#anyways this is my silent plea to any who might be interested check out my twitter where sometimes i write nonsense like this in between

[gentil-minou]

When I was deep in a feverish haze all I could think about was Wei Wuxian's first illness post golden core transfer because cultivators never get sick so when wwx does for the first time he's absolutely awful at it.

Like he's walking around lotus pier trying to pretend he's fine but he's stumbling into walls and almost walks off the deck into the lake at some point. And of course everyone just thinks he's drunk or something cause cultivators don't get sick and wwx goes with it and laughs it all off, pretending he's hungover and absolutely fine, until he ends up shivering in bed until shijie brings him soup with a concerned look in her eyes he refuses to acknowledge.

When he gets better he cracks jokes and pretends it was nothing and hides his lingering cough in his sleeve.

With the Wens it's only a little bit better bc they do know about his core and Wen Qing is a doctor and can help him, but you see wwx can't lie down and rest how can he when there's so much he has to do?

He works as hard as he can, making sure to lift everything for granny even though his body aches and using all his energy to keep A-Yuan happy and distracted, in between moments of clearing resentment, all until he passes out in the middle of an empty path with no one around to see him fall.

Eventually Wen Ning finds him and carries him back wei wuxian wakes up to Wen Qing forcing some awful broth made of scraps of meat and yelling at him to go to sleep and rest. But of course the moment they're all asleep for the night he goes back to work. He can't rest there's no time, even as his head pounds and his body screams and the sickness eats away at his insides as the resentment does the same. There's no time for rest.

Post canon the first time Wei Wuxian gets sick he falls into a old habits and doesn't tell anyone, just continues puttering about and acting fine, distracting the juniors during their lessons and hanging off Lan Zhan's shoulders to tease him while he works.

But of course Lan Wangji notices the way his husband sways more than just with his usual dramatic swagger, and how he keeps shoving his favorite foods away saying he's not hungry as he rubs at his throat.

The final straw is when Wei Wuxian says he's too tired for their everyday but then plays it off as a joke at the look of concern Lan Zhan gives himso they do it anyways. And even tho Lan Zhan is tender and slow tonight Wei Wuxian still passes out from shear exhaustion before either have even finished

Lan Wangji has a moment of panic, thinking he broke his husband but then connects the dots...

When wwx wakes up he's smothered by their warmest blankets and wearing lwj's softest underrobe (because when A-Yuan was sick he liked to wear the robe too for the comforting smell and warmth). He looks around groggy and half asleep calling for his Lan Zhan, feeling bereft and confused.

He's about to get up and find him himself, even though the thought of getting up makes him feel dizzy when lwj comes back and glides to wwx's side with a bowl of congee that has just a hint of red in it. Wei Wuxian teases him about "there must be a rule about breakfast in bed Lan Zhan" and tries to get to his feet, but Lan Wangji pushes him down gently murmuring, "Rest, Wei Ying."

And suddenly its like the Jingshi has melted away replaced with the jagged stone walls of a familiar cave because Wei Wuxian you see he can't rest, there's things to do and people need him and he has to be strong he can't just rest he isn't allowed and what about the Wens he needs to get up he cant just lie here he needs to save them and he cant breathe and his head is going in awful circles and it feels like something is clawing its way out of him and he has to go do something and fix something, until Lan Wangji pulls him onto his lap and starts humming their song as he rubs soothing circles along wwx's back. And even though wwx's breaths are still coming out in terrified waves as his eyes dart around for some unseen threat, despite it all he starts to relax little by little to the sound of his Lan Zhan’s familiar baritone.

When he finally calms down enough he realizes he's been crying, blubbering like a baby leaving disgusting snot stains in the illustrious Hanguang-jun's robes and he tries to wipe them them away before Lan Zhan sees but lwj just holds his face between two hands with the most softesr care, his expression open and honest in a way it only ever is for Wei Ying, and he just keeps humming nonsense and nursery rhymes as he kisses wwx's tear tracks away. And tho wwx still can't stop crying lwj doesn't say anything, doesn't chide or lecture or tell him anything, just holds wwx and lets the smell of sandalwood wrap a comforting and warm embrace around wwx.

Eventually wwx does drift off and he comes to still huddled against lwj's chest, a lovely spot of drool right over his husband's brand and heart, as he reads a book about dual cultivation. It's past midday now and wwx asks about Lan Zhan's duties, fiddling with the edge of his forehead ribbon.

But Lan Wangji simply says, "Wei Ying is most important" and kisses his forehead and goes back to his book.

And Wei Wuxian burrows back into his husbands chest as if he tried hard enough he could carve a hole and bury himself besides Lan Zhan's heart forever, and pretends the flush he feels is from the fever.

They spend the next 2 days like that, with lwj guiding wwx back down to rest whenever the anxiety tries to make him feel bad and then comforting him through it all, kindly never pointing out the way every so often tears start to fall silently down wwx's face when he gets to thinking too much and even more kindly not pointing out the awful inelegant sound of wwx's honking wet coughs.

At some point Sizhui even visits, bringing an attempt at lotus rib soup using what Wen Ning remembers. It's not quite the same but it's more than enough and finally Wei Wuxian feels his shivers subside completely.

When Wei Wuxian wakes up on the 3rd day, well rested in a way he's never felt after being ill, he immediately jumps his husband and smothers his face in exuberant kisses that make Lan Wangji smile his special Wei Ying smile.

And although no one says anything Wei Wuxian knows deep within his gifted bones that from now on whenever he falls ill, there will always be someone to catch him.

(Orignally a threadfic here)

#do i find it funny that when i shouldve been resting instead i was writing a threadfic about how sick wwx should be resting? #not at all #do as i say not as i do #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #Wei Wuxian #wangxian #mdzs fanfiction #bushy writing #i might clean this up and add things to make it into a real fic im not sure yet #also i kinda like the fun of threadfics even though no one reads them because twitter is a broken app thats impossible for new writere to #get any sort of recognition or engagement unless they pay to be verified #its what ive learned and frankly very discouraging as someone who has a lot of ideas and really wants to share them with this fandom #i had way too many when i was sick and shared a bunch on twitter since i wasnt allowing myself to do actual writing #but i kinda like the rawness of threafics #its a fun way to just share a rough unpolished idea #anyways this is my silent plea to any who might be interested check out my twitter where sometimes i write nonsense like this in between #spam retweeting a bunch of pretty fanart

[soulmate-game]

Harley's Plea for Help ch. 6

Ch1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5 Ch6-- you are here

Yet another night of barely any sleep, but this time Marinette didn’t have the coffee-angel Red Robin at her rescue. No, instead she had to go completely uncaffeinated until she and her class got to Wayne Enterprises. Madame Mendelieve could only sigh as she watched Marinette scamper off to the café as soon as they made it past the initial security of the building. A couple of her classmates chuckled or snorted at her familiar behavior.

It was the same barista at the register as before, but this time Marinette felt too tired to properly order or be adventurous in looking for new flavors.

“I feel like death. I don’t care if it tastes like pure bean oil today. Flavors will take away from the amount of coffee you can shove in one cup, right?”

The poor barista blinked, eyeing the deep bags forming under the poor girl’s eyes. She sighed. “I had hope yesterday that you were just a normal caffeine addict. Now I see we actually have a second Mister Drake,” she said it as if she was mourning at Marinette’s grave before poking a few buttons on her touchscreen order station and turning her head. “One Insomniac CEO, but not for the boss!” She called out. The barista making the drinks paused for a second with wide eyes.

“We have another one?!” He asked, shocked. “Piece of advice?” He turned to Marinette. “Get some sleep.”

“Sleep is for the dead,” Marinette deadpanned back. “I got stuff I need to do today.”

The guy just shook his head and sighed, making the drink as Marinette paid and left a good tip. The drink came out fairly quickly, and everyone behind the counter stopped for a moment to stare as she gulped down the hot drink with no concern for her tongue or throat. A satisfied sound left her as she finally pulled away from the cup.

“This is really good!” She complimented, turning to the Baristas with a still-tired smile. It would take a minute or two for the coffee to have full effect, but she already felt better. “A little too bitter for my usual tastes, but perfect for days like today. Thanks!” She waved at them before turning around and seeing that her class was already gone again. Before she could fully process that though, a hand slapped down onto her head and ruffled her hair.

Surprised (really, not a lot of people could sneak up on her anymore. Just how tired was she?) she let out a high pitched squeal.

“You’re a good kid,” the soft, slightly scratchy voice that said that made Marinette’s shoulders drop and eyes widen. Tilting her head back she was greeted with the widely-grinning face of Jason Todd. He was once again in the uniform of a security guard.

“Wha— Uh,” Marinette couldn’t quite find the right words right away. She was too stunned. Jason just chuckled, jerking his head to indicate the same door her class had gone through the day before and leading the way over there. Marinette scrambled to catch up.

Once they were far away enough from prying eyes and ears, Marinette cleared her throat.

“Um,” she started. “Did… I mean, do you..?”

“Yeah, our mutual friends had a chat with me last night,” he confirmed casually. He sent her a meaningful look even though his grin never left his face. “Like I said; you’re a good kid. And I’m not goin’ anywhere. You’re not responsible for the things your parents have done, you know.”

The girl at his side hummed noncommittally, not fully convinced but also not wanting to argue.

“You’re not,” he repeated firmly, stopping in the middle of the side-hallway. They could see her class at the other end getting checked in, but didn’t make a move to join them yet. “I mean it. The stuff that happened to me, none of that was you. Hell, you were a little kid back then. And there’s nothing you could have done to stop it, either. I’m not gonna hold anything against you just because you’re his child. You didn’t ask to be,” he shrugged. “Besides, I get it. Biological relation doesn’t equal family. Trust me,” his grin was gone and a tired one replaced it. “I know that better than most people.”

The pigtailed girl could only gulp, taking a deep breath as she forced down the tears that wanted to bubble up. She had had this conversation with Adrien a few times, but even then she had been convinced that he just didn’t understand. He was just being nice. But this— Jason’s words were more valuable than gold to her. He had no reason to be nice, so it had to be at least partially sincere.

“Thanks,” she whispered once she was positive she wasn’t going to break. She lifted her cup up and took a long sip of her coffee. The slight burn against her tongue helped ground her. “That means more than you know.”

Jason chuckled. “Nah. The fact that you stood up for me to the Bat,” his grin returned to his face full blast, making dimples appear on his cheeks. “Now that, you have no idea how much that means to me. You must have some serious guts to lecture that guy, too. Is it too late to adopt you for myself?”

That tore a quick laugh out of her, making her classmate’s head whip over to the opposite end of the hallway where she and Jason were. She quickly quieted herself, but her eyes danced with amusement as she looked up at Jason. “You’re too young to be my parent anyway, but I wouldn’t say no to a brother,” she joked. Jason’s eyes sparkled.

“Good, exactly what I was aiming for!” He slipped a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to her. “That’s my number. Call me if you ever need anything, got it?” He turned to resume leading her back to her class and she quickly slipped the paper into her pocket before anyone saw and got the wrong idea. “And I mean anything.”

Marinette just smiled and nodded. By then, they were close enough for Alya to smirk and ask; “What took ya so long, girl?”

“Oh,” Marinette shuffled a little on her feet before an observation gave her a last minute idea and she straightened up with a wide smile. “We just got distracted talking about motorcycles!”

Jason’s eyebrows raised for a quick second before he settled his expression again and played along. He had figured that not many people knew about her biological family. That part made sense. But she had been a total mess just the day before when she had tried to lie about Paris’ little villain problem in front of Bruce. How was she able to actually come up with a good lie this time around, when she had been just as much put on the spot? He wondered to himself about what was different about this situation to allow her to lie more easily. Maybe Bruce not being there was part of it— she seemed easily flustered by famous people.

Think of the devil, because no sooner had that thought finished developing in Jason’s mind before Bruce Wayne walked into the hallway with a paparazzi-ready smile. Jason rolled his eyes and sunk to the back of the group silently, sinking back into his job and keeping an eye on their surroundings. He listened as Alya laughed softly and elbowed Marinette even as the group turned their attention to Bruce.

“You and your bikes,” Alya teased. “If someone knew enough about motorcycles, I bet you’d marry them on the spot.”

“Nah,” Marinette whispered back. “If they gave me a really nice one though? That’s marriage potential for sure.”

The two girls laughed for a second before focusing back on the tour. Adrien wasted no time making his way to Marinette’s side, silent questions in his eyes. Jason watched with interest as the two seemed to silently communicate with one another. It was obvious that Adrien was calling her lie, and Marinette was essentially silently telling him that she would explain later. It was so seamless and subtle that if Jason hadn’t been extremely familiar with that kind of communication already, he wouldn’t have noticed it. Once again his eyebrows rose a tick on his forehead, and he made a mental note of the interaction. That kind of silent conversation wasn’t an easy thing to do with people. It was most commonly seen in married or otherwise long-term couples, childhood friends, family, or hero partners. The childhood friends and family sections were already ruled out from their background check on her and Harley herself had mentioned that even though Marinette had once crushed on Adrien, she had unofficially adopted the boy as her brother since then. Though, their time as close friends was only documented as having lasted about a year. That wasn’t quite enough time for that sort of effortless silent communication to be possible.

Of course, Jason had his suspicions already. But there was no rush, either. The Clown was on the move and more important to focus on for now. He could focus on the puzzle that was Marinette and Adrien later.

Bruce took over the tour as he had the day before, and the class was instantly riveted once again. If the fact that they were being led through the building by the very man who owned it wasn’t awesome enough to get everyone’s full attention, the man’s personality was. He came off a little carefree and very kind, but there was an obvious undercurrent of just how much he loved his company that showed that he did take it and his job seriously. Just, not too seriously either. And he interjected everywhere he could with personal stories and anecdotes and little bits of his family history that the normal tour guides might not have known. It was not long after he announced that he was going to take them to a lower lab set aside specifically for their class’ tour, so that they could do their first interactive activity, that jason found the opportunity to sidle up next to Marinette on the opposite side from where Adrien walked alongside her.

“So,” he said casually. “How’d you know I ride a motorcycle?” he smirked to show he wasn’t upset as he looked down at her curiously. Marinette blinked, taking her attention away from Bruce to look over at Jason. Once his words registered, she smiled widely and pointed to one of his pockets. The corners of his bike gloves flopped over the edge.

“I noticed those. I figured you’d have a negative reaction that might give us away if my lie was too off the mark, and I do have a habit of saying stupid things if I don’t have a clue or something to play off of. I also had to make it believable for the class, and they all know that my Nonna has played a huge part in my love for motorcycles. I plan on getting a license to drive one when I turn sixteen later this year,” she told him softly. “I tend to gush whenever I see a cool bike, so I knew they wouldn’t question it.”

Jason huffed a little bit of laughter under his breath. It was like the trope of a character looking at random items in the room to come up with a fake name, but somehow it had actually worked for her. She was quick-witted and clever, he had to admit. And observant.

“I was running late, so I must have left them in my pocket when I was changing,” he admitted, unbothered. “Ah, here we are,” he nodded to return the two teen’s (he had noticed Adrien paying close attention as he and Marinette had their conversation) attention back to the tour. Bruce opened the door for the class with a flourish, gesturing for everyone to go in.

“Since these first few days are going to be tours and lessons about working in general, your first activity of your trip is to solve various problems we’ve given you based on real situations that WE employees have been in before. Split up into groups, and choose a table. Each table has a different problem covering a different industry. Reporting, Science— specifically research and development, business management, and entertainment…”

—*—*—*—*—*

“It’s straight,” Adrien assured her, trying to keep himself from laughing as Marinette straightened his tie for the millionth time. “I promise. And you look fantastic.”

Marinette stepped back, nodding at Adrien’s appearance in approval. “I know. We both look great, but…” she fidgeted and then stepped forward to go right back to over-straightening his tie. Adrien snorted, grabbing her hands before she could touch the poor thing again and lowering her arms to her sides.

“Calm down. Like you said, we both look great. You don’t have a single hair out of place, the outfits you made us look amazing, and my tie is at a perfect ninety degree angle to my collar. Take the model’s word for it,” he teased with a lopsided grin. “We look ready for the front cover of a magazine. So just take a deep breath, because we should get down to the lobby soon to wait for the ride he’s sending for us.”

“Right,” Marinette nodded. She followed his advice and took a deep breath. Once she was suitably calmed, she opened her eyes and nodded at him. Adrien smiled and held out his arm, making Marinette snort as she took hold of it gently and let him lead her to the elevator.

Bruce had not specified whether the dinner was going to be casual or formal, but with the fact that his kids were going to be present and it was at his own house, Marinette had a feeling it was going to be more of a casual thing than if they had went out to a fancy restaurant with a black tie dress code. At the same time, this was the Wayne manor they were talking about. She didn’t want to be underdressed, either. Not to mention that it was her design skills that had played a huge part in her winning the contest in the first place, so she felt like she had to show her work again to prove that they had chosen the right person.

A playful wolf whistle greeted the two of them when they got down to the lobby. Alya was, to no one’s surprise, the perpetrator. She stood in the lobby with Alix, Nino, and Max, who all had known about the dinner and agreed to be there to see the two of them off and put Marinette’s worries to rest. The four of them jogged over, Alix smiling and adding her own soft whistle of appreciation.

“You guys look great,” the short skater assured them, taking the time to skate slow circles around them to make sure that nothing was wrong with their outfits. “I think you’ve outdone yourself, Mari! Very cool.”

Alya nodded eagerly, bouncing in place with a wide, beaming smile on her face. “Ah! The both of you look ready to kick ass and woo rich people!” she added. Max pushed his glasses up on his nose with a small grin.

“There is a ninety-five percent chance of your work impressing all of the Waynes,” he said in his own version of encouragement.

“You guys got this!” Nino shot them a thumbs up. “They beat me to all the stuff I wanted to say.”

Marinette beamed, laughing along with her friends as she allowed herself to relax a little. Adrien’s outfit was of her own making, a subtle way for him to rebel since his father had sent him with his own Gabriel brand suit should an appropriate opportunity to wear it come up. Adrien had no plans of ever putting his father’s suit on his body. In an effort to spice up formal men’s wear a bit without making the whole thing white and silver like Gabriel wanted, Marinette had made him a classic silk shirt in black, with short sleeves that fell at that perfect halfway point between his elbow and shoulder. The sleeves had thick cuffs in a dark forest green, with decorative straight stitches on the seams in a bright magenta pink thread. On top of that was a corset-style sleeveless vest with a deep V. The majority of the vest was the same black as the shirt, but with dark green hand-stitched swirls that were just barely bright enough to be contrasted against the black. It created a very subtle pattern that would be hard to see in the wrong lighting, but would make it look that much more expensive and elaborate in the right lighting. The lapel of the vest was in the same dark forest green as the cuffs of his shirt, with a few decorative swirls embroidered on the very corners. The piping of the corset-vest made three curved lines on either side of his waist, curling from mid-rib cage to his waist. It gave him a slightly more feminine twist to his outfit, making his waist look smaller even though it wasn’t actually pulled very tight on him— it was mostly the illusion made by the piping rather than the actual tightness of the garment. The two outside piping lines were done in a magenta pink, while the middle piping line was once again in dark forest green. Unlike most corset-style vests, this one had no buttons or zipper on the front at all. Instead, it was closed only by corset lacing in the back, the laces done in such a dark shade of green that it was almost black, while the eyelets that the laces were threaded through were that same magenta pink as the piping and decorative stitches elsewhere on the outfit. The tie that Marinette had spent so long making sure was straight was almost entirely soft lace, but it was layered in such a way with layers of sheer green and pink lace that it looked like it was a constant swirl of the two colors. If someone got close enough to see the pattern of the lace tie, they would notice that it was a pattern of cats chasing a butterfly.

Underneath the artistic top of the outfit were black dress pants, once again with thick forest-green cuffs on the bottoms. But instead of the decorative stitching, the pant legs flared a bit at the ankles for just a little extra drama. Magenta-pink Oxfords peeked out of the wide cuffs. The green detailing made Adrien’s eyes pop, while the pink accents gave his boyish charm a little more of a feminine touch that almost seemed to highlight his naturally sensitive and charming nature.

In contrast, Marinette wore a sleeveless pink pantsuit. It was the same shade as the pink accents in Adrien’s outfit, and had a built-in corset as well that went only around her natural waist. The corset boning on Marinette was a solid black, while the rest was just the same base pink as the majority of the suit. The black of the boning seemed to flow downwards, changing from boning into thick hand-embroidery in thread of the exact same black. The embroidery flowed down the sides of both legs, in the shape of tree branches and apple blossoms. Pale green accents in the form of swirls at her high neckline and a pale green lace capelet that was the only thing covering her shoulders helped tie her outfit in with Adrien’s. She also wore pale green low kitten heels and her black hair up in a braided bun. With how her pant legs were form-hugging until they flared out slightly at the heel, and the lack of sleeves exposed her toned arms and shoulders and emphasized her strength there without making her look unbalanced or too masculine for the rest of the outfit’s style, she looked ready to rock the business world. Her bright blue eyes clashed with the green details of the outfit just enough to bring attention to them, assuring that people who met her eyes would not be able to easily look away.

The quick snap of a phone’s flash went off, drawing everyone’s attention to Madame Bustier. She was beaming at all of them, and had just taken a picture of her two students all dressed up. She waved her phone happily. “I’m sending this picture to the both of you. I’m so proud of you guys!” she gushed.

Marinette and Adrien both blushed deep red, shifting in their spots. They were confident in their looks, and Adrien was just as proud of his pseudo-sister, but neither of them was very good at handling so much positive attention aimed only at them. Especially not from their extremely sincere friends and teacher.

“Miss Dupain-Cheng?” An older gentleman with a British accent turned everyone’s attention to him. The first thing Marinette thought was that he had kind eyes. He also had soft wisps of white hair on his head, carefully trimmed and slicked back. Of course, Marinette and Adrien also couldn’t miss the high quality and perfect press of his carefully maintained suit. Once he had shown all the proper credentials to Madame Bustier, he introduced himself to the two well-dressed teens with a shallow bow. “I am Alfred Pennyworth, the butler for Wayne Manor. I am to escort the both of you there for supper tonight.”

“Oh! Thank you so much, Monsieur Pennyworth,” Marinette said, walking up and shaking his hand. Adrien was right by her side the whole time, matching her smile watt for watt and shaking Alfred’s hand with just as much enthusiasm.

“Yeah, thank you for having us over. I know it was technically Bruce who invited Marinette, but you’re probably the one that has to do all the work. So, thank you. We really appreciate it,” he told the man sincerely. Alfred’s answering smile was soft, almost fond.

“Yes, I admit I am in charge of most of the work for tonight. But you shouldn’t worry, it’s no different from any other day at the manor,” he said lightheartedly, a little bit of good natured snark shining through his otherwise proper behavior— “Every last one of the Waynes would die in less than a week without me to keep everything in order,” he joked. “Allow me to lead you to the car.”

Marinette and Adrien followed behind Alfred. She didn’t know if it was the calming aura he put off, or if it was the gentle way his eyes sparkled that made her want to look after him. But whatever it was, she found herself wanting to protect this kind old man already. Which is why her eyebrows slightly pinched together. Before climbing inside the luxurious town car he had brought for them, she couldn’t help but turn to Alfred and ask;

“I hope you aren’t overworked. I don’t want to overstep, Monsieur, but isn’t the Wayne family rather large for one person to look after on their own?”

Alfred laughed gently at that, his eyes once again softening. “Do not worry about me, Miss Dupain-Cheng. They are family to me. And though, yes, you are correct in assuming they are a handful, they are also wonderful people. They help me where they can, but taking care of themselves is not their forte. Being able to do that for them is my greatest joy.”

The wrinkles in Marinette’s brow smoothed out and she smiled. “That’s so sweet. You’re making me want to meet them all even more.”

Something about that twinkle in Alfred’s eye made her feel like he was laughing at some joke she didn’t hear. “I’m sure all of you will get along swimmingly.”

—*—*—*—*—*

“I FOUND HER FIRST!”

Alfred had barely opened the manor’s doors to let Marinette and Adrien inside before the chaos started. Or rather, before they were let in on it— it seemed as if the chaos had already been going on for a while.

Jason skidded across the floor in a mad dash, having to grasp the doorframe he was running out of so that he could turn the corner sharply and veer towards them.

“Tell them, Marinette! I found you first, you’re my sister now, don’t fall for any of their Jedi mind tricks!”

Marinette just blinked, a little caught off guard. It hadn’t exactly sunk into her head until right that moment that ‘Wayne Family dinner’ would include Jason. Her mind was still catching up to the fact that she was seeing him out of his security guard uniform for the first time. He wasn’t dressed up at all, in a well-loved brown leather jacket over a white shirt and dark wash jeans. He still had his motorcycle gloves on. Marinette looked down at first herself, then Adrien.

“Are we overdressed?” She asked with a grimace. Jason huffed.

“Of course not, you guys look amazing! But seriously, tell them that I claimed you as my sister first and none of them are half as cool as me.”

Marinette and Adrien traded glances before laughing together.

“If we’re being technical here,” Adrien drawled mischievously as he straightened out his vest. “I met Marinette first, and she adopted me as her brother long before we met any of you,” he pointed out with a sharp grin.

“Ha!” a younger man laughed pointedly, following after Jason. The newcomer was dressed more formally, in a dress shirt under a very luxurious looking burgundy designer sweater. Under that, he wore black perfectly-pressed slacks and nondescript oxfords. His collar showed signs of housing a tie earlier, but he had clearly taken it off sometime earlier. His hair hung slightly long, framing his face with two long locks while the back of his hair slightly stuck up in all directions in natural tufted curls. Like Jason, his hair was jet black and he had bright blue eyes. He was also about half Jason’s size, much shorter and leaner than his adoptive brother. “He’s got you there, idiot,” he snarked smugly at Jason before turning to the two guests. “Miss Dupain-Cheng, Mister Agreste. I’m Tim Drake-Wayne, it’s nice to finally meet both of you,” he introduced himself as he walked over to shake their hands. “And your outfits are amazing! Did you make them, Miss Dupain-Cheng?”

“Marinette,” she corrected with a lopsided grin. “My last name is a mouthful, and I prefer to just go by Marinette anyway. And yes, I made both of these outfits before we left Paris,” she admitted, trying her best to seem professional. She had already ruined her chances of that with Bruce and Jason, but this time she was prepared!

“They are just as impressive as the rest of your work that I’ve seen. And call me Tim, it’s only fair,” and then he smiled.

Damn his boyish grin. He wasn’t someone Marinette had a crush on— he wasn’t her type— but damn he was unfairly charismatic and charming. His smile temporarily short circuited her brain. That was exactly the kind of boyish smile that had started her crush on Adrien, and that she was unfairly weak for. Now she felt a deep-seated urge to protect this boy and his smile or so help her, someone would be sent to the ER if he was hurt and it wasn’t gonna be her. And she didn’t try to dissuade herself from that strong protective urge, her mother had already assured her that all the Waynes were trustworthy and that Tim in particular shared a lot of her bad habits. She could allow this little bit of vulnerability. Hopefully.

“... I’ve only known you for two minutes, but if anything happened to you I would kill everyone in this room and then myself,” she breathed. Adrien elbowed her hard, making her yelp.

“You said that out loud Mari,” he deadpanned. A deep flush immediately came over her face, and she covered her mouth with both hands.

“Oh shit. I’m so sorry— but you— just forget I said anything. Please!”

Tim was visibly shocked, his eyes wide and mouth agape. Jason snorted, overcoming his own brief moment of shock pretty easily.

“Careful there,” Jason chided good-heartedly. His gaze met Marinette’s with a slight weight in it though. “You barely know the guy. He’ll annoy you out of your mind soon enough.”

Marinette caught the hint, wincing and changing the subject. Jason could see that she had done exactly as her mother had warned— she had gotten attached to Tim almost immediately. And while he wanted to believe Marinette when she said that the same wouldn’t happen with Joker, that she was not going to repeat her mother’s mistakes…

He couldn’t help but worry. Joker was a slippery bastard, and good at getting past people’s defenses.

Tim eventually led them all to the dining room, where several people were already sat waiting for them.

