#I was gonna do a joke pin up drawing with him holding the cat like megan fox in that one picture where it covers her naked torso

[weaponizedmoth]

For the art requests - is it ok to ask for Dr Orpheus enjoying chill out time with his cat Simba? lol

Absolutely.

[ratcash-wasgud]

CAN WE PLS PLS PLS GET A PT2 TO NEKO OF THE WEST OMG!!!!

mdni :p

ℕ𝕖𝕜𝕠 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕀𝕀.

When Ringo arrives back from the town, he finds Mizu curnsing under her breath and slashing trees in half.

"Master! What's the matter? And where is-" He looks around, rubbing his nibs together nervously.

"Oh, the stray cat is gone. But she left me with everything I need." Lies. She needed you too. "I'm gonna get going tomorrow." She sneers. She now has two goals. Slaying the white men, and showing you your place. You can't just leave like that after she has been so vulnerable with you! Ungrateful little bitch. Mizu is seething. She knows it probably ment nothing to you. It was just a slip up for Mizu too, she just got lost in the moment. It's just that she haven't felt human touch for years now, and you looked so pretty panting, and out of breath, looking at her in suuuch a cocky way with her blade to your throat... Oh, she'll show you.

She'll defeat you, have you at her feet, then beg her to spare you, crawling back to her lap, like a good little domestic kitten would. Yeah. Then she'll let you play with Fowler's head. She'll fucking show you.

She leaves Ringo at an inn, and she follows your instructions to find Fowler's castle. She gets through the tunnel, and starts slashing soldiers left and right. The traps are fucking cruel though and she ends up with a stick through her foot. She gets through everything, even drug monkeys, undead prisoners, and a whole ass giant. In the end though, she is met with...Taigen. Bloody, barely alive, tied to a chair in the middle of a room. She rushes to his side, hurrying to untie him. "Taigen-"

"Mizu..." Taigen croacks out, his eyes fluttering open. "N-no, run it's a-"

"Trap?" She hears a familiar voice from behind her as the door shuts. She turns around, her eyes meet yours in a glare. "Look who the cat dragged in!" You grin into her face. "Glad you could make it." You say, your eyes dripping with that fucking sly mischief.

"Wouldn't miss it." Mizu basically barks at you. "So you did come back to that dickhead? Pathetic." She says, holding up her makeshift sword she got from one of the soldiers.

You shrug, as you spin your gun on your finger. "Hey, what's home's home." You say and shoot her a shiteating grin.

"I pity you if this is home for you." Mizu says right back, glaring through your soul, as if you even have one.

"Ey, atleast I have one." You say, and quickly fire at her, the bullet shooting right next to her head, biting through a single strand of hair.

Mizu reacts quickly, attacking you withouth hesitation. You dodge, making her weaping slice through the wall. You turn, grabbing her wrist for a second, pushing her against the wall, and slamming her head against it. But the determined bitch she is, Mizu ignores the pain, and heabutts you in response. You two keep being at eachother's throats with Taigen barely not passing out in the chair, until Mizu overpowers you, and pins you down, with her sword at your throat.

"What a familiar situation." You grin at her, and she pushes her blade into your collarbone, drawing blood.

"Drop the fucking act already." Mizu barks into your face. "Just tell me which room he's in and I'll spare you."

You scoff. "Yeah, turns out, I kinda don't want you to kill him." You pout, as if it's a light thing. It makes Mizu's blood boil. "I kinda need him for like...a couple weeks more until he kills the shogun." You shrug. Lies, by the way. You don't give a fuck if when he dies, or if the shogun dies, you just don't want her to attemp to murder him.

Why? Simple. He'll kill her, you're sure.

"You don't have a choice." Mizu says, her eyes cold, but insides she's burning with rage. Was this all a damn game to you? Was she a joke? Was her moaning under you, moaning with you meant fucking nothing?

"Yeaaaah," Suddenly she feels the familiar cold of your gun, She turns her head, and see it pointed at Taigen's unmoving form. "I kinda do." You say, your eyes narrowing.

That's the moment Mizu realizes, she can't tame you. She can't make a house kitten out of you. You'll never stick by her side. Or anyone's for the matter. So...she'll need to keep you on a leash. She'll put so much catnip in your mouth you won't be able to bite, she'll cut your nails so you won't scratch, and she'll tear your whiskers out so you won't be able to run straight. Alone, that is. It'll hurt, but it will be worth it.

She then, with one small movement of her wrist, cuts through your shoulder, not deep enough to make you actually bleed out, but enough to make you weak. She gets off you, leaving you there, whimpering. "F-Fuckin' b-bitch...G-Go and d-die then! G-Go and fuckin'...die by his greasy hands...ugh!" You keep moaning in pain, depserately pushing your palm against your bleeding wound.

Mizu looks at you, wanting nothing more than to comfort you, but she knows that'll do her no good in the long run, so she just picks up Taigen, and leaves the room. She'll come back for you when you're unconcious if she's lucky.

It takes her a long while to get to and find Fowler's room all while carrying the deadweight of Taigen, but still, she does. After the fight, she does not have time to go back for you though, since she's fallen into the ice cold river along with that fat bastard.

Ringo rescues her and Taigen, bringing them back to master Eiji. The time she spends there while she recovers can only be described as a storm. She's mad. Her sword is broken, she didn't kill Fowler, and she left you there too. Ugh, what a failiure.

"So," Mizu lazily sits next to Taigen inside the little house, staring at the fire. "How did you...keep Akemi?" She mumbles under her nose, Taigen almost not even hearing it.

"Hm?" Taigen reaises an eyebrow. "Jealous?" He says with a smug smirk and Mizu groans loudly.

"Fuck no." She says, shooting him a glare and then rolling her eyes. "It's just seems...hard, to tie a woman down." She shrugs.

Everyone left Mizu when they had a chance, so this time, she won't take chances. She won't give you one. You left her once already, and to your own shit-luck, she wan't you to stay more that she realizes.

"You can't really tie a woman down, only with marriage." Taigen answers simply. "But before that, you have to convince her that you're worth it. That you can give her a good life."

"Well that's not really an option for me, is it?" Mizu groans. What a useless answer.

"Wait...you wanna catch a wife?" Taigen's eyes widen. "Oh, don't tell me, you already have someone you want? Oh, that's funny!" He snickers.

"You're fucking annoying. I don't even know why I was asking you." She grumbles, ready to stand up, but Taigen stops her. "Wait, no. Okay." Taigen steadies himself, putting on a straight face. "I'm sure if you keep your glasses on, and keep your mouth shut all the time, she'll like you." He finishes with that bitch-ass smirk.

Mizu just yanks her arm away and walks off, grumbling. Taigen is stupid. She'll show him too. She'll show everyone. She'll slay down Flower, then she'll walk away with you, crying for her in her arms. Great plan.

You even accidentaly told her that he's planning on killing the shogun, so she'll know where to go. You're already playing right into her hands. Yeah, maybe she's obsessing over you a little, and yeah, it's probably unhealthy, but do you really expect any healthy emotions from that woman? No, the answer should be no.

So, on the day when she meets Fowler again, she marches into the room he's in with the Shogun, but when she gets there, the Shogun and his family are already gone, and she's met with Fowler's gun to your forehead, yours to his heart with Heiji Shindo's body still fresh on the ground. She gasps out your name.

Fowler's head turns to her, and Mizu glares. "Hm? Ye two know eachother?" He asks casually, motioning between you two. "So that's why yer betraying me, eh? Foolish little girl." He scoffs.

You just roll your eyes. "I'm not betraying you, dumbass." You say, liglty poking his chest with your gun. "I'm simply dethroning you."

"And you wanted the help of this demon right 'ere?" He nods towards Mizu. "Is that why ya were gone for days? Ya were with the guy tryin' to kill me? Pffft!" He says with mock offense.

"No, he just happens to be here." The banter between you two is amusing to Mizu. You're talking to this piece of shit while holding eachother at gunpoint like you'd talk to an old friend after they stole your lunch.

"Hey, demon," Fowler says to Mizu, getting her attention. "Ya don' wanna team up with this girl right 'ere. See? She's betraying me too, she'd do the same to you."

"Oh, shut up." You roll your eyes. "First of all, I'm not teaming up with him. Second of all...can you butt out of my personal relationships?"

"She's not even from 'round here. Found her back in London." Fowler says casually, ligtly poking your head with his gun. "Is' true. Her parents are japanese though, they got captured during the war, but couldn't help but fuck like bunnies in their cell and make this lil' bitch."

"Ugh, that was unnecessary." You say, fireing a shot into the wall to silence him. "Next one's gonna be in your heart, shithead."

"Now now, let daddy handle stuff." He says with a chuckle.

"You're not my fucki-" but before you could protest any further, Fowler's other hand swings up, hitting you in the head, almost crushing your skull, making you lose conciousness.

The next time you wake up, the harsh sun invades your eyeballs, making you groan. When you finally manage to accommodate your inveroment, you look around. You're on a ship, which is definetly moving. You see a siluette in the sun, and as it notices that you're awake, it walks closer. It's Mizu. She looks different though. She looks a lot more...relaxed. She has her bangs down, and she's wearing a simple kimono. She looks...very feminine. And beautiful, if you do say so yourself. You understand why you lost control and slept with her that night.

"Hey," You squint at her. "Can I ask, if it's like, not too much...what the fuck is going on?" You sit up hazily.

"We're leaving. To London." She says casually, sitting down next to you. Your eyes snap wide opening, shining in the bright sun.

"Are fucking serious?" That's wha Mizu wanted to see. You lighting up, eating all of her words up.

"Yeah...Fowler's tied up down there, but he'll help me. He'll help me find the other white men." She says, looking ahead to the seemingly endless water.

"And you're taking me...with you. To London. I can finally leave." Your smile becomes bright, almost more blinding that the sun. It's the first truly genuine smile Mizu saw from you. And fuck, it does things to her.

"Mhm...you're not leaving my side after this." Mizu breathes out, leaning back on her hands, turning her attention to the cloud.

Your eyebrows knot together. "What? I'm not gonna stick around to watch your boring ass quest. I wanna find my own path."

"Yeah, no...you're not doing that. You're gonna stay by my side, and you're gonna love it." She says like it's a well known fact. And to her, it is. She's not letting you leave her, and wander off again. Not on her watch.

"What the fuck do you think I am? Your pet?" You scoff.

"You could be. But no, I'm being nice right now." She says with a small smile, still staying completely calm about the subject. "And when I'm done, you will come back to Japan with me. And then we'll live peacefully, and you'll help me forget about how much of a terrible person I am." Mizu shrugs, but you just rolls your eyes.

"As if. I'll tell you everyday that you're a shitty person." You can barely finish the sentence before Mizu gets on top of you with one swift motion, straddling your lap.

"Yeah? You're gonna tell me how much you hate me?" Mizu whispers, her breath hitting your face, but the only thing you can do right now is just stare at her, not even blinking. "What? Cat's got your tongue?" She teases you, running a finger along your lower lip.

You gulp. "What...are you even doing? What we had was just...a one time thing." You say, averting your gaze finally.

