#i kinda fell in a slump this week oops

[mirrortouchedsea]

Ah, the hospital. Shu always hated the hospital. So…sterile, so clean. It was for the health of the patients, obviously, but it wouldn’t kill them to add some color somewhere. A nice painting would do wonders, especially in this room. He’s…not really sure why a child was in this wing, a place usually reserved for the elderly. Children’s rooms in hospitals tended to be brighter, more colorful. Everyone deserved that. 

Reaping children was a hard job, even for someone immortal like himself. A life cut too short by illness, violence, or sheer accident was always a tragedy. Nobody liked to do it but Shu volunteered for it every time. It was painful, but he wanted the children to be in a comforting presence as they passed on. Something he hadn’t been granted in his own time. The girl on the bed was sick. She wasn’t due to die for a few days yet but he thought he could spend a few days with her before then. At least, for part of them. Death never waits, after all. 

Shu often comes in during the early hours when visiting the sick children. If they’re awake, they may be able to see him, talk to him. He smiles and laughs at their bad jokes, listens to their woes. It is easier to move on with someone you trust by your side after all. 

He comes in around 2am to visit the most recent addition to his list. She has a few weeks yet but her condition is terminal. When he makes eye contact with her, she curls up in her hospital bed. Maguro Mikejima, the name on her files read. He smiles. 

“Hello, Maguro.” Children, he had realized, were more responsive to their first names. “I’m not here to hurt you.” 

She uncurls slightly, though still eyes him with a wary look. “W-who are you?” 

He kneels by her bedside. “You can call me Shu. How are you feeling?” 

“Are you one of the doctors?” 

“Something like that.” 

She relaxes. “My brother told me not to talk to strangers but…if you’re a doctor then it’s okay.” Shu takes note of a small stuffed toy sitting next to her on the bed. 

“I just want to make sure you’re feeling okay. Are you having trouble sleeping?” 

“Mmm…I dunno. Sometimes I guess, like right now. It kind of hurts to breathe.” 

“I see…” Shu raises a hand and looks at Maguro, waiting for a sign that he could go on. She nods, somewhat hesitantly, but it’s enough. Shu places his hand on her forehead and channels his energy into her. It was a temporary solution and his magic could only make things easier. It wouldn’t work on the underlying problem. She should be fine for the rest of the night at least. “Does that feel any better?” 

“Mmm!” She hums happily. 

“Good. I have to go now, but I’ll see you again soon, okay?” He held out his hand in a pinky promise, another thing he realized children liked. 

“You promise?” She wraps her own pinky around his. 

“I promise.”

#shay writes #wip wednesday #i kinda fell in a slump this week oops #but i started this... lis drew some art for it too #i'm scheduling this to post when i wake up so its not like. the middle of the night for lis maopdfi #but i'm excited for this... i also need to work on the 2wink rinne fic so i can get that posted #i want that + sakura-nee fic for my esrewind application. #so gonna have my nose to the grindstone ig for that one #or however the saying goes

[toherlover]

more fun here

pairing: din djarin x reader (no use of y/n)

Summary: after spending the last 3 weeks on a bounty, din decides to give you the day off, but personal space was the last thing you wanted after spending so much time alone. 

wordcount: 2.6k

warnings/tags: alcohol, drinking, language? maybe? i dont remember, lots of fluff, mutual pining, mostly from din’s pov 

A/N: hi so i have never actually posted a fic before oop. i have them i just ~dont share~ so this is something new to try for now! 

Mando jumped when the hatch fell open, shaken out of light sleep. His hand immediately fell to the blaster tucked into the holster but froze when he saw her trudging up the ramp. She was holding some sort of drink in one hand, her other arm held out to the side as if she was walking on a balance beam. The girl was muttering under her breath, obviously concentrating way too hard on not spilling whatever liquid was frothing in the glass. 

When she got to the hull of the Razor Crest she let out an exasperated sigh. 

“Hey Mando!” the girl yelled a little too loud, “I’m home!!”

The Mandalorian said nothing. She leaned against the frame and held the glass out to him, panting and starting to slide to the floor.

“I- I got one for-for you!”

He had given her the day to be off on her own, considering how safe the new system they’d landed in was known to be. Maker, she’d spent the last three weeks couped up in the crest by herself. Cabin fever had never really gotten to him, but when he came back this time, bounty flung over his shoulder, it was obvious that it had gotten to her. 

He’d felt bad telling her to stay on the ship and only run to the shop when necessary, especially when she butted back in argument. The girl probably didn’t realize it was for her own good, a protective measure. She had rolled her eyes in annoyance, but when Mando didn’t falter in his stance through the fight she reluctantly agreed. He hadn’t meant to leave her alone this long, he truly thought it’d be just over a week, and there was a pang of guilt in his chest for leaving her here like this. 

In his absence, the girl had thoroughly redecorated the ship. All sorts of… things, crafts, maker-knows-whats, were sitting atop crates, hung on the walls, clearly made using whatever she’d found rummaging through the spare parts bin and in the singular shop connected to the docking bay.

There was a string of little flickering lights hanging across the hull, pieced together from old console controls. It looked like she had sewed together some old fabrics to create some sort of rug, too. 

The girl herself was asleep on the floor, surrounded by papers covered in writing and doodles. It was a mess- whatever she’d been writing was scattered and out of order. The kid was tucked under her arm, completely limp and snoring quietly. They looked like they’d passed out on the spot, mid-activity, on the Crest’s floor. She was wearing an odd combination of clothing he’d never seen before, had she made them herself? The child had a crown woven out of old wires sitting on his head, a matching one had clearly slipped out of her hair.

Mando silently thanked the stars not only for the fact that she was asleep when he got back, but that he had a layer of beskar to hide the smile he couldn’t keep from inching across his face. When he’d hired her a few months back to watch the kid and help copilot as needed, the girl had seemed so harsh. Her knuckles were scarred and she sneered when she called him out on his shit. Which she seemed to love to do. 

In the cockpit, they’d sit in silence for hours, something the Mandalorian usually valued with others, but he wished she’d say something. Anything. Occasionally he’d feel her eyes trained on his helmet, or he’d glance back at her to see her clearly thinking deeply about something, but it was never a shared thought. It was quiet. 

He’d never admit to it, but he was terrified that she was scared of him. Maker, she’d seen him come back out of breath and dragging a body behind him. She was always standing by when he was at his worst, catching her flinch out of the corner of his eye didn’t make it any better. 

But there were moments. Moments he was sure she hadn’t noticed him watching. Moments when she was soft. There were little things. Like how she always gripped the armrest a little tighter and squeezed her eyes shut right before they landed, or how she places a gentle kiss on the kid’s head every night before tucking him in. He doubted she was aware, but she sticks her tongue out just a little bit and fiddles with her necklace when she’s concentrating. Sometimes she leaves little reminders around the ship for them both; they’re always signed with a smiley face at the end. 

There were a few times he’d caught her humming to herself and dancing around on her toes. She was graceful- he wasn’t expecting that. For a fighter pilot with such a callous attitude, she was so delicate. So he stayed back, knowing she’d stop the moment she knew he was there. 

Or how she left a third woven crown hanging from his seat in the cockpit. No, she didn’t wear a helmet, but it was pretty clear that she hid behind her own layer of beskar, too.

But they had never shared a moment like this: the girl slumped in the door frame, holding a drink out to him with a straw stuck in it. The child toddled over to her.

“Hey little dude!” she put the drink on the floor and held her arms out to him. “Look, sorry I’m back just a little smidgen of a bit late,” she said, words slurring, bopping him lightly on the nose. “I sorta kinda,” the girl’s voice didn’t get any quieter as she tried to whisper, “forgot where we were parked.” She shook her head and held a finger to her lips, “Don’t tell Mando.”

The Mandalorian let out a sigh loud enough to be heard through the vocoder and her head whipped around to face him. “I’m-” she started to get up, “I’m sorry I’m a little bit,” she held on to the wall as she stumbled forward, “a little bit late.” With a huff she gave up and sat back down on the floor, but continued to scootch herself closer to him, only stopping a foot or so before his feet. 

Still, he was silent, and the color seemed to drain from her face. Under the cold stare of his visor, she tucked her head back like a child expecting to be scolded. After a few moments, she glanced nervously around the room, looking anywhere besides where she knew his eyes would be. She couldn’t tell the man in front of her was doing everything in his power to stifle a laugh as she struggled to sit up straight. 

“Hey, so you’re actually a reeaallly quiet person,” she said softly, fidgeting a bit, “and I don’t know if you know or realize it or not, or if it’s on purpose, b- but when you go all quiet like this I really don’t know- I mean I’m terrible at reading the room anyways- but I can’t tell if you’re mad and I just-”

He cut her off. “I’m not mad.” Her face lit up slightly. Honestly, he wished he was angry. He should have been angry. His ship was a mess. But when she sat in front of him like this, he found it hard to be even the slightest bit irritated. He’d asked her to be back before nightfall, and for once she didn’t ask why or argue back. 

“Oh.” She smiled softly then leaned all the way back so that her head skimmed the floor. She reached behind her, grabbing the blue drink and sliding it forward as she sat back up. “It was fun. Probably not your scene, I don’t really know, but the music was good, you would have liked that. You should have come.”

With a sigh, the Mandalorian rose to his feet and held a hand out to her, offering to help her up. She smiled again and let him pull her to her feet, immediately placing a hand on his shoulder to steady herself. His hand landed on her waist to keep her upright. “I don’t really do parties.”

She looked up at him. Somehow, even in her intoxicated state, she always managed to look him directly in the eye. “Yeah, I know. Sorta figured. To be really honest with you though, neither do I, I just wanted to do something a little bit different, yah know?” 

“I know.”

They stood there in silence for a minute, then she rested her head against his chest. He froze. She’d never shown an ounce of affection, let alone stand together like this. He knew she was drunk. He guessed the girl wouldn’t remember this in the morning. But still, he held her tightly and savored the moment. It couldn’t have been comfortable, but she leaned against him anyway. 

“But the credits I’d give to see you dance in this tin-man suit,” she knocked on his chest and giggled. 

“I don’t really dance.”

“Liar. You can so dance. No way you’re that quiet and sneaky and can’t.” Her nose scrunched up as she scoffed at him, poking at his chest plate. “Me, however, whew, you really don’t know what you missed, shiny. You’re holding the worst dancer on this side of the galaxy.”

His head cocked to the side and he paused, watching her poke fun at herself, thinking of all the times he’d caught her tiptoeing around with the child. All the times she would sing quietly and swing her hips while out and about. The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them, “No I’ve seen you dance, you dance all the time.”

Her lips parted as a confused look fell across her face. He couldn’t fully read her expression, but it was clear a million thoughts were flooding her brain. He was instantly worried that he’d offended her. Not only had he invaded her privacy- he admitted it to her face. He worried she’d step away and the moment would end, that she’d go to bed and leave in the morning, taking her pay and her bag. But with one eyebrow raised and a soft smile playing across her face, she wrapped both arms around his neck. 

“So I guess you owe me one then, huh? I brought you back a drink and everything.”

-----

You picked up on his almost inaudible laugh even through the modulator. Sure, you’d had a few drinks. You had been a little past the point of tipsy as you neared the Crest, but you were coming to your senses now. Were you over-exaggerating your state of mind? Most indefinitely. You couldn’t help it, though. The last 3 weeks had been an absolute shit-show. 

You were fine until the end of the first week, then you started to get worried. The thought of him kept you up at night, so you told yourself that there was no way you could have possibly missed him. You only cared because this was your wellbeing now. I mean, before you got this position you spent every minute alone, too. This wasn’t any different. 

Except that it was. And you hated that it was. This was just supposed to be another job. Somehow this man in a metal suit had weaseled his way into a soft spot in your heart.

He’d been so patient. Sure, you knew how to fly a ship, and you’re not clueless when it comes to mechanics, but this ship was unlike anything you’d seen before. So he taught you. 

When he came back bloodied and bruised, he’d explain exactly what he needed you to do. In one instance he had gently guided your hand, slowly realizing he didn’t have to patch himself up anymore. Maybe he liked having you there. It was impossible to tell; maker, the few times you’d tried small talk it seemed to push him away even further. 

But you didn’t want him further away. 

You wanted him right here.

Figured that one out week two. 

Week three the kid decided you didn’t need sleep. He cried and whined until you hung up that makeshift strand of lights. Then he sat and stared up at them like they were the most beautiful thing in the galaxy. So you made more things to pass the time. And more. And more. 

You don’t even remember finally falling asleep, so waking up in the cot was a surprise. You slipped out of bed to figure out what was going on but stopped dead in your tracks when you heard him laugh.

The hatch to the cockpit was open, and from the low angle, you could just barely see the child sitting on the Mandalorian’s lap. 

“It looks cute on you, kid.” The baby giggled and reached out for his arms. The wire crown was sitting on his head again. “How does mine look?” 

The crown you barely remembered making for him during the third-week fever dream was clearly resting on his head, atop the helmet and all. The baby cooed.

When you landed he practically announced that the day was yours and you were free to go off and enjoy yourself. You thought about asking him to tag along but worried it’d be overstepping. Maker, the man had to have been just as, or even more, exhausted as you. Your pity didn’t run too deep, though. You knew it was selfish, but you hoped that maybe he’d want to be with you.

You tried your hardest to not seem disappointed when you turned to see him still in the hull as you strode down the gangway. You walked to clear your mind before popping into a cantina, which ended up being the center of life, and finding peace with the bottle. 

The buzz had almost completely worn off by now, and you were back. And he was back. And he was holding you like he couldn’t risk letting you go. 

-----

He looked down at her and let out a sigh. “Next time, sweet girl. We need to get you to bed before you’re out on the floor.”

Her face flushed pink at the sound of his words. Stars, at least he hoped that was why. He could practically see the wheels turning behind her eyes asking, ‘sweet girl? When did you get so soft on me?’ 

She pushed up on her toes, flattening her body completely against his. Her arms were still around his neck, and he carefully brought his hands together behind her waist. Had he not been wearing the kriffing helmet he would have been able to feel her breath against his neck as she nestled herself impossibly closer. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” she whispered.

He gave a curt nod, his body stiff and tense under her.

“I wanted to leave the second after it started,” Her voice dropped even lower and her eyes fluttered shut, “... figured it’d be more fun here with you.” 

His heart stilled as he realized her invisible beskar helmet had been lifted. He hoped it fell from her shoulders and rolled down the ramp, was lost in the night, maybe even stolen by scavengers, never to be seen between the two of them again. 

She could feel his grip on her back tighten as his head relaxed onto her shoulder.    

“Tomorrow night we’ll stay in,” his voice was just loud enough to pass through the modulator.  

A smile crept across her face, “I’ll hold you to it, Mando.”

“I’m a man of my word.”

“I know.”

#din djarin #din djarin imagine #soft!din #din djarin x reader #mandalorian x y/n #din djarin one shot #din djarin x you #the mandalorian #star wars #mando x reader #mando x you #y/n #reader insert #mandalorian fanfic #soft!mando #mando fluff #din djarin fluff #tw alcohol #tw drinking #tw drunk #mandalorian x reader #toherlover

[byulsgrease]

palinoia + moonbyul || off the beaten path

(smut but not particularly graphic, ~970 words) - event prompt list

a/n: I'm not dead. surprise! combined a req and an event post bc it kinda fit? also I definitely wrote this like 3 sentences at a time over the span of maybe 3 weeks oops finals may have killed my brain a little. event's still open if y'all wanna req!

palinoia: the obsessive repetition of an art until it is perfect or mastered

Your shoes came off immediately upon stepping inside, hard-soled shoes up to the dress code and standing for long periods of time truly were the worst combination. The strap of your messenger bag got pushed off your shoulder, leaving an indent in the fabric of your shirt.

Byulyi stood to greet you with open arms, having just come home herself as you slumped lethargically into her embrace. The tension from your shoulders began fading away when hers hands found your lower back.

“Long day?” You nodded into her shoulder with limited range of motion. “Did you wanna talk about it?” she asked quietly, hand rubbing your back with care. Your head shook, whispering in her ear you’d rather have a distraction, hoping she understood your veiled request.

Getting marched to the bed and backed onto it served as indication enough that she understood. You pulled her in for a kiss, pressing your fingertips into the back of her neck. She returned the gesture with her hands on your hips, thumbs sweeping over the skin exposed by your barely hiked up shirt. Byulyi peppered small kisses to your cheeks and jawline, letting out a barely audible chuckle when your head scrunched into your shoulder out of embarrassment, a flustered heat licking your face.

Funnily enough, Byulyi refused to buy handcuffs. She claimed lock and key were too bothersome, that she’d lose it somehow and inevitably have to cut you free one day. But she used basically anything else to accomplish the exact same goal— shoelaces, ribbon, neckties. Hell, she even used a resistance band once. That one certainly left a few marks. She always told you that restraints wouldn’t leave any if you simply stayed still— chuckling softly to herself all the while because she knew that was nearly impossible. She enjoyed tending to them afterwards anyway. Plus, knots. There were just so many possible permutations of how to tie someone up. Or back. Or down. She approached the task of tying you up with intent and focus which was strangely mesmerizing, watching her methodically set up your restraints.

Today was no different after a long day at work as she unfurled the tie from around her neck. You yelped when she clasped your wrist and swung it above your head in an instant, and then whined from knowing full well what was coming.

“Hey, you’re the one who asked for a distraction. Just focus on me.” How nonchalant. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it though, allowing her to do whatever she wanted for a while. Hopefully she wasn’t in a mood to be mean.

“Do your best to keep your hands here, okay?” she instructed softly, hovering above you as her fingers maneuvered her tie into an elaborate knot around your wrists, looping them to the bedpost. You gave a gentle nod. At least it wasn’t both hands and feet. Now that was torture— depending on who you asked, of course. You sighed resigned when her lips found yours, unable to pull her in closer. Byul always kissed you deeply and desperately, the kind that never failed to remind that she cared. She upped the pace and trailed her fingertips up your sides, sending a shiver through your body. Your heel hooked around the back of one of her legs as some kind of gesture of closeness. What else could you do with unavailable hands?

When she pulled back for air, you wasted no time sounding a plea— “Byul, I need you, n-now,” shakily tripping over your words. Heat simmered underneath your skin at the admission, both from how little it took and also from how desperate it sounded. Not what you intended, it just slipped out that way. Your head fell to the side, attempting to bury your burning face in your upper arm bent beside your head.

She stared at you proudly for a moment with her lower lip cunningly bitten between pearly teeth. You wondered what the delay was. She heard you, right? She leaned down with the weight of her body pressed into yours, lips directly next to your ear.

“Aw, incoherent and whiny already?” A low chuckle reverberated from deep in her throat, deafening to your ears with her proximity. Well— that, and your pulse thumping restlessly in your eardrums in anticipation of what she’d do next. Had you asked for too much?

Her hand slid down your front to slip her fingers into your waistband. The pads of her fingers tapped along the skin just underneath. You couldn’t help but arch your back to meet your hips with her touch, trying to force her hand lower. She obliged and smiled again when a drawn out whine left your mouth, your body tensing solidly beneath her.

“You can have anything you want, baby. You just have to tell me. Or I’ll figure it out on my own eventually,” she murmured into the warmth of your neck before marking it up with her teeth. The hitched breaths and choked-back moans stopped short in your throat gave her all the motivation to continue. She smiled again, lips taut against your sensitive skin. She kissed down to your breasts, savoring each delicate touch that fueled the building heat between your thighs. After all your fidgeting, her fingers finally trailed to where you wanted them most, pulling the sweet yet desperate sounds of her name from your lips.

“Just relax and let me take care of you, haven’t you worked hard enough today?” she whispered reassuringly against your chest, completely dissolving your self-restraint with one utterance as your wrists tugged uselessly against the fabric with a singular drawn out whine.

No handcuffs, no problem. Byulyi would never pass up a chance to practice her knots on you. Maybe someday they’ll be perfect.

#requested #off the beaten path #N #mamamoo smut #moonbyul smut #mamamoo imagines #moonbyul x reader #mamamoo x reader #mamamoo fic #mamamoo scenarios #mamamoo moonbyul #moonbyul imagines #kpop smut #girl group smut #moon byulyi #moonbyul

[ethelphantom]

Prompts? Uh Okay not a romantic pairing but what about Mari and the Central City Rogues like the ones from the arrowverse e.g. captain cold heatwave and golden glider or maybe for a different prompt what about mari and the batfam but following the old crossover cliche of falling into another universe/dimension through an akuma or something

Alright, so. I’m not familiar with the arrowverse like, at all, so you can have the latter one. This certainly took me a while, oops. Also there are no romantic ships in this, just things happening (and no, I don’t know what said things are. Don’t ask.)

Ao3 || Second part

This is Maribat – don’t like; don’t read

__________

A scream and what felt like an endless darkness later, Marinette found herself standing on the roof of a tall building in a strange city. She was rather certain that it was even taller than the Eiffel Tower.

It was only then that she realised it was windy but not cold, and that made her check what clothing she was in because not many of her outfits she used during the summer could hold cold out very well. And yeah, she was in the Ladybug suit. Goddamnit. She was in a strange city with no means of returning, and the fact she was transformed meant there was an akuma running rampant in Paris.

The day could have certainly gone so much better.

It was also the middle of the night right now and that certainly didn’t help because that meant she would not be able to find anyone to help her all that easily. Yeah, indeed, the day could have certainly gone so much better, but it seems fate didn’t like her enough and was intent on making it go downhill and straight to hell.

She could probably ask Tikki if she knew how to get home from here.

Then, just as Marinette was about to throw her yoyo and swing around to see if she could see someone to ask them where in the world she was (preferably untransformed) or to at least try to figure out the place herself, she heard someone landing behind her with a loud thump. Marinette whipped around fast, meeting the… well, certainly not their eyes . All she really saw was someone with a god awful red helmet in her opinion no one should actually wear unironically, a leather jacket and… was that a giant red bat on their chest?

Good god.

Soon enough, someone in a red skinsuit and a black cowl (how old was this person? Marinette got the vibe of maybe an eighteen-year-old but the cowl made them look like fourty) landed next to them. Scowling. Of course. That was definitely what she fucking needed from this day.

Seriously, fate? It was bad enough finding yourself in a strange place in the middle of the night, random people in masks and fucking capes and angry at something (her?) really wasn’t needed.

“Who the fuck are you and how did you get here?” the one in a helmet asks her, in English. How fun, she’s not even in France anymore. Hopefully she’s still in Europe, but she isn’t holding her breath. The area is too weird for the Great Britain and the person’s accent sounds more American than British. Their voice is modified, but Marinette estimates them to be a little over twenty. It’s not that hard to guess. Probably. They walk closer to her and—

Oh god, did they really need to be that tall? It was like watching a crane, like, the kind you use in the construction sites. To be able to look them where she thinks their eyes might be, she needs to actually look up.

“Well. I certainly don’t know how I got here, but I think I should blame the latest fashion catastrophe of Paris that Papillon calls an akuma. I am Ladybug, the superheroine of Paris who’s both way too young to do this and has got no idea where she is so if you could be so kind as to tell where I am so I can see if my teammate could get me back home, I’d be very happy to get out of your hair.”