“We decided it would be best if we didn’t all swarm you at the door,” Tim explained, grinning at her kindly. “Take a seat wherever you want, Alfred is probably going to be done with dinner soon.”

Marinette and Adrien both nodded, going to sit by each other’s side. Adrien put his hand on her knee when they sat down, and traded a meaningful look with her.

“Calm down,” he whispered. “We’re not in Paris. And if you slip, I’ll catch you. Promise.”

Marinette’s shoulders relaxed a little. Yeah, she could trust Adrien to make sure she didn’t slip up too much. Get too careless. He’d watch her back like she did for him. She’d be okay. They’d both be okay.

“Thanks, Adrien. I needed that.”

—*—*—*—*—*

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[darker-soft-starker]

 Starker High School AU, Pt. 4 (Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.5)

---

The last bell of the day sounds and Peter doesn’t know if he’s thankful or reproachful.

On one hand, no more classes. 

On the other: giving up an afternoon of Robotics to spend time with the modern embodiment of the antichrist.

To add insult to injury, it had been one of those long, arduous days that never seemed to end. The hours stretched themselves into impossibly bloated milliseconds as he watched the clock - and it still wasn’t over.

Dread filled him in anticipation of the afternoon and before first period he accidentally smacked himself in the forehead trying to get his locker open. It hurt and he was sure it would bruise. But if he was looking for sympathy, there was none to be found. Bucky and Nat weren’t speaking and in result their friends seemed wary and divided amongst themselves. 

It made for a rather awkward day.

His efforts to be neutral ground and to bridge the gap were met with vexation and were brushed off, so he ate lunch alone again in the library Bucky and Nat were fiery and fiercely independent, so not unexpected, but it was in his nature to want to mend the rift.

Ben used to tell him not everything was up to Peter to fix.

Easy for him to say.

Nonetheless he does his best to keep that notion in mind as he goes through the day, but everything seems off kilter. No one is talking to each other, he was so busy and caught up with all of the internal discord and schoolwork that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. 

And May was acting super weird this morning. 

Worry gnawed at him in a way that had him forgetting about eating, whether it was about May and Thursday’s match, about the giant pimple that bloomed on his chin overnight -- or whatever inevitable torment that Stark had cooked up for them this afternoon.

It’s still a few minutes before they’re due to meet but Peter isn’t dragging his feet.

He isn’t. 

Sure, the hallways are vacant of any other students. 

And maybe he is feeling just a little petty for the time Tony kept him waiting despite his own plea not to -- besides, he still has a couple of minutes before he’s due, he’s not going to turn up early for goodness sake, as much as the part of him that says if you’re not early you’re late begs him to quicken his footsteps. 

Maybe he does stretch it to the last minute just to see Tony looking frustrated by his vintage ‘69 Mustang, the line of his mouth unmistakably displeased as the cars in the lot around him gradually disperse.

He knows the moment that Tony notices him, leant against his car, sunglasses slipping down his nose to properly glower at him. 

“This is why you’re an asshole,” Tony points a finger at him as he arrives. “I should leave you here.”

“Sorry,” Peter apologises airily, “I was trying to be anywhere but here. I’m not late though, so?”

Tony rounds the car to the drivers side, still pointing at Peter. “Don’t push your luck, Parker. Get in.”

Snickering quietly to himself, Peter heads to the other side. 

The engine growls loudly, a deep rumbling that goes through Peter’s entire body. Buckling himself in quickly, he peers around curiously while Tony reverses out of the lot. He’s reluctantly surprised. For an old car that belongs to a teenager behind at least two school fires it’s in impeccable condition. 

“Nice car,” he says quietly, mostly to himself as his gaze roams the interior with interest. 

It’s difficult to associate Tony Stark with the words nice or neat even, but that’s exactly what the car is. The interior is unscuffed, squeaky clean, the leather seats are comfortable, not a sprinkle of cigarette ash to be seen.

It really is spectacular - when the engine roars and the seats vibrate under him, Peter gets a sense of wonder and curiosity, like that one time he fell in love with DeLoreans after watching Back To The Future with Ben.

Curious, he opens the glove compartment and finds a generous stash of snacks and chocolate bars inside.

“Don’t touch anything,” Tony scowls, smacking Peter’s hands from the dash. “That’s rule number one. The interior is original and my girl is sensitive to your residue.”

Residue, he scoffs, tempted to reach out and touch more just to be contrarian.

“You got a sweet tooth or somethin’?” Peter asks instead, gesturing to the glove compartment. 

“No.”

“Can I have some?”

“No.”

“Are you gonna say anything else to me on this trip?”

“No,” Tony smiles sardonically, turning up the radio louder until the riffs of Queen’s Somebody To Love drown them both out.

True to his word, Tony remains silent over the course of the drive. It suits Peter fine, it’s not a quiet that is uncomfortable or awkward, not with the radio playing loudly from an oldies station, the wind whistling through the windows and the echoes of traffic around them. 

He thought it might be a stiff and uncomfortable drive, however the longer nothing goes unsaid between them, the more Peter feels himself relax in his chair, warmed by the heater and his limbs loosening until they feel boneless after the day he’s had.

And to his credit, Tony doesn’t appear overly tense or uneasy in having Peter in his space - in fact, he looks as chilled out as Peter has ever seen him. 

The perpetual strain around his jaw and shoulders seems eased, his posture open and casual as he drives with one hand, shifting gears with the other, sometimes tapping out a tune on the steering wheel. And whenever a song he particularly likes comes on the radio he turns up the volume, and if Peter looks over at the right moment he sees him smile privately to himself, a pleased little quirk of his lips.

Sometimes Tony speeds and puts his fingers out the window to card them through the wind, and his smile grows.

Although the amicable vibe has little to do with him, it’s probably the first time that they’ve spent more than five minutes together without hurling insults at each other. 

It’s weird.

Too wary of shattering the peace, Peter doesn’t mention it.

By the time they’re on the Queensboro Bridge the Eurythmics are playing one of May’s favorite songs. Without realising he’s doing it, he’s bobbing his head along to the tune, whispering the words under his breath, suddenly reminded of dancing in the kitchen with her and Ben, nine years old, using wooden spoons as microphones.

He’s smiling before he can stop himself, head tilted back against the seat, eyes unfocused on the skyline. It smells like Tony’s cologne and engine oil, like being enveloped in an old memory. He can see Tony looking at him from the corner of his eye but neither of them say anything.

The volume is turned up.

---

They arrive at the realtor with just minutes to spare before their appointment is due to commence. 

The traffic had built incrementally during the drive to Long Island City, the roads becoming more congested as they went. The tension in Tony’s shoulders returned as the minutes ticked closer to four-thirty, his tapping on the steering wheel out of impatience rather than good-cheer. 

Peter actually does feel a little bad now. 

Not that the five minutes he could’ve spared would have made much of a difference, but still, guilt whispers vehemently. 

It’s for that reason that he politely doesn’t say anything that could be perceived as inflammatory when Tony pockets his sunglasses and buttons up his dress shirt, checking his reflection in the rear-view mirror. Even if he’s dying to tell him that he looks like a damn nerd.

Not that he can talk. 

Heeding Tony’s words, he’d dressed similarly in his okay-est pair of jeans, a clean shirt and a cardigan. In class, MJ laughed and told him he looked like Napoleon Dynamite.

They head in, a bell above the door signalling their arrival. It’s a chain realtor, not the one they rent their apartment through, but Peter thinks there is an office right near his building. Inside, a middle-aged woman at the front desk greets them.

“Uh... we have an appointment with Kate Price” Tony gestures between them. “Appointment for Tony Stark?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the woman apologises in a heavily Welsh accent, “you should have gotten a notification, she’s unwell and taken the day off.” 

“Oh, um --”

“That’s okay though, I’m free, I can help you if you’d like.”

“Are you sure?” Peter queries, sharing a look with Tony who appears just as uncertain. “We’d really appreciate it.”

“Absolutely. It’s quiet anyhow. Come,” she beckons them down a narrow hallway to a set of cubicles and L-shaped desks. There doesn’t seem to be anybody else in the office, he notes, as the two are directed to sit before a desk while the woman types away at a computer. 

“I’m Miranda,” she introduces herself, holding out her hand for both of them to shake. “The appointment notes say you’re after a nearby rental?”

“Sort of, we’re just looking at some pricing. Nothing serious, we just need to take some notes, get a feel for it.”

Miranda’s glasses slide down her nose as she observes them.

“You’re a wee bit young to be moving out of home, aren’t you?”

“Oh! No,” Peter stutters, waving his hands, “we’re not actually --”

Miranda waves at him dismissively. 

“Not that I can judge. My husband and I were living together and married by nineteen, ‘course he’s dead now. We had a good run though. Anyway, good for you. Young love, it’s so sweet.”

“Young what,” Peter says.

Miranda, typing away cheerily at her computer, clearly didn’t get the memo about the school project like Kate must have.

Peter turns to Tony, who is just as wide-eyed as he is.

What the fuck, he mouths, slinking down in his chair.

I don’t know, Tony mouths back, stupefied.

“So, what are we thinking - a studio if it’s just the two of you? Something cozy?”

“Uh, well, we’re looking to grow,” Tony says, hand slapped over his mouth. He shares a bewildered, wide-eyed stare with Peter.

“Right, well, nothing wrong with knowing what you want. What’s the budget? Let me see what I can find for you.”

“Ah,” Peter shifts in his seat, trying to communicate wordlessly with Tony as their research angle quickly becomes derailed.

He tries to communicate the need for an urgent exit in a stare that he hopes is prolonged and meaningful, but is only met with equally panicked blinking from the other boy. There’s a moment spent blinking undecipherable messages at each other and before he knows it the silence has stretched on far too long.

“Well, we were thinking sixteen-hundred a month. Right... Tony?”

“Right,” he nods slowly, eyes darting between the two. “Single income, see. Parker - uh, Peter is still in school.”

“Oh, bless,” she says spiritedly, typing away at her keyboard. “It’s not easy, I know, been there. What do you do for work, young man?”

“Me?” Tony asks, gesturing to himself, shooting Peter a desperate look. “I’m... a mechanic...apprentice.”

Peter has to disguise his snort with a cough, the horse so far out of the gate there is no catching up to it.

“Good for you, darling,” she says distractedly as she busies herself with the monitor, missing the heated glare Tony sends him. “Let’s see, might be tight, but we may have something for you. One bed, one bath, a living room that can be converted to a second bedroom.”

“Great,” Peter nods hesitantly. “Where?”

“Across the street, actually,” she swivels the monitor on its stand to show them a set of blurry photos of a small apartment. “And it’s currently vacant - we can do an inspection right now, if you’d like?”

There’s a pregnant pause.

“One moment,” Tony smiles at her, holding up a finger.

There’s a screech as Tony pulls Peter’s chair across the linoleum with a single hand.

“This is getting out of hand,” Peter whisper-hisses, ducking his head.

“I know, I know, I know,” Tony squeezes his eyes shut, making placating motions with his hands that do little to appease Peter’s rising apprehension. “It’s alright, it’s under control. Listen, hear me out, we go to the inspection, have a look at the place --”

“You can’t be serious, dude, we’re sixteen.”

“We’re not going to actually fill out an application, numbnuts, listen; we go, we take some pictures, get some details about the property, add it to our report and bam, who needs a reference? Think about it! Who else is going to have this level of detail in their report?”

“I’m not exactly sure this is what Miss Ahn meant by field research.”

Tony pokes him in the forehead. 

“Think outside the box, precious. Rise above the urge to do the bare minimum and we might just get a good grade.”

Peter sneaks a glance at Miranda. “Fine,” he pokes Tony back in the chest. “But you do all the talking, smartass.”

“Fine with me.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

Tony turns back to Miranda and offers her a charming smile. 

“We’d love to. Lead the way.”

---

They door sticks when Miranda turns the key into the dead-lock.

She struggles with it momentarily, smiling assuredly at the two boys as she twists the doorknob back and forth, pressing her shoulder against the peeling wood, forcing it open with a bang.

“Here we are,” Miranda announces brightly.

The two follow her inside, sharing a reluctant look with each other as she leads them into what must be a living room, the click-clack of her heels echoing off the scuffed floorboards and bare walls.

The first thing that Peter notices is that the room, while void of furniture, seems impossibly small, even by New York standards.

With the three of them spread thinly throughout it, there are but a few inches of space between them. Barely any room for a couple of armchairs, let alone a full sofa or a coffee table.

At a glance, he takes stock of the cracks in the ceiling, the discoloured patches in the plaster and the splintered wood of the front door frame where it appears it has been forced open from the outside. The chain-lock is broken.

Tony is over by the far corner, wiping a finger through a layer of dust on the window sill. 

There’s a loud bang from upstairs.

“So, this is the living area,” Miranda says with a flourish of her wrists. “And if you follow me, this down here,” she leads them around the corner, “is the kitchen.”

The kitchen is comprised of a small formica bench, a stained backsplash and several cupboards missing their handles.

While Miranda continues to point out and inform them all of the ‘cosy’ and ‘quaint’ features, Tony slips his phone from his pocket and with a nod of acceptance, lingers back a few steps to take photographs of the apartment. 

While he’s doing so, Peter busies himself by inspecting the kitchen, toying with the dials of the oven and the two-burner stove top, testing the swing of the cupboard doors. 

Inside one of them is a dirty tea-cup and a dead cockroach.

“-- and as you can see, plenty of room for a dining table, maybe you might like to have friends over --”

He follows them into the bathroom, which is just as compact as the rest of the apartment. He tests the faucet, noting that the tiles are cracked, as is the bathtub. 

Most worryingly are the speckled spots of black spores along the higher walls and the ceiling. 

“-- it’s a big old tub, plenty of room,” she pats Tony on the stomach, “could fit two in a squeeze if you suck it in, aye? Now, this way please boys, let me show you the pièce de résistance --”

Tony guards his stomach with his hands, pouting as Miranda leads them to the adjacent room.

“This is the main bedroom,” she beams, flicking on the light. “Perfect, isn’t it?”

The two young men stall in the doorway, peering inside. 

The space, probably equipped to handle a solitary king-single and a drawer at best, isn’t particularly generous by any means. The flickering bright yellow globe seems to only highlight the blistering wallpaper and the suspiciously stained carpet.

It smells like weed and cat pee. 

“So as you can see, plenty of privacy for you two, the living room can be converted into a second bedroom if need be -- or if one of you needs to sleep on the couch,” she winks at them.

“Right,” Tony says slowly, nudging the other with his elbow. “What do you think...honey?”

“I don’t know, dear,” Peter says, elbowing him back. “What do you think?”

“I think I just threw up in my mouth a little.”

“Bless,” Miranda cuts in, leaning on the doorframe while she observes them. “You’re just adorable, you must be high-school sweethearts.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“...Y-Yes,” Tony says after a moment, voice croaky. His hand snakes out to awkwardly pat Peter on the shoulder. “...we are.”

“So, what do you think?”

“About him?” Tony points to Peter.

“About the apartment,” she laughs. “What do you think, do you like it?”

“Oh, um, I have a few questions actually,” Peter mentions, following them back into the kitchen area, ignoring the odd look that Tony sends him. “If that’s okay?”

What are you doing, Tony mouths, back turned to the realtor as he clears his throat. 

Peter holds a finger up to request a minute. There’s a struggle to each convey their message silently, however, Tony reluctantly concedes, spreading his hands wide in a theatrical approval to proceed.

He paces the room, shuffling at the bubbling linoleum that he’d narrowly tripped on coming in, bending down to inspect it.

“Do you know how long the apartment’s been vacant?” He directs his question to the realtor.

“Oh, not long,” she replies vaguely, flipping through her file. “Couple of days or weeks, I think. I’d have to check.”

Peter nods, glancing between the three, standing. 

“Umm, I noticed that the oven doesn’t heat up. I thought that maybe the gas was turned off but the stove works? Also, um, in the living room there’s a section of floorboard that’s rotting with because there’s a water leak from the ceiling?”

Miranda’s smile freezes. “Oh, is there? That must be new.”

Peter wrings his hands together, glancing at Tony, stomach swooping at his own boldness. “And, uh, I noticed that the windows stick; the water pressure is funny, too?”

“I can get that checked --”

“There’s black mold in some of the rooms. I think because there isn’t temperature control, the windows are west-facing, so it must get pretty humid in the summer.” 

Peter looks to the other boy in what he hopes seems heartfelt. “I don’t mind, I only mention it because Tony’s... well, he’s got asthma.”

Tony coughs, catching on. 

“Yes, that’s right.”

Miranda’s posture crumples at that, her professional veneer instantly wiped from her face. 

“You’re right, this place is a dump,” she admits, kicking at the floor, spreading her arms out wide. “Look at it, it’s vile. I wouldn’t let my wretched old mother-in-law live here, the old bag. I’m sorry, boys.”

“Well, actually,” Peter says, gesturing between himself and Tony, stepping closer to him. “We’d be happy to do all the repairs and look the other way about the safety violations if there’s any wriggle room on the rent?”

Miranda flicks through the papers she’s holding, adjusting her glasses as she reads through it. The adjacent neighbors can be heard yelling through the thin walls.

“We do have a margin to drop it from sixteen-fifty to... fifteen-hundred a month for the right tenants. Not going to lie, the landlord is pretty desperate. Would you like an application?”

Tony clamps his hand on Peter’s shoulder, squeezing it. “We’ll think about it. Could we get all of those terms in writing, pretty please?”

Peter grins.

---

“I can’t tell if that was genius or crazy,” Tony says after they’ve departed ways with Miranda, headed back towards the Mustang on the other side of the road. “Seriously can’t say I expected that.”

The pair jog across the road once there is a gap in traffic.

After Ben passed, Peter and May moved twice. As a young child Peter saw another apartment as just that - another place to set down his duffle of second-hand clothes and thrift store toys. But May was smart. Savvy. She calls it the Parker Discount. 

Peter shrugs when they reach the car.

“Well, just because our report is meant to focus on budget against costs, doesn’t mean we can’t find ways to save money and maximise it. Not when you consider insurance, bills, food. It all adds up.”

“I’m still trying to pick my jaw up from the floor. Didn’t know you had that in you, Parker.”

“Yeah well, you don’t know anything about me,” Peter says to the ground, kicking at the pavement, “so.”

He tries not to squirm under the weight of Tony’s considering gaze, like a vice tight on the back of his neck. He feels the moment something shifts, as if a pin pricks the wall between them, easier to breathe.

“Look, whatever you think about me, I don’t care, but you probably couldn’t find a better partner for this project. I know more about this than you do.”

“Alright, no need to crow about it, I just said I was impressed. Don’t let it get to your head.”

Peter’s stomach growls loudly over the evening traffic before he can respond. 

“Sorry,” he says, cursing the timing of his body, “haven’t had anything since breakfast.”

Tony nods to a diner across the road.

“You wanna?”

“Oh,” he objects, worried about his bone-dry bank balance, “I’m not --”

“C’mon, dickweed, my treat. Don’t leave a guy hanging, it’s not polite.”

Tony waits patiently, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s sure it’s a look that many have fallen for. A crooked, wry smile and a self-confident air that one might confuse between charm and indolence. 

He feels out of his depth for once, and isn’t sure if he likes it. But his stomach growls again and he’s got nothing to lose except for his appetite. 

“Okay,” he says, nodding. “Sure.”

---

It’s the most surreal experience he’s ever had.

He pinches himself to believe that it’s real, that he’s dining out on a Tuesday evening in the boroughs with Tony Stark. The same guy he thought might murder him just last week.

He’s still not so sure that’s out of the question, to be honest. It would be the most normal thing about this entire day.

The silence is definitely awkward this time, sat at a table outside under a weather-protective canvass while they wait for their meal. A woman with a large doberman sits nearby, giving them odd looks every so often as she speaks loudly on her phone.

Peter’s nursing a giant glass of cola. The only sounds between them since they ordered have been the clinking of ice cubes from his glass and the sound of bubbles as he blew through the straw for a lack of better things to do.

From the daggers he’s getting from Tony, he’d wage that he’s annoying him - hence the probable murder - but he’s spared by their waitress returning with their meals.

A truly monstrous pile of fries is placed before Tony, along with a burger, a sundae and a milkshake. He takes off his dress shirt to reveal a black undershirt, as if in preparation to sweat through the meal.

Big meal for a big mouth, Peter thinks, as his own BLT is set before him. 

It’s weird.

Tony is weird.

This whole damn thing is weird.

“Don’t you think this is weird?” he asks, idly picking a seed from his crust and nibbling on it.

“Yeah,” Tony sighs. 

“I don’t like it.”

“Me neither. What was I thinking?”

“Dunno,” Peter says.

It’s quiet again after that. And it’s weird. Sitting down with over a civil meal with Stark or any of his cohorts wasn’t particularly on his bucket list for junior year, but here he was, picking at his crusts, dying to pee.

Tony takes three fries from the pile and dips them into his sundae, then the milkshake before eating them.

“Dude, gross.”

Tony looks at him oddly. “Uh, no it’s not. Have you never dipped your fries in ice cream before?”

“Is that a metaphor for sex?”

“What? No, you weirdo,” Tony shakes his head. “Are you serious? You’ve never -- god, that explains everything,” he slides his fries across the table a few inches. “Though it truly nauseates me to share with you, I can’t let this stand. Try it.”

“Ew, not after you’ve touched them --”

Tony slides his milkshake closer.

“Try it, butthole. You won’t totally hate it, promise. Well, you might, but if you do it’s just gonna confirm that your taste is garbage, which is what I already think about you. Anyway. C’mon, try it.”

Peter, while staring at Tony, begrudgingly accepting a fry from the peak of the pile and scooping it in ice cream from Tony’s sundae.  

He waits for the moment the combination of textures will make his stomach turn while he hesitantly chews, but instead is pleasantly surprised that the sweet salty flavours compliment one another so well.

“Not the worst, is it?” Tony grins knowingly, placing another fry in his mouth in the same manner. “I’m right, aren’t I? It’s good. Say it. I’m right.”

“It’s alright,” Peter says, stealing another fry to make sure. “Don’t let it go to your already inflated cranium.”

The self-satisfied smirk on Tony’s lips tells him it already has.

Quiet fills the space between them again, more charged than before in a manner that Peter can’t really describe. Like as if there was a soft buzz in the air, like he would get be struck with static electricity were he to touch it. 

Not keen on getting stung, he continues eating his sandwich.

Tony on the other hand, has other ideas.

“So, Peter Parker, now that I know you’re not a total dumbass, tell me this,” he takes a deep breath, his expression grim, “ -- do you wear glasses for the aesthetic or what?”

Peter stares at him.

“C’mon. Are you aiming for nerd chic? You shouldn’t, it’s very 2012.”

“Dude, no. I know glasses are like a thing or whatever but I actually do need them to see. I’m like, blind as fuck.” 

“How blind is blind as fuck?”

“Pretty blind.”

He takes off his glasses and twirls a finger in the direction the smudge of colour that he assumes is Tony.

“Can’t see you, like at all,” he squints. “You’re just a blur. Which is the best you’ve ever looked.”

Tony takes the glasses from his outstretched hand, and he has a hysterical moment where he thinks that Tony might go so low as to steal them, but is quickly realizes he’s just trying them on. He whistles before handing them back to Peter.

“Yup, those are prescription alright. The fuck? Why don’t you wear contacts?”

Peter shrugs, slipping his glasses back on. Stark comes back in perfect clarity. 

“They’re super expensive,” he’s alright with admitting to Tony at this point. “I have some I use for matches, or for special occasions, but I dunno, I’m used to glasses.”

“Do you have to clean them all the time?”

“Yes.”

In fact, there’s smudge from where Tony has inadvertently touched the lens.

“Have you ever stepped on your glasses accidentally?”

“Yep.”

He’s done it more than once but he’ll never forget the first time, how upset he was in the moment or how he fruitlessly tried to hide his face from Ben and May so they wouldn’t see the cracks in the lenses. He cried when they found out. 

That first time was just weeks after his parents had died, and he’d already been laden with thoughts of being a bother and a financial burden on the couple. They never stopped trying to prove that he wasn’t a hardship to care for. Sometimes, on mornings like the one he had, he still can’t help but wonder how much better off they might have been without him.

They eat in contemplative silence afterwards. While he finishes his sandwich he watches as Tony surreptitiously feeds his fries to the doberman under the table, unbeknownst to the owner. He has to eat quickly to conceal the smile taking over his lips when the dog slowly shuffles closer to their table with purpose, looking at Tony with big, soulful eyes. 

Once he’s finished eating and there’s nothing left to hide his amusement, he resumes their conversation.

Clearing his throat, he points towards the Mustang once he has Tony’s attention. “Okay, your turn. What’s with the deal with the old girl?”

"My car?”

"Yeah. Explain the whole greaser vibe.”

The other boy is quiet for a moment, his gaze searching Petter contemplatively, a napkin being twisted between his hands.

“She was a hunk’a junk when I bought her, mostly scrap metal. I bought all the spare parts and got her up to scratch. I dunno, I just like cars, tinkering with them or whatever.”

“You restored her by yourself?” Peter asks, reluctantly impressed. 

He looks at the car again, trying to picture it.

It wasn’t hard to imagine Tony Stark getting his hands dirty, being the prized pig that he was, but having the wherewithal and competence to rebuild a vintage vehicle at sixteen? It would explain the whole Danny Zuko, T-Bird look, but with his bank balance, he could have easily bought a Mustang in mint condition without having to lift a finger. It would explain the streaks of oil from the other day.

Tony shrugs, twisting a napkin between his hands.

“Sorta. Anyway, quit your judging, four-eyes.”

“Not judging,” Peter holds his hands up in innocence. “I just didn’t expect that about you.”

“Yeah, well. I’m exceptional, I know.”

"That’s not the word I would use,” Peter allows. “But you’re not the worst.”

A flash of surprise briefly crosses the other boys face before it disappears. 

“High praise,” he says wryly, resting his chin on his hand. He looks Peter up and down slowly, his big, curious eyes made warm by the dying sunlight. 

“I’m as shocked as you are.”

“...You’re not the worst either, I guess,” Tony sighs like it pains him to admit it. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, we could never be friends -”

“Definitely not -”

“ - but you’re not completely intolerable. God, never thought I’d say that. Maybe I’m growing as a person.”

“Am I still a neanderthal?”

Sipping his milkshake through the straw, Tony raises his shoulders half-heartedly.

Peter kicks his foot from under the table, unwilling to take that for an answer, even if Tony kicks him back, his eyes flicking upwards briefly, his smile almost bashful. In the dying light of the sunset he almost looks soft; approachable.

“Probably shouldn’t have called you that, huh.”

“Probably not. Is that an apology?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Don’t push it, Parker. I’m just saying you’re not completely abhorrent. Who knew.”

“I knew. I just don’t know why you’ve always hated me so much.”

He doesn’t mean for it to come out small and quiet, but he can’t take it back once the words have left his mouth.

It starts to rain.

“Sorry,” Peter says, louder to be heard over the droplets hitting the overhead umbrella heavily, immediately feeling stupid. “I shouldn’t have -- it’s not a big deal. I mean, I really don’t like you either.”

“Can I get you boys anything else?” 

Both boys turn towards the waitress who’s approached their table, lined-lips smiling down at them, a notepad in her hand.

Tony throws a fifty down on the table and stands and Peter follows suit.

“Nah,” he says, cocking his head to the door. “We’re good.”

---

“See you back at school?” Peter yells to be heard over the rain, back on the sidewalk.

“I’ll drive you back,” Tony yells back, wet hair clinging to his face.

“What?” Peter cups a hand over his ear.

“What?” Tony does the same. “I said I’ll give you a lift!”

“The station isn’t far,” he points. “I can walk!”

“Don’t make me look like an asshole! Get in, princess!”

With the rain pelting his thin shirt and thunder cracking angrily from above, he doesn’t spend his energy arguing. He gets in.

---

The short drive back is amicable, music muted, the pitter-patter of the easing rain filling the ever-growing comfortable silence between them.

