks of color in his eyes. He probably didn’t even realize how beautiful he could look just staring at a phone. You relaxed a little, having someone to talk to for the first time in a week and let out a quiet yawn. “Is 8 am too early for a nap?”

Steve laughed and your face ached as you nearly smiled again. He bit his bottom lip, tempted to tell you that it was nice to see you smiling when he knew your heart was hurting, but he could already hear how cheesy it sounded and instead, chose banter. “Is 2 am too early to still be awake?”

“Go to bed. You know the second that you all even think you know where the twins are you’ll be on a Quinjet to find them. You can’t be pulling all nighters, even if you’re a super soldier. Doctor’s orders.” You added with a small smirk.

“Even if I headed back to the Tower this very minute, I bet I’d still beat Nat back. I think she left the bar with my friend, Sam.”

You knew Sam, just a little from one brief patch up. He had the same charm Steve had, clever and driven. “Nat and Sam? Good for her. He seems like a great guy and he could keep her on her toes.” With his phone so close to his face you couldn’t help but wonder, “Wait, it’s too quiet for you to be at a bar. Steven Grant Rogers, are you FaceTiming me from the bathroom of an O.N.S.?”

A part of you wanted to laugh, the thought of Steve just sleeping with some random person from a bar. Another part of you, the one that had a hint of a crush on the sweet guy who helped you when you were desperately in need of a friend, felt a pang of jealousy. “I’m not sure what an O.N.S. is, but I’m actually at yours feeding your nameless fish and named plants. You really got to figure out a name for him before I do.”

Somehow, a smile found your face, this big hero wanting to name a fish and zipping over to your place to feed him at 2 am. “If you’re too tired to head back to the tower, you can crash at my place. It’s late, you look like you could fall asleep at any moment. The bed’s clean, towels are in the bathroom cabinet, and coffee and it’s fixings are right over the pot. I’m not fancy enough for a Keurig, sorry.”

You watched him stop scrolling, his eyes meeting yours as you rambled. He didn’t look tired, he looked disheveled but perfect, as always, but it was cute to see him try to flatten out his hair nevertheless. “You forgot about the books.”

“I thought that was a given.” You stuck your tongue out before yawning one more time. “I’m serious though, best to stay off the road if you’re tired. Besides, the bills are paid even though no one’s there to use anything. I’ll probably be gone another week.”

Steve sighed, not in some defeatist way of you being right but, to your surprise at the mention of how much longer you would be gone, “One more week…”

“Feels like I’ve been gone for months.” You looked away, eyes stinging as the weight of your reality settled on your shoulders again. There was no one left in this world to actually miss you. The truth was that despite being in this beautiful place, you couldn’t help but feel all the more hollow and alone in it. If it wasn’t for the little check ins you would’ve never managed to drag yourself through the house, to the lawyers, or out to the shops to eat. “I’m not texting you too much am I?”

“Not at all.” He replied quickly, then worried it might have been too fast. He could tell you were off somewhere else, wondering if you heard him or if it even mattered. The way you clung to him just a few feet away from where he currently sat, a tight hug now in the forefront of his mind. Before he knew what he was saying, the thought spilled out. “I wish I could give you another hug. I know it’s not easy to do this alone.”

The confession choked you up, sniffling you nodded, “I wish you were here to give me a hug too. A1 hug game, big guy.” Despite the tacked on joke, tears silently spilled from your cheeks and you were eager to get off the phone so he didn’t have to hear the incoming wave of heavy breathless weeping. “Get some sleep, Steve. I’ll keep texting signs of life.”

He nodded, eyebrows knit together with concern and curiosity, “We’ll catch up soon, darling. Goodnight.”

Steve took you up on the offer, showering and climbing into your bed somewhere around 3 am with one of the other books that had been stacked on your bedside table. He hardly comprehended a single word, replaying the conversation as he drifted into a heavy sleep, overwhelmed by the sense of happiness in just seeing your face through a screen as he was surrounded by the comforting scent of you. For the first time since seeing Bucky, he didn’t dream of his best friend falling off the train or the dance he never had.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I would love feedback from you. Do you think these two miss each other? Are they crushing or just some horny adults? We shall see, we shall see!

Also, if it wasn’t obvious: In this house we stan bisexual Cap and ship Sam x Nat over Bruce x Nat.

As my followers know I have an obscenely demanding job, but I always try my best to keep you posted on if there will be a delay in a chapter posting. This series should be posting every Sunday until it finishes. Also, while I do keep Reader vague, I’m a Latina writer and I write fics I want to read.

Divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics​​

I will be reblogging with tags, send an ask if you’d like to be added either to the series or to my overall tag list.

[aqua-the-smiter]

Wind Guide You

Chapter 2 - The Runaway

Arcee was just out for a walk. That’s all.

Why couldn’t she ever catch a break?

Her peds crunched along the gravelly ground and her servos were clasped behind her back as she slowly trudged forward, going nowhere in particular, just out to clear her processor. The land was barren and surrounded by cliffs and ridges, and the sky was overcast, swathed in a blanket of grey clouds that took away most of the shadows. It was calm if a bit gloomy, and the wind whispered over the ground, occasionally flicking pebbles.

The two-wheeler guessed it was just one of those days where everything was dull and a bit slow. She could tell some of the other ‘bots felt it as well, and seeing as there were no present emergencies to tend to, she’d come out here. Partially for some peace, partially just because she wanted to be alone, and (though she’d never admit it out loud) she still felt a need deep in her spark to silently mourn Cliffjumper.  

Maybe it was silly. Maybe she should have gotten over it by now. She had, somewhat, but something in her still ached everything she thought of him. Thus, she took small chunks of her time every day to grieve, and it slowly minimized her pain by degrees, bit by bit. It helped.

What didn’t, however, was finding a Decepticon passed out among the stones.

“What in the  Pit? ” Arcee asked herself out loud, staring down at the dull silver chassis of Megatron’s right servo bot.

Starscream.

At first she thought he was dead. He was lying as still as the rocks he was surrounded by, but as she watched him, she noticed like bits of movement: a wing flicking, a digit scraping, a ped twitching. No, he was still among the living, unfortunately.

She stood frozen, staring at the motionless form of the seeker, the very ‘Con who had murdered the bot she was out here mourning. Her spark clenched in anger, and she let one of her servos turn into a blaster before backing up and lowering her arm, trying to calm herself. It would be stupid to just shoot him right off the bat.

  Think, Arcee.

Primus, she wanted to just shoot him in the faceplates and be done with it. He was the reason Cliff was gone, and he’d put them through so much grief besides that, both on Earth and off. Her spark seethed, even the small bit of pity she held for him not enough to quench her desire to pay him the same mercy he’d paid Cliff; that meant none at all.

She took a better look at him. He looked...ragged. Worn out, like he’d been flying solo for a while, the kind of wear that couldn’t be faked. Her optics widened when they landed on his chest plate. The Decepticon insignia was gone, and in its place were scratches. She thought hard. How long ago had their last battle with the ‘Cons been?

Somehow, by some miracle, Starscream had defected between the aftermath of then and now. What else could it be? Maybe a trap, but something like this wasn’t Megatron’s style. Sure, he could’ve been kicked out, but if he had been, most likely, if she even found him, he’d be a corpse. He decidedly was  not  that.

She sat next to his still chassis, thinking. What to do with a possibility renegade ‘con? Primus, her luck was shoddy.

She was oblivious to how long she’d been there, feeling the cold breeze over her chassis, listening to it howl between the empty places in the rocks. Starscream did nothing more than twitch.

  What to do, what to do?

It would be easiest to just terminate his aft right there, pull the thorn that was him out of their collective sides right away. Nearly all of her  wanted  to, and yet...that little drop of pity still yanked at the edge of her processor. She didn’t know exactly why, but something about the ‘Con just made her feel bad for him. Maybe it was the desperate way he vied for Megatron’s favor, maybe it was the fact he was always getting whacked in the ankles every time something was going right, or maybe it was just that he was excellent at making  that  particular sad face. There was something just...pathetic about him, and she granted him a bit of mercy for it.

  Wait…

Call Prime. Of course, the simplest solutions were often the best, and she berated herself for not having thought of it sooner. It should have been the first thing that sprung to mind.

Maybe she was still much angrier about Cliffjumper than she thought.

-Optimus, it’s Arcee.- she said over her comms.

-We were just starting to get worried about you.-  came the reply of his usual firm but kind tone.  -Where have you been for so long?-

-Like I said, just out for a walk. You’ll never believe who I found.- she baited, her voice unintentionally taking on the same excited tone as Miko’s whenever Wheeljack came around.

-Did you run into trouble? If you've found an energon mine, come back, don’t try and clear it yourself.- Prime warned, sounding for all the worlds like a gently chiding father.

-That was  one time  , I’m  fine. I didn’t go out looking for trouble, it found me, in the form of Starscream. He’s recharging on the ground right next to me, all dinged up. What do you want me to do with him?-  she asked, getting straight to the point, and trying not to sound too willing to offline him.

-Starscream?-  The Prime paused, just a little bit alarmed  -Are you sure he’s alone? Is there anything off about him?-

-He scratched his insignia off his chest. Just a bunch of claw marks there now. It looks like he’s defected. He’s definitely still alive.- Arcee confirmed.

-Scratched the insignia off his chest.- Optimus repeated slowly, the gears in his processor whirling. That sounded like a sure sign of defection. Was it too much to hope for? He has long since seen potential in bringing Starscream over to the Autobots, and now might be his chance.  -Give me your coordinates and wait there with him. I’ll meet you there.-

-Personally?-  Arcee asked in surprise.  -Are you sure?-

  -I’m sure. Don’t worry, I won’t come alone.-

-Alright.- She relented, berating herself. This was Optimus Prime. There was nothing to worry about.

<>{◇}<>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  The familiar green spirals of the groundbridge gave way to the figures of Prime, Ratchet and Bulkhead. Arcee rose to her peds when she saw them, raising an arm in greeting. Starscream still rested next to her, optics firmly offlined. She resisted the urge to give him a swift kick and ran over to her comrades.

   “Hey ‘Cee!” Bulkhead called to her. “Where’d you dig up Screamer?”

  “He was on the floor when I got here.” Arcee replied, hands on her hips as the four of them made their way over to the recharging seeker. She nudged him with the toe of her ped as the others looked on. “And if you’ll look to your right you’ll see the Decepticon’s possible ex-commander, passed out cold.” she gestured to him with a servo.

  “He looks like a Predacon chewed him.” Ratchet said, eyeing him warily. “Probably been on his own for a while now. Almost definitely has an energon deficiency.”

   “You can tell all that from looking at him?” Arcee questioned, raising an optic ridge.

  “More or less. I’ve been at this for a long time, you know.” Ratchet said, his tone implying a lecture if this conversation kept rolling

   “So...what are we going to do with him? We can’t just leave old Screamer here, can we?” Bulkhead asked.

   “Who says we can’t?” Arcee spat. “If we take him with us, he becomes even more of our problem then he already is.”

   “We’re not leaving him.” Optimus interjected, his voice having an air of finality.

   “Why?!” Arcee exclaimed, failing to tamp down her anger. “What could we possibly do with  Starscream of all bots?!”

  Optimus gave her one of his looks that could possibly make even Unicron himself feel guilty. “We could help him, make him one of us. Show him the mercy he was never granted from Megatron.”

   “And that he never granted Cliffjumper!”

  “If we pull him to us, he’ll never be in a position to do what he did to Cliffjumper again.” he replied coolly. Arcee said nothing, just crossed her arms and turned away.

   There was no argument after that. Optimus was determined, and he made a good point. They brought Starscream to the base, dragging him home like an abandoned kitten found on the side of the road.