She’s pretty sure that was how you said it in English anyway. If otherwise never, she’s certainly overjoyed right now about the fact she took extra English courses in school. It made communicating a lot easier.

“Since when has Paris had superheroes? Hey, Replacement, when was it you or B were in Paris the last time?” the helmet head asks the smaller person behind them.

“Two weeks ago, I think? We had a meeting there. Why?”

“Were there any superheroes or villains or some shit like that there?”

“Not as far as I was aware, no. Well, other than Emilie Agreste’s horrible fashion sense, that is.”

Marinette could feel colour draining from her face. This couldn’t be happening. Where had that akuma thrown her? “Mm. Agreste is alive?” she asked with a strained voice.

“Yes, yes she is, and she is one of the most known actresses in the world, as well as the wife of one of the most liked fashion designers. And it very much seems you are lying, miss Ladybug. You a new villain? Or a meta trying to be a hero? Because let me tell you, you won’t get far here in Gotham.”

The helmet head’s voice turned borderline threatening (although after Hawkmoth and all the akumas, her idea of “threatening” was rather screwed so she wasn’t too sure) and they stepped forwards as she backed away, her hand already placed on her yoyo to throw it if she needed to get away. Surely enough, the second helmet head’s body jerked weirdly towards her, she threw out her yoyo to the nearest thing it could be wrapped around.

“Goddamnit you fucker—”

And then there was a sharp, stinging and burning pain in her knee, as though something had hit her hard. Her hand slipped and she fell helpless to the ground, hitting her head. It took her a lot to be able to force herself on her knees, supported by her arms.

“…Did her suit deflect the bullets? What the fuck. How did that even happen?”

They’d shot her?! What the hell was wrong with this place?

“Magic?” Mari suggested, wincing as she tried to move her knee. She picked up her yoyo and flicked it open, trying to contact Chat so he could get Kaalki and get her home. She couldn’t stay here, wherever she was.

The problem was, the idea that Emilie was alive and there were no superheroes or supervillains in Paris was frightening. If that was true, then there was a big chance she would not be able to contact Chat, or anyone, really.

The yoyo just made a long sound of not being able to contact anyone, taking away all Marinette’s hope with it. She slumped right back down, barely able to support her weight and cried. Even being Ladybug couldn’t stop her. The only reason it couldn’t connect was if she wasn’t in her world anymore. And if that wasn’t a scary thought, Marinette didn’t know what was.

“Hood, do you think there’s any chance she’s telling the truth but she’s just from another universe? Like, an alternate one. I can’t really notice signs of lying in her so either she’s the best goddamn liar I’ve seen in a long time or she’s telling the truth. It’s not like it’s the first time we’ve seen alternate universes,” the one with the cowl and the cape says, tired, and Marinette can’t remember when was the last time she just wanted to hug someone and cry against someone this much if she didn’t count the times Chat basically sacrificed himself and died in front of her eyes.

(Seriously, that cat really did not know how to take care of himself. He better learn while she’s here because otherwise Paris will have no one to save them.)

“But that… That means there’s no way I can get home,” she murmurs and feels her transformation fall away as she sobs hopelessly. She knows she hasn’t used her lucky charm and she certainly didn’t call it off, so Tikki must have decided it didn’t matter in this situation.

“Oh Marinette,” Tikki says and caresses her cheek as well as she can with those tiny paws of hers before she presses her forehead against Marinette’s. Marinette can’t help the tears that fall from her eyes as she lets Tikki try to comfort her, completely oblivious to the helmet head freaking out behind her.

“Holy shit that is a fucking child and I just shot her in the kneecap? Hell, if that suit hadn’t been there I swear that would’ve crippled her and oh fuck she’s crying. What do I do now? What have I done?” There’s a clatter of guns and other stuff before they’re kneeling next to Marinette but not touching — very polite of them, because they don’t know what her boundaries are and it’s not like she’s bleeding or something that would require the contact regardless of what she likes. Regardless of the fact they just shot her, she thinks they are rather nice.

“I’m so sorry kid. I didn’t— God, yeah, no excuses here, it’s become a reflex and I didn’t realise you were a child. How old are you anyway? Eleven? Twelve?” Then she sees a red helmet on the ground without its wearer and all Marinette can guess from that is they took it off. She’s not looking at them to find out whether they’re wearing another mask under it or not though. She doesn’t think she’d be too surprised if they were.

It was… a little strange how their voice goes from angry and threatening to this soft voice that tries to soothe her. Marinette definitely appreciates it as it does bring her comfort. Tikki shoots a glare at the helmet head (well, helmet-less head at this point) before she flies to them, picks their hand up and lets it go only when it’s above Marinette’s shoulder that’s definitely not closer to them.

“The least you can do is give her some kind of a hug if you don’t want me to ruin you for hurting my bug,” she hisses, and weirdly enough, they comply immediately. To be honest, Tikki can be kinda scary when she wants to so it isn’t that surprising. Maybe. Probably. Possibly. Whatever. The hug is kinda awkward, like they haven’t hugged people much in years, but that’s fine. Marinette melts into it anyway and now she doesn’t need to support her weight anymore so she goes limp. They don’t seem intent on hurting her anymore and also she can trust Tikki to take care of her should something happen so she doesn’t care too much.

She can feel the stare of the other person on her, not sure what she should expect from them. When they do open their mouth though, it’s nothing she could have guessed, because: “Hey you know what, Hood? She looks like a Wayne and if she’s not from this world, it technically makes her an orphaned superhero child with traumatic past. Do you think B would take her in until we figure out how to get her home?”

Marinette perks up at that and turns to look at the cape person. She knows she’s gaping but it seems neither mind. “Wait. You’re going to help me get home?” It’s just a little sad how excited she gets over the idea of two complete strangers helping her after said strangers seemed ready to take her down at any given second just moments earlier but this is not her Paris — this isn’t Paris at all — and she doesn’t need to play the role of a mature and responsible heroine right now.

“Uh, yes, obviously? You’re not supposed to be here and I’m sure you’d like to get back home,” helmet head says, and god Marinette needs better names for both of them but it’s kinda awkward at this point. Well, helmet head has used Replacement (and isn’t that just a bit rude, Monsieur Helmet Head, be more respectful and learn some manners, please) of the cape person and cape person called helmet head “Hood”. Like, what hood? She can’t see any hoods here, especially not on their person.

Regardless, Marinette just straight out beams and throws herself first into the helmet head’s arms and hugs him like it’s no problem at all before she scrambled up and hug attacked cape person as well. “Thank you so much!” And oh, maybe Cape isn’t that old after all because they’re only a little taller than she is. Maybe they’re around sixteen?

Helmet just stares at her. “I— How did she manage to do what only Nightwing can? Like, I can’t remember anyone managing to hug you that easily — aside from Spoiler and Black Bat maybe — in like, years.”

“Same right back to you, dear Hood, right back to you,” Cape replies, a little tense as Mari is still hugging him.

The name “Nightwing” takes a moment before it registers in Marinette’s brain. Wasn’t that the name of that one superhero in the comics Alya loved to tell her about? The one that ended up being Chat’s sexual awakening a bit ago?

Oh my god.

“Wait, Nightwing? You don’t happen to be the Red Hood — where’s your hood though and yes I’m going to critique your style, that’s kinda my job as a fashion designer — and Red Robin — you, on the other hand, what is that cowl supposed to be? Make you look fifty?”

And yes, apparently she managed to recover from her shock because there she is, sassing two people like she knows them very well. Or like they were Papillon because she was rather tired of his shit.

“Uh-huh.”

“So, it turns out the akuma threw me into a fictional universe that I only know about because of my friends who kinda made me read and watch as much as humanly possible during the summer and there are actually comics about you in my world. I also probably know your identities because of that. Do you think you could contact Wonder Woman and ask if she knows anything about the Miraculous because if she does, that could be one way to send me back home. Her mother was one of the Ladybug successors, right, Tikki?”

“Yes, Hippolyta was one of my first holders indeed. Not the first, but one of the first. It would be nice to see her or her daughter after such a long time even if they weren’t necessarily my Bug and her daughter.”

Both the Red Hood — Jason Todd, she’s pretty sure of that — and Red Robin — definitely Tim Drake — are staring at her bewildered. It’s a little amusing. Then she remembers her knee as she takes a step wrong and winces again, falling to the ground. Tikki rushes to her side to soothe the pain, but Red Robin is nearly as fast as he picks her up. “Well. Since you apparently know who we are — though I’d like to have confirmation of it first just in case —, I think we should take you to Agent A for check up,” he says, trying to be as gentle as possible with her.

“Yeeahhh, about that, can we please leave out the part where I shot a child? Or at least heavily emphasise the fact I did not realise it in time? N is going to have my head — as though I wouldn’t do it myself for the same reason — when he hears about it, and you know it’s worse to have N disappointed in you than to have B disappointed in you. He looks at you like you kicked his puppy and stole all his cereal and is ready to relive the memory of his parents’ death and I can’t take more of it so soon,” Red Hood says, looking torn between flinging himself down from the roof without the safety of his grabble and just burying his face in his hands right there.

It’s kind of amusing.

“Yeah, I get you. Let’s see if we can avoid it, and if not, then we just explain the story — or let her explain. That sounds like a good idea, she didn’t look too furious with you after a while there,” Red Robin snorts, and Marinette can hear and feel the rumble in his chest before he can hear the actual sound in the air. “So. Will you help me convince B to take her in?”

Red Hood turns the helmet — and no, she’s never going to stop needing to mention that all the time — in his hands a few times before putting it back on. “Well. I kinda want to say no because of the probably eternal grudge I have with B, but yeah, she’s way too sweet to stay with me considering the stuff I do on the daily, and B definitely has the space for more kids, and there’s not really a way to put her with anyone else considering we do need to send her back at some point. It would be too problematic,” he finally says and pulls out the grabble. “You gonna carry the girlie or let her do it herself? It looked like she knows how to with that yoyo of hers, even if I’ll never understand how it can support her weight that easily or how she can shoot it with such pinpoint accuracy.”

That having been said, Red Robin turns back to look at Marinette. “Well? Do you think you can grabble — or swing, however you call it — yourself with us to where we’re going with that knee? Grabbling with you would be a little more difficult but not impossible so you can say you can’t if you need to.”

Marinette shakes her head. “I think I can manage. The suit eases the pain anyway. It will help if you only let me down after I transform though? And you might want to close your eyes because I’ve been told the light is rather bright to other people?” she says and as soon as she thinks Red Robin has closed his eyes, she calls to Tikki with “Tikki, spots on!”

After she was done, she let Red Robin put her down as she tested her knee. Yeah, it kinda stung but it didn’t hurt, per se, so it was fine. She would survive, probably. Hopefully.

“Let’s go before I regret this,” she huffed and played with the yoyo, waiting for the Reds to make a move. When they did, she followed.

Okay, so maybe the day wasn’t going so badly after all. It was rather fun swinging in a new city with two people she only knew as fictional characters.

…Marinette wondered if she was a fictional character in their world and now she really needed to find out as soon as possible.

oOoOoOoOo

Bonus:

“Who— Tim, who is this and why are you bringing her here while you and Jason are still in full costume sans the masks? Since when has either of you used the front door anyway. I know very well you two are part of the family that literally cannot use front doors to save their life because crawling in through a window does not give you time to reflect on your bad life choices and make you want to turn away as fast. And what is this tiny child doing here in the first place?”

Tim smiles brightly at Bruce who is in the Batsuit for some reason. Why was he inside the manor in the Batsuit to begin with? He has absolutely no right to nag about it to him. Absolutely none. “Do introduce yourself to him,” he says to the tiny girl (that is not that tiny compared to him but he’s just happy she’s still shorter than him) in front of him while still keeping a hand on her shoulder like a proud big brother showing his sister around or a parent showing his child around. It’s a bit weird to be honest but Tim can’t find it in himself to mind too much right now. It’s too much fun being able to mess with Bruce without actually messing with him.

“Hello Monsieur Wayne—” Bruce gapes at her and it’s so much fun to see, “—I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the only daughter of the best bakers in my Paris, as well as the superhero of my Paris. I’m also from an alternate universe where this world is a fictional verse and that kinda has me knowing everyone’s identities. It’s nice to meet you.”

Tim laughs — actually, genuinely laughs and he can hear people falling over inside the manor before hurrying to them and looking at him like he’s sick. It makes him laugh even more. He pushes everyone aside and drags Marinette inside, waiting for Jason to follow him. He does, eventually.

“So. Hey Bruce, here’s a ‘tiny and young Tim Drake comes in for the first time without his parents and with an older Bat’ - situation all over again for you, except this time there’s no older dead Bat that has her here and it’s, in fact, the older Bats who want her in. Jason and I like her, let’s adopt her. She even fits the black hair-blue eyes - theme your kids seem to mostly have going on. She’s even a superhero and knows all our identities, she’s a great addition to the family. If you won’t take her in, I’m going to do that myself—” because regardless of the fact he was not old enough, money could do hell of a lot things in this city,  “—and she’ll still come over here because then she’s family. Or, we could get Jason to adopt her and then you’ll want to take them both here because you’re not sure if you can trust either of them enough. Your pick.”

The flabbergasted expression painted on Bruce’s face that could be seen even with the cowl was totally worth all of this. It took a lot to not laugh at Bruce’s expression after Tim’s analysis. Jason did not possess that strength, it seemed, because he did burst out laughing at Bruce.

“Fine. We’re sending her back as soon as possible, though.”

In the end, they did not end up sending her back as soon as possible and figured out a way for her to come by whenever she wanted, and for them to go to her world to meet her when they felt like it.

(None of them had been able to avoid falling in love with the sweet girl and deciding she was a part of the family, their daughter or sister.)

______

@kris-pines04 @thethirdwheelfriend @daminett4life

#Maribat #marinette dupain cheng #jason todd #tim drake #fanfiction #asks i guess #request #fanfic #ethel's writing #ml x dc #dc #miraculous ladybug #ml

[deathloveshischicagopizza]

Oops?

Hey! So! I’m not dead! Surprised? Me too!

This story was written for my good friend @comfortably-chaotic-mind -  I love them, please go follow them and read whatever they post. Some ColdFlash written just for you, buddy, since I know I haven’t written much...and this is honestly kind of garbage and not in any way explicitly ColdFlash until the end, and I might eventually continue it in a real story (probably not). But anyway! Good job with school! Here you go!

Oops? a ColdFlash Fic for @comfortably-chaotic-mind - 4700 words

“Allen.”

He glanced up, fingers pausing their furious typing but still hovering over the keys. “Yeah?”

“There’s some guy at the door, says he knows you.”

Barry’s brow scrunched. “Who?”

His roommate shrugged. “Didn’t give a name. Said he was your friend, asked me to get you.” A pause, and he looked over his shoulder almost nervously. “He’s creepy, dude—I think he might be on the run. Who the fuck you hangin’ out with?”

Realization dawned, and he laughed. “Oh, okay,” he said, still laughing. “Yeah, it’s fine. It’s just Len—you can let him in.”

“You sure?”

Barry rolled his eyes. “Yes, Hal. I promise he won’t steal your stuff.”

His roommate’s eyes narrowed at that. “Even more suspicious,” he muttered, but he disappeared back into the hall.

There were muffled voices—Hal telling Len where to find him—and then the front door shut and the TV in the living room turned on. If he listened really carefully, he could hear quiet footsteps on the creaky stairs.

The door to his bedroom-slash-office opened again, and he turned back to his computer. The data report wasn’t going to finish itself. It didn’t take long for the door to shut, and then a man’s figure came to lean against the desk beside his arm.

“No Cold-Gun today?” Barry asked, conversational. “How bold of you. You know, without that thing, I could take you to jail whenever I want.”

The man scoffed. “We have a deal, Scarlet—I don’t kill, you don’t turn me in. I haven’t killed anyone, so…”

He rolled his eyes. “What do you want, Snart?” he sighed. “And how did you even find me?”

“I asked Vibe.”

Barry waited for him to continue, but he left it at that, so Barry finally stopped talking and looked up with a raised brow and a completely nonplussed expression. “What do you want, Cold?” he snapped.

Len just frowned. “What are you doing here, Scarlet?”

“What do you mean?” He gestured pointedly around them. “I’m working.”

“You work in Central City,” the man corrected, almost…grumbling.

Barry shook his head, face scrunching in utter confusion. “No, I mean—I had to go back to school.”

“Back?”

“Yeah? Back? This is where I went to get my degree in the first place, and now I have to take an updated course. Just a few weeks. I should be back by next month. I’m even getting paid for it.” He grinned, though it almost immediately fell when Len just stared at him. “What?”

“When did you get your degree?”

“Every CSI has a college degree, Snart. It’s mandatory.”

“No. When were you in Coast City?”

He shrugged. “I moved the summer after high school. School for three years, training for one, and then I went home.” The other man was silent, and his brow scrunched in concern. “Why?”

Len shook his head. “No reason,” he said quietly, glancing around the room. The way he said it indicated that there was, in fact, a reason, but that he would not be disclosing it. “What are you doing back?”

“Refresher course,” Barry replied slowly. “They updated the curriculum for the new tech we have now, and Singh offered to send me back here instead of doing the course in Central, since Coast City is way better in the university department.”

The other man didn’t ask anything else, still looking around the room, and the speedster sighed deeply.

“Look, Snart, I have a lot of work to do, so if there’s a reason for this visit, please get to—”

“What was it like,” he interrupted, the words rough and halting, as if he were forcing them out of his throat, “for you, when you were in your coma?”

Barry blinked in surprise. “How do you know about that?”

“Humor me, Scarlet.”

“I…” He hesitated before shaking his head. “Well, it was hard, at first. Not just because I woke up with superspeed, but—when I was…asleep…I was just dreaming. About anything, everything—and it didn’t really feel like anything more than just regular dreams and stuff. And then I woke up, and it had been, like…nine, ten months without me even noticing. So I had to deal with that.” He sighed. “The world just kind of…I mean, the world doesn’t stop because a random CSI is in a coma. No one really cared—No one other than Iris and Joe, and STAR Labs kinda. So, yeah. It was rough for a while. Everything had changed, and I didn’t even get to see it.”

Len was quiet for a long moment. Barry watched him carefully, searching for any sign as to what this was all about.

Finally, the older man sighed and shook his head. “How did you know it was me at the door?”

“Hal’s description,” he replied without hesitation. “He’s pretty intuitive about stuff. Said you looked like you were on the run, and creepy, and suspicious, but if he thought you were actually dangerous, he would have come out and said it. And you’re the only one I know that could pull that off and still say, I’m a friend of Barry’s, can you get him? with a totally straight face.” He shrugged. “Anyone else who might have done that is still in Central. I got an update last night—they all went out to celebrate Caitlin’s first official catch.” He grinned.

Len rolled his eyes. “You left a bunch of newbies to protect the city,” he sighed disapprovingly.

Barry frowned. “You know, when we first met, I was a newbie,” he pointed out. “I had only been a speedster for like—a month.” He huffed. “Cisco and Iris have it under control for now. It’s fine. The city’s in good hands.”

“I don’t like it.”

The speedster paused, head tilted as his eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“I just don’t. A lot can happen without the Scarlet Speedster around.”

“There are three other speedsters in town right now. I think they’ll be fine.”

“None of them are you.”

“What’s your point, Len?” he sighed, exasperated now. “Did something happen?”

“No.”

Just then, Barry’s alarm sounded, startling him. It was noon: officially lunchtime. He huffed, shutting down his laptop and standing to stretch. Then his phone started beeping again—not his alarm, this time, but his text-tone. And then it started ringing. Like, ringing ringing, in the way it only did when Cisco’s latest installation was being put to use.

He had only let him put the app on his phone a few weeks ago, before going to Coast City, just in case. If several people called him at once, he could choose which he wanted to answer rather than hearing the busy-line beeping noise when he answered the phone.

Barry raised a brow and reached for the device.

Len grabbed his arm, pulling him back. “Don’t answer that,” he all but ordered. “Trust me.”

“Why?” His face scrunched. “What’s going on?” he demanded.

“They’re just going to tell you that I’m on my way here,” the man explained carefully. “And since I’m already here, you don’t need to know.”

“How did you get here so fast, then?” Barry retorted.

“Kara lent me her generator.” Len shrugged. “She was…strangely nice.” His brow rose. “I’m guessing you only told her the good parts, and not that I’m a criminal?”

The speedster ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe? By the time I met her, you were with the Legends.” He paused. “How did you meet her?”

“Long story.”

“Obviously, I’ve got time.” He crossed his arms and glared pointedly. “What the hell is going on, Len? What did you do in Central that has everyone trying to get ahold of me? When did you get back from the Waverider? Why are you here?”

“I didn’t know where else to go!” Len shouted, expression crumpling. “Mick won’t talk to me, Lisa’s underground, Sara thinks I’ve lost my mind, and the rest of the crew—they can barely look at me after what they did! What they let me do!”

Barry was utterly confused, now, and he took a slow step forward as if approaching a scared, wounded animal. “What are you talking about?” he asked carefully.

“I died, Barry.”

He froze—actually froze, standing stock-still like a robot shutting down. This was… “What?” he asked. “What…That…What?”

Len sighed, slumping down into the vacated office chair. “The Time Masters were—They were gonna let Vandal Savage wreck the timeline. Kill whoever he wanted. They said they had to, to ensure the world’s survival.”

“What does that mean?”

“In a couple hundred years, we’re going to be invaded by Thanagaar—an alien planet with a warlike people. And the Time Masters don’t think we’ll make it unless Savage is there to help us. So, they let him do what he wants, shape the world into what he thinks is best, and he’ll save the world.”

“It’s Vandal Savage, Len. He can’t be trusted.”

“I know,” he snapped. “We all knew that.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We decided to destroy their time-keeping device. The Oculus, they called it. It held the records for every timeline, every little change that would or could occur. Destroy that, and time is guided by freewill.”

“And?”

“And the only way to destroy it was to stand right next to it, holding down the button until it exploded.” He looked up, watching the horror dawn across Barry’s face, and nodded. “Ray was going to be the one, thinking his Atom suit would protect him, but we saw that it wouldn’t. And then Mick tried to step in, because Rip convinced him it was the way to repent—by saving his friend. I couldn’t—I couldn’t let him die.”

“Len…”

“I couldn’t let Mick die, Barry,” he snapped. “Not like that. Not when I—I was the one who dragged him into the whole thing. Into the Legends. He followed me, after everything, after everything I did to him, and…and I couldn’t do it.”

“I get it.”

“I knocked him out, took his place…blew up the Oculus. Took out half the Time Masters, too.”

“And then?”

“I died. Disintegrated. Became…Nothing.”

Barry reached out to set a hand on his shoulder, brow scrunched in sympathy. “How long?”

“I don’t know.” Len shook his head. “Days? Years? Centuries? I…I wasn’t sleeping, exactly, or dreaming. It was all…real. And then you were there. Every time I managed to pull myself together, every time I relaxed into the pain enough to think…You were there.”

He was confused again. “I don’t remember…”

The man was already shaking his head. “An older version of you,” he clarified. “You were…maybe thirty?” He sighed. “There were so many fragments, different timelines…It’s hard to keep track. Most of them didn’t make sense.”

“Why?”

“I’d rather not say. If you don’t mind.”

Barry shrugged. “That’s fine, I guess. It’s your trauma.” He sighed. “So this was maybe…three, four years in the future.”