With the heater going it doesn’t take long to dry off and restore the feeling back to his fingers. Heat beats from the vents beating pleasantly and along with being sated from the meal, Peter feels like he could nod off at any moment. He has to keep snapping his eyes open, although it’s difficult to adjust his focus as the sunset bleeds into a ruddy orange on the wet windshield, the lights from the cars blurring into bright long streaks of colour. 

"You’re not a total lost cause, Tony admits, slowing as they near his apartment block. It’s the first time either of them has spoken since starting the drive back. “Look, maybe it’s the fact that your face looks like a puckered asshole when you speak, I don’t know. There’s just something about you that really rubs me the wrong way."

Peter cringes as they come to a stop outside his building.

"I don't want to rub you in any way."

"And yep, here comes the mental image,” Tony’s nose scrunches, like an infant that just ate something sour. “Gross. Thanks, Parker.”

“Welcome.”

He unbuckles himself and opens the door, hesitating for a second while the moment settles between them. 

“Thanks for the grub and the ride, I guess. Text me when you get the paperwork from Miranda?”

“Aye, aye,” Tony mock salutes him. “Now get out of my car.”

Peter complies, giving him the finger by way of goodbye. 

Once the car merges and disappears into the traffic, he grins down at his hands, cheeks going warm.

It’s the thrall of finally feeling on equal-footing, he reasons, as he takes the step back up to his apartment. That’s what it is. His stomach is inexplicably still squirming as he enters ascends the floors, going over the day in his head until he arrives at his door.

It smells like tikka masala and too much ginger when he enters. He sets his backpack by the door, placing his keys on a nearby hook. 

May greets him with a sway of her spatula, sauce hitting the splashback with the motion.

“Hey bubby,” she says, gripping his shoulder as he nears and kissing his cheek.

Upon closer inspection, he finds that the kitchen is sparking clean. The floors have been mopped, the grout between the tiling is without a speck of dirt and there are faint notes of harsh disinfectant below the smell of spices.

“Oh wow,” Peter says, looking down at the chicken and bean assortment. The rice on the burner looks soggy and overcooked. “That looks great. How was work?”

She gestures vaguely but doesn’t meet his eyes.

“You hungry?”

It’s the same weird behaviour from this morning and he doesn’t have the heart to say that he’s already eaten.

Instead, he collects the cutlery and napkins, takes a stack of bowls and helps her plate up.

“Dancing With The Stars?” he asks, tilting his head towards the living room. He hip-checks her when she doesn’t reply. “C’mon, you’re not going to let me eat all alone, are ya? Tony says ‘hi’, by the way.”

He doesn’t know why he adds that last part, recalling the exchange rom the other day, but it’s worth it to see her smile.

“Alright,” she nods, scooping rice into the bowls. “How is Tony?”

Everything that happened that day bleeds away, unimportant, insignificant. 

“He’s alright, I guess.”

---

May falls asleep on the sofa hours later. 

He doesn’t want to move her, as exhausted as she is, so he covers her with an old blanket and removes the glasses from her face, placing them on the coffee table. He cleans up as quietly as he can and places her phone on charge in the living room.

On his way to bed he checks his phone for the time. Both Bucky and Tony have sent him text messages, the latter with the awaited paperwork.

Ben would be proud of him, he thinks, smiling as he reads through some of it, saving the rest of it until he’s more alert.

Maybe it wasn’t such a horrible end to the day after all.

---

*

*

---

tagging: @bylerboyfriends @ravens-starker-stuff, @starker-rays, @ironspiderstarker, @muse-of-gods, @notfor-temporaryuse, @tabbycat1220, @sugarfreecult, @rebel13lion39, @plueschpop, @spideravocados, @jellybbunny,  @booktrashme, @elfkido, @mycatislickingmybedsheets, @queerghostboyo, @disneyprincessdominatrix, @cherrygoldlove @starkerflowers @starkeristheendgame @thewolffearsher @starkersugar

#starker #starker fic #tony stark x peter parker #high school au #enemies to lovers

[happyandticklish]

Grub Scars

Dave discovers something knew about Karkat and Karkat doesn’t entirely hate him for it. 

The roar of the TV was muffled in the ears of the two teenagers sprawled on the tiny couch, their limbs entangled in messy disarray. Karkat grunted as two hands slid up his back, pulling him in tighter against Dave. His lips murmured breathily against Dave’s neck.

“You’re missing the movie.” He gently bit at the tender skin of his throat, a tiny thrill coursing through him at the noise Dave made.

“Fuck the movie,” was the casual reply and Dave pulled back momentarily to grin at him, shades askew from the impromptu make out session. He ran his hands contemplatively over Karkat’s torso, deciding a new target for his affections. He tugged at the hem of his shirt, silently asking permission. Karkat didn’t reply, turning to face the TV though it was obvious he wasn’t taking in anything the show was saying. Dave rolled his eyes at his stubbornness and slipped his hands under his sweater anyway.

Karkat hissed sharply at cold fingers but didn’t move away. Dave traced his hands over the soft skin of his abdomen, noticing something odd as he did.

“Karkat?” he asked.

“Mmm?”

“What are these lines on your ribs?”

Karkat’s eyes opened briefly, annoyed at being interrupted. “They’re my grub scars. All trolls have them.”

Dave sat back, all thoughts of making out momentarily flung from his brain as he studied this new anomaly. “Grub scars… like from when you were a baby? Or a larvae, I guess. I always forgot you guys are part insect too. Dude, that’s so weird.”

Karkat attempted to sit up, glaring at Dave, but was stopped by a hand pushing him back down. “We are not, part insect, as you say. If anything your insects are half-troll as they came second. And grub scars are a completely normal thing. They are no different than your ‘bellybuttons’ or whatever the fuck you call them.”

Dave wasn’t listening, poking the lines experimentally. They were raised in slight bumps atop the troll’s ribs and were of a ruddy complexion. There were three on either side and Dave traced his thumb over one curiously.

He didn’t miss the way Karkat jumped, nor the faint shade of red his face had turned. “Dude, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, you useless excuse for a human being, and I would appreciate it if you would remove your filthy human appendages from my—ah!”

Karkat was cut off mid-rant as Dave curled his fingers, watching his boyfriend’s reaction. A knowing grin was forming on Dave’s face and Karkat winced in preparation for the coming attack. But instead of launching into a vicious, one-sided tickle fight, Dave continued to gently trace over the scars, his fingers ghosting the skin and sending shudders scurrying down Karkat’s spine. He watched Karkat all the while, checking for a reaction, and that was when Karkat knew he was trapped.

“You okay there, Karkat?” Dave asked, stone-faced as usual. Karkat gripped his hands tight in the cushions of the couch, trying to focus on the TV and failing miserably. “You seem kind of tense.”

“I’m f-fine,” Karkat replied snarkily, ignoring the stutter in his voice. “Now will you shut your incessant blabbering and let me enjoy the show we were originally watching before you decided it was time to board the train to make-out station.”

Dave snorted at the word usage, digging his nails in gently at the very edges of the scars and grinning as Karkat choked back a whine. “Like you weren’t enjoying yourself. And I believe it’s called make-out central.”

“I thought I told you to be quiet, so how is it I can still see your mouth moving and hear the irritating tenor of your hormonal voice cracks?”

“Point taken. I guess we’ll just continue in silence then.”

Karkat grunted.

The movie displayed two men shouting passionately at each other while another one nervously tried to console the both of them. It was inevitably leading to either homicide or filthy love making, either one disgustingly graphic in nature; it was difficult to tell with troll romance. However, neither of the two boys were paying any attention to the movie, nor had they been paying any attention since the moment the title screen rolled across the TV.

Dave was having a field day with the new discovery of grub scars, much to Karkat’s chagrin. At first it was just tracing, light and easy to deal with. After a while it almost began to feel good, and Karkat felt his eyelids fluttering sleepily and his breathing evening out into a relaxed hum of contentment.

At first.

Karkat jerked awake again as nails suddenly dug into his sides, a surprised squeak of laughter betraying him. Dave smirked triumphantly, having gotten the reaction he’s wanted.

“What the fuck Strider?” Karkat growled, his hands now clamped around Dave’s wrists in a vise-like grip. Dave’s fingers were still touching his skin, unfortunately, and they continued to wiggle gently which was succeeding at slowly driving the troll insane.

“I didn’t know you were ticklish.” He curled his fingers in a devastating claw motion and Karkat’s eyes snapped shut again, hissing anxiously. “How come I didn’t know this?”

“I’m not ticklish,” Karkat denied immediately, but stuttered giggles were slipping past his lips as he squirmed under Dave’s touch. “You’re ticklish.”

It was a moronic comeback, but Karkat couldn’t think while his body was racked with the tortuous sensations. Dave’s cheeks flushed a gentle shade of pink and he rolled his eyes. “Dude, lame. You totally are. You’re laughing right now.”

He was and he hated it. “S-Shut uhup. Just st-stohop.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Dahave, I s-swehear to gog—”

“Do the grub scars make it more ticklish or less ticklish?” Dave asked, ignoring him completely. His eyes gleamed with genuine interest while he waited for an answer.

“Y-Yehehes, you fuhuhucktard!” Karkat threw his head back as Dave’s gentle scratches turned into rough poking and prodding. “Gahaha, whahahat the fuhuhuck?”

“This is great. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh before. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile before.” His fingers moved up just slightly, teasing at the barest edges of underarms, and Karkat lost it, kicking the back of the couch in frantic pleas. “I’m barely even touching you. This is kind of sad actually.”

“Fuhuhuck y-y-yohou, ehehe, nohoho, gog!” Karkat’s laughter had transformed into a storm of hiccupy giggles, an odd change from his usual gravelly grumbling. He had released Dave’s wrists and was now flailing his hands around uselessly, occasionally shoving at Dave’s arms to no avail. He jumped as the fingers found their destination in his armpits, slamming his arms down and subsequently trapping Dave’s hands there.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, nohohohoho!” Karkat curled up into the couch, trying to dislodge the hands and only getting them more stuck in the process. “Stohohohop!”

“I can’t. You’ve got to lift your arms dude.”

“I hahahate y-yohohou!”

“Careful Karkat, I might start thinking you’re feeling black for me.”

“Fuhuhuck yohohou!”

After another valiant attempt to get away without lifting his arms, Karkat decided he had no choice but to retaliate. Having no plan of action aside from getting those damn fingers off of him, he reached out blindly and clamped his hands around Dave’s sides, squeezing harshly.

Dave let out an uncharacteristic bark of laughter, jerking back immediately. Having accomplished his goal, Karkat decided revenge was due. He quickly tackled Dave, pinning his hands above his head with one hand and raising the other one in a menacing gesture over his stomach.

“So Dave…” he panted, sweat glistening on his forehead as he grinned. “Now that you’ve had your fun I think it’s time you face a taste of your own medicine.”

Dave squirmed underneath him, eyeing the hovering hand apprehensively. “Look, I’m sorry man, but think about what you’re doing.”

Karkat raised an eyebrow. “Why? Are you ticklish?”

Dave flushed, an odd look to see on the normally stoic Strider. Karkat decided he liked the look. “No. I mean, a little. But so is everyone else. Look, the point is I’m sorry. Can we please just go back to making out?”

“Maybe later,” Karkat promised, lowering his hand. “But right now I think I have some well-earned revenge to dish out.”

The second his hand made contact Dave burst into laughter. His laugh was boisterous and carefree, nothing like the boy who it came from. He giggled uncontrollably as Karkat scribbled fingers all over his stomach, the sensitive skin jumping under the touch.

“Ahahaha! Fuhhuhuck, yohohour w-weird troholl nahails tickle, gohohod!” He arched up against the bed, arms tugging uselessly against Karkat’s hold, squealing when Karkat pinched his hips. “Gah! Nohoho, nohohot thehehere!”

“What’s wrong Strider? You can dish it out but you can’t take it?”

Karkat was ecstatic. Here was Dave, master of cool, giggling like a wriggler under him at a little tickling. He tried not to focus on the fact that just seconds ago he too had been the dumb wriggler helpless to Dave’s fingers, and decided to move up to the ribs, seeing as that had been the start of all this trouble.

Dave jerked away, tugging desperately at his trapped arms. “Duhuhude, sohoho nohohot cohohohool!”

“You know, while we’re here I think it would be a good time to learn more about your species. Tell me Dave, how many ribs does a human have?”

Dave spluttered incredulously, struggling to focus. “Whahahat? Ihihi dohohon’t knohohow! twehehenty-fohohour?”

Karkat tapped his nails against the blond boy’s sides, shaking his head. “You don’t sound too sure, Dave. I think I may have to figure out for myself.”

“Whahahat—gahaha!”

Dave snorted as Karkat dug his nails in-between his upper ribs, counting as he went. “Let’s see. One, two, three, four—quit moving, asshole. Now I have to start over.”

“Karkahahahat!” Dave whined and fell back into squeaky giggles as the process repeated.

This was surprisingly fun. Karkat had never seen Dave laugh with such abandon before. He was always so obsessed with being cool or ironic or whatever dumb concept he was into at the time, and it felt nice to break him out of his shell.

As it turned out, Dave was even more ticklish than Karkat. Every spot produced more of that squeaky, high-pitched laughter, and Dave seemed unable to control himself as he squirmed helplessly underneath him, protests and pleas spilling out amidst the laughter. Finally Karkat decided to give him a break and backed off, releasing his grip on Dave’s wrists.

Dave was a mess. His shirt was mussed up all the way to his chest and he was breathing heavily, cheeks bright red from laughing. Somewhere in the process his shades had been knocked askew and they lay haphazardly on one side of his head, held on by one ear. Karkat’s own eyes widened as he took in the other boy’s eyes.

Red, bright red from mirth and accusations as they turned a betrayed glare on Karkat.

“Rude. I did not tickle you for that long.”

“Your shades.”

Dave blinked, realizing their absence. “Fuck.” He quickly grabbed them, shoving them firmly back over his eyes. “You didn’t see anything.”

Karkat grinned, already missing their presence. “You looked adorable.”

“Shut the fuck up man.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

Dave tried to get up but found that Karkat was still firmly planted on his waist. He frowned, trying again. Nothing.

“Uh, you mind moving?”

Karkat shook his head. “I’m good. I quite like where I am right now.”

Dave raised an eyebrow. “Do you now?”

“Yeah.” Karkat crossed his arms, taking in the sight of the helpless Strider before him. “I think I’ll have to have you like this more often.”

Dave snorted at the corniness of it, ignoring the flush of his cheeks. “Okay, whatever. Get down here and kiss me already.”

Karkat did, but mere minutes later his fingers found themselves tracing up the boy’s sides yet again and they found themselves emerged in a second round of ridiculousness that neither was entirely angry about. 

#karkat strider #tickling #dave strider #homestuck #tickle fic #fanfic #davekat

[divineluce]

Research Reunion || Orion & Luce

Timing: May 11th, 2021

Tagging: @3starsquinn & @divineluce

Location: The Scribrary

Description: Who else would know phoenixes better than a Scribe? Luce goes to Rio for help-- third time’s the charm. Right?

Grabbing her backpack from the passenger seat of her car, Luce glanced up at the Scribary. She remembered the last time she’d been here, vividly, in fact. She’d been asking Rio for help that day too. Help for… Swallowing, she slid the backpack over her shoulder, keenly aware of the books inside. They were the one she’d borrowed from Rio, months and months ago. Books about ghosts, about exorcisms. She’d poured over every single page, trying to figure out how she could do something. And in the end, she hadn’t even been able to help. She’d failed. Nadia was safe, but no thanks to her. It was like how Remmy was safe, how Bea was safe-- by virtue of being nowhere near this town, they were safe. Luce made her way to the door of Scribe HQ and knocked on the door. “Hey. I need your help.” She said, not looking at Rio. The last time they’d seen each other… She didn’t want to think about that. Instead, she awkwardly held up her backpack, “I’ve also got some overdue books.”

Orion hadn’t expected to hear from Luce. The two hadn’t seen each other since everything with Lydia. And the last that he had heard from her was the alcoholic apology for punching him. Rio just hadn’t been sure which time specifically she had been apologizing for. Maybe it was meant as a catch all. Broken cheek bone aside, getting punched was nowhere near the reason that Rio expected the two hadn’t seen each other since the incident. The whole situation with Lydia… it still weighed on Rio. People had died. Instead of getting to help, Rio had been promise bound into hurting his sister and friends all in an attempt to help a serial killer escape. He still hadn’t forgiven himself for being so naive. At the end of the day, Rio and Luce had never been particularly close. She was more like the sister of the best friend of the person Rio had been dating. Familiar with each other by extension, acquaintances by association. “Hi there.” Rio held the door open, scratching the back of his neck as a nervous tick while conveniently covering half of his face with his arm. Just the memory of Luce made his face throb. “I really hope we can do introductions without the uh- punching thing this time.” Rio smiled innocently, though the joke sounded more like a genuine plea than anything a normal person would laugh at. But if there was anything that could get Rio out of that funk it was the mention of his books. “Really?! That’s amazing. That means I can take you off my list. Come on, follow me we can head back to the library.” Rio waved her inside and started off down the winding hallways, “So uh- it’s been a while. How ya been?”

Grimacing at the memories of how she’d… greeted him in the past, Luce offered a tight lipped smile. “Nope. No punching this time.” She said. Christ. He was just a fucking kid. And she’d fucking clocked him. Twice. She needed to work on that. She needed to work on a lot of things, but decking kids was definitely on the list. Slipping the bag off her shoulder, Luce pulled out two of the thick leather bound books and tossed them to Rio. “Yep, right here. Ghosts and Ghouls and Diaries of an Exorcist. Real light reading.” She said before squinting in slight confusion. “A list?” She echoed as she followed him inside. The hallway seemed a bit brighter than the last time she’d been here and she realized there were lights installed along the halls. Lights that hadn’t been there before-- Winston’s handiwork, she realized. Winston must have fixed the place up before she left. Yet another person who was better off away from here.

Shrugging, she mulled over her response. Out of magic. Out of people to turn to. Which is why she was here, why she’d talked to Leah. “Keeping on keeping on. Just trying to fix some shit, that’s all. What about you?” She asked.

It felt like there were a million books in the Scribrary. Far too many for Orion to ever truly miss a random ghost book that Luce had borrowed a few months back. Still, there was something oddly comforting about knowing that one was going to be back where it belonged and he could mark it off the list. “Oh yeah. I sort of started a list. Like a book check out system, so that I can keep a better track where the books are. If I can’t find one I start to get stressed, so it’s a bit calming to know which ones are in someone else’s hands.” Rio shrugged following the explanation. Even he knew that it seemed a little over the top, but considering people had found their way in before without his knowledge he also thought it’d be a good idea to keep track just in case a book disappeared that he hadn’t lent out. Farther down the hallway, he couldn’t help himself from making further conversation, “For the record, what I said earlier? When you first got here? Totally a joke. I don’t blame you for either time you-” Rio held up a fist and motioned towards his face. “Just so you know.”

Rio wondered what Luce meant by that. What exactly was she trying to fix? It probably had something to do with what she was doing here asking for his help. “Good to hear.” Rio answered regardless. It hadn’t been the most positive answer, but keeping on was about as good as it got in White Crest, “Loaded question. I guess I’m alright, all things considered. It’s just been a long year already.” He didn’t want to bother Luce with all of his issues. It was just depressing and sad, “But I’m glad you dropped by. I’m happy to help with whatever you need.”

“Huh. Guess that makes sense.” Luce said, because it did on some level. She’d never liked books, never really cared much for anything that she couldn’t listen to or see or feel. But it made sense for Rio to keep track of shit. They continued down the hallway in relative silence, Luce aware of how fucking awkward it all was. She’d never really given a shit about Rio. Which was a pretty terrible thing, but it was true. Rio wasn’t someone she’d bothered to get to know-- he was just Winston’s boyfriend. But, he wasn’t just that, was he? He’d been there, that day… he’d seen what she’d done. He’d stood between her and Lydia and she hadn’t cared. And fuck. He was… human. Innocent. “You should. I shouldn’t have punched you. Either time.” She said, her voice dull, sounding almost as numb as she felt. The memories of that day still haunted her. Day and night, what she’d done, it stayed with her.

“Yeah.” Luce said offhandedly. “I feel that. A long fucking year already.” It was hard to believe that a single year had passed since she’d been pulled from her cabin by her parents, forced to live with Bea and Nell. Now, she would give almost anything to even see her parents, let alone argue with them over whether it was really necessary for her to live with her sisters as a grown ass adult. Clearing her throat as they entered a room lined with shelves crammed full of books, “Great. I’m looking for books on phoenix’s. Specifically stuff on what can cause corruption. I reached out to,” Luce paused, not knowing if Rio was exactly on the up and up with Leah, “someone who knows about phoenix’s, but they didn’t know much either.”

It was obvious from her tone that Luce didn’t want to talk about it. Orion couldn’t claim that he wanted to talk about it either. It was awkward. Especially with someone he didn’t actually know well. “I mean the first time was just a misunderstanding. I can’t fault you for looking out for Winston.” Rio shrugged. He hadn’t loved it when it had happened. And he had mostly wished that Luce would have given him at least a minute to try to explain himself before she chose to punch him instead. But Rio and Luce weren’t super close. Luce cared about Winston and owed nothing to Rio. “I can’t say I would have done the same, but that’s just because I’m very non confrontational. I’d rather silently second guess from afar.” The second time was an entirely different story. “And we all know that I wasn’t in control with Lydia. You had to do what you had to do. If anyone should be apologizing it’s me. I threw a knife at you.” The reminder of it flashed through his head. The snapping of Athena’s arm. The air whistling as the knife flew and landed in the back of Luce’s leg. He blinked the images away and tried to focus again. “I’m just saying, neither one was exactly unmotivated.”

Inside the library, Rio was able to breathe a tiny bit easier. Something about the place calmed him. Maybe being here with Luce was not any less awkward than it was in the hallway, but it felt less claustrophobic. Physically and mentally. “Phoenixes?” Rio repeated, crossing his arms and giving a huff as he tried to consider what might be useful. “Honestly? There’s not a ton of information on them in the Scribrary. I have a theory, but can’t really prove it. But I think maybe one of them knew enough about their past lives to take the books that were stored here. Or the Phoenixes that worked as Scribes never trusted them enough with the knowledge.” All of that was speculation, a theory mostly beginning when he learned that Leah’s past life had been involved with the Scribes. Part of Rio wanted to question Luce’s source. Given her sister’s relationship with Leah, it made sense that Leah directly might be the source. But he didn’t have any interest in outing the woman if Luce wasn’t privy to that knowledge. Leah was actually starting to trust Rio, despite his hunter heritage. He didn’t want to give her any reason to jeopardize that. “But I definitely have some stuff on them. Follow me.”

“I should have stopped to think. To ask questions, get some straight answers.” Luce replied dully, her boots falling heavily against the solid stone pavers of the building. How fucking old was this place anyways, she wondered absently. It seemed older than the town itself. “I should have done a lot of shit differently.” She said, but grimaced at Rio’s next words. You had to do what you had to do. No. She’d done much more than that. She remembered the way she’d set fire to innocent bystanders, people caught in the crossfire of a world they weren’t even aware of. She could feel the flames curl and crackle against their skin. She could remember the way rage and fear had coursed through her. “Sure. They weren’t unmotivated.” But they were motivated for the wrong fucking reasons.

Glancing around at the massive store of books, Luce had a hard time believing that the Scribes didn’t have much on the subject of Phoenix’s. They had to have something. They had to have information. Or else… what was Luce going to do? Give up. Go back to Adam and tell her she wasn’t the right person for the job. Her magic was gone, her sister was gone, her family had abandoned her for what she was. And now, she couldn’t-- she couldn’t even find a goddamn book. Luce wrapped her arms around herself as she listened to him, as though she could hold all the remains of who she was together. “Alright. Makes sense to me. Theories and stuff aren’t my wheelhouse, but sure. Lead the way.” She nodded.

Unable to argue that, Orion just shrugged. At the time, he had certainly wished that Luce had stopped to question Rio on the topic or tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. Partially because he didn’t enjoy getting punched in the face, but mostly because he had hoped that he ame off friendly and pleasant enough that Luce might have questioned the misunderstanding entirely. He had to remind himself that the two had not been friends at the time. He wasn’t even sure what they were now. “Yeah. Well I get that much. I would have done a lot differently too.” Like never promise a random woman that he would protect her at all costs. The only problem was that he wasn’t sure he would have done anything different. He still wanted to give people the benefit of the doubt. He just couldn’t help himself from making stupid decisions.

Rio didn’t waste any time leading her to the few materials that he had found on phoenixes. Most were journals by other scribes talking about their experience with them, though there were a few self-collected bestiaries that almost devoted a small section to them. Certainly not as vast as some of the more common supernatural creatures. Books about vampires or werewolves took up multiple bookshelves, while mentions of Phoenixes fit neatly on a single row. “I guess theories and stuff is sort of my area of expertise. If you want to call it that.” He honestly wasn’t sure what he would describe as his ‘wheelhouse’. When he got to the shelf, and pulled off a book and started flipping through it, “So if there’s anything about them it’s probably here. Feel free to start flipping through some of them. What kind of corruption do you mean?”

“Shoulda,” Luce kicked at a broken piece of cobblestone, “Coulda,” The stone bounced and skittered across the floor ahead of her, “Woulda.” She said, a grim expression on her face. There were a lot of things she would have done differently. She wouldn’t have let herself get carried away by fear, by anger. She wouldn’t have called in a favor from a woman she hardly knew or understood. She wouldn’t have listened to the words of a kid, of a… fuck. She was more than just a kid. Athena was Rio’s sister. Christ. Rubbing her forehead, Luce followed him to a different section of the scribrary. The books here were all old, leather bound things, with worn spines. No doubt used by generations of Hunters and Scribes alike. And now… her. To try and do something good for once.

“The way I see it, you’re the expert here on books. Theories go right along with that.” She shrugged. Luce wasn’t a theory gal, wasn’t a reader, barely even gave a shit about learning things she cared about. Rubbing a hand on her arm, Luce thought back to the scene she and Adam had witnessed in the forest. The way the fires had burned an natural red, the way a curved beak had seemed to jut from the phoenix’s face, while their head remained human. Pulling another book from the shelf, she paused at an anatomical diagram of a phoenix, in both human and full form. How had the person who wrote this book figured out the anatomy? Had the phoenix in this sketch offered this knowledge? Or had it been taken? Luce cleared her throat. “The flames, they didn’t burn like normal fire. Or normal phoenix fire either. There were feathers, on fire, being shed all over the place. And they didn’t go out on their own. They just kept burning, like oil. And the flames, they didn’t look right. There was this shade of red, to them. I’ve never seen fire look like that before.” She frowned, “And I know fire.”

Listening to Luce’s description, a worried line settled across Orion’ face. “That sounds scary.” He didn’t know much about phoenixes, but that definitely didn’t sound normal. Plus, he trusted Luce if she said that it hadn’t been normal. “Definitely not something you see everyday.” Rio had a bad feeling that if the former Scribe phoenixes did know anything about this it wasn’t something that they would want stored in Scribe records for anybody in the group to see. His only hope was that something was left behind, or somebody was studying the phoenix without their knowledge. Just the thought of that made him feel gross, though. He didn’t want to operate like that. Studying someone that didn’t want their secrets out. He would be better. He had to be. “Do you think they were dangerous?”

Had it been scary? Maybe. At this point, Luce had seen so much shit in this town, done so much fucked up shit… it hadn’t really registered as scary. Which was a troubling thought-- one that she could deal with later. When she wasn’t trying to stop half the woods outside of White Crest from getting set ablaze. Shrugging, she continued to flip through her book, “Nope. Not at all. Apparently, they also were able to melt through a car. Which means they’re powerful. Real goddamn powerful.” She said, thinking back to the melted shards of glass and obsidian, the dried streambed. At Rio’s question, Luce paused. Yes, definitely. But not because they wanted to be. “They’re dangerous only because they’re out of control. Whatever happened to them, it doesn’t look like it was intentional. Magic might change someone’s appearance, but it wouldn’t be enough to alter their flames. I think they’re in trouble.” I think they’re afraid of what they’ve done. What they might do.