"You think that?" Mizu says as she harshly grabs your jaw, forcing you to look at her. "You must be confused then." She says, her voice now lower with more edge. "Because that day, whether you like it or not, you tied yourself down. You became mine. You can try to run though, but I'll find you eventually." She slowly leans down, breathing right against your lips. "Take your little fuckface of a man, Fowler for example. He couldn't hide, so why could you?"

You can't even respond as she firmly kisses you, pushing her tongue down your thoat, one hand gripping your jaw, the other harhsly undoing your clothes.

"F-fuck, Mizu, wait a second-" You try to croak out, but her hands are already all over you, and you love it. It's just...so damn sudden. And it feels different from last time. It's as if this time, her touches have more emotion. More want, more need.

"No. I waited enough." Mizu murmurs into the kiss, her hands kneading your breasts. The last time, you fought for and kinda even won dominance, but now you can't even try and enter the competition for some reason, and to Mizu's liking.

"Ugh...you're an asshole, you know that?" You back arches into her touch as you feel her start pinching your nipples. "I...I'm still mad at you though...for cutting my shoulder. That hurt...like a bitch." You mumble, feeling your whole body heat up under her touch.

Mizu can feel her head reeling. She finally done it. She has you under her fingertips again, and she won't let go ever again. And this time, you look different too. You look more vulnerable, your eyes narrowing and becoming hazy, you cheeks flushing as you lips part. You look vulnerable, and very fucking cute. The fact that she knows what you're capable of, and still managing to have you in this position is...enthralling. She loves it. If she'd feel this everyday, her soul would be at peace.

"Not my fault you only respond to violence." Mizu says, pulling away from your mouth to place her lips in your nipple, which you reward with a small moan, which makes all of Mizu's nerves dart to one place between her legs.

Her tounge swirls around your sensitive little bud, all while her hand sneeks between your thighs, feeling around your underwear, which is now slowly turning wet.

"You want more?" Mizu whispers as she switches to the other nipple. "Tell me you want more...say it. Use your pretty little voice, and ask me nicely."

"Fuck...fuck why are you like this?" You croak out, your thighs closing around her hand, letting out another moan as she starts rubbing you through the thin cloth. "O-Okay, fine fuck, I want more...p-please, just...do more." You say, covering your face with your arm in shame. "Mizu..."

And she fucking snaps. How could she hold back after that? She rips down your last remaining clothing, which happens to be your underwear, and her lips latch around your clit. Oh, it tastes so good. She didn't have the chance to taste it last time, what a shame. But knows she knows how your slick tastes, and it's honestly perfect. She makes sure her tongue hits every spot it can reach atleast once before she plunges her fingers deep inside you.

"Fuck...I missed you fucking much...come on, show me you missed me too. Grind on my lips and fingers." Mizu demands against your clit which you reward in a drawn out moan. You slowly obey, grinding weakly against her. "Take it...take all of me." She pushes knuckle deep. "Your pussy loves me...it fucking wants me. It's...fuck, it's sucking me in." Mizu slurs between slurps, getting lost in the moment and just mindlessly rambling. She loves this. She loves feeling you at two points on herself: her fingertips and her tongue. She wants you to moan louder, to squirm and beg more, to arch your back and grind harder...

"Gonna cum...f-fuck, I can't...slow the fuck down..." You whimper out,hands feeling around on the floor, looking for anything to grab for support, but meeting nothing but Mizu.

"Yeah? Cum then. Do it...doitdoitdoit, I want it, come on..." Mizu doesn't even notice that she begs, but she doesn't even fucking care. As she feels you spill your climax into her mouth, her mind flashes white, eagerly driking everything up. After you come down from your high and lay in the afterglow, Mizu stays in pleace, cleaning your innerthighs while softly humming.

"You did so good...you're so pretty when you cum. I wanna see it again." She murmurs, fingers trailing back to your folds, but you groan and push her away.

"F-Fuck off..." You say weakly, eyes slowly fluttering closed. Mizu smirks and climbs up to cuddle you, her arms thighly around you, and her legs keeping you in a lock.

"I love you." She says casually. "You'll stay with me forever, okay? I'll hunt you down if you don't. You're my sepcial girl...you'll see me succeed."

[gaybananabread]

Heyyyy! How are you doing?

Can I please request a fic with lee! Raine and Ler! Darius from The Owl House? Raine won't stop calling their group the C.A.Ts, mostly to get a rise out of Darius (it's working😂). Fed up after Raine ignores his warnings, Darius pins him down and wrecks the shit out of him. Raine is a nervous bard, so he cannot stand tickle anticipation and Darius knows this. Cut to a few minutes later and Raine is giggling up a storm while Darius is just smiling at him and saying things like, 'I'm not even touching you...'

I am alive, thx for asking! THIS IS SUCH A GOOD PROMPT LIKE- It's cute and fluffy and I love it. I'm gonna be honest, i pumped most of this out after midnight. I hope this doesn't suck. Sorry this took so long, schoolwork started back up and I got swampedddd. Enjoy!

Lee: Raine

Ler: Darius

Summary: Raine is being a little shit and annoying Darius with the group name. He decides to teach the pesky bard a lesson.

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don't like that, scroll away!

"Or, for short, the CATTS!"

Darius despised that name. Not because of the stupidity, and not because of embarrassment. He hated it because Raine loved to annoy him with it. Every chance they got, every set-up for a cat pun, Raine would be there to tease him about it.

Now, Raine wasn't doing it maliciously, of course. They didn't want to actually upset the other coven head. They just saw a way to make the ever-stoic and sassy Darius groan or stifle a laugh. So, like any reasonable person would, they did it as often as possible. Just to see the ghost of a smile or hear the small, choked sound of a chuckle from the man. Some days they just took it a bit too far. Today was one of those days.

-

Running through the halls of the base, Raine searched for Darius. They had the perfect idea for new masks. Luz had shown them some drawings of human-world cats, and they absolutely loved them. True, soft and fluffy isn't exactly a typical rebellion style, but that can change. At the very least, it'll be fun to annoy Darius with.

Finally, they found the abominations head. He was fixing some of the damaged uniforms and clothes for the members. Raine ran up to him, showing him the pad of paper. "Darius! What do you think of these new designs for the CATTS uniforms?"

He didn't respond for a second, waiting to see if that was a joke. When he found out it wasn't, he shook his head, sighing. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Raine, I don't even know where to- are those paw-pad gloves?"

Raine nodded excitedly, pointing to the glove design. "Yeah! I figured, since we're the CATTS, we might as well look the part. You, Eda, Luz and me even get tails." They smirked, turning the page to show him their outfits. They had Darius in a purple-themed calico cat outfit. They even had cat ears in the design. "I think they're purr-fect. What about you?"

That little... they're so dead. Using his magic, he sent an abomination to grab Raine, holding the bard's arms above their head and keeping them in place. He stood from his workbench, slowly making his way over to the restrained Raine.

"Raine Whispers... I belive I've told you about my thoughts on the whole cat thing, correct?" Darius placed his hand on their side, just resting it there. Raine nodded, squirming under his touch. They knew what was coming. "I thought so. And what, exactly, are those thoughts?"

Raine shrugged, a wobbly smile on their face. They knew they were screwed. The bard twisted and tugged at their arms, but the abomination didn't budge. Darius had them right where he wanted them. "Let me remind you: I am NOT AMUSED!"

With a playful growl, Darius dug his fingers into the bard's sides, roughly clawing and poking at the sensitive skin. Raine squealed, squirming and tugging at their goopy restraints. The abomination didn't budge.

"DAHARIHUHUHUS! PLEHEHEASE!" Darius going straight for their sides was not something they were ready for. Raine's laughter was loud and pitchy, their cheeks quickly reddening. It was their worst spot, after all.

"Please? I remember saying that many times when you would make cat puns or annoy me with that cursed team name. And, as I'm sure you remember, you did not stop. It's fitting that I shouldn't either."

Darius was enjoying himself. Sure, it's a bit childish, but it gets the job done. He would never harm his friend, and the tickling gets his message aross just fine. Did he need to be so cruel about it? No, but that's half the fun.

That "fun" is a very different story when you're on the receiving end. Sure, it wasn't awful, but their death spot for too long was getting a bit intense. "COHOHOME OHON! GAHAHA- GOHOHO SOHOMEWHERE EHEHEHELSE!"

His fingers immediately moved up to Raine's neck, fluttering his fingers across the pinkened skin. He didn't wanna push their boundaries. Their loud, shaky laughter turned to squeaky, almost childish giggling. It did nothing to help their blush, the red color quickly spread further down his neck and to his ears.

"Dahahahariuhus! Quihihit it!" They scrunched up their shoulder as best as they could, trying to block Darius's hands. "Maybe someone should've laid off on the feline puns." He was honestly just having fun teasing the bard at this point, though they didn't need to know that.

Raine didn't know if their face could get any more red. Their bouncy, squeaky giggles were music to Darius's ears. Though he couldn't stay there forever. That'd just be unfair, both to him and Raine. He let his hands drift downward, stopping on the bard's ribcage.

Their gigging ramped back up into laughter, though it wasn't half as loud as before. Raine tugged at their arms, but to no avail. Darius's magic held them firmly in place and at his mercy. "You know, you've really brought this upon yourself. I've told you countless times not to bring up the cat thing around me. Yet you still press me, daily, on the matter. It's almost as if you wanted this."

The bard shook their head, hastily denying the comment. They knew he was just teasing, but still. Raine wasn't exactly aiming for this result, but it's not unwelcome in the least. They might've wanted to make Darius chuckle, but they weren't against having a laugh themselves. No reason for Darius to know that, though. "GEHEHET OFF! DAHAHARIUS!"

Darius suddenly got a very fun, very mean idea. Inspired by his friend's words, he pulled his hands away, hovering them over their sides. "Alright then. If you wish, I'll stop touching you." He teasingly wiggled his fingers, just shy of meeting their skin. They giggled and twisted around, eyeing his hands nervously. Oho, that prick-

"Dariuhuhus! Thahat- this ihisn't fair!" The abomination covenhead just huffed, shaking his head. "You need to make up your mind, Raine. 'Touch me, don't touch me.' It's rather confusing." He acted like he was going to go for their sides, faking them out at the last moment. The bard squealed and jolted out of instinct, making the other coven head laugh.

"I'm not even touching you, Raine. If you're that ticklish, I think you should invest in some body armor. I mean, if Belos found out about this, you'd be toast. A few illusionists sending some feathers near your sides and poof: no more revolution." He wiggled his fingers teasingly, drawing a line in the air right above their stomach. It was kinda cute how they giggled and squirmed at the almost-touch.

"Wohohohould you juhust- quihit! This ihis ehehevil!" They hate anticipation. It's just... why? They know he's gonna tickle them again, why drag it out like that? Their giggles bounced around the room as they squirmed like a worm on a hook.

"Why would I ever do that? And what do you mean by quit? Quit stalling and tickle you again, quit teasing you, quit calling you out? There's a lot of possibilities here, Raine. You've got to be specific."

