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imaginationjunkie · 3 years

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Dancing with our hands tied

Jason Todd x Reader

It’s kinda soft

Thought of these songs while writing, so give them a listen while reading!

Note: Jason’s 25 and the reader is 21

I was always a fan of the over the top charity galas Bruce Wayne threw. The elitists in their flashy riches, extravagant decorations and endless varieties of food, and a certain Wayne brother in a suit. It was all very amusing to witness.

I felt like a princess walking down the stairs with Tim every time, who refused to ever get an actual date. So I’d been stuck being his unofficial date for the 5 years that I’d known him. Not that I minded much; he was my best friend after all.

I chose a simple flowy dress tonight, blood red in color, silky like water. The subtle eyes that followed me through the evening didn’t go unnoticed.

But my eyes followed just one sight. A sight that erupted the unwanted greenness of jealousy as I sulked in a corner, celebrating turning 21 recently with a champagne flute in hand.

I felt him before I saw him. Warmth soothed my skin at his presence, despite the fact that I was unfairly mad at him. It wasn’t like he was my boyfriend.

Easier to say than do, and thus all the salt in the world seemed to be in my tone as I spoke first.

“Where’s your date?”

Jason Todd’s eyes might’ve been cool blue, but the feel of them didn’t match the description. The side of my head felt like it would burst into golden flames under the intensity of his stare.

But they were the good kind of flames, the best kind of flames. It was almost miraculous, the way I managed to keep my calm.

“She bailed, something about her sick grandma,” was his soft response.

“Hmm.”

“What’s with the tone?” He leaned closer, hot breath teasing my cheek. Jason had gotten awfully bold since the first time we met, when he couldn’t even look into my eyes straight.

“Is it jealousy I sense?”

I tried to be subtle about my sharp inhale. Judging by the stutter of his lips as he suppressed a smirk, I failed.

But why hide anymore? I was never one to hold back anyway. “Yes, it is.”

It was my turn to take his breath away. I turned my head, challenging him with my stare. But I was too tangled in his game to play in charge. He had me, and he knew it. Right?

A smile filled with swirls of mischief and satisfaction designed his lips. Yes, he definitely knew it.

It caught me off guard, the unfiltered beauty of it. Of him. Watching Jason Todd smile, really smile, was not for the weak hearted.

“Then I think you’ll be happy to know that she wasn’t a date. Just a friend.”

Eyes the color of a swirling blue sea, a face handsome enough to cause heartache. Why’d it take me so long to realize that I could never resist him? Not even in a million years. Not even if Ryan Gosling came offering himself to me.

A little too far?

Maybe, but it’s true. What to do?

I was just about to walk away from him, refill the empty flute of champagne to bring back sparkle to my uneventful evening. A large hand wrapping around my wrist stopped me.

“Let’s dance,” he said with the softness of tulle, pulling my frame closer to his larger one. Close enough to smell his cologne. Like a creep in the street, I subtly took a slow sniff of it.

It’d never stop amusing me, how a man who seemed as rough and rugged around the edges as he did had so much softness in him.

And smelled so. damn. good.

“M’kay,” I agreed, following as he led the way to the ballroom. Or so I thought.

“I thought you wanted to dance?” I inquired, looking back at the flashing dance floor full of people we left behind.

“I do.” His eyes twinkled as he looked back at me, still walking to God knows where with my hand in his.

“We literally just crossed the dance floor, where else on earth do you plan on taking me dancing?”

“Who said anything about a dance floor?” Jason smirked, coming to a stop in the garden behind the manor.

Even though it was off limits to Bruce’s guests tonight, the garden looked particularly beautiful. Strings of fairy lights decorated the flawlessly kept greens and flowers, courtesy of Alfred. The pool lights were on, and a surreal soft blue glow lit up the water.

It matched Jason’s eyes.

But that wasn’t all. Long fingers tilted my chin up, and a gasp reverberated the air as my eyes met the mystical view. Stars glittered the midnight canvas endlessly, and in the center of it all sat the full moon like a queen.

She was regal tonight.

My mouth was slightly open in awe, and Jason’s fingers on my chin softly closed it as he chuckled.

“I’m guessing you like the view?”

“Like it? I might as well marry it!” I exclaimed, eyes wide with glee as I gripped his shoulders.

“Dick used to bring his, ahem, lady companions to charm them back when I was Robin. I’d always barge in and interrupt to interrogate about the last woman I saw with him,” he laughed while recalling the memory.

“Did it work?” I smiled back and stood closer to him, the fronts of our bodies slightly touching. My hands had come down to rest on his chest now, and while my eyes were up roaming the sky, my soul’s attention was solely on him.

He shuffled with something in his suit pocket. “Did what work?”

“Dick’s method of charming the ladies?”

“Judging by the walks of shame Alfred and I had to witness every morning after each Wayne gala, yes. It very much did.”

I felt Jason put something in my ear, and finally looked down from the stars to his eyes in confusion. It was an airpod, and I watched silently as he put the other one in his ear.

“I promise I’m not a creep or anything, but I stalked your Spotify playlists and found one titled ‘dancing under the stars’.” He confessed. In a very un-Jason like manner, he looked almost sheepish.

He didn’t look at me as he pressed play and pocketed his phone. Almost immediately ‘Dancing with our hands tied’ by Taylor Swift came on, and he took my hand in his.

Tingles shot up the pit of my stomach as his free arm wrapped around my waist, fingers resting on my hip. We swayed in beat to the music in our ears, eyes on eyes.

I, I loved you in secret First sight, yeah, we love without reason Oh, twenty-five years old Oh, how were you to know,

The lords, and anyone who knew me actually, knew how big of a swiftie I was. The fact that he had put in the effort to pick the absolute perfect song to dance to had to be the most romantic thing that ever happened to me.

I was completely mesmerized. Guys like this only existed in the encasement of my stash of romance novels; but time and time Jason Todd had proved that idea wrong. Every one of his gestures, one after the other, seemed to catch me off guard more than the previous one.

“Wanted to do this since I was 17,” I breathed the fresh air in, craning my neck to rest my chin on his shoulder. This right here was all I needed to relax. This was my very own customized form of peace.

“Yeah, Tim let it slip when he got drunk on your birthday and started blabbing about how you’re growing up in front of his eyes,” he laughed and pulled back to twirl me.

I crashed back into his chest softly, grinning at his revelation.

“It’s so hard to believe you guys are best friends, that Timmy’s actually capable of having normal human conversations other than his usual nerdy blabber,” Jason continued, pulling me even closer to him while dancing.

No objections were made from my side as I obliged (obviously), staring up at his eyes.

They were like an oceanic maze, too easy to get lost in. Too dangerous to get lost in.

“He’s a good friend. Awfully robot-like at times though, and he always smells of coffee.” I breathed with a chuckle as the air around us got intense.

The gold of the fairy lights hit his eyes, making them shine brighter than the stars above I let my hands grip the hairs on his neck, watching carefully as he took a sharp breath in response.

If there was something Jason and my relationship, whatever that it was, didn’t lack, it was moments like these. Moments where we had a conversation with our eyes, expressing how much we wanted to kiss each other, how much we wanted to stay frozen in the present and relish in the feel of our undeniable chemistry.

It had been going on for way too long, and even Tim was getting tired of us not taking the leap of faith.

Initially he was pretty against it, but when he saw exactly how much I felt for his brother, his blessings for us suddenly started pouring in.

“Uhuh,” Jason hummed. An electric sensation buzzed the air around us as the chorus hit, and all the space between our bodies vanished. Butterflies went haywire in the places of my body he touched. He was everywhere.

But we were dancing Dancing with our hands tied, hands tied Yeah, we were dancing Like it was the first time, first time

“Stop me if you don’t want it,” he harshly whispered, brows furrowed and eyes clouded with desire as he tucked a few loose strands of my hair behind my ear.

“I do,” I whispered in response, knowing exactly what he meant.

His breath hit my lips, forehead fell against mine in a moment of desire and the next thing I knew, he was kissing me.

It was needy and rushed and a thousand other adjectives, but it was my most perfect kiss. It would always be my most perfect kiss.

Jason’s muscular arms encircled my waist as he pressed me up against him, gripping my sides and lifting me to stand on his feet. My own arms wrapped around his neck, and a sneaky stutter of a moan escaped my lips, earning me a groan from him.

Passion burned us under the cool night air as we kissed and kissed and kissed, all thoughts of oxygen forgotten in our haze of need.

But even our passion couldn’t defy nature. We pulled back to breathe in as much air as we could, but instead of diving back in towards each other’s lips like I expected us to, Jason simply stared at me with eyes that now looked navy from being hooded.

It was a stare of a few seconds that seemed like hours as his thumbs brushed the side of my face. The fire of need from a while back was gone, but the desire wasn’t.

We both tried to calm ourselves, but an unstoppable part of me leaned up to press a kiss on his cheek. He blushed.

“Wanted to do that since you were 17,” he said cheekily, hands tracing my back as we now let ‘Wonderland’ by Taylor amuse our ears.

“Liar,” I grinned. “You couldn’t even look at me back then.”

“Yeah, because I’d do this if I looked at you for more than 5 seconds. I had no plans of going to jail for getting handsy with a minor,” he replied, leading us to the wooden benches Bruce had installed in the garden a few weeks earlier.

I lifted a teasing brow, masking my shock at the fact that he wanted to kiss me even back then.

“And how’re you so sure I would’ve let you get handsy with me? For all you know I could have kicked you in the balls myself.”

“Don’t act coy, you could never stop staring at me when you were over,” he smirked, sitting down on the bench and pulling me to his lap.

I hesitated for a second, my brain getting lost in the fact that after months of banters and unbelievable tension, interruptions and two sided pining, I was finally in this position. Where we were able to be open about our want for each other.

Sensing my hesitation, his smirk dropped. “This is okay right?”

I snapped back to reality, taking his nervous expression in. Yes, this was real. And I wouldn’t waste a second of the time God gave me with Jason. I smirked and ran my fingers through his dark locks, making him close his eyes.

“Of course it is, just thinking about how long it took for you to man up and kiss me,”

“Excuse me, you could’ve-”

I cut him off by pressing my lips to his. He responded almost immediately, putting his hand on my hip as I sat sideways on his lap. Unlike the first one, this kiss was sweet and slow. We were cherishing the night with it.

“About damn time, I thought all my teeth were gonna fall out due to old age before Todd here grew some balls,” the sudden voice of a certain sass filled Wayne interrupted us.

My magical night with Jason ended with him running after his kid brother Damian, teasing him about kicking his ass.

But that was okay, because I was happy. Jason was happy. The long wait for him, for us, was worth it.

Even though he gave off the impression that he couldn’t care less, I knew that the reason he hadn’t made a move was because he wanted Tim to be completely fine with us being a thing.

Alongside being friends with Tim, I became friends with his brothers and Alfred over the years. I knew of their nightlife, and everything that went on behind the polished doors of the Wayne Manor. I knew Jason well enough to know that his tough posterior and damn care attitude was just a facade.

Being with Jason wouldn’t be a walk in the park, and I knew that too. He was reckless and intense, impulsive and careless.

But he was also sweet and passionate, and his love would brand you like a tattoo with it’s depth. I was willing to give my 110% to make it work with him.

Because even fairy tales take sacrifice and effort to get a happy ending. And I’d do about anything to make sure I earned mine.

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lovelivingmydreams · 4 years

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Aparently writing fanfics about Sanders sides AU’s is a thing that I do now

So some of you might know @rondoel made this really cool comic thing about king creativity. Master post here for those who don’t. The internet was given permission to do whatever they want with it. So this is not ‘canon’ to that comic, but an idea that won’t let me be until I write it down. So here’s part one of two:

Lost in thought

Virgil took a deep breath as he wrapped himself around baby Patton and looked up to Janus and Logan expectantly. They were both bowed over a desk with several memories and notes scattered all over. They hadn’t even noticed he’d left the room, and that might’ve been for the best. His attempt at talking to the king hadn’t gone as well as he’d hoped. He hadn’t been optimistic enough to think that upon his apology the king would split and Roman would run over and embrace him and get everything back to normal. But he’d thought something might change, anything at all. But now all he’d accomplished was making himself feel even worse.

Was Roman really gone gone? Forever?

And Remus? Sure he was a pain to deal with sometimes, but… they’d grown up together.

Virgil wanted them back, even if this new guy- well new to him- hadn’t been so scary, he wanted his friends back. Thomas was sleeping and likely wouldn’t get out of bed until he really had to in order to eat and drink tomorrow. They had survived a day in this chaos, only because Thomas was taking a break. Their host was still exhausted and would likely not be overly active for the next week. And with things being how they are, that was a good thing.

With his coherent thoughts muted, his moral compass and emotions reduced to a non-verbal child and his anxiety incapable of properly analyzing the situation out of fear of causing absolute chaos in the mindscape… None of that could be good. At least Thomas wouldn’t call for them unless king gave him a very urgent reason to. Virgil took a deep breath and returned his attention to the present. Hopeful that Logan and Janus had come up with something after a full day of sitting in this library. Just because Logan was mute, didn’t mean he wasn’t the smartest among them anymore right? And Janus, no matter what else Virgil thought of him, was very clever too. Surely they’d know what to do… Or maybe Virgil could still do something? Logan had once told him that he was needed to get them out of sticky situations when they do come up.

This situation was very sticky.

“Lo? Janus?” he asked softly, mindful of the fact that baby Patton was all tuckered out in his arms.

He gently got up from his spot against the bookcase and readjusted his grip, feeling the way the luxurious fabric moved around his body. The material was soft and warm, but the uniform was nowhere near as comforting as he’d like. He missed his hoodie, but he didn’t dare risk going into his room to look for it in his current condition. Still… maybe he could ask one of the other’s to see if they could find one, even if it was his old pre ‘fitting in’ hoodie… It always made him feel safe. Big enough to hide away in when the world became too much and to hide how small and weak he looked. This outfit made him look like a child next to the others. He never liked that about his appearance. Despite being a nearly thirty year old adult like everyone else, he still looked like a teenager whose body hadn’t fully caught up with his new height. No wonder the king looked down on him. In his eyes, he was probably just a kid. King clearly felt like he was older and wiser than all of them…

He shook himself out of his thoughts. He has to focus on here and now.

“What should we do?” he asked.

The two older sides exchanged a glance, Logan nodded and Janus cleared his throat uneasily.

“We can’t do much…” he admitted reluctantly. King had apparently been right, with everyone else out for the count, his ability to lie was near nonexistent.

“Neither of us are strong enough to stand up to him., he has made sure of that. And even if we were all at full strength, I don’t think me or Logan, even if we were to work together, would be able to match him now. Not even if Patton helped us. Creativity has matured with Thomas and grown stronger. You might stand the best chance, but in your current condition…”

“Me?” Virgil asked shocked. He was only ‘powerful' when Thomas was really overwhelmed or in imminent danger. That is when he could shut everyone else up, or focus them on a single task. And even then he had little control over even himself.

“Yes Virgil,” Janus insisted looking at him like the words held the key to world peace. “Like I explained earlier, he has nothing against you personally.

This is about me, Logan and Patton. But he knows you can shut his ideas down with just a few well-placed doubts in Thomas’ head, as he himself acknowledged. And he is right to fear you Virgil. You were a great source of motivation for Thomas to get creative, but you can take that motivation away just as easily.”

Virgil shook his head. Shutting creativity down completely? Even if… well no, Janus was right. He could. He had told Roman no so often in the past and despite Roman’s promises to strike him down he never even tried. When Thomas asked to get rid of him that first video, Roman hadn’t even tried to confront him head on, pretended they weren’t in the same room… Had Roman been afraid of him? Could he truly hit the brakes? No out of the question.

“I get that we can’t let him just run the place, but Thomas… I can’t hurt Thomas like that. He needs his creativity too much, especially now with everything… It would be devastating,” he insists as he gently runs his fingers through baby Patton’s hair. Creativity helps Thomas cope when life becomes too much.

He catches sight of Logan looking down in what he believes is shame. Why? What was everyone’s deal with this creativity?

“Maybe, if I knew what happened, before me, before the split,” he tries. “Maybe I could try talking to him again? See if he can see it our way?” he suggested. He wanted Roman and Remus back. But his priority had to be with the others. Who knew if the brothers would be able to reverse what the king did? Or if things would go back to normal once the king disappeared? He couldn’t risk that. So first, help everyone else and then see if they can get the twins back. He hated prioritizing like that, but it was for Thomas.

Janus and Logan exchanged another look and then, as one, shook their heads at Virgil.

Logan silently cleaned up their research and turned away to head to his room without another wo… well, glance. It was so fast Virgil couldn’t even decipher the emotion that had flashed underneath the surface of his stoic mask.

Janus on the other hand put on a comforting smile and patted him on the shoulder in an overly friendly gesture. “This is not your burden to carry Virgil. It doesn’t matter anyway. We’ll think of something. You just focus on staying calm and looking after Patton, alright?”

Without waiting for an answer Janus hurriedly followed Logan and left Virgil alone and slightly frustrated in the library. Great. Just great. It wasn’t the first time he asked about the king. Even before this whole mess, he'd been curious for ages. But he was always dismissed with “it's in the past" and the like. But now it wasn’t in the past anymore and the other’s were still leaving him in the dark. What were they hiding?

Virgil sighed and started wandering. Or he wanted to wander but his “promotion” seemed to lead him to his “ boss’ ” domain the second he lost focus. Soon he found himself stranded in the never ending fields of imagination. Virgil stopped walking, not wanting to interrupt his majesty again, and tried to focus on Patton's steadily moving chest.

He was scared. Without much else to distract him, even the task of protecting baby Patton would soon seize to keep the bad thoughts at bay. Especially with everything being so terrible.

He wanted Roman to be here. He'd know how to distract him. At the very least he wanted his music so he could agonize in peace for a little while. When he listened to music, he could sort through the feelings without them actually translating into thoughts. Just then he saw something appear at his feet.

Curiously he sat down Indian style and noted to his delight that it was his headphones and a music player. He eagerly put it on and scrolled trough the lists. It had all of their Spotify lists downloaded as well as a list that just read ‘TSS’. As he scrolled trough it he learned that it contained all of their lists combined into one along with every song Thomas had ever created and/or performed.

Well. That would do it. He put on the phones, curled himself around Patton once more and started humming.

#Sanders Sides #King Creativity #king ay #Rondoel #my headcanon for that au #Second part will follow

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clandonnachaidh · 3 years

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Light Across The Seas That Severed

Read on AO3

It always surprised Jamie Fraser, the things that made him think of Claire Beauchamp. Along with the usual triggers—the gut punch when he caught a whiff of someone wearing her signature perfume, the seizing of his heart when his eyes were automatically drawn to messy brown curls on a stranger walking down the high street, the ache in his chest when someone walked past who had the same cadence as her laugh—it was the small, unexpected ones that hurt the most.