<>{◇}<>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Starscream’s red optics flew open and were greeted to complete darkness and silence. He felt strange, and it took him a few moments to realize he wasn’t hallucinating or shaking from energon starvation anymore. That should have been comforting, but it only shot him through with fear. Someone had gone through some effort to take care of him. Had Megatron found him? Was he back in the belly of the Pit that was the Nemesis?

His head whipped back and forth trying to get some kind of grip on his surroundings but it was black as pitch. He tried to sit up, but his wrists and ankles were tied down to the berth. Megatron must have found him when he collapsed, there was no other explanation. He was probably thinking up some new, horrifically creative way to ensure his loyalty, or wanted him for some nightmarish way to end his life. His spark was hammering inside it’s chamber.

His bonds wouldn’t break no matter how hard he strained at them, but that could possibly be because he was too weakened after so much time alone and with no energon. He felt his optics well up with washer fluid as his spark pounded, so loud in his audials he would’ve sworn anyone outside this...place could hear it writhing in his chest as he started to shake and quiver.

An audial-splitting shriek tore from his voice box as he tried to tear free of his bonds, his back arching as he struggled.  

He couldn’t do this again.

[florenceandthemachine]

TUMBLR FUCKED UP SOME OF MY ASK POSTS I AM SO SORRY ANYWAY 

@buckleydiazs​ asked:

talk to me about eddie and chris asking buck to move in, pls and thank u 🥰

Their first unplanned night together starts off with a text message.

Ironically enough, it’s not even a message between Eddie and Buck—it’s between Buck and Maddie. Eddie is all smiles as he pulls his truck onto the highway, Buck in the passenger seat, laughing easily at some story Eddie was telling. It was nice. It was easy, easier than most of the relationships Eddie had ever had before, but that wasn’t surprising—at least, not anymore, not with Buck.

Once Buck had gotten the stick out of his ass, Eddie realized how easily the two of them would get along almost immediately. Buck was... well, he was a far better person than Eddie was, and Eddie would be the first to admit that, but Buck seemed to be oblivious to the fact that he could basically out shine the sun with one of his big toothy smiles.

Their relationship was unique, certainly; they had survived things that went beyond the real of “regular people”; tsunamis, earthquakes, bombs, and most stressful of all (weirdly enough), a lawsuit. somehow, the lawsuit was the straw that broke the back on their friendship—Eddie had finally pulled his head out of his ass, realized how miserable his life had been without Bucky, and asked him out on a proper date a week after Buck's first call back on the team.

Though they spent a lot of time together as friends, and that had only grown after their first official ‘date’, they had been carpooling out of necessity for the week—Bobby had been good enough to match their schedules up while Buck’s Jeep was in the shop—and Eddie insisted that it wasn’t too much of a detour to shuttle Buck back and forth to work.

The mood in the truck was easy and light, and Buck was still laughing when he pulled his phone from his pocket, tapping at the screen a few times—and like someone had switched on a vacuum, the good mood was sucked through the window in less than a second.

“It’s Maddie. She says Taylor Kelly is at my apartment complex. Apparently there was a pretty big drug bust in the building across the way, she has her van camped out in our lot.”

And, well, Eddie wasn’t about to tolerate that, wasn’t about to tolerate anything that made Buck unhappy, anything that could suck the joy out of him in an instant, for reasons that he chose not to dive too deep into. He focused instead on the problem (and yeah, Taylor Kelly was a problem with a capital B), and what he figured was the easiest solution.

“Oh. Well, then you’re staying at our place tonight.”

As expected, Buck started up a whole litany of protests. It was a little sad, Eddie thought, how eager Buck was to talk himself out of a good time, and if he didn’t have the backup of a year of knowing Buck as well as he did, Eddie might have actually taken his ramblings at face value.

As it was, though, he had an ace in the hole. A surefire way to get Buck to shut up and accept some good in his life. He didn’t like to play it, but he knew that he had to as soon as Buck mentioned “I’ll just stay at the firehouse tonight, it’s really no issue, I’ll order take out, and—”

“Buck, it’s fine. Chris has been begging me to invite 'his Buck’ over for dinner for a week now anyway.”

“...oh. Okay.”

Was it wrong for Eddie to use his son so easily, knowing that Buck was as wrapped around Chris’ finger to the degree that nearly rivaled himself? Probably. Could Eddie bring himself to care? Nope.

Especially not when Chris basically launched himself into Bucks arms, completely overjoyed that Buck was here for a “surprise sleepover”. 

Dinner had gone off without a hitch, with Chris easily dominating most of the conversation, rattling off facts, figures, stories from school, information about his friends, and Buck had eaten it up. 

Eddie had found himself staring at Buck—more than once—with a little bit of a dopey look on his face, he was sure, as Buck got more and more animated, making Christopher laugh, telling stories of his own, and he hadn’t even bothered to look away when Buck caught him staring.

Buck was a blusher. Eddie loved it.

Now, though, Chris had disappeared to brush his teeth and put on his pajamas, and Eddie and Buck were working in companionable quiet as they started to clean the table.

"You know, if Taylor being at my apartment means I get to spend the evening with my two favorite guys...” Buck said with a smile, closing the fridge as he leaned against it, keeping an ear out for Chris as he turned the faucet in the bathroom on. “...I’ll have to invite her over next time.”

Eddie shrugged, gesturing vaguely with a spoon, though he couldn’t keep the smile off of his face as he rose a brow. “Buck, you know you don’t need excuses, right? You’re allowed to like this. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I am as wrapped around your finger as you are Chris’s.”

Buck was blushing again, and that was all the encouragement Eddie needed to step forward, his arms wrapping around Buck as Buck started to speak again. “You... you know the feeling is mutual, right?” he asked, and Eddie felt himself light up. “And I... don’t really want to wait for a next time to spend some time with you either.”

Buck wasn’t sure which God was on his side, but either way, he was immensely thankful that Chris didn’t barge in until long after Eddie and Buck had separated, even if they were still breathing a little heavily.

--

The next unexpected visit, it turns out, was only four weeks and three planned dates later. 

Buck had had many a sleepless night after the tsunami, but after the lawsuit, his nightmares had become even worse, more intense, more real. There were nights where he had to tell himself, ten times, that Chris was okay, that he was alive, and then there were nights like tonight, where he let the fear outweigh the guilt and he called Eddie.

(It was probably telling that he was never afraid of his own death—only Chris’. If he had a therapist, he would probably bring that up, but... well, therapy had never been a great idea for Buck before.)

To his credit, Eddie hadn’t let it ring even twice before picking up. 

“Buck, Chris is okay. He’s okay. You saved him, Buck, and I can never thank you enough for that.”

“Ed—he was right there, and I lost him, and I—”

“He is okay. Buck, seriously, he’s okay. Here, you should come over. See for yourself?”

“What? No.” Buck may have been coming out of a nightmare, but even then, he knew not to risk disturbing Eddie more than he absolutely had to.

“Buck, whatever thoughts are swirling around in that head, you better, get your admittedly very attractive ass over here right now.”

...well, he couldn’t argue with that. 

Eddie could feel his heart break when he opened the door, though, and got an armful of puffy eyed, apologetic Buck in response. They quietly made their way over to Chris’ room and then to Eddies own, where he made no short work of Buck’s apologies, kissing him soundless every time he tried.

At the end of the night, Buck wasn’t sure what had helped him sleep better—seeing Chris alive and well, or spending his night in Eddie’s arms, wrapped up tight enough that he couldn’t break free even if he tried.

Not that he would.

--

“Hi Buck!”

“Hi Christopher!” 

Buck was all smiles as he swooped in to scoop Christopher into a big bear hug, leaning over to kiss Eddie’s cheek as he let Chris back down to the ground and they started walking back to the car. “How was school, buddy?” He asked, easily going into idle listening mode as Eddie’s hand slipped into his. It was an early release day for Christopher, and he had all but demanded that they spent the afternoon hanging out together—and it was moments like these that reminded Buck about how lucky he was, swinging his hand in Eddie’s like a teenager as they walked back to the car, Chris eagerly leading the way.

Honestly, if anything, the fact that a date night for Buck was now spending a night at the museum with his boyfriend and his kid (instead of in a club, or at a bar, or doing something he probably wouldn’t remember the next day) really was a testament to his own personal growth. No drinking, no drugs, no questionable sex with questionable people in questionable locations—just a nerdy firefighter and his kid.

Dinner consisted of hot dogs and pretzels and soda, and somehow Chris was outpacing them on energy as they wandered through the exhibits. Buck never quit being amazed at just how much Chris knew—hell, Buck was an adult and he still didn’t know the difference between a Monet painting and a Manet painting—but Chris was like the little brainiac Energizer bunny, his energy only weaning after they got home and demanded Buck read him two whole stories for bedtime, and Buck was feeling selfish enough to allow himself a few moments with Chris, sleeping on his shoulder, before he tucked the boy in for the night. 

“I’m gonna get going.”

“You don’t have to, you know?”

Eddie kept his voice low as Buck slid Chris’ door shut, his arms finding their way around Buck’s waist on autopilot, easily masking the twinge of annoyance he felt when Buck had the audacity to look surprised.

“What do you mean?”

If he ever met that Abby chick, he was going to give her a piece of his mind. 

“I mean you don’t have to leave. You can stay, sweetheart. I… well, I want you to stay, but I always want you to stay, so I’m a little biased. But you can stay as long as you want, whenever you want.” 

It was better, he hoped, to be direct, because Buck obviously didn’t get the hint after so many subtle cues. Hell, Eddie had given him a key after their third official date, and all Buck had commented was how glad he was to have it, in case of emergencies. Unfortunately, the fact that Buck seemed dumber then a box of rocks didn’t seem to count as an emergency. 

His argument seemed to be well received tonight, at least, because Buck smiled shyly as he looked up to Eddie, his own arms sliding around the other males shoulders. 

“You’re sure I won’t bother you and Chris, right? You really want me to stay tonight?”

“Of course I do.” Eddie said. For the rest of your life, he managed to keep inside. 

--

“Buck, you know you’re always welcome here, right?”

“Yes, Eddie.”

“And you know we love having you here, and we generally hate it when you leave.”

“I get it, Eddie.”

“So you know—“

“Eddie, will you please let me in?”

If Buck wasn’t soaked head to toe, standing on Eddie’s doorstep, he’d probably start to think that the universe was playing a cruel joke on the both of them. It was certainly playing a cruel joke on Eddie, to be honest—they had finished a particularly grueling overnight shift just three hours ago, and he had all but begged Buck to come and get some rest at the house while Christopher was out with Carla that day, and Buck had politely but firmly refused, not wanting to trample on any of the time that he got to take for himself. It was driving Eddie crazy, to be honest—he had really thought that they had made progress on that front, that they had finally gotten to the point where Buck didn’t think he was intruding, or interrupting, or distracting, or whatever. He really had thought he had made his stance clear—that he always loved spending time with Buck, period. 

Well, he was certainly never one to back down from a challenge. 

“What even happened, Buck?”

“The pipe burst in the apartment above me. I got soaked through in the middle of a nap.” 

“Oh, Buck.”

“It’s not funny, Eddie! I was trying to be considerate!”

“Baby, I’m not laughing. I’m just very distracted by how good you look soaking wet.”

“Eddie, I swear to god—“

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“….oh. Oh!”

--

“I meant what I said, you know?”

“Hmm?”

They had gotten down to the lazy, delighted moments of the evening, standing together in the shower, Buck slotted easily into Eddies arms. They were taking advantage of the last twenty minutes they had together before Chris came home, and needless to say, neither of them were exactly jumping at the idea of wearing pants again.

“We love having you here, Chris and I. And we really do hate it when you leave because you think that you have to, or you think that you’re intruding, or you think… well, whatever else that you’re thinking.”