He smirked, just hovering his hands over their sides. His fingers twitched absent-mindedly, sending shivers down the other's spine. Raine knew they weren't getting out of there without getting tickled again. Might as well own it.

"Juhust- shut uhup ahand t-tickle me ahalready!" Darius could've been very mean. He had plenty of things to tease the bard with. Their burning cheeks, stuttering on the t-word, eagerness to get wrecked. But he didn't. He dug his fingers into Raine's sides once again, clawing and scratching and wiggling his fingers on their death spot.

Raine all but shrieked. The anticipation had made everything twice as bad, their laughter loud and boisterous. It's not something you see- or hear -every day. "NAHAHAHA! DAHAHARIUHUHUS! IHIT- GAHAHAHA!"

The man was silent, just smirking as he wrecked the poor bard. Even though they had literally asked for it, Darius would feel guilty if he teased them. At least for the moment. He just tickled them, his fingers scribbling mercilessly against Raine's sides.

Barely two minutes later, Raine was practically done. Their squirming had almost stopped, their laugh taking on a wheezing edge. If not for the abomination, they would have collapsed by now. Seeing the behavior shift, Darius slowly stopped his tickling, rubbing at their sides to try and calm the phantom tickles. "You alright, Raine?"

Said bard all but went limp in the abomination's grip, hanging their head as they got the rest of their giggles out. They were exhausted, the tickling thoroughly tiring them out. Darius chuckled as he wrapped an arm around them. He dismissed the abomination, catching before they could faceplant. They mumbled a "thanks" before going limp in his arms.

Darius led them over to their bunk, laying them down and pulling the thin blanket over them. Raine didn't react much as they melted into the soft mattress. Darius shook his head, unable to wipe the smile off his face as he left them to rest.

Maybe he could make just one of those uniforms... if only to humor them. Yes, that sounds right. Sitting back at his workbench, Darius grabbed some fuzzy fabric, making Raine's CATTS design. The things he does for his friends...

[myheartisonthetrain]

oh my days okay so we had a school trip today to a nearby university, my group consisted of me, 🐸, 🐸's boyfriend, 🦊's boyfriend (friend of frog's bf) and a few others who are less relevant to the story

to make this less confusing i'm gonna call frog's bf 'A' and fox's bf 'S'

starting off strong, me and S both wore red flannel shirts which freaked me out for some reason, i was severely scared of him at first because i know nearly nothing about him except from the fact he probably knows the whole fox story from his perspective and that he used to have a crush on someone in my old english class (Mj's class) but he was actually really nice and gave out sweets to people in our group 😭 he also liked my cat drawings i did for the group's idea pitch and we joked about wood veneers, hats getting taller when you lie and he mentioned 4chan which is like. a massive red flag but also a green one for some reason, like he's actually aware of deeper internet roots (my autism appreciates.) it's nice to know he has nothing against me.

now for the more interesting part

frog is my ex, i honestly can't remember if i put that in pinned but it's important so remember that 🤓 and um currently we're the definition of codependent(?) homoerotic teenage friendship, which i think i've also mentioned before but not gone into too much depth on.

throughout the trip she was really touchy with me and saying we were gay and shit which is normal frog behaviour but it was really a lot today (she literally kissed my hand and we touched each other's thighs ?? because she asked me to ??) and i'm p sure it's all just to make her bf jealous and build tension between them. i don't wanna say it but it hurts my feelings when she does this, for obvious reasons. it's sorta my fault for agreeing but that mindset only leads to bad things so i'm blaming it on her LMAO and i want to distance myself, even if she holds it against me and starts acting up because she is one venomous frog and im literally an unbothered shrimp in the vast ocean citadel

it's like every time i think my feelings are gone for her they try to come back again, because of her, and i don't even like her in that way because she's just so. crying screaming throwing up and when we were together she was way too afraid of hurting me so our relationship was very ...conditioned? and she was faking a lot of it, which is understandable because it's common to do that as you might not know how you feel or want to protect the other's idea of you, but now she's all like this it messes with my head. i don't get how she can be so sensitive and so mildly manipulative at the same time it's like amazing and horrible and theoretically all my sapphic dreams condensed into a human but in the real world it's just so tiring dude . fml. it doesn't help that she always tells me when her boyfriend's pissed her off so it builds that extra layer of connection she can't have with anyone else. i'm just fill-in to her, whatever she can't have with him she can have with me, because i can do it, and i don't know if she realises how damaging this would be in the longrun to like, everyone involved. but she probably does. Mj lowkey shipped us as well ☠️ i wish she was here so i could think about telling her and instead get enthralled by her beauty and forget everything

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Ch. 26: Illusions (Dance)

AO3

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Marinette quickly decides she hates the punishment. The grounding. It sucks not being allowed to go on patrol with her family. Luckily, Adrien came back to Paris the day after she was grounded, so she didn’t have to take any of her family to Paris. Which she was thankful for, because as much as she loved them, she also doubted they’d be able to control their emotions long enough. 

“Hey kiddo, we’re about to head out to patrol. Do you need anything?” Dick asks, sticking his head into her room. He’d been extremely nice since she got benched, not that he was ever anything but nice. But he’d also been acting like another dad, checking in on her, making dad jokes, the works. It helped since her own dad was currently still mad at her for blocking him from Paris. 

“To patrol with you guys.” She says with a hopeful smile. Dick sighs, shaking his head. 

“You know I can’t do that Mari. B’s the one who has to say you’re allowed back. I’m sorry kid.” Dick says. Marinette frowns. 

“It’s fine. I’ll just stay here and draw or something.” She says, flopping back down on her bed. She can tell Dick hesitates, as if he wants to say something else, but then he’s gone. And she’s alone. Again. 

“Marinette, are you okay?” Tikki asks, flying over and landing next to her head. 

“It’s been four days, Tikki. Four days. How much longer is he gonna have me benched? If the akuma was bad, I would’ve brought in Kagami or Luka.” She rambles, covering her face with her hands. She was restless, which was making her anxious. She wanted to do something. She didn’t want to be stuck at home. And sure, she could train in the gym here, but her mind wouldn’t be in it. She’d be worried about her family the whole time. 

“Well...maybe it’s time for you to be ungrounded.” Tikki says slowly. Marinette pulls her hands from her face and blinks at her friend. 

“Are you...are you ungrounding me?” She asks. Because yes, her dad had grounded her. But Tikki had agreed with the punishment. And while sneaking around the world’s greatest detective would be hard, she was willing to do it. Going against the goddess of creation? Not so much. 

“If you bring Trixx, you’ll be able to be invisible when you’re around your family.” Tikki suggests and Marinette grins. 

“Plagg’s rubbing off on you, isn’t he?” She teases. Tikki huffs. 

“Not at all. I just don’t like seeing you upset, Marinette.” She says and Marinette smiles. 

“Thank you, Tikki.” She says, going over to the Miracle Box and pulling out Trixx’ necklace. She puts it on and grins at the small fox. 

“Hiya Guardian! What’s goin’ on?” Trixx asks with a wide smile. 

“Tikki suggested I bring you on patrol so I can be invisible. Whaddya say Trixx, ready to cause some mischief?” Marinette asks. Trixx smirks. 

“Obviously!” He cheers. Marinette grins. Let the fun begin.

---

Marinette sticks close to her family, using Mirage to make herself invisible. It was weird, following her family and not being able to hear them (she hadn’t wanted to take a comm in case she messed up and talked, she’d be in real trouble then). But it was also funny, watching her dad tense if she got too close. He could definitely tell that something funny was going on, but she was determined to not let him figure her out. The beeping from Trixx’ necklace makes her huff. She’d have to go hide and recharge, but it was fine. Trixx had already told her that he was having fun messing with her family, so she knew he’d be willing to keep going for a little while longer. Dashing behind one of the air conditioning units on the roof, she lets Trixx’ Mirage drop, passing him a handful of berries. 

“Take your time Trixx, they won’t get far.” Marinette reassures him, smiling at him as he grabs the berries from her. She leans up against the unit, taking a minute to just relax. 

“Well, well, well. Looks like the little bug strayed from her birds.” A familiar voice drawls out. Marinette stiffens, not turning. 

“Trixx, go. Find the others.” She commands, ripping the necklace off and passing it to Trixx. He immediately zips away and she whirls around, just in time to jump back and avoid the sword coming at her. 

“You have more than one Miraculous? How interesting. You know, Damian stopped us from talking last time. I’d love to...chat.” Slade says, pulling his sword back. She can’t see his face, but she can hear the smirk in his voice. Marinette grits her teeth, remembering the last time she’d seen the man. The scar she had on her shoulder. 

“I’d rather not. No offense, but you don’t seem like a great conversationalist.” She snarks, her entire body tense as she stays poised to fight. She glances around, trying to find an escape route that would get her as far away from him as possible. And quick.

“You’re not actually thinking of running, are you? You have no backup. I’ve been watching the Bats tonight. No one knows you’re even here.” He says, stepping closer so that he’s almost blocked her in. She feels her breathing quicken as she starts to panic slightly. She’d only escaped last time because of her family. They’d fought him off after he got ahold of her. He’s far stronger than her, she has to stay out of his reach. She takes a deep breath, staring the man down and schooling her features into a neutral mask. She refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her distressed. 

“I never run from a fight.” She lies, throwing her yoyo out to wrap around the handle of the man’s sword, tugging as she throws her weight to his left. The clanking of the sword as it bounces off the roof makes her grin, and she quickly tugs the yoyo, grabbing the sword by its handle and twirling it around slightly, planting her feet in her new position. She’d managed to move so that she was no longer blocked between Slade and the air conditioning unit. 

“Oh sweetheart, you can’t possibly beat me.” He says, shaking his head as he walks towards her, pulling his second sword off his back. 

“Don’t underestimate me.” She snaps, holding up the sword and preparing herself to fight back. He sighs, as if he’s disappointed in her, before lunging forward, bringing his sword up for an attack. She holds up her own sword, blocking his strike. It was much different than the fencing foil she’d used a few times back in Paris, much heavier. She grits her teeth as he pushes down with the sword, obviously trying to overpower her. She holds for another moment before jumping back, jerking her sword away. The sudden change in force makes him stumble forwards and let out a growl. He continues to lunge towards her as she dances back and forth, trying to avoid fighting him too much. He’d definitely overpower her if she let him get too close. 

“I’d rather do this the easy way, darling, but if you’re really going to make me do this the hard way we can.” He threatens, twirling the sword around before charging her again. She let out a gasp, jumping back again, her foot slipping as she was much closer to the edge of the roof than she expected. She falls, managing to grab the roof with her open hand, the sword now dangling at her side. She had two options. She could let go of the sword and use her yoyo to swing away, or she could try and let go of the roof and shoot out her yoyo quick enough to avoid splatting on the ground. She quickly makes her decision, dropping the sword into the dumpster below her and yanking out her yoyo to attempt to swing away. 

“No!” She yells, as Slade grabs her hand from the roof, tugging her towards him before she can swing away. She struggles against him, kicking at him, throwing her elbows around wildly. She had to get out of his hold. 