He could be walking into the village and see her hair in the colours of the water as it ruffled over the rocks in the burn, so real to him that it felt as though he could reach out and tangle it through his fingers. His carefully curated playlist would end and Spotify would betray him, blasting a song that he had kept at bay, conjuring memories of the two of them dancing like fools on the nights that they laughed so loud that it seemed even the walls shook as they brushed their teeth in the cramped bathroom of their dorm.

It was torture. A delicious kind, but torture nonetheless. One that he had thought to turn into prose—at the recommendation of his therapist. It had been explained to him that grief and loss were themes that could be explored in ourselves if we attempted to write them from another’s perspective. And so here he was now, years after she had left him, sitting at his late father’s desk with a whisky in one hand and a pen in the other, trying to make sense of what had happened and how he had ever been stupid enough to watch silently as her light, his Sorcha, slipped from his life.

On yet another night spent in the same position—the room dark with only a lamp beside him to illuminate the black moleskin notebook—he reclined, the chair creaking under his weight. His father’s old office chair, with it’s worn leather and rusty hinges, wasn’t built to accommodate a man of his size but he’d found that it actually helped to coax the words from his brain, as though the physical discomfort made his emotional pain easier to access. He seemed to need a little nudge to allow himself to sink deeper into parts of his past that he had spent so long trying to keep locked away.

When the whisky finally made him brave enough to open the door, the memories flooded out onto the paper: the sight of her pink lips pouted in frustration as she struggled to lift her belongings from the boot of the taxi on the first day of university, the first time she laughed at one of his terrible jokes (why do the French only use one egg to make an omelette, Sassenach? Because one is an oeuf!), the first time he helped her into her coat and his fingertips brushed the skin behind her ear (their maiden voyage to the on campus coffee house, faces taut in disgust as they realised that their unrelenting back and forth had caused their coffees to go cold). He wrote about falling in love with his best friend and why he had wasted so much time worrying about how to tell her.

Jamie had spent hours, days, months, sitting in his father’s chair, consumed by the fruitless pursuit of trying to plot the points of their relationship. Although he could vividly picture the scenes, he didn’t recognise the people anymore. He had been young, too young by half to know what he wanted out of life and she had been more than he could have dreamed of. He had fallen in love with her instantly, as he was sure most people did at the sight of one Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp. But that was years ago and they had both changed, she was living her life in Boston as a brilliant surgeon while Jamie languished in Lallybroch, living in his old bedroom while his sister and her family had the run of the house.

The burn of the whisky slipping down his throat was a pleasant distraction but the batch still made his eyes water slightly and he made a mental note to tell Ian that the recipe could still do with some tweaking before it could be sold under the Mac Dubh name. He had made a modest success of himself, that was true, now the creator of the fourth highest selling whisky in Scotland. Broch Tuarach had changed from a small farming village that nobody really knew of to the home of one of Scotland’s largest and most successful distilleries, and Jamie was often credited with bringing jobs and tourists to the village in numbers that hadn’t been seen before. There had been a boom in the local economy allowing the village to thrive and he was seen as a pillar of the community, people jokingly referring to him as Laird, or the more familiar Himself, when he passed them in the street although the official title was held by some landowner that lived down south somewhere and had only stepped foot in the area once.

Still, he thought, this batch wasn’t ready for marketing just yet. Jamie put the glass down, rubbed his tired eyes with his even more tired fingers and decided to call it a night, making his way down the hall to his bedroom. His limbs felt heavy as he went through the motions of getting ready for bed. Finally stripping off his shirt and jeans and crawling under the covers, he cast a cursory glance at the phone he had left charging on the bedside table.

Sassenach

Missed call 23.02

He screwed his eyes shut before opening them again as if to knock some sense into them but the notification was still there. The rough pad of his thumb hovered over it, almost afraid that if he attempted to open it, it would cease to exist. He pressed the lock button once to blacken the screen, paused, and then pressed it again to bring it into view and still it remained.

It must have been an accident, a slip of the hand while she was trying to call someone else. He reminded himself of the time difference, it would be the early evening where she was and she could be tired after a long day or maybe even rushing between surgeries. She probably hadn’t even noticed that she had called him. He had to fight his inflating ego when he considered the fact that she still had his number, but blushed in shame as he recalled the frightened face of the poor spotty teenage lad in the phone shop who he had made swear that he wouldn’t lose any contacts or photos when he upgraded to his new handset.

Realising that he was now sat straight up in his bed, his heart beating a slightly faster staccato than usual, he opened the notification. Just seeing her name (or rather, his name for her) on his screen again did things to his body that he wasn’t in control of. His hands felt clammy while his mouth was dry. This was different than just scanning her Facebook page in the dark, looking at her perfectly posed pictures that she chose to share, and lamenting the absence of candids that he had so loved taking when they were friends. She found one of them once, one he had snapped of her the day that they had taken the ferry over to the Isle of Arran for a few nights. Knowing that she didn’t have any remaining family, he had insisted that she spend the summer break from university at Lallybroch with his family and she had happily accepted. However, after a few nights in Jamie’s massive ancestral home, filled with more Fraser bodies than they could count, he promised to take her away for a few days of peace and had driven her to the ferry terminal at Claonaig without divulging their destination. They had been blessed with a beautiful summer’s day for the crossing to Lochranza and he’d thanked God that he managed to keep his breakfast in his stomach. Or rather, that he almost had until they were in sight of the island. Jamie had burst from his seat and had made it to the toilet just in time for his stomach to erupt, sweat dampening his brow until his wame was empty. Shivering and definitely worse for wear but at least grateful in the knowledge that there was nothing else to come up, he had returned to the deck of the ferry to see Claire out in the sun, her forearms resting on the railing as she looked out over the water. The way that her hair whipped up in the wind made Jamie’s chest tighten and before he knew it, he had taken out his phone and snapped a picture.

Months later, Claire had snagged his phone from the table of the bar that they were sat in, too quick for Jamie. She quipped an eyebrow at him in victory, chastising him that he had yet to show her pictures of his latest niece when she stumbled across the photo. He watched as her throat bobbed, swallowing emotion that he wished he could taste before looking at him straight in the eye. Without being asked, he told her that he couldn’t help himself. And she smiled shyly before cooing about Jenny’s new daughter.

The memory flooded his senses and Jamie closed his eyes, filling his lungs with a deep breath for a count of four, holding it for a count of four and then letting it out for six in a vain attempt at calming his racing mind. His whole body felt as though it was vibrating, alive for the first time in what he could remember at the mere <em>thought</em> of Claire Beauchamp.

It took Jamie a second to realise that the vibration wasn’t coming from his body. Or rather, it was, but from a specific part of his body. His hand, the one that was holding his phone, was shaking rhythmically, the screen bright against the darkness of the rest of the room.

Sassenach calling…

The breath jittered from his lungs as he tried to take a steady breath. Watching, almost as though someone else was moving his body as he thumb accepted the call and he slowly raised the phone to his ear.

“Claire?”

On the other end of the phone, he heard her let out a heavy breath. His heart seized as he listened to her break, all too familiar with the sound of her crying.

“Claire, are ye hurt? Tell me what’s—“

“Frank is dead.”

Ice fell heavy in his chest at the sound of her voice before he even took stock of the words that she had uttered. To hear her voice again.

“Oh, lass… Mo chridhe, I am so sorry,” he whispered the words, truly meaning them as he wished for nothing but her happiness. Anything to bring her from the pain that she was feeling.

“He— oh God, he’s dead. He’s really dead.”

He knew in that moment that he would cross oceans for her simply to bring her peace. He had always known the truth of what they shared, how he responded to her call but nothing had prepared him for the tsunami of pure need that he would experience when he heard her cry down the phone about her dead husband.

“I’m sorry, mo chridhe, I’m so sorry,” he repeated at the sound of her hyperventilating, his shoulders creeping up around his ears as he wished he could bear the pain for her, “What do you need, Claire? Anything.”

“He’s in the ground,” she whispered as though saying it out loud would make it more true, “God, Jamie, I don’t know what to do.”

Hearing his name fall from her lips was a balm that he didn’t know his soul needed. The hairs on his arms stood to attention as a shiver rippled through him, clenching his jaw to steady himself and give her his full attention.

“Do ye have people around ye, Claire? Have ye folk in Boston?”

#light across the seas that severed #clandonnachaidh #ao3 #outlander fanfic #jamie fraser #Claire beauchamp #outlander #modern au

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sokkas-honour · 3 years

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For the Spotify writing could you do 50 for Korra

ms. california - korra x reader

pairing: korra x reader (gender neutral)

wc: 1.8k

notes/warnings: nothing here folks :)

i love your voice but hate the way, you talk of her consistently

you heard the boats coming in before you saw them, you heard the cheers erupting from a small crowd that had formed around the south pole’s dock, all flocking to catch a glimpse of their avatar coming home. while everyone’s excitement stemmed from seeing what was essentially a hero, you were just excited to finally see your oldest friend whom you hadn’t seen since she had left to go back to republic city after spending time healing with master katara in the south pole.

excitement cursed through your veins at the prospect of seeing your best friend after years of being separated as you ran to mix in with the crowd of natives welcoming one of their own home.

your heart swelled once you finally spotted her, standing proudly at the front of the ship, her mother placed right next to her as they both waved at the crowd. you noticed her newly cut hair that you had only seen in recent varrick industries movers, it looked even better on her in person.

you pushed your way through the crowd, excusing yourself as you bumped into several people, most of them unphased as they kept their gaze on the master of all four elements. you didn’t stop moving until you found yourself next to tonraq, a man who had served as almost a second father to you ever since you were a toddler. your father being one of the water bending masters that kept an eye on korra growing up, meaning you grew up alongside her at the white lotus compound.

“hey y/n, excited?” the chief asked as soon as he noticed your presence next to him, keeping his eyes on his daughter that was fast approaching.

“yes sir.” cheers got louder as the boat finally stopped, chief tonraq invited you to join him as he walked towards the boat, the guards he had enlisted letting you pass in order to join him.

when your eyes met here as she started coming down, you felt a smile grow on your features as you watched her face mirror yours, two old friends finally reuniting.

unexpectedly, korra picked up the pace and wrapped you in a hug as soon as she got near you, taking you by surprise.

“i missed you.” she exclaimed as you were returning it, happy to once again be in her arms. her large coat was soft to the touch but she smelled rather foreign, most likely due to the fact that was living in a bustling city. the sound of her voice was something you didn’t expect to miss so much but now that you finally heard it for the first time in months, you didn’t want to ever go without it again.

“missed you too.” you squeeze her slightly before you two finally broke apart, grins still on your faces as you both eyes each other up and down in order to see if there were any noticeable changes in each other’s appearance.

a little later during the day, after following korra revisit her home town you ended up having dinner at her childhood home. swapping not only childhood stories but also catching up on the things you had missed and that’s when when you found out about her.

one question was asked and suddenly, that’s all korra could talk about, all of her recent experiences being completely thrown out the window to talk about things her girlfriend, asami, had been doing, how her company was doing, some new invention she had come up with in the later hours of the night, a funny thing she had said, everything that was coming out of the avatar’s mouth had something to do with her.

you tried your hardest to engage in the conversation, finding your heart melt at how she talked about asami with so much love and amazement. her eyes sparkled in a way you had never seen them and you felt your heart sting a bit knowing that she’d never talk about you that way, that her eyes would never lit up at the sheer mention of your name. after a couple of minutes of enduring it, you retracted to your own thoughts, letting tonraq and senna interact with their daughter.

but every time you say her name, it honestly kills me

to help digest your food, and because korra insisted she wanted to, you both went on a walk after you finished eating some delicious homemade noodles. the cold didn’t both you as much as you were bundled under your coat, happy to find that outside the sky was clear, no signs of a snow storm in sight.

“sorry, i talked a lot back there.” she immediately said once she stepped out of her home to join you, excusing herself for being the center of attention at her own celebratory dinner.

“you realise that you haven’t been home in ages, and you’re the avatar, you’re the only one with any real stories to tell.” you joked as you started leading her in a random direction, knowing the whole area like the back of your hand meant that no matter where you two went, you wouldn’t get lost.

“come on, life here isn’t that boring.” she laughed lightly at your comment, following you closely so she wouldn’t get lost.

“you’d be surpised.” she rolled her eyes, not believing for one second that her best friend who always loved to live life to the fullest was admitting to living such a monotonous one.

“my dad told me you started teaching people waterbending which means you’re a real master now, that’s cool!” she nudged you lightly, causing a small smile to tug at your lips at the compliment on the full mastering of your skill, something that you were incredibly proud of.

“yeah, it’s not what i plan to do forever but it’s fun.” you shrugged your shoulders slightly before you two fell into a comfortable silence, the only sound between you being the trudging of your boots in the snow and the usual night sounds.

“but i could totally beat your ass, water or all elements, you don’t stand a chance.” you spoke up defiantly while simultaneously holding a joking tone in your words making her stop in her tracks.

“is that so? i’d love to see it.” she placed her hands on her hips as her eyes jokingly narrowed in your direction, thankfully you were still close enough to people’s houses to have some light letting you see her hilarious facial expression that looked identical to the one she used to wear when she was younger.

“how about tomorrow? we can even invite your parents so they see how weak the avatar actually is.” you teased as you suddenly felt the snow beneath your feet shift, causing you to fall backwards. quickly reacting, you brought snow up around the both of your arms to propel yourself forward, directing the snow directly at your friend as soon as your feet were flat on the ground.

korra brought her arms up to stop the snow from hitting her before letting it go limp and drop the ground.

“damnit, i would’ve loved to catch you off guard.” she whined, finally walking up to you after having let you walk by yourself a short distance.

“korra, you called me a master not two seconds ago, did you not think i’d be able to react to that?”

“listen, i didn’t think this through.” she rose her hands up in defence as you laughed, shaking your head at how much your friend could be idiotic when she wanted to.

“no kidding.” your comment earned a gust of air being bent in your face, causing your hood to fly backwards and your face going cold.

you narrowed your eyes at her as she simply stuck her tongue out childishly, causing you to laugh at how immature she was.

“i sure hope your city friends also get to deal with this side of you, would be a shame if they didn’t.” you managed to say once your laughter died down, being met with playfully offended avatar with her arms crossed as she observed you laughing with a quirked eyebrow.

“actually, asami says i’m pretty mature.” she stated matter of factly and you felt your happiness falter slightly at the mention of her girlfriend, wishing you could just go back to five minutes ago when you weren’t reminded of the fact that korra was living a completely different life to yours, one that didn’t involve spending it with you but with some supposed beautiful and genius inventor.

she's your girl, she's in all your pictures. california girl, i wish i was her

the following day, after tiring each other out sparring, you both headed back to her house as she mentionned wanting to show you some pictures she had of her life in republic city. you had barely seen certain staples of it like air temple island and the aang statue inside of books but never anything more.

“this is the spirit portal in the middle of the city.” you had seen numerous times the southern portal but there was something about the new one that made it stand out, while trying to figure it out, you spotted her, tall, long black hair, looking adoringly at korra who was talking to some officiel and you knew right then and there that was asami.

as korra showed you pictures of the pro bending arena, more in depth ones of air temple island, the spirit vines and in practically all of them you could see her, her whole presence seemed elegant, you could tell why korra had fallen for her.

when you're gone, she sleeps in your t-shirts

“shit i forgot my shirt.” korra mumbled as she frantically searched through the bag for her night shirt as you watched her from the other side of the room.

“don’t you have some here?” you suggested, looking around her room to maybe see one laying around but you knew that senna kept the room nice and tidy while her daughter was away.

“probably, hopefully asami is making use of it.” korra shrugged her shoulders before abandoning her bag on the ground, making her way to her crate where she kept all of her older clothes, grabbing the first one that came in between her fingers before facing you again, excited to have a sleepover like you always used to have.

“yeah, hopefully.” you mumbled, staring at the small fire that korra had lit for extra warmth, wishing that maybe in another life you weren’t just korra’s childhood friend, maybe you two actually got together, maybe if you had followed her to republic city instead of staying home afraid of being reprimanded by your parents for disobeying orders, maybe everything would’ve been different.

it hurts, i wish i was her, ms california.

general taglist: @biqherosix @draqondance @butterfly-skinnylegend @alteasmoon @staygoldsquatchling02 @sunnypluto

lok only taglist: @welovediaaxx @firelady-jay @callmecopper

#korra x reader #atla x reader #avatar the last airbender imagine #lok x reader #avatar the last airbender x reader #krew x reader #korra #atla #lok #avatar x reader #avatar #korra lok x reader

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wayward-dreamer · 4 years

Text

Life’s Lessons - Part 6

Title: Life’s Lessons - A Lesson in Starting Fresh

Pairing: Mechanic!Dean x Female!Teacher!Reader (eventual)

Other Pairings: Dean x Lisa, Female!Reader x OMC – Ethan (past, mentioned), Female!Reader x OMC – Mark

Word Count: 7,712 (messages, thoughts, lyrics in italics).

Part Summary: Y/N and Dean try to distract themselves from what happened the night before, despite the fact that they can’t stop thinking about each other. However, after an incident at school between Ben and another student, Y/N makes a difficult decision. Later, as she meets someone who could help her forget about Dean, he finds out what Lisa’s been hiding from him.

Warnings: Angst, Guilt, Alcohol consumption, Some fluff, Mentions of cheating.

Music: Good as Hell by Lizzo (playing in the background as Y/N gets dressed for girls’ night out), Starting Over by Chris Stapleton (Y/N and Mark scene).

Life’s Lessons Spotify Playlist

A/N: I loved reading all of your responses to Part 5, I’m so happy you guys loved it and were surprised and shocked! That’s what I live for hahaha! I hope you guys continue to enjoy this series as we move forward. It’s a bit of ride, but I promise the result is going to be worth it! Thank you so much for all of your support, it really means a lot. Happy reading and enjoy! :)

Life’s Lessons Masterlist

The next morning brought cloudy skies, a gloom that matched the way Y/N was feeling as her eyes fluttered open. She turned her head and looked out the window, frowning as she saw the clouds in the sky. She loved the summer but now with fall settling in, the hopes for even one more day of warmth were over.

The thoughts of Dean hadn’t left her mind since the night before, as much as she tried to not think about him. The way he felt against her, his hard torso against hers, his calloused hands against her skin, the feeling of his muscles against her hands even through his shirt, his lips against hers… it had all stirred feelings within her that she wished she didn’t have for someone who was taken. She couldn’t do anything about the way she was feeling.

As she stood up from the bed and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, she couldn’t help but think about how much more complicated things had gotten. All because she couldn’t keep away from Dean.

She really was in trouble.

The shower turned on, wetting Dean’s hair as he tilted his head into the spray. The water flowed down his back, seeping into his skin. He closed his eyes and stroked the water through his hair a few times to get it soaked down to the scalp. He opened his eyes and stared at the tiled wall in front of him. He couldn’t stop thinking about what happened last night. The way Y/N felt against him, her smooth skin against his calloused fingers, her soft lips kissing his. He couldn’t get her out of his mind; being that close to her turning him on in ways he hadn’t been in a long time.