“Eddie…”

Buck turned in his arms, pushing his wet hair back, but Eddie smothered any chance of a self depreciating comment by pressing their lips together. He didn’t pull back until he knew Buck would be breathless, panting, and dazed, and it probably wasn’t fair to fight that way, but Eddie couldn’t handle another comment about how much of a bother Buck perceived himself.

“You’re home to me, Buck. Chris too. He loves you and he looks up to you, and you drive me crazy thinking that you could be anything but welcome in our lives. Buck, I want you to move in with us. Stay. Forever.”

There was a time and a place where Buck’s self doubt would have run rampant faced with a confession like that—hell, Buck 1.0 wouldn’t even have allowed a relationship to get that far—but somehow, looking up at Eddie, nothing could be more perfect. 

“You’re home to me too, Eddie.” He started, softly, a smile on his face. “And if you and Chris really wouldn’t mind—“

“It’s not just that we wouldn’t mind, though. It’s what we want. We want you to live with us, sweetheart.”

“… well, I’ve never been good at denying anything my Diaz boys want, have I?”

--

(Over dinner, Buck had nervously approached the topic with Chris, because no matter how sure Eddie was, Buck had to hear it for himself. 

Chris got so excited he almost threw up. 

Eddie considered everything about that night as a win—but the best part of all was the price, Buck, beautiful Buck, waiting for him in his—no, in their bed.)

[rjhpandapaws]

A Cup of Something Better

Ch7: When Stuck in One Place, Try Another

Hank was in a tight spot, his manuscript was late already, and it was only going to get later. Hank was out of ideas, well, kind of, distracted was probably a better word for it. Somehow he didn't think his editor would take the excuse of 'so I'm gonna need an extension on that deadline because I'm out of ideas, and also the time I could have spent writing I've spent thinking about a guy that I've seen like once,' all that well. Kaya was great, don't get him wrong, she put up with a lot of his bullshit, but even she had her limits. Hank being almost a month late with a manuscript was definitely one of them, that he unfortunately knew from experience. Best to get this over with. After his meeting with Kaya he was meeting Jeffrey for lunch, something they didn't do as often as they should.

Figuring he'd sat outside her home office long enough, Hank turned off his beat up old car and got out to head inside. The sooner he got this over with the better. She met him at the door, her red hair tied back in a bun, her green eyes were narrowed behind wide red framed glasses. He was definitely about to get an earful.

"You're late," she said in place of a greeting stepping aside to let him in, "but im beginning to notice thats the one garuntee with you."

"Good afternoon to you too Kaya," Hank remarked letting the tall redhead lead the way to her office.

She sat in her office chair and Hank took the couch. Kaya waited until he was seated before she spoke, "Please tell me you have something, even just a progress check. You're creeping up on a month and the company is starting to breathe down my back."

Hank cleared his throat rubbing at his beard, trying to find words that wouldn't get him flayed alive, "the college has been keeping me pretty busy, when I've had time to write I havent been able to get anything down. I was, um, I was wondering if I could get an extension or maybe a hiatus period. I honestly thought I'd be done by now, I'm sorry Kaya."

She sighed, an incredibly swdate response compared to the anger that was burning in her eyes, "an extension Hank? You come in here a month overdue with nothing to show for it and you have the nerve to ask for an extension! You never fail to amaze me. I'll see if I can get you marked as on hiatus. I'll cite your being a professor as my reasoning." Hank breathed a sigh of relief, though the feeling was short lived as Kaya continued, "If you do something like this again the company is going to drop you most likely."'

"Thanks Kaya." Hank responded, "I know I'm not the easiest to work with, but this shouldn't happen again."

She watched him stand with a distant expression, "you know what happens if it does."

He nodded as he made his way to the door, "Have a good day Kaya."

"You too Hank."

Hank figured this was a long time coming, but it was still a surprise to hear just how close he was to being dropped. Not that it wasn't deserved, only a few of his manuscripts had ever been on time. For a few months out of the year he could blame it on being a professor, but the main reason for it was just that his writing process was unstructured and slow.

He needed a pick me up if he was going to be dealing with Jeff as well as Kaya. He drove the familiar route toward the university, planning to stop by the cute cafe again. He parked and walked into the cafe, making his way to the counter with plans to try that same latte again with less espresso since he was feeling more human today. There was a different barista working the counter today, Josh, according to his nametag.

"Hey," Josh said with a charismatic smile, "welcome to Hand Brewed Hope, what can we get started for you?"

"I'll take a medium vanilla latte with two shots of espresso," he almost ordered something for Jeff but then thought better of it.

"Connor will have that down at the other counter for you when its done," Josh said handing the cup off to the other barista.

Hank followed the action with his eyes and then his brain froze. It was the barista from yesterday, he figured as much from the name, either the kid from his night class or his twin. He was just as struck by Connor this time as he had been before and it took all of his strength not to just stare. If anything he was more attractive now that Hank was awake enough to take in more than just his eyes.

Connor was tall, maybe a couple inches shorter than Hank. His brown hair was styled back neatly save for one errant curl that fell defiantly onto his forehead giving the look boyish charm. Hank caught himself staring and decided to make conversation.

"So, uh, Connor, was it?" Hank asked in the ineloquent way that seemed to be the usual of him when he was around the barista.

"Yes professor?" Came the almost immediate response and Hank needed a minute.

Hank stared again, trying to assess if he had in fact heard that correctly. Upon the realization that he he had, his stomach turned on itself. Nothing said dirty old man quite like crushing on one of your students.

"Well that answers that I suppose," Hank said, and hopefully he didn't sound like he was choking on his words.

Connor couldn't be more than in his early twenties at best, and Hank was turning thrity-nine come September. On top of being his professor, the age difference would make anyone uncomfortable. This crush needed to be tucked away, it couldn't become anything. He was pulled from his thoughts by the paper togo cup coming into his line of sight. He took it with a weak smile.

"Have a good day professor," Connor said kindly as he turned to leave.

"You too kid," he responded lifting the cup in place of a wave as he left the cafe like the devil was on his heels.

He could already hear Jeff giving him a hard time about falling for yet another pair of pretty brown eyes, as well as the following lecture about appropriate behavior. He rolled his eyes at his own thoughts and started his car heading to their usual place, a diner by the police station. He drank from the latte, deciding that two shots of espresso was ideal, the bitter perfectly balanced by the vanilla.

Hank arrived before Jeff as was usual and picked a table close to the door, somewhere easy to spot. Jeff arrived a few minutes later, sitting across from Hank. He eyed the coffee cup.

"Good to see you're as much of an asshole as I remember," Jeff joked in way of a greeting, "stopped for a fucking coffee and didn't even get me anything."

Hank laughed shaking his head, "I don't see you for six months and the first thing you do is bitch at me for not buying you a coffee. Some friend you are."

"How's the new book coming along?" He asked looking over the menu.

Hank winced, "I asked to be put on hiatus with my publisher because of got nothing in me right now."

Jeff gave him a sympathetic smile, "how's the university treating you then?"

"Good," Hank replied setting his own menu down having decided on a bacon burger, "night classes are pretty relaxed. How are things at the station?"

"Hectic." Came the reply as Jeff flagged for a waiter, "just got a bunch of new academy graduates and they all think they're hot shit."

"You know how it is, give them a few months and the gravity of the job will set in."

There was a lull in the conversation long enough for them to place their orders. Then the topic finally turned away from work. Though Hank didn't like the new topic that much better.

"So you seeing anyone Hank?" Jeff asked right as he was drinking from his latte. His choking must have marked him as guilty because Jeff continued with, "let me guess, brown eyes."

"Its complicated," Hank replied when he caught his breath, staring at the table as though it held the solution to all of his problems, "he's one of my students. I met him here though." He said tapping the paper cup, "he's a barista."

He could feel Jeff's eyes on him and he looked up. "You've got it bad, its written all over your face." Hank could feel the lecture coming, "you know you can't do anything right? At least not until the semester is out."

"I know that Jeff, jesus." The second half took a little longer to catch up with Hank, "wait what?"

"He's taking night classes right? So that usually means older students. Try talking to him outside of class, like at the shop once the semester is over," Jeff said casually, as though he wasn't suggesting that Hank talk to a guy that was younger than him but also definitely out of his fucking league.

Hank was saved from having to reply when their food arrived. Content silence followed as they enjoyed their lunch, though in the background Hank was overtaking what Jeff had said. Could he approach Connor? Would that be okay? Worst comes to worse Connor would just assume him an overly conversational customer. It couldn't hurt to try he supposed, but then again he'd always been a sucker for brown eyes.

They switched to lighter topics until it came time to part ways. Like always they parted with the half empty promise that they would do this more often. Hank giving a less empty promise that, yes he would at least try and talk to Connor when the semester was out.

Hank had left in a better mood than he had arrived in. For the first time in months he felt inspired, he wanted to write. Not for his manuscript, but maybe it was time to start a new project. Something that better fit what he was feeling, something light and happy. A short piece probably, but well worth the wait. Something that reflected the warmth that can be found in warm brown eyes.

[graaythekwami]

A Good Actor - ML one-shot

Summary: To avoid auditioning for the role of Ladybug, Marinette finds herself trying out as Chat Noir for a school performance. It’s just her luck that she’s trying out with Adrien, who she can barely get a sentence out around. So when she’s told to improv the heroes’ patrol night she does the easiest thing– and repeats exactly what Chat Noir said to her on patrol last night.

Also read on ao3!

----------

“Y-you want me to what?” Marinette cried, taking a step back, staring at Alya with wide eyes.

“I want you to play Ladybug for the school performance!” Alya said, holding up the poster excitedly. “Every class needs to send in a video of two students to audition for the role of Ladybug and Chat Noir, and just about everyone in our class agreed that you’d be the perfect Ladybug!”

“Hahaha, me? Perfect Ladybug? What are you talking about we’re nothing alike,” Marinette said hastily. “I’d just trip across the stage and get tangled up in the yoyo string if I tried it, you know me!”

“For once I actually agree with Dupain-Cheng,” Chloe piped up from the other side of the room, arms crossed. “I would be a much better Ladybug than she would ever be!”

Alya ignored her, pressing closer with a smile. “Yes you, girl! Who better than our ‘everyday Ladybug’? I saw you dressed up for Clara Nightingale’s video, and you pulled off Ladybug’s costume so well. And sure you can be a bit clumsy sometimes, but that doesn’t mean a thing. Remember when we were shooting that school film and you were going to step in as an actor? You were doing awesomely!”

“B-but wouldn’t you be a better Ladybug?” Marinette stuttered out. “I mean you run her blog, you probably know the most about her, you’d pull off Ladybug perfectly! You’re her number one fan!”

Alya grinned. “Also, did I mention that we’re going to have Adrien play Chat Noir? That’d mean you’d get to play a role where Adrien’s flirting with you, and even if you guys aren’t chosen as the final actors you’d get to spend some time with him...”

Marinette was mad that this made her pause for a moment– because that was not how she was supposed to act as a superhero. Rule number one was to protect her identity, and everything else comes after that. She already had put herself in a role where she had almost been fully dressed up as Ladybug before, and she was not going to do that again. Even if it meant working with Adrien.

“Ha! I knew that would change your mind!” Alya said triumphantly, taking her pause as a yes. She grabbed Marinette by her arm, dragging her away. “We got our Ladybug!”

“Wait Alya, I didn’t say–!” Marinette began, only to be cut off by Adrien on the other side of the room.

“You want me to play Chat Noir?” He asked, looking quite startled at the idea.

“Well, yeah dude,” Nino said with a grin. “I mean, you were his voice actor for the movie, right? You look kinda like him too... ‘cause you know, blond hair and all? Even the Clara Nightingale wanted you to play Chat Noir in her music video. Who would be better in the class?”