“Did you really think that would work?” He asks, as he pins her to chest. She continues struggling in his grasp, not willing to give up yet.

“Thought I’d try it.” She huffs. 

“Sure you did sweetheart. Now, I’ll be taking these.” Slade says, reaching for her earrings. He touches them and hisses in pain, Marinette also hissing in shock. They’d heated up when he grabbed them, almost like they were trying to burn him. Unfortunately for Marinette, they were still on her ears. Which meant she also got burned. 

“What the hell was that?” He hisses, whirling her around to face her, continuing to hold her arms down. She continues to struggle while glaring at the man. 

“Apparently the earrings don’t want you either.” She snaps. 

“Guess I’ll just have to take you with me.” He says and her eyes widen in panic. No. Nope. Not a secondary location, she’d watched enough true crime shows and listened to Tim rant about cold cases enough to know what a secondary location meant. It meant death. And she was not about to die again, especially not somewhere she couldn’t use the Cure. A hard blow to the back of her head makes her vision go black as she quickly slips into unconsciousness. 

---

Dick Grayson was not expecting to see a tiny floating fox on patrol. He was definitely not expecting said tiny fox to be carrying a necklace and rambling worriedly.

“Whoa, whoa, calm down buddy. What’s wrong?” Dick asks, smiling at them. They were similar to Plagg, the tiny floating black cat that had hung around the day Marinette was a toddler. 

“It’s the Guardian! She needs help. A man with a mask and swords found her and she doesn’t have any backup.” They ramble, a terrified look on their face. Dick frowns. 

“Who?” He asks, not quite sure why the fox has chosen him. 

“Marinette!” They cry, and Dick freezes. “Tikki told her she could be ungrounded and so we were following you guys, but then she had to stop and the man found her. Please, help her!” 

“Lead the way.” He says, whirling on his heel and following the little creature as it zips through the city. He follows them all the way to a roof, frowning when the fox pauses and looks around, clear panic on their face. 

“They were here. She was here.” They mumble, twisting in circles and looking around. They start zipping forward again, and Dick has to rush to follow. Hopefully they’d spotted Marinette. And whoever the guy was. As he follows the fox, he frowns when he spots a figure carrying something over their shoulder. Something limp- He pushes forward, going faster than the fox as he attempts to catch up. The second the figure lands on a roof, he whips out his escrima sticks, whacking the man across the back of his legs. The man stumbles, spinning around and glaring at Dick. 

“Nightwing, wasn’t expecting to see you.” Slade growls. Dick narrows his eyes. 

“Drop the girl, Slade.” He demands. Slade lets out a humorless laugh. 

“I’ve been trying to get to her for weeks, do you really think I’m going to let go of her that easily?” He asks. 

“I think if you know what’s good for you, you’ll set her down and get the hell out of Gotham.” Dick says. 

“Nightwing, who is it?” Damian’s voice rings through the comm. Dick’s relieved that he was on the duo’s channel rather than the group channel. If he could get Marinette home before B noticed, maybe his baby sister wouldn’t get in more trouble. 

“I don’t think you understand the importance of her earrings.” Slade counters, obviously preparing to fight his way out. 

“I don’t care how important you think they are, Slade. Put her down and get out of the city.” He says, watching the older man’s body language to try and anticipate the attack. He hears Damian curse in his ear, and he resists the urge to reprimand him. 

“How about no.” Slade quips, tossing Marinette to the side of the roof and charging at him in one fluid motion. Dick sees red as he watches Marinette get tossed aside so carelessly, her head bouncing off the roof. He uses one of his escrima sticks to counter the blows from the other man’s sword, using his other to whack the man’s shoulder. The two circle each other, each taking turns to start the attack. Slade may be motivated by his want for the earrings, but Dick was fighting for his sister. Losing wasn’t an option for Dick, not when one of his siblings was in danger. 

“I believe Nightwing told you to leave.” Damian calls, bursting into the fight. Slade turns back towards Marinette, and just as Dick’s about to lunge for him- she disappears. Completely. Gone from sight. He begins to panic slightly. Where did she go? What happened to her? The cry from Slade breaks his concentration from where his sister just disappeared into thin air. He glances back at the man, unsurprised to see Damian’s sword through the older man’s side. As much as he wants to see Slade suffer, he knows Damian would be in trouble later if he actually killed the older man. “Robin.” Dick calls, hoping to ground his little brother before he did something he would regret. Damian scowls, stepping away from Slade. Dick turns his attention to the man, who was now disarmed and bleeding profusely. Not much of a threat. “Get the hell out of this city. Don’t let us see you here again Slade.” He snaps, unsurprised as the man turns and rushes away. The man was a coward. His biggest enemy was a twelve year old boy who had done nothing but be born. Gritting his teeth, Dick takes a deep breath. No need to let his anger get the best of him. He immediately starts to panic when he remembers Marinette disappearing. Just as he’s about to call it in, her limp form shimmers back into view. He rushes over to her, glancing momentarily at the floating fox next to her. 

“I can do mirages. Hopefully I controlled it enough not to make chaos anywhere, but-” They stop, glancing at Marinette. “But I had to do something.”

“Thank you.” Dick says softly, picking up Marinette and holding her close to his chest. 

“Should I alert Father?” Damian asks. Dick turns to look at him, noticing how tense the younger boy looks. He weighs his options. He could take her back to the manor and let her get into even more trouble with Bruce. Or, he could take her to his apartment and try to convince Bruce that she’d been there all night. 

“Let’s not. She’ll just be benched for even longer, and obviously trying to keep her from patrols isn’t going to end well for us.” Dick says, frowning at her limp form. Damian tenses, but nods. “I will continue patrol while you take her to a safe location. I expect an update once she is awake. You should stay with her, Slade has obviously become obsessed with her.” Damian says, and Dick nods.

“Thank you, Robin. I know you don’t like going against him, but…..” Dick trails off, looking at Marinette and how tiny she looked right now. Damian nods. 

“She’s family as well. I did not agree with her punishment, I will not aid in it being lengthened.” He says before swinging away. Dick just smiles softly, shaking his head at his youngest brother. That was probably as close as he’d get to admitting he loved Marinette. But it was clear, in his actions, that he did care about her. Just as he cared about their other brothers, no matter how much he denied it. Sighing, Dick adjusts Marinette in his arms before grappling towards his apartment. This was going to be a long night. 

---

Marinette wakes up and immediately groans at the light in the room. Almost immediately, the light disappears, as if someone flipped a switch. 

“Hey kiddo.” A soft voice says. She sits up and winces, holding a hand against her head. She blinks, her eyes adjusting as she glances around the unfamiliar space. 

“Dick?” She says, confused. Where were they? What happened?

“You’re okay kid, we’re at my apartment. It’s where I live when Kori and Mari are in town. Slade got you, almost got away with you too. But your little fox friend found me and I was able to get there in time. Try and drink a little water, I need to call Damian and let him know you’re awake.” He says and she starts to panic. Did their dad also know? Was she in more trouble? Was- “Marinette, you gotta breathe. Damian and I are the only ones who know you snuck out. Neither of us wanna tell B, cause then you’d just be sneaking on patrol even longer and that’s dangerous. But I’m not gonna lecture you right now. So just take a breath. That’s it kid, you’re okay.” He soothes, breathing with her for several counts. She nods once she’s calmed down, and he grins at her before walking away to make the call. She picks up the water, sipping on it and trying to ignore the pounding in her head. Instead, she glances around the apartment, smiling softly at the pictures. She’d found out about her sister in law and niece not that long ago. They were apparently off planet right now, but she had hope that they would be back before the summer was over so she could meet them. A sudden wave of nausea hits her and she groans, laying back against the couch. She huffs in frustration when she realizes she likely has a concussion.

“When I said you were ungrounded, I didn’t mean for you to fight the man that stabbed you on your first trip to Gotham.” Tikki complains, flying up and staring straight into her eyes. Marinette groans, squeezing her eyes shut and pouting. 

“I didn’t mean to.” She reminds the Kwami, opening an eye to peek at her. 

“Didn’t mean to.” She mumbles before letting out an uncharacteristic huff. “Next time tell one of your brothers, please Marinette. Even if you’re sneaking out. I’m sure they could figure out a way to be in communication with you without letting your dad know. It would make me feel better knowing that you have backup from the start.” Tikki says, her worry clear on her small face. 

“I will, don’t worry Tikki.” Marinette says with a sigh. She could hold her own against a normal criminal, or an akumatized villain. But it wasn’t easy fighting against a man more than twice her size who was obviously highly trained. 

“B thinks you came over here before patrol, so your cover is safe.” Dick says, walking back into the living room. Marinette smiles weakly at him, fully expecting a lecture now that he’s off the phone. Dick sits on the arm of the chair next to the couch, looking at her worriedly. “Think you have a concussion?” He asks. She blinks, but nods slowly. He walks away and comes back a moment later with some painkillers, passing them to her. She takes them, hoping that they’ll start working sooner than later as the dull pounding in her head has escalated since waking up. 

“Are you gonna yell at me?” She asks quietly, not looking at him. 

“No, Marinette, I’m not gonna yell at you.” He says, and she looks at him, frowning. 

“Why? I knew I was benched. And I still went out, and I didn’t tell anyone.” She says, confused as to why he wasn’t yelling. Her dad hadn’t yelled at her after she got stabbed, just flat out refused to let her patrol. But he’d yelled at her after the Watchtower thing. And the stealing the Batmobile thing. And the whole keeping him from getting to Paris thing. And the fighting an akuma alone thing. 

“You know that you messed up, why would I yell at you? You know, and now next time, you’ll do it differently. You’ll be better and learn from this mistake. I’m not gonna yell at you for secretly going on patrol ‘cause I’d be a hypocrite. Was I scared to death when I realized the limp thing on Slade’s shoulder was you? Yes. God, yes, I was terrified. But you’re here and you’re fine. So instead of yelling, you’re gonna stay here tonight and I’m gonna make sure I don’t need to take you to Alfred for the concussion.” Dick says with a small smile. Marinette smiles at her brother, relieved. 

“Are you gonna tell dad?” She asks. Even though he doesn’t know yet, she knows that there’s still a chance of Dick telling him. 

“No, but can you do something for me?” He asks. She nods. “Next time you wanna sneak out without B knowing, could you tell me or Jay? Please? Just so we know to check in on you. We’re not gonna follow you or anything, but it’d be nice to know that one of us needs to check in and make sure you’re okay.” He says. She quirks an eyebrow in surprise. He wasn’t going to follow her?

“Really?” She asks, he nods. 

“I know that sometimes you just need a break. Trust me, I get it. I understand that B can be….overbearing.” Dick says with a sigh. Marinette nods in agreement, sitting back slightly and letting out a yawn. Just as her eyes are about to close, there’s a snap in front of her face. 

“What?” She groans, frowning at her brother. 

“Can’t go to sleep yet kiddo. You clearly have a concussion, so I’m gonna need you to stay awake for a couple hours just to make sure your symptoms stay on the mild side.” He says. She frowns and is about to argue when the front door opens. Dick immediately jumps up and stands in front of her, but relaxes almost as quickly. 