“Most of it.”

“And the rest?”

Len looked away at that, silent for a minute. Then, quietly, “The last one was a few weeks ago. He brought me back to the Waverider.”

“He?”

“You…Future-You.” He chuckled softly. “I fell through a wormhole onto his kitchen floor.”

Barry laughed. “I’m sure that was surprising.”

Len shrugged. “He didn’t seem surprised. But it could have been because he was older.”

“What do you mean, he didn’t seem surprised?”

“He…” Hesitation, again. “He just leaned over and said, Finally. Then he helped me up, explained some science stuff that I couldn’t understand, and offered to take me back to my time.”

“How old was he—I?” Barry stuttered.

“Forty? Maybe forty-five?” Another shrug. “You might have been older, though—I had a feeling. Speedster aging must be slower.”

“Strange.” He shook his head. “How long did you stay with the Legends?”

“Not long. Like I said, they can barely stand to be around me.” He sighed. “It didn’t take much to get them to drop me off in 2016.”

“You still haven’t told me how you met Supergirl. She’s on another Earth, Len—the Waverider couldn’t have taken you there, and I don’t think you have any favors left with Cisco. So how did you meet?”

Len nodded, thoughtful. “That…is complicated.”

“More complicated than literally dying?”

“Yes.”

Barry huffed and sat down on his bed, crossing his arms. “Hit me with it, then.”

“First of all, I didn’t meet her this year. I met her…probably at least fifteen or twenty years from now. It’s all a little fuzzy.”

“Why?”

“She—Well, her team, really…They were the ones who pulled my threads together.” He shook his head. “They didn’t mean to, not really—they were looking for some sort of robot, or something—but they got me out first. I was unconscious for that part. Woke up in a hospital bed next to Kara’s.”

“She was hurt?”

Len shook his head again. “Not exactly…More drained. The machine they used drew power from her. She insisted it was fine, that she just needed some Vitamin D, and she’d be fine.”

“Her power comes from the Sun.”

“I know that now—I didn’t know back then.” He sighed. “She asked who I was…and when I told her, she immediately asked if I knew you and Oliver.”

“Of course she did,” he muttered. “And then?”

“I don’t remember a lot of it,” Len admitted. “She gave me one of her spare generators, and then I woke up on Older-Barry’s kitchen floor.” A scoff. “And then I get home to a crew that no longer wants anything to do with me. They dropped me off in Central. I looked for Lisa, but it looks like she’s underground—she’s not at any of her usual safehouses.”

Barry grimaced, shifting slightly in his seat. “Um…”

The former villain narrowed his eyes. “What’s that, Scarlet?”

He winced. “Lisa’s not underground, Len.”

“What are you talking about? Is she in jail?”

“No…” Barry sighed. “She’s on Earth-2.”

“Why?” Len demanded, lurching from his seat.

“Because she’s sick,” he said calmly, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. “Harry—Earth-2 Wells knew a doctor who specializes in her condition, one who’s much better than anyone we know on this Earth, and we sent her over there to get help. Cisco’s probably on his way there right now to tell her you’re back.” He paused. “Actually, she’s probably with the you who lives there, now that I think about it.”

“What?” That made him pause in his anger, at least, now confused and concerned. “Why?”

“I don’t think you want to know,” Barry hedged. “But she’s in good hands, I promise.”

“Just tell me, Barry.”

“Fine,” he sighed. “The doctor I told you about, the specialist? It’s her—Earth-2 Lisa Snart is a bio-engineer with a Medical Degree. Basically, she’s Caitlin. Minus the ice powers and with the addition of some pretty sweet inventions.” He grimaced. “Her brother is…the Mayor. Of Central City. They killed their dad when they were kids—self-defense.”

Len was quiet for a moment. Then: “You’ve met, then?”

He nodded. “Twice, actually. Once on accident…and then again when Harry introduced us to Lenny and Doc. They’re…nice. Safe. Very protective, which isn’t surprising.” He grinned. “Last I talked to Lisa, she was awake and feeling a lot better. She hasn’t had an episode in almost two months, and her brain activity is back to normal. She sounds better, too—more like herself. Even flirted with Cisco when they talked, which she hadn’t done in a while…”

“She’s okay, then?”

“Not at a hundred percent yet,” Barry warned with a shrug. “But yeah. She’s safe. Happy. Feeling better than she did when she first came to us.”

“What happened?”

“She just—Showed up at Joe’s one night, out of nowhere. I think it was maybe a month or so after you left—she had called Cisco before that, asking if we knew where you were, and we told her, and she was pissed at me for some reason.” He laughed, just a little. “Then she just shows up out of nowhere at Joe’s house, scares the hell out of me when she just walks right through the front door. Which was locked.” He shook his head. “Apparently, she stole your key?” His brow raised.

Len just smirked. “Lock-picking gets tedious after a while.”

“Where did you even—”

“Iris should be more careful about leaving her purse lying around.”

“…Whatever.” Barry huffed. “So, anyway, Lisa just walks in one night—middle of the night, out of nowhere—sits right next to me on the couch, scaring the hell out of me. She looks at me, and I could already tell something was messed up with her, because she just…she didn’t look right. She looked tired and sad and…sick.” He sighed. “She looked at me for a minute and then said, Don’t freak out. You know, like she hadn’t just appeared out of nowhere. And then she said, I need your help. And I was like, With what? And she told me she ran into an old boyfriend and he did something to her.”

“What the f—”

“Not that,” he assured quickly. “That was my first thought, but she kind of lost it when I asked her, and—yeah. So then, when she calmed down from that, she got this headache…migraine…thing, and that was when I first saw her get one of her attacks.” He grimaced. “It was…bad. Weird, and scary, and it actually kind of freaked me out.” A sigh. “So, uh, I called Caitlin first, and then Cisco and Harry, and asked them to meet us at STAR Labs. Harry had actually seen something like it before, on his Earth, and he knew a specialist—other-Lisa—who could help. So we took her there. She insisted that I had to come with her, and she wouldn’t let me leave until she was with Lenny and Doc, until she was sure she could trust them.”

Len thought this all over for a moment. “What exactly did this attack entail?”

“Hard to describe…” Barry thought about it. “She kind of…exploded? Not her body, but like…her spirit, kind of. Like an astral projection, except she couldn’t control it enough to actually appear as a person.” He sighed. “We met the ex-boyfriend a few weeks later…Roscoe?”

“Dillon.” He sneered. “He’s still around?”

“Not anymore,” the speedster said darkly. “He was a metahuman…some kind of tornado-hurricane-spinning abilities. Cisco called him Topsy-Turvy, but after he just kept coming and coming…it was an accident, but he died.”

“How did he hurt Lisa?”

“As far as we can tell…She was working on some sort of mercenary work or something, and he was robbing a bank, and they…literally ran into each other. She got thrown into a wall, got a knock on the head, and apparently the concussion triggered some kind of ability she didn’t know about.”

“She wasn’t in Central—”

“When the Particle Accelerator blew.” Barry nodded. “Yeah, we know.” He winced. “You’re not gonna like our theory on that.”

“Why not?” Len asked, very slowly.

“Because it might be my fault.”

He blinked, surprised. “What?”

“Turns out…I kind of…give off small amounts of Dark Matter because of the Speed Force…mostly when I run.”

“And?”

“And, the people that I transport, if they carry a metahuman gene, could, theoretically, absorb that Dark Matter in the same way that people affected by the Particle Accelerator did…and, theoretically, this would make them more likely to develop an ability when exposed to violent trauma.” A pause. “I transported Lisa a handful of times when we were helping you guys last year, and even before that for different reasons.”

Len didn’t say anything to this, instead looking down at his hands.

“I’m sorry, Len,” Barry said quietly. “If I’d known…”

“It’s not your fault,” he told him. “You didn’t know.”

“I…”

“Not every bad thing that happens is your fault, Scarlet,” Len said with a smirk. “It’s alright.”

Barry huffed. “Fine.” He was quiet for a minute. “If you want, I can take you to her. You know, so you can see for yourself.”

He thought about it for a bit before shaking his head. “No,” he decided. “If she’s getting what she needs, I don’t want to interrupt it. If Cisco does tell her and she wants to see me, I’ll go, but for now, she needs her rest.”

The speedster nodded in understanding. “Okay.” His phone was still ringing, and he looked at it. “I’m just gonna tell them that everything is fine.”

He picked up the device, ignoring the calls, and opened the group chat, which was full of about a hundred messages that all said pretty much the same thing. He sent out a text saying, Yeah, he’s here. Just wants to talk about some stuff. Everything is fine. Thanks, I’ll let you know later. Love you guys.

With that, Barry sighed and slipped the phone into his pocket. “So, what are you going to do now?” he asked the former villain.

Len just smiled. “Not sure. I could go back to robbing banks…but I don’t really need the money. Maybe I’ll offer your team some help in Central.”

“What do you mean, you don’t need the money?” His eyes narrowed.

“Blowing up the Oculus had a few benefits.” He shrugged. “I know all the lottery numbers for the next five years. I’ve already made four-hundred grand.”

“Len…”

“Technically not a crime.”

“Still.” Barry shook his head with a deep sigh. “Fine, whatever. Well, I’m sure STAR Labs could use the help. And I’ll be back in no time…as soon as I finish this course, which is…not what I expected.”

“Too hard?”

“Too easy,” he corrected, scoffing. “I’ve read all the material, and the projects are all…solved with very little effort. Nothing near as challenging as my actual job in Central. Science there is always complicated.”

“Because of the metas.”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Superpowers make regular science look way easier than it did in college.” He nodded at the computer. “Actually, after the paper I’m working on right now, I only have two more and a final exam. I could be done by next week, if I wanted. I just don’t want Singh to think I rushed through it.”

“He already trusts you more than any other CSI, Barry. I think he trusts you to do the work on your own schedule.”

“Maybe.”

“Then I’ll see you back in Central next week.”

“I—”

“Next week, Barry.”

A sigh. “Fine. Next week.” His phone buzzed, he looked at the message and laughed. “Harry says your sister is attempting a prison break to try to see you. You might want to visit her.”

Len chuckled. “Alright then. I suppose it’s time to tell her what’s happened.” He stood, holding out a hand when Barry followed suit. When their hands clasped, the villain-turned-legend pulled the speedster forward until they were almost hugging. “I’ll see you soon, Scarlet.”

“See you soon, Cold.”

And with the press of a button, Len was gone, leaving Barry to wonder exactly what just happened.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

6 Weeks Later

“Barry…”

“Iris…”

She sighed. “This is getting unprofessional.”

He laughed, a little nervous. “What are you talking about?”

“You and Len.” It had taken a while for everyone to get used to each other, but now he was just Len instead of Cold. Progress. “You guys have got to stop flirting in the field. It’s weird.”

“We do not flirt.”

“You’re literally blushing, Barry.” Her tone was amused now. “Do you have a crush?”

“Iris,” the speedster all but whined, pulling a t-shirt over his head. “This is weird.”

“Why? Because we dated?”

“Yes!”

“Barely.” Iris rolled her eyes. “Barry, it’s fine. You have a crush on Len, it’s fine…but you should probably tell him.”

“No!” he said immediately. “No, that’s—That’s a bad idea.”

“Why? I’m pretty sure he likes you.”

That made him pause. “Really?” He bit his lip, looking at her. “You think so?”

“Lisa keeps teasing him about it.” She nodded. “And you’re both clearly attracted to each other, and you’re always flirting, so…Why not just come out and say it?”

“What if you’re wrong?”

“I’m not.”

“What if it ends badly?”

“What if it doesn’t?” Iris laughed brightly. “Barry, sometimes you get in your own way. You just gotta go for it sometimes. Take a leap of faith. It’s gonna be okay.”

Barry was quiet for a long time, and Iris eventually left him to his own devices.

Ultimately, he decided to go for it; he went to find Len. Unsurprisingly, he was at “their” spot: a diner across from Jitters and CCPD, filled with leather booths and chrome and the smell of fresh homemade pie.

Barry slid into the booth across from Len, who looked up from his phone with a smile. “Hey, Scarlet. Look at this.”

He turned the device around so the speedster could see. “What’s that? Oh—Oh, that’s so cool!” He grinned. “Lisa-Squared?”

“Yeah. Lisa drew up the models, and Doc built it. It came out pretty neat, I think.”

“It did, yeah. I like the melting feature—there won’t be ice-streaks all over the city.” He laughed. “Of course they’re gold—Lisa’s choice, I’m sure.”

“Naturally.” Len shrugged. “You can’t take the Gold out of the Glider, I guess. Not completely.”

“No, I guess not.” Barry leaned his head on his palm, elbow on the table.

The newly-branded Citizen Cold raised a brow and put his phone away. “Something on your mind, Barry?”

He shrugged. “Iris came to talk to me today.”

“What about?”

“She said that we flirt a lot when we’re in the field.” He scrunched his nose. “I told her she was crazy, and she looked at me like I was an idiot…not unlike you’re looking at me right now, Len—what the hell?”

“Barry,” he said quietly, slowly, “I don’t know how to break this to you, but almost everything we say to each other is banter…which is a form of flirting.”

“But—But,” Barry sputtered. “But!”

“What’s wrong, Scarlet?” Len teased. “Can’t keep up?”

He frowned, almost pouting. “You never said anything,” he accused.

The other man shrugged. “I was told not to.”

“By who?”

“By you. Older you—The one who brought me back. He said you had to figure it out on your own.”

Barry stammered again, arms flailing. “What the hell!” he said, frustrated. “That’s stupid!”

“You’re calling yourself an idiot?” Len clarified.

“Yes! I’m an idiot, now, but like—that’s just stupid.” He sighed. “I mean, I guess it makes sense to keep the timeline the way it should be. But still.”

They were both quiet for a long minute. Long enough for a waitress to come by and take drink orders and then bring them back.

Once she disappeared, Barry took a sip of his soda and then suddenly blurted, “Will you go with me to Jesse’s party on Earth-2 this weekend?”

Len raised a brow. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? That’s a lot of pressure.”

“It’s just a party, Len,” he said with a grin. “All our friends will be there, and we can be together without doing the awkward first-date thing…I mean, we already did a lot of that without realizing. Unless you want to…”

There was a pause as he thought about it, enough to make Barry almost panic, but Len nodded slowly. “Alright. But I have two requests.”

“Shoot.”

“One: If Caitlin makes her Speedster Alcohol, you have to stop drinking at least two hours before we leave. I want you sober when we head out.”

“Why?”

“Because, two: I want to go for a walk. We’re not doing the first-date-awkward dinner thing, and movies aren’t something we have time for, but we can go for a walk and talk about things.” A pause. “It’s important, to me.”

Barry thought about this, about what it might mean, but he didn’t see a reason to say no. Besides… “That sounds nice. Okay. I won’t drink too much, and I’ll stop before we leave so we can go talk. It’s a deal.”

“It’s a date, Scarlet.”

“A date, Cold.”

#coldflash #for a friend #coldflash fic #fanfiction #i'm a huge dork #here you go #i guess #brief hal jordan mention even though i hate him i hope you're happy

[decoydeku]

Smartass

pairing: badboy!izuku midoriya x reader

au: highschool!au

prompt: Tunnel Of Love (remix) – haroinfather, Savage Ga$p

wc: 1.7K

warnings: a bit of cliché stuff here n there, badboy!izuku with babie!izuku seeping through, swearing, e-boy hate o.O

synopsis: Izuku, cinnamon roll? Pfft, who said that!? With his jet-black shades, leather jacket and curly green undercut you’d say he’s the definition of a wattpad bad boy. Stupid how he always swivels up to your locker to annoy you though.

a/n: I heard a tiktok song and imagined Izuku singing it to me. This is the result. Haha this has no plot lmao 

 You’d just finished your excruciatingly long, double period English class, piling the mixed books ranging from novels and textbooks into your locker. Your arms were sore, silently cursing your teacher for wanting to go over so much material today. Turning to the timetable plastered on your locker door, you noted your next class before you saw a figure approaching you from the corner of your vision.

Your head snapped up in eagerness as your locked eyes with your best friend, Ocacho. “Y/N!” Her face broke into a smile as she made her way toward her locker that was the consecutive one to yours. “How was your last class?” The brunette asks, shifting the weight of her textbooks to one hand as she fumbles with her lock with the other. “English, right?”

You roll your eyes at the memory, letting out a disgusted sigh. “Same old, same old,” You replied, grabbing your own lock to shut your locker door. “How was…chemistry?” Chemistry? Or was it math…?

Ocacho suppressed a giggle, helping her books to lie neatly in her locker. “I had biology,” She emphasised, tucking her bangs behind her ears. “And yeah, it was pretty good.”

You offered her a weak, apologetic smile. You were in the third quarter of the school year, yet you still hadn’t memorised what classes she was taking…oops. “Uh, anyway,” You leaned against the cerulean paint of the lockers. “Cafeteria for lunch? I can’t be bothered to go out to the town today.”

Your best friend nods with a shrug, “Any-” She trails off mid answer, vision surpassing you and glued to a figure in the distance behind where you leaned. “Oh no…” The words barely come out as more than a breathy mumble but her expression gave you all the confirmation you needed. Of course.

The familiar squeak of those midnight Vans you detested echoed against the polished floor of the hallway. Murmurs and eccentric giggles shortly followed the shriek sound, and you licked over your teeth in annoyance. Here we go again.

“Y/N!” The husk yet annoyingly loveable voice confirmed all your suspicions at once. His musky cologne fanned your senses, as you heard the leaning thud of his arm by your locker. “What’s up, babygirl?”

You let out an exasperated sigh. Jaw clenched tightly; you turn to meet the familiar green eyes of Izuku Midoriya – resident ‘bad boy’. His hair was freshly cut, styled in a slighter shorter version of his classic undercut, curls of green dangling over his forehead.

“Midoriya, hey,” You were fed up with asking him to stop fucking calling you babygirl, and at this point you were just going to have to accept it. “Come to annoy me again, have you?” As much as you tried to deny it, you sort of liked the little banter he brought over to you every lunch break. Your lips curled into a slight smile; evidently.

Your best friend was well acquainted with the leather-jacket wearing boy’s visits, and knew there wasn’t a point trying to get a word in. “I’ll meet you at our table,” She spoke, seemingly supressing some sort of grin. “Don’t forget again, okay?”

Just as she was slipping away, you reached vainly for her. “Hey, wait Ocacho! I’m coming now, I swear if I can just-” But, alas, by the time that half-a-sentence left your lips, she was out of earshot. “Fuck,” You mumbled, mouth twisting in annoyance before letting out another defeated sigh. “Why do you have to do this every time?”

Izuku arched an eyebrow in (what could be mock) surprise. “Do what everytime?” He teased, grinning down at you with a devilish smirk. “All I did was say hello.”

You socked him in his hard-rock chest, grazing your skin lightly on the metal zipper of his ebony leather jacket. Ow ow ow. In attempt to hide your wince, you faced away from him, starting to walk away. “Shut up.”

He hissed at the hit, pushing off the lockers to walk in step with you to the cafeteria. “Hey, wait up!” Once again, you were met with those captivating green irises – wait when did they become captivating.

Rolling your eyes, you gave him an apathetic shrug. “You really need to get a life, Midoriya,” Though your words didn’t match your light and playful tone. God, why are you enjoying this? “Hey, how come you always come up to me and annoy me anyway.” You’d tutored him in English what, several months ago? How did he still find you interesting after so long ago?

Denki, who happened to catch just enough of the conversation to comment, piped up as you crossed paths. “Hah, easy!” He butted in his unnecessary comment, “Because Midoriya’s got the fattest, biggest c-”

“CHOCOLATE BAR TO GIVE YOU!” Izuku spontaneously blurted out, shoving a hand into his back pocket to pull out a slim, purple-wrapped chocolate bar. He pushed it into your hands, face burning with a dark tint before shooting the death glare at his blonde friend. “I…was saving it because I know how much you like chocolate!” The mumble tumbled out of his lips – out of his control – and his gaze flicked away from yours.

Your brows furrowed in wary, holding up the sweet in a strange manner. “This isn’t poisoned is it? Denki said it was the fattest and this feels like a tiny little-”

“Ahahah, you know Kaminari!” Weirdly enough, the usual low-tone of the bad boy’s had jumped a few pitches and had now had a cute nervous laugh in the mix. Is he okay??? “Always over exaggerating…!”

Cautiously, you peeled off the wrapping, just as you arrived at the cafeteria. “…Alright, but if I die or some shit guess who I’m blaming.” You declare, taking a delicious chomp out of the milky textured goodness. In bliss, you groaned at the melt-in-your mouth, letting it coat your tongue. “Okay, this is good!”

Meanwhile, Izuku was having trouble stringing the words together to ask you the burning question on the tip of his tongue – the whole reason he had that irritatingly expensive chocolate bar in his back pocket. Awkwardly, he cleared his throat as you both grabbed a tray and joined the line.

“So uh, the whole reason why I bought you that thing is…” Were his cheeks burning? Fuck what the hell’s wrong with him!? He reached to smooth a hand through his curly locks, trying to craft the right sentence to approach with. With a hint of anxiety, his eyes darted around the room. “Is because I’m failing math.”

You spun to face him, still munching away on your gifted chocolate bar. “What?” Your shoulders slumped – too cute – he thought. “Oh, I’m sor-” You stopped mid-sentence, letting the words replay in your mind. Right. “You want me to tutor you, don’t you?”

The freckle-faced boy gives you an uncharacteristically, sheepish smile. “If I don’t do well on the next test my score’s gonna go down…” So that’s a yes? His thumbs fiddled with the corners of the lunch-tray, pressing and fidgeting against the plastic. “I’d…really appreciate it, baby- I mean Y/N!”

Your smile picked up more prominently, not being able to help how cute the usual idiot seemed in this moment. You held your tray out for your helping. “…Okay I’ll do it.”

His whole face lit up – a beam looking oh so good on the usual smirk ridden face. He should wear it more often. “Wait, seriously?! You’d do that for me?” He held his own tray out for a helping. “I…I don’t- I mean, uh thank you Y-”

“On one condition,” Your wet your lips in thought, picking up a spoon from the utensils cup. “You have to get an A.”

He stopped, holding up the line for a few seconds. A few hangry yells brought him back to his senses. “An ‘A’!?” Izuku echoed, trying to keep up with your swift route to the table Uraraka was waiting for you at. “But why? What happens if I don’t?”

You turned slyly, giving him a look of intent. “You have to wear whatever I tell you to for a week.”

He scoffed in return. “What is this? A cliché? What’s the worst you can do, babygirl?”

“Oh?” Your lips curled into a smirk, guiding him along the cafeteria tables. “Alright, how about you let me give you a makeover?” You suggested. “I’ll make you not only the average ‘bad boy’ but I’ll add some eye-liner, chains…make you an e-boy!”

Izuku could’ve sworn he’d just vomited in his mouth. “An e-boy!?” He spluttered in return, fake-belching. “That’s…that’s…” He kinda called this upon himself. “Sure, fine, if I don’t get an A you turn me into an e-boy and if I do get an A I get to take you out.”

You grinned, “Sounds like a-” Your jaw fell, almost letting the lunch tray slip between your fingers. “Wait what!? I didn’t agree to that!”