As Dean finished up in the shower and got dressed for the day, his mind was still on Y/N. However, guilt washed over him. He felt like he needed another shower. Maybe ten. It had been quite a few months since he and Lisa had been intimate in any way. The last time they even tried to start something up, she stopped him before anything could happen, saying she had lost the urge. He knew there were other ways to be close to someone but having been in a relationship for 3 years, and suddenly lacking a sex life in the last few months meant that he was incredibly frustrated. It had been a lot of time with his hand, in the shower or the bedroom when no one was around. He had never strayed however, and he wouldn’t, even if he had a moment of weakness with Y/N. He had stopped himself and he was going to make an effort with Lisa. Then maybe, just maybe, they could go back to the way things were.

Dean walked into the kitchen, seeing her and Ben laughing about some video on her phone, as they ate breakfast. He smiled as he saw her face light up. She was a beautiful woman, and anyone could see that. He cared very deeply for her, always had. It just never became more than that. He loved her but he wasn’t in love with her, but if they tried again, he knew that he could be.

He walked over and watched her lift her head to see him walking towards her. He leaned in and kissed her slowly on the lips, trying to see what her reaction would be. When she pulled away with a small smile, he tried not to feel too optimistic.

“Looks good” he said, as he sat down and piled several pieces of bacon onto his plate.

“It’s probably going to rain, so we can’t go to the park and swing a few bats” Ben informed him, sadly.

“Damn” Dean muttered as he looked out the windows and saw the grey skies. “That’s a shame.”

“I have to run a few errands, so you’re both welcome to join me” Lisa chimed in.

Ben groaned as he pushed the eggs around in his plate.

Dean snickered as he watched him. “Maybe I can call Sam. He’s not working on a case right now; we can drive into the city and all hang out at the big arcade. How ‘bout that?”

Ben’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Yeah, if it’s cool with your mom” Dean said, looking between him and Lisa.

“Sure” she smiled at her son.

“Yes!” Ben pumped his fist, eating his food properly now.

“Thanks” Lisa said as she looked at Dean, with half a smile.

Dean nodded as he tucked in.

It wasn’t much of a reaction, but he would take what little happiness he could get from her.

“Alright, go nuts” Dean told Ben, and watched the kid dash off into the arcade.

Dean turned to Sam and shook his head with a laugh, taking a sip from his beer. They both sat in the adjoining diner, watching Ben through the windows. While he was going crazy on all the games, Dean got the chance to talk his brother.

“How’s Eileen?” Dean asked, his fingers drumming against the bottle to the beat of the AC/DC song playing overhead.

“She’s good, a little tired, but good” Sam replied, taking a bite of his salad. “The new firm’s kicking her ass but she’s kicking theirs right back, so I’m proud of her.”

Dean smiled, albeit a little sadly as he saw how much his brother loved his wife. “That’s great, man.”

There was a moment of quiet as Dean kept picking at the label on the beer bottle, when Sam spoke up.

“I don’t know if I should ask this, but… how are things with Lisa?” Sam asked, tentatively.

Dean huffed, shaking his head. “Pretty much the same as always. If we’re not ignoring each other, we’re fighting about something. I’m trying to be a little more… I’m trying to get us back to some place closer to how we were but… I don’t know.”

Sam frowned, lines forming on his forehead as he worried over what Dean just said. “You’re sure you don’t want to just… end it before things get worse?”

“No” Dean said, too quickly. He looked out the window to see Ben playing Galaga. “I can’t do that to him.”

“Dean, what you and Lisa are doing is worse for him. This way, at least it’s a clean enough break and everyone can move on without too much damage” Sam explained, pushing his plate to the end of the table, finished with his meal.

“I know” Dean said, quietly.

“So, what’s the problem?” Sam shrugged. “Yeah okay, you had some good years, and that’s great but… you can try all you want to get those years back, it might not do anything. Lisa has been emotionally checked out from this for a long time now, and let’s face it, you are too. You’re both just in this for Ben.”

Dean took a swig of his beer but didn’t say anything.

“Dean, you deserve to be happy with the right woman, not miserable with the one who you thought was the right one” Sam said, leaning his arms on the table as he looked his brother.

“Sam” Dean groaned. “Just stop, okay?”

“But, Dean-” Sam started but Dean cut him off.

“You said what you had to say, alright? You made your point. Let’s move on” Dean said, his tone almost pleading.

“Okay” Sam whispered.

“Good” Dean muttered, picking up a few fries from his plate and shoving them into his mouth.

With his brother’s mind preoccupied with the food in front of him, Sam stared at Dean, seeing the turmoil written on his face. His brother was loyal to a fault, but he had seen for a while now how much this relationship was hurting him. He never listened to anyone, not him, their parents, his friends, about breaking up with Lisa. He always cited that Ben was the reason he needed to stay, but there was also another reason that Dean hated to admit to anyone, even himself. Sam could see it, though. His big brother was afraid of being alone.

Sam knew he couldn’t tell Dean to break up with Lisa any more than he already had. He had to realize that’s what he needed for himself, and maybe, he could find peace after it.

Later in the evening, Y/N laughed as she opened her door and walked into the house, Charlie following in behind her. They had just come back from a slasher movie, which hadn’t turned out to be very good, but you couldn’t expect a lot from a B grade film. That didn’t matter though, as they still got to enjoy lunch before that, and were just going to hang out now that they were at Y/N’s.

“God, that guy couldn’t act!” Charlie complained as she sank into Y/N’s couch. She kicked her converse off and brought her legs up. She had instantly made herself comfortable at her house, and Y/N couldn’t be happier with that.

Y/N continued to laugh, nodding as she agreed. “I know! And what about the scene where the axe went through his head? It totally didn’t connect!”

“Right?” Charlie shook her head, giggling.

“Alright, what are we drinking?” Y/N asked as her laughter died down and she walked into the kitchen.

“Whiskey” Charlie replied, quickly without thinking too much about it.

“Ooh, yes. Perfect for this weather” Y/N said, as she looked out the window at the light drizzle.

Y/N brought the bottle and two tumblers over, sitting next to her redheaded friend. She poured a couple of fingers in each and handed her one, clinking their glasses together. They both took a sip and Y/N sat back, smiling contently. It had been a good day, a nice distraction from her neighbor who she had feelings for. Her face must’ve changed when she thought about him for split second, because Charlie picked up on it.

“You okay?” she asked, curiously.

“Yeah” Y/N huffed with a small laugh. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just seem like something’s on your mind” Charlie shrugged.

Y/N looked away from her and sighed. She was going to flip when she told her.

“I… went over to Dean’s for dinner last night” she started, waiting to get to the point.

“Nice. I hope Lisa was a bit more open than last time” Charlie commented.

Y/N bit her lip nervously, before letting it go. “She… she wasn’t there.”

One of Charlie’s eyebrows lifted up. “Okay…”

“We, uh… we had a great time. We talked a lot about his family, about mine. I… I told him about Ethan” Y/N told her, staring into her glass at the amber liquid.

“Wow” Charlie breathed out. “How did that go?”

Y/N smiled as she thought back to how he told her she was the strongest person he knew. She didn’t feel like she was, but just knowing that he thought that about her made her feel like she could be.

“It went well. In the moment I thought about against telling him, but he just… he made me feel so safe that I told him a little of it” Y/N said, the soft smile still on her face. “Not everything just yet, but I trust him and maybe I can tell him more, eventually.”

Charlie stared at her, knowing her new friend was falling for one of her old friends was incredible to see, but she didn’t want her heart to get broken by the situation at hand.

“Y/N… I’m glad you felt the confidence to tell him. I’m even more happy that he made you feel safe to open up, but… but you have to tread lightly here” Charlie said, carefully.

“I know” Y/N agreed.

“It’s my fault, really. I told you about Dean and Lisa’s relationship, but that was only because of what you said happened at dinner here-” Charlie said, but cut her off.

“It’s okay, Charlie, really” she reassured her, taking her hand in hers. “I know why you told me that. Believe me, I know. It’s just…”

“What?” Charlie knew there was something she wasn’t telling her.

Y/N sighed in defeat. “We kissed.”

“What?!” Charlie yelled, sitting forward as she stared wide eyed at Y/N.

“We had a great time, we were laughing, and he made dessert, and… fuck, it just happened” Y/N shook her head, saying it out loud made it more real, and made the guilt flood in again.

“Y/N!” Charlie yelled.

“I know!” Y/N yelled, burying her face into the couch cushions. “I’m a shitty person.”

“No, you’re not” Charlie told her, helping her off the couch cushions. “We just can’t let that happen again.”

“And I won’t” Y/N vowed. “I think it’s out of my system in the crappiest way possible, and it’s done now. Even if it was the best kiss of my life… I’m done.”

“Really?” Charlie asked, in awe of the statement she just made. “The best of your life?”

Y/N nodded, sheepishly. “It was like… like I was always meant to be there, with him.”

A silence fell as the two friends looked at each other, before Charlie spoke.

“I hate to say it, but… I think that’s where it has to end” Charlie said, as gently as she could.

“I know” Y/N nodded, firmly.

On those final words, the friends moved away from talking about it. Y/N knew that what happened last night couldn’t happen again. It would be hard to let him go, but she had to. She wasn’t going to break up a family. That’s not the kind of person she was. She had a moment of giving in, but it was done and dusted. Swept under a rug, never to see the light of day again. From that point forward, it would be strictly professional. She was Ben’s teacher and that was it. She may be their friendly neighbor, but she couldn’t be Dean’s friend.

She couldn’t have another moment to give into.

Dean smiled as he sipped his beer while sitting on the couch, watching Ben recall the day’s events to his mom. They had a great time with Sam at the arcade, playing all the games and eating junk food. After a while, Ben retreated to his room and Dean knew he’d been listening to his music before going to bed.

Dean walked into the bedroom after finishing his beer, watching Lisa get changed into her pyjamas. He moved up behind her after she took her top off, wrapping his arms around her waist. He leaned down, placing kisses along her shoulder.

“Dean” she said, a slight laugh bubbling up from her. “Stop.”

“Oh, come on, Lis. Ben’s in his room, probably has his headphones on” he said, between planting kisses on her shoulder. “We haven’t in a while…”

“Dean, please” she said, as she pulled away from him. However, when she turned around, she looked a little annoyed. “Maybe… maybe another time.”

Dean was surprised by that, considering she laughed a little when he came up behind her. “Yeah. Okay.”

She moved away from him, walked into the bathroom and shut the door, locking it.

Dean sighed as he changed into a pair of sweatpants and a black t-shirt. He left the room and into the living room, turning the lights off. He dropped his phone on the coffee table and laid down on the couch. It was a familiar feeling as he had done this a few times over the last year. Considering things didn’t go the way he thought they would tonight, he knew it was better to stay away for now. He pulled the throw blanket over himself and closed his eyes.

After some time, he opened them. He wasn’t going to sleep. He lifted his head and looked at the clock on the wall, the time reading 10.30pm. It wasn’t late for him, as he usually fell asleep in the AM on a weekend. He picked up his phone and started scrolling through different things, before an idea came to him. Hopefully she wasn’t asleep yet.

Y/N sat up in bed, reading, the bedside lamp provided the light she needed as it bathed the room in a warm glow. She pushed her red glasses up the bridge of her nose when she felt them falling, flipping the page. Charlie had left an hour ago, which gave her some time to herself and the ability to lose herself in her latest read. As she read, her phone chimed. She frowned, wondering who could be texting her at this hour. She thought it must be Charlie, wanting to tell her some funny anecdote, but her eyebrows furrowed as she picked up her phone from the bedside table and looked at the screen.

Dean: Any chance you’re free tomorrow? We need to talk.

She sighed as she placed her book down next to her and typed out her response.

Dean frowned as he saw what she had written.

Y/N: I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Dean.

Dean: We can’t just ignore what happened, Y/N.

She shook her head. She couldn’t be pulled into this again. She had no desire to talk about it, choosing instead to forget about it and make sure it never happened again.

Y/N: I think that’s exactly what we need to do. Forget it happened. Goodnight, Dean.

Dean looked down at the message and shook his head. How could he forget when she was constantly on his mind? He was trying, had been trying all day, but the fact was he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He couldn’t deny he had developed feelings for her. He told himself he would try with Lisa, but would it do any good? He just needed to talk to Y/N and see whether they were on the same page or capable of getting there, and then go from there.

He decided to put his phone and sleep on it. Maybe things would be clearer in the morning.

Monday quickly rolled around, and Y/N was thankful. School was a good distraction from the drama in her life, even if Ben was there. She was going to have her 8th graders after lunch, so as she ate, she had enough time to look over what she needed to do for class. She was in the middle of reviewing her lesson plans when she heard someone call out her name. She looked up and saw Chuck walking towards her.

“Hey, Y/N, can we talk for a minute?” he asked, politely.

“Sure” she replied, but slightly nervous as she didn’t know what this is about.

As she followed him into his office, she sat down across him as he sat at his desk.

“Don’t worry, it’s not anything to worry about” he assured her, when he saw her looking like a deer in headlights. “I just wanted to ask you how things have been going.”

She sighed in relief, a smile appearing on her face. “Things have been great. Challenging, but I think I’ve handled it.”

“That’s great to hear” he returned her smile. “I’ve had some calls from parents telling me how much their kids have liked you, so all I can say is keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Thanks, Mr. Shurley” she said.

“Ah” he waved a finger at her.

“Sorry” she laughed, slightly. “Chuck.”

“You’re welcome” he said with a small nod.

She quickly left his office with a smile on her face. Hearing that from Chuck was exactly what she needed today. It was the reassurance she needed that coming to Lawrence was a good decision. It was a reminder of why she came here, for this job and to inspire these kids, not for any unnecessary situations outside of school. She really just had to put her head down and do what she needed to and forget about Dean. Even if he did live across street from her, right now, he couldn’t exist.

As she walked from the staff room to the classroom after lunch, she watched kids file into the rooms, ready for the next period. She smiled as she turned the corner, ready to see her students but it dropped the minute she entered the room.

Ben and another student, Tommy, were roughly pushing each other back and forth, some of the other kids in class yelling for them to stop, while others yelled for them to keep going. She quickly dropped her things on the desk and rushed over, attempting to pull them apart.

“Stop it, stop it right now” she said, her teacher voice louder than usual. “Ben, Tommy – STOP!”

She got in the middle, either hand on the boys’ shoulders, watching them breathe heavily as they glared at each other. She thought about sending them over to Chuck’s office, but they’d probably kill each other on the way over.

“You two, sit down right now. We’re going to Mr. Shurley’s office straight after class” she said, sternly.

The rest of the kids were timid for the rest of the class. She had rearranged some of them so that Ben and Tommy were sitting as far away from each other as possible. Things were tense through the whole period, but she was glad that once it was over, Ben and Tommy stayed in their seats as the other kids filed out.

“So, who wants to tell me what happened before we head over to Mr. Shurley’s office?” she asked, looking between both of the boys.

Tommy stared down at the desk, refusing to speak. Y/N knew he wasn’t going to say anything and looked over at Ben. He looked at her with a mournful yet angry look. Clearly it was something bad.

“Tommy was making fun of me, that Dean’s not my real dad, that I don’t know who my dad is” he told her, side eying Tommy.

Y/N’s heart sank into her stomach. This was worse than she thought.

She nodded, calmly standing up from her desk and walking over to Ben. “Tommy, make your way to the Principal’s office, please. You can explain to him why I sent you, and that Ben and I are on our way.”

Tommy rolled his eyes as he got up from the desk, slinging his backpack over his shoulder as he walked out. She was going to be there soon, so he knew he didn’t have a chance to escape.

Y/N took a chair and placed in front of Ben’s desk, sitting down across from him. After a few seconds of figuring what to say, she clasped her hands as she looked at him.

“I can’t imagine what it’s like to hear what Tommy said to you, Ben, but what I do know is that what you and Dean have is special. He cares a lot about you, and he treats you like you’re his, doesn’t he?” she said, pausing after she asked him a question.

Ben responded with only a nod.

“Then that’s all that matters. You know your relationship with Dean better than anyone, and what others have to say about it, doesn’t change the fact that you’re a family. That Dean’s your family” she explained, with a small smile at the end.

There was a brief pause before Ben finally spoke.

“I’m sorry that I’ve been quiet in class. It’s just weird seeing you around the neighborhood and our street, and then here, too” he said, looking up at her.

She was shocked. That wasn’t what she expected him to say.

She smiled, softly. “It’s okay, Ben. I’m sure it’s strange for me to be friends with Dean and your mom.”

She added Lisa in only for Ben, because she knew they were far from friends.

Ben shook his head. “No, not really.”

Y/N nodded. She was almost hoping he said it was strange, so that not being around Dean would be a bit easier.

“Alright” she said, standing up. “We better get over there.”

“Am I gonna get into trouble for pushing Tommy?” he asked, as he stood up and followed her.

She frowned, not sure what would happen. “Maybe an after-school detention at most, considering neither of you are seriously hurt.”

“Great” he said, rolling his eyes.

Sure enough, as they discussed everything in Chuck’s office, both Tommy and Ben were going to have to do after-school detention, which Y/N was meant to be supervising that day, coincidentally. Tommy apologized to Ben and then both of the boys were off to their next class, albeit slightly late, but Chuck had already informed the next teachers’ of why they would be late. Chuck told her that he’d call the parents as she left his office. She had literally been there a couple of hours ago, for some good feedback and now this happened. Talk about two ends of the spectrum. Though she had to be thankful nothing worse happened to either of the boys.

The length of time seemed to stretch on forever as Y/N waited for after-school detention to be over. There were couple of other kids in there with Ben and Tommy, who looked like he was ready to run as soon as the time was up.

All of them bolted as soon as she opened her mouth to tell them they could go. Ben gave her a small smile as he walked out of the room, which she returned. He was a good kid and didn’t deserve to be talked about the way he was, no kid did. She hoped it wouldn’t weigh heavily on him after this experience. She quickly packed her own things, putting on her dark grey coat over her dark grey A-line dress, with a deep red belt and collar. She was more than ready to go home herself.

Dean leaned against the Impala, waiting for Ben to come out of the school. He clocked off early to come and get him after he was done with detention, as Lisa was working late. She had called him and told him what happened, and now here was. He smiled as he watched Ben walk out and over to him.

“Hey” he said, putting an arm around him. “You okay?”

“Yeah” Ben nodded.

“Alright, well, you can fill me in on why you had to go to detention on the way home” Dean said, as he opened the car door.

As he was about to get in, he saw Y/N leaving the school, pulling her coat tight around her, protecting herself from the wind. His eyes followed the lines of her legs in her stockings and black heels, shaking his head of the thoughts that flashed through his mind.

“Hey, just wait here, okay?” he said to Ben.

“Sure” Ben replied, not really looking up at where Dean was heading off to, as he got into the passenger side.

Dean jogged up to Y/N, quickly catching up to her. “Y/N!” he called out and watched her turn around.

Y/N was shocked to hear his familiar voice call out to her. She didn’t expect to see him there and swallowed nervously. “Dean, hi.”

“Listen, I know you said that we shouldn’t talk about what happened, but I just… I have to know-” he started but she cut him off, shaking her head.