“Daddy!” The little girl, who Marinette realizes must be Mar’i, squeals, flying straight at Dick. Marinette blinks. Her niece could fly. That’s awesome! But would definitely throw a new challenge in when she babysits the girl. 

“Who is this?” The woman, who was taller than Dick and drop dead gorgeous, asks, a small smile on her face. Marinette grins, waving from the couch. 

“Hey, I’m Marinette. Dick’s newest sister.” She says. The woman, Kori, sighs, a smile on her face as she shakes her head. 

“He adopted another?” She asks Dick. He snorts, shaking his head as he holds his daughter close. 

“Nope, she’s his actual daughter. Little D took it surprisingly well.” Dick says. 

“So she’s my aunt?” Mar’i asks, peeking over Dick’s shoulder. 

“Yup! I’m so glad to finally meet you Mar’i.” Marinette says with a small smile, dizziness hitting her again randomly. She shuts her eyes, trying to ground herself. 

“Oh, nope, sorry honey. Aunt Marinette has a bit of a headache right now, you’ll have to be easy with her.” She hears Dick say, probably stopping Mar’i from launching herself at her. 

“Can we play ballerina?” Mar’i asks, and Marinette forces herself to open her eyes and look at the girl. Her heart melts at the little pout on the girl’s face and Marinette already knows that this girl is going to have her wrapped around her finger, just like Manon. 

“Sweetie-” Dick starts, but Marinette cuts him off. 

“Why don’t you show me your ballerina moves tonight, and then tomorrow once I’m feeling better, we can play ballerina together?” She suggests, grinning at the look on her niece’s face. 

“Yes, yes, yes!” She squeals, launching herself from Dick’s arms and flying to a different room. 

“Marinette-” Dick starts with a sigh, an unimpressed look on his face. 

“I’ll help her.” Tikki speaks up, flying to be eye level with Dick. “I can’t heal her completely, but I can heal her partially just as I did when Slade stabbed her. But I do have to warn you, if he tries to hurt my Bug again, I will let him see that there is a fate worse than death.” Marinette blinks in surprise at the complete and total rage radiating from her usual cheery friend. She watches as Dick nods in agreement. 

“Better you than me. Bruce can’t yell at you.” He says in an even tone. Marinette’s jaw drops. That was...surprisingly violent for her usually cheery brother. Before she can question him, Mar’i flies back into the room in a pale pink tutu. 

“Ready to see my dances?” She asks, grinning widely. Marinette nods, settling in to spend some time with her newest family members, plans of a new ballet outfit for Mar’i already dancing through her head.

Next

Tag list:  @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @laurcad123 @waiting247 @jayjayspixiepop @mizzy-pop @jjmjjktth @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @jaybird-and-co @jumpingjoy82 @lady-bee-fechin @corporeal-terrestrial

[harley-style]

DREAM SMP Swap AU

Dream = Wilbur : Dream comes into the server to help these two kids who are trying to stir shit up -- why not, right? He's got a fondness for chaos but also very protective and caring over his friends. VERY FOND OF TUBBO. To the point of.. well, brotherhood. Wilbur = Dream : He had a vision, to create a place where people could emancipate -- he's not above being the bad guy to keep that ideal in place. He's charming and self-confident and isn't afraid to use blackmail or get all up in your business. Has dirt on everyone but Dream. Constantly threatens secrets but subtle, yanno? Again, very charming, very persuasive.

Tubbo = Tommy : Still very sweet, but Big Crime often comes out to play more often than not. Also a huge trouble magnet, tried to start a...Honey smuggling empire? For some fucking reason, despite its innocent sounding plan, is a threat to Wilbur's land but no one has any idea why. Tommy = Tubbo : Tommy has an innate fucking fixation on music discs. He's got Cat and Mellohi personally. He dreams of starting up a music cafe/music area...? He and Dream get along swimmingly, Dream actually gifts Tommy a few music discs too, but also pins Tommy with the name discount Dave Strider.

Fundy = Eret : Was convinced earlier on by Wilbur to continue his 'legacy' and ideals. Fundy further grows into a neutral party, doing things only when it benefits him. Is the traitor from the first war. Eret = Fundy : Gets far too involved with stuff and the only way out is if he wiggles through the restraints on him. Yes that's metaphorical.

JSchlatt = Technoblade : Assists through uses of contracts and business deals. Like, hello, Tubbo's Honey smuggling business? He and Dream make an agreement, he supplies Dream and Tubbo with shit, and Dream does favors for Schlatt. Technoblade = Jschlatt : Anarchy lmfao. Was actually brought on by Wilbur in secret. Acted as a benefactor for Dream before turning around and causing chaos in the land Dream Tubbo and Tommy built. Blood for the blood god, only the strongest gets to the top kind of government. There's always fucking pitfights. Oops.

Philza = Callahan : Largely uninvolved in the events, mostly just there to supervise Wilbur, Tommy and Techno. Duh. Callahan = Philza : Has personal history with Dream, tries to convince him not to do the thing that could hurt everyone else. Minimally succeeds.

Alyssa = Niki : Ready to defend her home and her family. Niki = Alyssa : Neutral, but ready to back Wilbur up if need be.

Sapnap = Bad : Arsonist, goes around and burns shit whenever he wants to. His base is a Nether inspired fortress. Also, he has to deal with a Nether problem in reference to the Red Vine problem from the original SMP. Hotlands? LMFAO Bad = Sapnap : Helps when asked. Started out on Wilbur's side, as a favor, but slowly shifts neutral due to the conflict between factions.

Karl = Skeppy : Gets held hostage? That's what preoccupies Sapnap's time. He suddenly disappeears or gets trapped in a cell. Skeppy = Karl : Runs around doing supply runs. Gets his friends into various stints to try and settle the conflict through friendly rivalry and competition. It doesn't always work.

George = Ranboo : Unlike original Ranboo, George is highly unsympathetic and needs concrete fucking facts before he acts, and that kind of backfires on him in the end. As a favor to Dream (how many favors is Dream involved in honestly) he runs messages back and forth from Tubbo to Tommy. Ranboo = George : Largely uninvolved in the conflict, like Niki, but unlike OG George, is not absent. He's just there to assist. One of the most innocent and purest people on the SMP, knows when to keep his head down. When his house burns down, he doesn't really believe its Tubbo who did it -- he knows the kid has been framed because he'd been WITH him at the time, but Wilbur pressures him to admit it.

Quackity = Punz : Wilbur's loyal paid henchman. Quackity will cause shit for the appropriate price, he's not exceptionally picky. That stunt he did as Mexican Dream was great and everyone in L'Manberg loved it. Punz = Quackity : One of the best fighters under Techno. Has more morals, but keeps them secretly. Very good at hiding his true intentions/feelings.

(sorry about the other characters not being on here, i dont know them enough to make swaps, or dont know who they'd make a good swap with. Swap who you wanna swap though! i'd like to hear your take on this matter! HEADCANONS ACCEPTED TOO AT THIS POINT EVERYTHING HERE IS FROM WHAT I REMEMBER AND MY HEADCANONS)

PLOT

-Wilbur starts the SMP with Niki, slowly invites others like Ranboo, Tommy, and Tubbo.

-Tubbo expresses a desire to Fuck Shit Up and Tommy says they can get Dream, he's an expert at getting away.

-Dream is extremely protective of them both. Tubbo more than Tommy but that's fine because Tommy is largely independent.

-Tubbo gets in the weirdest shit but Tommy can roll with the punches really quickly.

-Wilbur gets tired of their crap and burns down Tubbo's establishment. It's like the Disc Wars except it's the Great Honey War. Bee War? Basically he's tired of Tubbo hogging all the Honey related expenditures.

-Dream gets the idea to make a honey smuggling empire, as a joke, but Tubbo is Big Crime and he's going with it. Tommy just wants chaos, and he was getting bored tbh.

-Eventually the Honey thing turns into Resource management, so Tubbo Dream and Tommy have a hold on all major supplies

-Shit happens and Dream, Tubbo, Tommy, Eret, Sam, Fundy and Alyssa establish an independent nation. Dunno what to call it bc the server is called the L'manberg SMP so....

-The fight for indepencence still happens. Instead of 'Green boy' Wilbur is named 'E-boy'. Dream still says "WE HAVE NO MERCY FOR YOU" when Wil calls for a ceasefire negotiation, but Wilbur does threaten the nation saying  "If there is no white flag by tomorrow, then you can kiss your sorry little arses good bye. That's my final warning."

-Turns out Fundy's been secretly funneling information to Wilbur in exchange for the safety of his friends, and also because Wilbur's his dad....uhm. Also! He and Dream are circling each other and others are like "OH MY GOD YOU GUYS ARE DEAD RINGERS FOR QUEERPLATONIC MATES JUST MARRY ALREADY" bc I like FundyWasTaken but others might not and its okay, we'll label it as platonic, but can be read otherwise depending on your tastes. But for this, it's very close platonic.

-Wilbur goads Tommy into a fight, as brothers do, but Tubbo steps in and Wilbur fucking jumps at the chance.

-This is the start of Dream's descent into madness. No one fucking threatens or pulls one of his friends like that. Denied. It's still subtle though, so he's okay for now.

-Tubbo and Wilbur face off. When Tubbo pulls back bc he genuinely doesn't want to hurt anyone, Wilbur takes the chance and beats him.

-Tubbo, however, makes a deal. Let their nation stand on its own, and he'll give up the Resource Empire he started. Wilbur accepts, with the condition that they unify their alliance with a...marriage? So basically, political marriage between Wilbur's heir, Fundy, and Dream, the leader of the revolution.

-YEAH I WENT THERE THIS IS VALID

-They're strained at first, but Dream and Fundy slowly mend their relationship post-betrayal.

-Fast forward a few months later. The Nation doesn't really have a leader, as per the agreement, but it does have a representative. All decisions are made via majority votes, and that decision is voiced by the rep and sub-rep, Dream and Tubbo respectively. Tommy's just there to have a good time and causes chaos as per usual.

-Enter Technoblade. He's been called in by Wilbur to...ah. Dismantle a little...nation. Sounds right up his alley. But he asks Wilbur to wait and see what happens.

-Tommy and Dream get the idea to hold a tournament to celebrate their independence, an all out brawl for everyone to kick back and relieve stress. There. That's where Techno comes in.

-He gets Punz to join him after like, being paid (ofc) and they fucking dominate the tournament. Dream's about to congratulate them but Techno turns the fuck around and declares his right to rule the nation. If anyone wants to fight him for the title, they're welcome to try.

-Dream loses another life to Techno trying and failing to fight it. He and a few others lost their first life sometime elsewhere? I guess? Probably by being blown up by Wilbur, idk.

-Tubbo and Dream are chased out by people who reluctantly follow Techno's orders, and Tommy, torn between his friends and his brothers, stays behind. Oh jeezus.

-Since Techno is a fighting GOD, no one's able to usurp him to make things turn back to normal. But Dream is smart, and knows Wilbur's 100% behind this. Fundy kind of knew but didn't do shit about it, which is why Dream rejects Fundy's offer of sanctuary. He can't be sure his husband will stay on his side, after all. It's nothing personal.