“I mean, I don’t know, you know I probably wouldn’t have time to do it, with my schedule and all–”

“But you have time today, you’re here after all, and just about everything else will be done during school hours,” Nino countered, still grinning. “So we could film the audition today and submit to the school, and if you guys make it then the rest would be during school.”

“I–”

“Marinette is going to be playing Ladybug for our class audition,” Alya said happily as they pulled up near the boys. She pushed Marinette forward, who was stiff. “You guys work so well together, won’t it be perfect?”

“Alya I–”

Adrien gave a small smile. “I think Marinette is an awesome choice, but I don’t think I will be able to do this. I don’t want to disappoint, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to step down.”

“Come on dude!” Nino begged. “There’s no one else in the class that can pull off a better Chat Noir.”

Marinette crossed her arms. “I’ve seen the call for auditions– they specifically stated that looks don’t matter at all for this, it all comes down to acting skills. You don’t need me and Adrien just because we happen to have the same hair color as the heroes. There’s other people that can do it better, so choose them.”

“Adrien has the most experience with acting though!” Rose piped up.

“And I’ve run the statistics, and out of all the females in the class Marinette would be the most suitable candidate for acting,” Max remarked.

“We–” Adrien began, but he was cut off by their class.

“You would be awesome, man,” Kim said, leaning over his desk. “Both of you, just give it a try?”

“Neither of you would mess up on stage,” Mylene said softly.

Ivan nodded. “It wouldn’t hurt to at least try, right?”

“You owe me girl,” Alya reminded Marinette. “And I’m cashing in right now– you need to try out for this audition. This would be an awesome chance for you!”

Marinette swallowed, barely noticing as she bumped up against Adrien, slightly startled at how adamant her class was on it being them to audition. Of course they didn’t realize what pressure they were putting on her, if anything they were just trying to work up her courage, not realizing just what could be at stake if she were to do this. She nervously looked up at Adrien, who surprisingly looked just as worried about this as she did. He glanced at her, offering a nervous smile, but also seemed to be quietly asking for her help as well. Of course he had enough pressure on him from his family, and pushing his schedule probably never went over well for him.

“Guys,” Marinette said, trying to make herself heard over the clamor of encouragement. “I don’t want to play Ladybug in this. I’m flattered that you think I’d do such a good job... but I don’t feel the same.”

“It’s just an audition,” Alix said. “Come on, would it hurt to give it a shot?”

Marinette swallowed, they weren’t going to let this go, were they? She closed her eyes, mind racing. She could feel Tikki pressing up against her through her purse. Once again her class began reassuring her that she would do an awesome job, to at least give it a shot. That there would be so many auditions that it would be unlikely that she would be chosen anyways. Ideas raced through her mind, trying to find some solution.

“Fine!” she suddenly cried, and she felt Tikki stiffen up. “I’ll do the audition!”

“Woo!” Alya cheered, and the class was grinning. “We got our Ladybug.”

“Wait–” Marinette said hastily, holding out her hands. “I’ll do the audition– but I don’t want the role of Ladybug. I want to try out for Chat Noir.”

Everyone stared at her.

She scratched the back of her head. “He’s my favorite of the two heroes, and I think I’d be more comfortable doing all this if I was trying out for his role, you know? Besides, the flier said this was going to be more focused on talent than anything else so why not...?”

“Besides!” Adrien suddenly interrupted, throwing himself into the conversation. “I’d love to try out as Ladybug! I think I would have a lot more fun with that role anyways, she’s awesome!”

“Well, um, I don’t see anything wrong with that, you are like her biggest fan,” Nino said with a shrug. “You’re both awesome actors, I think you could pull off any role.” 

“But it would be so perfect the other way,” Alya muttered. “I still have pictures from Clara’s music video auditions, you were both so cute...” Nino nudged her, and she smiled. “But whatever you guys are most comfortable with doing– I know you two are going to be awesome!”

She winked at Marinette, who flushed slightly. She didn’t know why Adrien now seemed willing with the role swap, since he had acted like his tight schedule was the issue before– yet now he seemed much more relaxed. Maybe he was tired of always being dragged into the role as Chat Noir? It seemed to happen so often with him, so it was no wonder he wanted to play Ladybug...

That’s when it hit Marinette. Adrien was going to be auditioning for the role of Ladybug. He was going to be acting as her. And if she was going to be playing the role as flirty Chat Noir that would mean that she would be flirting with Adrien.

Suddenly the room seemed a lot warmer, a pink blush spreading across her cheeks. No one said a word as she and Adrien were dragged towards the front of the classroom. Nino had his phone out to record the audition, while Alya was looking over the requirements one last time.

The next thing Marinette knew she was positioned across from Adrien, a plastic Chat Noir mask being pressed onto her face. It was far from comfortable– the mask the Miraculouses provided always seamlessly sat on her face, not obstructing her vision nor poking into her skin. She had to adjust this fake one several times, the elastic that held it into place digging into the sides of her head.

Adrien had a Ladybug mask on, fidgeting with it himself, shooting her a hesitant smile. She smiled back, knees feeling weak seeing him with her signature colors on him. In fact if you messed up his hair a bit he could probably pull off a Mister Bug costume– but she was sure the last thing he wanted was to be compared to Chat Noir if that had been what made him uncomfortable about all this in the first place.

“Okay!” Alya said, scrolling through the school website on her phone, holding the audition flier in the other hand. “No costumes are needed for the auditions, I just want to help you guys to be in character. Minimal props are allowed, and we just need to send in a two-to-three minute video of the two actors doing an improv performance of any scenario involving the heroes. ‘We’re looking for actors that can naturally fall into the role’, blah blah blah, ‘no script of any kind is needed to be followed for the audition’, blah blah, ‘only one video submission per class’... and I think that’s everything!”

“Here,” Juleka said, holding out two objects for them to take. “For props.”

Marinette was given a long cardboard tube, and considering the fact that Adrien was handed a yoyo it was probably supposed to represent Chat Noir’s baton. She had to stiffen a laugh, the image of a cardboard-covered Chat Noir leaping into battle popping into her mind. She didn’t know why, but it definitely seemed like something he would do.

“Okay!” Alya said excitedly, grinning at them. “Just relax, we can do as many takes as you guys want. Sure it’s supposed to be improv, but the beauty of video auditions is that we can just send in our best one.”

Adrien laughed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “So then, what scenario do you want us in then?”

He had looped the yoyo around a finger, but it was quite clear he didn’t have much experience with the toy. The yoyo only came back to his hand once before losing momentum, and he had to wind it up. Marinette tried to avoid yoyos for the most part, mostly because she had become very skilled with them both in and out of the mask. Also she found regular yoyos to be very boring– no endless string and it doesn’t function as a grappling hook? Where’s the fun in that?

“An akuma battle!” Kim said eagerly. 

“And what are we supposed to do? Have them jump around the room fighting a non-existent monster?” Alix rolled her eyes.

“They need a speaking role– something to show how amazing they are!” Rose said happily, beaming at them.

Alya grinned. “Okay, I got it– you two are meeting up for a nightly patrol, okay? Marinette, go off screen for a moment, because Ladybug would definitely be the more punctual of the two... perfect!”

“Actually–” Adrien began, before stopping.

Chat Noir was actually the more punctual one of the two– he tended to arrive early on patrol nights and on time for anything else, while she ran late as both Marinette and Ladybug. The only time Chat was late was when he was busy with his civilian life– meaning he was still being punctual in that part of his life.

“How should we start?” Marinette asked uncertainly, stepping back as Nino held up his phone to record.

“Your choice girl, just be Chat Noir,” Alya sat up. “Okay, everyone quiet... and go!”

With that Nino started recording. Adrien stiffened up for a moment, before leaning up against the desk, looking over to Marinette. Improv or not she had no idea what she should be doing, and she closed her eyes for a moment. Patrol... she went on patrol every week, this shouldn’t be a problem. She just needed to do as Chat Noir did, and no one knew him better than she did.

She had literally been on patrol with him last night, this would be easy.

So Marinette sat up, putting on her best Chat-grin, and sauntered onto the camera. She twirled her ‘baton’ the best she could with her hands, before slamming the tip onto the ground and leaning against it like she had seen Chat Noir do so many times before. Her heart was hammering, considering the fact that she was smirking slyly at Adrien, but she reminded herself to just play her part.

“Hey there Bugaboo,” she said as smoothly as she could. “Tonight is purr-fect, isn’t it? Absolutely mew-velous, just like you.”

She couldn’t help but let her grin widen– saying the exact same thing Chat Noir had said to her last night. Adrien stared at her for a moment, blinking once, and she decided that he was adorable in his little Ladybug mask. He looked surprised, probably because she wasn’t a stuttering mess, before composing himself. He crossed his arms, rolling his eyes.

“Really, Kitty?” He asked in what seemed to be an attempt to mimic Ladybug’s voice. “Can’t we have just one patrol without your puns?”

Huh. That had been basically the exact same thing she had said in reply to Chat Noir last night. That made her feel warm, the fact that Adrien understood Ladybug that well. Nino had said he was a fan, but still.

“No puns, My Lady?” Marinette replied, once again echoing her and Chat’s conversation from last night, and she put her hand on her chest in mock-offense. “But that would be so claw-ful. A cat-astrophe! Purr-haps you need to reconsider just how pun-derful my puns are.”

Adrien struggled against a laugh as she rattled off her cat puns, and she hated the fact that they came to mind so easily. Thank goodness Chat Noir wasn’t here to watch her now, because she knew that he would never let her live this down. Mimicking him and making puns? He would probably think he was in heaven.

“I will not hesitate to push you off of this building,” Adrien replied with a huff, crossing his arms just a bit more dramatically than she had when she had said this last night. “Now, I’m going to patrol the east side, you take the west and–”

“Meow-ch!” She cut him off without a second thought, because that was what he had done to her last night when she had tried to divide up patrols. “Separate patrols again? I would think that you’re trying to avoid me, but considering how many messages you left me last night–”

“I was worried about you, you stupid cat!” This time Adrien cut her off. “You took several hits for me with that akuma yesterday– then left as soon as the battle was over! I just wanted to make sure you were okay!”

“My Lady was worried about me!” Marinette swooned, clasping her hands together– but had to swiftly grab the cardboard tube before it fell over, because unlike Chat’s actual baton it couldn’t shrink down. “Your Miraculous Ladybugs did heal me up, but I have to say I am still a little sore...” she held out one hand, smiling slightly. “Kiss it better, Bugaboo?”

On the outside Marinette was flawlessly playing her role, but on the inside she was panicking. She was calling Adrien Bugaboo! She had just asked him to kiss her hand! Audition or not she was still freaking out... but that wasn’t the only reason. She had just used what had happened on patrol last night as a starting point for this improv shoot, yet somehow the conversation was going exactly how it had gone last night– and she had no idea what that meant.

Adrien was watching her with wide eyes for a moment– was there something on her face? Did he think she was weird? Was she making him uncomfortable? She didn’t have time to question him further as he slipped back into character, rolling his eyes and pushing her hand away. He attempted to spin her yoyo about a few times, though it didn’t go too well so he stopped.

“Such a needy kitty,” he said as he turned away. “We can patrol together if you want to so badly– but if you call me Bugaboo again I’m throwing you into the Seine.”

Alarms were going off in Marinette’s mind at this point– because that had been exactly what she had said, nearly word for word. She had given Chat Noir that same threat last night, she had turned away in the same way, she had been spinning her yoyo about– had Adrien been spying on them or something?!

“Must you wound me, My Lady? Purr-haps you should reconsider.”

Adrien let out a dramatic sigh. “You already used that one tonight, Kitty.”