“You don’t have to say anything, Dean” she said, quietly, her emotions getting the better of her. She didn’t want to do what she was about to, but she had to. “It was a lapse in judgement for both of us. A moment of weakness that won’t ever happen again.”

Dean knew there was truth to her words but hearing them made his heart feel heavy. As much as he was trying in the last couple of days with Lisa, it hadn’t done much for his hopes that they would be fine again. He wanted to talk to Y/N and see if they could work something out.

“I just think-” he started but she cut him off again.

“No, Dean. Just don’t. You have a family. They’re the ones you should be thinking about, not me. That kid over there” she said and pointed to the car where Ben was. “He considers you his family, and I know you feel the same. I won’t break up a family, Dean. I just won’t.”

He looked between the car and her. She was right. He cared about Ben, and he was only in this relationship for him now. To be in his life. Did that mean he had to be miserable with Lisa forever, though? He didn’t know what to do.

“Do you regret it?” he needed to know if she felt the same way as him. He wished he hadn’t done it while he was with Lisa, but it happened. However, remembering how she felt against him… it felt right.

She shook her head, feeling tears prick her eyes. “No. And that’s the problem.”

She should’ve felt regret. She should’ve hated what she did. She felt guilty for it happening but at the same time, she couldn’t regret kissing him. She had never felt a connection like that with anyone she had been with.

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel guilty” she said, before pressing her lips together to keep them from quivering. “Ben’s a great kid. At the end of the day… I have to look out for him as much as you do. I’m not his parent but I am his teacher. I have a sense of responsibility to him.”

He felt a pang in his heart as she looked at him, tears threatening to fall.

“I know you have your issues with Lisa, and I want… more than anything, to say forget it all and take me in your arms, but I can’t. I shouldn’t be thinking about you in the ways that I do. I shouldn’t be thinking about what life would be like with you” she shook her head, everything just spilling out in a ramble of emotions.

“Y/N…” he whispered, slowly putting his hand on her shoulder. He wanted to tell her that he thought the same things.

She gasped, feeling the warmth of his hand radiate through her. She gulped and breathed in deep. She looked at him with a stony expression. She had to put her walls up and walk away. It was the only way to save herself from heartbreak and for him to not feel like crap for what happened.

“I’m… going to step back for a while. You’ll see me around, I know, but we have to pretend like nothing happened. You have to think of me as your neighbor, as Ben’s teacher, and that’s it. We can’t be friends anymore, Dean” she said, as a tear finally escaped and rolled down her cheek.

Dean’s eyes widened as he shook his head. “What? No. Screw that-”

She shook her head when he tried take her hand in his. “It’s too hard to be around you and not be with you, Dean.”

“Y/N” he said, finally getting close enough to her that he could take her hand in his and she couldn’t stop him. “Don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry, Dean. I have to. They’re your family and you care about them; I can see that. And I can also see that you care about Ben. So much so, that you’re willing to stay in this relationship for him” she said, smiling sadly. “You’re a good man, Dean. You’re loyal and you’re trustworthy, kind and loving… but at some point, you have to decide whether what you’re staying in this for is a good enough reason.”

Dean stared at her but didn’t say anything.

“It’s a big decision to make… but I can’t make it for you by continuing the way we have been. It isn’t fair to anyone.” Her voice cracked, slightly shaky but she managed to keep the rest of her tears at bay.

Dean shook his head as he looked at her. Everything she said made sense. Despite it, he couldn’t help but feel his heart sink at her words. Not being friends would feel weird, especially if he saw her around and couldn’t say anything to her. Maybe… maybe they needed this, though. He needed to give Lisa a chance without Y/N being a constant in his life. He told himself he would try, and now he had a proper chance to do so.

“It’s gonna be weird… not talking to you” he said, honestly.

She nodded, looking into his eyes. His beautiful eyes that she always lost herself in. “I know.”

“Take care of yourself, Y/N” he muttered, his jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowed.

“You too, Dean” she whispered. “Whatever you decide… just make sure you’re doing the right thing. For everyone.”

She looked at him one last time, and even though she probably shouldn’t have, she leaned in and softly kissed his stubbled cheek. It would probably be a mixed signal, but she couldn’t leave him there looking so sad.

As she walked away, Dean could feel a tingle on his cheek where she had imprinted her kiss, much like she had on his lips, previously. Watching her walk away made his stomach uneasy, feeling it churn as she got into her car. She would be right there across the street, and he wouldn’t be able to talk to her. He didn’t know how to process that as he walked back to the car where Ben was waiting for him.

When Y/N got into her car, she watched as Dean got into the Impala and drove off, the rumbling of the engine reaching her ears, even from this distance.

As she drove home, she knew she had to make peace with her decision. As much as she wanted to take it back, she had to let him go.

Once and for all.

2 weeks later…

Y/N sipped the last of her vodka martini, bopping her head in time to the music. Next to her, Charlie was doing the same. She was glad when Meg suggested they come out to the city for a night on the town, on Saturday night. She needed a night of good drinks, good music, and maybe even a little flirting.

It had been two weeks since she had talked to Dean in the school parking lot. In that time, she had barely seen him. Just once or twice as she left for work in the morning and so did he, and once when she was coming back from the grocery store. She had seen him with Lisa one night, coming back from what looked like date night. She was glad that things were going a bit better for them, but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt seeing them together.

Which is why when Meg had suggested they drive up to Kansas City to go to a bar she liked; Y/N jumped at the chance. As Lizzo serenaded her from her “Badass Women” playlist, she put on a black lace bodysuit and mini leather skirt that came to her mid-thigh, her black lace up heeled ankle boots, gave herself a smokey eye with lots of mascara look and a plum colored lip. She put a bit of wave in her hair, smiling at the way she looked. Charlie had whistled when she opened the door as shrugged on her long black coat, and she had laughed a little nervously when Meg told her she was “totally gonna get laid tonight.” It was her first time meeting the dark-haired woman in person, and she liked her instantly. She had like her even as they chatted over the phone, but it was different now. She seemed like a take-no-shit type of person, and Y/N liked that.

While she wasn’t expecting anything tonight, Y/N felt confident in the way she looked, having caught a few eyes on her already. Being here had given her a confidence she had been lacking back home, because of all the emotional and mental abuse Ethan had put her through. When Dean told her he admired her strength, that she was beautiful and an incredible person, it awoke something in her. She felt different. She didn’t need validation from anyone, but at the same time knowing that she was appreciated and loved by these amazing people she had met, gave her a new sense of belonging. She finally felt like she was exactly where she needed to be.

Meg pushed her way through the crowd of people, a tray of drinks in her hand. She handed her and Charlie their respective drinks, taking the Shirley Temple for herself, as she had made herself the designated driver.

“Y/N, there’s a group of guys over there, and I swore the blonde one is totally looking at you” she said, pointing discreetly over her left shoulder.

Y/N frowned and looked around, sure enough seeing 4 guys around a table like the girls were, the blonde one looking in their direction.

“He could be looking at you, you know. Or Charlie. I mean he doesn’t know you’re both taken” Y/N shot down the idea.

Charlie scoffed. “Yeah, right. All eyes have been on you tonight.”

“Go over there” Meg told her, her eyes lighting up.

“No” Y/N said, shaking her head.

“Do it or I will” Meg threatened, smiling wickedly.

“You wouldn’t, Masters” Y/N glared at her.

“Watch me, Y/L/N” she laughed as she quickly dashed off.

“Meg!” Y/N called out but she wouldn’t be heard over the music.

Charlie laughed as she took a sip of her drink.

Y/N shook her head at her and took a sip of her martini.

Y/N watched as Meg talked to the blonde guy and then pointed over at her. Y/N gulped nervously when she saw him nod. He was looking at her. Shit. Meg quickly walked back over.

“Girl, he’s so interested! Come on, please go over there” Meg was practically shaking with excitement.

Y/N sighed nervously. Was she ready for this?

It had been a year since she and Ethan had broken up. In that time, she had hooked up twice on two different occasions, back home. It had felt good to just have sex for the release she had needed, but it had been a while since she let herself feel something more for a man. Dean was the first one she had felt a strong connection to since Ethan, back when things were still okay with him. Even then, the pull she felt towards Dean was unlike anything she had ever felt. Not with Ethan, or any other boyfriends from the past.

What she felt for Dean… it still hadn’t fizzled out, as much as she tried to ignore it. Maybe this is what she needed though. To get over him.

She rolled her shoulders back and fixed her hair. “How do I look?”

“Sinful” Meg replied, simply.

She laughed, shaking her head at her new friend. “Okay. I’m going.”

Charlie grinned. “Go get him.”

Y/N hopped off the high-top stool and moved through the crowd. As she did, her Y/E/C eyes connected with his, and he flashed her a smile. She smiled back as she reached the table, his friends quickly excusing themselves. As she got closer and could see him properly in the dim lighting of the room, she saw that he had blue eyes. He was only a few inches taller than her because of her heels, unlike Dean who would tower over her no matter her footwear.

“Hey, I’m Mark” he said, offering his hand.

“Y/N” she took his hand and shook it. She didn’t feel a spark just yet from his touch like she had with Dean so instantly, but that was okay.

“I’ll be honest, I couldn’t stop looking at you all night” he laughed, sounding a little nervous.

She felt the heat rise in her cheeks, and it wasn’t from the alcohol. “Well, you’re not so bad yourself.”

“Let me get you a drink” he said, flagging down a waiter. “What’ll you have?”

“Vodka martini” she said, and watched the waiter walk away to get her a drink. She could’ve just gotten hers from her table, but he had offered to buy her one. She couldn’t say no.

“Thanks” she said, smiling at him.

“You’re welcome” he smirked.

“Do you live here in the city?” she asked, as the song overhead changed to something slower, making it easier to talk.

“Yeah. You?” he asked in return.

“Lawrence” she replied.

“So, what do you do, in Lawrence?” he wondered, smiling at her.

“I’m a teacher, 8th grade English” she smiled back.

“Wow, that’s great” he nodded, approvingly.

“What do you do?” she asked.

“I’m a copywriter, for an ad agency” he replied, handing her the glass as the waiter came back to them. He passed the waiter a few bills before he walked away.

She nodded, approvingly, too. “That’s amazing.”

“Not as glamorous as you would think, though” he laughed, slightly.

“Ah, so nothing like a modern version of Mad Men?” she joked.

He laughed loudly, shaking his head. “Definitely not.”

With a break in conversation, Y/N drifted off as the song that started while they were talking, continued. The words hit her as she thought about her life back home, and the life she was making for herself now, starting over in Lawrence. The song spoke of a person to start over with, and while she longed for that someone to be Dean, she knew it couldn’t be.

It don’t matter to me

Wherever we are is where I wanna be

And, honey, for once in our life

Let’s take our chances and roll the dice

I can be your lucky penny

You can be my four-leaf clover

Starting over

“Hey” Mark’s voice bringing her back to reality. “You alright?”

She smiled, nodding quickly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Just feeling the song, huh?” he asked, laughing.

“I guess” she shrugged.

They talked for a few more minutes before his friends came over and told him they were going to head out.

“I should probably go, too” he said, regretfully. He took out his phone and handed it to her. “Here, put your number in and we can talk some time. Maybe… maybe I can take you out some time?”

She smiled as she typed her number in. A flashback of doing the same thing with Dean’s phone passed through her mind, but she pushed it away. “Yeah.”

“It was nice to meet you, Y/N” he said, smiling.

“You too, Mark” she smiled back, biting her lip.

As he left, she sighed. He was nothing at all like Dean, as she had discovered through their initial conversation. They were completely different in their features, the way they dressed, and the way they talked. Maybe that was a good thing, though. Giving Mark a shot would be the best way to detach herself from Dean. He was adorably cute, and she liked their banter already.

Maybe Mark was what she needed to truly forget about her feelings for Dean.

Dean popped the last bite of his burger into his mouth, humming as the flavors exploded on his tastebuds. He leaned back and took a sip of his beer from the bottle, glancing around the diner. It was a favorite spot for him, Ben and Lisa and they used to come here quite often before things started going sour. Funnily enough, it was Lisa who had suggested they go out for dinner and go there.

Things had been slightly better with her these last couple of weeks. They had managed to have proper conversations without things getting out of hand, and he had even made her laugh a few times. There was still no dice in terms of sex, but he was hoping that would change tonight when they got back home.

Dean looked over at Lisa and Ben sitting across from him, currently having a slight disagreement over him playing games on his phone while they were out and eating dinner.

“Hey” Dean said, interrupting them. “Listen to your mom.”

“Fine” Ben said, rolling his eyes as he put his phone away. “Can I at least get a refill?” He shook his empty glass.

“Yes” Lisa said, smiling slightly.

Ben got up from the table and went and stood in line at the self-serve refill station.

“Thanks” Lisa said as she turned to look at Dean.

“No problem” he said, winking at her.

He smirked when he got a small smile out of her. He couldn’t believe how things were suddenly looking up for them, but he was relieved to not be fighting with her for a change.

Her phone chiming once, then twice got his attention as well as hers. She looked at her phone, but quickly pushed it aside.

“Something wrong?” he asked, frowning.

“No, just my sister. I’ll talk to her later” she replied, shaking her head.

“Lis, it’s your sister. Talk to her, I don’t care” he shrugged, not minding if she took a call.

“No, it’s really okay” she said, her voice shaking a little.

“Lisa, what’s going on?” he asked, starting to suspicious that something was up.

“Nothing” she bit out through gritted teeth.

Dean sighed, annoyed when the phone chimed again. Having spoken to her sister a few times, he figured he’d talk to her and see if everything was okay. He reached across the table and picked up Lisa’s phone.

“Dean!” she protested.

“If you won’t talk to her then let me” he said, looking down at the screen. He glared at the screen as he read the messages. They weren’t from her sister.

Call me when you’re done with dinner.

I can’t stop thinking about you.

I wish you were here with me.

Dean saw that there was no name, just a heart emoji instead. He read the ones on the lock screen, and that was enough for him to get the picture. That was enough for him to know that she was still lying to him. That she had been for more than a year now.

Dean looked at her and saw her face change into fear.

“Something you wanna tell me?” he asked, glaring at her.

-x-

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#Life's Lessons #Dean x Female!Reader #Dean x Female!Reader Series #Dean x Female!Reader Fanfiction #Female!Reader Insert #Mechanic!Dean #Teacher!Reader #Dean x Reader Fanfiction #Dean Winchester Series #Dean Winchester Fanfiction #Dean Winchester Fanfic #Supernatural Fanfiction

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miracle-sham · 3 years

Text

In the Atelier's Glow the Pupa Phoebus will Eclose.

| {Jasonette July 2021, Week 2, Day 10: Light} |

Chapter 2 of Sheltered by Darkness not yet Moths to the Flame.

———

| Even when everything you know splits. When it splinters and shifts, like a chrysalis or a damaged cable. And you're left unfurling your wings, unable to yet fly—circuit broken, fuse melted—grounded, earthed. |

| The rest of the world keeps the current flowing through the wires of everyone else's circuit wings, and they're able to keep fluttering, unfettered by your frayed and exposed wires, even despite the threat you pose to their safety. Too blinded by the luminescence of those with power. |

| Word Count: 7,220. |

| Warnings/Tags: Cyberpunk/Criminal/Gang Au, Explicit Language/Swearing, Hacking, Breaking and Entering, Mentions of Guns, Gun Violence, Mentions of corrupt/shady businesses, Gabriel Agreste's A+ Parenting, Brainwashing, Implied Brainwashing & Torture, Injury, Threats of Violence & Violence, Akumatised!Marinette, Fluff & Angst, Hurt with some Comfort, Angst With a Happy Ending, Gang/Team as family/family dynamics, Found Family. |

———

| A/N: First things first, make sure you've read the first chap before reading this. Second things second, this chapter is a chapter and half. And it's the final chapter! I hope this being 7k more than makes up for it being a day late to posting! I put a lot of love and time and effort into this, so I really hope you all enjoy. And for peak atmosphere, listen to Wonder World by Inova (first song on the playlist) during the first two parts, for optimum atmosphere! Not necessary if you'd prefer not to of course, but still. There's also a ton of light and butterfly symbolism stuffed in this, so try and see how much you can spot! |

| On a sidenote, this fic is dedicated to my friend Saf who listened to me ramble about this fic, and in turn rambled to me whenever I gave her sneak peak snippets. This wouldn't have ended up half as good as it did without her support! Also thanks to Weird for the support, compliments, reaction to the snippets, and kind words as well! And finally, thanks to everyone on the discord who was supportive and kind whenever I rambled in my author's channel! <3 |

| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

———

Even when everything you know splits. When it splinters and shifts, like a chrysalis or a damaged cable. And you're left unfurling your wings, unable to yet fly—circuit broken, fuse melted—grounded, earthed.

The rest of the world keeps the current flowing through the wires of everyone else's circuit wings, and they're able to keep fluttering, unfettered by your frayed and exposed wires, even despite the threat you pose to their safety. Too blinded by the luminescence of those with power.

Broken wires cause lights to flicker and dim. They don't glow as brightly as they could—as they should. They crackle and buzz and burn and scorch and smoke, causing only destruction; when light should only be used for creation.

That's why the Atelier Agreste specialise in fixing broken wings and wires. The brightness of tomorrow splinters the darkness of today, the business proclaims.

And Marinette Dupain-Cheng is merely the latest of the poor misguided larvae, with their shade-like masks and unfortunate frayed wires, to be rehabilitated into an enlightened pupa under Gabriel Agreste's watchful care.

Truly, the discarding of a mask that kept the Pupa in the dark, and the Pupa's embracement of the Atelier's radiant glow marks a wondrous occasion indeed.

How glorious it will be, an unveiling of the newest Atelier Agreste designer's début? The welcoming of a new Papillon among the ranks, especially one that shines so brightly. Phoebus, like the butterfly and the god of light. What a fitting name for the butterfly that will glow like the sun.

———

Marinette—no, not Marinette, she is Phoebus. She is light, and her glow has been fixed.

Stitch by stitch, she sews herself a collection of chrysalises. To represent her transformation that has been nurtured by the Atelier, Monsieur Agreste had said.

Stitch by stitch by stitch. She must make him proud, he's done so much for her. He saved her from the darkness, showed her the light and how to glow just as brightly herself. She owes him everything.

Stitch by stitch by stitch by stitch. Lila—no, Rubi, after Macrothylacia Rubi, the Fox Moth—visits sometimes. She's pretty, and likes to keep Phoebus company, telling her all about the incredible things Rubi has done and people Rubi has met. She's like Phoebus, taken in and nurtured by the Atelier Agreste. Phoebus hopes Rubi will be one of her chrysalis models.

Stitch. And anchor, and anchor, then up. Snip. Snip. Snip.

Phoebus hears the sound of the studio door opening but she does not stop. Her chrysalises must be perfect, she must finish them in time. Thread the needle and anchor.

Footsteps stride across the studio floor but still Phoebus does not stray her attention from her work. Stitch by stitch.

“Good morning, Pupa, I hope the final preparations for your début are going accordingly.” Monsieur Agreste greets.