-Dream and Tubbo hide away somewhere, probably not a ravine but?? A mountain or something? They manage to get Sam away enough to ask him to build a super cool Redstone contraption thing that opens for them. ooooo.

-I'm not good at names but for the sake of jokes I'm gonna call their land the 'Bee's Knees' bc at some point Tubbo finds a fuckton of Hives hanging from Trees. Bee Mountain if Dream's feeling especially salty.

-SPEAKING OF DREAM. his insanity is on course now, it's slowly eating away at him and in fear of hurting Tubbo he's slowly distancing himself away. Tubbo's like what's wrong but Dream can't answer -- he doesn't know what's wrong with himself either.

-Tubbo and Dream need to go back and confront Techno, but they can't wait for long else Techno's going to obliterate everyone and their extra lives. They call Schlatt in.

-Schlatt's a pure business man and draws up a contract. He'll aid them in terms of supplies, but most of the revolution is on them. They agree.

-Tommy is actually really fucking good at lying and skirting around what he reveals to Dream and tubbo as a spy that Techno would have believed him if he didnt' know his brother. and Wilbur's warnings, of course. That results in Techno just being fucking done with Tommy's bullshit and plans his execution in another tournament? I guess?

-It doesn't go like the festival. First of all, Schlatt can't fight for shit, so why would Techno call him up the stage? No, Schlatt fights dirty. techno doesn't set much rules so theres no rule against poisoning Tommy quick and easy before the fight. Tommy loses another life and is on his last. Tubbo is spitting mad, but Schlatt points out that nothing in the contract covered this, so he's free to do as necessary. Tubbo is stopped by Dream who, at this point, is just overtaken by the need to one-up Techno.

-Also, Wilbur's been slowly persuading Dream to just. Let go. Let the monster inside of him free, he 'deserves it'. By the end of it all, Dream does. He snaps and lets loose the monster crying for blood inside him.

-Callahan is left to convince his old friend not to do it. In a moment of clarity, Dream stares on in horror of what he'd done. In his rage he managed to deplete ALL of Techno's lives (not really but shhhh), cause massive bloodshed, and terrified everyone in the process. He asks Callahan to kill him. Callahan does.

-Yes we'll get to Ghost Dream eventually.

-Anyway, Schlatt still does the Wither plan, because, uh, Drunken Rage. He was so stressed out from the ensuing conflict that he's like "LETS JUST FINISH THE REST OF YOU. THERE WILL BE NO CONFLICT IF YOU ARENT THERE TO FIGHT."

-and then he uses the line from the Lego movie on Tubbo like "Oh, Tubbster. It's nothing personal. It's just Business(tm)".

-Schlatt still dies of stroke. He does come back as a ghost though, that's one main difference.

-After everything's said and done, and the dust has settled, everyone decides to disband the nation, and just live their lives. like, they're done, wilbur, they get your point, jfc, let them rest.

-but uhhhh someone frames tubbo for setting fire to ranboo's (the server sweetheart) house. wilbur immediately decides to exile tubbo in 'anger'. acutally, he wants tommy and tubbo separated.

-tommy's not standing for it though, he fucking fights his way until wilbur threatens him and tubbo's like YES FINE OKAY I'LL AGREE TO BEING EXILED STOP THREATENING YOUR BROTHER

-tubbo's exile arc is not as sad as tommy's, but rather very tense because wilbur keeps riling tubbo up and taunting him. he still keeps contact with tommy though because they arent going to be separated just like that. no way. tubbo just gets a little more mad and gets short tempered like a lot.

-ranboo's not even that mad about it, he knows tubbo would never burn his house, there was a conspiracy on board and even if there wasn't he's like "arent yall overreacting its just a house, didnt you all do this like before the first war even began, what even (also, ranboo was WITH tubbo at the time of his house allegedly being set on fire. Not that he'll admit to it, because he and tubbo made that agreement long before)

-eventually he finds out that wilbur just wanted to pin the blame on tubbo to make him leave, and ranboo's like "IM DONE WITH YOUR CRAP WILLBUR STOP HURTING THE PEOPLE I CARE ABOUT" and leaves

-with the nation gone, people started to solidify their groups. sapnap and karl deal with their own thing, quackity still runs errands for wilbur, george is the main person ferrying messages from tubbo to tommy back and forth, etc.

-there's a funeral for dream, ofc, fundy arranged it. all of dream's shit was hidden because fundy doesnt want wilbur to get it.

-niki's still there managing her bakeshop but doubles as an informant for wilbur because she's well liked within the server

-ghost dream is present and he's a chaotic troll who mostly hangs around tommy. he's really hyper active and is always on the move, you can never catch him sitting still for like, 5 minutes

THAT"S ALL I HAVE FOR MY SMP SWAP AU PLEASE BE GENTLE I DONT HAVE TIME TO GET ALL THE FACTS STRAIGHT FROM THE OG SMP qwq

[ttttaehyungie]

masked | myg x reader

masked | min yoongi x reader oneshot

☘  pairing | min yoongi x vigilante superhero!reader ☘  genre | college au, superhero au, humor, romance ☘  rating | NC-17 ☘  word count | 5.2k ☘  warnings | swear words, major violence/fight scenes, some childhood trauma, sexual humor (it’s like,,, one word but i’ll just tag it anyway) ☘  summary | Between academics in the day and crime-fighting at night, and your dumb rivalry with that one pain-in-the-ass, fellow vigilante Vulture, you simply don’t have time for dating. But, damn, is it hard when your partner for project work is as cute as he is. ☘  a/n | y’aaallllll this was so enjoyable to write :’) I hope you all have as much fun reading as I did writing this!

Submitted as part of BWC’s 1st Anniversary Contest.

A fist flies towards your face. You dodge leftwards. You grab the hooligan’s arm where it lingers in the air from the failed punch. Twist. He yelps. But you show no mercy. You hold tight to his arm and spin sharply on your feet. Using the momentum from your movement, you throw him over your shoulder. Thud.

He’s dazed. You seize the chance to kick him over onto his front. Locking his arms behind him, you pin him down with a knee as you fumble around in your backpack for the ropes to bind him.

A giddy excitement bubbles up, effervescent in your chest. Finally! After weeks of failed attempts, you’re so close to a solid capture. It’s just a pickpocket; small fry, really. But it’s a capture nonetheless.

Just as long as- you peek upwards to check- ok. It seems you’re in the clear. Vulture isn’t here. Wait-

Something rustles to your right. You jump in shock.

The thug takes advantage of the shift in your weight. He wrestles his arms free and pushes himself up, and you go tumbling off him. Before you can recover, he’s already sprinting off into the distance. No! He’s getting away!

In panicked desperation, you raise a hand and shoot out a force field. Dumb move. It only boosts him forward, aiding his escape. Ugh. Your victory slips like sand through your fingers.

Crack. A flash of blue pops into the middle of the street.

You roll your eyes. Part of you is relieved that the thief is not getting away. But for the most part? Unbridled annoyance.

You slump back on the ground to watch Vulture teleport in, capture the thief that you’d spent the last twenty minutes pursuing, and teleport out. All under two minutes.

Just as he’s been doing for the last few weeks. Damn. When will you ever catch a break?

“Rough night?”

Seems like your stifled yawn was not concealed well enough. Feeling slightly self-conscious, you shoot him a sheepish smile.

“Yeah. Busy fighting those assignments, y’know.”

He hums in understanding. “Let’s take a five minute break. I’m getting tired too.”

You nod. Yoongi stretches his arms out above his head and leans to the side to get in a good side stretch. Meanwhile, you avert your eyes. The sliver of skin that peeks out from where his shirt rides up has your cheeks growing warm.

“I’m gonna fill my bottle,” you announce, getting up from your shared table. “Do you want anything?”

“I’m good. Thanks.”

The water fountain is just outside the library, but the short walk from the discussion pod and back is enough for you to shake off the drowsy haze you were in. By the time you return to the tiny room- they really weren’t kidding when they called it a pod- the spring is back in your step.

Yoongi looks up as you step back into the room and flashes you a smile. It’s small, but disarming as hell. Your heartbeat picks up.

“Recharged and ready to fight this project?” he jibes.

Right. The project. The project that you’re paired up for, literally for no other reason than sheer convenience. You just happened to be sitting next to each other when it was announced. But it’s fine. You’re chill, Yoongi’s chill. And that’s why you knew it was ok to just turn to him and ask, “Wanna pair up?”

The project is the only reason the two of you are talking. It’s not that you didn’t have any other opportunity to. Not at all. You’re both in the same course and you live in the same dorm.

And it’s not that you dislike the guy. In fact, far from it. If you’re being totally honest, Yoongi is 100% your type. Chill, and a laidback sense of humor with his light jokes. And not to mention, real easy on the eyes. With his platinum blonde hair- his dark roots just beginning to peek through- and striking eyes, all topped off with that heartstopping smirk of his, there is only one conclusion to be drawn. Yoongi is objectively attractive.

You’ve acknowledged this the moment you set your eyes on him at your dorm orientation tour. His blonde hair was freshly bleached at that point and pulled back in a snapback, showing off the bold, black brows that complemented his sharp, feline eyes.

It was uncontrollable. He’s just the kind of attractive that exerts a magnetic pull on your gaze, drawing you in relentlessly no matter how many times you avert your eyes.

And the kind of attractive that makes you lose track of what’s happening. You realized belatedly that you’d zoned out from the tour.

“-survival tips. Make sure you collect your laundry from the dryer promptly. One, because people who hog the machines are inconsiderate assholes. Two, because the dorm cat has a habit of stealing socks and underwear. So unless you like the idea of your unmentionables as surprise gifts for your neighbors- in which case, you’re a psychopath-, please just collect your laundry on time.”

A quick glance at the group around you confirmed that you’re not the only one bewildered by Jin’s words.

“Oh!” Jin’s voice cut through the buzz of confusion. “Just one last thing. There’s a strict no dating rule between the RA and students. I know, I know. It’s hard resisting this gorgeous face. But let’s all give it our best attempt, alright?”

You remember scoffing internally at Jin’s words. There’s just one simple rule you have for yourself in college. No dating.

Between your studies in the day and crime-fighting at night, you simply don’t have the time for it.

And it’s this same rule you have to remind yourself of as you tear your eyes away from the sight of Yoongi casually running his hand through his hair as he contemplates the project.

Just one last loop and- fuck. Did the loser call for backup? You drop the ropes to throw up a force field. The aluminum bat gets flung off into the distance, careening off your invisible force field. Thank god you heard the heavy footsteps approaching. You’ve been on the receiving end of baseball bat attacks, and let’s just say you’ve come to empathize greatly with baseballs after that experience.

You swivel to face him. Block his hook. Uppercut. The thug staggers backwards, clutching his jaw.

There’s movement in your periphery. The first guy has disentangled himself from the ropes. You spot him just as he breaks into a run. Shit. He’s escaping.

A kick lands itself in your side, sending you to the ground. Snap. A cold sense of dread fills the pit of your stomach as the visual of your wrist bent at an awkward angle registers in your mind. The tingling pain blooms as you shake it out.