Marinette had stiffened up, and was now staring at Adrien in shock. There was only so much that could be a coincidence, and this had now reached far past that. Her mouth was dry, knowing that what she said next would either confirm or deny the racing possibilities in her mind, because she could only think of one reason on why Adrien could parrot her conversation from last night so perfectly.

“W-well,” Marinette stuttered. “I think you should appreciate my puns more, even P-plagg likes them.”

This time Adrien stiffened up, having gone still. He didn’t say anything for a moment, before slowly turning around, watching her closely. He opened his mouth, about to say something, then paused. She swallowed, and then he spoke again, each word said with some hesitation.

“Well... Tikki says Plagg has no taste,” he replied slowly, and Marinette’s world came crashing down as he said her kwami’s name. She took a step back, face pale as she stared at Adrien. The audition was long forgotten, Alya’s wave at her for her to continue having gone unnoticed. She just stared at her crush and partner, mouth part way open.

“Ohmygosh!” She blurted out, hands going to her mouth. “Oh my gosh, n-no, this isn’t– you can’t– you’re not–”

Adrien was staring at her with awe, like he had never seen her before. She paid no heed to the confused looks her classmates were giving her, taking a step back from Adrien. He reached out, hesitating, looking stunned– but he had a huge smile on his face.

“Can I just say you make a fabulous Chat Noir?” Adrien said with a grin.

“Shut up!” She cried, voice muffled by her hands.

“You just pull him off so purr-fectly,” he continued. “Anyone else would have done a claw-ful job, but you just captured his essence–”

“I will throw you into the Seine!” She shouted, being fueled by nothing but panic.

“Cut!” Nino called, pausing the recording. “What happened, dudes? The first half was going perfectly.”

“Purr-fectly,” Adrien whispered under his breath, a gleeful smile on his face, and Marinette reflexively chucked the cardboard tube at him.

Adrien stepsided with ease, winking at her, and she felt herself turning red.

“Hey Nino, could you send me a copy of that take?”

“No!” Marinette yelped. “Nino, no! I will sic Alya on you! Don't you dare!”

“I'll do whatever you want, just save it!” Adrien called, arm wrapping around her waist as she sprang towards Nino’s phone, holding her back. “I need it for the memory!”

“I will sic Alya on you too, Agreste!” 

“...What is happening?” Alya whispered, and the rest of the class seemed to echo that sentiment.

Adrien seemed to gain the upper hand as he scooped Marinette up in his arms, causing her to let out a startled squeal, turning bright red. She most definitely wasn't protesting as she looked up at Adrien, but the startling thing was that Adrien was doing it in the first place. He seemed surprised by her reaction, but was grinning.

“Wipe that smirk off your stupidly handsome face!”

“Handsome face, you say?”

“I will tie you to the Eiffel Tower and leave you there all night!”

“As long as you're there~”

“Shut up, Agreste!” Marinette snarled, punching his shoulder, which only made him laugh.

He leaned in close, still cradling Marinette in his arms. He was smirking, a gleam in his eyes as he leaned in close.

“Make me, little lady.”

Marinette, who somehow had gone even redder, glared up at him. She reached up, grabbed the sides of his face, and pulled his lips down into hers. The whole class exploded as she did so, Adrien stiffening up as they kissed.

It only lasted for a moment, and then instantly Adrien melted into the kiss. He pulled her in closer, his grip on her shifting. One hand found the center of her back, the other supporting the rest of her as they kissed. Part of Marinette was panicking– because Adrien– but the rest of her now recognized him as her partner.

Chaton. Dork. Trustworthy. Safety. There was no reason to panic, but plenty to keep kissing.

They were breathing heavily as they pulled apart, resting their foreheads together. His smirks from before were gone, his gaze nothing but soft, joy pouring from him.

“Oh kwamis,” he whispered, his warm breath on her face. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she murmured, and she felt a purr building up in his throat.

“Say it again?”

She gave a small smirk. “How about you kiss me again?”

He grabbed her chin, and did just that.

[xiao8-bb]

Man, I Feel Like A

A Linked Universe fic

[chapter 1]

Chapter 2: A Sticky Situation [posted on ao3 here]

At what point is it considered appropriate to tell your travelling companions you’re actually a man, and at what point are you supposed to take the secret to your grave?  Wild has no idea and it’s driving him mad with anxiety.  He’s kinda waffling towards keeping it a secret forever at this point.

It’s not like he’s a man all the time.  He was genuinely just having a lot of girl days at first and so forgot about the problem, and he didn’t bother to correct anyone on a boy day when they happened.  But now it’s been a few months, he’s been a boy consistently for at least a week now, and if anyone calls him “she” one more time he thinks he might solve his problem purely through violence and yelling.

This is such a weird problem.  He’s used to the opposite in his Hyrule, where he’d be having girl days and be constantly called “young man” or whatever.

The funniest part?  He wasn’t even a girl when he first met them.  He came straight out of Gerudo Town after talking with Riju on a boy day and didn’t think to correct them, and now look.  It’s been months.  

Gender is an awful curse sent down by Hylia Herself for using Her name in vain too often, and now Wild has to reap the consequences.  What a vindictive goddess.  He endeavors to use it all the more wastefully whenever he has this thought.

Usually it’s not much of an issue.  He calls his ever shifting moods “girl days,” “boy days,” “goron days” for the times he feels more neither than anything.  Almost always, he feels like… half a gender at most.  Like he took a bite out of an apple and found that enough.  

On girl days she fixes in an earring Issha recommended and calls it a day.  She hardly ever bothers correcting people, like how the Gorons won’t mind if you call one sister instead of brother.  On boy days, he puts in a different kind and knows it’s enough.  Even if the Gerudo call him Little Hylian Vai (as they’ve taken to nicknaming him), he feels about the same as he always does.  Goron days are the easiest, where they forgo the earrings entirely.  There’s the little thrill when someone gets it right, but it’s not a big deal.  Link is Link, after all.  At his core, no matter if he’s called Wild or Link or Champion, no matter if he’s called a boy or a girl or, once, a hellion menace to society, he’s always solely himself.  Gender feels more like an accessory than it does part of his identity.

Except it’s been months, and Wild is going insane.  He didn’t realize how much he depended on the occasional slivers of—validation? insightfulness? understanding?—having someone call him correctly.  His friends back home knew, at least in few in almost every major settlement, and they always referred to him correctly after checking his ears.  

At the risk of being redundant: Wild has gone months without that.  In one go, he solved the problem of being referred to almost solely as a man and ended up with the problem of being referred to solely as a woman.

And now the second problem: how in the name of Hylia (blessed goddess who is the source of all his troubles) is he supposed to tell the others?

Hey, I know you’ve been under the impression I’m a woman this whole time, but surprise, I’m actually a man!  Except it’s not all the time, but today I am and have been for the past week.

Could you do me a favor and call me he until I tell you to stop, and to keep doing that if I ever ask again?

You know when that man in the town two portals back said to grow some balls and take up his gambling challenge?  Might’ve found a solution to that.

“What’re you muttering to yourself?” Twilight asks, and Wild nearly drops his armful of mushrooms back to the ground with a squeak.  He turns with wide eyes to see the rancher raise an eyebrow at him.

“Nothing!”

He gets a disbelieving sigh at that, but he’ll take it.  Better Twilight believe he’s planning to dump Goron spice into someone’s bowl than hear what he’s saying before he’s found the words.  

Wild stands up from his crouch, disappearing his haul into the slate.  “Did you get the herbs I asked for?”  At Twilight’s affirmative, they start heading back to the camp in companionable quiet.  They hadn’t wandered too far off, but it’s still a walk back.

It’s Twilight who breaks the silence first.  “Say, Wild…”  He stops, both verbally and motion-wise, forcing Wild to stop as well.  Wild looks up at the man’s face.  There’s hesitance writ in the uptick of his mouth, and his gaze is unreadable.  “You’re a good kid, you know that?”

“Huh?  What brought this on?”

“Ah, it’s been a few months since you’ve joined our group, hasn’t it?  Got thinking, ‘s all.  You’ve got a good heart, so don’t hesitate to let us know if anything’s bothering you.”  He reaches out and ruffles Wild’s hair, smile widening into something genuine when Wild protests and pulls back.  “You’ve been looking a bit down.”

He… hadn’t realized his mood has been that obvious.  Wild looks down and kicks the dirt under his feet, hoping his ears aren’t as red as they feel.  A sincere, well-intentioned talk about his feelings?  Horrible.  Worst experience of his life.  “I’ll—”  His voice catches.  “I’ll be fine, Twi.”

He doesn’t need to look up to know Twilight is giving him that look, the one Wind calls the Big Brother Face.  “If you say so.  Just know we’ll be willing to listen and support you,” he says, gentle as if Wild is one of his goats.  

Wild runs his tongue over his teeth, feeling warmth and dread in equal amounts prick at him.  “Of course.”

And he’s not lying.  They’re all kind people at heart.  No one will care.  You don’t know that for sure, a little nagging voice says.  You lied to them for months, another hisses.  Should’ve spoken up earlier.  He can imagine the twinge of hurt in Hyrule’s face, the particular furrow in Legend’s forehead, the way Wind’s smile will drop a little if he tells them he’s been lying for so long and, worse, that they might’ve been hurting him, unintentional though it may be.  They’re too kind, is the problem.

It would’ve been one thing if he’d told them earlier.  Easier to laugh off, to brush aside as something that hadn’t crossed his mind until just then.  Like it wasn’t an intentional farce—it wasn’t!  Wild isn’t different at all, not where it matters.  Clothing doesn’t factor into it, because he’d wear whatever regardless of gender.  Neither does the way he acts, because a sashay is fun to pull off at any time, and as a girl Link has no problem swimming shirtless.  He’s just been going with the flow.

It feels like a farce though.  He never lied, not really, but he didn’t fix any of their assumptions, didn’t say anything, for months.  It’s a lie of omission that sits sour on the back of his tongue.

Twilight clicks his tongue, waiting until Wild looks back up at him to speak.  “Is it dangerous?  Whatever’s bothering you.”  He doesn’t seem stern or any more solemn than earlier, just an open, neutral expression on his face.

Uncomfortable, yes.  Dangerous?  No, not unless they run into a monster that feeds off conflicted guilt and pent up frustration.  Wild shakes his head.

“Then I’m not gonna pry.  I’ll keep Time from trying to dad you too, if you want.”

Unbidden, a giggle slips out of Wild.  “‘Dad’ me?”

“You didn’t think I’m the only one who’s noticed you’ve been down, did you?  I just got first dibs.”

Wild lets himself laugh fully at that, ignoring the stone in his stomach.  

-

Warriors flicks his gaze to the campfire, where a still-smiling Wild sits in front of a cooking pot.  She and Twilight had returned a while ago, snickering like mischievous children while sneaking looks to Time.  Old Man’s probably going to get some nasty purple chu jelly in his dinner tonight, he’s assuming.  A bit of a surprise she’s got Twilight in on it, though.  

It’s good to see that Wild’s in a better mood than before.  She’s been… not sullen, but a tension none of them can ease has been sitting on her shoulders for a few weeks now.  There’s nothing obvious that brought it on, but it’s heavy enough that even Legend will have worry flashing across his face whenever Wild pulls away from their group with no indication as to why.

“She’ll say something when she’s ready to,” he hears Twilight murmur to Time.  They’ve got some mentor/mentee plan going on to get Wild out of her mood.  Successful, he supposes; she’s been dropping off into frowns whenever left alone in her thoughts for too long, but right now she’s almost definitely brightened up enough to pull a prank.

Still, he can’t help but scoot over to insert himself into the conversation.  “It’s not anything dangerous, right?”  He trusts that she would tell them if it were; Wild is the least team friendly player in their group, but she’s got enough sense in her to know what’s necessary.