Her hands still, work halting. The Pupa Phoebus turns away from the fashion piece before her, and smiles, as brightly as her namesake, up at him. “It is.”

There's a hollowness inside her. And smiling at him makes the hollowness ache but Phoebus does not know why. Monsieur Agreste does not like it when she asks bad-dark-broken-frayed questions like that, so she says nothing more and nothing less. She will be his perfect protégé. He said so, and so she must.

He nods approvingly. “Good. I expect only perfection from you and your work. Do not forget, once the fashion show starts it will mark your eclosion into my Atelier once and for all.”

The Pupa Phoebus nods her head, eyes shining almost too brightly in the studio's lights.“I will ensure everything is to perfection for my début.”

Her actions and words are as doll-like as her title. For she was once named Marinette, which is close to Marionette. Marionettes are dolls. And Pupa once meant doll. Like a doll, she is so painfully hollow inside. But like a doll, she is perfect. She must be.

Monsieur Agreste does not sneer at her but his lips curl in a way that makes the darkness inside her claim he is mocking her.

“The set designers have informed me the catwalk has been transformed into the river Lethe. Isn't it rather fitting?” He pauses, watching her with sharp eyes for her reaction.

She nods. That is what she is supposed to do. It is fitting because he has said so. And Monsieur Agreste is always right.

“After all,” he continues, seemingly satisfied with her response, “it was once believed that the dead may only be reincarnated upon drinking from the Lethe and giving up their memories. And you gave up your memories of pain to be reformed as a butterfly that will shine ever so brightly, my protégé.”

“Oh,” Phoebus responds, tilting her head to one side as her smile wavers for but a fraction of a second. There's something flickering in the back of her head, behind her eyes; splintered memories, nothing substantial but the ghosts—Fantômes, the darkness whispers—of them linger.

The taste of iron, harsh white lights, cold glowing white strands chaining her fragile wire wings to the ground, lights—so many dancing lights, and the sharp electric zaps. She shouldn't try to parse what they mean, what they herald. Remembering the Before is bad, when she was a poor unfortunate Larva who fell through the cracks into the shadows and gutters. She is a Pupa now, and Pupa change. They become better, brighter, than they ever could achieve as Larvae.

Monsieur Agreste picks up on her moment of lapse, his eyes narrowing in what must be concern. “Is something wrong, Pupa?”

Phoebus shakes her head. “I am just anticipating how my début will go.”

He hums, unconvinced.

Understandable—she is not meant to lie, not to him. It is not how a Pupa should act.

“Perhaps you should take a break so we can ensure you've not damaged your light by working so hard. It wouldn't do to have your glow flicker and dim mid-début.” Monsieur Agreste states, pulling his tablet out already to schedule a check-up.

The Pupa Phoebus widens her bright yet hollow smile. “Oh, that is a good idea! A break would be most appreciated, Monsieur Agreste!”

Monsieur Agreste does not laugh but he huffs in what must be amusement. “How unfortunate that it took so long to rescue and take you under my wing. You will do well as one of my Papillons here.” He pauses to adjust his glasses, the light shining on them in a way that makes the lenses appear opaque. “I didn't think I'd get another specimen such as yourself, so perfectly adapted for becoming a Pupa and then a Papillon.”

His not-sneer unfurls into a grin, one that makes the darkness whisper danger. He steps around her, to get a different angle view of her work, and stares pointedly at the fine detailing. “It is a great shame that my son and my nephew have both become wretched larvae like you once were, instead of wonderful Pupae like you've now become.”

“You deserve a better son and nephew, Monsieur Agreste.” Phoebus recites from the script burnt into her mind, though she does not remember when or why she memorised it.

“I do, don't I.” Monsieur Agreste considers in contempt. “That can easily be achieved as soon as my men rescue him from the clutches of those vile Larvae. We believe the ones who held you captive and forced you to work for them, are the same ones who hold both my son and nephew now.”

“Oh.” Phoebus responds, getting the feel that Monsieur Agreste is testing her. Perhaps to ensure no feelings of Stockholm Syndrome remain for her previous captors? Yes, that must be it. How thoughtful and caring of Monsieur Agreste. “That is awful, hopefully, they can be saved soon!”

Monsieur Agreste hums, seemingly in agreement this time. “Hopefully indeed. And once we rescue them, they can then be taught to embrace the radiance my company brings to this world, just as you were taught.”

He places a hand on her shoulder, and squeezes. “And you, my dear Pupa, can help my son and nephew stitch their Chrysalises. For they are both models, like Rubi. Wouldn't that be nice, two additional fellow Papillons for you to befriend, wouldn't that make you very happy?”

Phoebus nods at a perfectly acceptable speed to relay her happiness and excitement. “Yes! That would be wonderful! I would be so happy if that were to happen!”

And yet, the darkness inside her wails and grieves as she utters each word but Phoebus does not understand why.

“Good,” Monsieur Agreste states, “that is very good to hear. Now, I shall return when your break is ready.” He turns around and strides towards the door, stilling at the threshold. “My wife will prepare high tea for you to join her at, once your break is ready.”

The Pupa Phoebus nods, fingers twitching as she turns back to meticulously stitching her chrysalises. “Thank you, Monsieur Agreste, I cannot wait!”

He huffs in what must be amusement again, “I would hope so, Pupa.”

If she didn't know better, the Pupa Phoebus would wonder why the silver butterfly necklace feels more like shackles than a gift. Why the darkness begs her to break the chains.

———

Three months. Three fucking months. Of nothing. Not a whisper on the news or in the underground, no public proclamations of the capture of one of the co-leaders of the most notorious gangs in the city. Nothing, abso-fucking-lutely nothing. Three fucking months she's been gone and not a word about what happened.

Jason sits crouched on the sofa, head in his hands. A coffee is placed on the table in front of him, he can tell from the smell, and the sound of the liquid sloshing about inside the cardboard cup.

“Marinette used to like coffee…” Jason bemoans, half-serious, half-jokingly.

Something shatters in the next room over, the kitchen most likely from the sounds of it.

“Oh. My. Fucking. God. Jason!” Alix hiss-screeches, from the same place as the shattering, like an angry kitten on roller skates. “You've said that meme every day for the last month! I'm going to murder you!”

Adrien, who's been sitting on top of the side cabinets, throws his head forwards and barely manages to stifle the laugh by slapping a hand over his mouth. He wheezes for a few seconds as he gets his laughter, and breathing under control again.

Félix snorts from where he's curled up in a cushioned armchair. “Alix has a point, you know. We understand you miss her but as do we.”

“Shhh! You'll disturb him!” Roy shushes, grinning mischievously as he stands behind the sofa. Putting on his best David Attenborough impression, he begins to recite, “here we have the rare Jasonarches Toddamentum brooding in his natural habitat. Lamenting the loss of one of his pack, specifically his co-alpha—”

Jason whips around to face Roy and launches the nearest pillow from the sofa at him, before he can continue the mockumentary. “Co-alphas? Really? That's the best you could come up with! C'mon man!”

Yelping, Roy ducks but not quick enough as the pillow smacks him in the right shoulder and flops onto the floor.

Nodding mock sagely, Félix sighs. “We expected better from you, Roy.”

“Yeah, Roy.” Kori teases, passing a second coffee in her hands over to him.

Placing a hand over his heart, Roy gasps. “Wow! The betrayal!” he complains as he grabs at the coffee and cradles it to his chest with the other. “And thanks, Kori! For the coffee, not the betrayal!”

“Ah, friends?” Markov calls cautiously as he hovers into the room, anxiety lacing his robotic voice, claws fiddling with the corner of what looks to be an envelope.

Immediately the jovial atmosphere splinters and everyone stills. Everyone except Artemis and Alix who walk, and roll into the room respectively, at that precise moment. Both hovering by the respective door frames they entered through, coincidentally opposite each other. Artemis crosses her arms, whilst Alix grabs the door frame with one hand to steady herself.

Jason tenses and glances over at the little AI. “Everything okay, Markov?”

Markov fretfully swings his claw arm around. “One of our couriers was handed a letter.”

“Did they bring it here?” Jason questions, brows furrowing in worry.

Markov shakes his head. “The courier handed it to a third-party forger, and created the forgery I am now holding. It is addressed to Adrien, and Félix.”

Adrien sucks in a sharp breath, he turns to exchange a look with Félix. “You don't think it's…” He trails off, unwilling to say it out loud in case it makes it any more likely.

Grimacing, Félix nods. “It has to be. It was rather publicly known when you were "kidnapped",” he states, making quotation marks with his fingers as he stressed the word, “by this gang. Less so when you spearheaded my "kidnapping", with them.”

“Yeah… that's. We didn't think that through.” Adrien admits, scrunching his mouth up in concern. “But! If that didn't happen, I wouldn't have gotten to use Cheval Mallet as my vigilante name, which is a plus at least!”

Félix huffs bitterly. “Oh, because getting to use a vigilante name that fits thematically is completely and utterly worth getting targeted by the Big Butterfly himself?”

“In my defence—” Adrien starts, only to shut his mouth again as words fail him. “Nevermind, you've got a point.”

Jason clicks his tongue. “More importantly, we need to decide what we're doing about this.”

“We need to actually see what is inside the envelope, first.” Félix counters, marching over to Markov.

Markov dips in the air in lieu of a nod and extends his claw-arm to hand Félix the envelope. “Here you go, friend!”

“Thank you, Markov.” Félix responds, nodding his head to the little AI as he takes the extended envelope. He marches back over to Adrien and slips out the disguised knife pen out of his pocket, before carefully slicing the top of the envelope open like one would do with a letter opener. Plucking the letter from inside, he holds it at an angle so only he and Adrien can read what has been written.

Seconds pass.

Swearing under his breath, Adrien glances up at Jason with panic clear in his eyes. “It's… it's from Kagami. She's been compromised, the Big Butterfly knows she was in contact with us. He and her mother have forced her to invite us to the Big Butterfly's upcoming fashion show…”

“She's worried that it's a trap, to capture us both so that they can… do to us what they did to my mother, and all of his Papillons.” Félix continues in Adrien's stead, barely able to conceal the dawning horror on his face.

Artemis moves towards them and asks as softly as she can, brows furrowing in concern. “And what exactly, did they do to your mother?”

He swallows a breath of air thickly. “Adrien's mother went missing a few years ago. And so my mother and I visited Adrien and his sperm donor as we were all grieving. However, I started to notice things seemed off and before either of us realised, the Big Butterfly was parading my mother around in front of the news and media pretending she was her twin sister instead. Even at home, she started treating me like Adrien's mother had.”

“What the fuck! Are you saying the Big Butterfly brainwashed your mom?” Jason exclaims, eyes wide with a mixture of horror, disgust, and alarm.

“Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying. The Big Butterfly brainwashed my mum into believing she was Aunt Emilie, purely so that he could keep appearances up in front of the cameras.” Félix confirms, hands balled into fists and shaking ever so slightly. “When Adrien got out and joined here, I stumbled across the Big Butterfly's plans to replace Adrien by doing the same to me. If you all hadn't helped me get out in time…” He chokes up, unable to get the next words out of his mouth.

“That is truly despicable. I'm sorry.” Artemis apologises, looking equally disturbed by the information.

“Shit.” Roy mutters, glancing between Félix and Adrien. “What do we do? We can't just let another innocent get fucking brainwashed!”

Kori purses her lips. “I think,” she starts, giving an understanding look at the two, “we should let Adrien and Félix decide. They are the most familiar with the Big Butterfly, this Kagami, and the situation as a whole.”

Clearing her throat, Alix roller skates a little closer to others. “Guys, you don't think…” she trails off, trying to find her words but also torn over whether saying it out loud will make it true, “you don't think that's what's happened to Marinette? It would explain why we've heard nothing from her or Roaar since she disappeared.”

“Holy fucking shit! I'm going to burn that fucking bastard and his fucking fashion show to the ground if he fucking dared!” Hisses Jason, his eyes flaring toxic green as the fury of the Lazarus Pit burns in his veins. He digs his nails into the fabric of the sofa and his lips curl into a near-frenzied snarl.

“Woah, woah! Jason, calm the fuck down! That might not be what's happened!” Roy intercepts, grabbing Jason by the shoulder.

Jason turns to glare at Roy. “But it also might be what happened to her!”

“We should go.” Adrien cuts in sharply, “Max can get the rest of you in via hacking. Félix and I will be the distraction, and I'll bring Kaalki so we have a quick escape in case things go wrong. Whilst everyone else who goes to the show needs to focus on getting Kagami out. Then once that's done, we can try and look for anything that suggests they've got Marinette. And if we find Marinette, we get her out as well.”

Félix nods. “That's a good enough plan for me.”

Smiling bitterly, Adrien tilts his head to one side. “So, who else is up for crashing the show?”

Kori, Roy, Artemis, and Alix all exchange glances before nodding.

“Max and I are in!” Markov pipes up, hovering up in a swing.

“That leaves, who's telling Luka, and Bizarro they're holding down the fort this time?” Jason mutters.

“Dibs not it!” Everyone but Artemis calls out.

She rolls her eyes at the antics of the others. “I will tell the two of them their roles for this mission. Don't worry.”

Jason hums. “We could also probably call in a favour with the Sparrow kid that you,” he nods towards Adrien, “and Marinette befriended. Not to hold down the fort but to help cover us at the fashion show?”

“Oh! I'm sure Sparrow will be more than happy to help! That's a great idea!” Adrien cheers, perking up slightly.

Moving over to the coffee table, Félix places the letter down in the centre. “Right. Let's get ourselves ready to crash a fashion show.”

———

Adrien and Félix both don a light disguise. One that's easy enough to recognise them on a closer inspection but subtle enough to not attract immediate attention.

The others, in heavier disguises, had arrived early and gotten in already—split between two teams. One with hacked tickets, and the other through breaking and entering, the gang's speciality. Sparrow had also been more than happy to help and had roped in a few others from their gang, the Quantic Kids, into helping watch the outside of the building.

Leaving Félix and Adrien to arrive together, separate from the rest of the gang; they make sure to arrive slightly late to try and avoid the worst of the crowds. Approaching the doors, they hand over their tickets and try to appear as nonchalant as possible.

The nearest android guard eyes their tickets and puts out a hand. “Wait.”

“Is there something wrong with our tickets, sir?” Félix asks, smiling sweetly enough to hide the undercurrent of threat.

The android guard nods their head at another then looks the two up and down in a scrutinising—analysing fashion. “We have explicit orders to escort anyone with these tickets to the seats.”

Adrien grimaces. “Understood, lead the way then.”

The android guards exchange nods once more, then the one slightly further away pulls out a radio and starts quietly reporting into it, too low for either Félix or Adrien to catch anything. Useful or otherwise.

“Follow me.” Says the nearer one as they start walking away.

Félix sighs and lightly knocks shoulders with Adrien as a reminder of solidarity as well as to get ready. Waiting for only a second, they both start following after the guard. Félix adjusts the secret mic and camera attached to his tie, ensuring that it was now transmitting its feed to Max and Markov, as well as Luka back at base.

Next to him, Adrien does the same with his own tie and attached secret mic and camera.

They're led down a few hallways, up a couple of winding staircases, and down a few more hallways before the guard stops outside a door with a metal sign on it reading: Private.

“Your seats are through here.” The android guard says, slotting a keycard into the door, causing a glowing keypad panel to open up in the centre. Then, the android guard scans a digital code into the door and the door swings open before it.

Adrien nods to the android guard and tugs Félix after him as he strides across the threshold, head held high.

There's a shriek, as they pass through the door, and a body slams into Adrien and it's only thanks to his vigilante instincts that he doesn't drop the body.

“Oh, Adrikins!” Chloé cries out, hugging him tightly. “I can't believe you're back!” She lets go of him for a second to step back and check out his outfit. “Urgh, you could do with some better clothes though. It's fine,” she says, waving a hand, “after today's show we can go on a shopping trip together!”

Adrien smiles awkwardly and unconvincingly responds, “yeah… it's nice to see you again too, Chloé.”

Félix, the traitor, snickers at Adrien's predicament and steps around the two to fully enter the room. The android guard does not follow, and the door shuts automatically behind them.

Inside, is a private bar and lounge with double doors on the far wall, opposite the 'Private' entry door.

Kagami glances up from her place from the sofa against the wall with the double doors. She raises an eyebrow. “It is good to see that you made it here safely.”

“As safe as we could.” Félix grunts, delicately dropping into the seat next to her on the sofa.

She hums, tuning out Chloé's screeching with practised ease. “How are the horse-related magic tricks you were working on going?”

“Pretty well, though I don't suppose Father will be all too pleased with the one I plan to practise tonight,” Félix responds.

Kagami relaxes her shoulders in relief for a split second. “Oh? And what sort of magic trick is it?”

“I've dubbed it: Call a Key. And it's like those pull a rabbit from a hat tricks but with a horse from a hoop.” He says, drawing a circle in the air. A circle that just so happens to be the same size and shape as Kaalki's average portals.

“I see,” Kagami says, nodding, “well, perhaps after tonight's show, you won't mind showing me it so far?”

Félix grins, “I'd love to, Kagami.”

Their conversation lulls into silence, so Félix hops off the sofa and goes over to the private bar to fix himself and Adrien some drinks. Seeing as Chloé was showing no signs of letting his cousin go at the moment. A potential hazard for the plan, he worries. With drinks in hand, he rejoins Kagami by the sofa.

An announcement rings out over the loudspeakers on the walls as the double doors swing open in a slow and controlled manner.

“That, is our cue that the show will be starting soon,” Kagami mutters to him. She takes a deep breath and raises her voice, “Chloé, Adrien, it is time we take our seats for the show.”

Chloé squeals, forcefully dragging Adrien across the private lounge and through onto the balcony where their booth seats are.

Sighing, Félix follows after the two with Kagami a few steps behind him.

“Oh, I'm so glad you managed to make it to today's fashion show, Adrikins!” Chloé exclaims, clutching at Adrien's arm like a hawk and gesturing wildly with the other. “It's so nice of your daddy to hold this show in the theatre so we could have a private booth together to watch the show! And it's going to be a really special show from what I've overheard, Gabriel's débuting a new and upcoming fashion designer! Isn't that so exciting, I'm sure your daddy will let you model for them now that you're back! After all,” she scoffs, “he's letting that peasant fox model for the designer today.”

“Is that so?” Adrien responds, glancing at Félix with deep-seated worry etched into his stare.

Félix clenches his fists and takes a deep breath.

Frowning, Kagami taps Félix on the arm and sends him a questioning glance.

“We'll explain it later.” He mumbles quietly enough for her to just hear.

Below them, the sounds of people taking their seats echoes. A few minutes pass, Félix and Kagami make minor small talk whilst Adrien is forced to listen to Chloé prattle on.

The main lights dim and then go out, plunging the room into darkness. The curtains rise, from the sounds of the heavy and large swathes of fabric moving on the pulleys.