But you don’t have time to take care of that right now. You’ll have to rely on the adrenaline to keep you going.

You take a second to check if your mask is still in place- alright, you’re good. Turning your attention back to the asshole that attacked you, you fix him with a glare. Before this, it was just a moral obligation to stand against lawlessness. Now, it’s personal.

You recover into a squat. Swipe a kick at his feet. He lands heavily. From his crumpled position on the ground, he makes a grab for you. But you shoot out a force field. The wind’s knocked out of him with the way he’s sandwiched between your blow and the hard asphalt.

Your kick is unnecessarily hard as you roll him onto his front. But an eye for an eye, y’know.

Learning from your earlier mistakes, you tie this one up swiftly.

“Ooh, kinky,” he mutters.

Your sharp retort sits tantalizingly on the tip of your tongue. But it’s too risky to speak. It’s far easier to get recognized by your voice than one would think. You would know. Even after over a decade, the memory of that gravelly voice still haunts you.

“I guess we’re doing this the hard way.” Smash! “I repeat. Where’s the safe?!”

No, you’ll never be able to forget it.

The thug beneath you grunts as you tug the knot extra tight. He deserves it anyway.

Now here’s the only part you hate about successful captures- lugging the offenders to the police station. It’s times like this you really wish you had a different superpower; superstrength, or superspeed, or, dare you say it, teleportation. You’ve considered using your force fields to lob the criminals forward, but all superpowers have their limits. It takes too much out of you to do that and you’ll be too drained to get back to the dorm by the end of it.

And so, with little care for how unglamorous it looks, you drag the thug all the way to the police station two blocks down.

It’s as you’re nearing the station, tasting the sweet relief of your task finally coming to an end, that you hear it- crack. The flash of blue pops up right before the station.

If it weren’t for the flash of blue and prominent crack sound, you wouldn’t have noticed him. Dressed head to toe in black- much like your own get-up-, Vulture manifests out of nowhere, together with a burly, scar-faced man. The other thug from earlier.

This is the closest you’ve been to Vulture. Before this, you’ve only ever seen him in the distance as he pops in to pick up your thugs and pops back out. But now, you’re close enough to pick up on the narrow gold trim that subtly lines his otherwise midnight black mask.

The thug in your hands groans at the sight of his accomplice having been caught. Vulture’s head whips towards you, finally alerted to your presence. Hurriedly, he drops ol’ scarface at the doorstep of the station and teleports out.

Damn, looks like you’ll be playing ding dong ditch by yourself again tonight.

Depositing the thug next to his accomplice, you thump on the door of the station twice and sprint back into the cover of the night.

The pain is truly setting in now. The adrenaline from earlier is all gone and there’s nothing sedating the pain. As if indignant from being ignored, the gnawing pain in your wrist comes biting back now with a vengeance.

But you’re already on campus grounds, so it’s just one more dash across the green, skirt stealthily around the building, up the tree to your second-storey dorm room, and you’ll be home free.

Your wrist throbs. At this point, you crave nothing more than to be showered and tucked into your bed in your jammies. Exhaustion from the entire ordeal laces your bones as you sneak your way back to the dorm.

Ok, it’s just round the corner now and- your heart leaps in your chest when you spot the shadow. Shit. In your impatience you’ve become complacent. You spin to identify the source and oh, thank god. It’s just the dorm cat skulking around in the quiet of the night.

Climbing the tree into your room has never been the easiest thing, but it’s made ten times harder with your wrist out of commission. But somehow, you manage it.

After a quick shower, you head to the shared kitchen to grab some ice for your wrist. You opt to leave the kitchen lights off, the shroud of darkness like a comforting blanket.

“Fancy seeing you awake.”

You jolt. Oh. Yoongi. You weren’t really banking on anyone else being awake.

“I could say the same to you,” you say, hand over your heart. “What are you doing up? It’s three am.”

He raises his water jug in reply. “What about you?”

“Lost track of time doing assignments,” you make up on the fly. “And then I tripped over my books in my sleepy state and busted my wrist.”

“Oh damn,” he says, hoisting himself off where he was leaning against the counter. “Can I take a look?”

His fingers are gentle as they turn your wrist to examine the damage. You try not to stare at how long and pretty they are. How is this even fair? How is it that even his fingers are attractive?

“It’s pretty swollen.” His voice is barely above a whisper. “Let me get you an ice pack.”

You don’t trust your voice, so you just nod, and move to sit.

He digs out someone’s bag of frozen peas and places it gently over your wrist where it lays on the table. The next fifteen minutes is spent in quiet conversation. Despite his quiet exterior, you discover that Yoongi is surprisingly easy to talk to. Of course, you’ve talked to him during your project meetings. But the content of your conversations then are largely restricted to the task at hand.

But here, in the midnight darkness, you find that the hushed words and laughter flow with such easy chemistry, and you desperately try not to fall any harder for him.

You take the peas- half-melted and dripping now- and dump it on the table. Wiping your wrist off on your shirt, you retrieve your bandage from your pocket and attempt to tie it yourself as Yoongi watches.

“Need help?” he offers.

“M’fine,” you reply distractedly.

“Really?”

Your family’s always lamented your obstinate nature, and you guess it’s not baseless.

Yoongi’s hand grasps yours. “Let me.”

Before your hand starts shaking from the nervous energy that’s growing in you, you let go of the bandage resignedly.

His expression is plain as he binds your wrist, as if this is a daily occurrence for him. Maybe it is. His movements look practiced, and the bandage is just tight enough that it restricts movement without cutting off blood circulation.

“You’re good at this,” you say. “Is there some secret side to you that you’re not revealing?”

He laughs a little. “I used to play basketball, and injuries were really common.”

You watch in fascination at the expert movements of his hands. Tucking the end of the bandage in, he pats your newly bandaged wrist lightly.

“All done.”

“Thanks, Yoongi.”

“Take care of yourself. I still need you alive for our project.”

Accompanying the usual morning bleariness that plagues you whenever you have just woken up, this morning it’s coupled with a dull ache in your wrist. Right. Your sprained wrist.

Shifting carefully to avoid placing any weight on your injured arm, you sit up to inspect the dressing. It’s a little mussed up, but its structural integrity is largely intact. Good, you won’t have to redo the bandaging then.

Or worse still, ask Yoongi to patch you up again.

Memories of the dimly lit kitchen come back to you, the faint glow of the corridor lights falling on the contours of his face, the high planes illuminated in an orange luminescence.

In the low light, the way his hands moved as they wrapped your wrist up wasn’t any less elegant and entrancing. The pressure that it exerted on your tender flesh was gentle, taking care not to aggravate the swollen injury.

Fuck. As if you weren’t already having a hard time holding off your feelings for him. Feelings had been bubbling up in you ever since orientation and they grew ever more persistent with each project meeting.

Why did he have to be attractive and nice? It would have been much simpler if he were just an asshole. But no, his personality just had to be as attractive as his appearance, didn’t it?

You stretch to work out the residual sleepiness, but your right rib aches in protest. Lifting your shirt and inspecting it in the mirror, a purplish bruise greets you. That sidekick really did a number on you.

Mornings like this really make you think twice about your decision to walk down the vigilante path. Mornings when the twinging pain of injuries sustained and the fatigue from having spent half the night patrolling the streets is just a little too much to bear. Mornings like this really have you wondering if you should just give it up for a normal college student’s life.

It’s truly tempting. The prospect of getting more than three hours of sleep per night is so delicious. Cuts and bruises would be a rarity. And the fluttery feeling of having a crush on a cute guy wouldn’t have to be marked as a distraction and suppressed into oblivion anymore. You want it. So much. Mornings like this, you really want to call it quits.

But your memory prevents you from doing so.

The way your mum’s hand trembled around yours as she urgently pulled you to the backroom is seared into your mind forever. Even now, your hand quivers.

Her eyes are wide with fear as she whispers, “Stay quiet.”

“The supers will be here soon, right, mum?” you ask.

“That’s right, ____.” She tucks your hair behind your ear with a shaky hand. “We just have to wait for the supers to get here.”

With that, she closes the door and the darkness envelops you. The padlock clicks just outside the door.

“Where’s the safe?” A gruff voice asks. Shivers trail down your spine.

“The cops are on their way,” you can hear your dad respond. Pride fills you at his bravery. “Look, you don’t have to do this. You can walk away right now and-”

“I guess we’re doing this the hard way.” Smash! “I repeat. Where’s the safe?!”

You can hear your mum’s pleas between hiccuped sobs.

“Well if you’re not going to tell me,” the voice continues, “I’ll just have to use brute force.”

More destruction ensues. You wince with every crash, keeping a lid on the whimpers that threaten to escape you. Where are the cops?! Where are the supers?!

“A locked door. Is that an indication of something?” The voice is close now; only the door stands between you.

Bam! The door before you rattles violently. You, too, shake in fear.

“I’ll tell you where it is!” Your dad panickedly relents. “The safe. I’ll tell you where the safe is.”

“Glad you changed your mind, old man.” The footsteps retreat.

And as you emerged from the room later that night, your nine-year-old eyes taking in the wreckage and the distinct absence of help from the police or from the supers that supposedly kept your city safe, your dreams shattered just like the glass shards that laid scattered across your parents’ store.

Ever since you discovered your powers at age five, it became your ambition to become a super. With a flashy power like yours, the chances of it happening were reasonably high.

But all that changed when your parents’ store was mugged. The supers you so admired were nowhere to be found. They were simply too busy fighting other bigger fish out there. And the police? It was a known fact that they’d gotten complacent ever since the advent of the supers.

And that left smaller stores- stores like your family’s- unprotected and susceptible to attacks by ruffian gangs that reigned in the streets. No one cares for petty crime. Not when there are bigger battles to fight out there. It was a flaw in the system.

A flaw that you aim to address through your vigilantism. What use were your flashy powers and lofty ambitions when you just remained frozen in inaction when the time calls for it? The gnawing guilt morphed into a thirst for redemption. You would become the defender of the streets.

So as lonely and draining as it is to live this life of masked identities, you can’t possibly give it up. Your conscience won’t let you.

Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to come out to the streets just days after sustaining your injury. But after icing and resting it for a day, you swear your wrist is feeling much better. Plus, you skipped your usual nightly patrols last night, but the guilt and worry had left you restlessly tossing and turning in bed. So here you are, mask on and back out on the streets.

The thug takes a swing at you. Normally you would have countered it with a block to follow quickly with a punch of your own. But with your wrist out of commission, you choose to duck down. Even your force fields would cause your wrists to absorb some impact, so the moves at your disposal are severely limited today.

You land a roundhouse kick to his side. He sputters. But he responds swiftly with a counterattack.

You’ve tried to attack mainly from your legs. Even so, your wrist feels the effects of the fight. Wrapped in its bandage, albeit sloppier than Yoongi’s expert dressing the other night but still secure enough, your sprained wrist throbs dully from the exertion.

In an attempt to soothe the ache, you roll it out- ah, the pain flares up your arm. You take deep breaths to work through the pain. You have to keep moving.