The boy before you only shrugged, a playful glint shining bright in those eyes. “Only seems fair though, right?” You sat down next to Uraraka, giving her a soft greeting. He continued. “I get a reward for getting an A, you get a reward if I don’t impress you!”

Your face heated. “Who said getting a date with me was-” For what felt like the a-thousandth time, you stopped your sentence, training your eyes to meet his again. “Oh, what the heck, why not.”

His eyebrows jumped at you, grin spreading with ease across his freckle face. “Awesome!”

“Hey Midoriya!” Bakugo called from the table which sat Izuku’s usual friend group. “Why’re you hanging around with those nerds, hurry up before stupid dunce face steals your seat.”

Izuku glanced from his blonde friend to you, still smiling from ear-to-ear. His eyes sparkled with eccentricity, “Your place tonight?” Why does he remind me of a puppy? A cute, adorable, hot, puppy-

You gave him a slight nod, “I’ll check with my Mom but, it should be fine.”

He gave you a finger-salute, walking-backward to his table. “See you tonight babygirl!”

You wet your lips, shaking your head at the idiotic boy you’d landed a lesson with. “See you tonight, ‘Zuku.”

#izuku midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya #midoriya x reader #deku x reader #deku #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #izuku midoriya x you

[spookyold-saintjm]

6, 7, 9 with Erik please and thank you

6: It’s snowing!

7: You look even more beautiful covered in snow.

9: I don’t remember the last time I truly enjoyed Christmas.

From  this prompt list.

I needed some Eric in my life today ahh yes. Hope you all enjoy this (uh kinda long oops) piece about my favorite sweet anxious baby boy on Christmas. This one is female reader! 

Eric Derekson x female reader

You woke up early Christmas morning, unable to contain your excitement for the day ahead. You sat up in bed, looking down at Eric, who was still completely dead to the world. You couldn’t resist reaching down to gently lift away some of the dark curls of his hair away from his face before you rose from bed.

You quietly dressed before just barely cracking open the blinds taking a peek out of your bedroom window, hoping to find that the weather forecast had proven true…

You gasped in excitement at the heavy snowflakes drifting down onto the cold ground, already covered in a thick coating of fluff. “It’s snowing!” you couldn’t help but exclaim to yourself. You spun around as soon as the noise escaped you, nervously looking over to the bed, but let out a small sigh of relief when you saw that Eric hadn’t stirred. It was a rare moment when he seemed so at peace, and you didn’t want to disturb it…even if you were silently begging him to wake up.

You stepped away from the window and headed into the kitchen to start preparing the breakfast you’d been eagerly waiting to make for days. You took inspiration from meals your family had enjoyed together in the past, but had tried to make it all your own. It was your first Christmas with Eric, after all, and you wanted it to be special.

You had almost finished setting everything on the table when Eric finally made his way into the kitchen, his shoulders still slumped with drowsiness, his glasses tilted slightly sideways, his pajama pants low on his hips.

“Hm, smells good,” he muttered to himself, lifting his glasses to rub his eyes. When he pulled his hands away his heart skipped at the sight of you, wearing one of his baggy sweaters and knee-high socks, your hair tied up on top of your head, humming to the faint Christmas music playing from your phone as you poured coffee into two snowman-shaped mugs.

“Ah, w-what’s all this?” he asked. 

Your picked up your head, unable to hide your grin as you looked over at him, adorably disheveled and staring at the dining table that was now piled with food. You placed the mugs on the table and walked over to him. You leaned in and kissed his cheek, one hand ruffling his already messy hair.

“It’s Christmas, silly,” you replied. “Did you think you were just going to eating toaster waffles on Christmas morning?”

“Well, I mean, I like toaster waffles…” he started with a small, unsure shrug, but you shook your head as you led him to the table.

“Not this morning, you don’t. Here, have as much as you want.” 

He sat, a small smile finally breaking on his face as you passed him an empty plate. You dropped down across from him, both of you filling your plates and starting to dig in to breakfast.

The two of you occasionally spoke, talking about different things and plans of what you would do for the rest of the day, but mostly sat in a blissful silence, enjoying each other’s company while music played faintly in the background around you. When you were both finished and had sat for a while, Eric stood and began to clear the table, but you stopped him, promising that you’d take care of it once you’d opened presents.Eric’s stomach sank. Presents. A small pile of gifts sat under the tree in your living room, a few for the both of you to exchange, wrapped in gold and silver and reds and greens, things that Eric had pondered and fought himself over for weeks on weeks. You would never admit it, never let an inkling of doubt show, but you’d done the very same thing.

You exchanged your gifts while huddled up together on the couch. You’d gotten Eric a watch and some new, colorfully patterned button-up shirts which he was of course thrilled over. For you, Eric had a complete set of a book series by one of your favorite authors that you’d been dying to read, as well as some new gear for baking. You joked that maybe this was more of a gift for Eric than you, since he was always one to reap the benefits of your various baking experiments, at which he blatantly denied but you laughed about nevertheless because…well, it might have been a little bit true.

There was one more thing he had for you, something he had thought about for a long time, something he finally felt was right. But the thought of giving it to you, what you might think…it made his head spin and his chest tight. 

“You okay?” you asked him when you noticed his discomfort. You had gotten very keen to Eric’s nervous habits, the shifts in his mannerisms and his withdrawal when he was feeling particularly anxious. You found that asking him questions and finding ways to keep him grounded helped.

“It’s—it’s not that,” he said, shaking his head. “I—I have something else f-for you. If you want it.” 

Your face softened, and you put aside one of your new books from your hands onto the coffee table. “Okay.”

Eric stood from the couch, glancing back at you as he walked down the hall toward your shared bedroom. “I’ll be right back!” 

You smiled and waited for Eric to return, something dark and small enveloped in his hand. He held the small, somewhat battered velvet box out to you. “I—I want you to have this. I mean, if you want it.”

You took the box, looking up at him, then the box, with curious excitement. You slowly opened the lid, and found inside a delicate silver chain bracelet with a small charm of a crescent moon. The charm itself was a bit scratched, but otherwise the bracelet was in perfect condition, despite the somewhat rough exterior of the box it was contained in. You looked up to meet Eric’s eyes, trying to form a question, but he stopped you before you could speak.

“It, ah, it was…it was my mom’s,” he said simply, running a shaky hand through his hair as he looked down at the bracelet that you now held. “She wore it a lot, so it’s kinda scratched up…”

You felt like your heart had jumped to your throat. “Eric…” you managed to choke out, “…Eric, are you sure?” You looked away from him, not wanting him to see the tears that had already pooled in your eyes.

He sat down beside you, and you reveled in his scent, the feeling of his thigh rested against yours, the sound of his voice by your ear. “She would want you to have it, I-I think.” His voice got quieter, faltering. “She w-would have loved you. Almost…almost as much as I do. As much as—as much as I love you.”

You finally turned your head to him. He’d taken off his glasses and was looking back at you with so much love, so much warmth and devotion that it was almost suffocating, but in the best way possible, in a way that made you feel whole.

You threw your arms around him, the box resting in your lap between the two of you as you embraced him. You let the tears now fall freely from your eyes as you rested your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes. “Thank you, Eric. I love you so much” 

He pressed into you tighter, his fingers curling into your sweater, clinging to you. You stayed like that for moments that felt like hours yet it was simultaneously all too short when you pulled yourself away from him to look down and remove the bracelet from its box. 

You carefully put it on your wrist, lifting your arm to watch the tiny charm dangle before leaning forward to gently press a kiss to Eric’s lips, just happening to glance out the window and—

Oh, RIGHT!

“The SNOW!!” You jumped from the couch, pulling Eric up by his wrist and leading him to your bedroom. “Put on some layers and let’s GO!”

Eric blinked at you in surprise at your sudden shift in mood, but found himself feeling excited too, as you both changed into more insulated clothing. You practically jumped into your boots, and then shoved a beanie on top of Eric’s head before you led the way outside. You ran into the middle of the backyard, looking up as the flakes fell down, tiny droplets of biting cold softly thudding onto your cheeks. 

Eric had his arms wrapped around himself, his head tucked into his thick coat as he rubbed his arms for warmth when he finally came to stand beside you. 

“Y-y-you enjoy t-thiss?” He shivered. He flinched when a particularly large snowflake landed by his eye, and you couldn’t help but laugh. 

You leaned down to scoop up a handful of the snow packed onto the ground. You opened your palm, motioning for Eric to come in closer and look at the intricate details of the flakes as they quickly melted in the warmth of your black gloves. 

“Every single one is different,” you mused. “Isn’t it amazing?”

Eric nodded, well tried to, but it came out as more of a convulsion from the cold. “Y-y-yeah, it is.”

You grinned at him, just before suddenly throwing yourself back and landing on your back onto the fluffy ground. Eric yelped, reaching forward to help you up.“y/n!! Are you okay???”

You waved him back, then started moving your arms and legs back and forth through the snow. “Snow angel, Eric! Come on!” 

Eric blinked down at you. “Uuhh…m-me?”

“Yes, you goof. Come on!”

Eric sighed, knowing he was about to give in. He pulled his beanie down tighter over his head, so much that it was almost covering his eyebrows, then carefully lowered himself to the ground. He almost shot upwards when he laid his back on the ground next to you.

“It’s FREEZING!” he cried, quite literally unable to move at first.

“Just move, you’ll get used to it!” 

He did as you instructed, copying your movements. You sat up as he was moving, and when you giggled down at him a blush covered his already pink cheeks. He soon sat up next to you, shaking the snow off his head and arms. You both stood and took a few steps back to look at your creations.

Eric couldn’t hold back his laughter, your own being so damn infectious.

  “Well, they’re not the worst I’ve ever seen…” You started, staring down at the dips in the snow your bodies had made. Eric looked over to you and grinned, his eyes lingering on your face longer than he meant for them to when he saw the sparkle in your eyes, snowflakes stuck in your hair, settling on your eyelashes. 

“Y-you look even more b-beautiful covered in ssnow,” he blurted. You looked at him softly, your own cheeks and nose fading into a faint blush.

“And you look even more handsome than ever,” you replied, leaning in to peck his own blushing cheek.

You both looked around the expanse of the yard, taking in the sight of a scene that made everything feel fresh and new.

“Y-you know,” Eric said after a moment, “I don’t remember the last time I truly enjoyed Christmas. U-until today.” He laid his head against your shoulder. “So, t-thank you. Merry Christmas, y/n.“

You wrapped your arms around each other as you continued to watch the snow fall around you, and in that moment you knew this was that feeling people talked about, the one that you wanted to hold onto for the rest of your life. “Merry Christmas, Eric.”

#i love him so much i don't think you understand #fluffy as fuck #eric derekson #eric derekson x reader #eric derekson imagine #eric derekson x y/n #writing #requests #anonymous #holiday writing prompts #writing prompts #spookyold-answers

[qupshalfempty]

Hii can i get a scenario/headcannon for Smokescreen, where he meets the sarcastic and witty reader, he instantly likes her and even if the reader protests he already claimed him as jer guardian. The last part I want is, how really protective he is of her, elaborate on that part and write much of it. Really dive in deep of the protective thing, that'll make a smokescreen fan squeal.

I love Smokescreen so much… this accidentally turned into a one-shot, oops. This is the longest one I’ve written yet, so it’ll definitely be tagged as long reads lol.

TFP! Smokescreen With Sarcastic And Witty! Reader

Words: 2,160

“Hey!”

The very over joyous blue and white robot exclaimed. You cringed, feeling your ears pop from the loudness of his voice. You couldn’t hear him introduce himself, too busy digging your fingers in your ears, trying desperately to fix your hearing after his outburst. Damn, you hope you didn’t have to get used to this. Alien robots, some “base” in the middle of nowhere, screaming...

“-Smokescreen will be your guardian-”

I snapped towards the tall blue and red bot and gave him an incredulous look, forgetting about the ringing echoing in my head for a second. I cut him off from speaking further.

“Who?”

The loud bot from earlier gasped, “Me?!”

I gave an exasperated sigh, my shoulders slumping, letting everyone know how I felt within a mile radius.

‘Great…’

It’s already been a week and you had had enough. Smokescreen, as he had constantly made sure you’d known since you weren’t listening when you both first met, wouldn’t leave you alone for a second. Always watching, always two steps behind you and breathing down your neck. It was getting claustrophobic, and generally annoying. You even had to explain why you had to go to the bathroom by yourself. He blushed bright blue, before walking back to the main room completely embarrassed after that. Currently, he was making sure you had known his name, again.

“I heard you the 32nd time.”

I groaned out, followed by an eye roll. I just got the usual upbeat response.

“Just making sure, never know when you’ll get into trouble and need someone to call for help!”

“I don’t know, I could just say help?” He chuckled and scratched at the back of his helm.

“I’m also your guardian now, so we’re going to be around each other a lot more! We’ll need to know each other’s names.” He gave you a smile and turned away, strolling towards where Bumblebee stood.

“Don’t know why he had to walk all the way over there, from how loud he is he could’ve had a full out conversation from here…” You muttered. Walking up the stairs to the human area, you overheard some of his conversation with ‘Bee.

“-yep! I’ve got my eye on them! Don’t worry!”

‘Bee didn’t look too convinced from what I could see out of the corner of my eye, but he acted supportive all the same. Giving from what I could tell, positive beeps and whirls in response and giving him a reassuring pat on the back. Arcee was leaned against the wall nearby with her arms crossed, shaking her head.

‘Same.’ I thought sarcastically, ‘If this is the guy that’s supposed to be protecting me, I’ll be dead in a week.’

With all the others gone and only a couple robots around, it was the perfect time to relax doing what I wanted to do. Since I thought they’d think it boring or odd, I didn’t watch it when others were around. That and I usually followed and done whatever the other humans (Miko) wanted to do. I flopped onto the couch, grabbing the remote that almost fell in between the cushions and switching it on (favorite movie/show). I was on the main screen, about to press play before hearing loud metallic steps approaching behind me.

“Hey Y/N!”

I jumped, recognizing the loud voice behind me immediately. I turned from my seat on the couch, distracted from the TV I was watching, and slowly gave Smokescreen a deadpan look. And if you are wondering, yes he did talk to me a second ago, this is how it’s been all week.

“Just saw you sitting over here alone and-.. Thought I’d drop by…” He cut himself off after noticing the look I was giving him. And something so out of character for him, he looked defeated. Head hung low, eyes cast downward, and sighed.

“Look, I know I wouldn’t have been your first choice. But I’d like to get to know you, hang out and relax. Since I’m your guardian, you’re stuck with me.” He chuckled awkwardly, attempting a joke. Trying anything to be around me, he’s used this excuse three times now this week. He’s just never looked this pitiful. So I pitied him and gave him a half smile, an attempt to make him feel better. It seemed to bring back his confidence, if just for a second.

“So, what do ya say?”

He’d looked hopeful while watching for my reaction, like a puppy wanting approval from his owner. Although people could call me cold if they didn’t know me well enough, especially to know my jokes weren’t insults….. I’m not heartless.

“Sure.” I sighed out reluctantly, running a hand through my hair.

“Yes!” He fist pumped without another thought. “Wanna watch TV?”

“Sure.” I repeated, watching him try to contain his excitement as he turned towards the TV I was watching minutes ago before being loudly interrupted.

“What’chya watching?”

He asked nonchalantly, leaning over me to squint at the screen. His shoulder plate brushed against the top of my head, barely grazing the hair on my head. A chill ran up my spine at the contact. I completely forgot about my self indulgent show/movie I was watching before. My face flushed from embarrassment of what played on the screen and the contact, I hope he didn’t notice.

“Oh uh, just (favorite show/movie). I’ve watched it a couple times through now.”

He leaned back and lifted an eyebrow? Eye ridge? I was too busy hiding my blush from his view to figure it out or care.

“What’s it about?”

I then gave a brief explanation as to what the show was and what was currently happening in it, without giving spoilers when possible. No matter how much he begged to know.

“Wha- please! Now I gotta know!”

“Well, we could start from the beginning. If you have the time.”

“Yeah! Always got time to watch you-! I mean, watch it with you!”

“Uh huh, sure stalker.” I said slyly, without missing a beat. His faceplates turned blue, and he focused on the tv to try and shield his face from my view. I made no intention to let him know that I did in fact see, and I didn’t speak up about how there was nothing on the screen to even watch yet.

Throughout the entire show/movie, he’d sat still. Odd for him, since he can’t stand being bored, so I assumed he liked it. It reminds me of how he’s been trying to get to know me all week, I didn’t make an effort until now. In my defense, I was always following the humans and doing whatever they (Miko) wanted to do or was already doing, which was usually getting into trouble. So I never really had time at the base to do anything I wanted. And I had avoided Smokescreen until now so we didn’t speak enough to get to know each other either. I felt kinda bad, but whenever I had joked with him he didn’t know how to take it. At first he assumed I was insulting him, I guessed so when he flinched back the first time I tried being sarcastic. But that didn’t deter him. At all.

“What’s the main character doing? Why would they do that?!”

He snapped me out of my thoughts, I realized I wasn’t even watching the tv anymore and instead opted to watch his facial expressions instead. He was too busy staring at the TV screen to realize, thankfully.

“Oh uh.”

I finally turned my attention to the TV, trying to catch up and see if I could recognize this part. I explained everything from memory, up until the point on the screen anyway. We were getting to a cliffhanger, and he was already chewing on his non-existent nails. He stared intently at the screen, sitting on the edge of his seat if he was sitting, before gasping when the scene came up. I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. He looked away to see what I was laughing at, just to see I was looking in his direction. Putting it together, he turned back towards the TV. The blue blush from earlier making a second appearance today.

“I assume you like this?”

“...Shut up.” I laughed and he chuckled, not once offering to look away at the screen. He’d hoped to see what happened to the characters, but I’d already known so I didn’t bother paying much attention. I leaned back and got comfortable, arms set behind my head. It felt nice to sit and enjoy this moment.

The show/movie had ended, and we talked afterwards about it. Enjoying each other’s company for the first time this week. I tested a couple sarcastic comments about the character’s and he had laughed, taking them well. I think we’ll start to get along just fine after this.

Never mind. After sharing that moment, the next week was still full of him following after me like a puppy. And becoming much more careful around me, and making sure the others were careful around me as well. From the shocked faces of the others and the occasional raised eye ridge, I could tell this wasn’t his usual behavior. And the reprimands from Optimus proved my theory, he was usually the reckless one. Even worse than the “wreckers”, and that’s how they got their name. After getting scolded by Optimus, he became even more protective. Everybody noticed, and so did I. How could anyone not? But I didn’t say anything. I just dealt with it, not wanting to upset the bot more. Until now.

The humans were all gone, most of the robots as well. I was sitting on the couch watching another of my favorite shows/movies when Smokescreen walked up behind me. When I greeted him, I got no answer back from the usual hyperactive robot. With suspicion, I turned. He looked like a puppy with his tail between his legs. He had his head hung low, eyes cast downward. You could tell by the look on his face it still bothered him quite a bit that he messed up. I decided to speak up after he sighed for the 8th time in the 2 minutes he stood there.

“What’s wrong?”

“Huh?”

He looked up at that, not realizing how he was acting or how he looked. I gave a playful eye roll.

“Something’s wrong, what is it?”

“Just what happened the last cycle...”

I furrowed my brows in confusion, I’m going to assume he meant yesterday.

“That must suck.” Wow, good job Y/N. So comforting. He didn’t seem to notice my failure at comforting him. He just huffed.

“I knooooow.” His helm hit the railing, shoulders slumped over and arms hung limply at his sides. I couldn’t think of anything to say, I’m more of a listener than a comforter if you couldn’t tell. I tapped the couch with my fingers out of habit, thinking for a moment as to what to do or say.

“Wanna rant?”

“Do I!” He took the chance without a second thought. He brought his head up, leaning on his servo that was propped up on the railing. I turned, giving him my full attention. My arm propped up on the back of the couch, watching his facial expressions. He was very animated, talking with the servo that wasn’t keeping him up. He’d ranted for a couple or so minutes, talking so fast I couldn’t quite keep up. But I overheard one part that stuck out to me though.

“-so I just wanted to become the best guardian to try and prove that I can succeed at something! … I just want to help.”

He ended on that note, head hung low again. A pit sat at the bottom of my stomach, I hoped I didn’t add to his frustrations with how distant I acted in the beginning. I shook my head, deciding to try my best with the comforting part.

“This isn’t the usual Smokescreen I know, you’ve been a great guardian towards me. Some could argue a little too great.” He chuckled at that, looking away sheepishly after reflecting back on how he’s acted this past week. I kept going.

“Now, want to watch something, protector?”

I added that last nickname to try and uplift his spirits. It seemed to work, his helm turning a brilliant blue that could be seen from a mile away. He chuckled after the shock wore off, and gave me a half smile back before ruffling my hair with a single digit. The force of it, unknown to him, making my head go in the same direction as his servos. I missed the bright smile he sent my way, too busy swatting at his servo.

“Sure, girlie.”

“Ugh.. what’s with the nickname.”

“I heard it on the TV! What’s with my nickname?”

“...Nothing, you gonna watch this or not?”

“Yep!”

#tfp #tfp x reader #tfp fanfic #transformers scenario #transformers prime #transformers x reader #smokescreen x reader #smokescreen #long reads #qupwrites

[secretobsessionstuff]

Alexi at work (idk if he has a job oops) with an upset stomach, but he assumes it’s just indigestion that will resolve itself shortly; it doesn’t. Micah’s had an awful week and Alexi doesn’t want to bother him, so he doesn’t say anything. He manages to make it to bed, but in the middle of the night, he wakes up with what he thinks is the need to burp. He does burp a few times which wakes up Micah, but when it happens again it’s vomit.

Sorry about the wait! Thanks for understanding, it made me a lot less stressed about getting this story out! 

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

Fifty minutesleft. Less than an hour. Alexi could make it that long. He could push through tothe end and then he wouldn’t feel guilty as he got home. Besides, it was justan upset stomach, probably from the fast food that the team had ordered earlierfor lunch.

As theysat around the large table with their own computers, discussing the finishingtouches for the latest project, Alexi was quiet. He was listening to theconversation and approving the design, but he didn’t give many suggestions. Hewas slumped back in the chair with both his hands resting on his stomach. Helooked a bit too comfortable, given that his coworkers were all focused on thetask at hand, but he didn’t care what people thought. He was tired. It wasFriday. His stomach hurt.

Alexiexhaled slowly and deeply. He wished he could jump-start his stomach to startdigesting his lunch, but that didn’t happen. His belly lay idle, keeping thegreasy food in one huge brick in his gut. He was happy for the loudconversation because it masked the sound of his rumbling tummy, though it did nothingfor his discomfort.

Whenquittin’ time finally came around, Alexi was first out the door. It felt betterto stand and walk around even if his energy was sapped. He got a few strangelooks from his friends who had definitely noticed his lack of participation,but Alexi was gone before they could comment on it. He sat in his hot car, notmoving for a moment, then willed himself to concentrate for the ride home. Astime went on, his stomach-ache became a simple annoyance, until it fully resolveditself by the time he got home.