Orion continued flipping through his own book, but couldn’t help but glance up at Luce as she described the encounter. She sounded so casual while discussing so insanely powerful. Rio had been dealing with the supernatural his entire life and he still couldn’t quite manage to keep himself that calm. “Woah. Didn’t know that was something they could do. That’s like… insanely hot.” Rio had no idea exactly how hot, but definitely not a safe amount of hot. He realized moments too late what he had said. “Hot as in like actual temperature hot, I mean. Not like attractive hot. For the record. I mean melting a car might be very attractive. I’ve never seen it for myself.” Definitely time to focus on reading that book again. He pulled it up to try to head his reddening face and only peaked over the top to look back at Luce when she gave him the best news he had heard so far tonight. That she didn’t think it was intentional. She didn’t think they were dealing with someone evil, but someone that might need help. Now that he could get behind. “In that case, we have to find something. I want to help.”

“Sure is.” Luce said off-handedly as she read a paragraph about phoenix feathers and molting patterns. Hm. Nothing there. A bit late, she realized that Rio was sputtering over his words. Glancing up from her book, she offered a grin. “Keep it in your pants there. But no, I know what you mean. It’s real fucking hot. I’ve melted metal before, but that shit takes time. And I only did doorknobs. I could never cut something as huge as a car. Guess that’s what happens when you’re basically a living sun.” She said before going back to her book. Fuck, she hated reading. Why weren’t there like… audiobooks for this shit? Or some wise old person to tell her what was up? Well. There were plenty of wise old spell casters in town, the difference was… they just wouldn’t have anything to do with her anymore. She couldn’t exactly go to them for help. So, Rio and Leah were the next best thing. At Rio’s words, Luce looked at him again, expression  pensive. “Why? This isn’t your responsibility, you don’t need to help me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you are. But why?” Was he trying to ease guilt the way she was, was he trying to atone?

“Ha ha. Very funny.” Orion laugh sarcastically, thankful that Luce didn’t spend much time teasing him on the subject. Instead, she surprised him. He knew about her family's power, but he had no idea she had been strong enough to use the fire to cut metal. “That’s impressive. I guess I should have known that fire magic like that could get that powerful.” The extent of his knowledge on spellcasters came from Winston and the Vural family admittedly. The Quinn family had never partnered much with spellcasters to help catch supernatural creatures. They had always been far too proud. He hadn’t been expecting Luce to question his intentions. It took him off guard, mostly because he didn’t really know them himself. Though he had more than a few ideas. “Um… I guess I don’t know the right answer to that.” Rio shrugged, but continued to consider the question, “I guess I’ve seen a lot of bad stuff in my life? I was raised as a hunter, told that supernatural people were inherently evil and unnatural. I knew that wan’t true, but I never got a chance to help them.” More often than not, Rio had stood idly by while watching them get slaughtered. It wasn’t a feeling that Rio would soon forget, the helplessness of knowing he couldn’t stop it. The disgust at himself for not trying anyways. He had failed so many people in this town. He just didn’t want to do that anymore. “Now’s my chance. I don’t want to waste it.”

“It can.” When it works. When it wants to. “But, I couldn’t do something like that even if I wanted to.” Luce said, saying the words her brain was thinking automatically. Luce’s mouth snapped shut and she stared at Rio. Fuck. Fuck. She hadn’t meant to say that. She didn’t-- she didn’t want more people to know about this than need be. She didn’t have the protection of the coven and Bea had only just gotten back from New York, she didn’t want to add more to her sister’s plate. Same went for Nell—she didn’t want to force her baby sister to watch her back. If more people knew that Luce was without her magic, it would paint a big fucking target on her back. “I didn’t say that. You didn’t hear anything about my magic. You got it?” She asked, voice shaking slightly.

Listening to his words, Luce couldn’t help but wonder how anyone could have thought that this kid could be a hunter. He might have the genes, but there wasn’t a cruel bone in his body. “Yeah. Don’t fucking waste it.” She repeated before looking blankly back down at the book that was clutched in her hands. Any other time, the pages would be scorched and smoking in her grasp, a byproduct of her stress and anger. But the pages were only slightly crumpled under her fingers. Fuck.

Orion was left confused and concerned about Luce’s comment. It had been said so quickly that it had almost completely gone over his head completely. But a few moments after Rio’s eyes narrowed as he became perplexed by the wording. His head tilted, glancing away from the book in order to get a better look at Luce. Before he even had a chance to question her, Luce was talking again. She seemed pretty adamant that this was not something to be spoken of. Or even remembered from the sounds of it. That only concerned Rio more. “Right. Uh- didn’t hear anything.” Rio bit his lip and considered if there was anything else he should say. Adam had experienced something similar with his own abilities. Why did that thing only happen to people that actually wanted the powers? “But uh- if I did hear something, I’d definitely be there for you. Like to help figure that out. But I wouldn’t tell anyone. If I had heard anything.”

Not wasting the opportunity would be a lot easier if Rio knew what to do to help. That was the first step in helping others. Still, he appreciated Luce’s energy. It was intimidating for sure, sometimes downright scary. But it was surprisingly motivating. It made Rio want to find the answer to this more than ever. “I won’t. We’re going to help.” Rio tried remaining confident. Good vibes only. “Even if we have to write it ourselves.”

“Nope. You sure didn’t.” Luce said flatly before looking back at her book. It was useless though. She wasn’t the studying type usually and even less so when she had an audience. She glared up at him, ready to tear him a new one if he kept up on this subject. But, as she looked over at him and saw the expression on his face, she couldn’t help but sigh. She didn’t want his help, but… “We’ve got more important things to deal with than my shit. But thanks. You don’t need to, though.”

“Yeah.” She said with a nod before flicking through her book. “Whatever it takes.” Luce said quietly, the words familiar to her tongue. Not in the same context, not in the same way, but the words were just as true as they were a year ago. Whatever it takes. She’d right her wrongs, one step at a time. As she skimmed over the pages, she paused on what looked like… an ingredient list. It seemed to be talking about some kind of illness-- not corruption, exactly. But something that affected phoenix flames. “Hey. What do you think about this?” She asked, pointing at the list. “Essence of the phoenix stricken by disease. White flowered herbs found where wild creatures roam, bound with sage and lavender to purify. Tears of another freely given and,” Luce squinted at the text, “Fire. Lots of fire.”

Clearly, Luce was serious about not bringing it up. Orion continued to peak over the book at her, trying to pick up on any signs without asking. Asking wasn’t the right idea it seemed. Rio wasn’t sure that he could necessarily relate. He had always hated his abilities, had wished that they would go away. For him, losing them felt like a blessing in disguise. But for someone that seemingly liked and enjoyed the powers they had always had, it must be a lot harder. Like an extension of themselves. Rio didn’t understand, but he could guess that it must feel like losing a part of herself. “Point taken. Subject dropped.” Rio assured her, though he hoped at some point it would come up again.

Rio continued skimming through his own book until Luce pointed something out in the book she was looking through. He bent around to get a better look at the list and scanned through quickly, noting a few words that stuck out to him. “A phoenix disease? Never heard of that before. But that could make sense.” If there was ever a disease specific to phoenixes, one of the first things Rio would consider was their fire abilities and temperature. “So is the list some kind of spell? Or potion maybe?” He squinted at the list further and sighed, “They kept it pretty vague. Except for the fire part.”

At least he dropped it. That was something. Luce focused on the list-- there wasn’t much to go off of at all. It read more like an old ritual that the coven would do, one of the ancient rites that they did on a yearly basis. Big magic, powerful magic. The books Bea had kept, the ones on necromancy, they had featured lists similar to these. They were written to be vague for a reason. “It’s a spell. A potion would have more specific instructions, discussion about tinctures or timing. This is a ritual, some kind of cleansing. The sage and lavender tell me that much.” She tapped the line on the book before flipping the page. But, there were no further instructions, no other words. “Whoever wrote this, they kept their cards close to their chest. And I don’t blame them. The Scribe who figured this out, they must have worked with spellcasters and at least one phoenix. Can’t imagine either of them would have wanted the specifics of a ritual to be written out.” She said with a sigh and pulled out her phone to take a picture of the list. “I don’t know exactly what all of this means. The fire is clear and the lavender and sage are easy enough to source. The specifics of it, though. Can’t tell you.” Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, Luce wished she was better at this. Better at all the parts of magic that she’d scorned. Because then, maybe she wouldn’t feel so lost.

Orion listened to Luce’s description intently. He was thankful to have a friend well versed on spells like that. That is what Luce was, right? A friend? Today more than ever, it seemed like there was actually a small chance of that. “Good to know.” Rio nodded, making a mental note of this in the back of his mind. He may never be involved in a spell or potion making, but he would at least remember how to tell a difference between the two, hopefully. “Big shocker there, a scribe being cryptic and vague.” He sighed. For a group dedicated to cataloguing supernatural knowledge for historical use, a lot of scribes didn’t love putting things in layman's terms. “I can’t tell you anything for sure, but I have a couple theories. That part about wild creatures. I would bet they’re referring to more than just your average wild animal. Probably somewhere with a large population of supernatural creatures. And this part,” Rio paused to look at the part about the tears of another, “Phoenix tears are supposed to be special, right? Some kind of super healer or something.”

“Witches aren’t much better. Must be a paranoid magic thing.” Luce said with a shake of her head before shutting the book. She couldn’t make heads nor tails of what it meant and, honestly, she wanted to be able to study the book on her own. It took her time to parse through magical shit, she didn’t pick up written spells and rituals quickly. “Mind if I borrow this? I’ll give it back sooner than the last batch.” She said, shaking the ancient book in her hand. “As far as what you’re saying… It makes sense, but keep looking for anything that might help. We don’t even know if this would help a phoenix who’s been corrupted. This is talking about disease, but I don’t think what we’re dealing with is a disease. I’ve got some leads I might track down, see if they can help.” She let out another sigh. “But yeah. Thanks for your help with this.”

Magic seemed fickle. Orion nodded at Luce’s statement, wondering what made it so different from hunter strength or a werewolf’s ability to turn. In the end, it was all some kind of magic, right? Some unexplained phenomenon that made people stronger or more capable than regular people. None of it made sense. But without any insight, Rio decided to just nod in agreement and leave it at that. “Yeah of course. Take whatever you want. I’ll just make a note of them before you leave. For this archive thing.” He shrugged, sure that she wasn’t interested in hearing about his attempts to modernize this ancient library. “Definitely. I’ll keep looking. Keep me updated okay? So I can help with stuff.”

Shoving the book into her backpack, Luce nodded. “I think just the one will be enough for me. It’s not exactly light reading.” She said as she shrugged on her bag. As she turned to leave, she glanced at the young Scribe for a moment. He really did want to help. And fuck, she needed the help. She wasn’t smart enough, didn’t know enough about magic outside of her own fire. And she couldn’t do this alone. It wasn’t possible, not if she wanted to help this person. “Yeah, I will. I’ll keep you posted. And if you find anything… let me know.” She said before turning her back on Rio and walking back down the dark corridors of the Scribrary. First Leah, now Rio. Who else would know about this? Who else could help her? Who else would understand why she… needed to do this?

It didn’t matter. It really didn’t. “Whatever it takes.” She repeated to herself. Whatever it takes, to bring some scrap of balance back to the world. To right the wrongs in her past. Whatever it takes. 

#p: rr #p: orion quinn #chatzy #wickedswriting

[russian-romanova]

sunday

title: sunday

pairing: joe goldberg

warnings: spoilers through season one of ‘you’. adult language. mentions of death, stalking and sexual content. mature themes explored by and mentioned in ‘you’. JOE IS NOT A GOOD GUY, HE’S JUST HOT. 

notes: i have no idea what this is. word vomit. joe’s point of view because i’m dumb and edgy like that. why do i like this character so much whyyyyyyyyyy

summary: you just have to make it through the week, because come sunday you have the whole day off to spend relaxing with your boyfriend. at least, that’s what you have planned. 

+      +       +

MONDAY.

You are incredibly smart. That goes without saying. I watch you read books, devour them from front to cover before other people would even decide to begin them. You’re willing to try new things because the first two times you came into Mooney’s you wandered for close to an hour. You came in not knowing what you wanted but left with anything you could possibly be interested in. 

That was two months ago. 

You’re a regular visitor now because we’re an item. Dating. In a relationship. I never know what to say, but neither do you since I’ve heard them all in descriptions of your friends. It doesn’t even matter, anyway, because you smile to your friends no matter what you call us. I never know if I’m doing this right Y/N, but with you I’m positive. You’re happier than I’ve ever seen you. 

You’re here at Mooney’s now, talking to me as we eat lunch together. We’re both sitting behind the counter on stools, the flow of people slow for now. It’s always like this around this time of day, and we’re both plenty familiar with that by now. Every so often some asshole comes in looking for a Tolstoy they can stare at for years or some autobiography they’ll only skim through, but besides that, it’s just us. 

“Okay, okay,” You’re laughing and waving your hand about the answer you just gave. We’ve been doing this a lot, asking each other pointless questions like this to simply know the answers. For you, plenty of these questions lead to these marvelous stories. It’s as if you want me to know everything about you so easily.  “Okay, you see a pothole in the road ahead, do you swerve or straddle?” 

I’m not sure about my answer, but that doesn’t matter anymore. I can tell what you want me to say. “Straddle,” My voice comes out a little above a whisper.

“Oh really?” You respond back in a voice that’s even quieter, biting your lip without even realizing it. “Me too. Crazy.”

“Crazy,” I repeat, and my mouth is already pulling into a smile. You lean forward and kiss me once -- eagerly -- then pull back to look at me before we kiss again, slower this time. I want you here, and I know you want me too, but we also have some normal human decency and know when the bell rings to stop kissing quickly. The man who wandered in didn’t seem to notice the two of us at first, too absorbed in his fucking phone. 

“Hello!” He speaks up when he notices us. “Can you point me to where Marcus Zuzak would be?” 

You smile. “Over there, under fiction. Near the end, because it’s by last name.” You lean over the counter ever so slightly to point him in the correct direction. He’s lucky you volunteered to help him because I doubt I would have been so polite. 

“Oh, of course. Thank you, dear.” The elderly man nods and moves in the direction of your pointed finger. You smile at him for a moment longer before you turn back around, grinning. 

“Wow, I might just take your job.” You joke, moving back up to sit on your stool. I had secretly hoped you would return to kissing me, but I knew deep down that wasn’t a likely possibility. 

“Yeah, do you want the apron?” I pull at the apron. “You can have the apron.” 

“Yeah, apron and nametag. I’m changing my name to Joe now.” You continued, before softly laughing and transitioning the conversation into silence. You look at me again, but it’s a much different look than last time. It’s not the heavily passionate look that I got over questions and sandwiches, this is a much more caring look. A loving look. “Hey, it’s been a while since we had a date night.” 

I want to return the look you give me, and I hope I am. I hope you understand I love you as much as you love me, Y/N. “Yeah, you’re right. Hey, we should plan one.”

“Okay,” You nodded once, slowly as you plunged through your invisible mental calendar. “Are you free Sunday?”

For you, Y/N, I’m free any day. “Yeah, I think Sunday should work out. Seven?” 

You nod once more, kicking your legs. “Okay, seven on Sunday it is.” 

I want to reply, but the man returns with a book that is certainly not Zuzak, but I’m not one to say anything. 

“Ready to check out?” I ask him, but you hop up before I can move forward.

“Here, I can help you. My name is Joe,” You joke, and the poor old man nods his head. “Looks like a good book.” 

TUESDAY.

I’m not supposed to be at your apartment, which I suppose is part of the reason my heart rate spikes when the doorbell rings. I have been trying to get away from this, from the pointless apartment lurking, but I couldn’t resist today. I missed you, Y/N. 

For a second, I think the doorbell might be you come to pick up something you’ve forgotten, but then I realize you wouldn’t be ringing the doorbell. It buzzes again and is now followed by a series of pounding knocks. “Hey, Y/N, are you in there?” A man’s voice comes through into the apartment. “C’mon, it’s Arthur. Let me in.” 

Arthur.

He sounds vaguely desperate, his voice tinged with a whine. How could you ever have loved this man, Y/N? He’s like some distressed puppy dog who found his way home after being left on the side of the road. He says some word pleas, but I’m already turning over possible ways this could go down in my head. 

“Listen, I know that you probably hate me,” Arthur speaks again. You’re right; I’m sure you do. “But I just want to talk to you. I need to apologize. I’m sorry.” He sounds genuine. 

I open the door, and Arthur looks stunned. “Shit, is this the wrong apartment? Sorry, I’m looking for Y-”

“Y/N. I know.” I put on a fake smile. This is polite Joe, boyfriend Joe. This is the Joe that you know, Y/N. “She’s not home right now, actually.”

“Oh,” Arthur’s face turns red. 

“I’m Joe,” I stick out my hand. “Y/N’s boyfriend.” I almost smile at the words. 

He takes my hand and shakes it, although his mind is clearly elsewhere. “I’m Arthur. Bishop.” 

Jesus, Arthur Bishop? What kind of a name is Arthur Bishop? “I heard.” I’m still smiling, although it’s uncomfortable now. He’s ignoring me, and I know his thoughts are on you. “Did you need me to pass along a message?” I push, trying to get answers. I need to know if Arthur is a threat to you, Y/N, a threat to us. 

“Yeah, um, I haven’t seen Y/N in two years, actually. But we used to date-” I could see him remember who he was talking to. “It was a long time ago.” He added. 

“Yeah, I think she’s mentioned you.” I lied. Do you wanna come in?” 

When Arthur says yes, I really begin to doubt what you see in him. Is he stupid? Arthur has no idea who I really am, no proof that I’m your boyfriend or that I can be trusted. If he had been at least a little doubtful, I would have at least respected that. I almost feel bad for him, Y/N. 

An ex-boyfriend. Here we are, two of the people who you have loved in your apartment without your knowledge. He makes himself at home very quickly; without even taking off his shoes. He’s jittery, unfocused. His legs bounce up and down as he sits on your couch, and I’m suddenly self-conscious for you, Y/N, because of all the clothes you had strewn around. I walk towards the kitchen and kick a bra under the couch. 

“So, what did you say the deal was between you and Y/N?” I ask, moving towards the counter.

Arthur hesitates for a moment. Never a good sign. “Is there a bathroom I could use?”

No, dipshit, no bathrooms here. “Yeah, just down the hall. You okay?” 

He nods, clearly lying. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be right back.” He moves quickly, but once I hear the bathroom door close I move twice as fast. The bathroom, Arthur? Do you think I’m dumb? On second thought, are you dumb? 

I know where your medicine cabinet is, and I know where the prescription sleeping pills you keep are. My fingers grasp the small bottle and I shake a few out onto my palm -- not so many that you’ll notice they’re gone, but enough to take care of Arthur in the other room. 

I move silently back to the kitchen, pulling one of your knives from the display. At least your counter is clean enough that I can put the pills down directly and crush them with the knife. One, two, three presses and I’ve deemed them powdered enough to brush into my hand and shake into a glass of water. 

I hope you’re thirsty, Arthur. 

WEDNESDAY.

The cage is no longer empty, which is always a strange feeling. And Arthur is so quiet I practically forget he’s down there. 

I wonder a little if I overreacted with Arthur. If I should have just stayed put and pretended no one was home or let him come in and leave on his own time. But deep down, Y/N, I knew that he was a risk. I didn’t even have to know what this guy wanted and I could tell, from the way he spoke about you that he wanted to get in the way of us. And God, we’ve been so perfect together that I couldn’t fathom letting someone take you away from me. 

He was out for a while, and I worried I maybe overcompensated with the sleeping pills and his insides were slowly shutting down. If I had known your shifty ex-boyfriend was going to show up I would have maybe done my research a little better, but things like this never seem to want to pencil in a date on the calendar.

The second time I check on him during the workday, he’s awake. Quiet and confused, but awake. He asks the usual -- where he was, why he was there, if you had something to do with it. And I’m at least polite, Y/N. I answer his questions to the best of my ability and all he does is swear and yell at me. After a while, I think he realized that I wouldn’t be telling him this stuff with the intent of letting him go, which quieted him down. Which is not to say I don’t want to let him out.

“Listen, I didn’t do anything wrong. Please. Man, if you want me gone I’ll leave. I’ll leave to where ever the fuck you want me to go. Just let me out.” 

Even his pleading is in a soft voice. I wonder if he was a good boyfriend or the annoying, man bun and kale type you seem to have been interested in before.  “You just need to wait a while, Arthur. Have patience, it’s a good quality.” But even my sound reasoning doesn’t persuade him.

He’s quiet the next few times I come down, but he takes the fast-food bag I pass him and he eats, which is good at least. I considered asking him about you, but I decided that if he was comfortable and quiet now, it was probably better to keep it that way. Besides, you sent me a text asking if I wanted to come over and watch ‘Friends’ with you. It wasn’t the show I was excited for at all, but the idea of you, and the idea that you thought of me when you were flipping through the channels. 

I give Arthur his supper and then I’m off to you, Y/N. You open your door for me in sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt, and I swear you’ve never looked so beautiful. You smile at me and I come inside the apartment I know you cleaned especially for me and you direct me to the couch, where we settle down and you turn up the volume. 

“I hope you weren’t busy or anything,” You mention offhandedly during the third episode. “I don’t know, I just know you don’t watch a lot of TV but Friends is classic and I thought you might want to-”

“No, no, no, you’re good. I love it. I love Friends.” I lie, gesturing to the screen.

You look at me and I know you’ve read right through my little lie. “Do you know?”

I pause. “No. But I love it now!” 

“Sure, Joe,” You laugh before turning back to the screen and moving closer to me. We’re pressed together like we’ve known each other for years. And we may as well have, Y/N. 

THURSDAY.

I wake up Thursday morning, and you’re already gone. A glance at the clock -- which reads 9:51 -- explains to me that you’re already at work. A note you left me on the table reflects this thought, and I know that neither of us expected me to stay the night. I’m happy to be welcome here in the morning, and I pocket the note before sitting back to breathe it in. 

I love the way your apartment is decorated because it reminds me so much of you. It reflects your personality, from the way things are carefully placed to the way you so desperately want things to appear thrown into a particular spot. Even alone in your apartment, Y/N, you’re trying too hard. 

Last night was perfect, and I think my mind is clearer now. I know what I have known in the back of my mind for days, that Arthur needs to be taken care of. Nothing gruesome or excruciatingly painful, he’s been good enough. I almost hate to do it, but if he sticks around things are bound to go wrong for us. Please realize that I’m doing this all for us, Y/N. 

FRIDAY.

I have learned from my mistakes. I allow Arthur -- or what’s left of him now -- to wait for me overnight but come Friday I know the body needs to be taken care of. 

Ethan is too gullible and I tell him I need to close early to do some inspections of Mooney’s. At first, he asks some questions, but I tell him only simple answers and he eventually leaves. The day as a whole is normal but seems to drag on as the same type of men and women come in to buy the same books, or walk around and leave. The only half-hour that breezes by is our lunch together, where we sit in the same area as always and laugh and each and hope that time will freeze. 

I manage to slip into the conversation a small asking about ex-boyfriends, and you spill the beans on Marcus and Dwayne and Roosevelt, all of whom I know have long since moved on, before you bring up Arthur. 

“We dated for a year, I guess. But then he told me that he had some other life offers to pursue in Nepal -- whatever that means -- and we broke up and he left.” It doesn’t seem to mean lots to you, as you shrug and eat forkfuls of salad. “Then I met this really nice guy at a little coffee shop in New York and his name was Joe, and he worked at a bookstore, and we ate lunch together and have a date on Sunday.”

“Wow, Joe sounds like a great guy. Looks like I’ve got competition.” 

You laughed, the beautiful laugh that I know you try to keep in your mouth but it just bubbles out, and you lean over and bring your hand up to hide it. I have never understood why Y/N. Your laugh is beautiful, but it’s impossible to bring that up without sounding creepy.

But you leave eventually, sooner than you should have to, and I’m left alone again. It returns to the same boring routine, and the closing time comes after a hundred years. Ethan leaves with a wave and a farewell, but I’m already right behind him as I moved to flip the open sign. 

The basement has begun to reek of death. It only gets stronger as I push open the doors to the cage, allowing the smell to come out as I enter in. Arthur has already texted a few of his friends -- douchebags, by the sounds of it -- to tell them that he’s returning to Nepal. He missed it, and he misses the feeling it brought him and his idiot friends seem to accept it. I plan to bag him up -- which is more than vile and I can’t count how many times I throw up or gag -- and bury him in the woods, where the trees are thick and the dead leaves from several years have built up and no one will look. 

The gloves are the smartest choice I’ve ever made. There are things getting on them that I can’t identify and don’t want to be identified. He’s already in the bag -- deep and black, hopefully sturdy -- and I’m on the clean-up phase when I’m startled.  

“Joe?” I hear your voice. Fuck, tell me I’m going crazy. How the fuck do I hear your voice through all of this, unless…

I spin around to face you. It hits me almost instantly-- I didn’t lock the door. How the fuck could I forget to lock the door? Shit, one mistake and now… now this, Y/N. 

Unsurprisingly, you’re stunned. Eyes soaking in everything that they can, your hands already shaking. “Y/N,” I begin, but you don’t give me a chance to talk. A chance to explain myself to you.

“What the fuck, Joe?” You ask, and I know you’re hoping for some logical explanation to pour out of my mouth. And, Y/N, believe me when I say that I wish I had one, at the very least in the form of a crafted lie. “What the actual fuck is this?”

You want to run, but you also want this to all be a misunderstanding, so you stand there, frozen. I look at you, hoping that you’ll look into my eyes and remember how much we love each other, how perfect we are for each other. I hope you’ll forgive me and you’ll throw your arms around me instead, and you’ll know it was all a misunderstanding. You’ll love me no matter what, and we’ll get the happily ever after that you read in your books and crave so much. 

I see you look once more from me to the bag containing Arthur. Your breathing quickens again, the only thing to split the silence at first. Then your footsteps follow, tennis shoes hitting the concrete. 

Life is far from a book, Y/N. I’m sorry this is the point you have to realize this. 

SATURDAY

You wake up in the cage, and I’m already sorry that it has to be this way. You look like a small child, lost in the supermarket with no parents in sight. Sleep is in your eyes, but you quickly blink it out and lookup. For a split second, I think you have forgotten about where you are, about what has happened. 

You tried to run upstairs, to tell the world, Y/N, and I care about you too much to let that happen. You won’t understand this right away, no one ever does, but maybe you’ll have a change of heart someday. You refused to talk to me at first, so I talked to you and tried to act as if everything was normal.

“What the fuck,” When you spoke, your voice was rough from dehydration. I made a mental note to get you a coffee that you might drink, unlike the water glass you had disregarded in the corner. “What, you’re just going to pretend like I’m not in an actual cage, Joe?”

“It’s just temporary,” I assure you hurridly, but I can tell that you don’t believe me. “I’ve never lied to you, Y/N. Please.” And this is mostly true. 

Your voice is getting a little louder,  a little more passionate. “How am I supposed to know that? Huh?”

“Trust me,” I say, and I see an echo of Beck in myself. The thought startles me enough that I shake a little, and you think that I’m shaking because you’ve made some mental breakthrough. You were smart and kept out of my past, you trusted what I told you and never questioned the things I left out. 

 “How?” You ask me, bitterly. “How can I trust you in here?”

I look at you for a moment, our eyes locked. You look sad, Y/N, and I need to remind myself that it isn’t my fault. You could look for the best in this, you could choose to be happy despite what you see to be a bad situation. “You have to,” I beg simply, and I need to go back to the bookstore. I will be back down here, Y/N, I promise. 

SUNDAY.

The door opened with a soft noise, and your eyes follow me as I walked forward, watching you as well. I have nothing to say, but I can tell you’re waiting for me to speak. “It’s Sunday,” So I speak for you, glancing around to try and find the key. “We were supposed to have our date tonight,” I find the key and twist it around my fingers. 

“We still can,” Your voice comes out cracked from crying. “Let me out, please, Joe. C’mon. Please.”