Classical music starts playing—not unlike the music Adrien used to learn on the piano. And one by one, the lights in the shape of asphodels flicker to life on the stage, illuminating a sea of the flowers surrounding a catwalk designed like a river carving through the land. White marble Greco-Esque pillars and arches litter the flower fields. Framing the scene, is the blank white wall at the back of the catwalk and stage. The lighting shifts to cast spotlights on the wall behind the catwalk.

Félix tunes out the rest of the show starting, instead putting all his focus in searching for any security watching their booth, as well as for any sign of Marinette.

The show continues on, slowly models wearing pieces designed like asphodels, butterflies, and cocoons or chrysalises strut up and down the catwalk. The spotlights follow them, making the pieces and models appear to glow under the light.

Luckily, there's no obvious security paying attention to their booth. But that doesn't mean they're in the clear, for all they know, Gabriel could have bugged the place to the rafters. They had worked out before entering, that they'd have to leave before the end of the show. Otherwise, they'd most likely be captured and brainwashed just like Félix's mum.

A new announcement from the stage gives both Adrien and Félix pause, neither having fully caught what was said other than mentions of the reveal of the designer. They tense and try to hide the signs of their anxious anticipation. The flickering flame of hope in their chests threatens to extinguish from the worry that this could be what they feared it to be.

The lights and spotlights on stage all dim; whilst the music fades to a quieter volume. The almost deafening echoing clack-clack-clack of heels against the catwalk seems so much louder than when the models in heels had been walking across it.

Félix holds his breath and clasps his hands together tightly. Adrien leans forwards to get a better look over at the stage. They should be nudging Kagami and getting ready to go by now but they can't will themselves to look away. Like a tragedy; a car catching fire and about to crash.

A figure in a chrysalis dress steps onto the catwalk. Step by step by step, they slowly walk to the end of the catwalk. The faint glow of the lights still perfectly illuminates the figure's face though.

And Adrien's heart stops. “No!”

“What? Is that—?” Chloé starts, only to be interrupted by the cacophonous roar of a standing ovation from the rest of the audience.

Félix, Adrien, and Kagami all pale in horror.

“That's… that's Marinette.” Kagami whispers to Félix, her panic thinly veiled.

Stiffly, Félix nods and swallows a breath of air thickly. “So. Minor change of plans.”

“I can see why.” Kagami responds automatically, in horror.

On the catwalk below, the dress shimmers and appears to crack. Shadowy mist seeping from the cracks is followed by a blinding glow eviscerating the darkness. From the cracks, the outer layers of the dress splinter away, and the layers below begin to unfurl. Bright white, beautiful butterfly wings edged with black and the odd symmetrical red spots.

Gabriel Agreste, Papillon, joins her on the stage. “Isn't this such a momentous and wonderful occasion? Tonight, we have witnessed the eclosion of a new Papillon within the Atelier Agreste. And I'm delighted by the bright welcome Phoebus has received.”

At the call of her Papillon name, Phoebus bows.

Félix's heartbeat pounds in his ears, nearly drowning out Gabriel's words.

Before he, or Adrien, can react, there's a buzzing in his ear from the disguised earpiece comms.

“Félix. Adrien. Get Kagami and get out! Now!” Max's voice filters through, “they're sending a reinforcement of guards towards your location. I'll try to hack them but it'll be close!”

Standing abruptly, Adrien yanks himself away from Chloé's death grip.

“Wha—Adrikins!” She protests, still too shocked by the revelation of the new designer having been Marinette, to try and stop him.

Adrien backs away into the private lounge, flushing red with embarrassment. “Sorry Chloé, I-uh… need to use the men's room. Be-right-back!”

He turns heel and makes his way over to the opposite door and yanks it open.

Félix stares at Adrien in disbelief before nodding at Kagami and grabbing her by the arm. He does not so much run, as speed walk after Adrien.

The second all three of them are clear of the private door's threshold, Kagami kicks her foot back to shut the door behind them. The three then start sprinting down the halls.

The hidden earpiece crackles again. “You three and Jason are the nearest to the backstage where Marinette will be soon. I'll lead the four of you towards the location, just follow my directions and don't do anything stupid once Jason joins you.”

“No promises,” Adrien mutters in response. “I'm seriously considering committing patricide at this point.”

Max doesn't immediately respond, presumably having switched channels to help deal with the others, or get out himself.

Less than a minute later, the earpiece crackles again, but this time it's Luka who starts relaying the directions to the backstage whilst keeping them updated on both human and android guards as well as security camera positions.

“You're halfway there, Jason should be just through the third door on the right.” Luka informs, sounding calm but they know him too well to not hear the veneer of fury beneath every word.

Adrien yanks open the third door on the right open, and lo and behold, Jason is sprinting past the open door in the corridor it leads to.

“Wait up!” Félix hisses after Jason.

It seems Jason manages to hear him and skids on the balls of his steel-toed boots, scratching up the wooden flooring, to stare at them with his green eyes blazing. “Alix was fucking right.” He bites out.

“We are coming with you, to save her.” Kagami states, looking equally furious.

Jason cocks his head to the side. “Then c'mon, we need to run.”

The four exchange nods and glances and burst into a sprint down the hallway, following Luka's directions.

Direction after direction after direction. It feels like Luka relays to them hundreds of those endless directions before the four of them reach a long hallway with double doors at the end that has a large sign above it, labelled: Backstage.

Skidding to a stop again, Jason holds out an arm to stop the others as well. “As much as I want to run in, laser guns a-blazin', who knows what kinda fucking security shit they've got ready for us.”

Adrien grimaces. “But they knew we didn't know that they have Marinette. So why would they prepare security for us rescuing her when they're trying to capture us?”

“Have you forgotten how much security the Big Butterfly placed around my mother, after brainwashing her? Public spectacles like this always involve far too much security around the shining star of the show!” Félix spits acerbically, fists shaking, breathing shallow.

Adrien places a hand on his shoulder. “Worst case situation, we can get Kaalki to get us out and we can try and rescue Marinette another time.”

Jason scowls. “If we're forced to do that, I want to shoot that fucker's skull in first.”

“Technically, shouldn't Adrien get right of shooting him before you?” Kagami asks, half-smiling that awkward smile of hers.

Huffing, Jason nods to Adrien. “Fine, but I dibs second shot then. And if you go for the skull, I'm shooting that bastard in the fucking dick.”

Adrien makes a choking noise and doubles over, barely managing to stifle his laughter. He takes a few deep breaths and wipes tears away from his eyes. “Deal!” He wheezes, “please, I'd like nothing more than for you to get the second shot and do that!”

“Good fucking choice,” Jason mutters in response, a cheeky grin crossing his face for but a second before it falls back to the furious snarl. “Now, let's see what's behind the doors and get our anthill tiger back!”

The earpieces Jason, Félix, and Adrien are wearing, buzz again. “Might want to hurry up.” Luka smoothly informs. “Three human guards are coming your way. And as far as Max can see through his hacking, there's no android guards or drones backstage.” He pauses, “the rest of our gang won't be able to reach you four in time, neither will Sparrow's. You're going solo.”

The four exchange quick glances among themselves. “That's a risk we're willing to take if it means getting Marinette back.”

“I'll keep you updated on any changes. Break a leg or three, especially try to break the Big Butterfly's legs if you can.” Luka responds.

Jason snorts. “We'll try our best.”

The channel goes silent, as Jason quietly opens the backstage doors and the four of them sneak through.

———

The show has ended, by the time the four of them arrive through the backstage doors. Jason spots a rack of clothes and gestures to the others to follow him as he creeps over to hide behind it.

She's there. Marinette—or Phoebus, as the Big Butterfly had called her. There in the centre of the backstage. Standing stock-still. Still dressed in that fucking chrysalis—butterfly dress. Like a creepy human-sized doll.

Jason focuses on his breathing, in and out, in and out, in and out. Trying not to let the sickly radioactive green flood his vision and veins.

He freezes as he watches the Big Butterfly himself stride up to her and circle her like a vulture.

“You did very well today, Phoebus.” The Big Butterfly says, with a sneer on his face. “Unfortunately, my son and Nephew have so rudely absconded from their booth before the show ended.”

The Papillon Phoebus dips her head, and ever so hollowly sounding, replies, “that is most unfortunate.”

It takes all Jason's concentration to not be sick at how empty she sounds and acts. He glances at the others and Kagami, Adrien, and Félix all look sickened by the sight.

The Big Butterfly's sneer morphs into a scowl. “It is indeed. However, Mademoiselle Bourgeois was able to inform us of something very interesting.”

Tilting her head to one side, the Papillon Phoebus stares blankly at him. “Oh?”

“Apparently, my son had quite the reaction to the sight of you on stage, my Papillon. Isn't that interesting.” The Big Butterfly taunts.

She blinks at him then nods slowly and stiffly. “Yes. That is very interesting, Monsieur Agreste.”

His scowl curls into a victorious sneer. “That's what I thought, my dear Papillon.”

Jason shakes, he can't watch any more of this fucking creepy-ass bastard messing with his gang co-leader. He whips both of his recently upgraded guns from their holsters and grips the handles with whitening knuckles.

Before the others can think to stop him, Jason dives out of cover and shoots his twin guns. Pew-pew!

The laser bolts slam into the back of the Big Butterfly, frying two circles into his suit and melting the material to his skin.

The Big Butterfly screams in pain and fury. He pivots in place to turn and glare at where the shots had come from. The light flashes across his glasses again, making the lenses appear opaque. As his gaze latches onto Jason, his victorious sneer splits and twists and unfurls into a monstrous smirk. He starts to laugh, like poison bubbling and frothing from his lips.

And as the Big Butterfly does, Jason catches sight of the glint of small purple flapping around the Papillon Phoebus'—Marinette's—neck.

The bubbling and frothing poison of an Akuma's transformation swirls around her, staining every speck of her and forming a glimmering chrysalis once more.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Jason chants under his breath. Eyes wide with instant regret, he taps his earpiece. “We fucked up! Holy fucking shit, we fucked up!”

“What?!” Comes the frantic response from Luka. “What do you mean? What's happened? What did you do?”

Jason laughs nervously, “she's an Akuma! She's been fucking akumatised.”

“Hold on as long as possible, the others got swarmed by guards and can't reach you yet.” Luka frets.

At that, Kagami, Adrien, and Félix all burst out from behind the clothes rack, each with laser pistols also in hand. Zap-zap-zap.

The three more shots ring out but only one hits, Adrien and Félix both shaking too much for theirs to land.

“We shall try.” Félix responds to Luka.

The chrysalis-Akuma-poison coalesces around the Papillon Phoebus before cracking and dripping away. Revealing two large butterfly wings exactly like the dress. Phoebus wings. She flutters her wings and begins to float a metre or so above the ground.

“Fuck!” Jason curses, and behind him he can hear the other three echoing the sentiment. He stares at the purple butterfly chain around her throat. “Akuma is in the necklace!”

A bright light, not dissimilar to a flashbang, pops off. Immediately blinding all four of them.

“Capture them!” The Big Butterfly orders.

Kagami yelps.

The blindness caused by the light fades, and Adrien gasps. Jason swears under his breath again, and he and Félix both fire off more shots. This time towards the Akuma object, as the Big Butterfly has vanished.

Cocooned to the ground, Kagami squirms, trying to free herself from the Akuma's trap.

“Fucking shit!” Jason helpfully says on the earpiece channel. “She's trying to fucking capture us for the fucking bastard! And he's disappeared!” He bodily throws himself to the ground to dodge a mote of brilliant radiance lancing towards him.

The Papillon Phoebus tilts her head to the side, wings glittering with bright golden light like her namesake. Safely blocking the laser blasts towards her object with her massive wings.

Thankfully, only one of Kagami's hands is trapped. And not the one with the gun. As quietly as possible, she shoots the gun to slice through the cocoon and free herself.

The wings start to glow brighter and brighter and brighter.

“Flashbang!” Jason yells, diving behind cover in the form of a cluster of mannequins and slapping a hand over his eyes.

Kagami grabs Adrien and the two duck behind a different rack of clothes. Whilst Félix leaps over a stack of boxes and hides there.

The radiance flares once more, but fails to blind any of them.

“We need to shoot the object. I'll draw the attention at the front. Kagami, get behind and get ready to shoot her in the back as a distraction. Adrien and Félix, you two flank her on opposite sides.” Jason plans quietly into the earpiece channel.

Jason leaves his hiding spot first, vaulting over the cluster of mannequins and shoots a laser bolt at the Papillon Phoebus' necklace again. It's blocked by the wings, as to be expected.

Félix leaps back over the stack of boxes and flanks the Papillon Phoebus on the right. Whilst Adrien rolls out from behind the clothes rack and flanks on the left.

The three in position, shoot simultaneously at the Akuma, as to distract her.

Kagami bolts from her hiding spot and flanks behind the Papillon Phoebus.

The wings start to flutter and glow brighter once more.

“Now!” Jason yells.

Zap!

The blast slams into the Papillon Phoebus' back, right between where her wings connect to her shoulder blades. Instinctively she splays her wings out in pain and curls backwards.

Zap-zap!

Two more blasts slam into her, one in each wingtip.

Zap!

Finally, Jason shoots last and his aim is true. Crackle-snap!

The blast sears through the chain necklace, warping the metal and snapping it in twain.

The two parts of the object clatter to the ground and a purple butterfly claws itself out from the broken chains.

Jason spins his gun in his hand and shoots a final laser straight through the moth. Burning a perfect hole through its wings and killing it instantly. Purple Akuma-goop leaks from its injuries and then fades, leaving behind the scorched corpse of what was once a white butterfly.

He sighs in relief, and quickly taps his earpiece. “Akuma dealt with.”

As he says that, the Akuma de-transforms midair and Marinette collapses to the ground. Limp, like a puppet with their strings cut or a discarded doll—a cracked Pupa.

“Thank fuck.” Luka's responds over the channel, sounding tired.

Jason drags a hand down his face. The green poisoning his vision dissipates for the time being, and he hurries over to Marinette. Ever so carefully, he scoops her into his arms—bridal style—and pulls her close to his chest.

Kagami drops to her knees and breathes.

Adrien weakly punches the air with his gun in hand. “Wooh! Luka, we're calling a key home. Disable security please?”

Félix snorts, moving back to lean against the stack of boxes.

“No need, there's no security cameras backstage. I'll hear your songs when you back at base.” Luka relays, tone light with happiness and relief despite the tiredness. “The others have dealt with the guards, so they're on their way back too.”

Adrien transforms with Kaalki, becoming Cheval Mallet. He walks over to Kagami and offers her a hand. Félix, and Jason with Marinette unconscious in his arms join them.

The portal opens up before them, and they walk through together. Today, they've won another battle. Tomorrow they'll try to find out what has been done to Marinette. But tonight, tonight all the conscious members of the gang huddle together in the lounge. And among themselves, they build a pillow and blanket fort, and relax.

They're all together, and they're all safe, for once.

———

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little fic! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

| So title dissection, Atelier meaning Fashion Studio comes from the Latin "Astula" meaning "Splinter", Astula also is the Genus for the flower Asphodel. Phoebus as mentioned in the fic is the god of light but it also means "Bright". Eclose is the leaving of a cocoon/chrysalis. Pupa is another term for cocoon/chrysalis when the butterfly/moth becomes soup and goes through metamorphosis. But it also comes from the Latin meaning Girl or Doll. So In the Fashion Studio's Glow, the Bright/Light Doll will be Released. |

| Fun Fact: Larva/Larvae mean Mask or Ghost in Latin. Also the suffix "Arches" means Leader/Ruler. So Jasonarches means Jason-Leader :3 |

| Also feel free to send me any comments with any questions you have regarding this fic, I'll be more than happy to answer! |

| @jasonette-july-event |

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albino-whumpee · 3 years

Text

Blank Space

An idea came to mind so here. Just gonna say I made a playlist for Albus and Sann on spotify. Here. You can go listen to it here.

Taglist! Hope you liked it! Thank you for reading and sticking by for so long! :D

@castielamigos-whump-side-blog @giggly-evil-puppy @cowboysrappin @haro-whumps @burtlederp @neuro-whump @comfortforthepain @whumps-the-word @whole-and-apart-and-between @broken-horn @ashintheairlikesnow @rosesareviolentlyread @crowned-avery @starnight-whump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @as-a-matter-of-whump @whumpasaurus101 @grizzlie70 @twistedcaretaker

CW// child abuse and domestic violence, children going missing, child neglect, starvation, and useless child services.

“…ller…Mu…”

Someone was calling for him. But there was a ringing on his ears and his head hurt. The cap on his head with the chipped borders, protected him from the annoying white light of the school´s infirmary. He had been sent there during E.P. After he had refused to continue doing sit-ups because of the pain. In the distance, he heard a sigh.

“Serra”

“Don´t call me that” the boy´s lips moved instantly.

The guy with the white lab coat let out a sigh.

“Sorry, Muller. But I can´t do anything if you don´t show me what´s wrong” the boy exhaled, trying to dissimulate how much it pained him to do even that.

“Can´t you feel it above the clothes or something?” the boy tried to negotiate. The shame swallowing whole. The man gave him an exasperated frown as reply. Muller sighed, wetting his lips before putting his hands on the dirty gym shirt. The last tower standing between him and the reality the doctor shouldn´t see. Shouldn´t know. “Please?”

“Muller…” that tone was the signal to drop it. So he braced and lifted it up to the man, straying his eyes to a corner. The man´s eyes turned into brown plates, mouth hanging disgusted at the way his bones looked like they were trying to pop out the thin layer of bruised skin.

“Oh my god…” he exhaled just before he saw the shirt fall. The man opened his mouth a few times. Like a fish trying to breath out of the water. Gasping for just a bit of precious oxygen. But he was just a man who rubbed the side of his head and leaned on to him with those eyes full of pity he didn´t want. “I know you´re no fighter, Muller. You´re the quiet kid with regular notes. Can you tell me where did you really get those?”

He stayed quiet. Locking his jaw as he breathed in.

If he said the truth it would be worse. It would hurt and not only for him. It would be bad and even worse for Annie. Who was in class. Surely talking with her friends and bragging about the cake he had bought for her birthday. Smiling despite the bandages on her wrist.

He had tried before. To tell someone with authority about his father. He had been hopeful. They had patched him up and let him bath and eat a normal meal. But what happened then was that he was sat in a cold room with a chair in the middle. Talked with a woman that simply took notes, before giving him back to the man they had told him he wouldn´t see again. Just to go straight back home and resume what had made him call child services in the first place.

“I got into a fight” He said.

“Tell me the truth”

“I got into a fight”

“We both know-”

“It won´t change anything if I say the truth or not” Muller said with red eyes lit up in rage.

“Serra…”

“Don´t call me that. I got into a fight and lost. That´s the truth” The ringing on his ears went up. “Just…Just do your damn job and give me something for the pain, doc” the boy said scrunching his eyes, passing a hand over them roughly, in hopes it would end the headache. His dad had grabbed the broom on his hands while he cleaned the living room´s floor of the carpet of beer cans. Said the sound woke him up. So he shoved him to the floor and let it rain down until it broke. Then he had lost interest and gone back to sleep. That´s when he could scramble outside. Forgetting his backpack on the way.