He calledout a ‘hi’ which was met with the sound of typing from the other room. Alexipoked his head inside the office and found Micah fervently hitting the keyboard.His boyfriend was lost in the writing process and probably wouldn’t come backto reality for a while. Alexi gave him a kiss on the top of his head and leftthe boy alone. All week he had been religiously writing and working, and workingand writing, with no breaks in between. As soon as he got home from the restaurant,he locked himself in the office, trying to meet his self-imposed deadly. Alexi wasn’tabout to disrupt his rhythm for a chance to cuddle.

Luckily,Alexi’s appetite had returned just in time for dinner. He wasn’t starving likehe normally would be after a day at work, but he was hungry enough to go searchingthrough the freezer for something easy to make. Micah was the one to normallymake dinner because he was a much better cook than Alexi, so it was no surpriseto anyone when the only thing Alexi could make was frozen pizza. It was edibleand filling and that’s all that mattered.

It was a quietand boring night. Alexi had eaten his dinner alone, while Micah had stuffed hisface in between sentences. Alexi was sprawled out across the couch, rubbing hisstomach which again was feeling overly full and kinda gross. The food wastumbling around in his body and making him feel bloated.

Eventually,Alexi gave up on waiting for his stomach to settle and went to bed feeling likehe had just eaten an entire pizza. He stopped by the office and just watchedhis boyfriend work for a while. He looked so tired, with his shoulders startingto drop and his back beginning to curl painfully from sitting too long.

“I’m goingto bed,” Alexi said, which made Micah jump in surprise. Apparently, his stealthwas better than he thought. “You should take a break.”

All whiletyping, Micah shook his head. “It’s only ten and I need to finish this.”

Alexisighed. “Don’t stay up too late. Goodnight.” As Alexi began to shuffle away, hestopped when Micah called after him. He back up and rested his head against thedoor-frame with his eyes partially closed.

“Are youokay?” Micah asked. He had actually taken his eyes off the screen and was nowlooking intently at Alexi. It was far too early for the boy to be tired, but helooked like a walking corpse.

Alexi chewedhis lip, debating with himself about what to say. If he admitted to feeling bad,then Micah would worry all night and not get anything done.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?You look a bit –”

“I’m just tired”

The rightchoice had been made because Micah turned his attention back to his computerslowly.

As Alexiclimbed into the cold and empty bed, he didn’t feel like he had made the rightchoice, but it was necessary to help Micah. It would be okay in the morning.All he needed was a good night’s sleep. He wrapped himself in the blankets andfell asleep to the sound of Micah hitting the space bar every few seconds.

                                                             …

Late inthe night. Alexi woke up feeling much warmer than when he went to bed becausehe was now profiting from Micah’s body heat. It was almost three…good at leastMicah had gone to bed at a reasonable(ish) hour.

The badnews was that Alexi’s stomach felt like it had been inflated to the point of apotential explosion. Every inhale was risky, for it felt as if he would burstat any moment. Alexi sat up and rubbed his palm across his distended belly. Itwas aching beneath his touch. He could hear and feel the organ groaning indiscomfort.

Hesitantly,Alexi allowed himself to burp. His nausea was intense and made him afraid thatmore than air would come up. The first burp was little but painful. It didnothing to lessen the sick feeling in his gut, though it did trigger a secondburp. This one was deep and prolonged. It erupted from his mouth, causing himto slap his hand across his face to keep quiet. Next to him, Micah stirred.

Alexi was unableto stop the next belch from crawling up his throat. it escaped him with a loudand wet sound. He moaned and hugged his sour stomach.

The sheetsshifted and tangled as Micah stirred again. He hummed and extended his arm towardsAlexi, finding his thigh and gripping it weakly.

“What’s goingon? he said, with his eyes closed and his voice muffled by the pillow.

“Nothing…”Alexi said a little too quickly in between burps.

Hearingthe pain in Alexi’s voice, Micah lifted himself onto his elbows. It was dark,but he could hear his boyfriend’s heavy breathing. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.Go back to sl–” His sentence was cut off by a thick belch that came from the pitof his stomach. Something warm had touched the back of his tongue, but heswallowed it back down. Alexi groaned; he wasn’t going to last much longer.

By now,Micah had fully sat up with his back resting against the headboard. “You don’t soundwell, Lexi.” He turned his phone on, using the screen light to illuminate the darkroom. Droplets of sweat cling to Alexi’s temples, slowly dripping down his chin.His hand was cupped over his mouth. “Do you feel sick, babe?”

Alexi couldn’tanswer because his belly was seizing. He burped sickly into his palm, but it turnedinto a gag that had him lurching forward. A rush of warm vomit filled his mouthand coated his hand in sick. The force of his next heave caused him to uncoverhis mouth which sent a gush of puke splattering across his blanketed lap.

“Oh, Lex!”Micah exclaimed in surprise. In the dim light he could barely see the poorstate of his boyfriend, but he didn’t need to because he could hear it andsmell it. Micah placed his hand on Alexi’s back, and with the other hand heheld his curly hair away from his face. “I’ve got you, babe.”

“S’cuse…”Alexi hiccuped and jolted forward as he spoke. “…sorry.”

In rough circles,Micah rubbed Alexi’s back as he quivered. “No, no it’s fine. Don’t worry aboutit.”

A smallerwave of vomit shot past Alexi’s lips as his stomach wring itself out.

“There yougo,” Micah cooed. “You’re okay. Don’t worry.”

Clearly, Alexi’sbelly was in no mood to work properly and instead just rejected his dinner, andeven a small bit of his lunch. He retched and spat until it felt like there wasnothing left in him, and finally he was able to steady his breathing.

Alexisniffled. “ugh I’m a mess.”

“That’salright babe. You’re just sick.” Micah said once he had turned on the light. “Ithought you looked pale before.”

“Yeah…”Alexi said with his head down.

“You liedto me. You should have told me you felt unwell.”

“I’mreally sorry.”

Micah pettedAlexi’s hair, ensuring that no vomit had gotten in the locks, not that it matteredmuch because he’d be taking a shower. “I know that I’ve been busy and stressed,but that doesn’t mean I stop worrying about you.”

Alexi didn’tsay anything. He felt like a child being scolded. Honestly, he wanted to just hugMicah and make it all better, make himself feel better. He was surprised whenhe felt a kiss on his shoulder. “Let me clean this up for you.”

[nochuuuenthusiast]

tag!

hii~ so i got tagged by @snugglemejeon thank you so much ! i think this is really cute hehe (to the people i tagged: i’m sorry if i tagged you and we haven’t talked that much... i don’t know that many people on tumblr... and also, you don’t have to do this challenge, so feel free to ignore it !) 

rules are: (1) tag the person who tagged you (2) answer the questions (3) tag 10 people (sorry i don’t know that many people here on tumblr so i’m only gonna tag one or two :( but ps! if you wanna be friends with me, don’t hold back and just talk to me hehe) 

(1) how tall are you? 

i haven’t checked in a bit but i’m about 5′2″ (ish) so that’s around 158cm (*sighs* yeah i know... i’m pretty short) 

(2) what color and style is your hair?

i actually got a haircut yesterday before my blackpink concert hehe so now my hair is layered and it goes a little past my shoulders. i didn’t start growing out my hair until late last year since i used to always cut it short (like, a little above my shoulders) so yeah... i used to dye my hair a longgg longggg time ago but now it’s its original color which is dark brown 

(3) what color are your eyes? 

a solid brown (not totally light, but not too dark) (my mom has really pretty light brown eyes but they didn’t get passed down to me so ahhaha *cries*) 

(4) do you wear glasses? 

yes, but no (?) i have glasses but i don’t wear them 24/7 since my eyesight isn’t that bad... i only wear them in class when i’m too far away from the board. i have kinda circular, brown glasses (lmao, i know no one asked but...) 

(5) do you wear braces?

i used to wear braces a couple of years ago so now i just wear my retainers once a week (you’re supposed to wear them every night but whatever,,, i’m pretty lazy and irresponsible and my teeth haven’t shifted sooo once a week will do ahah) 

(6) what’s your fashion sense? 

i care about how i dress but i don’t worry about how i look all the time soooo... i’ll sum up my style in a few words: 26 year old single korean girl walking to an aesthetic cafe on a sunday afternoon. yeah. that’s basically my style. lol i hope you guys understand what i mean... if not, i’m terribly sorry

(7) full name? 

only a few people on tumblr know my name... but i don’t want to reveal it here since i know everyone can see this, and tumblr is the only social media platform where my identity is hidden sooo... 

but if you want to get to know me and learn my name then you can definitely message me or send something to me :) i’m nice, i swear

(8) when were you born?

july 2001; i’m 17 ;) 

(9) where are you from and where do you live now? 

i was born and currently live in los angeles, california however, i am 100% korean. both of my parents were born and raised in south korea. and yes, i am fluent in korean. 

(10) what school do you go to? 

i am a highschooler. and that’s all i’m gonna say. skool sucks :P

(11) what kind of student are you?

i would like to say that i’m more of a hard worker than a naturally smart person, but i am currently getting straight As and for those of you who live in the us, i’m taking 5 APs (which totally sucks :’( but i’m handling them kinda well... i think). and i don’t really like being complimented because one of my biggest fears is of me becoming arrogant so let’s move on,,, pls. 

(12) do you like school?

hell no. but i have to deal with it since everyone does so :/// school isn’t that bad if you daydream and think about bts all day hehe. but in all seriousness, i think school is okay if you have the right friends to hang out with and talk to 

(13) favorite subject? 

history!!! i know this is really weird since not a lot of people like history, but i love ittt!!! i think it’s really fun since it’s kinda like one big story of our world (i’m sorry, i’m such a dork)... i took ap art history last year and i fell in love with it! 

(14) favorite tv shows? 

i used to watch kdramas a longgg time ago, but i kinda stopped but idk why... but my favorite tv shows are friends, the office, stranger things, jane the virgin, etc, etc... i can literally name so many tv shows that i’ve watched but then i’d go rambling on and on and on and i don’t want to bore anyone...

(15) favorite movie? 

forrest gump !!! (and also, did anyone see the two bts movies? i watched both of them at cgv and i literally exploded when i saw the members... okay, moving on (sorry... i get off topic really easily)) 

(16) favorite books? 

i read a book called “pachinko” by min jin lee over the summer and it was so! freaking! good!!! i highly recommend it everyone~ it’s a historical fiction novel about 3-4 generations of this korean family who lived in korea and then moved to japan. it takes place a little before the korean war and it talks about the discrimination that koreans faced in japan at the time. i recently went to the library to check it out since i wanted to read it again but they didn’t have an english copy of the book so i’m reading it in korean at the moment. 

(17) favorite pastime? 

rewatching and rewatching and rewatching bangtan. oh, and streaming their new album ;) oh, and stressing over the new test questions on the fan cafe that the staff upload every week (i need to level up but the test is so hard... i cry every time) 

and writing for this blog! i originally made this blog to de-stress and write some scenarios and reactions and i didn’t know that people would actually like them and respond to them,,, so hey, thank you :) you make me happy every day 

(18) do you have any regrets? 

yes. too many to count. but i’m not gonna sit here and list them all lol

(19) dream job?

i don’t really know... but something in corporate law (?)

(20) would you ever like to be married? 

yessss! have you seen my entire blog??? it’s an entire fluff kingdom!!! i mean, i know that marriage is not just one big fluff and i know that it’s tough, but i would still like to get married one day 

i have my own little fantasies about how married life would be, but that’s a little secret so i’ll save it for next time ;) 

(21) would you like to have kids? 

as much as i love kids, i’m not too sure if i would want any... i mean, obviously my answer will change in the future, but i kinda want either no kids or just one kid... the responsibility of being a parent kinda freaks me out...

(22) how many?

oops, i kinda answered this already in (21) but i’ll answer again anyway: 0-1 

(23) do you like shopping? 

no, i absolutely LOVE shopping. i think i’m addicted lmao. 

psssss: i know no one asked, but my favorite retail shop is madewell

(24) what countries have you visited? 

ahhh finally... the question i’ve been waiting for... so if you get to know me, i really really really reallyyyyy love traveling and i’m so grateful for all the opportunities i’ve been given to travel at such a young age. 

so, let me just list all the places i’ve been to (an i know not all of these are countries, or out of the us, but just hear me out,,, okay?) : france, italy, south korea, mexico, us (hawaii, nevada, utah, etc (lol, i can’t remember all of them)) 

my favorite location out of all of these places is definitely italy <3 (italy has my heart)... i stayed at rome and i also visited pompeii and positano (which were absolutely stunning and beautiful). i went to rome last spring (around april/may) and i personally, really love sightseeing and history and since rome is full of those two things i reallyyy enjoyed it there. oh, and don’t even get me started with the food <3333 

i also really loved france... i stayed at paris and my favorite thing about paris was definitely the louvre museum (once again, i love art history) as well as this place called montmarte (ahh! it’s so pretty) 

and last but not least, (as much as i love love loveee south korea) i really enjoyed mexico! i love calming, relaxing vacation spots so i got to go to cancun (twice!) and snorkel and swim and see little fishies in the clear turquoise ocean... yeah, i miss it there... :( 

(25) scariest nightmare you have ever had

i would totally tell you guys, but it was too complicated so i’m not even gonna bother. 

(26) any enemies? 

i am a lover, not a fighter (hehe)

(27) any significant other?

does jungkook count? lmaooo it’s a joke... he doesn’t even know i exist lol. 

my answer is no. 

(28) do you get along with you family?

yes, yes i do.

(29) do you believe in miracles?

i believe things happen for a reason... so does that count? 

last but not least... (30) how are you?

i’m actually doing pretty well :))) i was in this really big emotional slump that kinda felt like a roller coaster ride last year, but i’m over it now so... yeah... i doing pretty well :) 

okay, so now that i’m done, i have to tag people, and like i said, i don’t talk to that many people on tumblr since i’m a loser lol so here are the people i’ll tag (sorry, i’m not gonna tag 10 people) : 

@pjmochii @jsuga @kpopsffct @ anyone who wants to do it... 

but yea, i seriously don’t know that many people since i haven’t been on tumblr for a long time, so i’m sorry to the people who i tagged (if i haven’t talked to you a lot, i’m sorry... i’ll try to be a better person and try to talk to you more ...) 

[forestwater87]

Gwenvid Week Day 5

Day 5: Community Appreciation / Favorite AU

To celebrate the amazing Gwenvid community, I took the really fascinating Ghoul AU that @color-theorist (or @color-theorist-art ) created, which has no explicit Gwenvid as of yet, and then somehow accidentally created several pages of momgwen with very little Gwenvid in it. Oops. And probably fucked up the lore. Double oops. Oh well, I hope y’all have fun anyway! :)

It wasn’t anything like Buffy, was the first thing Gwen realized about fighting monsters.

For one thing, it was a lot less fighting -- she wasn’t exactly built for dealing out pain -- and a lot more researching. And not in weathered tomes blanketed with a thick layer of dust with crinkled pages full of secrets. Sure, there was some of that, but ghouls in particular seemed to be a relatively new phenomenon, or were just so uninteresting to the ancients that they didn’t bother writing about them. Mostly it involved trawling internet forums and trying to arrange interviews with the leads who seemed the most promising. Which in itself required a great deal of convincing paranoid heroin addicts that she was neither a ghoul intent on devouring their flesh or a member of the government who would haul them off to Super Guantanamo. All that work, only to have her work dismissed by every publisher she’d recommended it to, and a pointed recommendation by the History Department chair that it would be best for her career at Sleepy Peak Community College if she found another subject to focus her studies on.

“‘It’s really all about the branding,’” she mimicked quietly, shifting her weight in a futile attempt to get comfortable. ”’Just call it “folklore.”’ That’s academically dis-fucking-honest, Mr. Bishop.” Gwen grabbed her bag from where it was dangling off the arm of a marble angel and hauled out a binder and a flashlight. “I’m the only professor under thirty who hasn’t gotten the fuck out of here after three months, Mr. Bishop. This shitty school wouldn’t even have a goddamn newspaper if it wasn’t for me, Mr. Bishop. Fuck, this is cold,” she muttered, glaring down at the polished granite with distaste before sliding down onto the grass, leaning back against the tombstone she’d just climbed off of. “I’m doing important work, here.”

Gwen opened the binder, eyeing the hand-drawn map of the Long Sleep Cemetery and tracing the scraggly line of bright red X’s that marked out fourteen ravaged graves, then flipping to a map of the entire city, which was covered in yellow dates around the church, hospital, and veterinary clinic. She glanced from these to the mausoleum she was staking out, like the ghoul would just appear there if she looked hard enough.

“Come on, asshole,” she said, flopping back against the tombstone and turning off the flashlight. “I know I did this right, so just show up where you’re supposed to.”

It was crazy, she knew all that. Knew her meticulous tracking of local robberies and vandalism looked from the outside like the scribblings of a madwoman fraying her last nerve. It was why she took so much care in repackaging every piece of evidence into a series of respectable, ponderous, academic -- boring, if she was being perfectly honest with herself -- books.

A series of respectable, academic, unpublished books.

Because this was all crazy. Believing in undead monsters that needed to consume the living (or recently-dead) was crazy. Objectively, she was probably rather crazy.

The thing was, she was right.

She just had to find a way to prove it.

“You’re not good at this, are you?”

Gwen jumped at the voice and whipped around, brandishing her flashlight in one hand and her binder in the other -- before she overbalanced and had to drop both, catching herself before she fell flat on her back in the dew-drenched grass. “Whaatherfucke --”

So. Not much like Buffy at all.

Her attacker was thin, stretched out and lanky like a very short Slenderman. As he stepped around the gravestone and moved towards her, his eyes reflected the light from a nearby streetlamp like a cat’s, gleaming out from underneath the dark hoodie that obscured most of his features.

Human eyes don’t glow like that.

She snatched up her flashlight and flicked it back on; she tried not to shine it in his face, but he flinched away from it anyway, hunching his shoulders and shoving his hands into his sweatshirt pocket. The light revealed a narrow brown face that was sickly yellow underneath the eyes and nearly gray in the hollows of his cheekbones. “Kids aren’t supposed to be out after ten pm,” she said, narrowing her eyes. She took in the teenager’s slouchy grace, the way he walked as though every movement was both naturally easy and indescribably exhausting.

“No one’s supposed to be in the graveyard after it closes, but that didn’t stop you,” he replied, slumping against the marble angel and watching her with those unnerving catlike eyes.

She’d found her ghoul.

Gwen drew herself up, standing so she could look down at him. “I have permission,” she lied. “I’m conducting research on the series of grave-robbings in the last few wee --”

“My dad’s a cop with really shitty password protection. You don’t have permission for shit.” He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his hoodie. “You’re one of those nuts who wants to hunt vampires.”

“Ghouls aren’t vampires,” she corrected before she could stop herself, the pedantic need to be right temporarily overpowering her common sense. “Blood is evidently not an essential component of their diet, and -- you know what, this is a stupid conversation and I’m not having it.” She settled back against her tombstone and turned her gaze to the mausoleum her ghoul was supposed to be raiding instead of making snide comments about her profession. “Go get your dead person snack.”

The kid jolted, and she watched his look of horror out of the corner of her eye. “How the fuck --” He shook his head, a shock of floppy black hair escaping the hoodie and falling over one of his eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

She pulled her binder back into her lap with a small grunt of effort. Christ, this thing was getting heavy. “Whoever’s been raiding the cemetery’s been really smart about it,” she said, refusing to look up at him. “Always hits it just as the attention is beginning to die down -- pardon the pun -- and always far enough from the others that the area is totally isolated. But they do it without making it look like a pattern.” She glanced up at him, a little gratified to see him leaning over her map curiously. So this was what validation felt like! “I’d been wondering how they knew when to sneak back in here, but . . . having a dad in the police force might do it, if the cop was dumb enough.” She turned to another section of her notes, an alphabetical list of everyone in the SPPD. “I knew I should’ve paid more attention to their families,” she mumbled, flipping through the officers. “Which of you is the idiot with an undead son?”

“Hey, fuck you!” he snapped, stepping away from the binder and back to the marble angel. “You can’t just go around calling people monsters because they’re wandering around a graveyard. Hell, that makes you sound just as much like one of those things as me.”

Gwen ticked off on her fingers without looking up from the police directory: “Alarmingly thin, glowing eyes, a bit of a nasty undead pallor -- bet people are constantly asking if you’re sick --”

“Again, fuck you.”

“-- and a tricky-but-predictable pattern of raiding cemeteries, morgues, and . . . have you been eating dead animals?” She glanced up at him then with a frown. “I didn’t know ghouls could do that.”

“They can’t,” he muttered, kicking at the grass, “but it was worth a shot.”

She couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride. This was her first legitimate monster sighting! She wasn’t crazy! “It’s all circumstantial, of course. You never really know if you’ve got a ghoul or just someone with, like, lupus. But the cat-eye thing was a big tip off. Also, you know, hanging out in the cemetery when no one in their right minds would go anywhere near the place.” He looked at her for a long moment, and she cringed. “Yes, fine, I heard it.”

“So you’re like an expert in useless information no one gives a shit about, huh?”

She thought about getting offended, but he was kind of right. At least, a boatload of publishers would agree with him. “Yeah . . .”

He looked back over at the mausoleum thoughtfully, and she couldn’t help but be curious. “Does it taste good when it’s been dead for a while?” she asked. She was sorely tempted to grab her pencil and notebook, but that might scare the kid off. “I’ve read it’s not supposed to be as . . .” Nutritious just felt gross, in this context, so she let the sentence trail off.

He shrugged. “A little bland, but I kinda like it better. Got this weird kind of . . . cheesy aftertaste? Not like I’ve had cheese since I was a kid, but like that really smelly stuff rich people put on everything.”

“That’s pretty disgusting.” She couldn’t quite keep the note of appreciation out of her voice. (She’d always been a sucker for gory movies.) “So what’s with the change?”

“What’re you talking about?”

That was in her other binder. Gwen rustled through her backpack until she found the right one and opened it up to a spread of newspaper clippings. “All the killings. Two this week, three in the last two months. I haven’t put a map together yet --” and god, she already felt tired thinking about it, “-- but they don’t seem to have any sort of pattern. I figure it can’t be you because, well, all my research suggests that if you were eating fresh kills you’d be a lot more . . .” She gestured vaguely at him. “Alive-looking.”

He bared his teeth, and if they were sharper-looking than normal she was almost positive that was just her imagination. “You don’t have a lot of friends, do you?”

She didn’t, but that was beside the point. “So do you know who’s doing this?” she asked, scrambling to her knees and finally giving in to the urge to grab her pen. “Can you tell me? I interned as a police sketch artist, so even if you just describe them I bet I could --”

“You expect me to narc?”

“They’re killing people!”

“Eh, I --”

“Max?”

They were both blinded; squinting past the flashlight, Gwen could barely make out a male figure. The newcomer lowered the light, stepping forward. His eyebrows drew together as he took in the scene: a kid lounging on a tombstone, having a conversation with a woman kneeling in the damp grass surrounded by open books and binders. “What are you doing out here? You know it’s past curfew!”

The ghoul -- Max, it seemed -- rolled his eyes and sighed. “It’s not like you’re gonna arrest me. I just saw this weird lady sneaking into the graveyard and wanted to see what she was doing.”