I pocket the key and give you a look. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Why, Joe? Because you think I’m going to tattle on you? I’m not fucking stupid.” You stand up and move a little closer to the edge of the cage. “You made a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes, it’s okay. I forgive you, Joe.”

You forgive me. My hands are trembling and I take a step forward. You forgive me, or so you say. 

“How can I trust you?” My voice is a whisper, and suddenly I’m the scared boy in the supermarket again. “You already tried to run, Y/N. You need to trust me, this is what’s best for you.”

“What’s best for me?” Your eyes water. “What’s best for me? Do you think being locked in a cage is what’s best for me? 

I don’t react. 

“Jesus, Joe, what do you want? What do you want me to do?” 

“I want you to be happy. I need you to be happy.” The words come out of my mouth before I even realize it. “But I need you to be happy in here, at least for a while. If you really still love me, you’ll wait.” 

“I don’t want to wait, Joe. Please. If you love me, you’ll let me out.” 

My hand reaches back for the key, and I’m fumbling with it as I say, “You know I can’t do that.” You seem to have given up with that, but you continue to stand against the edge of the cage and watch me. “Can you sit down? I have to empty out the bucket.” You glance back at the bucket you’ve been using as a bathroom and then back at me. 

You sit down, defeated, and I walk in towards the bucket. This is the most humiliating part of this whole ordeal, Y/N, and I’ll be happy when it’s all over and we can joke about the things I’d do for you. You’re watching me with big eyes that I can hardly look at up close because they’re swollen with tears by now. 

I’m near you, and you’ve gone silent. You watch as I reach down to grab the bucket’s handle, but you very swiftly stick your foot out, and I felt myself falling backward in slow motion. Fuck, Y/N, you weren’t supposed to do that. By the time I can turn myself over to look at you, you’re already up on your feet. Without pausing to look back, you’re making a run for the door 

Now, this is just fucking unfair. I push myself to my feet and stumble after you, and I feel like a toddler who doesn’t know how to walk. I push myself out of the cage for physical support and grab a knife from the shelves. I hope I don’t need this, Y/N, but your persistence worries me. 

It doesn’t take much to overpower you. I’m pumping my legs and feeling the adrenaline pumping through my body. I reach once and miss, almost stumbling but I doubt you notice. The second time I reach, my fingers grasp your arm and pull you back. I have to think fast here, and I push you against the wall to stop you. 

You’re quiet, panting and terrified. If you could, I’m sure you would spit in my face here. I turn over possibilities in my mind, and I must say that I’m not particular to any of them within my control. Shit, Y/N, I didn’t want this to turn out like Candace or like Beck. I thought you were different, I thought that maybe you would understand. 

I don’t want to kill you. Believe me, Y/N, it’s always the last thing I want to do. But I had to kill Beck before, and that turned out fine because I met you. I met you, and you made my life that much better. 

Your eyes flick between mine, your breathing steadies. The knife suddenly feels so much heavier in my hand, but we both know what I need to do. 

I’m sorry, Y/N, but I’ll make it quick. 

#joe goldberg #joe goldberg x reader #you #you netflix #you edit #guinevere beck #love quinn #stalker x reader #creepy #i don't know why i wrote this #i just get so obsessed with shows and movies that i need an outlet #so here it is #what is my life

[blueroan-equestrian]

More to Life

ch.1

I am a slow writer and I tend to get distracted by many ideas that me off topic. Anyway reader saves Geralt after a ruff hunt and when he wakes up he finds himself being taken care of and the two start an odd relationship. new chapters will be listed at the bottom when they come.

I lived outside a small town. I harvest herbs, other vegetation, soaps, goat cheese, and eggs from my chickens to sell in town. I don’t have much but one A-shaped cord at the neck, off white, underdress, and a blue apron dress that has both sides had ties for adjustability. I have my mother's copper broaches that have blue beads and a sun pendant hanging from it that my dad gave her and a nice leather o-ring belt a boy in town gave me that I hang my drawstring bags from. However, my shoe in contrast to the rest of my attire my shoes are falling apart and I had a large piece of scrap fabric for a bandana to protect my hair and scalp from the sun. Sure I could trade the broaches or even the valuable beads for some new shoes, but they are the last thing I have of my family. I use the money from my herbs for what I need to get through the winters while the food I grow in growing times and in freezing times dwindles.

I live alone and seldom have visitors, so when a saddled horse with no rider trotted over caught my attention. “Hey...uh... girl where’s your rider, huh? did you wonder off, or did they fall off?” I reached out to the beautiful mare but she turned and slowly began to walk off stopping to make sure I was following. I caught up to her and walked beside her. She was headed for the woods and while that made me nervous, the horse who saught me out piqued my interest enough to continue to follow her into a potentially dangerous situation. She stopped in front of an unconscious man and nudged him with her muzzle. The man was massive and filthy, “oh girl I don’t know if I can help... well he is still breathing at least. We can’t stay here it’s not safe ... oh you poor man what were you doing out here?” I tried to lift him but he was too heavy so I tried to at least flip him on his back and that was a feat in itself. “Ok, I think I can at least drag him out of the woods, and from out there hopefully wait for him to be a little bit conscious so we can get him up on you and bring him back to my house.”

It wasn’t easy but with time and a lot of breaks, I managed to get him out of the forest before it consumed us into total darkness. Sitting next to him I checked to make sure he was still breathing before smoothed back his hair, “Oh honey how did you get yourself in this situation? I don’t know if we can really wait till you wake now that it’s getting dark... how am I supposed to get you back? I don’t want to hurt you any more than you already are but I can’t pick you up and I am exhausted as it is. Come on you need to wake up.” I pleaded as I softly shook him. To my surprise, he let out a groan. I shoved him into a sitting position before somehow shoving him to his feet and leaning him against the horse. Luckily he has a very very well behaved horse who held still as I struggled to get him to lay across her back. “Ok good job now to get him home without him falling off.”

We head back and once back I pulled him off in front of the door before taking his horse to be tied and watered before dragging him into my one-room house. I took a bucket of water and a washcloth to clean him up the best I could. Before I stripped off my broach necklace, belt, as well as my dress apron and climbed into my bed and fell asleep, exhausted from getting him here.

I woke up early finding him where I left him. I decided I would tend to him a bit more thoroughly than I did before now that I have rested. Slowly I stripped him of his armor and then of his shoes and outer clothes; leaving him in only his underwear. He was cut up, but it was clear from his scars that wasn’t something new to him. “Oh, honey, what has been hurting you,” I whispered to myself more than anything. I slowly I began to wash him up as I did the night before but this time with more care. As I went out for another bucket of water I made sure to water his horse again and move her to a grassy area to graze before I returned and continued to bathe and patch him up. I had gotten to his legs when he began to stir. “Shh,” I cooed as I continued my work, “You’ve have been through quite a bit. You should rest, and take it easy.”

“Roach?” He grumbled with his eyes still closed.

“Hmm? Is that your horse?”

“Yes, where?

“Grazing outback, you are lucky to have her.”

“Where are we?”

“My home, it’s a bit of a ways off from the woods I found you in... what were you doing out there? Everyone knows to stay out of those woods. If you must travel, you go around.” I was practically scolding him.

He began to chuckle but was cut off with a few small coughs, “You went in.”

“I followed your horse in. She is a smart girl, you should be thankful. You must be good to her to have her care about you so much to bring you help.”

“Hmm... that she is. But if the forest is as dangerous as you say it is, why would you, a little slip of a thing, follow a strange horse into the woods?” His eyes are now open watching me wash him.

“I don’t know... she was distressed and I couldn’t ignore her plea. Though getting you out wasn’t easy... honestly I’m surprised we even made it out let alone back here before daybreak. You are a very lucky man.”

“Hmm,” he hummed in a deliciously deep voice that became more and more alluring each time I heard it. I had to shake my head to get a grip of my senses.

“You’re a brave girl... but why are you still washing me? I’m awake I can do it myself... um, but thank you for attending to my wounds and for taking care of Roach.”

“Of course and as I said you should rest... I’m almost finished... though now that your up I’d like to wash your hair, it’s filthy.”

“Do you often undress unconscious men that you find in the woods and bathe them in nothing but an underdress?” His voice was smooth but his gold eyes were dancing playfully.

“No your my first.” I teased right back. “Now I’m going to go collect some more clean water and then we’re going to clean your hair.”

“I’m starving”

“Then I will make you some eggs and grits to eat first.”

He ate the eggs I cooked him quickly and quietly as I prepared to finish washing his hair. I ran my fingers over his newly wet hair working in the soap I make from the lilac in my garden and a base of goats milk from my goat Hanna. He was leaning into my touch with a pleased hum. “SO... Mr.... uh... I don’t believe I caught your name.”

“Geralt of Rivia, and what might your name be?”

“(y/n) of ___________. So Geralt you still haven’t answered my question... Why were you in the woods?”

He opens his eyes and tilts his head back to look at me, “Solving your town's problem... I’m a Witcher... don’t you know?”

I smile at him, “Oh, I see I guess I should have known when you opened your eye... Well close your eyes I don’t want the soap to get in your eyes while I rinse it out.” I had him lean over the bucket as I took a cup and poured water over him till the soap was all out. I used my apron to dry his hair. “Alright, all clean and patched up. Now, why don’t you go lay down in bed and rest? I’ll bring you lunch after I finish my chores.”

“Hn, that’s not necessary. Let me help you, I’m fine.” He began to stand but I nudged him to the bed.

“No, you rest. You won’t heal if you don’t rest. Whicher or not you need to rest. I don’t want to hear anything more on the subject.” I gave him a curt nod before giving him an expecting look.

He heaved a sigh, “Alright, but only because I don’t want to be ungrateful for your hospitality.”

He lays down and I go out to tend to my animals, garden and start on a new batch of soaps. As I wait for the soap to settle, I take some of the vegetables and begin to make a vegetable broth stew. I poured it into two bowls and brought them over to where he laid. He watched me the whole time, and only did he sit up when I handed him a bowl and spoon. I sat down beside him silently eating.

“Thank you... for the food.... and taking care of me. It’s awfully kind of you.” He said in an unpracticed manner.

“You already thanked me for that.” I was blushing like a young girl. Finishing the stew I took the bowl to put aside. “Are you still hungry? Do you need more?”

He smirked, “No, thank you. You don’t need to worry about me. You have been more than gracious.”

I nod before exiting silently to fetch water to fill my small metal basin in the house to wash his clothes. Once it was filled I took his shirt and began to wash it.

“(y/n)... You don’t need to clean my clothes for me, I can do it.”

“I already told you, you need to rest. You are my guest, and I will take care of your needs.”

“Why are you doing this? Most people want nothing to do with me unless they need a monster killed.” he gave me a quizzical look from my bed.

“Because... you needed help and it’s the right thing to do,” I say giving him another nod. Another moment of silence goes by, “Geralt?” I pause to look up and catch his gaze. “Have you always wanted to hunt monsters?”

He raises his brows, “I don’t know about want... it wasn’t really a choice.”

“Oh, have you ever considered changing your path?”

“Never needed too,” He shrugs, “Monster hunting and coin are all I need.”

“Geralt... oh Geralt.... there is so much more out there waiting for you.” I sigh, pausing once more my work.

“Hmm... like what?”

“Like someone to love and love you back. Whether it friends or lovers is up to you. There’s community and games... so much more than just the lone life.”

He looks at me and smiles, “and where should find these people?”

“You can start right here. Whenever you come in the area, you could come see me. We can be friends.” I hummed as I got back to work.

“And if I want more?”

“Then you better stop by a lot and earn it. I’m not a floozy.”

He chuckles, “Never said you were. But thank you for the offer but I don’t know if being my friend is possible. I live a nomadic life. But I appreciate your kindness.”

I finished washing his clothes and move to start on his armor. But he’s up and beside me, “Let me finish I have rested plenty and my armor has sharp parts, I don’t want you accidentally getting hurt.”

I had other work to do and needed to make a run into town to sell my soaps and buy some supplies. “Ok only because I need to go into town. You better be resting when I get back. Even Witcher’s need breaks.”

“Yes ma’am don’t think I want to see your bad side.” He teased. “If you like you can take Roach it’ll be faster and you’ll know I can’t leave.”

I point at him and give him a look before gathering my things, throw on my apron, and trotted out. I have ridden a horse before but it had been a while since I had. But I climbed up and headed for town. It was quicker with a horse and I finished my business earlier than I had anticipated. We go home and I find Geralt collecting water still in his underwear as his clothes were still wet. “Still cleaning your armor?”

He moves to help me down and takes my basket, “Let me get that for you.”

“I am going to make dinner, could you please water the animals?”

“Of course, and sorry for the mess I left. I was just going to wash it up.”

“Oh it’s fine, we can clean up later.”

He walks me in and sets my basket on the table before walking out. I start to prepare a meal with the meat I got in town and Geralt finishes his chore and comes in and waits at the table. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

I smile and move to place the pot into the fire, “Yes, let’s clean this floor up while we wait for our meal.”

“Let me get it, sit.” He works quickly and quietly till it’s done and our meal is cooked. I serve the food before sitting down with Geralt to eat. “(Y/N)... I would like to repay you for your tro...”

I cut him off, “No... there is no need for that.”

“Well, surely there is something you need or something I could do for you.”

“You could take better care of yourself, stay a couple of days, and take it easy.”

“Why are you so hell-bent on taking care of me?” he asked tilting his head and resting his spoon in his bowl.

“Because... someone needs too and I guess I have a strong maternal instinct.” I shrug as I continue eating.

“Hmm that you do... You will make a great wife and a great mother someday.” there is something in the way he looks at me but I can’t quite name it.

“I don’t know if that’s in my cards but...uh thanks. So are you going to stay?”

“Where would I sleep?” He chuckles, “I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but...”

“Are you afraid to sleep in the same bed as me? I’m not asking to be intimate, just offering to share comforts...” I give him a coy smile.

“No, not at all. I suppose I can stay one more night.”

We chat for a bit about his travels before we both crawl into bed and fall asleep. When I wake he is already gone and there is a set of new shoes on the table with a note, “You wouldn’t let me repay you for taking care of me, but you never said Roach couldn’t repay you for taking care of her. Roach says thank you.” I couldn’t help but laugh but I oddly felt sad he had left without saying goodbye.

link to ch 2 

https://blueroan-equestrian.tumblr.com/post/623728280608096256/more-to-life-2

#geralt x reader #geralt imagine #geralt of rivia #witcher #witcher fanfiction

[anxiouslyfred]

Can I Change?

for @dukexietyweek‘s day 2 prompt of Fairytales

Summary: Remus wants to be accepted by all the sides. No matter how much he enjoys playing the villain he still wants acceptance. Virgil is just trying to help with his attempts. They both can’t help connecting Remus to fairytale roles just very different roles

Warnings: ducking out, being ignored, pining (sort of), religious references

Background ship: Mociet

/\/\/\/\

Remus watched a lot more than he acted. He was Thomas’s intrusive thoughts and his creativity, but both those roles only surfaced uses occasionally. In fact he had to watch a lot because he sometimes functioned more like a fire alarm than anything else.

When there were multiple sides all struggling at the same time Remus would start yelling, start flinging ideas from his side of creativity out into Thomas’s mind. Sometimes he’d end up sat giggling in the corner as Roman flustered and tried to figure out what the idea he was being thanked for actually was. It was always gratifying to see his job as Creativity get praise even if Thomas had a fairly unhealthy mindset that only useable ideas could come from Roman and not Remus.

Still, because he just watched so much of the time he wasn’t actively disrupting things to try and get one of the others feeling better he did end up essentially being a villain in the mind space, or one of the Dark Sides as Roman had called them when Thomas finally picked up that there might be more sides of him than he originally thought.

It was always a fun role to play since it worked with the intrusive thoughts he had to bring up when things got bad. There was only one problem with it though.

If you play a villain sooner or later it will cause you pain, whether or not it began as your choice. The words start to cut too deep and you’re too far into the role to stop them without it being seen as more banter or fulfilling the role even further.

The only quick way Remus had seen to escape the role at that point is with dramatics and if Remus knew anything it was witnessing dramatics. Now he just needed to copy everything his brother was known for doing.

Easy.

If only.

He tried ducking out originally, copying Virgil since he was the side Remus adored watching the most.That way hopefully someone would notice and come to find him, finally acknowledge the good that Remus does.

Except Logan had already acknowledged the good of his role, and how it impacted the others. He’d even pointed out the causes behind Remus’s growing and shrinking prominence to Thomas.

Virgil was the only one to notice, appearing on his bed and laying down. Remus didn’t react when he felt the other side appear in his room, already entirely focused on ducking out. That was before Virgil started speaking.

“I wonder if you have notebooks in here of everything you’ve watched happening. I know Logan and Roman would do that. Write their observations or grand stories of each day in journals and save them. Probably even reflect over what different actions suggest about the situations.” Virgil was already addressing Remus as though he was there, but was just staring at the ceiling as he carried on musing.

“Somehow that doesn’t seem like your style. You’ve been doing the watching thing for far longer than can be recorded in the books I can see on your shelves, most of which are more likely to be sketchbooks anyway

“Come find me if you want to share anything interesting you watch though. I could help if you need to sound a concern over something.” He hadn’t stayed long, and almost as soon as Remus was about to pull himself back into his role again Virgil was getting up to leave.

There was one last glance at the room before Virgil left with the words, “I’ve grown used to your stares. I hope they aren’t over.”

Being dramatic by ducking out obviously was not easy.

Remus next thought to play along with the religious films he’d been introduced surrounding, dramatically pray for forgiveness in the middle of the common space, wailing and bemoaning all his wrongs and how sorry he was for them.

“Go to a monastery if you’re going to insist on piety, Remus. We’re exercising self-care tonight not self punishment.” Janus dismissed him, glaring through a facemask.

Beside him, Patton had curled up a little more, biting his lip and looking to Janus for guidance apparently. “Surely we can listen to his apologies and let him calm down with us.” He suggested tentatively.

Janus just shook his head. “Remus goes through phases like this every so often. He’ll work through it if you ignore him for long enough.”

“And usually gets one of us the help we need at the same time as that.” Virgil hissed, having gone unnoticed as he came down the stairs since Remus had carried on praying loudly while the pair tried to dismiss or ignore him. “I think this time I’ll listen to him, but since you’re having a selfish night taking over our commons, we’ll talk in the kitchen.”

The suggestion was enough for Remus to latch onto Virgil, clinging to him like a koala as he went into the kitchen, still keeping up the pleas for forgiveness until he was placed on a counter top.

“If I say you’re forgiven is it going to matter?” Virgil smirked a little, glancing back through to where Logan and Roman had popped downstairs to check if everything was okay still.

“Am I going to be the villain forever?” Remus shook his head, asking his own question. He knew that Virgil accepted him now, the times he’d been watching since trying to duck out had revealed that much. That didn’t help him get accepted by everyone though, especially when he was realising more and more that the ‘acceptance’ he’d thought he had from Janus was more like being ignored or dismissed.

He wasn’t expecting Virgil to peer curiously at him before beginning to scheme silently a little.

“No, you’re just trying to play the role of a villain wanting to be redeemed when really that’s not where you’d fit in a fairytale. I’ll see if I can do something to help.” Virgil decided after a while of thinking, offering a one armed hug before he headed out of the kitchen. “Just remember if Roman invites you to something this week, I’d suggest you accept it. Accept it for me?”

Remus just cheers an agreement, exaggerating the joy at having some help. He wasn’t sure his next idea would be very successful in anything other than making him more hated.

The invite from Roman came only a couple of days later, before Remus had decided on carrying out any more attempts to be accepted. He wasn’t sure just how he’d be accepted by the other sides because of a ball, apparently to find a noble prince of the imagination realm a suitor, but if it was what Virgil asked for of course he was going to do it.

Of course he still had to break the rules a little. The invite specifically insisted on formal wear, and Roman had not so graciously said that his usual uniform would be perfectly suitable for it. Just because of those facts he was going to go in the mess clothes he kept for painting or sculpting or well any creatively messy activity he’d encountered so far.

That didn’t stop the creations in the imagination from letting him into the ball, although it did have Roman immediately trying to make a beeline for him upon entrance. He was interested in how that conversation might have gone down actually, but the music turning into an introductory tune and lights being directed towards the balcony opposite the entrance he’d come though stopped everyone to turn to it.

Remus did slide down the bannister to join the crowd waiting as the doors behind the balcony opened, trying to make sure there was plenty of a crowd between him and his brother. Only then did he look back up at the spotlight on the balcony.

There stood Virgil, clearly dressed by Roman if the outfit was anything to go by. To one side of him was an imagination resident, holding a scroll up. “Introducing Prince Virgil of the Thomasphere! The Kingdom greets all our honoured guests and noble subjects to Prince Virgil’s suitor ball.” They proclaimed, bowing and stepping back to the door with a bow.

Virgil meanwhile had been scanning through the crowd, Remus wasn’t quite sure who for, but as soon as Virgil’s eyes met his the other was trying to hold in snickers. “Kind subjects, I will not hold your hopes up for the duration of the evening. I have already decided who I would like to be my suitor, if he will accept.” He announced, and suddenly Remus had to know where each of the other Sides were in the hall, having only located Roman and Virgil so far. He almost missed Virgil adding “I shall go an ask for his hand first before announcing his name to you all.”

It was easy to locate Janus and Patton, both stood near the band that was set up to one side of the people, just below the balcony. Logan was harder to spot, dressed in more blues than he usually would and blending in among the brightly coloured pageantry. Remus finally spotted him near the base of one set of steps from the balcony, and easily traced the staircase up, now expecting Virgil to be heading down them towards Logan.

Instead Virgil wasn’t headed towards any of the others, all located closer to the opposite set of stairs to the one he was coming down. The closest stairscase to Remus actually and that was the first clue to what Virgil hoped to happen that evening he got.

He didn’t have any time to try and figure out further clues though because Virgil was stood in front of him, letting out a breathy laugh. “Do I have to be fairy godmother and prince charming all at once for you?” Virgil asked, looking Remus up and down once more. “You’re much better at manipulating outfits than I am.”

“If you’re saying my outfit isn’t good enough for this event then it’s only fair you’re the one who changes it.” Remus suggested, throwing a wink his way and still bewildered over being Virgil’s choice. “Does this mean I can kiss and bite at your skin? That we’re dating and I can cling on to you as much as I want to?” The questions couldn’t be held back now Remus had started speaking, however much he wanted to hold onto the moment.

Virgil just nodded to all the questions, falling silent as he concentrated on Remus and his outfit. The transformation came gradually, the paint splatters growing along his arms into stripes, stains from clay dust expanding into a jacket and all slowly merging to shades of greens and browns until Remus was stood in the suit of a Tudor farmer. Perhaps the outfit still wasn’t the level of nobility a royal ball would require but Remus adored it.

“Perhaps no biting unless we’re in private, but yes, we can start dating now.” Virgil was the one to break the silence that fell between them while they took in the outfit. “But first you might want to greet my subjects and just look at the expressions of the others.”

The quiet whisper made Remus turn, spotting Roman looking over at them proudly. Janus and Patton were having a hushed conversation between them, starting off with frowns although by the time they met his eyes they were grinning again, nodding in what seemed to be approval. Logan was the most surprising to Remus, he was watching them with a calculating gaze.

Virgil spotted that at the same time as him, beginning to snicker. “You might watch us all the time but Logan always seems to pay little attention until something big happens and then he has to analyse everything leading up to it and try to figure out if he should have predicted a situation would occur.”

“Enough of that, I’ve got peasants to traumatise.” Remus just cackled, brushing the comment off for now and dragging Virgil up the stairs, all the bounce he’d usually use to alarm people going into his excitement at having Virgil for himself now.

#dukexietyweek2020 #dukexiety #remus sanders #virgil sanders #background moceit

[ladytano-ofthehouseofskywalker]

The Blood of the Covenant (Ahsoka and Maul Teamup)

Oneshot

Warnings: Canon-typical violence stuff, extremely small spoilers for CW season 7. 

Word count: 1000

Author’s note: I can’t get these two out of my head. Their stories are such interesting parallels and opposites, I borrowed some from a theory I’ve seen floating around. Their partnership in this story is not romantic or sexual in any way.

Ahsoka wondered if she would be the first person to be seduced to the dark side with the casual thought “why don’t I just hear the guy out.” 

They had prepared her at the temple to be tempted, by fear, anger, hate. And she had been. When she was young she was quick to act on those emotions. She was still healing from the wounds left by her exit from the order, though it was growing less frequent that she had to close her eyes, take deep breaths and release all of the swear words she wanted to scream at the council into the force.

But this wasn’t your every day temptation, this was a proposition, which, if she was honest with herself, was a pretty high honor. It wasn’t like she’d always imagined, though she supposed now that in her head, it had always looked more like one of the anti-drug PSA holos the temple showed the younglings and not this... plea for a chance to explain. Not that she’d even ever really imagined anyone would one day extend a hand to her that way, it’s not everyone who gets personally asked to join the dark side.

But here she was. And the phrase that tempted her the most was Why don’t you just let him explain? It echoed in her head as the words Maul had spoken about her master echoed in her ears. 

Not Anakin, never Anakin. But hadn’t he just killed someone? Of course it was Dooku… She hadn’t checked on him enough after she’d gone. She hadn’t been able to bear it, she wasn’t even sure he’d want her to. She’d better check on this. Now. Just to be able to safely rule it out. She had better hear…

He sensed the shift in her resolve.

“Have a seat, my lady.” 

Ahsoka looked around. There weren’t any chairs. She sank to the ground. To her surprise, Maul also sat, about 2 meters in front of her. He took a deep breath.

“You think… I’m the right person for this?” 

“The force brought you here. To me. It is your destiny.”

She held up a hand for a moment, silently asking Maul to give her time to search her feelings.

He really was a maniac. Had the force spoken to him, as he said? Had it come to him in his dreams, whispering that the person the arc of the war, of the entire galaxy hinged on was her master? Something rushed within her. She sensed the truth. Her eyes flew open.

She tried to steady her breathing. All of a sudden her heartbeat quickened at the prospect of overthrowing Sidious, rescuing Anakin, ending the war. This was the temptation she’d been warned about. It felt easy now, but it was too good to be true. A romanticization of their prospects at success and their places in the force.

“So you now see the truth, my lady,” Maul bowed his head slightly to her, which… okay. “And you know what is the path forward. The only path.”

Ahsoka had been lost. She had been lost for so. long. All of the darkness she had feltt had brought her strength. All of the teachings she had questioned had brought her new enlightenment. All the chances she took brought her somewhere she was needed. He was right. Every choice she had made had brought her here. 

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

They meditated to form a bond. There could be no secrets between these two who sought to defeat Sidious, they would need to share their thoughts as well as their power. Ahsoka had been surprised he was so ready to show her his mind. She supposed he had almost nothing to lose. And what of her? What did she know couldn’t be shown to this crazy old man?

“This could be extremely painful for you, I am sorry,” Maul said, his popping, gleaming yellow eyes boring into hers, but almost sideways, like he’d forgotten how looking someone in the eyes was supposed to go. “A great deal of terrible things have happened, and you will have to see and feel them nearly all at once. Do you think you’re up for it, Lady Tano?”

She steeled herself and they joined hands, still kneeling on the cold, marble floors of Duchess Satine’s throne room as Mandalore, and for a moment, the whole galaxy, pivoted slowly around them.

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

Still Mandalore. Still the cold marble floors of Duchess Satine’s throne room. 

Her face was soaked with tears. She had seen dark rooms and hurt, and yes, the chancellor. She had seen the eyes of Master Obi-wan, as he had slashed Maul in half on Naboo. Felt a pain so strong, so searing that it was hardly pain at all as he’d fallen. She had seen the red eyed man who had come to him in the dark. She knew of his brother, of his mother and planet and clan. She knew of Gar Saxon and his crush, and the way that, after interrogating Jesse the previous night, Maul had read every piece of intel that had been obtained about her over and over, until he had fallen asleep with her name burning alight behind his closed eyes.