Twilight shakes his head.  “Confirmed it wasn’t.”  Here he hesitates, and his words come out slow, deliberate.  “I’m not sure if it’s… one of her memories?  I don’t remember there being one before she started acting weird, but it might’ve come as a dream.”

Warriors purses his lips, thinking.  It could be.  He’s certainly entertained the thought before.  Wild doesn’t fall into a memory too often, but they’re hard to hide, so everyone became aware of her amnesia and subsequent flashbacks sooner than later.  Almost always she’ll draw into herself a bit, hidden away in a large cloak until the world stopped being too loud and bright for her, and even then Wild would still be withdrawn until something coaxed her out of her shell.

It doesn’t feel like it, though.

He takes another look at Twilight’s face.  It says it all.  “You don’t think that’s it.”

The rancher really is a farm boy through and through, honest as the day is long.  “I overheard her talking to herself earlier, but I’m not sure what I heard and it’s not my place to say anyway.”

A sigh, and Time hauls himself up to his feet.  “Then we wait,” he says decisively.  They watch him amble over and strike a conversation with Four about the forest they’ve landed in.  Twilight goes back to sharpening his sword.

Warriors’s mind is still stuck on Wild, though, and he’d bet a bag of rupees so is Twilight’s.

He prides himself on being a good commander.  Quick to judge a situation and quick to notice if anything is wrong, able to lead squadrons of forces with only minutes to prepare.  Often, his command was too numerous for him to know everyone, but he did his best to be there for anyone who needed it.  Perhaps it’s foolish of him—too many faces, half-familiar from life, unmistakable in death haunt him to this day—but he refuses to give up caring.  It hurts, but to hurt is to be alive, and he carries his ghosts with him even as he locks eyes with a new trainee.

Here, their motley group is a lot smaller than the armies he used to command.  He’s never been an older brother before, but he finds himself falling into it naturally.  It’s easy to tug on the back of Hyrule’s tunic to keep him from wandering off, normal to nudge Four and encourage him to keep talking about smithing, effortless to pull Wind into a friendly scuffle.  With Wild, he finds himself looking after her like it’s instinct.

Maybe it’s because she’s still young at heart.  The scars riddling her face and body age her up years, but there’s something heartwrenchingly childlike about the way she’ll wander off from the group to catch a bug or pick a plant, not understanding why they’ll scold her to stick with them.  She’ll often show her finds off, grinning like there aren’t a million twigs in her hair and mud on her face.

It’s painful to see someone like that pull away without any indication as to why.

He sighs, leaning back on his palms to look at the evening sky.  The brightest stars are beginning to shine, flickering around the rising moon.  The smell of sweetly roasted vegetables wash over him.  Quick headcount: Sky and Wind sparring; Twilight sitting nearby; Legend checking their perimeter, Hyrule with him; Four and Time talking about where to go; Wild at the campfire, standing up and stretching.

“Dinner’s ready!” she announces, loud enough that Legend and Hyrule should hear.  Without waiting, she begins pulling out plates from her slate and spooning out portions.  Warriors watches her closely enough that he sees the glob of something purple being hidden under some greens.

Definitely purple chu jelly from Twilight.

It travels down the line, Warriors hesitating before handing it off to Time, who’s last.  It’s all in good fun though, and Wild’s figured out (after much trial-and-error) how to make sure the jelly doesn’t kill anyone, so he keeps quiet, only checking his own plate to make sure he’s not going to be a victim as well.  Wild catches his eye and winks.  Twilight, across the campfire, has a little feral edge to his grin.

Warriors watches with bated breath as Time takes a scoop of his food.  It’s riveting, seeing his expression go from pleased and content to I-will-kill-whoever-did-this.  Reminds him of the little pissed off kid he knew before meeting him again as an adult.

Time raises his head to glare balefully at Wild.  “Why did you do this.”  It falls flat of being a question.

“Do what?” Wild asks back, eyes wide and confused.  “I thought you liked carrots?”

Wind giggles into his own meal, shoveling another bite into his mouth when that earns him an unamused look.  “I didn’ do nothin’!” he protests before Time even starts saying the accusation.  “Yer face wa’ funny.”

“Don’t talk while chewing,” Sky reminds him.  “Time, what’s wrong with it?  Mine tastes fine?”

Without speaking, Time takes another scoop and presents the purple chuchu glob.  The camp falls into hysterics, speaking all at once.

“Some weird seasoning you’ve got there, Old Man.”

“Are you going to need a potion?”

“Where did someone even get their hands on that?”

Warriors sits back, letting the rambunctious laughter and chatter surround him.  Wind denies it some more, pointing to Hyrule, who was apparently looking at Time’s dinner too intently.  Hyrule denies it right back, pushing the blame to someone else too.  There’s shouts of protest as accusations go flying.  He tunes it out, just smiling to himself.  A small prank, but a big reception.  It’s nice to see spirits so high, especially Wild’s.

He’s too busy feeling reassured at Wild’s bright, impish grin that he nearly misses the accusation thrown at him.

“—paused before giving it to Time, too.”  Legend says this nonchalantly, but one’d have to be blind to miss the smirk he shoots Warriors as he says it.  “Seems suspicious to me.”

Twilight makes a faux thoughtful noise, failing to hide his laughter as Warriors whips his head around to stare in betrayal.  “He was rummaging through our bags earlier, could’ve taken it from mine or Wild’s packs then.”

Warriors splutters, “I was taking inventory!  You know, the thing I do every other night?”

There’s a little gasp from Four, too theatrical to be natural.  “He was staring at Time when we started eating too…”

Betrayal!  Ganged up on by the miserable lot he dared call his brothers!

Clearly they’ve figured out it wasn’t him.  Wild’s just about collapsed with laughter at the sight of his panicked face, but it’s obvious no one wants to spoil her fun.  Time gives him the sternest, most I-am-your-father-listen-to-me face he can muster and says, “What do you have to say for yourself, Warriors?  Why would you put purple chu jelly in this delightful meal Wild worked hard on?”

Warriors is speechless.  Wild titters, looks up to see Time raising an eyebrow at Warriors, and breaks back out into gleeful wheezing.  Wind and Legend don’t seem to be far off, delighted at his misfortune.  

Golden goddesses, the things he does for family.  “You’ve done it,” he says, strangled, “you’ve caught me in my dastardly tricks.  Oh woe is me, what punishment will I be given?”  Sky is the next to break, hiding his laughter behind a hand.

Time, the little snot, looks at him with thin, disappointed lips and mirth dancing in his eyes.  “This,” he intones gravely.  The purple chu jelly jumps from his spoon and smacks into Warriors’s face.

Even Twilight is losing it now.

“ARGH!” he squawks, not expecting Time to actually go through with it.  It’s to the others’ cackling that he slumps to the ground, groaning at the sticky feeling on his cheek.  He can deal with a little grossness (no matter what Legend says), but it’s not a nice feeling when he could be clean and not sticky.  

Someone hands him a clean cloth.  Hyrule, bless his heart.  It’s one of Twilight’s cloths, so he feels no guilt in scrubbing off the jelly and throwing it at the traitor himself.  Twilight takes the assault with a grin, the infectious mood lingering even as the laughter calms down.

“Here.”  A scarred hand dips into view, and Wild refills Warriors’s bowl with some fried greens fresh from the pot.  Steam rises up lazily.  She smiles at him through it, cheerful and alive like she hasn’t been for the past week, and he instantly forgives her for pulling him into her prank.

He takes a bite and sighs.  Fresh, still sweet yet crispy from quickly frying it.  “Delicious as ever,” he compliments, trying to force some grudge into his tone.  Wild sees right through him and beams wider.  “Oh, shove off.”  He wipes a hand, still a little sticky with goo, across her nose, grinning himself when she shrieks a little in delight.

“Be careful, mister, or else the goo’s going in your meal next!” she teases before scampering off to her own meal.

It’s sometime after dinner that Time approaches him.  “Thank you for playing along.”

Across the clearing, Wild’s wide grin has dropped to a faint upturn of her lips.  She’s scuffling with Wind and the large wolf that follows their group every now and then, trying to claim a sleeping spot.  She’s happy, and after the past week of halfhearted interaction, it feels like everything.

“Ah, it’s nothing.”

-

The sun’s rays are beginning to skim past the treetops when Wild wakes up.  Legend notices immediately; there isn’t anything hostile in the area, so he’s been sitting closer to camp for the past hour now.  He doesn’t say anything when she sneaks out—at least, not at first.  When she doesn’t return after 10 minutes, 20, he shakes Twilight awake to keep watch before following.

She hasn’t gone far, just within hearing range if someone shouts.  Legend stands at the treeline, watching her pull and put back different earrings from that slate of hers.  Studs, hoops, drops, different fashions he can’t name, all reflective of masterful craftsmanship.  They gleam in the early morning light as she holds each pair up for examination.

“You can choose today’s accessories from the camp, you know,” he calls out.  Wild, to her credit, doesn’t react other than her shoulders raising a few centimeters.  “Pretty sure Wind won’t try stealing them.”

That earns a short laugh.  “He wouldn’t dare unless he wants his breakfast burned.  Besides, I’m just… trying to decide how I feel today.  Hard to do that around that noisy lot.”

Legend stops in his tracks.  Normally he’d like to tease, but there’s something brittle about her voice.  “Want me to leave then?” he offers.  He may be a prick, but he’s not about to inflict his presence on someone who needs some time alone.

Finally, Wild turns to look at him.  “No, stay,” she says, and even she looks surprised at how firmly she says it.  She pats the stone next to her.  “C’mon, sit with me for a while.”

It’s nice and quiet in the spot Wild’s chosen.  He sits with his back to her, not wanting to crowd.  Faintly, the tittering of birds sweeten the air, and if he closes his eyes and focuses he can smell the rich petrichor lingering from yesterday’s early evening rain.  Wild goes back to picking out earrings, the faint chime of her slate’s magic rhythmic in its repetition.

It’s like this often, Legend finds.  They’re both pretty silent people on their own, and perhaps not as close as they are with some of the others.  Sure, they jibe and bicker, but to avoid too much tension they end up not seeking each other out.  Legend isn’t even sure if he wants to be close to Wild anyway; she’s almost guaranteed to die violently young and violently so, given her track record of scars and reckless combat techniques.

Still, his treacherous heart cares, and he heaves a sigh as he thinks of her recent melancholy.  A conversation wouldn’t hurt, right?

“You’ve been wearing a lot of stud earrings lately,” he says.  He doesn’t turn to look, but the chiming stops.  “Maybe one of those dangling ones?  The amber gems give a nice glow to you.”

Quietly, so faint he almost misses it, Wild replies back, “...Maybe.”  He risks a glance to guess her expression; she’s staring distantly at her hands, eyes locked on a struggle Legend can’t see.  “Change things up a little, right?”

He raises an eyebrow, though she doesn’t see it.  “You don’t have to go with my suggestion,” he points out.  “If you want to wear studs, wear studs.  They get tangled up less in the twigs and branches you insist on jumping headfirst into, at any rate.”  

“And if I don’t want to wear any at all?”

What an odd question.  Legend fully turns around to squint at her.  “Then don’t?  What, am I missing some watchmen that will arrest you if you don’t put some metal in your ears?”

Wild huffs a laugh at that, but it’s half hearted.  “No, I don’t think so.  Don’t mind me, I’m just overthinking things.”

“Overthinking… types of earrings?”  He doesn’t mean to sound so doubtful, but Wild is both a ridiculous fashionista and someone who could not care less for her appearance.  She’s got a multitude of outfits, sure, but she’s never exactly cared if they matched or how she looked as a result (leading to a very distressing time where she sprinted through Twilight’s Castletown wearing her Barbarian shorts, clunky torso armor that glowed, and an odd mask that looked like a fish was eating her head.  He’s pretty sure they’re banned from the inn for life).