As surreptitiously as she could, Gwen glanced down at the list of police officers in her lap, comparing the smiling photos to the grim-faced man shaking his head at Max. Officer David E. Greenwood. On the force for about ten years. According to some gossip she’d scribbled in the margin, he’d turned down the opportunity to become a detective a few years ago, holding onto his lower-paying desk job for the sake of his --

His son.

“Miss?” Greenwood waved the flashlight, dragging her attention back to the conversation. “I’m going to need to ask you to leave the --”

“Yeah, fine,” she grumbled, shoving her work back into her bag. “You know, I should get a special pass or something for doing research,” she said, more to herself than to the officer.

He cocked his head to the side, looking for all the world like a big puppy wearing a police badge. “Well, I’m afraid we can’t do anything like that, but I’d be very interested in learning what you’re researching!” He frowned. “Actually, you look familiar . . .”

“I used to be the department intern,” she said with a shrug. She was a little older than Greenwood, so it wasn’t like he’d have been working there to remember --

“Oh, Gwen! Yes, of course I’ve heard all about you!” He took a step forward, like he was about to wrap her up in a hug, before his smile dimmed a bit and he coughed lightly into his fist. “Mr. Campbell speaks very highly of you! He’s been saying he wishes more people would be willing to work for no money, but I’m sure he just meant that you did such a fantastic job! You work at the college now, right? You know, I’ve been meaning to take some classes but I just haven’t had the time --”

“Dad,” Max interrupted, “it’s cold as fuck. Can we just go?”

“Right! Sorry, Max.” He shot his son -- though they really looked nothing alike -- an apologetic grin before turning the smile toward her. “If you’ll just follow me, ma’am. Goodness, isn’t it lovely out here at night? Sometimes I wish . . .”

When they were outside, Max broke through Greenwood’s stream of pleasantries. “Hey, can I talk to her for a second before we go?” When they both shot him a confused, surprised look, he shoved his hands in his hoodie pocket, hunching his shoulders defensively. “What? We were in the middle of a conversation.”

Greenwood hummed thoughtfully, glancing between the two of them. “Well, I suppose there’s no harm. It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Gwen.” He shook her hand enthusiastically.

“You too, officer.”

“Please, call me David!” He winked, then strolled along the outer cemetery wall until he was well out of earshot, his hands clasped behind his back like a military at-ease. Max scuffed his shoe along the asphalt; Gwen had dealt with enough students to know not to push him, so she watched the clouds slide like molasses along the sky and waited.

“You know a lot about this stuff, huh? Like, it’s useless, but you still have a lot of research.” She nodded, watching curiosity wage war with misanthropy across his face. Finally he blurted out, “So can I read some of it sometime? I mean, it’s probably mostly bullshit, but . . .”

She’d given up on carrying copies of her books around with her, on the off chance that someone might be interested if it came up in conversation. “I’m usually on campus at noon,” she said. “Stop by my office. I’ve got a couple things you could borrow.” She fought to keep the eagerness out of her voice, but the thought of her self-bound books actually being read by someone was way too exciting.

Even if that someone was a moody undead kid with the most improbable home life she’d ever heard of.

He nodded, a little awkwardly, and started to walk away before she put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, are you gonna be all right without eating?”

He shrugged. “Isn’t the first time.”

Gwen hesitated. It could get so so fired, but . . . “Listen, I work some nights at the hospital morgue. Just like, processing bodies and stuff.”

“I thought you were a professor.”

She sighed. “Adjunct,” she admitted. “Only part time. Anyway, I can’t always . . . like obviously we’d have to be really careful, and there’s no real good way to . . . but if there’s actual murderous ghouls around you probably shouldn’t be so hungry they’ll kick your ass or something --”

“How did you make offering help come out so insulting?” Max sounded impressed. He glanced over his shoulder at David, then raised one shoulder in a half-shrug. “We’ll work something out, yeah. Beats digging up coffins all night.”

David meandered back in their direction. “Would you like to be walked home, Miss Gwen? It’s not safe to be out alone at this time of night.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, sure.”

She knew how dangerous it was. Had written hundreds of pages on the subject, in fact.

But it was nice, for the first time in her life, to feel like she’d actually accomplished something useful.

“Dad wants you to come over for dinner again.”

Gwen jumped; Max had an infuriating tendency to just appear in doorways without a sound, usually when she was deep in concentration doing something else. She thought maybe he enjoyed scaring her. “I have class tonight,” she said, taking the book he held out, “but tell him thanks.”

Max slouched into the chair on the other side of her desk, watching her dig through her books for the next one in the series. Over the past few weeks he’d been going through her research, and while his habit of writing corrections or commentary in the margins -- with pen, no less! -- was unbelievably annoying, she was making more progress in two months than she had in years. “Second time this week,” he observed.

It took her a second to realize what he was saying. “Huh? Oh, yeah, I appreciate it. Seriously, make sure you thank him for me.” Dinners with Max and David were a little awkward, mostly because only David seemed to really want to be there, but it certainly beat microwave dinners in front of her computer.

“I think he likes you.”

She made a dismissive noise. “He likes everyone,” she said. In fact, she’d made it a personal goal to hear him say something unkind about somebody. It was unsuccessful so far, but she had faith. She handed him the next book, watching him turn it over in his hands appraisingly with something almost like nervousness. It was one thing to have someone read your life’s work -- it was quite another when the person reading your work was also literally the subject of it.

“So you’re gonna stop by after class, right?”

“I -- no?” Sure, sometimes Gwen did, if she’d forgotten to give Max something or if David’s texts had seemed especially plaintive; she got the sense that his life wasn’t as sunshine-and-rainbows as he tried to make it seem, and watching TV or sitting out on the porch after Max had disappeared into his room wasn’t much of a sacrifice. But it wasn’t a habit or anything. “Maybe I have shit to do.”

He snorted. “No you don’t.”

She didn’t, but she didn’t need to be reminded of the life she didn’t have by an obnoxious kid who literally had no life.

When she didn’t respond he stood up, tucking her book under his arm. “So I’ll tell Dad you’ll be by after class. And I’m gonna be at Neil’s tonight.”

She raised an eyebrow. “So?”

“Ugh, don’t make me say it. It’s fucking gross.”

Gwen watched Max lope out of her office, wondering if he was aware that he’d just told her his father was lonely. And that it worried him.

“For fuck’s sake, just go out already!”

Her pen jerked a scraggly line across the paper, jagged and uneven like the sudden spike in her heart rate. “Why can’t you knock, you shitty excuse for a Halloween monster?” she growled, shoving her notebook aside and glaring up at him.

He set her book on her desk with surprising gentleness for someone who reportedly didn’t care about anything. “First, Dad is so goddamn annoying, and if I have to hear him talk about how ‘sweet that Miss Gwen is, don’t you think so, Max?’ one more time I’m gonna eat him. Second, it’d probably be easier to sneak me food if you were dating, since it’d be less weird for me to hang out with my stepmom.”

“I’m not going to ask David out so it’s easier for you to feed,” she said, bristling at “stepmom.”

“No, you’re gonna do it because you keep staring at him like a creep whenever you think he’s not looking. That’s third, by the way,” he continued, holding up three fingers. “The only thing more annoying than him being all moony and stupid is you being all moony and stupid.”

“That . . .” is not true was on the tip of her tongue, but somehow she just couldn’t bring herself to say it. The problem was, she’d gotten accustomed to spending more evenings a week at the Greenwoods’ house than her own, and had started to find it more comforting. Which didn’t mean that she was interested in David, of course, but she’d been . . . surprised, by him.

By his genuine interest in her, and his support of her research even though it clearly made him uneasy. (Which was fair; “hey I think those murders you’re investigating are undead monsters” was a pretty uncomfortable thing to talk about, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t willing to listen.)

By how he remembered stupid little things, like her favorite foods, and how even when he was thoughtless and absent-minded it never seemed to piss her off the way it should.

By his horrible sense of humor and his worse taste in TV shows. By how his eyelashes were longer than hers, and framed his eyes so prettily. By the freckles she could only see when they were sitting thigh-to-thigh on the couch, or when he pulled her in for a goodnight hug. By --

Well, fuck.

“Everyone I know is a fucking idiot,” Max groaned, tugging her out of her heart-attack-inciting epiphany. He ran his hands through his hair -- glossy and sleek because he’d eaten last night; everything about him was glowing and lively compared to usual, making him look almost human -- and stood. “Don’t even bother getting me the next book. You can drop it off with Dad tonight.”

“But he didn’t invite me to dinn --” She cut herself off at the look of pure exasperation he gave her, one that implied he couldn’t even deign that with a response.

“Fucking idiots,” he muttered, slipping out of her office.

“Okay, I know I basically made this happen because you’re both too dumb to function, but I’m hating every second of this. I take it all back.”

David practically leapt out of Gwen’s chair, almost knocking her out of his lap and face-first into a concussion courtesy of the corner of her desk. “M-Max! What are you doing here?!”

She just sighed, adjusting her position so she wasn’t in danger of falling and brushing her hair out of her eyes. “He does this.”

“I’m a student, Dad. I belong here.” He held up the binder -- Gwen’s most recent book in the making -- with a sharp, sarcastic grin. He was looking a little gray and drawn, and she made a mental note to grab him some intestines or something that wouldn’t be missed at work that night. When he was looking sick like this, his inhumanness stood out in stark relief, like the crisp lines of his teeth that were too big and too pointy for his supposedly-human mouth.

“In high school! Why aren’t you in class?”

He shrugged. “Lunch break,” he said. Gwen and David exchanged a look, because neither of them knew if that was true. It’d been a while since either of them had been students, after all. Dropping the binder on Gwen’s desk, he retreated to the door like he was afraid to coming too close to them. “What’re you doing here, anyway?”

“Um . . . lunch break,” David replied weakly, his face flushing.

Gwen picked up a stress ball and lightly tossed it at Max’s head. “Get out of here, you little shit.”

“I hate you both. See you at dinner,” he said casually, ducking out of the office and letting the door bang shut behind him.

David sighed, shaking his head. “Do you think he looks sick, Gwen? I’m worried he’s coming down with something.”

She winced. “Probably a 24-hour bug. Bet he’ll be fine tomorrow,” she said, ducking her face into the crook of his neck and kissing behind his ear. Sometimes she couldn’t fathom how someone who knew about ghouls could miss the fact that his own son was one.

But then again, David wasn’t an academic, and he certainly wasn’t trained in this kind of thing. And he had a tendency to ignore red flags when it came to people he cared about.

It was one of the things she loved most about him.

#campcamp #camp camp roosterteeth #gwenvidweek #gwenvidweek2018 #cc gwen #cc max #dadvid #momgwen #christ this is awful #and that ending is very half assed bc I got worn out #but uhhhh #sorry ct #you deserve better #but have this instead

[wingsonghalo]

Project: Matchmakers- Chapter 3

Chapter 3 of my WrightWorth/NaruMitsu fanfic. POV characters this time around are Kay and Phoenix. Posting this a day late. Oops. Also available on Ao3 and Fanfiction.net. Chapter 1 can be found on tumblr here, and Chapter 2 is here.

This chapter: Kay reads a book. Phoenix and company go to the airport.

Chapter 3: Recollections and Reunions

“H-How long have you been there?” was the first question that tumbled out of Mr. Edgeworth's mouth. Kay was expecting something more like “Where have you been?” or “How are you?” or “My, but you've grown into a beautiful woman!”

Okay, so that last one wasn't a question, but still. Ten years, and all he said was “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough to see your legendary battle against the filing cabinet,” she answered, and then added in the closest approximation to an innocent tone that she could muster, “Gee, Mr. Edgeworth. I didn't even think you knew words like that!”

She was rewarded with a delightful flush painting the prosecutor's pale cheeks. “Kindly explain why you are here!” he blustered.

She would have been hurt, but she knew it was just his way of deflecting his embarrassment, so she didn't hold it against him. She wasn't going to let him know that, though. She stuck out her lower lip. “Gosh...I've been gone for so long, and I finally get to come see my good old friend Prosecutor Edgeworth, and what does he do? Asks me why I'm in his office.” She toed the ground a little, her posture slumping.

Surprisingly, Mr. Edgeworth softened at that. “I'm sorry,” he said. “You are right; I'm being terribly inhospitable. You just surprised me.” He motioned to one of the couches in his stupidly big office. “Would you like to sit down?”

“Well! That's more like it!” Kay said, and threw herself on a couch with a flump. “To answer your question, I'm here because I want to be. I've been very busy these days, you know. But I wondered how you were doing, so a few weeks ago I flew in and started trying to track you down.” She propped her feet on the glossy, polished coffee table between the two sofas. “Chief Prosecutor, huh? Nice.”

“Please don't do that,” her old friend said, frowning at her.

She laughed, but removed her feet from the table as he asked. “Oh, man, I missed that disapproving face of yours! Looks a lot older than the last time I saw it, though.”

“Did you just come here to insult me, or do you have something you wanted to talk about?” Mr. Edgeworth sighed, sitting down on the couch opposite from her.

“Sure I do! I want to talk about everything!”

“I'm afraid I haven't enough time to cover all that,” Mr. Edgeworth said, quirking an eyebrow.

She smirked and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. She'd actually been in L.A. for weeks now, and the truth was that she already knew pretty much everything she needed to know about Mr. Edgeworth. And some besides. “All right, then. Let's just talk about what this Great Thief has been up to.”

“Still calling yourself that?” He took his glasses out of his breast pocket and put them back on.

“Well, no. Not as much.” She ran her fingers over the Yatagarasu pin on her scarf absentmindedly. “But it still kinda applies. I definitely still steal the truth!” She grinned, and awaited a reaction from him. When he continued to just stare at her austerely, his arms crossed, her face fell. “Aren't you going to ask me what my job is?”

“I assumed that you would tell me whether I asked or not.”

“Touché. All right, don't share this information with anyone, but...” she leaned forward further and motioned for him to do the same. The furrow between his eyebrows deepened, but he did lean forward across the table. “I've become a professional infiltrator,” she whispered excitedly. She was pretty psyched about her job. Not only did she get to steal the truth, but she got to hide in the shadows and fight crime, just like the Jammin' Ninja! Although learning guitar hadn't worked out for her. But that was beside the point.

“So...you're a spy,” Mr. Edgeworth said bluntly.

“Professional infiltrator!” she insisted, frowning and crossing her arms right back at him. Couldn't he see her awesome new outfit? The way her vest was actually a removable parachute harness? The kick-butt utility belt with a holster for Little Thief? The fashionably asymmetrical length of her gloves, with the right glove going up to her elbow and the left one only slightly past her wrist? The overall darker color scheme which allowed her to be less easily-seen? Heck, even the new key-shaped hairstick that didn't jangle as she walked anymore? Clearly she was dressed for slipping in under the radar, making as little noise as possible, and handling dangerous situations with the greatest of ease! She was no mere spy. Such unfortunate connotations would sully her good name!

“Such unfortunate connotations would sully my good name!” she declared.

Mr. Edgeworth's mouth quirked up on one side in a smirk. “Not any more than calling yourself a Great Thief would have,” he pointed out.

“You may be right about that,” she conceded. “But enough about me—“

“I thought we were only talking about you?”

“—I want to know what those guys were talking about earlier!” She smiled at him, hoping her eyes were sparkling innocently. Of course, she knew all about what they'd been talking about. But she wanted to see how Mr. Edgeworth would react to the question.

To her delight, he flushed again and flapped his mouth a few times soundlessly. “Th-they were speaking absolute nonsense,” he managed to get out. “What in the world were you doing listening to them? Where were you listening to them?”

“Sorry,” she said, shrugging. “Can't tell you. Trade secret.” He looked as if he was about to protest, so she cut him off. “So tell me about this 'Mr. Wright.' He wouldn't happen to have anything to do with that mysterious figure from your jour—”

“That's quite enough for tonight, Kay,” Mr. Edgeworth said forcefully, holding out one hand like a crossing guard and massaging the space between his eyes with the other. He sighed. “Please, can we pick this back up tomorrow? I'm quite tired and I'd like to get home.”

She nodded, trying not to let her amusement show too much on her face. Bulls-eye, she thought, remembering the incident from ten years ago.

***

“Hey Mr. Edgeworth, what's this?” a 17-year-old Kay Faraday asked, waving around a brown leather-bound notebook, which she'd found tucked between two law books.

“Please stop moving it, or I won't be able to tell you,” replied Mr. Edgeworth from his desk. They'd come back to his office so he could look over some old case files, but besides the unique chessboard (red and blue pieces; possibly specially-made) and the figurine of the Steel Samurai (psh, the Jammin' Ninja was way better), there wasn't much in the way of entertainment in this place. Even the tea the prosecutor had made hadn't kept her occupied for long. So naturally, Kay had started pulling down books at random. It was while she was pulling out one of those books that this little one had fallen, quite literally, into her lap.

Kay did as he asked and held the book still. Mr. Edgeworth's face froze in the briefest expression of horror, and then melted into his usual composed one as he brought his teacup to his mouth. “That is a journal in which I keep notes about past cases and my own actions,” he said smoothly after he'd taken a sip. “It helps to organize my thoughts.”

“Ohhh, so it's a diary, huh?” Kay sang knowingly, flipping to a random page eagerly.

“It's not a diary,” Mr. Edgeworth insisted. He looked as if he was trying very hard not to spring from his chair and rip the book out of her hands. “It is a journal.”

However, the book said otherwise. “So who's this 'P' person?” she asked with interest after reading several entries. “You sure write a lot about him!”

Mr. Edgeworth wore a face of mild panic, but he took another sip of tea to keep up the facade. “Yes, well, he's been involved in a lot of cases I've worked; it's only natural.” His voice was a little defensive, but disguised under layers of nonchalance.

Hm. These were all quite interesting reactions. A smile that was just a little evil spread across Kay's face. She leafed through the pages and stopped on an entry somewhere in the middle, pointing to the words, drawing in a deep breath, and then reading in a dramatic voice as loudly as she could: “'Friday, 23rd May. P was a marvel today, as usual. Everything I said, he handled with alarming dexterity and managed to respond in kind, refusing to allow me to lead, as if we two were danc—'”

Faster than the Jammin' Ninja himself, Mr. Edgeworth had launched himself across the room and made a grab for the book. “Give me that!” His cheeks had gone rather pink.

But this thief was not going to give up her prize so easily. She turned to the side, dodging his swipe and angling her body around the book. Then she danced out of reach, flipping to another page and again reciting theatrically: “'Saturday, 5th August. Ran into P at a café downtown. He was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, quite a change from his usual blue suit. I almost didn't recognize him except for that spiky hair of his.’”

“What is that accent supposed to be? Is that supposed to be my voice?!” Mr. Edgeworth blustered indignantly.

Kay avoided another grab and held the book aloft, continuing her reading with as much emotion as she could put into it. “'He has become a fixture in the courtroom for me, and I don't feel quite at home in it without him. But when he caught my eye and smiled, I realized it didn't really matter where we were—’”

“Kay Faraday you give that back to me right this instant!” the prosecutor bellowed, reaching for the book again and again and having it repeatedly yanked out of the way. It was most undignified, and Kay couldn't remember the last time she'd had so much fun.

“MR. EDGEWORTH'S IN LOOOOOOOOOOOVE!!~” she shouted gleefully, running around the office like a small child playing keep-away.

By the time Mr. Edgeworth had at last wrestled the book out of her grip, they were both gasping for breath. Kay had tears in the corners of her eyes from laughing, and Mr. Edgeworth was still red in the face, though from embarrassment or exertion Kay didn't know.

“What do I have to do to ensure that you never tell anyone about this journal, ever?” Mr. Edgeworth panted, glancing at her from where they were both slumped with their backs against the wall. His normally immaculate hair was a little mussed, and his cravat was crooked. Kay took a mental picture and told herself that whenever she thought of him as an austere, unshakable statue, she would always remind herself of Mr. Edgeworth as he was now: out of breath, a little unkempt, flushed like a normal human being, and embarrassed about having a crush.

“You don't have to do anything,” she responded, smirking. “Just the knowledge of this diary is priceless, and I want to keep this precious treasure all to myself.”

Mr. Edgeworth groaned and covered his face with his hands.

***

Ten years had passed since then, and Kay was finally getting to the bottom of this mystery. She'd been away for quite a long time looking for her place in life and carving out a niche for herself, but now that she was fairly comfortable in her position, she had come back to visit her friend.

What she didn't tell him was that she definitely knew who P was now, because she had been tailing him for about three weeks now.

It wasn't constant, mind; just every once in a while when she saw the spiky-haired man out and about. He was remarkably easy to find, after all.

Even though the only things she had to go on about him from the journal were “blue suit,” “spiky hair,” and “worked on lots of cases with Mr. Edgeworth,” Gummy had been able to immediately identify someone matching that description when she'd listed off the descriptors to him.

“Oh, you must mean Mr. Wright,” he'd said without hesitation. “Yeah, those two go way back, I hear.” His voice then took on a disappointed tone as he gave her his trademark thick-browed puppy dog eyes. “But did you really track down your old friend Dick Gumshoe after all this time just to ask a question about Mr. Edgeworth, pal?...”

After a few days of staking out the courthouse, she'd at last seen the man from the journal.

Phoenix Wright didn't look like anything too special the first time she'd seen him. He was attractive enough, she guessed, though she had to question his taste in hairstyle. More than imposing and commanding of respect, he gave more the impression of being someone's bumbling young uncle or something. He walked at an easy pace as he approached the courthouse, followed by an athletic-looking orange-haired girl in a yellow suit, who ran ahead of him on the steps to the door and then turned to face him as if to say “What's taking you so long, old timer?” At least, that's what Kay would have said. All in all, she found herself a bit disappointed with the famous Phoenix Wright.

And then she sneaked in after him and watched him at work in the courtroom.

Gone was the air of awkwardness and hesitation from the blue-suited man. The way he squared his shoulders and stared down his opponent spoke nothing but self-assurance, and suddenly not even his hair seemed so goofy anymore. He said everything with so much conviction and confidence that it was hard not to have faith in his words, too. Even when evidence stacked up against him, and Kay glimpsed the faint shine of sweat on his brow, he offered no quarter and forged ahead. That tendency to move forward regardless of having not gotten the full picture yet, of making things up as he went along...it resembled the way Mr. Edgeworth would work when he was missing some links between pieces of evidence: keep trying to make connections until you find something that sticks.

Or perhaps it had been Mr. Edgeworth resembling Mr. Wright all along.

She could see why this man had inspired the prosecutor. He was loyal to his client and trustworthy with the evidence (as a former thief and current professional infiltrator, Kay had a knack for picking out untrustworthy people), but more than that, he pursued the truth with all his heart and would not stop fighting until everything was revealed, just like Mr. Edgeworth. He had none of Mr. Edgeworth's haughtiness or condescension, however. In fact, the way that he'd slump a little and look so utterly sheepish when the prosecution or the judge pointed out something faulty in his claims...it was so refreshingly humble and unpretentious. The girl next to him was obviously his apprentice of sorts, but Mr. Wright wasn't even afraid to be wrong in front of her.

That humility, that wearing his heart on his sleeve...it was...endearing.

Oh yes. She could definitely see how he'd captured even Miles Edgeworth's stone heart.