She was practically a child, Maul thought. But forged of invisible steel. He had seen Plo Koon, how she had narrowly escaped slavery herself. He knew of her love for her masters, it burned him to feel such a way about Kenobi but he bore witness anyway. He knew of her teenaged crushes and her green sabers, and he knew the face of the woman who had sacrificed herself so that Ahsoka might live. He knew of her fear and shame, running through the sewers of Coruscant. The way she’d dealt with the Pikes tickled him. The force had chosen well.

Their bond was forged. Lord and Lady. Not quite brother and sister, but maybe. Daughter and son. Born of the dark and light, now each with a piece of the other inside their souls. Before the galaxy had pivoted around them. Now everything ground to a standstill.

#maul #darth maul #ahsoka #Ahsoka Tano #maul and ahsoka #maul and ahsoka team up #mandalore #clone wars season 7 #invasion of mandalore #the daughter #the son #force destiny stuff #why wont anyone let these two team up #fic #star wars #clone wars

[cathwritestragediesnotsins]

Unconventional

Alpha!Daryl x Alpha!Reader

Summary: Y/N fears her feelings for Daryl, thinking he couldn’t possibly want to make things work with another Alpha, could he?

A/N: I made T-Dog and Glenn Omegas for the sake of the storyline.

Word count: 2,641

I huff as I stomp away from another fight with the stubborn redneck alpha. Carol raises her brows in question at me as I march toward the camp, leaving Daryl to go out searching by himself. Again.

“Unbelievable.” I mutter. 

“He’s not the only one who wants to find Sophia! But he acts like he’s got dibs on looking for her or something! Like it’s his job and nobody else’s!” I complain animatedly, taking a seat on the picnic table situated under the tree Carol’s clothes line is hanging on. “Does he really think he can find her all by himself??”

“Goodness knows what goes on in any Alpha’s head” Carol says, shooting me a pointed glance. I give her a ‘you’re-not-helping’ look in return. She just laughs and shakes her head. “Why don’t you help me with this while you complain about Daryl.” she requests.

 I huff in annoyance and then groan in protest, slumping in my seat dramatically before finally pushing myself up and shuffling over to help the grey-haired woman. 

We work in silence for a bit before Carol speaks up “When are you going to do something about your infatuation with Daryl?” she asks.

 I turn sharply to face her, 

“What? I’m not infatuated with Daryl! He’s an Alpha!” I defend lamely. The woman gives me another pointed glance, “Mhm, ok, sure.” she says sarcastically, making it clear she doesn’t believe me. “I’m not!” I insist, movements becoming unnecessarily aggressive as I continue hanging clothes up to dry. 

“Then why haven’t you shown any interest in any omegas? You avoid T-dog and Glenn like the plague since they’re unclaimed!” there’s a long drawn out pause as I refuse to acknowledge her words. She sighs “There’s nothing wrong with two Alpha’s being together...” Carol suggests open-endedly. 

I sigh, avoiding eye contact. “That’s not how it works and you know it.” I argue. “And who decided there were rules to love?” she counters. 

“Woah woah woah no one said anything about love! I am NOT in love with Daryl ok?” 

Carol finally halts her work  and turns to face me, reaching over to stop my movements as well. 

“Aren’t you though?” 

My eyes dart up to make contact with hers at that, lips parting, about to protest.

“Y/N, I’ve seen the way you look at him, like he’s everything to you. It’s the same way Rick looks at Lori. And Daryl looks at you like that too! Fuck the rules!” Carol says, raising her voice and then remembering where we are. She glances around to make sure Carl isn’t anywhere near by before continuing at a lowered volume. “Fuck how things are ‘supposed to work’! If you want to be with him than you are the only thing stopping you.” she encourages, squeezing my hands comfortingly. 

I shake my head, “I don’t know Carol, what if he doesn’t want this? And even if he does what if he changes his mind later? He’s an Alpha, I don’t want to be the one to stop him from finding happiness with an Omega.”

Carol huffs out a gentle laugh, “Have you ever thought that he might be scared of that same thing?” My brows furrow in thought. “No, I guess I haven’t”  Carol nods understandingly, 

“Look, all I’m saying if that if you two love each other why not give it a shot?” Carol says, quirking an eyebrow at me before turning back to the clothes line. 

We continue to work in silence after that as I think about what she said. Could two Alphas make a relationship work? It wasn’t unheard of but it definitely wasn’t a common occurrence and there was a reason for that. 

Could Daryl and I be a part of the small statistic of Alpha/Alpha mating that stood the test of time?

                                                       ~~~

I came darting out of the house the second I heard a gunshot ring out across the Greene’s property, the screen door banging open and closed loudly in my hurry to see what was wrong. I pulled out the knife strapped to my thigh and ran as fast as my legs would carry me toward the group of people in the paddock. 

“What’s going on??” I asked as soon as I was within shouting distance. Glenn jogged ahead of where I could see Shane and Rick dragging a limp body toward the house. “Andrea shot Daryl!” he informed. My eyes widened in panic and my mouth dropped open but before I could say anything Andrea and Dale were running towards us, the former screaming “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, is he dead??” I followed after the duo, getting closer so I could check on Daryl. 

“Unconscious. Ya just grazed him” Rick informed as he and Shane continued marching swiftly to the farmhouse.

“Well look at him, what the hell happened?? He’s-he’s wearing ears!” Glenn cried, gesturing to Daryl’s chest where sure enough walker ears were strung around Daryl’s neck by an old shoelace. Rick quickly ripped the make-shift necklace from around Daryl’s neck as we neared Hershel who was standing concernedly just off the porch. “Let’s keep that to ourselves” Rick mutters as he shoves the string of ears into his shirt pocket. 

“Guys!” T-dog spoke up just then, trailing behind the group and staring in awe at something in his hands “Isn’t this Sophia’s?” he questions, holding up a ragdoll for the group to see. I gasped the tiniest bit when I saw the familiar toy. Rick and Shane stopped and turned, everyone’s faces holding grim expressions as we realized what this might mean. The two shared a look before resuming their current task. “Take him to the spare bedroom down the hall, Maggie show them where it is.” Hershel ordered, joining the group of people following the three men in concern. Maggie nodded and Beth yanked open the screen door for her sister and the trio behind her, Hershel turning and blocking the doorway for the rest of us “Stay out here, I need space to work” he demanded before finally letting the door swing shut behind him.

I ran my dirty fingers through my hair, tugging at it and breathing rapidly as I tried desperately not to break down. “Do you think he’ll be ok?” a voice behind me said and it provided the perfect distraction. Suddenly I felt white-hot anger spreading through my body and I turned on my heel, hair flying as I whipped around to face the blonde woman. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you??” I roared. “How could you shoot him!” Andrea’s expression crumpled as I marched towards her but Dale stepped between us. “Woah, Y/N, she thought he was a walker!” “So?? Don’t make excuses for her Dale! Even if it had been a walker she would have put more people in danger by using a gun but she just had to show off and if she wasn’t such a shit shot she would’ve killed Daryl!” I pushed past Dale and shoved an accusing finger into Andrea’s collarbone. “You and your pride have been nothing but trouble for this group. You’d better get your shit together and under control or Daryl won’t be the only one with a bullet in his head.” I hissed venomously, giving her one final withering glare before stomping off to my tent to calm down

.Once I reach it I shove the flap aside, crouching to go inside and falling to my knees on top of my rumpled sleeping bag. Tears began to run down my cheeks as my fear caught up with me fully. I dissolved into a mess of overwhelming sobs, hugging myself as if to keep from falling apart.

 I could’ve lost him.

                                           ~~~~~~

I roll my eyes as laughter from the dining room filters under the closed door to the room where I’m sitting, keeping an eye on Daryl. I can’t believe they’re out there having a dinner party and pretending like everything is peachy when Hershel expects us to leave as soon as Carl recovers, Sophia is missing and Daryl has just been shot. A scoff escapes my lips. 

“What’s got you all worked up?” 

I jumped a bit, turning to see Daryl peeking at me through barely opened eyes in the low lamplight from the bed. 

“Hey, how are you feeling?” I ask, getting up from my chair to go sit on the end of the bed. I reach forward to remove the cloth from Daryl’s forehead and though he watches me skeptically, unsure of what I’m doing, he doesn’t try to stop me or flinch away. He grunts in answer to my question as I submerge the washcloth into the basin of water on the bedside table and ring it out before replacing it on his head in an attempt to cool his hot skin. 

“You didn’t answer the quest’n” he points out. I huff out a humorless laugh and shake my head. “Nothin’, just can’t believe that bitch shot you.” I excuse. He grunts again, reaching up to feel the bandage wrapped around his head “Knew one of ‘em would sooner or later.” I roll my eyes at his self-depreciating joke, but a smile creeps onto my lips anyway. We’re quiet for a moment after that. I’m too caught up in my own head to notice the curious look Daryl is giving me. I feel myself begin to slowly unravel as intrusive thoughts flicker through my mind. The same thought that has been haunting me all day repeats over and over in my head: I could’ve lost him. My breaths are shaky and quiet and I keep my eyes focused on the floor. “Hey,” Daryl calls suddenly, snapping me out of my trance. I glance up at him uncertainly, trying to gage how much he noticed just now. When I see the concerned look he’s giving me I force a smile. Daryl remains unconvinced. 

His hand reaches for mine that rests on the bed next to his shyly, a silent plea to tell him what’s wrong. I watch his fingers intertwine with my own, loving the feeling of his rough skin against mine. It takes me a couple minutes to sort of the words, and work up the courage to say them but Daryl is patient, rubbing his thumb over the back of my hand soothingly. Suddenly my eyes dart up to connect with his and I feel this undeniable pull. I was so scared. Without warning, I move as if on impulse, sliding over Daryl’s lower legs under the quilt to the other side of them bed and crawl up toward the headboard, curling up and hiding my face in Daryl’s side.

I can feel him tense, knowing I caught him off-guard, but he doesn’t pull away, instead, lifting his arm to wrap around my shoulders comfortingly. Tears flood my eyes again and I whisper, just loud enough for him to hear “You scared me.” I admit. My voice sounds so fragile; vulnerable. But that’s the thing about my relationship with Daryl, he understands that being afraid doesn’t make me any less brave, needing help doesn’t make me any less capable. He takes every part of me without question, respecting me while at the same time being there for me whenever I need him. And in return I do the same. That’s why our relationship works so well, why I’ve never been interested in an Omega. 

“I’m ok.” he finally replies, leaning over to press a delicate kiss to the crown of my head. 

“Don’t leave me.” I whimper, the words slipping past my lips without meaning them to.

“Never.” Daryl replies instantly. “You’re stuck with me for as long as ya want me.” he says, chuckling. 

I pull away to look him in the eye. “I always want you.” I tell him truthfully, the events of today giving me the surge of confidence needed to tell him how I felt. “I want you for the rest of my life.” I say earnestly, needing him to know that, even if he doesn’t want me the same way. His eyes widen in surprise and he studies me for a few quiet moments, searching my features for any sign of a lie. 

“But...what about your Omega?” he questions hesitantly. I laugh, “Daryl, I’ve never wanted an Omega. I only want you.” a small gasp escapes his lips at my words, our hearts both beating wildly in our chests. He reaches up timidly to brush a few stray hairs out of my face. “Are you sure?” he says and I can hear how tight his throat is in his voice. I nod firmly, watching him closely, trying to figure out what he could be thinking. 

“Al’ight” he says suddenly.

I tilt my head, my brows furrowing in confusion, “Alright what?” 

“I want that with you too.” he says, too shy to meet my eyes as he says it. Only when he finally glances up at me does he see the large grin that has taken over my face. A smile of his own makes its way onto his face when he sees the happiness glinting in my eyes. 

Without giving myself time to overthink I lean forward, taking his face in my hands and pressing my lips to his. It takes him a moment for him to recover from his shock but then he immediately returns the kiss, his facial hair scratching at my face pleasantly. I scoot forward on my knees to get better access and he leans his head back to adjust to the new position. His hands find their way to my hips and he pulls me onto him so that I’m straddling his lap while one of my hands smooths up the back of his neck into his hair, tugging lightly. He grunts in satisfaction at the action, deepening the kiss.

All of the sudden the door to the bedroom pushes open, Daryl and I both pulling away from each other in shock to see Carol standing in the doorway, a surprised look on her face. I quickly move off of Daryl’s lap, my cheeks tinting pink with embarrassment. 

“Oh, sorry, I just came to bring you some dinner,” Carol says, opening the door wider and producing a tray. She smirks and sets it down on the bedside table “but don’t let me interrupt. It’s about time you two got together!” she says mischievously. “Carol!” I say, my mouth hanging open in shock at her forwardness. She giggles and dodges the pillow I throw at her. “Have fun!” she calls before swinging the door closed and disappearing from sight. 

“YOU’RE DEAD TO ME!!” I call out after her, huffing and slumping back against the footboard of the bed.

I turn back to Daryl, expecting him to look mortified at the interruption but he’s just looking at me with a small, fond smile. “What?” I question, “Why are you looking at me like that?” “Nothin’, you’re just cute is all.” he replies, shaking his head while the smile still tugs at his lips. I fake gasp, placing a hand on my chest in mock offense. “Excuse you! I’m not cute, I’m an Alpha!” I say, narrowing my eyes at him. He chuckles, reaching out for me and tugging me closer. I give in to his pull, collapsing on top of him, my body draped over his, our legs tangled together and my chin resting on his chest just below his collarbone “I know, and I love you Alpha.” he says. I can’t stop the grin that breaks out on my face, so wide that my cheeks begin to hurt. I push myself up, drawing our faces closer together, stopping with my lips inches from his, our forehead’s leaning against each other “I love you too Alpha”

A/N: I felt like the ending was pretty corny but this has been in my drafts for ages and I couldn’t come up with anything else so here ya go lol

#daryl dixon x plus size!reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #twd #the walking dead #twd reader insert #x reader #norman reedus x reader #norman reedus #twd amc #lori grimes #daryl x y/n #everyone's favorite redneck #the walking dead amc #twd x reader #a/b/o universe #a/b/o twd #posts by cath

[mrallnight57-blog]

The Crystal of Mordokia.

Chapter 11

      Jenny had her arms handcuffed to the arms of a chair. Jack had also found some rope, and had tied her legs to the chair as well. Jenny was still woozy from Jack's attack on her earlier. Through out this entire time, she has barely been able to stay conscious.

     Jack pulled up another chair and sat cadi-corner from her. "You know Jenny, you only have yourself to blame. At first I thought it was kind of cute, you flirting with my wife, but then my mind was awoken, by the power and words of Gothic Mirror."

    Jack stood up and began pacing, and Jenny remained still. Jack continued speaking. "He said you would take everything from me. Not just my wife, but my job, my house, my kids." Jack grabbed the arms of Jenny's chair, and looked her in the eyes. "You wanted everything I had, didn't you?"

    Jenny remained silent, not wanting to give him a reaction. It was true, that she loved Carla, but as for the rest of his stuff. He could keep it, except for maybe the kids he tending to neglect anyways.

     Jack smiled. He realized Jenny wasn't going to give him the reaction he wanted, not until he told her, what he did to Carla.

"At least I know, no matter what happens tonight, you will never see Carla again."

     Jenny's eyes widen, then she made a plea. "Okay Jack, maybe I wanted everything you had. That just means Carla was a innocent victim. Don't hurt her. I take full blame for everything." Last thing Jenny wanted was for Jack to not hurt Carla anymore than he already does. Chances was Jenny wasn't going to make it out alive, so it didn't matter what happened to her.

     Jack laughed, and began pacing again. "No Jenny, she wasn't. That little bitch was planning on leaving me, but I talked her out of it, and convinced her to break up with you. Then I had her, drop off our youngest at my sister's house. Then I told her to come home and have some private time with me, so we could work things out."

    The more Jack spoke, the more nervous Jenny was getting. Finally she interrupted him. "What did you do Jack!?! Mother fucker!!! What did you do!?!"

    Jack got back into Jenny's face, and began yelling at her. "I put a bullet in her fucking head!!! That's what I did!"

      Tears began rolling down Jenny's cheeks. "You're a piece of shit!!! You know that Jack!?!" As Jenny thought about Carla's fate, sadness began filling her heart. She thought, maybe had the two of them never gotten together. She would still be alive right now.

       Jenny shook her head a bit. She had to get those thoughts out of her head. If she survived, she could mourn Carla later. Right now they were other things she wanted to know, before she met her possible fate.

        Jack was still pacing around the room. Seemingly proud of what he had done. Jenny put her emotions to the side, so she could began getting the answers she needed. "Okay Asshole, I get it. You're little pee brain was manipulated by Gothic Mirror, and made you think that I was the root of all evil. Even though I have no idea what that son of a bitch has against me, especially since I just barely met that mother fucker once, before tonight. Answer me one question Jack. Answer me one question before I die."

      Jack walked over to Jenny and looked down at her. "Gothic Mirror has a whole lot of reasons to hate you, but what is your question?"

    Jenny looked up at Jack, wondering what reasons Gothic Mirror could have for hating her, but at this point she needed to know something else. "Why involve the rest of the team? If this was all about me, why have them killed?"

      Jack sat back down in his chair, and began speaking. "Donavan had been looking into some of my recent cases, and found links to the Gothic Lights. He also noticed that I had, either dropped those cases, or I let certain people go. He was beginning to become a problem, and since I had no idea who else knew, or who else might have been looking investigating the same thing he was.  Me and Gothic Mirror decided that tonight was a perfect opportunity to get rid of them.

     This was the first time Jenny had heard anything about Jack being investigated. Truth be told, she should have been the one leading the charge on it, but because she was having a relationship with the man's wife. She had sort of allowed her personal life to become a subtraction. Good on Donavan though, at least someone was looking in on this prick. That was going to be another reason to miss Donavan, now that he is gone.

     Jack got comfortable in his chair. He knew he could tell Jenny anything he wanted, because he had already won. Soon Jenny would be dead, and he along with the rest of the Gothic Lights would be ushering in a new world.

    Jack began laughing. "You want to hear something funny Jenny?"

     Jenny just stared at Jack, not answering him. She learned everything she wanted to know from him, and had no interest in small talk. This just caused Jack to laugh again, and continue talking.

"You know all of your successes, your big claims to fame. Gothic Mirror said the only reason you got as far as you did was because..."

     Suddenly a large crash came from the next room. It sounded like glass shattering. Jack immediately stood up. "Oh shit!!! The blood!" Jack pulled out his gun, and began slowly sneaking over to the next room to see what had just happened.

     The sound got Jenny's attention too, but she was in no position to do anything about it. Did someone sneak in through the window and destroy the tub full of blood, or did the crystal cause the demon they were trying to summon to come earlier than they suspected. Maybe this was the work of that Litias creature they kept talking about. Whatever it was, it was giving Jenny a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Something inside her was telling her, that something terrible was about to happen.

    Jack slowly entered the adjacent room, and quietly shut the door. If there was a intruder in the room. They were not getting out alive. After Jack shut the door, he noticed the tub that once had blood in it was completely destroyed, but there wasn't a drop of blood on the floor, or in what was left of the tub. Then he looked across the room, and saw a very large man looking in a mirror that was on the wall.

    All Jack could see was the man's back. The man was wearing some kind of long coat, made from studded leather. It was brown, and at some point it looked as if someone had tried to set it on fire. It also had tons of holes in it, like he had been in a war. The man's hair was raggedy and long, going down below his collar.

     The man held his hand up, and Jack could see the reflection. 666 was tattooed on the man's knuckles. The man began speaking, but Jack couldn't understand it, because it was in a language the man had never heard before. The one thing that was clear though, was the man was not happy about something.

       Jack pointed his gun at the back of the man's head. "Turn around slowly, or I will blow your fucking brains out!"

    The man ignored him. He continued talking in a weird language. Not at Jack, but at someone else. Someone Jack couldn't see. Jack continued pointing his gun at him, but now he was shaking. His nerves were going haywire, and the only thought that came to his head was. You're going to die!

      Jack was trying to get his courage back. "Look asshole if you don't put your hands up and turn around slowly, I will fucking kill you!"

     This seem to get the man's attention, because the man turned his head slightly to look at him. That's when Jack noticed something that terrified him. The man wasn't human.

     When the man turned his head, Jack noticed that the man had long pointy ears, and pale green skin on his face, but the skin on his neck was black. It almost looked like the man had some kind of infection.

      Oh my God!!! Jack thought. The markings on his hand. The green skin, the pointy ears. This must be a Demon. This must be Widow Maker!

       Jack put his gun away, and got down on his knees. "Oh mighty! King of the Underworld. I am nothing more than a humble servant. Your Majesty!"

     At this point the man had fully turned around, and Jack could see his tattered clothes. Both the man's shirt, and pants appeared to be homemade. They definitely didn't look like any brand he had ever seen. They were torn and ripped as if he had just been in combat, but the skin underneath was completely intact. No scars could be seen.

     The man looked down at Jack and cocked his head to one side. The look he gave Jack was one of confusion. As if he didn't understand what Jack was saying.

     Jack tried communicating with him again. "I" Jack pointed at himself. "Am your. " Jack pointed at the man. "Humble servant." Jack bowed his head, in a attempt to look submissive.

     At this point the man was just staring at him. Suddenly Jack had a strange feeling. It felt as if a large amount of time had just passed. This feeling was so strange, Jack actually checked his watch. He had only been in the room for a few minutes. Jack was about to say something to the man, but the man began speaking. This time in perfect English. "Jack Morner."

     Jack's eyes widen. This strange man knew him by name. Jack slowly rose to his feet. "You... you know my name."

     "Yes I do." The man's voice was calm, almost soothing. It was not at all what Jack thought a Demon would sound like. The man continued speaking. "I know everything about you Jack."

    Jack started stuttering. "H..how. ? Ha..ve you bee..n watch..ing me?

     "No." The man responded as he stared down Jack. "Your soul tells me everything. It speaks to me. It tells me everything you have ever done."

    Jack stood there silently. The atmosphere around him, felt like it was going to choke him. Fear began creeping up his spine.

    The man stared at the markings on his hand again, then said something in another language. Then he looked back at Jack. "So Jack. What does the FBI do?"

       Jack was puzzled by the question. It was random, and he didn't understand why the man was asking him the question. "We investigate criminal activity, and put criminals away."

      The man chuckled. "Yet, here you are. A criminal yourself. With all of his freedoms, still intact."

      Jack was shaking uncontrollably. While the man stared at him. Something felt wrong. It felt as if he was in the interrogation room, back at headquarters, but on the wrong side of the table. Jack tried to speak, wanting to defend himself, but the man began talking again.

     "You took bribes didn't you Jack? You let criminals walk the street, as long as you got something out of it. Then when others had questions, you had them silenced, didn't you Jack?"

      Jack began getting angry, and started yelling at the man. "They didn't see the big picture! And I wasn't going to lose everything because of them!!!"

    "Hmmm." The man was unfazed by Jack's outburst. The man was completely calm. It was as if nothing Jack had done even bothered him. Possibly because he had seen worse, or more than likely, he had done worse.

     "Interesting." The man gave Jack a crooked smile. This was the first time Jack noticed the man's teeth. They were perfectly white, but he had fangs just like a mythological vampire.

     Jack remained silent, but he was becoming more terrified. Even though the man had had not been hostile. Yet Jack felt like something else was in the room. Something that wanted him dead, and was slowly preparing to strike.

     The man took another step towards Jack. "I guess your wife didn't see the big picture either? Is that why you killed your wife Jack?"

     Jack began panicking, a combination of fear and aggravation from the man's questions. Jack began yelling. "That bitch was ungrateful! She.. she... cheated on me!!!"

     The man was still calm. "Why she do that Jack? Maybe it was because you hit her, or the fact you cheated on her multiple times. Is that why she did it? Hmm?"

     Jack was becoming more defensive. "Well... well... It was with another woman!!!"

      The man looked as if he was about to laugh. "Oh no. Two women laying together. So horrifying. The man started laughing, and Jack could tell he was being sarcastic.

     Jack was now starting to lose it. "The atmosphere in the room was becoming colder, and as each second pass, it felt as if death was getting closer and closer.

     Jack began yelling. Why are you asking me all of these questions!?! Aren't you here to help the Gothic Lights. For fuck sake, I even brought you a sacrifice!"

     The man was still calm, barely reacting to Jack's outburst. "Calm down Jack. I'm just looking for some information. I want to be your friend."

     Jack froze for a moment, he realized that was something he had said many times over when he interrogated suspects. The man had been copying his mannerisms.

    Jack looked at the man. "What is this? What is going on?

     The man smiled. "I'm afraid you may have mistaken me for someone else Jack, and I think before we go further. I should clear Somethings up.

     Jack began to notice the man's demeanor change. The man's voice began to get louder, and the smoothness of it was gone. "You see Jack. I'm not a Demon. I'm not from hell. I've never been to hell, but I sure like to go.

    The man extending his hand, and out of thin air a large staff began materializing. On the end of the staff was a giant blade that had an upward curve.

    Jack tried to grab his gun but he was shaking so much, he dropped it. That's when he began begging. "Wait... please! No! I thought you were Widow Maker!!!

     "No." The man responded. Then the man's eyes turned dark red, and his voice became deep. "I'm Billbo!"

    Before Jack could move, Billbo trusted the blade part of his staff, deep into Jack's chest, the impact lifted Jack off his feet and nailed him to the wall. Jack body began shaking as he took his final breath. Jack was dead.

******************

      Jenny was still trying to recover from the beating she took earlier. Jenny began pulling at her cuffs, trying to break the arms of the chair she was in. Since she wasn't at full strength, this was hard to do.

She also thought about flipping the chair on it's side, but considering how banged up she was. She didn't want to knock the chair over and give herself another concussion.

     Jenny could hear Jack talking to someone in the other room. Sometimes she could even hear him yelling, but since the door was closed, she couldn't make out what he was saying.

     Suddenly Jenny heard a loud slam against the wall. The slam was so hard, it caused the room to shake.

     Suddenly the atmosphere in the room she was in began to change. It got colder. It felt similar to when Gothic Mirror held the crystal in his hand. Oh my God!!! Jenny thought. That crystal must have caused the demon to arrive early, and without this Litias creature, they won't be able to control it.

      Jenny began shaking her chair. She was going to have to risk another concussion, because she didn't want to be around, when (whatever made that loud crash), came through the door.

      Jenny's escape attempt didn't last long, because the door to the adjacent room blew open. The door was now in pieces. One chunk flew and hit the wall on the other side of the room. Jenny's eyes widen as a very tall muscular man stepped out of the door way, dragging Jack's limp body. A body that was bleeding out of the chest and back. Jack was clearly dead.

      At first the man was looking forward, but he slowly turned his head, and began staring at Jenny, and Jenny immediately realized, he wasn't human.

     Jenny was terrified. She had never seen anything like him. She also felt the presence of the crystal, but stronger. It was death was all around her.

     The man continued to stare at Jenny, and for a few moments, it felt as time had stood still. Even though the man had just entered the room. Jenny felt as if she had been sitting there for hours with the man staring at her.

     An icy chill went up Jenny's spine as the man walked towards her. Jenny began to panic, trying to get out of her restraints. Once the man got to her, he just stopped, and stared down at her. Then he spoke. "Special Agent Jenny Ramirez."

    Jenny's eyes widen as she heard the man say her name. Jenny wanted to scream, but she was so terrified, she couldn't make words come out of her mouth.

     The man cocked his head to the side. "That is your name, correct?"

      Jenny just nodded. Still to afraid to speak.

     The man stared at her some more. "You became a member of law enforcement after the death of your sister. The people who were in charge at the time, couldn't tell you who killed her. Who killed her family. You wanted revenge. A revenge you never got."

     Jenny was now filled with fear, anger, and confusion. Did Jack tell this man everything about her, or was this some supernatural ability the man possessed. She doubt very seriously that this demon or (whatever the hell he was.)went online to look her up. Whatever the case was, she didn't appreciate him bringing up her sister.

     The man continued speaking. "You did put your quest for revenge aside though, and helped the people of this world. You did everything you could to put a stop to those who harmed others. You were a hero weren't you Jenny?"

     Jenny was still silent, she was becoming more and more uncomfortable. She could since the presents of pure evil in the room with her.