She shakes her head.  “No, forget it, it’s… related, but it’s not—”  This time, her head shake is harsher, more aggressive.  “It’s got some meaning for me,” she reveals reluctantly under Legend’s interrogating stare.  “What type of earrings I wear, I mean.”

He considers this, lining it up with the past week.  He almost wants to ask “why would you ever wear earrings that make you feel horrible?”, but obviously that isn’t an option.  Choosing wearing a specific type probably isn’t an option she has, either.  Something dictates the type she wears regardless of how she feels, but how could a type of earrings make one feel bad…?

Hylia, this is giving Legend a headache.

“Are the earrings hurting you?” he settles on asking.  There’s no way he’s getting the full story out of her anytime soon, but the important answers need to be established first.

“Wh—?  No, they’re fine.”

“Do they upset you?  Is that why you’ve been weird this past week?”

“... it’s not the earrings, not really.  Kind of?  It’s complicated.”

“Uncomplicate it, then.”

He gets a jab to the side for that.  “I don’t know how to,” she admits, bitterness sharpening her tongue.  “I’m working on it, okay?  I’m… I’ll be fine, just give me some time to figure it out.”

Legend jabs her right back, tickling her sides for good measure and ignoring her squeak.  “Well, figure it out faster,” he says drolly.  “Whatever it is you’ve got going in your head can’t be that bad, considering it’s mostly empty in the first place.”

Now that earns him a tackle right off the rock, and they tussle around like children for a few minutes before wordlessly agreeing to stop, flopping onto the grass to stare at the brightening sky.  Neither of them are breathing very hard, but Legend thinks he can hear Wild’s become lighter, less burdened.  He bites his tongue to focus his thoughts.  

“Just wear whatever you feel like wearing, you menace.  If it’s not the earrings making you feel bad, then deal with whatever is making you act like a kicked puppy.”  He kicks out blindly and catches her ankle.  “If it’s one of us, or something we’re doing, or, I don’t know, maybe you’re just allergic to the grass here, tell us.  If it’s something from your past, then however you deal with it is up to you, but between the nine of us we’ve got all sorts of trauma covered, it’ll be easy to commiserate with someone.”

He rolls over to speak and finds her already looking at him.  “Uncomplicate it.  Whatever it is, either you’ll get past this or you won’t, but things will only get worse if you let it stagnate.”

Wild breaks eye contact first, sitting up but gaze fixed low.  At this angle, he can’t see her face.  “Get it over with, basically.  I guess that’s good advice.”

The sky looks bright enough that the others are probably awake by now.  “Of course it is,” he says.  She’s not going to take it, at least not right now, he can tell.  “Decide on the earrings yet?”

Clacks of fingernail against glass.  The now-familiar chime of the Sheikah slate.  “Studs again today.”

“Amber?”

“Amber, yeah.  You made a good point.”

“I always make good points.”

A snort, and they fall back into silence.  It feels like a moment in eternity before Wild speaks up again.  “We should make it back to camp.”  She sounds almost regretful, and Legend feels it too.  The area is warm and peaceful, and it feels like a crime to have to spend the entire day trekking their way through an adventure no one signed up for.  

Neither of them move.  He closes his eyes, feeling the morning sun warm his skin.

“Legend?”

It takes a moment to respond, the siren call of sleep beginning to pull at his senses.  “Hm?”

“Thank you.”

He hums, not resisting the lull of the little bubble they’re in.  “No problem.”

[snarkythewoecrow]

I’m so obsessed with your writing, especially the angsty stories! I was wondering if you’d ever consider doing drug addicted Peter where tony starts to notice and recognize the signs and basically just all the whump and feels as possible lmao! Seriously love your writing and I really appreciate you taking prompts! 💖

This was an awesome prompt, and I tried to fill it, but I’ll admit, it took on a life of its own. I think I may do a second chapter later or an epilogue, so keep an eye out for it. 

This has a big trigger warning for drug use. Read with caution if that’s a thing for you. 

Read on AO3

Peter had a problem, one that started slowly and quickly tumbled out of control. He never meant it to happen, but regrets were like wishes and worth little in the end.  

It started after the snap to bring everyone back, after nearly losing Tony on the battlefield. The nightmares haunted him every time he closed his eyes, a million other ways things could have gone. He’d had the fate of the world in his hands as he had carried the gauntlet. One wrong move and Peter would have been responsible for their loss.  

It probably wasn’t the healthiest way to cope, or maybe it wasn’t coping at all. May had suggested he talk to a therapist, but Peter had brushed her off, telling her the things she needed to hear, that he was sleeping, though he wasn’t, that he didn’t see the dead when he closed his eyes, even though he was. He’d never forget the bodies or the smell of burning flesh. They might have won, but people died, people were hurt.  

Tony was hurt, but then, at least he was alive. Scarred but healing. 

Recovering from battle meant that Tony was busy and not looking too closely, which was how Peter managed to avoid his attention, which was how no one noticed when Peter tried drugs for the first time.  

He'd gotten the heroin from a drug dealer he’d webbed up. It hadn’t been his plan to keep it, but he found himself gripping the baggie in his hand and swinging away. There was a thrill to keeping it, instead of making sure it went to the police. It had taken him a few hours at home to decide to use it, and another hour of googling to realize he’d need some supplies to make that happen. In the end, he had tucked it under his mattress and made the decision to find a needle and lighter the next day.  

The next day came after a fitful sleep, guilt and curiosity warring in him. May went to work and wouldn’t be back until morning. It was the weekend, so he didn’t need to worry about school, and the only thing he could think about was whether the drugs would give him any relief, any bit of freedom and happiness in the darkness he was living.  

He sat on his bed with the bedroom door closed even though no one else was home. He arranged the syringe, spoon, lighter, and baggie of drugs on the mattress. The water he’d need to dissolve the heroin was on the nightstand, a room temperature bottle of Poland Spring.  

From everything he’d read, he estimated that he’d have plenty of time to come down before morning. That was if this even worked with his metabolism. Regular pain pills barely worked on him, and heroin was an opiate in the same family.  

Checking the time on his phone, he steeled himself to start. Following all the steps he’d seen on YouTube, and you really could learn anything on the internet, he prepped the drug in the spoon and then drew the top layer of the solution off the spoon. The whole process reminded him of chemistry class.  

He let out a shaky breath as he studied the contents of the needle and then put the spoon and lighter and baggie away in his nightstand.  

It was just him, the syringe.  

“Shit,” Peter said, as he realized he needed a tourniquet.  

Setting the needle down on the mattress, he rummaged through his closet for something to use. With a thudding heart and shaky hands, he found his tie from homecoming and, with a moment’s hesitation, grabbed it and went back to the bed.  

Pushing down his fears, he knotted the tie around his upper arm as tight as he could and uncapped the needle.  

Doing like the videos said, he found a vein, inserted the needle, and then drew back to get blood. He depressed the plunger fully, his hyper-aware senses feeling the tepid mixture in his vein. When the syringe was empty, he recapped it and tossed it on his nightstand, loosened the tourniquet, and laid back on against his pillows.  

He immediately felt a rush. It reminded him a little of his super pain pills that Bruce had designed but more intense. His mouth went a little dry, and his skin flushed. When he tried to move his arms, they felt heavy.  

He let his eyes close and enjoyed the feeling of heavy warmth envelop him. His thoughts, which had been dashing around his brain, slowed to cold molasses, and he relished the freedom from his chaotic, depressing mess that was his mind..  

Feeling relaxed and floaty, he let himself drift off to a dreamless sleep. 

XXX 

Over the next few weeks, Peter tried to explain away his hunt for more drug deals to interrupt as just being a diligent hero, doing his part, but secretly he knew that it was because he wanted more drugs, and that was the easiest way to get them.  

He always waited until May was working the overnight to use, and each time it got easier, the motions of preparing the drug becoming like second nature. His healing factor hid what would have been track marks on his arm, and the drug was wiped from his system by his high metabolism soon after taking it, so it didn’t seem like much of a risk.  

That didn’t mean he didn’t know what he was doing was wrong. On some level, he did, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t find reasons to make it less of a bad thing and more positive. It was honestly hard to argue with the benefits, not when on nights he used to struggle with his dreams, he now got real sleep. It finally gave him a little peace.  

As weeks of using turned to months, Peter’s appetite slipped, and his demeanor started to change. Living became about when he could get high next, and the waits made him irritable, and even May noticed.  

“How many days in a row do you plan on coming home and slamming your bedroom door?” May asked from the doorway to his room.  

He’d wanted to come straight home and shoot up, but May had changed her shifts this week and was home the last few nights, including this one. It meant he couldn’t risk doing it. If she caught him using, he didn’t want to think about what she’d do. His spider-manning days would be over. And she’d tell Tony, who didn’t need the stress. Honestly, Peter wasn’t sure who he feared finding out more, May or Tony. Neither was an option. He needed to play it safe even if that meant going without for a few days. 

And going without shouldn’t have been such a big deal, but he was finding his skin itched, and he couldn’t make his muscle relax. The only thing that gave him some relief was moving, but he worried that alone might be enough for May to catch on. She’d worked in the ER enough to recognize the symptoms of withdrawal, though maybe she wouldn’t believe Peter would ever have a reason to go through that.  

“Sorry, May. I haven’t been sleeping that much lately.” He fought the urge to bounce his leg. “I shouldn’t be taking it out on you.” He tried to stop himself from scratching his arm, but his fingers still twitched. “I’ll do the dishes tonight.” 

May pushed her glasses up her nose, eyes roving over him. Finally, her shoulders dropped, and she sighed. “Fine, thank you. I’m making meatloaf tonight. It’ll be ready in an hour. I expect you to make an appearance.” 

“Yeah, I’ll be out. Sorry again for acting like a jerk.” 

She gave him a small smile. “Larb you.” 

“Larb you, too.” 

After dinner, Peter packed his kit and headed for the roof. He told May he was patrolling, but he didn’t even wear his suit. He took the stairs and went out to the chair over by the vent. May had gone to binge watch her favorite shows in her room, so she wouldn’t come looking for Peter if he was late.  

Shooting up on the roof wasn’t the best circumstances, but it was better than May walking in on him. If he didn’t take as much as usual, he could come down enough to go back inside before long. It would just take the edge off. That’s all he wanted.  

Sitting in the chair, he opened the small canvas bag and pulled out his supplies. He made quick work of the prep and was ready to inject in minutes.  

Once he depressed the plunger, he counted in his head until he hit five, and he was already feeling it. The awful twitching and ache in muscles faded, and he relaxed. Recapping the needle, he dropped it on the roof and closed his eyes, sliding down in the chair until his head was resting against the back. 

He nearly drifted off to sleep when he felt his pocket vibrate. It took him a minute to put together that it was his phone. He couldn’t find it in himself to care enough to answer, though, so he just waited it out.  

A second later, the phone rang again, and again, he ignored it.  

The cool fall air stirred, and he scrubbed his hand over his face. Checking his watch, he saw it had been almost two hours since he came up to the roof. His head was still hazy, but he needed to get back. 

Grabbing his bag, he pushed himself to his feet and made his way to the side of the building, hopping over the side and scurrying over to the fire escape. He wasn’t sure if May would still be in her room, so he figured he should use his window since she thought he was patrolling.  

The next day, Peter felt a lot better, but he was feeling the need to use again by the end of the day. It was becoming harder and harder to get through the whole day. It started to worry Peter, he didn’t like giving over control, but he squashed the feeling down and focused on his homework.  