The doctor let out a long, long breath that just made Muller grit his teeth. He finally rolled down to a cabinet. Unlocked it and let his fingers navigate the few pill cases there were. Nothing strong. Nothing that would stop the fear and the pain forever. Just a pill of ibuprofen.

Muller wasn´t amused in the slightest, but it would help. That and a bit of ice on his eye. The doctor put a bag of it on his lap. Taking off the cap, he let his head hang. Letting the cool sensation of the ice wash the pain away.

“Lay down and don´t take the pill just yet, ok? Do you like sandwiches, Muller?” He asked digging on his backpack next to the desk. Taking out his wallet.The boy snapped his healthy eye open going red of embarrassment. Of course, you need to eat something before taking pills and that had happened yesterday afternoon. Around seventeen hours ago.

It vaguely reminded him of Don, the doctor’s clinic where appointments were profusely refused to be paid and the man even gave them his own children’s old clothes. The boy had tried to keep the smell when he did laundry, but it inevitably started to smell like his father at some point.

“Y-yes, Thank you…” he muttered before the man turned to the door. Or tried to, before the albino grabbed his wrist. “Doc, please, don´t tell anybody about this” the man gave him a pained look as the ice bag slipped off his face. “I…Albinos bruise easily…it was just a fight I lost. Please…” Muller hoped it was enough. He was aware he was known among his classmates as a troublemaker. Coming with bruises and scratches almost every day kept people at an arm length. He would use that. He could use it and keep people away from the truth. That he didn´t search for trouble because going back home was enough.

Just so she wouldn´t need to do the same.

The man slowly put away the boy´s hand. “It´s absolutely impossible to call someone, Muller? Child services?” he knelt next to him. Taking the ice pack that had slid to his lap and putting it against his swollen eye. “You don´t have anyone you could stay with? Just for a while?”

The boy´s face went dark. Even as it formed an ironic smile.

“Why would I be here if I had a place like that, Doc?”

—-

When he went back to class, patched up and cradling his ribs, changed into his normal wear from the secret backpack on his locker, to enter art class. He saw a few people muttering something when he came inside the classroom before pulling his cap down. Looking at his red sneakers as he navigated to his seat at the front. Then tried to blink into focus the words on the board.

“Free assignment. High contrast. Acrylics. Due next Wednesday. Be sure to return the materials clean and dry. Be creative!”

Muller sighed slowly. They weren’t sure if they really had a teacher or if they were being given classes by a ghost, as they would have the instructions written on the board and had to leave them on the desk that day or the date written. Receiving their scores through email he had to check on the library.

It was odd, but it was also easier to not be disrupted on the only place he could take his cheap mp3, put the earphones to silence the room and just paint. His moment of full relaxation of the week.

After putting the earphones, he had no idea what to paint, however. He stared at it with a pencil on his hand for a long time, drumming it into his jeans, until an idea came to his head, making him smile. He rolled up the sleeves of his oversized sweater and dipped into sketching light lines over the smooth surface. Halfway through an upbeat song, he felt eyes on him. Brown eyes staring into the purple of his forearm. Not shiny from the cream the doctor had rubbed on it to numb out the pain anymore.

Muller rolled back down the sleeve, pulling his eyes away, before he stood up to grab the paint tubes in the other side of the room. A few girls scooting away as they spotted him. Always looking down, averting his sight from other’s curious eyes.

Two hours of work later, the black paint had reigned over the canvas. He had had to squint harder to get the tiniest little details of it right. Using negative space to frame the silhouette of fruit plate, a candlestick with hanging jewels and a chalice. Leaving them completely white.

A blank space in the immense blackness.

Happy with the result and having played the list four times, he accidentally put the brush with black paint over his cheek. Rubbing it away just smudging it. Letting out a groan, he noticed nobody was there anymore. Had left their half assed paintings on the desk or simply left.

He began to pick up the dirty brushes left from his classmates and went to the sink to clean them thoroughly like always. He didn’t need thanks, but it would be easier if they didn’t try to put out the desperation of the exam periods on the poor brush by smashing them open. There always was one that couldn’t be saved. He was about to throw it out, right when he saw the bruise on his forearms. Going darker in long stripes.

He pressed his lips together as he dipped the brush into the white paint and stroked his arm with it. The cool sensation of the sticky material covering his bruised skin, almost melting into his natural color made him do the same to his other arm.

When he finished it was almost as if he hadn’t fled his house after being hit with a broom that morning. It had been so easy to cover them as it was easy to wipe it off in a rush for the next class. Half finishing up and putting the painting on the desk. Trying to run as fast as he could, when he heard someone coming closer.

The woman saw him scramble outside the classroom as she went in through the other door. She just came in to take the paintings to her car to evaluate, but that time she found herself absorbed on the painting. Taking it into her hands, shocked. Noticing to a smile the same little “A. M.” Painted on the far corner, always there on her favorites of the class. She turned to the door, light brown wavy hair jumping swiftly at the motion.

She put the painting on top of the others as she marched back to the parking spot her old Tsuru was on. She would make sure to arrive early next time and offer him that little place on the students exhibition.

She did wake up early, to most of her disgrace and her co worker’s surprise. She did arrive to class with the announcement of the school’s artistic exhibition, spooking her students and earning groans, but she didn’t see a kid with a white ponytail in oversized clothes. Not the next week, or the one after that.

His painting hanged on large boards among other student’s works, regardless. But he never came back to see it

#you came back a stranger #wru #oc #original fiction #hurt comfort #angst #emotional whump #whump #my writing #writing #whumpblr #albus #annie #tw domestic abuse #tw child neglect #tw starvation #tw child services #tw bruises #trauma response

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vidalinav · 3 years

Text

Dance Like Your Falling In Love

Summary: One shot; Cassian doesn’t know how to dance, everyone tries to teach him but he’s hopeless.

I implore you to listen to The Dance from Martin Phipps, one of the best scores I’ve ever heard from BBC’s War and Peace. Please Please listen as you read. Youtube, Spotify. Whatever, This whole fic is based off of that score.

Masterlist

“You have faced beings larger than you, more powerful, more dangerous, and yet you’re telling me that you’re afraid to dance,” Rhys offered skeptically.

“I am not afraid…” Cassian grumbled. “I just don’t see why I have to do it.”

It, being the dreaded waltz that they were now discussing as being “necessary” for future political endeavors. Bull. Shit.

Feyre leaned her head back against the settee where Rhys was shuffling through papers. “The next meeting we have with the high lords will be at a ball.”

“And not just the high lords will be there,” Azriel chimed in, “the leaders from the continent as well.”

Cassian rolled his eyes. “So what? We have to show off our table manners to get them to sign a treaty?”

“Whatever it takes Cassian,” Mor sang from where she lounged on the couch.

“I’ve hired Anna Pavlova to come tomorrow to…” Rhys gave him a pointed glance, “brush up on our skills so to speak.”

Cassian’s look of disgust must have said enough, because Amren snickered at her position at the coffee table where she was completing a puzzle in the middle of their strategy meeting.

“That old hag,” Cassian complained.

Amren huffed a laugh, “Our skills,” she said mockingly, looking to Cassian. He tried not to take offense to that.

Cassian crossed his arms, sitting back as if he were a child who’d just learned he was getting extra lessons as opposed to dinner time and an hour of play. This was unfair.

“Remember to dress nice,” Azriel grinned.

Rhys looked to him with a teasing glint in his eyes, “You know how Madam Pavlova can get.”

Cassian did know how the Madam could get, so he chose to wear pressed slacks, in which he only owned one pair and a nice dress shirt that Cassian hoped was clean. He had found it in the back of his closet, and after asking Nuala for an iron he’d almost burned off the sleeve.

He wished he’d burned off the sleeve. Maybe then he could get out of this ridiculous lesson like he was twelve again. But no, knowing Rhys, he’d probably have a whole suit for him. Cauldron forbid, it would have probably been sky blue with frills.

That bastard.

He twisted the tie around his neck, and after several minutes of twisting and knotting and twisting some more, Cassian yanked it off and threw it on the ground, stomping on it as he let out his frustrations.

When he was younger, Madam Pavlova would pick and prod at his tie, saying, in that thick accent of hers, that it needed to be tied tighter so the neck will have no room but to remain straight and tall. He’d nearly tore it to pieces every night after their classes had finished.

It was their mother’s idea to put them in lessons and Rhys hadn’t minded so much, the bastard he was, and the Madam had praised Azriel as almost every tutor and trainer did. Cassian though, she’d complain about. He wasn’t doing enough, he was goofing off, he glued her bag to the stage… the last one still made him laugh on occasion. Point being, Madam Pavlova hated him, but mostly because try as he might, Cassian could not dance.

So, Cassian walked with a certain amount of apprehension through the gardens where this “brush up” would take place. An impressive array of flowers were around the square, most noticeably the incredible rose bushes that were tall and in full bloom surrounding the paved open space.

True to his High Lord’s excessiveness, there was practically an orchestra by the square, tuning their instruments and strumming lightly. Practicing for the event of the season, Cassian thought sardonically.

As soon as he noticed the female, her gait tall and thin, Cassian shirked back, wanting to turn away. Madam Pavlova had not changed… and Cassian didn’t know what to do with that information. She was no closer to death and something about that made him snap at his luck.

She raised a brow at him as he entered, calling him forward in attention.

“Let me look at you.”

The others were already gathered, including Varian who’d stayed with Amren in the past week, and Nesta and Elain. The former he tried not to glance at, not even a little.

“Yeah Cassian, spin for us,” Rhys teased.

Cassian flipped him off. At the displeased look from the Madam, Cassian lowered his hand slowly, grumbling to himself.

“You have grown since last I’ve seen you. Though I see, your clothes are still wrinkled and you can’t keep a tie.”

“You haven’t changed either, Madam. I see your still a bi—”

“Best we get started soon, I think,” Azriel interrupted.

The Madam smiled sweetly at Azriel. “Yes. Yes, my dear. The sooner we start, the better the dancers you become.”

She looked at them all, pursing her lips, her fingers pointing at each one of them. At last, she snapped.

“There is not enough partners!” the Madam raised, her voice going deep with displeasure.

The others looked at each other, perhaps deciding silently who would sit this one out, but it was Nesta who claimed the decision. She didn’t even acknowledge the Madam as she left the line of them, going to sit on a bench. He watched as she opened a book that she pulled out of her skirt and began reading as if that what she was planning to do all along.

Nesta promptly ignored them and she looked every bit the part of a painting. Picturesque boredom, Cassian would call it. Madam Pavlova looked to her and sniffed at the lack of manners, but Cassian snickered. It was perhaps the only entertainment he’d get today.

Leave it to Nesta to get under the old bat’s nerves. He almost felt proud.

The Madam knocked her cane next to his feet in attention, and when he looked away from Nesta, the Madam was standing in front of him a look of disdain on her face. Cassian tried not to feel twelve again, shrinking where he stood.

But she dismissed him, raising her nose and walking back through the line of them.

“To waltz is to dance as one. You and the other must constantly move with each other, anticipating the other’s move,” She stood taller, gesturing with her hands in length. Cassian wanted to laugh at the innuendo of size, but he was not a child. Besides, he doubted she’d appreciate the joke. “This is the space that should be between you and your partner, like magnets attract, you must remain within this space. Pushing, pulling, but always close.”

He could hear the wicked tap of her heels on the concrete. “Now when we begin, gentlemales, I want you to bow, and ladies, I want you to curtsy before and after the dance as properly instructed.”

Cassian watched as Rhys grabbed Feyre’s waist, pulling her forward as she rolled her eyes.

“You do know I don’t know how to waltz, don’t you?” She drawled.

“If I’m leading, Feyre darling, you know how to waltz.”

Feyre scoffed, laughing as she said, “You know, your ego might make us both fall over.”

When Cassian looked in front of him, Mor was grinning at him, taking his hand with confidence. Oh right, he thought to himself, she hadn’t arrived yet when they were first taught this. Well, she was in for a surprise.

He gripped her hand tightly, his back rigid as the music began to play. A cacophony of noise in the background. A melody of strings and woodwinds.

Cassian stepped forward as Mor stepped forward, and in a fit of perfect chaos that only he could cause, they smacked their foreheads together.

“Ouch,” Mor gasped, holding her head in her palms.

“Sorry,” Cassian mumbled, pretending his own head didn’t hurt.

Asking if she needed ice or a bandage, Mor simply rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand once more. Cassian looked to Madam Pavlova and he could see the glare in her eyes. She lifted her chin and Cassian knew it was her way of telling him to get to it.

And he tried…

“By the Mother, Cassian. It’s forward then right.”

Cassian threw up his hands, “It’s not my fault you’re leading. The male is supposed to lead!”

“I wouldn’t have to lead if you were good at dancing!”

“Enough,” the Madam called out, stomping her cane as she eyed them all. “Switch partners.”

Elain went to Rhys, Mor to Azriel, and Feyre, at last, to him. Amren refused to let go of Varian, and he thought she might have latched on to him like a spider monkey if they tried to pull her away.

Feyre smiled up at him, and laughingly curtsied as he remembered to bow. Grabbing his outstretched hand, she titled her head with concern, probably feeling how clammy his hands had gotten.

“Relax Cassian,” Feyre spoke, her brows furrowing. “It’s just like being on the battlefield.”

“How do you mean?” He asked a little too eagerly.

“Well, I’d think you’d agree that there’s a certain level of movement in battle that resembles dancing. A step here, a step there, parry, cross…”

Cassian nodded slowly, his voice sounding out of breath. “Okay. Parry. Cross.”

But when Cassian tried this technique, he only ended up stepping on her toes. He could hear Rhys and Az snickering in the background as he profusely apologized to Feyre.

“Ten silvermarks says he trips her next.”

“Twenty says they both land on the floor.”

Cassian chose to ignore his friends, making a mental reminder to beat them when they trained later in the evening.

“Okay,” Feyre exhaled, “One step, two step—Ow!”

“Sorry! Sorry!”

He heard the hard tick of the cane abruptly hit the concrete and the deep sigh of disappointment as Madam Pavlova stopped the music. He watched as she covered her eyes with her hands, as if she couldn’t stand to see the shame.

“We will start again,” She announced with that thick accent of hers, “Switch again.”

They began to shift, but Cassian caught Nesta’s gaze. Her book abandoned, sitting at her side and he mentally grumbled that his pain must have been entertaining to her.

Technically Amren was next, but she pushed Elain towards him.

“No chance I’m dancing with him.”

Cassian made a face.

Elain giggled. Flowers were tucked in her hair, and as she curtsied the petals glided in the soft wind. Cassian bowed sheepishly, already regretting being paired with someone as sweet as her. He knew she wouldn’t tell him when he hurt her, and he already felt guilty as the music started.

“I apologize in advance for stepping on your feet.”

He was right of course, because when the monotonous tune once again stopped abruptly, Elain smiled through the pained expression.

And it was that look that made deep frustration fill his chest. After all this time, after all this practice, he could still not waltz. He had not learned at twelve, he’d not learned at five like Rhys or Mor. No tutors or governesses had taught him how to be adequate. All Cassian had learned as a child was to hit where it hurt and to take anything he could get his hands on.

His mother would’ve been ashamed.

Rhys’s mother—the only mother he knew—would have sat back and sighed. As disappointed as Madam Pavlova. He could almost see it, the look as the Madam had told her that he wasn’t progressing like Rhys and Azriel were. That he wasn’t fit for the life of a socialite or high-class citizen. He was rubbish, bastard trash.

It will bring you skill in battle and luck in love, she’d said as he did behind the desk, waiting for the classes to be over.

Cassian didn’t feel skilled or lucky, and he clenched his fists, his impatience sounding as loud as that orchestra that played the same tune over and over. He wanted to go over there and shove that flute up the musician’s—

Cassian felt a hand on his shoulder and his gaze landed on hers as he settled his hand on her waist.

Her hair was in that ever-present coronet, but today, it had been tied with a white bow on the back. Cassian could see the ends of the ribbon touch her neck, flapping lightly. His eyes drifted the whole of her. She was wearing a sleeveless dress, the short straps bordered by delicate lace at the shoulders and neckline and all of her looked like the picture of elegance. A beautiful, proper lady.

He was not fit to hold her, not really. Not even if he wanted to, even if he imagined it sometimes—when he allowed himself to dream. Cassian was certain of it as she grasped his hand. It was so much smaller than his, her skin so much softer than the callouses that lined his palms.

Nesta blinked up at him, her long lashes casting shadows along her face. The teal color of her gown brought out the blue in her eyes.

A perfect female indeed.

As the music started, he felt the strongest urge to pull away so she could not see how inadequate he was. Never mind that she’d never see him that way. Cassian did not want her to see him in any way that pointed out his flaws. He’d already shown her too many.

But she took in a breath, her chest rising and falling, and he unconsciously did the same. A calm setting over them like the soft notes of a piano playing.

“It’s just you…” She said softly, lower than the whisper of notes. He focused on her mouth as she spoke, eager for the words to reach his ears. She moved a step. Cassian lured by her movement, followed. “And me…” She mouthed as she moved another, her grip warm in his palm.

“And the music.”

Cassian didn’t realize they’d been moving as he stared, staying closer to her. As she moved, he moved, as she dipped he followed. If she spun he was there, holding her hand to bring her back to him as if they were in orbit. The earth and the moon in constant rotation, holding each other together as they traveled around the sun.

The music slowed around them, and it was not the same sound as when they began. Perhaps, Cassian had tuned it out altogether in favor of staring into Nesta’s eyes as if she could see all the way to his soul.

She had come to him, come to his rescue when he was panicked and alone, and Cassian once again felt it in his chest—that deep feeling that… Nesta had known him for all his life. Had understood his darkest places, his bitterest fears.

They slowed to a stop, but Cassian didn’t let go until the clapping started. Nesta cringed as she pulled away, clapping slowly as she chose to look anywhere but at him.

He didn’t look at the others, but he thought perhaps they’d been watching them for their applause was… teasing and careful.

“Oh!” Cassian gasped. Nesta’s gaze flew to his, but he merely bowed lowly, his hair hanging from his face.

Nesta smiled lightly, a soft, cautious tilt of her lips. Her neck and back were straight as she curtsied, grace in every moment.

She backed away from him, and Cassian tried not to reach for her, tried not to be noticeably discomforted from that lack of closeness. He watched as she picked up her book, and settled back on the bench, her teal gown bright against the red rose bushes.

He refused to look at the others as he turned away, but Cassian looked to Madam Pavlova.

She was nodding slowly in approval.

@allilal @ekaterinakostrova @soitsgorgeous (I forget who to tag. So I just tagged people I know??)

I honestly don’t know where this came from because I wrote it in a hour, which clearly says I’m a liar when I say I cannot write in a timely fashion.

Umm, I hoped you liked it. It was technically I guess suppose to go in my longer fic, but since ACOSF is coming out soon, I feel like I won’t finish that, so I’m thinking of just posting one shots of things that happen. But Idk. This might have just been a shot in the dark.