     "Hmm?" The man was waiting for Jenny's answer, he seem to become impatient.

     Jenny just nodded. Even though people have called her a hero in the past. She never really felt that way about herself. The only reason she agreed was because she thought, by doing so, it might buy her a little more time to escape.

     The man gave Jenny a faint smile. "It's a shame you're not anymore."

     At this point, Jenny had no idea what this man was getting at. She figured any moment now. He was going to kill her.

       The man was still standing over her. "You allowed the circumstances around you to get the best of you. You allowed scum like Jack get into your head. He made you feel worthless. You allowed his wife to take up your time, and you even gave up on finding your sister's killer. You're pathetic."

     Tears began streaming down Jenny's face. Those were words that she herself had thought, many times, but she never thought she would hear someone else say them. By hearing them out loud, that must mean there true, and she really was a failure.

     The man was having no sympathy for her, he continued talking. "Look at yourself right now. All your friends are dead. You're strapped to a chair. Waiting to be killed. You are nothing more than a embarrassment."

    Jenny finally had enough. "Why don't you just shut your mouth and put me out of my misery then?"

     The man chuckled. "No."

    Jenny sat there puzzled, she was sure he was going to kill her.

     The man took a step back. "Tonight I'm going to give you a shot at redemption!"

     Jenny's eyes widen. "What do you actually expect me to do!?!"

     The man's demeanor changed, and his eyes turned dark red. "I'm going to kill everyone in this fucking building!" Jenny sat there in total shock. As the wicked feeling in the room intensified. The man's eyes suddenly went back to normal. "And it's up to you to stop me."

     Jenny was shaking uncontrollably, she had never felt such intense presence of pure evil.

    Suddenly the man threw Jack's body on top of her. This caused the chair she was on to break, freeing her from her restraints, but now she had Jack's dead weight on top of her.

    The man looked down at Jenny as she attempted to squirm out from underneath Jack's body. The man spoke again. "That's my first victim." The man then turned and began walking away. He made it to the door that enters the hallway, but he didn't open it. He just looked back at Jenny and said. "I'll see you... later." Then he disappeared 

#supernatural #super hero #horror #my writing

[ssixa]

Chance Encounter//Mark Tuan x Y/N

Description: Walking into the night shift at the hospital proves to keep you on your toes. Nights are left to the universe so you can only hope that tonight will be decent. What happens when you find out that one of your patients is THE Mark Tuan from GOT7? how do you try to deal with the chaos erupting from this chance encounter? and how many times do you have to tell yourself that you love your job?

Genre: fluff, slight cringe

Pairing: Black Fem ReaderxMark Tuan (though I will say there isn’t much description of black characteristics)

Word count: 2.4k

Warning: explicit language, slight nudity 

A/n: I forgot to add that this will be a whole chapter story so if you like the story so far, please look forward to future chapters. Though I would give a specific day I update, life is pretty busy rn, but it will most definitely be every week:) I’m really grateful to the response I’ve gotten off the first chapter bc we all know how hard it is to get any type of interaction on this platform lol. Anyways, please enjoy chapter 2!!

*All pic collages are made by me unless I state otherwise. Individual pictures in the collage are not mine and I give credit to where credit is due.

Chapter 2

Finally done with my rounds! I don’t know how I managed to finish in a decent time, but I guess having most of my patients be up ad lib (medical term: abbreviation from Latin term ‘as libitum’ meaning ‘at pleasure’ and ‘at one’s pleasure, as much as one wishes.’” (medicinenet.com) or to put it more simply, people who are independent or don’t need assistance) or not need anything made it a bit easier to finish. I look at my watch and see I have a bit of time to catch up on the rounding part of charting, before starting my 9pm roundings which just include checking up on my patients. I sit down at the computer and catch up on my charting. Luckily, I didn’t have any interruptions while finishing up so I happened to finish on time with that too. I decided to go ahead and start my roundings a little early.

I made my way from room to room to check on the patients, but I walked in and out of Mark’s room to switch on the sink so the water could get hot and also to see what extra stuff to bring for his bath. He gave me an odd look, but I explained and he just nodded. Yet again it seemed that none of my patients needed anything so I ended up finishing at a good time as well. I made my way to the clean utility and got fresh bed sheets, a gown, towels and washcloths, and a blue bag to put all the used materials and dirty linens. With my arms full, I made my way to Mark’s room. With a few deep breaths, I knock and make my way in. I greet Mark who seems to be on his phone with his earphones in. He looks up at me and smiles and I smile back politely as I throw the materials in the chair and check the water temperature. As I turn around to get gloved up, Mark grabs my attention,

“Hey once you’re done come here for a sec” he says nonchalantly. I looked at him confused, but decided he wanted to tell me something that he was nervous someone could walk by and hear it outside the door. So once I get my hands double gloved, I walk towards him. 

“What’s up? Did you need something” I question. 

“Here’s my phone” he pushes his phone out towards me. I look at him in confusion as he keeps his arm forward.

“Um~ Mr. Tuan, I don’t really know what you’re wanting me to do with your phone? Wait, do you know where you are? Can you tell me your name and birth date?” I question worriedly (a/n: though techs, but nurses, aren’t the ones to ask these questions, these types of questions are asked to patients to check if they are mentally confused). He just keeps laughing and unplugs his earphones while keeping his hand stretched out with his phone at the palm. 

“Since you’re SUCH a big fan of Got7 and more specifically JB, I thought you would want to watch some never revealed videos of him” he grins. 

“OMG REALLY?!? That would really be awesome! Are you sure I can look, I don’t want to be invading any privacy here” I said.

“Well I’m the one offering so it’s not invading anything, just thought you might be interested” he surmised.

“Oh well, don’t mind if I do” I laughed. I went for his phone and all I see is the screen full of JB just chilling in bed. I look at Mark and say I think this video is frozen…

“Oh it’s not frozen, try saying hi” Mark smirks. I looked at him in confusion. It wasn’t until I looked back at the screen that I realized something...this wasn’t a video…

“WAIT THIS ISN’T A VIDEO?!?!” I slightly scream in horror

“Hello y/n, it’s nice to meet you!” JB says from the phone in a tired yet interested voice. I thank the heavens that I’m black and also wearing a mask because I have the biggest grin on my face and I’m pretty sure I’m blushing crazily right now. Looking up at Mark with a glare he tries his hardest not to laugh too loudly, but it’s obvious with tears welling up in his eyes that he’s on the brink of no return.

“It’s so nice to meet you too! This is honestly surreal! I wouldn’t have imagined talking to you in these circumstances though” I say with awkward laughter. 

“Oh yes! Mark hyung told me that I’m your favorite in Got7 and in Kpop, is that true?” with slight shy laughter. Again, my eyes glare to Mark who at this point is as red as a tomato laughing silently with tears falling down his face. I look back at the phone and kept talking,

“He told you that huh? Well it’s true hehe. I was hoping that it would have been kept a secret, but I guess it’s a little too late now” I joke. JB laughs and all the sudden I’m not as mad at Mark for pulling this rude prank on me. To be honest, I wasn’t even mad from the beginning, how could I be! I am looking and talking to an idol I love, who’s barefaced, hair in a bun, laying in bed with a sleepy look. How could I be mad at that?!I’m living the “y/n” life right now!

“Well it’s good to know that my hyung is being taken care of by someone as pretty as you. What are you planning on doing with hyung by the way?” he asks curiously. I’m taken aback by the sudden question, but come to realize that my stupid mind somehow decided to be in the gutter. Frazzled, I reply 

“Oh! I was just about to give him a bath because he’s not allowed to walk according to the doctor”

“uhhh...huh?...Marku…” he calls out to Mark. I realized that what I said probably didn’t make much sense to him so he asked for Mark to translate. My assumption was right when I heard Mark speak up in Korean and talked for a little while JB listened intently. I then heard an “ahhh~” from the phone meaning JB understood. Looking back at the phone, I can see JB’s eyes slightly shifting which makes me question what exactly Mark told him. Looking back at Mark, I ask

“Mr. Tuan, what exactly did you tell JB?” I say with gritted teeth

“Oh that you’re going to be seeing me naked in a few minutes” he smirked. Mark Tuan...I’m going to kill you. In a panic, I look to JB in shock

“I swear it’s not like that, well maybe a little, but I’m just giving him a bath!!” I frantically say. JB laughs jollily at my frantic state, but I feel like I heard him mutter something under his breath, but it was in Korean so I just kinda memorized it to search it up later. 

“I have to go now unfortunately, it was nice getting to talk to you JB” I say happily. He smiles back with a reply,

“It was nice getting to talk to you too, be sure to take care of our Markipoo” he said proudly. I started laughing a little harder than before, who knew they would have a cute nickname for Mark!

“IM JAEBUM I TOLD YOU NOT TO CALL ME THAT!!” Mark says angrily. Before Mark can get any more words out, JB yells 

“Bye nice to meet you!” and I reply,

“Bye love you too!” and the call ended. Wait… did I just tell JB I loved him?!? FFFUUCCKKKKK HE’S GOING TO THINK I’M WEIRD NOW!! HOW THE HELL DO YOU TELL SOMEONE YOU JUST MET YOU LOVE THEM!!! HOPEFULLY HE JUST THINKS IT’S AN AMERICAN THING...BUT I’M NOT EVEN AMERICAN...BUT I WAS RAISED HERE...WAIT HE DOESN’T KNOW ANY OF THAT!!! Maybe he’ll just think of it as a fan to an idol “I love you” not a man to a woman. This shift is not ending fast enough, but I have to be back here tomorrow night too. Rip. 

Mark must have sensed my freak out because he mimics, 

“I love you too” with a kissy face. 

“Mr. Markipoo it would be wise of you not to mock the person working in the health profession, unless you want to make your hospital stay longer” I say through clenched teeth trying my best to hold my tongue. 

“DON’T CALL ME THAT! But ok ok, that was just too priceless. You just made my hospital stay a lot more entertaining” he said laughingly. 

“I’m glad you find enjoyment in my suffering” I say with a huff.

“Let’s just get started on the bath already because being in here I’m feeling more tortured” I say through a fake cry. 

I grabbed the basin, filled it up with the hot water, and grabbed the soap and threw the towels into the water. I discard the top covers onto the ground to be put in the blue bag later. I then relay to him that I would start taking the gown off and he gives me the go ahead. Before fully discarding of the gown he asks,

“Um y/n, do you mind just leaving the gown around more of my private area?” he asks shyly.

“Oh of course! Would you like it placed over your butt as well?” I reply.

“Oh, um, sure if you don’t mind”

I placed the gown around the area and got him to roll over a bit to shove the gown under his butt so when he eventually turned over he would be covered. There is a certain appropriateness that comes along with my job and at this point my head is desensitized to a lot of things, but this is Mark Tuan we’re talking about. These are the abs that he’s shown off so many times at concerts and on lives; the teasing way knowing the thousands of fans watching will never be able to touch them, but here I am. Remembering I’m on the job, I ask the typical question,    

“Would you like a hot towel to wash your face with? And do you want it with or without soap?” I ask.

“Sure and no soap please” he replied. I handed him the hot towel and proceeded with the comments. 

“Since your arms look like they work fine, I will let you wash your upper body while i get your legs, cool? Cool” I conclude myself. Mark just laughed and went along. I gave him another hot towel with soap and he proceeded to wash. 

“No staring no staring” I think to myself. I head for the legs and proceed to wash giving him direction to lift one and then the other. Who knew he had ticklish feet. We wash off the remaining soap and I grab towels so he can dry off. I tell him to turn his body so I can get his back. He does what I say and rolls to the side of the bed. I proceed to wash his back while with another wash cloth he has he cleans his private area. Same as before we rinse off and rolls again, but this time to face me. He was just staring at me until I realized he was washing his butt. I quickly turn around to give him some privacy (thank god for masks) and he pipes up, 

“Why’d you turn around?” with an obvious smirk in his voice.

“Just to give you some privacy hehe, it’s kinda weird making eye contact through this, but just tell me when you're done” I reply surprisingly well. 

“I’m done,” he replies. He finishes drying off and I let him hand me the used washcloths and towels to throw into the used pile of linens. I finished getting the old linens off and new linens on, got the new gown on and discarded the old gown as well. I dump the water out, set the basin aside, and toss the soap into the garbage. I gather the dirty linens into the blue bag, tie the bag up, and push it to sit outside the door. I head to the computer table and tap into his charts to document the bath he had just received. The room is silent and I just look over to see what he was up to. He’s just, staring...at me?

“W-what?” I ask slightly flustered.

“Nothing, just thankful that I just got an awesome bath from my pretty tech” he winked and yet again with that smirk. I think we have a few more vacant rooms in the unit. 

“Alright Mr. pretty boy, do you need me to get you anything? It’s about the next time for vitals.”I relay.

“Already? It feels like just a few moments ago you were here”

“Yeah~ that little stunt you pulled with the video call was mad disrespectful and took up a bit of our time.” I snark.

“Ah~ really? Why do you sound so angry, I thought you would be more excited about it, but you looked like you were ready to murder me” he laughs.

“As much appreciated as that call was, imagine talking to one of your favorite celebs out of blue. Anyone would be flustered at that. I’m just glad that my mask covers my face and I at least have eyebrows on” I laughed sighed. 

“Yeah, I see your point, but I bet you look perfectly fine even without the mask and eyebrows.” he remarks.

“Mr. Tuan I’m really going to need you to stop being such a flirt especially with stuff that isn’t true.” I joked, but meant it kinda. 

“Who said I was lying though?” he deadpanned at me. His expression really caught me off guard so I just kind of shook it off. 

“Um I’m just going to head out and I’ll be back in a little while” I say while exiting the door. Yet another deep breath and like clockwork the same nurse walks by,

“Funny running into you outside the same room, you don’t look ok, do you need any help with anything?” she asked caringly.

“Oh I’m fine, he’s an easy patient but giving baths can be tiresome even with the easiest patient.” I reply laughingly. Not that it’s a full lie though. Bed baths can take between 15 to almost 30 min depending on the patient. Especially bathing a patient by yourself, it’s a bit tiring. Then again, there is no way to explain the heart attack he gave me with the face time to JB that preceded the bath and the look he gave me when I left the room. I just know, he’s dangerous and I’m really going to have to be careful being around this man. Remember y/n, you love your job, you love your job...you love your job.

Previous/Next

#got7 scenarios #got7 jaebum #got7 yugyeom #got7 jinyoung #got7 youngjae #got7 mark #got7 bambam #got7 jackson #kpop smut #kpop fluff #kpop #got7 fanfic #got7 #hospital #patient care

[greenninjagal-blog]

currently vibing in a two-week lockdown, can you share some of your favorite fics? i need some new things to read, and I've got too much time on my hands-

Aw man, same! The rest of my actual Spring Semester got turned online… Let’s see…..Fic recs for the pseudo End of the World (Courtesy of AO3, arranged by most prominent ship!) Keep in mind that my descriptions are shorter and written mostly for comedic effect than the actual fics, so if something looks interesting Click it! Get more info about it! Don’t just take my word! I tried my best to get a lot of variety of fics and topics and tropes, as well as authors that might not be as well known! Uhhh here are the links to lists I’ve already made for various other reasons check out my Fic Rec Masterlist!

I also am including various of my fav authors masterlists for funsies!

jungle321jungle’s || Max-isTired’s || TrashficParlour’s || Lefaystrent’s || Mine!

Completed Fics

A Deal in which Virgil tries to summon a familiar and gets a Circle King instead. And he’s really pretty. (Anxceit)

Love Like You in which Virgil decides to give up looking for a romantic partner and considers adopting instead. He finds more than he’s looking for with a set of twins and the man who watches over them (Anxceit)

A Dragon’s Tail in which Logan is cursed to be a Dragon by his best friends stepmother, Virgil is struggling to learn a power he can’t control, Patton who’d rather marry a servant than the Prince, and Roman has no clue what is going on but the Prince he’s supposed to be saving can probably kick his ass. (Logicality, Prinxiety)

A Game of Vice in which Remus kidnaps Roman and turns it into a game of who can come save him from his lonely tower. (Logicality, Prinxeity) 

double down with the paradigms in which Logan tries to explain away his own OCD while dealing with the emotions he has for a certain Pre-Vet. Excellent depiction of OCD, made me cry, 300/10 would read again. (Logicality, Prinxiety)

It Takes Two to Tango in which Roman begs his brother, Logan, to let him go back in time to meet a famous dancer. Falling in Love was not part of the plan. (Prinxiety, Logicality)

A favorite star in the heavens in which everyone has at least one soulmate. They’re luckily enough to have three each. (LAMP) 

Forgotten Forests and Magnified Myths in which Logan finds out very suddenly that he has the passive ability to talk to dragons. (DAMP, Remilie)

Sense5 in which five people in different countries are suddenly psychically linked together and uh…yeah fun times. (DLAMP)

Stray Hearts Are Subject To Change in which black cat hybrid Virgil plans to die very heroically in an alley and Roman completely messes up that plan by being a decent human being. (Prinxiety, Logicality)

Hidden In Shadows in which Virgil is the boogieman every adult warned you about but he doesn’t actually enjoy being scary. Good thing the three Sanders kids aren’t scared of anything. (Not so good for their very confused Dad who isn’t sure what to do about their new imaginary friend)

Paved with Good Intentions in which the dark sides agree to send Virgil to the light sides as a way to get Thomas to listen to them more. Now if Virgil can just get along with the Light sides enough to actually start making some progress…

Absent Gods and Silent Tyranny or: How Logan Learned to Stop Over Thinking and Love Everyone in which Logan is a morally grey scientist who just works for supervillains because they pay well. He doesn’t expect someone like Virgil to change that.

Series

Clouds and Moss AU in which the sides are gods and its very gay and very good. (Intrulogical, Roceit)

Colors in which Logan is an excellent Dad, Virgil is an amazing son, and the world is very colorful. (Logicality)

Labeled in which Logan is a famous superhero, Patton is a doctor, and they adopt the would-be super villain and everything is soft and lovely and I cry at the purity. (Logicality, Remilie)

Fbi!au in which the sides work for the fbi and I diligently reread these series of oneshots for a daily dose of serotonin!  (Logince, Moxiety)

Growing Old is More Fun with You in which Patton is a PTA dad and so is Deceit and they have a “rivalry”. (Mociet)

Gilded Cage in which Roman is forced to dance for the fairy queen whenever she wants it. (Prinxiety)

Renegades! in which the sides live in a dystopia and fight the government while being completely in love with each other. (Prinxiety, Logiciality) 

Love and Other Fairytales in which a couple decides to keep their changling and their actual son, a child is cursed gifted a voice that makes people do whatever he says, a boy makes a rotten deal for the sake of his friend, and centuries before any of this, a fae prince is tricked into an endless sleep by his brother. 

The Vampire Hunting Vampire in which Virgil was turned into a monster and LPR slowly convince him he’s not as bad as he thinks he is. Through cuddles. (LAMP, DLAMP)

Wasteland, Baby! in which there are things in the woods and Patton gets,,, intimate with them. On purpose! (LAMP)

Destined in which Damian has successfully ignored his Soulmates for five years and he planned on doing it for much longer but on his twentieth birthday fate intervenes with a second soultrait that forces him to come face to face with all of them. (DLAMP)

Old Gods in which Gods sometimes walk the earth and Remus is pleased to hear that people are still making offerings to him– wait that is not a goat. And other fun stories!

Sit back and watch the world go by in which Virgil is a human abducted by alien smugglers, befriends Patton, breaks out, and everyone fears humans as space orcs, almost as much as Virgil is afraid of them. 

Teaming the Pieces Together in which Thomas is a pokemon trainer and eevees just…click with him.

Tales from the Dark Sides in which the author provides a lovely hub of works where Virgil is abused by OC dark sides and DLMPR are there to help patch him up.

Uncle Emile and the Super Nephews in which Emile gets custody of his six nephews and tries to bond with them. They in turn try very hard not to tell him they have superpowers.

Cuffed Universe in which Remus is a cop chasing after a hacker, Logan breaks the laws and Virgil would just like tO KEEP ONE JOB WITHOUT ONE OR BOTH OF THE OTHERS DRAGGING HIM INTO THEIR SHIT. (Analomus)

Ongoing Fics

The Origin in which space travel via Thomas Sanders’s ship SS Revelation gets more complicated when the Planets themselves turn out to be entities who aren’t all on board with humanity spreading to the rest of the solar system. (Remile) 

Delicato in which Logan and Patton are music professors with very different conceptions of music, and Virgil and Roman are students in both their classes who just want them to kiss already. (Logicality, Prinxiety)

Coming out of The Shadows in which a small mutant child Virgil is treated as subhuman because of his uncontrolled ability to manipulate shadows up until a scientist buys him. (Royality)

Falling Stars At My Command in which Roman wishes on a star and Patton reaps the benefits while Logan unfortunately gets dragged along for the ride. (Royality) 

Sugar in which Patton has three sons and no free time to bother with a relationship while he’s trying to manage bills. At least until Roman walks into his life. Sugar Daddy anyone? (Royality) 

A Man, a Snake, and a Rat in which Logan, Deceit, and Remus become college roomates (Intruloceit) 

a.s.h.es, ashes (We all fall down) in which after Logan almost dies during one of his recuse missions, him and his partner start to dig into the superhero agency they’re employed by and stumble into something far bigger than they expected. (Logicality, Prinxiety, LAMP? LAMP)

Keep him safe in which Detective Logan falls for the owner of his new favorite bakery while his partner Roman falls for the gang member they’re chasing. Ft: emotions, a pet rat, dealing with delusions 101, trauma, and family so gooey it literally makes me melt whenever it updates. I love this fic so much. (Advertises as Logicality and Prinxiety but theres so much LAMP I can’t not put it down here)

Multitudes in which Virgil works at a coffeeshop, pines over the customers that come in, and wonders why they all tip him so well. (LAMP)

Songbird in which the only thing keeping Virgil’s parents alive is his voice: the moment the (new) King gets tired of listening to him its off with all their heads. And Virgil’s okay with that, he is…. Until three visiting nobles leaving him wishing for his freedom for the first time since he was ten. (LAMP)

Shatter in which Logan gets fed up with not being listened to, and takes some poor advice from Rage, which ends with the entire Mindscape being turned upside down and inside out. Now its up to Deceit fix it all. (aka the author decided it was about high time Deceit got some love and appreciation and I’m out here living for it.) (DAMP)

Incredible Cosmic Power in which Virgil awakens some genies by accident and they refuse to let him go back to living a relatively normal peaceful life. (DLAMP)

Plea for my New Self in which Vampire Virgil decides he wants to start over again, and goes back to college to work on coding. There he proceeds to do reckless good with his absurd amount of wealth and a “fuck it” attitude. Actually one of my favorite things ever okay. I love this one so much. (DLAMP)

Your Wish Is My Command in which Thomas accidentally rubs six lamps and becomes the glorified babysitter to six jinn who definitely don’t trust him. But its fineeee. (DLAMP)

6 Dads in which Deceit, Emile, Remus, Roman, Thomas, and Remy make a relationship work and their children aren’t sure how but go along with it anyway.

Rebel Rebel in which Thomas, a well respected man, visits the Imagination, for some pleasure business as a one time thing. Except that he keeps coming back. Maybe maybe falls in love with one, two, thr– all of the men who work there. 

A New Kind of Experiment  in which Virgil runs away from home, and ends up kidnapped by merman, and somehow he doesn’t mind that much.

Becoming His Own Hero in which everyone has to juggle their superhero lives with their regular lives and sometimes…its just hard.

don’t wanna be a tragedy in which brothers Roman and Remus get a house and subsequently find out its totally, completely, 100% haunted.

Don’t You, Forget About Me in which the author recreates Breakfast club and does it spectacularly.

Heart’s Heroes in which Patton may be a villain but that does not mean he wants to see the child heroes of the city dead.

Mortals and Fae in which Deceit barely escapes the wrath of his town when they all turn against him. Dying, he stumbles into a fairy circle hoping that with his name the fae make his death short and sweet. Big Shock for him when he wakes up with a Fairy Prince swearing to protect him.

Sanders Family in which Thomas adopts six kids and has no regrets about it.

How Not to Go About an Important Inspection in which after a devastating betrayal the crew of the USS Bifrost is docked for repairs and the crew just wants to go back to being a normal family but Command is insisting on an inspection to ensure nothing so…drastic occurs again.

Symbiotic in which certain Vampires have a vemon that leaves with victims craving getting their blood drunken. Deceit, one of these Victims, continues to burn bridges because that’s easier than admitting he might need help dealing with this. 

#greengabs #fic recs #Lockdown 2020 list #god this took me like eight hours to put together #I hope this helps

[winchester-fantasies]

Until My Dying Breath

Summary: The Mark has changed Dean and taken its toll on him and your relationship. Will you ever come back to him?

Word Count: 2841

Warnings: angst, swearing, smut, fluff

Pairing: MOC!Dean x Reader

Winchester Fantasies’ Masterlist

     The first thing he noticed through the haze of sleep was the quiet. It was deafening. He rolled over, his hand reaching to the other side of the bed - her side. It was cold and empty.

     He jerked out of bed and fumbled for the lamp. The room was flooded with light, and he squinted against it, silently cursing as his eyes struggled to adjust. He glanced around the room desperately, trying to find something, anything to indicate she was still there.

     Finding nothing, he jumped out of bed and practically ran down the hall, silently praying she’d be sitting in the library doing research as she so often did. She always said 2:00 a.m. was her hour of inspiration.

     Panic took over when he found the library dark and empty. He hurried to the kitchen, flipping on the light and searching wildly even though he already knew she wasn’t there.

     His eyes fell to the counter, settling on a piece of paper. He picked it up with trembling hands. It was a note - a simple one: “I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

     “Son of a bitch!” he shouted, pounding his fist on the counter. He swung around, jerking pots and pans from the hooks over the island and throwing them against the wall, each one making a dent. He shoved bowls, plates, and cups off the metal shelves, the ceramic shattering on the concrete floor.

     He leaned heavily against the island, his breathing labored. His heart beat hard as rage pumped through his veins. He glanced down to the Mark on his arm, angry and red. He wished he could take his knife and carve it out of his skin. But this godforsaken Mark wouldn’t let him.

     He had warned her it would change him. She reassured him she could take it. He told her to leave. She had stayed. He promised he’d never hurt her. She had believed him. Now she was gone.

     “Dean?” Sam’s voice broke through his thoughts. “You okay?”

     “She’s gone,” he choked out.

     “What? Why?” Sam asked incredulously.

     Dean shoved the note into his brother’s hand. Sam’s eyes roved the paper, his lips silently mouthing the words. He frowned and turned it over. Finding nothing on the other side, he looked back to Dean, confusion written on his face. “What is this about?” he asked.

     “What do you think, Sammy?” Dean barked, motioning to his arm.

     “The Mark,” Sam stated as if it weren’t already blaringly obvious.

     Dean ran his fingers through his hair roughly. “Fuck, I knew this would happen,” he lamented gruffly.

     “What exactly did happen?” Sam asked, still not entirely following.

     “I…. Fuck, Sam! I hurt her!” Dean shouted.

     Sam’s eyes darkened. “How?” he asked, his voice low.

     “I…we were in the library. She…she said something that really pissed me off.” He let out an angry chuckle. “I can’t even remember what she said. Shows just how petty I was being.”

     His face hardened. “I hit her, Sam. I hit her hard. She was bleeding. And crying. I…I couldn’t stand to see her cry so I left her alone. I didn’t even try to apologize or see if she was alright.” He looked to Sam, his eyes wide with anguish. “What kind of boyfriend am I, Sam, that I don’t even check to see if my girl is okay?”

     “Not a very good one,” Sam said. Dean flinched at his brother’s brashness, but he didn’t argue. He knew Sam was right.

     Dean groaned as he leaned against the island again, his forehead resting on the cold metal surface. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do without her, Sam,” he said in bewilderment.

     “Just give her a few days. She might just need some time to cool off,” Sam said. Sam was always the peacemaker, and the one who saw the good in every situation. Normally Dean found comfort in his brother’s encouragement. But this time Dean found little solace in his brother’s words.