***

Kay had been following Mr. Wright occasionally since then, though only when he was on his way to meet Mr. Edgeworth—if she discovered that he was merely out to get lunch or on his way home, she quickly lost interest and wandered off back to her hotel room. She learned things about him: His favorite order from the café (was it the same one from Mr. Edgeworth's journal entry, she wondered?), the names of the people he worked with, his preferred places to walk on days off. She had been fairly confident in her stealth skills during the whole operation, which made it something of a surprise when she'd heard Mr. Wright's pronouncement to Mr. Edgeworth on that day:

“I think I'm being followed, lately.”

Mr. Edgeworth had laughed, but she could tell that what the other man said had worried him. It worried her, too. Perhaps she was not as good a spy as she thought she was?

Nonsense. Mr. Wright must just be really good at sensing the presence of others, that was all.

Kay was even more cautious than usual as she followed Phoenix Wright half of the way home.

***

The morning after Kay had made her presence in the city known to Mr. Edgeworth, she decided she had to be more careful about her information-gathering. From what the prosecutor had told her after her 5 inquisitive texts, he was quite busy today and in no mood for Kay's relentless questions. Well, fine then. She'd just see what Mr. Wright was up to that evening. She knew he went to a small noodle stand every Monday and left with takeout. Once she'd seen Mr. Edgeworth meet him there, and she hoped today would be a similar occurrence. She'd see then if Mr. Edgeworth was so “busy,” wouldn't she?

The Great Thief lounged in the thick branches of an oak tree which hadn't lost all its leaves yet, snacking on an apple. Winter was a difficult time to use trees for cover—the bare branches didn't do a very good job at concealment, and if you used evergreen trees, the smell and the sap tended to cling to you afterward. Luckily, she'd found this tree still covered in colorful leaves, as if it was left just for her. It was a good 5 yards away from the noodle stand, but she had a pretty good vantage point from up here. The enticing, salty scent of the noodle broth wafted through the air. Hm. Perhaps after the lawyers left she would get some of those noodles for herself. She slipped the apple core into her bag and waited.

Like clockwork, Mr. Wright approached the noodle stand at 7:00, greeting the stand owner in a manner which suggested the two were well-acquainted. However, unlike the last two times she'd seen him come here, Mr. Wright sat down at one of the three small seats in front of the stand, the way he had on that other occasion...

Sure enough, a prosecutor in red soon turned the corner and sat down at the stand as well. He looked rather comical there, a frilly and fancily-dressed man waiting for a humble meal of noodles at a tiny mobile stand.

Kay struggled to control her breathing so she could hear the conversation better.

“Any developments?” Mr. Edgeworth said smoothly, handing the stand owner a bill to pay for his noodles. Kay was looking forward to seeing if he slurped his noodles like a normal person or if he cut them up into manageable pieces, but it looked like she'd have to wait a while, because the prosecutor merely took the plastic cover off the bowl and let the steam begin to escape. Kay's mouth watered. Her apple felt like a distant memory.

“No, but it's only been two days since I last spoke to you about it, so it would be stranger if there had been,” the defense attorney responded, gathering up some thin, wavy noodles with a pair of chopsticks and slurping them like a normal person. Well, no surprise there.

“You may be right there,” Mr. Edgeworth admitted.

“I'm always Wright, Edgeworth!” He flashed his companion a cheesy grin.

Mr. Edgeworth didn't offer him any more than an unimpressed eyebrow quirk in return. “That wasn't funny the first 10 times you said it, and it still isn't now,” he informed him.

Mr. Wright frowned. “Hey, humor me once in a while, why don't you?”

“I suppose one of us needs to know how to humor.”

“Hey!”

The girl in the tree smirked at the conversation. Being together was so easy for the two of them. It kind of baffled her that they weren't together together, so they could have these kinds of affectionate teasing matches all the time. But then, that would require some kind of confession of feelings on the part of both parties, and as far as she knew Mr. Edgeworth had never confessed any kind of feeling (except to his diary).

After the two ate in silence a little while (Mr. Edgeworth did neither of Kay's two predicted eating methods, and instead twirled the noodles around a fork like spaghetti), Mr. Wright spoke again. “Aren't you going to ask me why I summoned you to this lowly noodle stand?”

“Who are you calling lowly?” the stand owner interjected in a gruff voice, leaning one elbow on the counter challengingly.

“Er, no one,” the defense attorney backpedaled, looking sheepish. “It was just a joke because everywhere is lowly to the Chief Prosecutor. You know I love this place, Mr. Eldoon.”

The stand owner—Mr. Eldoon—grunted in affirmation. “Suppose I can't argue with that,” he said, and then ambled over to the other side of the stand to give the other two men their privacy.

“To answer your question,” Mr. Edgeworth continued as if there had been no interruption, “I don't have to ask.” He lowered his voice, leaned ever so slightly closer to Mr. Wright. Kay cupped a hand around her ear. “I know very well you don't feel safe walking around in the evening anymore,” the prosecutor said in a tone that was almost gentle. “It's all right, Wright. I don't mind.”

Mr. Wright's cheeks went pink. “W...Well, that's big of you,” he attempted to play it off as a joke, but the words came out as an embarrassed mumble. He looked as if he was going to say something else, but then cut himself off and instead slurped some more noodles.

“How's Trucy?” Mr. Edgeworth asked, to spare his friend the embarrassment of silence.

“Oh, she's great!” The defense attorney's face lit up. From her expert intelligence gathering (which mostly involved asking Detective Gumshoe), Kay had discovered that Trucy Wright was Mr. Wright's adopted daughter. He always sounded so happy and proud whenever he talked about her. The Great Thief Yatagarasu felt a little pang in her heart, a longing for something she hadn't had since childhood. “Then again, you'd know that already, wouldn't you? You just took her to and from school today, and she hung out with you at that crime scene yesterday.” Mr. Wright shot the man next to him a suspicious look. “You're really asking me if Trucy shared any of her notes with me, aren't you?”

“That's quite a leap in logic you just made. Though I suppose jumping to conclusions is your forté.” When Mr. Wright just continued to stare at him promptingly, the prosecutor shrugged in defeat. “All right, yes, that's what I'm asking. From what I could see of them, the girl was very thorough in her notes. I can't imagine she'd do it all just for fun.”

“She did share the notes with me,” Mr. Wright admitted, pushing around some noodles with his chopsticks. “But she didn't pressure me to take the case, and the notes weren't even written with any kind of favoritism for or against anyone. Has an arrest even been made?” he added, offhand.

“Yes,” Mr. Edgeworth answered.

“Anyway,” Mr. Wright continued, deciding that part wasn't as important, “when I asked her why she was always trying to get me cases through you, she said—get this— 'I just wanted to spend time with Mr. Edgeworth and thought a case would be fun to talk about.'”

“Oh, yes,” said the prosecutor, a little sardonically. “Corpses and foul play make for delightful dinner discussion.”

“Yeah, really,” Mr. Wright chuckled.

They continued on in this manner for a while, and when they were both finished their meal, it was already about 8:30, and Kay's ankles ached from remaining in a crouched position for over an hour. Goodness, perhaps she really was out of practice—she used to be able to hold a position for over three hours!

“Well, I guess I better be getting home—Truce is probably eagerly awaiting her noodles,” Mr. Wright said, patting the takeout bowl he held after they both rose from their seats.

“Will you be all right on the way home?” Mr. Edgeworth asked, his tone sincere.

“Why, Mr. Edgeworth,” said the defense attorney, teasing. “Are you offering to walk me home?”

“If necessary,” he answered plainly.

The other man flushed again. “N...no, that's all right,” he stuttered awkwardly. “Thank you, though.” He cleared his throat and shuffled his feet a little, but then he spoke again, attempting to regain his casual tone. “Sorry I made you miss the Steel Samurai. I know Maya never wants to go anywhere at 8 on weekdays, and you're even more of a fanboy of that show than she is.”

His gentle teasing had the desired effect: Mr. Edgeworth was the one blushing now. “I-I am not.” He then muttered in an undertone, “...Already have them all on DVD anyway.”

Mr. Wright laughed, and regarded his friend with poorly-concealed affection. “Thanks for coming out here, Edgeworth.”

“As I said before: Anytime, Wright.” He smiled. It was a very natural smile, one that made him look much younger and smoothed out the furrow between his brows. Mr. Wright smiled back, then turned around and waved as he walked away.

Mr. Edgeworth watched him go until he turned a corner and disappeared from sight.

“Still content with just watchin' him go, eh, Miles?” growled Mr. Eldoon good-naturedly, raising a dark eyebrow at the Chief Prosecutor.

“...I don't remember asking for your opinion,” he grumbled lamely, and Mr. Eldoon barked a laugh as the prosecutor stiffly walked away from the stand.

Kay finally slid down the tree as soundlessly as possible as soon as Mr. Edgeworth was out of sight, and quickly wondered whether she had time to buy some noodles before tailing Edgeworth back to his office. Perhaps if she ambushed him again tonight, he would be more willing to talk to her? She decided to forego the noodles for now, and rushed past the stand.

“Come back soon, lassie,” Mr. Eldoon called after her.

She hadn't gotten more than a few yards before she crashed headlong into someone who had already been hiding behind the building she dove behind for cover. She conked her head right into another girl's.

“Ow!” she wailed, clutching her head.

“Oh!” said the other, also holding her head. Kay squinted open one eye. The girl was very tiny, petite and delicate-featured, with pale skin, big gray eyes, and shiny light-brown hair done up into a strange pretzel hairdo, with a long strand in front hanging down and ending with a round bauble. She was wearing clothing that was obviously Japanese-inspired, cream-colored and pink with a wide magenta obi. Her skinny legs were splayed at the knees as the girl rubbed her forehead, having been knocked on her rear.

“I...I'm sorry,” Kay said, offering a hand to the girl to help her up. She took it, and Kay was surprised by how light the other girl was when she hauled her to her feet. Gosh, and she was so short!

“Th-that's quite all right. It was my fault for not properly observing my surroundings,” the girl responded politely with a little bow. The formal manner of speech made Kay a little nervous. She never quite knew how to respond in situations like that.

“Uh, I'm pretty sure it was actually my fault for diving into you headfirst,” she said with an awkward chuckle, scratching her head. “I just needed a hiding place fast—I don't want to lose sight of that guy in the red suit,” she explained.

“You mean Mr. Edgeworth?” the girl asked, her voice raising in pitch with surprise.

“Yeah!” Kay said, just as surprised. She blinked. “Wait, how do you know Mr. Edgeworth?”

“Um, I hope you'll forgive me for prying, but I was about to ask you the same question,” the girl said humbly, nibbling on her thumb a little. Even her voice was dainty and girlish.

“I'm...kind of an old friend,” she said. “I worked a few cases with him way back when, and I flew back into town recently to check in on him.”

“Oh, I see,” said the girl, nodding. “I am also an old friend of Mr. Edgeworth's.” She stuck out her hand. “My name is Pearl Fey. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss...?”

“Kay,” she responded, taking Pearl's hand and shaking it. “Kay Faraday.”

“Miss Kay,” Pearl repeated with a smile. “That's a nice name.”

“Yours too,” she complimented in return. “So, if you don't mind my asking, why are you following Mr. Edgeworth?”

She went a bit pink in the face. “Oh, um, well...I...happened to be following his friend, Mr. Wright, to that noodle stand back there—”

“Wait, you know Mr. Wright, too?” Kay interrupted, surprised again.

“Oh, yes!” Pearl chirped excitedly, clapping her hands together and bouncing on the balls of her feet. “He is a very dear friend to me! I have known him since I was 8 years old.”

Kay blinked in confusion. “So...why were you following him in secret if you're so tight with him?”

All the excitement rushed out of Pearl like a punctured balloon, and she slumped her shoulders guiltily, her eyes searching the ground. “I, um...it's...kind of a long and unusual story,” she mumbled awkwardly.

“What a coincidence,” Kay said with a grin. “Mine is too.” She held out her hand again. Pearl looked up inquisitively. “What do you say we get some noodles and swap tales?” she suggested.

A shy smile spread across Pearl's face, and she took Kay's hand, allowing the other girl to lead her off in the other direction. The questions for Mr. Edgeworth could wait.

***

“—So then, he got soooo embarrassed that he'd acted like a fanboy, since it was only Larry who was in the Steel Samurai suit!”

“I would have liked to have seen that!” Pearl giggled, setting aside her chopsticks. “Mr. Edgeworth being flustered like anyone else...it must have been so charming!”

“Well, I dunno if 'charming' is the word,” Kay mused, slurping up the last of her noodles. “But it was definitely hilarious.”

“It sounds like you are nearly as close with Mr. Edgeworth as I am with Mr. Nick,” Pearl said thoughtfully.

“Oh yeah, Mr. Edgeworth and I go way back!” Kay exclaimed. “I met him when I was 10 years old, y'know! 'Course, it was a lot longer ago than when you were 8,” she trailed off into a laugh. “How old are you, anyway, Pearl? 14?”

A blush came over Pearl's small, delicate cheeks. “I'm 18, actually.” She looked a little depressed, suddenly.

“O-Oh, I'm sorry!” Kay said, immediately feeling remorseful. “D-don't look sad! I only thought that because of, um...” She cast around for a reason besides the other girl's...undeveloped features. Or her height. She suspected Pearl was sensitive about that. “How clear your recollections about Mr. Wright are! I thought for sure they must have taken place only within the past few years, heheh!” She grinned, hoping it didn't look too forced.

Pearl must have been as innocent as she looked, because her face brightened up right away. “Oh, why thank you! But I must say your storytelling was quite good as well!”

“Hey, thanks!” They were quiet a brief moment, before Kay finally decided to ask what she wanted to ask: “So...any particular reason you were following Mr. Wright tonight?” Pearl looked evasive, so she clarified. “This stays strictly between you and me. I promise not to breathe a word to anyone else.” She leaned in closer, hoping it would seem more private that way.

Pearl glanced around like she was looking for professional infiltrators, and then leaned in close. “I think Mr. Nick is in love with Mr. Edgeworth, and I want to help them get together.”

Kay reeled back so fast she almost fell off her stool.

“You too?!” she exclaimed, apparently rather louder than she'd meant to, because Pearl looked startled. Kay tried dialing it down a bit. “You too?” she asked again. “I've been following Mr. Edgeworth for the exact same reason!” Suddenly, this was ten times more exciting. It felt like having a partner-in-crime! Especially if the crime was stalking!

“Really?” Pearl's eyes almost looked like they grew bigger with wonder and excitement. They shone with interest. “Oh, I am so glad it was not just me!” Suddenly, she blinked, and the huge smile she'd been wearing slid off her face. “Not...just me...” she repeated, looking off into the distance. Then she looked like she'd just put together two mental puzzle pieces. “Oh my,” she muttered, biting her thumb with a worried expression. “I shall have to assure Mr. Nick that he needn't worry about someone following him...he's looked so tired lately; I think it's really affecting him...”

Kay abruptly remembered how worried Mr. Wright had been about being followed, even going so far as to tell Mr. Edgeworth in case anything happened to him, and felt like a real jerk. How much anxiety had she been causing over the past few weeks, and for what? She hadn't even come up with a plan to get the two together yet. “No, that's okay,” she said, holding up a hand. “I should tell him. It's my fault he's been so uneasy lately. I guess it never really occurred to me that it would affect his life so much.” She slumped on her stool, hunching her shoulders. “If only I was better at my trade, he would have never detected my presence...”

“Oh, I'm sure it's nothing to do with your abilities!” Pearl said earnestly. She thought a moment, looking up at the dark sky, before lowering her gaze to Kay again. “Mr. Nick has been in lots of dangerous situations. I think he's just used to picking up on things other people miss!”

Kay broke into a smile. This kid really was sweet, wasn't she? “Thanks, Pearl. But I still feel bad for stressing him out so much, so could you introduce him to me sometime?”

Pearl nodded. “I'd be delighted!”

“Great!” said Kay. “So, what did you first notice that made you think they'd be good together?” she continued, switching to a mischievous tone.

A glimmer came into Pearl's eyes, too. “Well, I guess for me it started when Trucy told me she thought Mr. Nick was dating someone...”

Three days later, Phoenix sighed and checked his watch for like the twelfth time, and then looked at the arrivals schedule. It was already five minutes past when the flight was supposed to come in, and yet there had been no announcement over the speakers.

“It'll come, Daddy,” Trucy assured him at his side. He looked down and offered her a grateful smile in return. Her hold on his hand tightened a little, a squeeze of solidarity.

“Yeah, Mr. Wright,” Athena grinned at him from his other side, the little robotic pendant around her neck shining a cheerful green. “As he himself would say, 'It's fine!'”

“I know, I know,” Phoenix said quietly. “I just can't help but worry about the kid.”

Apollo was coming home for a whole month and a half from his extended stay in Khura'in. He'd had to practically bend over backwards to do it, but he'd managed to secure the time off to spend the holidays in the States. Only a year had gone by since he'd been gone, but it still felt like it had been an eternity since they'd heard his ridiculously loud voice.

Every time the chime came over the speakers, all three of them tensed up with anticipation. Their shoulders slumped when the flight number did not match the one they had on the paper in Phoenix's breast pocket.

Phoenix's eyes drifted around the airport, his gaze falling on families saying tearful farewells, businesspeople weaving through the crowd expertly, reuniting lovers flinging their arms around each others' necks... Must be nice, he found himself thinking, a little resentfully, to know without a doubt exactly how someone feels about you. He wondered what it would be like, having that easy intimacy all the time. He couldn't imagine it.

He blinked, and the airport came into focus again. He hadn't even realized that he'd let his eyelids fall half-closed. Phoenix sighed, rubbing his eyes with his free hand and attempting to keep his mind on-task.

But the more he looked around, saw all the love stories and heartwarming moments unfold in every direction, the lonelier it made him feel. Without noticing, he let his eyes glaze over again, and like a broken record, his mind replayed yet again yesterday's phone conversation with Edgeworth.

***

As soon as he saw the number displayed on the Caller ID, he scrambled to hit the correct button, nearly dropping his phone. Be cool, Phoenix, be cool, he told himself mentally before attempting a smooth, professional tone. “WrightAnythingAgencyPhoenixWrightspeaking,” was the jumbled mess that spilled out instead.

“Wright? It's Edgeworth,” came Edgeworth's voice, sounding smooth and professional without even trying, damn it.

“Oh, hi, Edgeworth!” said Phoenix, feigning surprise. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

There was a brief pause on the other end, though long enough for Phoenix to say “Edgeworth? You there?”

“I apologize,” said Edgeworth, sounding oddly hesitant. “I was attempting to find the best way to say what I want to say.”

Phoenix's heart gave a lurch. What could that mean? Instantly a thousand stupid thoughts zoomed through his mind. “W-well, take your time,” he said as calmly as he could, his pulse racing.

“Well...” Edgeworth started. Phoenix held his breath. “The thing is,” Edgeworth continued, “I'm...not so sure we should be so heavily involved in one another's lives.”

It felt like a heavy stone had been dropped into Phoenix's stomach. His racing heart juddered to a stop. He forced a little laugh. “E-Edgeworth, what brought this on?”

“It's nothing personal,” said the voice on the other end, “It's just...I've been hearing a lot of gossip lately. They keep saying that the Chief Prosecutor is...conspiring with a defense attorney.”

Phoenix felt his face flush, a little from embarrassment but mostly from irritation. “Since when have you ever cared about gossip?” he asked, sounding a little more snappish than he'd intended.

“Since my reputation became instrumental in holding the Prosecutor's Office together,” said Edgeworth, his voice a mixture of exasperation and defensiveness. Phoenix heard him sigh. “I don't like this, either,” the prosecutor admitted, his tone softer and less guarded, “but the fact is that what people think about me does matter, at least to some degree.”

Phoenix felt a sting in his chest. “Well, clearly those people are idiots,” he said dismissively. “Doesn't everybody know how stingy you are with information?”

There was a huff over the line that might have been a small laugh. “Apparently not. But they do know about Trucy tagging along to crime scenes.”

“Oh,” said Phoenix. “I can see how that might look suspicious.”

“Indeed,” Edgeworth said flatly. Another sigh. “It's not that I don't enjoy her presence, but could you please pass along to her that she mustn't do that anymore?” His tone was almost pleading.

Phoenix felt a smirk spread across his face. “Aww, are you too soft-hearted to disappoint that little girl?”

Evidently Edgeworth was not amused, because he sounded annoyed when he spoke again. “Well, I've wasted enough of my time—”

“N-no, don't hang up yet!” Phoenix exclaimed. “I'm sorry. I'm just glad you hold Trucy in such high regard. It's...” He cast around for the right word, and then finally blurted “sweet.” He felt his cheeks flush again. Sweet? Why in the world had he said sweet? Anything would have been better: nice, good, even reassuring, but sweet? Who had ever applied that word to Miles Edgeworth?!

“Y-Yes, well, we shall see how 'sweet' I am the next time we meet in court,” Edgeworth challenged, but to Phoenix's surprise he actually sounded flustered. His heart did something that wasn't quite a somersault—more of a clumsy roll, really.

“So...are you still going to drive Trucy to and from school?” he said, attempting to not sound too desperate.

“Well, I can't exactly leave her with no transportation, can I?” the prosecutor responded, businesslike, and Phoenix broke into a grin. Others could say what they wanted about Edgeworth, but he always came through when Phoenix needed him. He felt the tension dissolve a little, and resisted the urge to laugh with relief. “That said, we should probably not act too friendly in public,” Edgeworth went on.

Phoenix did laugh this time. “I don't think I've ever seen you act 'too friendly,'” he pointed out. “But I understand.” He hesitated. “Thanks, Edgeworth,” he added. “Truce and I... We really appreciate everything you've done for us.”

“Oh, stop,” said Edgeworth huffily, but Phoenix could hear the warmth behind it. “So, everything all clear?”

“Yup,” Phoenix answered, but then paused. “Seriously, I don't know what those rumor-spreaders are thinking,” he said, a little more subdued. “As if you'd ever let your personal feelings interfere with your job.”

Edgeworth hesitated. “I'm not a robot, Wright. It's a legitimate concern. Even I must struggle with my own feelings.” His voice was...quiet. Unsure.

And Phoenix's heart was instantly doing warm-ups for a marathon again. “W-well, well. That's news to me,” he joked.

“You're lucky, Wright,” the prosecutor said, suddenly with surprising candor. “You can feel whatever you want with no consequences. There is freedom in your public invisibility.”

“Wow,” said Phoenix, “Only you could express admiration while still insulting me.”

“Sorry,” said Edgeworth, surprising him again.

Well, as long as his friend was being this unguarded... “Hey, Edgeworth?” Phoenix started again, before he could lose his nerve. “I'm...I'm not as open with my feelings as you think. I...put things aside for work, too.” Was his heart actually trying to exit his body? It certainly felt that way.

“Oh?” said Edgeworth. “How curious. What things are these?”

“Things like...” My doubt. My loneliness.

 My feelings for you.

Of course, like always, he chickened out. “My social life,” he quipped. Bawk, bawk, bawk.

Edgeworth chuckled. “I suppose that makes two of us,” he said. “Anyway, I really must go, Wright.”

“All right, all right. Thanks again, Edgeworth.”

“Don't mention it...quite literally, at that. Goodbye for now.” Click. Phoenix was left listening to a dial tone.

He slumped, and ran both hands through his spiky hair.