Anyways Happy New Year!!! Nessian makes everything better!

Comment, Reblog, Like for more and happy reading!

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian fanfic #acosf #acotar #acowar #acomaf

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alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom · 3 years

Text

THE MASTERPIECE: CHAPTER 3/5

Pairing: Modern!IVAR x Reader x Modern!HVITSERK

Spotify playlist: here (only for those who like latin urban music)

Warnings: implied smut/oral sex, strong language

Words: 1938

a/n: This MASTERPIECE was so much fun. It was such an honor to do this with you @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie. Every hour of writing and editing was definitely worth it!

Summary:

Ivar and Hvitserk had always prided themselves in being the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok. They had a comfortable life full of everything they wanted: houses, cars, money, and the most beautiful women. And with all of that came the security of always having the upper hand. But what happens when a bewitching girl from Ragnar’s past arrives into their lives claiming his fortune?

“Now’s your turn, brother. Tell me what happened.” Ivar grunted, ignoring the chatter of people in their lunch break that only grew louder with each passing minute that they remained at the café.

“Well, some days after your ‘business meeting’…” Hvitserk air quoted the word with irony and Ivar puffed out a breath in exasperation. He was anxiously sitting on the edge of his seat, wishing Hvitserk would hurry the fuck up. “...she called me as well.”

~~·······~~

“Hvitserk?”

“Yeah, who’s this?”

She could hear a noisy crackle on the other side of the line. Was he... eating?

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Who?” The obnoxious sound of a slurp resounded next. Yeah. He definitely had food in his mouth.

“The girl who owns your fortune.” She explained flatly.

“Why are you calling me? And where did you get my number?”

“I want to apologize and…-” She hesitated. “...yeah, just that, I guess. I want to say sorry. In person. I can go to where you are or you can come to my house again.”

“Really?” His teeth crunched down on whatever crispy snack he was nibbling.

Y/N made an effort to make her fake discomfort ring true with long awkward pauses: “…Yeah… But is it possible... that you don’t tell Ivar about this? I’m not exactly... comfortablewith him around...” Then came a planned stutter: “I’d like to s-solve this without him.”

Hvitserk hesitated but agreed. “Uh- sure.”

And it was sold.

After all, she wasn’t the first woman who was afraid of Ivar.

She smirked slyly.

“Ivar’s out on a business trip and he will be gone until tomorrow. I’d tell you where we live, but I’m pretty sure you already know our address. Since you’re the new mistress of the house and all…” He spat out with irony.

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

~~·······~~

“I’m guessing that’s when you first slept together.” Ivar chimed in much to the blond’s annoyance.

“Don’t do that... Don’t interrupt me. I want to finish, please.”

“Is that how you used to beg her?” Ivar tried his hand at a sarcastic dirty joke.

Hvitserk clenched his jaw and exhaled. “Very funny. But yes. That was the first time...”

“How many more nights were there?” Ivar shifted in his seat. His coffee had turned cold as ice almost a half-hour ago. He was visibly uncomfortable by their conversation but he still needed to know how many times he’d been fooled by Y/N.

“A couple...” Hvitserk slid down in his seat and avoided giving a direct answer.

Ivar narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t going to let it slide so he insisted: “I asked how many.”

“Every night for at least a week. Then a few times a week for a month or so. I don’t know, baby bro. I wasn’t exactly counting.” Hvitserk’s eyes showed a sense of pride. Even though he’d been cheated just as Ivar had, he still acted as if he’d won some unspoken competition between them.

“Every night?! Are you fucking kidding me brother?!” Ivar stopped listening after the first two words.

“Hey, you fucked her too and you didn’t tell me anything about it either. So, calm down.”

Ivar pressed his lips together and nodded stoically. “I see.” He didn’t want to let Hvitserk know how much the knowledge of their nights together was hurting him. By comparison, Y/N and Ivar had only slept together a handful of times. Maybe Y/N really liked his brother best. Maybe she only slept with Ivar because she had to, and she faked every second of it but it was Hvitserk the one that truly made her moan and shiver under his touch. With a slight shake of his head, Ivar shoved the thought out of his mind.

“Are you mad?” There it was again, that antagonizing glint in Hvitserk’s pupils.

“Just- go on...” Ivar knitted his eyebrows together and looked to the side, fixing his gaze on the countertop where a young man was placing his money to pay for his coffee.

~~·······~~

When Y/N stepped through the door of the Lothbrok’s grand mansion, she wasn’t sure of what she was expecting, but seeing Hvitserk sprawled on the couch shirtless wasn’t it. She wasn’t counting on him being so attentive and pleasant, not after the number he pulled last time, and she definitely wasn’t expecting him to charm her into bed so quickly. She hadn’t come to his domain to be seduced, she wanted to be the one seducing him, looking for little weak spots in his defenses that she could use against him later.

But he’d changed his whole strategy. He wasn’t coming off as a fumbling asshole anymore. Rather, Hvitserk seemed at ease, confident, and with a peculiar spark in his eyes that should’ve tipped her off as to his intentions. It seemed to her that he’d made up his mind as to what was going to happen that night between them long before it happened. He was cute and he knew that she knew.

Y/N just couldn’t resist doing things his way for once and… having a little fun wouldn’t hurt either.

Minutes later, she was sinking to her knees in front of Hvitserk, as her hands slid up his thighs to pull at his belt with impatient fingers, then she helped him unzip his pants. All of a sudden, she was so eager to please him, looking up at him through the curly lashes that fanned her cheeks, and she knew then that she was making a mistake. A big one.

But mistakes rarely ever tasted that good. And they didn’t moan so good either. His voice was like music to her ears. His throaty praises sent a rush of warmth to her core and made her feel accomplished.

“Yes, Y/N, that’s a good girl. Just like that, baby girl.”

It seems like he’d finally learned her name.

Then, for the next hour or so, she discovered that his tongue served for more than just spewing unkind words. Whenever he flicked it against her skin, she sank deeper into her pleasure.

It was a struggle trying to come up with a strategy to get her way later when all she could think about was how she hadn’t been fucked that good in months. It was a miracle the bed hadn’t split in half.

She wondered how she was supposed to infiltrate his family and betray him now that they’d slept together. It would be a damn shame to lose the best lover she’d had in so long.

Hvitserk was never supposed to get the upper hand, not for one second, and she knew she should’ve felt angrier about it. But when Hvitserk threw a blanket around her body and an arm around her waist, she only moved to feel him closer.

“So… what did you want to talk to me about?” Hvitserk asked after an extended silence. Even without seeing his face, she could tell there was a smugness to his voice. The little bastard knew how much she had enjoyed their little tumble between the sheets.

“Well, I just feel like we got off on the wrong foot here.”

He scoffed. “Ya think?”

“Yeah, just because Ragnar left me in charge doesn’t mean that we can’t get along.” Y/N stared at the fireplace in his bedroom.

Among the many expensive pieces of art that she’d seen in their house, there was one that caught her attention. It was a painting of a proud woman bedecked in jewels and gold holding the decapitated head of a man above the fireplace. Y/N felt a satisfying darkness stirring inside her as she pictured Ragnar’s head where the man’s head was and her own face replacing the features of the woman. Her little fantasy brought her a smidge of happiness.

“That painting is really…. special.” She raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“Father had dozens of paintings scattered around the house, but this one is just sick. I don’t like it at all.”

Soon Y/N could have the Lothbrok’s place all to herself if she wanted. She still hadn’t figured out if she was going to kick Hvitserk and Ivar from their house. Leaving people without a roof over their heads seemed a little too cruel, even for her, but it was well within her power.

It was thrilling to know that everything that the Lothbrok’s owned was technically hers, but she still didn’t want to be too brash and upfront. They didn’t know who she’d been to Ragnar and she wanted to keep that information to herself.

“About that… who are you exactly? I mean, don’t get me wrong, this was fun… reallyfun…” Hvitserk ran his hand up her tired thigh, feeling every inch of her skin. “And I would definitely do it again… but you’re still the enemy.”

“I guess that makes you a very poor strategist.”

“I think you mean it makes usvery poor strategists… I can tell you came here with a mission before I got you all sidetracked.” Y/N heard his throat produce a low chuckle. “Contrary to what Ivar likes to think, I’m not stupid.” Hvitserk’s tone was carefree but somehow still serious.

“Actually…” Y/N sat up and clutched the sheets to her chest. “Yeah, yeah I did. I was reading through the papers that the lawyer left and I just… I think it’s too much. Don’t you?”

“What’s too much?” Hvitserk’s hand caressed her back up and down absentmindedly turning her skin to gooseflesh.

“This. All of this.” She gestured in the air with her hands. “Like, I don’t need all that you own. And as much as it would please me to piss you and Ivar off-”

Hvitserk scoffed with humor. “I bet…”

“I think I could settle for less.”

“I guess my first question is... why do you want to piss us off?” Hvitserk placed a hand on the back of her head, tightly scrunching a fistful of her hair to make her stretch back her neck before biting the exposed skin harshly. “We’ve never done anything to you, mysterious woman.”

“Maybe we could discuss that some other time.” Y/N closed her eyes and her throat whimpered.

His lips were hot like molten metal and just as velvety smooth. “I thought you came here to talk.” Hvitserk’s cheeky mouth kept sucking on her skin until she couldn’t handle the painful throbbing of her center anymore.

Y/N turned around and let him get on top. The thought of feeling Hvitserk filling her up again so soon made her quiver. This had to be the third time he’d taken her that night. He was insatiable and she loved it.

“And then my second question would be, what do you mean by ‘less’?” Hvitserk prodded while he positioned himself in between her legs.

“Mmm… something like that painting over there. I think it’s one of Klimt’s masterpieces, isn’t it? I could sell it and still live like a rich girl.”

“That was my father’s favorite painter.” Somehow, Hvitserk still had enough willpower to form coherent sentences. “We- hmm. Fuck.” He lifted her leg up to his shoulder then lowered his hips with a rough grunt. “We own lots of works by that artist. I’m sure we would not miss one stupid painting.”

“Sound like we could come up with an agreement then. But Hvitserk?”

“Yeah?” He sounded just as out of it as she felt.

Fuck, it was going to be hard to get rid of him.

“Business can wait.”

#ivar #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar fanfic #hvitserk #hvitserk ragnarsson #modern ivar #modern hvitserk #kattegat

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imgoingtocrash · 3 years

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Made of Iron, Born of Fire: The Fanmix

by @imgoingtocrash

Listen on Spotify and 8tracks

Read the series on Ao3

AKA: A labor of love for @savvysass’s birthday!!!!

What can I say that hasn’t already been said because we’re both incredibly sappy people in our Author’s Notes? Writing this series with you has brought me so much joy in the last two years, and I never could have hit over 100k words without you. Here’s to whatever we write next in the series...and all of the WIPs we’re working on right now...and only god knows what’s next for us personally and professionally...and most importantly, to you on your Birthday. Thank you for being such a good friend, in both fandom and outside of it. I’m so, so thankful to know you and love you. 🥰

Director’s Cut Below, because we all know I love talking about this series, and yes, that does extend to why I picked these songs. (And also maybe because these song choices only make sense in my brain and hopefully Savannah’s?? Who knows! Feel free to ask questions if you want but let’s be honest this series and fanmix are most importantly for us, because we love the series so dang much.)

My Wildest Dreams by Ron Pope

I spoke in riddles and in rhymes, but my time with you has taught me to simplify, you’re not quite what I pictured you would be, you’re better than my wildest dreams.

We’ve talked about this one before, and I’LL TALK ABOUT IT AGAIN!!!! Ron Pope is so good imo, and this song wowowow the father-child feels, but especially with Tony and newborn Peter a la A Foreign Feeling and A First Time For Everything.

Big & Scared by Raleigh Ritchie

I want to be better for you, let me do that now, you’re my favorite human, so you should be prepared, I’ll help you get through it, when you’re big and scared

We’ve mentioned Tony’s thoughts about legacy multiple times by now, and I think this song really represents Tony looking forward to the person Peter could be become and that “breaking the cycle” mentality of supporting Peter even when he’s not a perfect father.

Legacy of Sadness by Ron Pope

irrational as it may seem I guess I’m sorry, even though I know that none of it’s my fault, it is easier for me to count my blessings, than to cry for every single thing we’ve lost

I have 0 shame putting these two songs by Ron Pope almost back to back because they’re the opening and closing of an album dedicated to his child like...it’s so perfect for Tony and this theme of reflection on who he is and who Peter will become/is becoming and all that entails.

this is me trying by Taylor Swift

They told me all of my cages were mental, so I got wasted like all my potential, and my words shoot to kill when I'm mad, I have a lot of regrets about that

I wrote something...very sad but also soft recently??? and this is for That it’s about pre-CW Pepperony being separated and the road to them trying to come back together including Tony working on himself and I love it!!! It hurts really good!!! This whole song is perfect for it and I can’t wait until people get to read it.

Be Good When I’m Gone by Four Year Strong

I'm sorry I can't stop to listen, but I've got so much to do and I've got some place to be, the house looks like the aftermath of a hurricane, I hope it stays that way

Tony being a busy parent but doing his best to make time for Peter in his life and making that time count has been something super important to illustrate to us, especially the transition from being a CEO to being a superhero and how that changes how Peter sees Tony’s absence over time.

I Won’t Back Down by Johnnyswim, Drew Holcomb & The Neighbors, and Penny and Sparrow

Tony puts on the original version by Tom Petty in Home Is Where The Heart Is, but I think this cover has a very slow, emotional undertone that’s really great too. The interludes, if you didn’t catch it, have all been featured in a fic previously.

Let It Matter by Johnnyswim

So if it matters let it matter, if your heart's breaking let it ache, catch those pieces as they scatter, know your hurt is not in vain

Pepper in Never Tell Me The Odds ALL DAYYYYY. She’s the emotional rock of that fic (and of our Ironfam TBH) and it’s all because she allows herself to feel her feelings and encourages the Stark boys to do so as well.

Simmer - Acoustic by Hayley Williams

And if my child, needed protection, from a fucker like that man, I’d sooner gut him, cause nothing cuts like a mother

Post-Home Is Where The Heart Is...y’all know Pepper’s not that mad about what happened to Obie. Also just Pepper when someone hurts her family?? I always write it as her sort of putting all of her emotion into something she can control and doing it well, so, this song is all about that.

Tightrope by Nia Hendricks

one step after another, keep holding on to each other, don’t look back, move on and let go, that’s how you walk on a tightrope

Pepperony trying to navigate their relationship and the insanity of superhero stuff and also co-parenting. It’s all excellent, I love them so much, I enjoy writing it so much!!!!

Dancing With Your Ghost by Sasha Sloan

Never got the chance, to say a last goodbye, I gotta move on, but it hurts to try, how do I love, how do I love again?

This song is tilted towards romance, but if you’ll remember, we’re a Pro-Tony Survives Endgame AU series, so it’s not about THAT...but well...Infinity War sure will hit something fierce for certain non-romantic relationships in this series, huh?

The Bones by Maren Morris

Call it dumb luck, but baby, you and I, can't even mess it up, although we both try, no, it don't always go the way we planned it, but the wolves came and went and we're still standing

Post-Endgame Ironfam!!! Tony and Pepper married with their kids, their family and HAPPY...THIS IS WHY WE DO ALL OF THE ANGST...FOR A FAMILY...WE LOVE THEM

Carry on Wayward Son by Kansas

Considered Pepper and Peter’s ‘song’, as it’s referenced multiple times in the series, and was one of the bigger solidifying moments of their mother-son relationship as a whole.

Mundane by Hardcastle

And I’ve been sinking into silence, dwelling on my thoughts, and in these months, I haven’t felt that most conversations have left me anything but blue

Peter’s selective mutism was something very special to us when we originally had the idea, and making sure we talk about it and utilize it in the right way is something we’re still working on, particularly with the Therapy Fic we’re brainstorming atm.

survivin’ (One Eyed Jack’s Session) by Bastille

What can I say? I'm survivin', crawling out these sheets to see another day, what can I say? I'm survivin', and I'm gonna be fine, I'm gonna be fine, I think I'll be fine

Spoiler Alert: Peter’s not fine, like, a decent amount of the time. But he’s sure trying, and we love him for that.

Jacob from the Bible by Jake Wesley Rogers

Mama, don't worry, it took me years, to say I'm sorry, to see your tears, Mama, forgive me, I grew up too fast, but it's not on you, it's in the past

Mostly part of Peter growing up to become a hero and realizing what his parents--particularly Pepper--have gone through for him to become the person he is today, but that sometimes he still doesn’t feel like he’s making them proud enough.

Compassion Is a German Word by To Kill A King

Don't be so arrogant, you ain't no different to anyone I've met, we're all the heroes in our own film, or maybe the villain in someone else's

Spider-Man being an excellent superhero boi!!! Being kind and good!!! We love it!! Also, I put a TKAK song on...a LOT of my playlists, because I think they’re great.

brutal by Olivia Rodrigo

And I'm so sick of seventeen, where's my fucking teenage dream?, if someone tells me one more time, "Enjoy your youth", I'm gonna cry

I mean...this song is such a Teenage Mood...I had to do it...

In The Wee Small Hours Of The Morning by Frank Sinatra

So, I had this cute little scene in my head that went with this song for SO LONG but there wasn’t really anything for it to fit into so...yeah that’s part 2 of Savannah’s Birthday Gift, a little soft Baby Peter drabble. Fluffy Goop from top to bottom. That can be read here.

Home by Phillip Phillips

Just know you're not alone, 'Cause I'm gonna make this place your home

...I know it’s not original, okay? It’s found family, it’s great, I don’t care!

Comes and Goes (In Waves) by Greg Laswell

And this part was for her, and this part was for her, this part was for her, does she remember?

This song is good family angst in general BUT these specific lyrics made me think of Mary and that they never forget her in their lives despite the other stuff going on (because we refuse to let them).

I Have Made Mistakes by The Oh Hellos

I have made mistakes, I continue to make them, the promises I've made, I continue to break them, and all the doubts I've faced, I continue to face them, but nothing is a waste if you learn from it

No one in the Ironfam is perfect, but they all do their best to try and grow even when they’re scared they’ll never be able to. The ups and downs are all par for the course of this series to us.

Easy Days - Demo by Bastille

Cause I don’t wanna fall back again, back into the easy days, everything was so simple then, little fires burned away

Strife is a part of life, and the family in this fic growing through their loss and struggles and moving ahead as a unit to get to a better place is super central to making the fic what it is...but it’s easy for them to remember the old days before being superheroes and wishing it was simple again.

North by Sleeping At Last

Let the years we’re here be kind, be kind, let our hearts like doors open wide, open wide, settle our bones like wood over time, over time, give us bread, give us salt, give us wine

The way Tony went from feeling so alone to having an entire built family that’s so full of love and everything he never dreamed of...*screams into my pillow* I love this series so much thank you and good night!!!

#made of iron born of fire #irondad #ironfam #fanmix #savvysass #this series just makes me burst with content i can't describe it #also doing the graphics was a fun experiment!!!#mine #mine: marvel

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