     Dean shook his head. “I don’t think so. It’s too late.”

**********

     Two weeks. Two long, agonizing weeks. That’s how long she’d been gone. Sam had tried to track her phone, and they had even used Bobby’s old tracking spell. When neither of those worked, they turned to Cas. But even that turned up nothing. It didn’t surprise him that she knew every move in the book. Dean had taught her well.

     He leaned back against Baby’s hood, her cold metal matching the iciness in his heart. He raised the bottle to his lips and took a long and generous gulp. The whiskey strung on the way down, but it was nothing compared to the ache in his heart.

     He threw the bottle to the ground, and the glass shattered against the rocks that sat only a few feet away. He looked around him, at the wide open field before him, the forest that sat on either side of him, the cloudless sky and the moon that hung low. This was where they had first consummated their love, where they both realized the passing brushes and lingering glances were more than casual flirting, more than just friends.

     He took out another bottle and chugged. His head was buzzing and things were starting to get a little hazy, but it didn’t matter how much he tried to drown himself in alcohol. Nothing seemed to numb the pain.

     He thought he had loved Cassie and Lisa. He really did. But nothing could have prepared him for this. This was on a whole ‘nother level, one so deep he was finding it hard to swim or make sense of anything. She was his life preserver, and the one light that shone in the shit show that was his life. But without her, he didn’t know if he really wanted to live.

     He took out his phone and fumbled with the screen. He pulled up her name, and his heart seized up when he saw her caller ID. She was so beautiful. She was always so insecure and critical of herself, and no matter how many times he tried to convince her otherwise, she never fully believed him. But she would always be the most beautiful and precious treasure to him.

     His fingers hovered over the call button. Should he? Sam would probably tell him no. That she needed space and that he’d only be complicating things. Well, to hell with space!

     He hit the button and raised the phone to his ear with trembling hands. It rang one…two…three times. He began to lose his nerve. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Just when he was about to give up there was a click on the other line.

     “Hello?” she said, and his breath hitched. Her words were unceremonious and monotone, but her voice was about the prettiest sound he’d ever heard. He wasn’t even sure what to compare it to. Maybe like that symphony she’d shown him that one time or maybe like the gentle rain that fell around them when they had shared their first kiss.

     He must have remained silent too long because she sighed heavily. “Dean, I’m hanging up.”

     “No, no, please!” he begged. At any other time he would have kicked himself for sounding so needy, but right now he didn’t give a damn how he sounded. He needed her to know how lost he was without her.

     Silence met his plea, and his stomach dropped. Had she hung up anyway? “(Y/N)?” he whispered, hoping against hope that he was wrong.

     “What do you want?” she asked bluntly, and relief washed over him.

     “I…I don’t know,” he said.

     “Then there’s no reason to stay on the line,” she stated.

     “Wait!” he demanded, his voice ringing out in the open air. “Can…can we talk?”

     She didn’t answer, and he was almost certain she never would. But then she sighed. “Not on the phone,” she said. “Meet me at that little coffee shop outside of town. The one with our favorite pie.” His heart leapt at her use of the word ‘our.’

     “The place where we had our first date,” he said softly.

     “Yeah,” she whispered, and he could have sworn her voice quivered just a little. “Be there at 10:00 tomorrow,” she said quickly before hanging up.

**********

     He walked into the coffee shop, requesting the table near the back. He ordered coffee before he settled back in his chair. She hadn’t arrived yet, and he kept bouncing his leg as he waited impatiently.

     He took a sip of coffee and pulled out his phone, opening the file Sam had sent him. Maybe if he read up about their new case, he wouldn’t be such a basket case when she finally did arrive.

     He was two pages in when the bell over the coffee shop door tinkled. He looked up, and his heart nearly stopped. There she was. Just as beautiful and radiant as ever.

     Her eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on him. He sent her a half-hearted smile, but she didn’t return it, instead casting her gaze to the floor. She walked over to the table, her shoulders slumped. Anguish and self-loathing filled his mind as he realized he was the cause. He was the reason she was so broken.

     “Hey,” he whispered as she settled down across from him. She looked up at him. Her eyes were red and bloodshot like she’d been crying too much, and if the dark circles under them were any indication, she hadn’t slept in days.

     “Hi,” she rasped. Her eyes were down again. She played with the strings on her hoodie absentmindedly, feigning interest in the slightly worn out tabletop.

     “You hungry?” he asked.

     She shrugged. “Not really,” she said, but he doubted it was true. Her face looked a bit thinner, like she hadn’t eaten properly since she’d left. She probably hadn’t. She was always so selfless. Always putting him and Sam first, forgetting about herself and her own needs. He’d always have to remind her to eat and drink. But he didn’t press her this time. He’d make sure she was taken care of right after they took care of the elephant in the room.

     “I’m really sorry about the other night,” he said, wasting no time in getting right to the point. She appreciated transparency and despised when people beat around the bush.

     She looked up at him again. His eyes searched hers, but her face was unreadable. “Me, too,” she breathed.

     He frowned. “There’s no reason for you to apologize. You did nothing wrong.”

     A tear rolled down her cheek, but she quickly swiped it away, almost as if she didn’t have the right to feel hurt. “I made you upset. I promised I’d be there for you; help you through this. I just wanted to be your comfort, Dean. But I only made things worse for you.”

     His heart nearly broke that she felt so responsible for what happened. She looked down again, but he reached across and took her hand. She didn’t hold it, but she didn’t pull away.

     He squeezed her hand gently. “Look at me, (Y/N),” he whispered. He swallowed past the lump in her throat when her eyes met his once more, hurt swimming in their (Y/E/C) depths.

     He forced a smile. “Listen to me, and listen good. None of what’s happened the last few months or the other night was your fault. None of it,” he emphasized. “It’s all me. It’s all because of this god-damned Mark!” he spat out. She flinched at his tone and quickly withdrew her hand from his, shrinking back into the chair.

     Where was the badass and fiery hunter he knew? Wherever she was, this wasn’t her.

     “I know the Mark hasn’t taken a toll just on me, but on you, too,” he said quietly. “But, baby, I don’t want us to give up. I want us to keep fighting this, and fighting for each other. I don’t want you to give up on me,” he said desperately.

     Her eyes shot up to meet his, piercing his very depths. He caught a glimpse of the fighter he loved so much as her eyes flashed. “I’ve never given up on you, Dean!” she stated, her voice cracking from the exertion of trying to maintain control of her emotions. “And I’m not about to give up now!”

     “But, Dean,” she said, sobering. “I can’t stay with you if you’re only going to keep hurting me.”

     He looked to the table. What was he supposed to say to that? He couldn’t promise he’d never hurt her again. He placed his hand on his forearm, heat from the Mark penetrating his heavy jacket and flannel. He couldn’t promise anything when this thing dictated his every emotion.

     “I can’t promise that,” he breathed. She nodded, her eyes welling with tears that she tried hopelessly to hold back. “But I promise I’ll try,” he said, desperate to give her something to hold on to.

     “Everyday is a battle,” he continued. “But it’s one I’m willing to fight if it means I’ll have you by my side. With you, everything makes sense. You’re the missing piece that keeps everything in alignment. You’re the only thing that makes sense to me anymore, (Y/N). And without you, I’m not sure that even the Mark could keep me alive.”

     “Dean,” she said, her voice trembling. “To try is all I ask.” She reached across the table and took his hand, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles. And for the first time since she’d walked inside, he saw her smile.

**********

     Before either of them could really register what was happening, they were in a motel room. He had her pressed against the door while he kissed her needily. If felt like months since he’d seen her even though it had only been weeks, and his hunger for her was insatiable.

     Her hands wound around his neck as his fingers fumbled with the button on her jeans. He pushed them and her panties down in one fell swoop, and she quickly stepped out of them, kicking them into the corner.

     He placed his knee between her legs, spreading them wide, and she bucked against it, moaning as his jeans made contact with her sensitive clit. He removed his leg, replacing it with his hand. His fingers slid past her swollen bud and dipped inside, coating them with her wetness. She shuddered as his fingers briefly touched her sweet spot, and she gasped when he began to stroke her clit. Within moments she was cumming, his name a prayer on her lips.

     She was breathing hard when he captured her lips in his own. Her hand found his throbbing erection, and he bucked into her palm until he was on the precipice of release. “Need to be inside you. Now,” he panted. She nodded and released him. He turned her around and started backing her up towards the bed. But they never made it.

     Her hands gripped his shoulders, and her back rubbed roughly against the stained and mildewy carpet as he pounded into her relentlessly. Her walls were a soft cocoon of velvet, and he wondered if someone could die from ecstasy.

     His hands found her legs, cupping the underside of her knees and bringing her legs around his waist. The new position afforded him a better angle, and he knew he’d found her sweet spot as she arched her back and moaned, the sound breathy and wanton.

     “Almost. There,” she breathed, and he pressed on harder and more ardently. He was determined to show her how much he needed her, how much he loved her.

     She came hard, her walls clenching around him, his name a cry of praise on her lips. Her legs shook as he came inside her, his warm seed filling her to the brim.

     He fell on top of her, his head coming to rest in the crook of her neck. He whispered a litany of sweet nothings while her hands paved trails over his sweaty back and up his neck, fingers weaving through his hair.

     He pulled out once he was limp, and he got up, his legs shaky. He picked her up bridal style, carried her to the bed, and laid her down gently. He placed a soft kiss to her brow before going to the bathroom. He returned with a damp cloth, and he cleaned her up with tender ministrations.

     He tossed the cloth into the corner before climbing into bed, pulling the blanket over them both. He snuggled under the covers, pulling her close to him and giving her a loving kiss.

     She laid her head on his chest, her fingers brushing his skin while his stroked her hip. His eyes grew heavy, and he was on the verge of sleep when she spoke, her voice quiet but strong. “I’m going to fight, too. For you. For us. Until I can’t fight anymore. Until my dying breath.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading!

***Please do not share my content on any other platform without my consent.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #supernatural fanfiction

[tksfandomhellhole]

totally didn't just give up on the tumblr app and boot up my laptop just to post this

Fandom: Apex Legends (Video Games) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Mirage | Elliott Witt Summary: 

Mirage is his own biggest fan, because he knows no one else will be.

Mostly an introspective/character piece I did a few weeks back for Mirage and lowkey a plea for buff (which is finally happening!!) Caustic is technically there as well.

Mirage would be elated if you told him that you'd find his picture if you looked up "Self-absorbed" in the dictionary. The idea of negative press doesn't exist to him.

Or at least that's what he tries to make it seem like.

So it would come as a surprise to most that perhaps the most egotistical and self-absorbed of the Legends does not check the ratings or read the comments on any forums about the games.

In fact, aside from hanging fanart on the walls, he keeps any fan letters in a box under his bed only for days where he's at his worst.

(He tends to have a lot of those)

Because the reality is, Mirage is his own biggest fan.

If he wasn't, who else would be? He's certain it's no one.

Growing up the youngest of four boys, it was easy for Elliott to internalize a lot of things that his brothers didn't really mean.

One of those things was that being the youngest made him the weakest.

When his brothers went off to fight in the Frontier War they told him he had the very important job of staying here and watching over their mom. He knew it was just a way to make him feel better about not being able to fight the good fight. That once again he was being excluded because he was the youngest.

It didn't really make him feel that much better when the war was still going on and he was sitting at home feeling useless.

And it definitely didn't make him feel any better when they were reported MIA once the war ended. That now he'd never get the chance to prove himself. That he had stayed at home, useless, while his brothers had fought and lost their lives.

Elliott hates being useless.

Unfortunate that his curse of uselessness seems to have followed him into the games, the one place where he thought he could finally prove himself.

Most of his teammates wouldn't guess it, but Mirage actually brings his 110% to every game.

Problem is, his 110% is not even 70% of some of his more skilled teammates.

And when everyone besides you brings something valuable to the table, you have to hide your inadequacies behind self-deprecation and humor.

Today he's the jump master and the pressure to not make a shit landing might already be getting to him a little. "Just a thought, we could land here." He throws out, trying to gauge his teammates' reactions to the spot. Annnnd dead silence. Great. He takes their silence as confirmation and launches anyways.

"Follow the leader! Or don't- do whatever, as long as we win."

Of course, suddenly his teammates find some other spot far more interesting than the one he pinged, and take that as invitation to silently break off.

He lands on his own and loots as quickly as possible. By some stroke of luck, it's not an active spot, and he gets the drop on an enemy Lifeline.

"Nobody had your back, huh? Hate when that happens." He tells her, irony not lost on him.

He loots her stuff as quickly as possible and drops out, hoping to avoid any smoke from her teammates.

"I'm down!" He hears Wraith say over the comm lines. He takes a look at his map and finds she's none too close to him.

But what is Mirage, if not at least a good teammate, even at the cost of biting off way more than he can chew?

"Uhhh, okay, don't panic, I'm coming to save you." he says with what feels like is becoming his trademark uncertainty.

He makes it all of thirty yards before the squad from earlier runs up on him, and two of them against two of him doesn't work out in his favor. "Bad news, I'm down!" He says over the comm line, using the few extra seconds his knockdown cloak buys him to inch his way into a corner out of sight. Another squad joins the fray, and the first squad ignores him in favor of not dying. He watches the firefight go down suddenly regretting his choice of words earlier. He'd much rather his team all be in one place right now.

To his relief, he can see on the map that Caustic seems to have made his way towards Wraith's now banner and recovers it.

He's not too optimistic about his own outlook though. Caustic is not the fastest legend and there's still a sizeable distance between them.

There's also the fact that Caustic has no real reason to come recover him anyways.

Mirage isn't the worst shooter in the game, but he's no Bangalore. And he's no Pathfinder, no Crypto, no Gibraltar- hell even Revenant at least deploys a death totem that he doesn't care who uses.

No he doesn't do any of the things that everyone else does. He's just another- or well several- pretty faces for people to shoot at.

And he tries, he really does. He keeps an eye on everyone's shields and weapons, keeps an eye out for useful equipment, revives and respawns teammates as soon as possible, but deep down he knows it isn't good enough. There's no advantage to teaming with him. And if there's no advantage, it means anyone stuck with him is at a disadvantage.

When he first joined the Apex Games, the last thing he was worried about was the other people. He was used to looking out for himself- he had already learned the hard way that he was the only person who'd care about what happened to him outside of his mother. So he outfitted himself with his holo-tech and did his best to make a name for himself in the games. He didn't realize at the time how integral teamwork would become, and how lacking that in turn made him.

No matter which way you flip it, all he is good for is eating bullets.

He wants to improve his holograms in some way, but he's no Wattson, and he didn't inherit any of his mother's genius. So instead he tinkers with an old holo-suit every weekend trying to figure out a way to make the modifications he wants a reality. Instead he jokes about how bad he is at this while putting in extra hours at the range whenever possible. Instead he enters combat with the confidence of a seasoned pro and none of the skill to back it up.

Self-absorbed, self-serving, and insufficient. Well aren't I just the greatest person to have on the team? Mirage thinks loathingly.

Maybe it's more fitting if he dies here alone, nothing but fakes to back him- the biggest fake of them all- up. Maybe he was wrong to think he could really be a Legend, much less a champion.

As his eyes begin to cloud over, he's ready for death's cold embrace yet again.

Instead, someone's shoes are in front of him now, and a muffled sigh of discontent is heard as a hand on his shoulder pushes him backwards gently and he's suddenly jabbed.

He really doesn't know when Caustic got here, but he expresses his thanks as Caustic pulls him to his feet.

"Your gratitude is acknowledged, let us move now before the ring comes in." The remnants of the earlier fight are still here in the form of half looted deathboxes, and he has to scour through some of those for some heals and ammo before they move on.

It's looking like the respawn beacon they were heading for won't be in the next ring, unfortunately for Wraith, so they cut their losses and head to the center.

They encounter another two or three squads, and one rambunctious Octane along the way, Mirage continuously finding himself downed in increasingly ludicrous ways.

"I've been observing... I hate to be the first person to break it to you, but I dont think you were really made for these kinds of games, Witt." Caustic confesses, while reviving Mirage for the 4th time.

He just sighs. "Yeah... yea, I know."

"So then why do you do it? Why the masochistic endeavor of placing yourself in an environment where you are the weakest link?"

"Wow, ok, little harsh there." He says, pride hurting more than the injection site of the syringe. "I just... want someone to remember me. And I guess I thought, 'What better way to be remembered than dying in the most glorious bloodsport of our generation?"

"A foolish sentiment. Life is insignificant; why not accept your fate?"

"Listen, I don't have to explain myself to you." Mirage says, a little defensive, and more than a little annoyed.

"Have it your way. Your incredible knack for narrowly defying death has provided me an insurmountable amount of data. So much to notate..."

"Glad to be of service." Mirage mutters bitterly.

Mirage does feel a little stupid when he compares his reasoning to other people's. It's not noble or some part of a larger plan. He isn't searching for answers. He isn't doing it because he has to. He isn't even being straight about it and just acting out of boredom like Octane or Revenant.

He's just worried that once everyone has forgotten him it'll be like he never existed at all.

His mom has already started forgetting... who will be left when she's gone?

It's the one thing that truly terrifies him.

So he keeps going on, even though he's the weakest link.

He keeps going on even if he's the biggest joke amongst the legends.

He keeps going on, even if everyone else is laughing at him and not with him.

Because as long as they're laughing he knows they see him.

Really, he's more concerned about what's gonna happen once they stop finding him funny.

No respawn beacon will ever be able to save him then. 

---

They don't win the game.

He wakes up alone in the med ward, common procedure for the squads upon elimination from the game.

He heads back to his room, not bothering to check the results, congratulate the champions, or talk to any of the other legends.

No one stops him.

He sits on the floor next to his bed and pulls out the box from underneath, taking out a letter at random.

The words start to blur about a paragraph in, and he puts it back once he realizes his tears are just drenching it entirely at this point.

He's ready to go home.

But there's nothing left for him to go back too.

#apex legends #apex legends fanfic #mirage #fanfic #im incapable of creating content that doesnt have angst you have been warned

[delicioussshame]

Part Five of the Moshen Thing.

Shen Qingqiu waits to be announced before he enters Mobei-Jun’s quarters. He doesn’t want to disturb him for, if he’s honest with himself, is only personal gossip. He’s just really curious about what happened with Shang Qinghua? And if nothing happened Mobei-Jun might be depressed, and it’s not like Mobei-Jun is going to talk about his feelings on the matter to his entourage. It’s going to take all he has to get a few words from him if it went wrong, but he feels up to the challenge!

Turns out he won’t have to. He can tell from the relaxed way Mobei-Jun is standing and the faintest trace of a smile on his face that something very good happened since the last time he saw it. “How was Shang Qinghua?”

White teeth flash when he answers. “Fine.”

His fan, plum blossoms covered in snow, hides his own smile. “I see.” Hopefully they’ll be able to make it work. Shen Qingqiu has no trust in Shang Qinghua’s capacity to be a decent partner to anyone, but Mobei-Jun obviously disagrees. Shen Qingqiu wants to be the one in the wrong this time. “I wish you the best.” Since that’s how it is, he’s going to get all the dirty details from Airplane. That’s going to be way easier than trying to extract them from Mobei-Jun. “I’m sure you have better things to do than waste your time on me.” Like courting your new flame.

Mobei-Jun stops him from leaving by grabbing his arm. “Don’t go.”

He must have questions. Maybe he’s nervous now that he has to handle an actual relationship with a human? “Do you need something from me?” He keeps his tone calm and open. He doesn’t especially want to become their relationship therapist, but one does what one cans.

Mobei-Jun doesn’t let him go. “Thank you.”

Shen Qingqiu is flushed with pride. Look at this cold demon lord learning how to act like a person! Shang Qinghua better be grateful Shen Qingqiu warmed him up for him!

Emotionally! He meant emotionally! “I don’t need thanks. Just be happy.” He gestures at his arm, still caught in Mobei-Jun’s hold. “Though you might want to stop being touching me this freely.”

Mobei-Jun frowns. “Why?”

Shen Qingqiu waves his fan in amusement. “Shang Qinghua might get jealous.” That might have been fun. Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky deserves all the bullying he gets for having written this world. He shouldn’t have said anything.

“Why would he?”

Is that a hard concept to grasp? “It’s not really proper to flaunt your previous attachment when you have a new lover.”

“Previous.”

Shen Qingqiu starts to feel uneasy. “You did confess to Shang Qinghua, didn’t you? Or the reverse, it doesn’t really matter.”

This seems to make sense to Mobei-Jun. “Yes.”

“Then, he would expect fidelity.”

He can see the confusion on Mobei-Jun’s face. Shit. “Fidelity.”

“Most people only have one partner. They expect that partner to be loyal to them.”

“I’m a king. I might choose many spouses.”

Fuck. This is what you brought on yourself by writing a stallion novel, Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky! Your own love interest is planning on gathering a harem! “And you told him that?”

But he knows what he’ll hear before he does. “He must know.”

He might not. Mobei-Jun didn’t have any canonical love interest. “You need to tell him about it. As soon as possible.”

“Junshang doesn’t mind.”

Shen Qingqiu is not getting in, shit! Luo Binghe isn’t an example for anyone to follow! And Luo Binghe himself isn’t out there actively adding flowers to his harem without Shen Qingqiu’s input, which he would definitely need or they would be having Words. “He doesn’t matter. Shang Qinghua does. Talk to him.”

Mobei-Jun stays mute for a while. Shen Qingqiu waits in very awkward silence.

What he says when he finally decides to speak doesn’t help. “You wouldn’t mind?”

Shen Qingqiu chokes. He doesn’t want to be involved in this mess, thank you! “I thought this would end that once you had Shang Qinghua.” When he finally allowed himself to really think about it, it became obvious. Shen Qingqiu already has… a reputation in the demon realm for his unparalleled hold on the strongest member of their kind. The last thing he needs is to become known as a home-wrecker, thank you. As tentative as the relationship between Shang Qinghua and himself can be, he’s not going to ruin his chance at happiness for one of Binghe’s kinky wishes. “You won’t even miss me. Shang Qinghua is too much of a handful.”

Mobei-Jun seems doubtful

In other circumstances, Shen Qingqiu would be flattered. “Talk to him.” How did he even became the resident therapist, he will never know. Of all the anachronisms Airplane included, why not this one? A good therapist might just have saved Luo Binghe from himself.

Sadly, it would also have made for a pretty boring book. Shen Qingqiu can already hear the pleas of needing money and pleasing the audience.

Mobei-Jun frowns but nods.

Shen Qingqiu escapes from this hell he made for himself as fast as he can.

____________

And then nothing happens.

For weeks.

He means, lots of things happens, but not on the ice demon/fellow transmigrator front.

It is possible Shen Qingqiu hears nothing because they’re both not staying at Binghe’s palace and Shen Qingqiu himself has spent some time at the sect, but still. A letter would have been nice. ‘Hello, we’re doing fine, thank you for being our marital counsellor’, something of the sort. Or even ‘Never put your hand on my husband again, you trollop!’ He just wants to know!

“Shizun can stop fretting. Mobei-Jun will look over the castle while I’m visiting the Southern provinces. He can ask him himself.”

Shen Qingqiu shouldn’t be surprised Luo Binghe noticed his agitation. Very few things relating to him escape his husband’s attention.

Still, Shen Qingqiu knows why his disciple really requested Mobei-Jun's presence. Should he take it as a sign something went wrong? Or very right? “Mobei-Jun didn’t object?”

Luo Binghe snorts. “Why would he. He’s probably eager to put his hands on Shizun again.”

But Shang Qinghua! “Considering his actual status, I very much doubt it.”

“All this time, and yet my husband is still blind to his own charms. This disciple is very lucky. That way, Shizun won’t think of looking for someone else.”

Shen Qingqiu is torn between being flattered and sighing. Binghe, why are you still bringing that up? This master has no intention of leaving you.

That’s a subject he really doesn’t feel like revisiting again. Oh well, if Mobei-Jun is coming, he’ll surely bring Shang Qinghua along. Shen Qingqiu will get to the bottom of this himself.

____________

“Seriously, bro, what are you worrying about? Everything is fine.”

“Is it? Is it!? Your love interest has every intention of sleeping around with anyone he takes a fancy to and everything is fine!? Even you must have higher standards.” Shang Qinghua had very conspicuously arrived at Mobei-Jun’s side, looking less stressed than Shen Qingqiu had ever seen him, if no less hyper. Shen Qingqiu had detected the change in seconds. He knows when someone is getting laid right, okay? He’s intimately familiar with what that’s like, courtesy of basically being the heroine.

All he’d felt at the sight had been happiness for his compatriot and the other demon in his life. He had had no plans to disturb their bliss! So why are they having this conversation right now? Shouldn’t Shang Qinghua work on keeping his lover in check instead of trying to pimp him out?

“You’re exaggerating. It’s only you. He was already sleeping with you before he was doing me anyway. If anything, I’m the interloper.”

How is this his life? “I’m not romantically involved with Mobei-Jun, so of course I’m the one in the way.”

Shang Qinghua stays silent.

…What the fuck is that silence supposed to mean!? “Did you forget I’m married to the protagonist? I don’t need anyone else! I really wish people would remember that!”

“That’s something you don’t have worry about. Everyone knows you’re married to Luo Binghe. He’s not subtle about it. That’s not the point. The point is I knew, well no I didn’t know what I was getting in when I included harems in my story, but I did it anyway, the point is I expected this outcome okay? Luo Binghe being loyal to you is close to a miracle, not the rule. Getting Mobei-Jun is already more than I could ever have dreamed for. He’s not gonna go against the grain for me, and that’s fine. And if he’s gonna have someone else, who better than you? You’re not gonna marry him, and you’re not gonna ask him to leave me, so I don’t have anything to complain about.”

“…Are you fucking serious right now?”

Shang Qinghua pats his fucking shoulders like he’s a lady having the vapours. “Calm down. Keep breathing. It’s going to make sense if you think about it.”

“You allowing your lover to sleep around because you think you’re not good enough for him not to is never going to make sense.”

Shang Qinghua flinches like he just hit him. Good. Maybe he’ll understand how completely stupid he’s being. “Bro, that was way harsh. What did I ever do to you to deserve that?”

Shen Qingqiu just stares him down until he squeals. Please, Shang Qinghua knows exactly what he did, mainly everything around them.

“Not everyone has like, crazy powers of seduction that can make anyone fall for them, okay? Some of us have to content themselves with what they can have.”

Shen Qingqiu chokes. He does not have crazy powers of seduction, what the hell!

Not the point. “Did you tell Mobei-Jun that?”

Shang Qinghua’s eyes bug out. “So that I can look even more pathetic than I already do? No way, bro, no way. He told me he was eventually going to marry other people, I said I knew that, he kissed me, and then I-“

“Shut up! I don’t need to know about that!” He already knows more than enough about Mobei-Jun in bed! He really doesn’t need to know about Shang Qinghua! “Shouldn’t you have elaborated more?”

“And say what? Sorry, you’re not allowed to have an heir, you’re gonna have to let your bloodline disappear?”

“Are you seriously telling me you didn’t include mpreg in this mess? Or like, can’t he pick one of his nephews or something?”

“Excuse me, which part of stallion novel screams mpreg to you! Of course I didn’t include that! Not that I would be surprised if you fucking everything up caused a way for it to happen to exist! And yes, he could pick a member of his family as his heir, but then I would be stopping him from having children and that’s not cool. Tiny little Mobei-Juns running around with serious faces! Even your frozen heart must want to see that!”

…That would be heart-stoppingly cute.

So would all the tiny Binghes that were supposed to exist and that Shen Qingqiu ruthlessly culled by stealing their father for himself.

“…Bro, don’t be like that, that’s not what I meant, don’t be sad! They’ll kill me if you’re sad!”

Shen Qingqiu gets a grip on himself. Now’s not the time. “I’m not sad.”

“…Sure bro, you’re not.”

“You’re the one that has reasons to be sad.”

“Not really. I really am okay with it.”

Well, Shen Qingqiu isn’t.

Something is going to have to be done.

#The Scum Villain Self Serving System #Scum Villain #The MoShen Thing #MoShang #MoShen