If both he and Edgeworth were so committed to finding the truth, why could Phoenix never tell it to him when it came to how he felt?

***

Phoenix snapped back to alertness when the chime finally sounded again, followed by a voice over the speakers: “Flight 0691 from Khura'in, arriving at TBIT gate #10.”

“That's him, that's him!” Athena exclaimed, jumping up and down like she wasn't a 20-year-old woman. She tore off towards the gate, Trucy pulling Phoenix along after as if he wouldn't be able to find his way otherwise.

They watched as each person made their way through the gate and over to baggage claim, Trucy especially craning her neck and standing on her tiptoes to get the first look when Apollo finally stepped through.

However, Phoenix had the advantage of height. “There!” he said, pointing towards the third person back in line. “I'd recognize that hair anywhere!”

Sure enough, Apollo Justice shuffled through the gates, his distinctive “hair horns” drooping a little, making him look a little deflated and exhausted. Phoenix guessed he hadn't had time to apply the appropriate amount of gel to make the hairstyle endure for the whole day.

“Apollo! Over here! Apollo!” Trucy cried, jumping in the air and waving her arms around as if Apollo were on the other side of a football field instead of 20 feet away. Apollo's head jerked in the direction of her voice, though, and he offered them a tired smile in recognition. It wasn't just his hair making him look weary—even from here, Phoenix could see the dark circles under his eyes. Maybe Apollo wasn't good at sleeping on planes? Well, in any case, he suspected he had dark circles to match, what with his recent paranoia thing.

Athena all but jumped over someone who was crouched down adjusting their luggage and barreled her way through the throng of people, separating the crowd so effectively that Trucy was able to run after her mostly unimpeded.

“Girls, please! This is an airport!” Phoenix called, but they didn't seem to hear him, so he huffed a sigh and made his way over too, apologizing on the way for his charges' overenthusiasm.

By the time Phoenix got over to them, Trucy and Athena had already wrapped Apollo in a four-armed hug. Apollo looked as if he was struggling between exasperation and joy. “Come on, guys...I'm happy to see you too, but can we save all this for after I'm reunited with my stuff?” He looked up and saw Phoenix, and smiled again. “Finally,” he said. “Come to rescue me, Mr. Wright?”

A smile stretched across Phoenix's face, too. “Nope,” he said, and threw his arms around the whole bunch. However bad he was at expressing his feelings around Edgeworth, at least he could be open with this cobbled-together little family of his. Apollo groaned, but Phoenix knew he didn't really mind.

After they'd all pulled away from their reunion group hug, they shouldered their way towards the baggage claim carousel, Athena chattering excitedly to her senior colleague the whole time. “How was the flight? Did they have food? What did they serve? Oh, but why am I asking about the flight, haha! I should be asking about how things are in Khura'in! Did you—”

“Athena, please,” Apollo cut her off, holding up a hand. “I just got off a 14-hour flight, I haven't slept since the day before yesterday, and right now it seems like light and sounds hate me.”

Athena bit her lip, looking a little ashamed. Widget also flashed a worried blue. “I'm sorry, Apollo...I'll wait until we're somewhere quieter.” Phoenix wasn't surprised she had relented so quickly for once—he knew Athena was quite familiar with what it felt like to be overwhelmed by sensory input.

Before any of them knew she had been gone, Trucy rejoined them, dragging a huge, bright-red suitcase behind her. “Finally...got it,” she huffed, whipping off her hat to wipe her brow.

“Trucy, don't just take random luggage!” Apollo chided her, looking past Athena's shoulder towards where Trucy was now standing. “I haven't told you what mine even looks...” He trailed off as he caught sight of the suitcase, and his mouth dropped open. “Wha...how did you know which one was mine?!” he asked, bewildered.

Trucy giggled as Apollo grabbed the luggage's handle. “Magic!” she answered.

Apollo rolled his eyes. “That's your explanation for everything,” he sighed.

“Because it's the best one there is,” Trucy said with a shrug, following him as he began to wheel the suitcase towards the exit.

“I must admit, I'm curious too, Trucy,” said Phoenix, bringing up the rear of the group. “How did you know?”

“Okay, okay,” said Trucy. “The truth is, I just looked for a bag that was as loud as Polly is!” She smiled cheekily.

“Hey!” Apollo sounded defensive. “Red is a great color!”

“Well, I'll say this: it suits you,” said Athena, and in five more steps they were out the door.

“So,” said Phoenix once they'd all come to a halt at the bus stop, raising his eyebrows inquisitively at his protegé. “What next?” That was the ever-present question, wasn't it?

Apollo leaned slightly on the extended handle of his suitcase. “This probably isn't kosher for someone of my profession to say,” he said with a familiar wide smile, “But I would kill for some Eldoon's.”

Noodles may not have been the answer to the questions that plagued Phoenix at night, but they sure were a good distraction.

Next chapter: Maya makes a phone call. Miles is saddled with unnecessary feelings.

#project matchmakers #wrightworth #narumitsu #ace attorney #miles edgeworth #phoenix wright #stuff i write #or should i say #stuff i WRIGHT #no? okay

[singingunderthecurtain]

DIAMOND (CEO AU Baekhyun Series) Part 13

Also on AFF

Diamond Mini Masterlist

Photo not mine, found it on Google.

Author: @julietsoddeye​ AU: CEO!Baekhyun Genre: Angst | Smut | Romance Pairing: Baekhyun x Lee Soojin (You/OC) [Written as if the reader is the OC] Trigger Warning: Slight smut??? Word Count: 2,082

Plot: After 10 years of exile to another country, you are finally back home and you were surprised to find out that you are engaged to the son of your father’s long-time friend and business partner.

On this Chapter:

“Goodnight, Hisako.”

Chanyeol whispers, leading her to shift ever so slightly to her side. Hisako palms his chest and laid her head on it. He wraps his arm around her shoulder protectively and fell right asleep, dreaming about the possibility of falling in love with her.

It didn’t take long for you and Hisako to talk out your little fuss. You know she’s just looking out for you. She has always look out for both you and Yanmei. Hisako is like the loving aunt every family has, except your actual family doesn’t have one. Your mother was the only female among three elder siblings, while the aunts you have on your Father’s side of the family are just a bunch of highbrowed snobby pants and they never gave you the time of the day because they were all busy bathing in the riches they never worked hard for. Just handed to them by your grandfather.

Having to meet Hisako in your lifetime is refreshing and feels like a blessing. And Yanmei feels the same. That’s why when arguments as petty as this one comes up, (which is not always) it breaks your heart.

“Trust me Hisa, please. I know my limits. And I will stop when I know when to.”

You smiled at her reassuringly. She just huffs out a sigh and slumps her back on the bench underneath her.

“You too, Yanmei. Know when to stop, okay?”

“What? Jongdae is a good guy.”

Yanmei’s lower lip puckers up in a pout, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I’m not talking about him. I’m talking about you! I know Jongdae is head over heels for you.”

“What the hell, Hisa? You think I’ll do that to Jongdae?”

“No. But with your newfound freedom, I don’t know… Just— Just behave!”

Hisako hisses at Yanmei.

“Newfound freedom?”

Yanmei questions.

“I barely have freedom. I have responsibilities back at home.”

She added with a stressed-out expression just thinking about her life. She loves her family, but her wage is just enough to make ends meet and that’s what’s stressing her. She wants to give her sister the best life she can offer.

“With the amount Junmyeon-ssi offered you on that job, you’ll be able to afford to move your family here in Seoul.”

Hisako said in a matter-of-fact tone. You bob your head up and down, actually agreeing with what Hisako is saying. You can see Yanmei furrowing her eyebrows together, thinking about all the possibilities of whatever decision she will choose.

“Whatever, Hisako! Mom told me we’ll talk about it when we get home in 2 weeks.”

Ugh! Two weeks. In two weeks your actual ‘CEO training’ will start. In two weeks your best friends will go back home without you. They will continue their lives peacefully and you’ll be left here in Seoul, alone without your girlfriend’s to back you up. Well, you have Mia… And Baekhyun. Baekhyun, hmm, could you trust him already? Your heart and mind are still debating. A little more convincing from him and your brain will finally agree with your heart.

Baekhyun’s familiar whiny voice can be heard from the distance and echoes throughout the garden, the three of you cast your attention to where the three guys were walking from. Each one of them is holding 2 ice cream products on their hands.

“Yaaaay Ice cream!” Yanmei stood up from the bench and ran towards Jongdae, who immediately lights up at the sight of Yanmei approaching him with so much gusto.

*  *  *  *  *

With nothing planned to do the coming weekdays, you and Baekhyun decided to extend your stay in the hotel. With both your hormones running wild since sleeping together for the first time last night, you know you’ll just end up spending the week with your limbs entangled with Baekhyun’s  You still haven’t told your friends about your prolonged stay-cation, but you’re sure they would understand. You can always ask Mia to bring them back home.

“Aaaaaah fuck! Fuck!!!”

Yanmei is all scream as you all drunkenly play Jenga in Baekhyun’s suite.

“It’s gonna fall, be careful babe!!!”

Jongdae’s arms are extended wide as if it’s gonna help not make the large blocks fall. Chanyeol blowing the large Jenga blocks with his mouth air.

“You’re so dumb, Chanyeol!”

You say as you laugh at his effort. Hisako’s just silently giggling in one corner, sipping her glass of wine.

“All of you are dumb!”

Baekhyun teases, pouring more wine on his glass.

As Yanmei pulls the single brick she was working on, the rest fell and Jongdae blocks it so that Yanmei won’t get hit by the avalanche of wooden blocks.

“FUUUUUUU—”

Before Yanmei can even curse out loud, Jongdae crashes his lips on his girlfriend’s open mouth, making you smile wide. You feel Baekhyun’s nimble finger caress your cheeks and you crane your attention to his face. He beams at you lovingly when you glanced at him.

“What?”

You whisper to him, making sure only the two of you can hear. Chanyeol’s laughter, Yanmei’s whining, and the background music are loud enough, you’re sure only Baekhyun heard your little murmur.

“Nothing, you’re just really beautiful.”

You try your hardest not to grin with what Baekhyun said, but you can’t help the one side of lips from curling ever so slightly.

“Stop it, Baek.”

You sigh out, tugging and smoothing the collar of the polo shirt he was wearing with your palm. Grabbing your hand, Baekhyun intertwined his fingers with yours and kissing it lovingly. He rubs your hand on his face like a puppy wanting love and attention.

“What, I can’t tell my fiancé she’s beautiful?”

You finally gave in and extend your lips in a wide smile and slowly dips your head to give his lips a quick peck. Baekhyun immediately melts under you. His once tensed body relaxed on the couch pillows. You can feel his lips smirk on yours, both of you not moving from the prolonged peck.

“Ohohohohohooooo~”

You pull away immediately when you heard Chanyeol’s annoying teasing cheers.

“Chanyeol, you ass!”

Baekhyun spat, throwing a pillow Chanyeol’s way, hitting Jongdae on the back of his head. Causing everyone, even Yanmei, to laugh.

“Baekhyun, you ass!”

It was now Jongdae’s turn to whine, wailing his arms and legs on the floor like a bratty and petulant child.

The boys keep ordering wine and snacks as the night progresses. Baekhyun was the first to knock out, excusing himself to go to the bathroom, but you found him 20 minutes later, drooling and snoring on the bed.

Hisako also didn’t take long before passing out as she’s a very light drinker. You were thankful for Chanyeol for letting her stay in his suite again just like last night. Yanmei and Jongdae also retreated back to their suite not too long after Chanyeol and Hisako left.

The moment Chanyeol sat Hisako down on the sofa of his suite, she wails her arms and legs in a drunken bewilderment.

“Give me more wiiiiiiine!”

Hisako cries out like a crabby child asking and whining for more tooth-decaying candies that will give it childhood diabetes. Her lips pouted like one too, face sours up as if she was crying. But the tears were absent.

“You can’t even walk properly without dwindling down like an infant, and you want more wine?”

“Please, please give me more wine. Please, mister?”

Chanyeol laughs in amazement as he sat beside Hisako, pausing for a break from leading her eight doors away from Baekhyun’s room. It wouldn’t be much for him, if not for Hisako’s drunken antics. Threatening on knocking and pushing the doorbell on every door suite they pass by. He has to literally put Hisako on a lockdown in his arms so she won’t cause trouble.

“Chanyeol,”

“Hmm…”

“Chan, Chanyeol…”

Hisako suddenly pauses like a statue. Her face fell stoic, no trace of any emotions.

“What now? If I only knew you’re like this when drunk, I wouldn’t suggest them to drink tonight.”

Chanyeol rolls his eyes.

“You’re so different when you’re drunk.”

He added.

“Chanyeol…”

“W—what?”

Hisako wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, licks her lips hungrily like a sex-deprived maniac and proceeded to crawl up towards Chanyeol. Scared by Hisako’s sudden advances, Chanyeol withdraws until the back of his head hits the armrest of the couch.

As Hisako nears Chanyeol’s hips, she hikes up her dress a little bit and mounts on top of his crotch, making sure he can feel the heat starting on her thinly clothed middle.

Hisako smirked when she felt Chanyeol already half hard when she straddled him.

“Mmm, you’re getting hard already…”

“Hisako, I—”

Before Chanyeol can even finish what he has to say, Hisako grabs his cheeks with her palms and smears the non-existent dirt on his lips. Chanyeol furrows his brows as he lets her do whatever it is that she was doing to him. He was trying really hard to behave himself, but the heat he feels on his crotch from her own is distracting him really badly.

Hisako is a very attractive woman, he’s not denying that and he wouldn’t mind sleeping with her.

“Don’t tell anyone, but I think Chanyeol is really, really, really cute. He’s kinda dumb too, but he’s really hot, you now?”

“What?”

“I said, Chanyeol’s— Whatever! You kinda look like him too.”

Hisako giggles, very drunkenly so, even hiccuping too as she covers her mouth when a burp suddenly bursts out.

“Oops~”

She laughs loudly this time and Chanyeol can’t help but get affected by it.

“Do you even know who I am?”

Chanyeol asks in the middle of their laughter.

“Who are you?”

Hisako’s eyes are half-lidded by now, the only thing supporting her up is her left arm extended down, hand flat against Chanyeol’s chest. He sighs loudly, pulls off a smile on his lips and sits up properly making Hisako’s butt slide off from his hips down to his lap.

“Come on let’s go to bed now.”

“Noooo, daddy! I wanna play some more!!!”

Hisako wails and fusses some more, bouncing up and down on his loins, hitting Chanyeol badly where it feels good the most.

“Fuck… Hisako, stop!”

Chanyeol grips both his hands on either side of Hisako’s hips to steady her. But she suddenly encircles her arms around his neck and bounces some more like the brat she is.

“Daddy, let’s play some more. Please.”

Chanyeol closes his eyes and gives off a frustrated hiss through his lips as she continues to ride his thighs.

“Hisako, my gosh, Hisako… I— Fuck.”

“Mister, why are you cursing? That’s bad!”

Chanyeol woke up from the inclination when Hisako cackles. He restraints her again by the hips, this time firmly.

“Hisako, let’s just… Let’s just sleep tonight okay?”

“Okay, goodnight.”

She simply said and lays her head on Chanyeol’s broad shoulder, his warmth immediately lulling her to a deep sleep.

Chanyeol sighs for the second time tonight, more frustrated than ever. But he’s glad she stopped thrusting her hips on his, or heaven knows what will happen if she didn’t. His self-control is shorter than usual because of the alcohol he consumed tonight.

He’d be lying if he said the kiss they shared on the night of Minseok’s wedding didn’t make his heart flutter, but he needs to make sure if he’s actually developing a liking for her or if those little reactions in his chest whenever he looks at her are only fleeting feelings that will eventually dissipate through time.

Hisako shuffles lightly in his embrace to position her head more comfortably on Chanyeol’s shoulder, nuzzling her face on the crook of his long and pleasantly warm neck.

Being careful not to wake her up, Chanyeol gently carried Hisako inside the room and softly lay her on the bed.

He removes her sandals and wraps her body in the duvet, quickly turning off the lights before silently crawling on the bed next to her.

“Goodnight, Hisako.”

Chanyeol whispers, leading her to shift ever so slightly to her side. Hisako palms his chest and laid her head on it. He wraps his arm around her shoulder protectively and fell right asleep, dreaming about the possibility of falling in love with her.

#exowritersnet #exosnet #kpopwritingnet #kloversnet #byun baekhyun #baekhyun #angst #smut #fluff #exo fanfiction #chanyeol #park chanyeol #baekhyun x oc #chanyeol x oc #chen x oc #jongdae x oc #chen #kim jongdae #kim chen #kim junmyeon #suho #xiumin #kim minseok #lay #zhang yixing #d.o. #do kyungsoo #kai #kim jongin #sehun

[adashofperil]

Oops here’s an Intro

A H hi my lovelies! 

In all honesty, I didn’t realize that introductions were a thing —or how to really organize a writeblr at all whoops. I’m entirely new to Tumblr, actually, not having used it for more than approx 3 weeks?  I had n o clue where I was going with this and was so excited to the thought of a writeblr that I jumped right into it. So — here’s my intro guys. (I’ve seen intros spread like a wildfire, and in all honesty it’s absolutely enchanting and terrifying at once)

You can call me pretzels, she/her, 16 (a student! - kinda younger than most of you but o whale), Chinese (I wield chopsticks like a pen - self satisfying and with vigor yet horrendously messy, spilling content with every other movement), as sexually confused as the characters in a WIP of mine (that i’m gonna introduce you to soon HEHE), absolutely in love with writing (hence, the writeblr).

I’m so, so, so, so soooo excited to be making a writeblr because I’ve always been actively trying to find a versatile, inclusive, chill platform that I can upload my work on (or, y’know, cry abt with) as well as meet fellow writers in <3 

Add me in your tag games, send me writing requests, ask for advice, etc etc etc - i’ll love you forever! Please reblog so that I can follow you back (especially if you happen to be a writeblr/booklr too).

Random facts bc why not - 

My favorite color is yellow - the watered down, diluted kind, pastel-ish but lighter. My second favorite color is orange, the loud, bombastic kind.

I have 2 bunz, Buster and Shakespeare. They don’t look anything like each other, but they’re bros.

Hmmm last one. Let’s end this on a good and write-mood note. If you’ve read a post earlier that I reblogged, I kinda explained my own experience and how I’ve been in a massive slump (bless @nicholewrites​ <3). But these last few months, I’ve been redefining my writing experience and have truly begun caring about what I write. Writing is fun, it’s a m a z i n g, it’s an adrenaline rush and pride and glory, but I’m beginning to incorporate more meaning, depth, into my writing. I care. I care so much. I care in a way that transcends all of my previous experiences in writing. I’ve always fell in love with my characters and plots and world building, but it’s transcend that, even. I’m taking into consideration my own experiences and writing the kinda things I wish I’d seen in my earlier years, and it’s a self satisfying, almost self indulgent feeling that makes writing feel not just fun but important but necessary. 

Weeelll. Whoever had the patience/time/energy/etc to read that, thank you, I love you. If you didn’t read all of it, I love you anyways. I’m so happy to just be a part of this 

It’s a pleasure meeting you, it’s a pleasure to be here. Please have a wonderful day have a wonderful life i hope you have a thousand shining puppies ready for your every beckoning and infinite hot chocolate and whoooooooo have a wonderful existence!!!!!!

(i’ve gone off an adrenaline rush by typing all this up, as you might be able to tell. Oops bye!

#writeblr intro #writeblr #writers on tumblr #other writeblrs #writing #fiction #new to writeblr

[itsabeautifulmidnight]

10 Songs tag thingy

I was tagged by @g-odzilla​ (ily my friend)

The rules are to shuffle w/e music thing you use and list the first ten songs that come up with explanations about why you like it and your fave lyrics and so on. then you have to tag ten people :)

I’ll put it under a read more bc it’ll probably get kinda long oops (and potentially kinda depressing so don’t worry about actually reading what I said)

People I’m tagging : @rambling-nerd @howardtjmoon @orwells @the-annoying-and-the-useless @pandickgrayson @dickie-gayson @martemartinelli @thewinterstardust @thetinyredpanda @vorchagirl

Even if I tag you, you don’t have to do anything!!

Song 1 - idfc // Blackbear

Tell me pretty lies, Look me in the face, Tell me that you love me, Even if it's fake

Idk I heard this song on a playlist I was listening to, and I kinda just fell in love with it? The lyrics aren’t happy but it just really resonated with me for some reason. I’ve dealt with shitty things like this, and it was nice to know that there’s a song out there that kinda represents how I feel.

Song 2 - Dirty Laundry // All Time Low

I don't believe in saints They never make mistakes

I just really,, really loved this song the first time I heard it. It’s such a different sound to their other stuff, but I still absolutely love it. I actually went to see ALT live last month with a close friend, and it was such an amazing atmosphere there. I miss going to see bands perform live.

Song 3 - Outlaws // Delta Rae

Don't you know that we're outlaws? Giving the finger to death itself We got no one to hide from We got no one to toast our health

Once again, I heard this song on a playlist I was listening to. It sounds like such an upbeat song, and helped to pull me out of a massive slump I’d been in for a good few weeks. The people in the song don’t know what they’re going to do, but they know that they can do whatever and that really was a message I needed.

Song 4 - A New Hope // Broken Iris

Spent a lifetime of holding on, Just to let go. I guess I'll spend another lifetime, Searching for a new hope.

I found this song a good few years ago for a performance I was doing and I just fell in love with it?? It helped me through quite a difficult period of time in my life, and the memories it holds aren’t exactly nice but they remind me that I survived.

Song 5 - Run Boy Run // Woodkid

Tomorrow is another day And you won’t have to hide away You’ll be a man, boy! But for now it’s time to run, it’s time to run!

Guess where I heard this song? That’s right - that playlist I keep mentioning! It was just a really catchy song and I love dancing around my kitchen when I’m cooking or washing up!

Song 6 - My Demons // Starset

They’re all around me, Circling like vultures. They wanna break me And wash away my colours.

I knew some people who are like this - they wanted to change who I was (and they kinda succeeded oops lmao), but listening to this song just makes me feel really happy and powerful??

Song 7 - Heathens // Twenty One Pilots 

Please don't make any sudden moves You don't know the half of the abuse

I heard this on the Suicide Squad soundtrack when I was in the cinema? And I just really liked listening to it. My friend really likes Twenty One Pilots, and so whenever I hear this song I think of her and it makes me smile.

Song 8 - Run // Delta Rae

And all my life I’ve been burning by the dreams I’ve had Now I want to run

It’s just such a catchy song?? Like, I often play it while I’m dancing or cooking, and it just brings a smile to my face.

Song 9 - Her Name Is Alice // Shinedown

Sometimes the curiosity can kill the soul but leave the pain And every ounce of innocence is left inside her brain

I danced to this in a showcase, and it was the first dance I choreographed that I actually performed in front of people?? Like, it was an awful dance and I’d dislocated my shoulder & popped my knee out of joint just before the dance started but it was super enjoyable to do?? Good memories

Song 10 - Angel With A Shotgun // The Cab

I'm an angel with a shotgun Fighting til' the wars won I don't care if heaven won't take me back

I adore this song?? It’s just got so much energy in and is really fun to sing along to dramatically?? It’s just wonderful

#Mine #tag meme