His phone came to life on the desk, and he glanced over at it. On the screen was the familiar image of the Iron Man helmet. He felt a rush of fear go through him, like if he answered, somehow Tony would know what he’d been doing.  

Before he could decide what to do, the phone went quiet again. He felt a little relief now that the ringing had stopped. 

He really should talk to Tony, though. Ignoring his calls was never good. It always made him more intense, more curious, pushier. Peter knew it was because he cared, but Peter didn’t need to be babysat. He’d been through so much, space, death, coming back, and fighting for the fate of the world. Of course, Tony wouldn’t agree with Peter’s coping technique, but it worked for him, and what harm was it doing? He was keeping the drugs off the street, away from someone who could overdose or be killed. He’d bet with his metabolism that he couldn’t overdose if he tried. 

His skin was starting to crawl, and he needed another fix. Kneeling down beside his bed, he shoved his hand between the mattress and box spring. When his fingers brushed over the flimsy plastic bag, he snatched it and pulled it out. Disappointment washed over him when he saw it was empty. He would have sworn he’d had some left. Had he really used it all? He knew he’d been using more, but it didn’t seem like that much. 

Crushing the bag in his hand, he tossed it into the wastebasket and let a heavy breath out his nose. What was he going to do? It wasn’t easy to find the right drug deals to get what he needed. It was always hit or miss what they would be dealing in. Working his jaw, he realized he didn’t have a choice. He was going to have to go out. 

Just as he went to his closet to get his suit, his phone came to life again, and Peter nearly growled at the interruption. He was focused on finding drugs. He didn’t have time to talk, and who called anyway? Why couldn’t they just text?

He forcefully swiped the phone from his desk, briefly glancing at the caller ID. It was Tony because, of course, it was Tony. The universe hated him. 

His muscles ached, and his hands shook as he held the phone in front of him. He swept to answer, bringing the phone to his ear, and squeezing his eyes shut like it would help him hide. 

“What?” Peter breathed before Tony could answer. The longer the call took, the longer he’d have to wait to get his next fix. 

“Is that how you’re answering your phone these days? I guess I wouldn’t know since this is the first time you’ve answered in weeks. Why is that, Peter?”

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose in a very Tony way. He tried to push down his annoyance. “Sorry, Mr. Stark. Can this wait? I’m kinda busy right now.”

“I won’t lie and say that doesn’t hurt my feelings, Pete. I thought we were past this stuff, and since when do you call me Mr. Stark. It’s been Tony since, you know, Thanos and all that.”

Peter didn’t need a reminder. Peter had been calling him Tony more, but the formal moniker offered some distance, which right now, Peter needed. He felt caught out in the open, like at any moment, Tony would just know and call him out. He didn’t want to give up his new coping mechanism, no matter how controversial it might be. 

“We are past it,” Peter said honestly. 

“Do you know why I’ve been calling you?”

Peter sighed with a shrug. “I don’t know? You’re bored because Pepper won’t let you turn the toaster sentient?”

He heard Tony’s breathy chuckle on the other end. “Maybe a little of that, but more that May is worried. She called me a few days ago, telling me how you have changed. You’re snappier, angry, always seem tired. She even thought you’d been losing weight.”

Peter pursed his lips as his jaw ticked. “She shouldn’t have called you.”

“So you don’t deny what she’s saying?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Tony’s tone was firm when he spoke. “Don’t lie to me, Peter. Tell me what’s going on? Are you having trouble with nightmares again? Christ knows you’ve seen some shit.”

Peter stood there quietly, afraid to talk, afraid he might betray himself and say the wrong thing. 

“Answer me, kid.”

“I don’t have anything to say. I wasn’t handling things, dying, Thanos, coming back, but I’ve found something that’s working. It’s helping, so don’t worry about it.” He took a breath and tacked on a, “Please.”

It was Tony’s turn to be silent. A few seconds passed, then Tony cleared his throat. “I don’t know if that makes me worry more or less. It could just be me projecting, but I’m something of an expert on shitty coping mechanisms. Part of me thinks that if it wasn’t something to worry about, you’d tell me.”

“I can’t, please, just leave it,” Peter breathed.

“Okay,” Tony sighed. “Okay, we’ll do this your way, but if things get to be too much, call me. I’m always here for you, kid. I didn’t just bend time and space to get you back because I didn’t mean something to me. Promise me you’ll call.”

“If I need you, anything, I’ll call, but I swear, Tony, I got this.”

They ended the call, and Peter tossed his phone on the bed. Scrubbing a hand over his face and ruffling his hair, he pushed down his conflicting emotions and looked at his closet where his suit hung. It would all be better once he found some drugs. They’d make it all better. He’d be able to be himself, to think. Lying to himself was easy.

Patrol took him all over the city, but he couldn’t find any heroin. Weed didn’t do anything for him, and his metabolism burned through cocaine too fast to bother. As time went on, he felt the withdrawal more and more. It was like a caged beast inside him, clawing at his chest, tearing at his muscles. He felt the need to use burning through his very core. 

Panic started to build in him as he realized he might not find any. He didn’t know what he would do if he couldn’t. Without any other ideas, Peter headed to an area that he knew people used. Maybe he could sneak some away from a passed out junkie. 

When he got there, he immediately saw someone. A woman was slumped by a dirty cardboard box, syringe still in her hand, spoon on the ground. She looked like she was sleeping. 

Taking a look around to make sure no one else was looking, he crept closer to her, eyes searching for leftover drugs. He caught the edge of a bag sticking out of her pocket. Relief flooded him. It wasn’t until he was tugging the bag out of her jacket that he realized she wasn’t moving at all, and he couldn’t hear her heartbeat. It was then that he saw how pale she was, lips tinged blue. 

There were a lot of things Peter knew he should do, call for help, make sure someone found her, a million other things, but what he found himself doing was snatching the bag the rest of the way from her pocket and clenching it in his fist. There wasn’t much, but it would be enough to take the edge off. Then he looked her over one last time and took off toward the rooftops. 

He made it a block before the weight of what he’d done crashed down on him, and he collapsed on a roof, down on all fours and panting, feeling his stomach roll. The image of the woman wouldn’t leave his mind. What was thinking? What was he becoming? This wasn’t him. This wasn’t Spider-Man. He didn’t recognize himself anymore. 

He pulled his mask off just in time for bile to come splattering on the gravelly roof. 

Spitting on the ground, he pushed himself up and sat back on his knees. His HUD was alive and active with his stats. His heart was beating a little too fast. He wondered how much was his emotional state and how much was withdrawal. 

The worst part was he was still holding the baggie, and he didn’t want to let it go, even though he knew how wrong it was to keep it. Was this what he’d come to? Scavenging drugs from the dead. At least when he was taking them from dealers, he could reason that he was saving a life, but that wasn’t the case anymore. How had he gotten here, and how did he get back?

He remembered his conversation only hours earlier. Pulling his mask back over his face, he thought about what he really wanted, and he knew in his heart that it was to be free again, but he was afraid that would never happen. If there was any hope of getting back to normal, there was only one option. Peter just hoped he’d understand. 

“Karen,” Peter’s voice broke, “call Tony.”

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [1077]

"They've taken to calling you the Wolf, now.” Bull pauses, searching the Ellana’s face for reaction. All he finds is exasperation, maybe a hint of embarrassment. “Not what you were going for, I think.”

“Trying to find proof of god is much more difficult than you would think; considering we live in a world full of magic and demons and spirits of all sorts. One would think that since all of these things exist and there are so many gods that are worshipped and spoken of I’d be able to find at least one.” Ellana turns away from him; attention shifting back to to the fire she’s building up. “And you’d think that this one would the easy one to find! There’s always stories about the Wolf coming from wherever he stays to mess with mortals. You practically hear a new story about him every few months.”

“And yet?” Bull prods when Ellana falls silent.

“And yet I have yet to find him,” Ellana continues with a long sigh as she coaxes the fire into life, rocking back and forth on her heels as she stares into it. “I am in need of help from a god — and so I’ve tried to find one. And yet I have yet to succeed in catching even the slightest glimpse of one. I’m looking for other ones, too. I just thought the Wolf would be the easiest to get a trail on.”

“And in the process you’ve been helping people, solving problems, cutting through misunderstandings, and dispelling rumors. And now people think you’re the Wolf because you keep doing the impossible with neat little tricks.”

“Everything always comes around to bite me,” Ellana scowls into the fire, “I sometimes wonder why I even bother. The stories are getting muddled and convoluted. I’m trying to find the real, actual, Wolf to petition for help. Instead I’m getting stories about myself, now. I don’t understand how it’s happening. I go to the village or township or farm or wherever. They tell me about their problem and I wait around for a little bit and then the Wolf doesn’t show.


“And you can’t leave people in trouble.”

“Right. So I end up offering a solution and then suddenly I’m the Wolf somehow? It doesn’t make sense. What about all the places where the Wolf is supposed to have already shown up? Shouldn’t they know better than that? Even when I go to places where they say that the Wolf has shown up already and ask around I don’t get anything. I talk to the person the Wolf helped and they explain to me the problem and they always go — I wonder how the Wolf fixed it! And usually it’s something so simple, you know? Like based on what they’re describing the Wolf probably only had to uproot a tree and burn out its roots where it’d grown too deep and was starting to clog a waterway. Or maybe the Wolf just needed to remove a beaver dam. But when you tell the people that they suddenly look at you like you’re something impossible.”

“You’re explaining the mystery to them, and so they think you’re part of it.”

“What a ridiculous conclusion to jump to! Just because I’m applying common sense logic to acts of god I must be the god in question? As though only the Wolf could think of such answers? Bah!” Ellana scrubs a hand through her hair. “Sometimes I wonder if these gods are all that — but I know they’ve done some real miracles. They have. There are some things that can’t be explained except by strong magic. And that’s what I’m trying to find but it’s so frustrating. I’m chasing myself, I’m chasing a ghost, I’m chasing a god. I’m chasing too many things and I never realize what I’ve got a hold on until its too late.”

Bull walks to stand closer to her and the fire, keeping his voice low, “You’re running out of time.”

Ellana covers her face with a hand. “I know.”

“If you can’t find one,” Bull says carefully — Ellana’s never been particularly fussed by another person’s diction. She’s always been able to hear what you really mean. But for this Bull thinks a little extra caution in his wording won’t hurt — “Evelyn wouldn’t blame you. No one would. We’re shooting for a miracle here. And Evelyn’s had enough of those that finding yet another one seems slim.”

Ellana looks up at him. “She is one of my best friends.”

“I know.”

“She is doing something very dangerous and very important. I even dare to say that what she is doing is critical to the future of Thedas as a whole.”

“It is,” Bull agrees, holding still when Ellana shuffles closer to him to lean her head on his shoulder. He carefully brushes some of her hair behind her ear.

“She can’t die yet.” Ellana’s voice grows soft and pained. He hears her faint sniffle. “I don’t want my friend to die, the Iron Bull. But at the rate things are progressing — she will and in time the rest of Thedas will follow. Unless I can find an act of god.”

Bull has nothing to say to that. Nothing Ellana would want to hear, anyway.

“Any luck with the others?” Ellana asks.

“Pavus thinks he might have made some progress,” Bull replies. “I don’t know if that’s true. De Fer seems to disagree.”

“That’s how they always are, though.”

“I’m not really keeping up with the rest,” Bull admits. “You’re the one with the most interesting time of it.”

“Because in my search for god I’ve inadvertently become one?” Ellana wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, sniffling.

“Among other things, yeah.” Bull runs his palm over her back. “Come back to Skyhold. We’re running out of time. No one would think less of you. Trying to physically find a god is a task no one ever would’ve asked of you. Of anyone.”

“If it was you, you could do it,” Ellana mutters. “You could do anything.”

Bull laughs under his breath, “You’re biased.”