But it seems the thug has noticed your weakness. He moves quickly. Grabs your wrist and twists.

“AHHH!” The shrill scream of agony that escapes you is reflexive.

Somewhere in the midst of the white hot pain, you manage to scrape together enough sense of mind to shoot out a force field. It’s weak, and it adds yet another layer to your pain, but it’ll suffice. The thug stumbles back off-kilter.

You cradle your aggravated injury to your chest and blink back the tears. This was a bad idea. Maybe you should just give it up for tonight. It won’t be the first time a thug has gotten away, after all.

But it seems that he hasn’t had enough. He storms towards you, his face curled into a sneer.

You clench your fists. It protests in pain, but you ignore it and lower yourself into a fighting stance. You’re not sure what you can do now with the state that you’re in, but you have no choice.

Just as he picks up into a run, he’s yanked back. The immensity of the relief that washes through you as you hear that crack is so overwhelming, your legs go slightly jelly.

Vulture materializes, in his usual all-black attire, from beanie to combat boots. The gold trim of his mask glints ominously under the moonlight.

The thug takes a knee to the stomach. Vulture’s movements are so quick and sharp, the thug retches slightly. A right hook follows, without missing a beat. The thug veers to his right from its impact. But Vulture doesn’t give him an inch. He throws a left uppercut. A solid kick to the chest seamlessly completes the combo. The thug collapses in a heap on the ground.

Vulture moves like a predator on the hunt. The pace at which he stalks forward is completely unhurried. The lowlife attempts to crawl away, but he’s jerked back by the collar.

Still clutching your wrist, you watch dumbly as Vulture teleports away with the thug before you can get a word of gratitude in.

When you finally rouse from slumber the next morning, it’s from being jolted awake by the unmuffled blare of a car horn. The soundproofing in your room is shitty, but not normally this shitty. Turning to the window through which you slipped into your room last night, you realize it’s open. You were probably too tired to remember to shut it last night.

You pad over to the window, meaning to close it, when you step on something cool and smooth, but very unfamiliar. You retract your foot and look down.

Icy fear grips you. The sensation of it under your foot may have been unfamiliar, but the sight of it is definitely not. Laying on your floor is a black mask lined with gold trim.

What does this mean? Is it supposed to be a sign? Is it some sick joke? Has Vulture figured out who you are? What does he want from you?

Picking it up in your hands and skimming your thumb over the textured leather, you recall the way Vulture defended you last night. Sure, you get frustrated when he swipes your captures. But you can’t deny that, ultimately, you’re on the same side.

But having operated wordlessly all this while, and only coming in for the kill, Vulture remains an enigma. You can’t be sure of his real agenda when you’ve never fought side by side with him, let alone exchanged a word. But you can’t blame him either. You haven’t been one to break the silence either.

Perhaps you will have to now.

As it turns out, you don’t get the chance to. Break the silence, that is. For the third night in a row now, Vulture is a no show.

And for the third night in a row, the criminal gets away.

You’re tempted to blame it on your sprained wrist. But you can’t help but recall all the times thugs have slipped out of your grasp, only to be picked off by Vulture. Honestly, these last three days have you reluctantly acknowledging that your job is much harder without your silent partner.

You strain your ears in anticipation of a crack sound. But for the third night in a row, you’re left disappointed.

What’s up with all these no-shows lately?

You groan as the call gets diverted to voicemail yet again. It’s the seventh call you’ve dialled to Yoongi. Checking the time, it’s now half an hour past your agreed upon meeting time.

You slam your laptop shut. This is ridiculous. Does he think that his cute face will let him get away with everything? Just because he’s produced nothing but quality work in your pairwork so far doesn’t excuse anything.

Ok. Maybe you’re being a little harsh on him. Maybe.

But can you be blamed for being in such a crappy mood? After the shit show that was the last few nights of crime-fighting, you’re already in a foul mood. And now, hauling your sleep-deprived self out of bed and to the library at eight in the morning on a Saturday morning, only to have your partner pull a no-show? Who wouldn’t be pissed?

You shove your things into your bag and trudge back to the dorm. If you get to his room and he’s still in bed… No one can hold you responsible for what you’ll do next.

But you spot him, squatting by the shrubs that line the dorm, as you’re making your way across the green, and he’s very much awake.

You march up to him, intending to tap him on the shoulder and give him a piece of your mind.

“That damn cat,” you hear him mutter. You pause, curiosity piqued. “THIS is why dogs are man’s best friend, not cats. Holly would NEVER.”

“Looking for something?” you ask. He jumps, and turns around.

“Oh, ____,” he says, standing up from his crouched position. “Yeah, I lost something.”

“Funny, because I was looking for something too for the past-” you check your watch dramatically “- half an hour now.”

He gasps. You can pinpoint the exact moment the realization hits him. “I’m so sorry! It totally slipped my mind.”

You sigh. He’s honestly too cute. As it turns out, the answer is yes. His cute face will indeed let him get away with everything; your anger is completely diffused.

“Let’s just take a break this week,” you say.

“You don’t have to do that on my account. Just give me five minutes to grab my stuff.”

“Nah, we’ve made sufficient progress on this assignment that we’ve earned it. And you look like you’re too troubled by whatever you’ve lost anyway,” you say with a wave of your hand.

You pause, weighing your next words. But damn your soft spot for him. “Hey, do you want an extra pair of eyes to help you look?”

He considers your offer for a second. Then, hesitantly, he says, “Ok. Yeah. That’d be great actually.”

“So what are you looking for?”

He purses his lips. Did the cat really steal his underwear? Whatever he’s lost must be pretty embarrassing if it’s this hard to tell you.

Finally, he sighs and spits it out. “I know it sounds weird but I’m looking for a mask.”

You feel your jaw go slack.

“A mask?” you echo hollowly. “Like a ski mask?”

“No, um.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Y’know what, forget I said anything. I’m sure I’ll find it myself.”

He turns back to inspecting the bush. But now you have to know.

“Is it a black mask? With gold trim?”

Yoongi freezes for a second. It’s all the answer you need.

He laughs, and you can tell it’s forced. “Have you seen it?”

“No way.” It’s a mumble at first, then it all comes tumbling out of your mouth. “No way. No way! YOU’RE Vulture?!”

“Vult- What?!”

“Right. Sorry. That’s just the name I gave you because you keep swiping my thugs. And yes, I’ve seen it. Seen it every night you pop in and steal my captures.”

“Wait,” he says, his eyes growing wide as he comprehends what you’re saying. “YOU’RE that hot vigilante with the cool force fields? The one who can’t keep the thugs restrained for nuts?”

“Is that what you think of me?”

“Hey. You have no grounds to complain. Not when you call me Vulture.”

“I’m so tired,” you manage to whine through a whisper. “We bagged three criminals tonight. Can’t you just teleport us back to the dorm?”

“You know we can’t do that, love,” he whispers, rubbing your back. “My powers aren’t the most stealthy. And c’mon, we’re almost there.”

Behind your own mask, you smile contentedly. The lonely nights of crime-fighting have become not so lonely after all.

As it turns out, your synergy with Yoongi is not limited to academic work. It’s been a month now and your teamwork functions like a well-oiled machine, your force fields weakening the thugs and directing them to where Yoongi waits in the shadows to teleport them off to jail where they belong.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, barely maintaining your hushed tone. The dorm cat slinks round the corner, yanking you out of your thoughts.

“That damn cat,” Yoongi mutters.

You pinch his ear, one of the few exposed parts of his body in this attire. “If not for ‘that damn cat’, we wouldn’t have gotten together. You have much to thank this cat for.”

You can’t see it but you know that he’s rolling his eyes.

“You have no defence because you know I’m right,” you taunt.

“Fine, you are,” he says and begins to lift his mask to lean in for a kiss.

You pull it back down. “Don’t get distracted now. We can cuddle later when we’re back safe, ok?”

He huffs, but there’s a spring in his step that was not there before.

And as the two of you round the corner to clamber back up to the safety of your room, the dorm cat watches with eyes aglow in the moonlight.

Your window clicks shut. It’s safe now. Jin shape-shifts out of his cat form and smirks to himself. He still remembers the mutually stolen side glances from orientation. How could he not ship your two dorky asses?

And all the sneaking around that both of you were doing every night, unaware that you both had a masked companion in each other?

But ah, it seems that you’ve finally got your shit together. All he did was nudge you in the right direction. Looks like it worked. Mission accomplished.

[spicedcinnamoncake]

Pins and Needles  pairing: George Weasley x American !Gryffindor Reader Summary: Who knew that the shy new kid had a way with sewing? To George, that’s pretty cool.  TW: fluffy 💕💕 2.4K Words

   You looked around your dorm and began to unpack. You came in a week after term started and you needed to unpack your things. Luckily, it was Saturday and lessons wouldn’t be a problem. Everyone was buzzing about the weekly trip to Hogsmeade in the halls, and it peeked your interest. Sure you didn’t have anyone to go with, but this could be a good way to make some friends. 

  You had just arrived in England from America, and had just started Hogwarts. Everyone was a stranger here, and you were on the lookout for some new people to hang out with. 

  You pulled a hoodie over your T-shirt and tightened the laces on your boots before locking your dorm and running downstairs into the courtyard where everybody was waiting for the sendoff. You showed McGonagall your signed permission slip and joined the group. 

  The walk was rather pleasant. You took in the scenery, all the trees with red yellow and brown leaves falling in the breeze and the sound of branches rusting against each other filled the air as you and the rest of year 5 of Hogwarts walked to Hogsmeade. 

  Hogsmeade was a cute little town, with shops and cafe’s and cobblestone streets. You walked along the cobble and followed the rest of the kids as you didn’t know the area very well. You saw a majority of people go into a place called Honeydukes. 

  From the moment you stepped inside you could tell why that place was so popular. The shelves were loaded with sweets and tricks, excited people grabbing stuff like crazy. You walked along the shelves, half of the treats you haven’t even heard of. Bertie bots and chocolate frogs and pumpkin pasties... I guess a chocolate frog sounded good. You had a few coins in your pocket, why not? 

  You picked one off the shelf and began to walk as you read the labelling. You were so distracted that you didn’t even realize the person standing in front of you...

  ‘Oof!’ You fell over on your knees, the small candy falling out of your hand. ‘Oh shoot, I am so sorry-’ 

  ‘Nah, It’s alright. Need help?’ 

  You grabbed the strangers hand and hoisted yourself up. You were met with a pair of hazel eyes and flaming red hair. This mystery guy had a spattering of freckles across his cheeks and nose. He gave you a small smile and handed you back your frog. ‘Think you dropped this.’ 

  ‘Oh, thanks.’ You took back the frog and stuffed it into your pocket. ‘Hey, I don’t think I’ve seen you before. I’m George, you?’

  ‘Oh, I’m Y/N, I’m new here.’ 

  George’s eyes widened at your accent. He grinned and fiddled with the end of his sleeve. ‘Would you want to come with me and my brother to the Three Broomsticks? It’s got the most amazing butterbeer in England.’ 

  You smiled at the offer. ‘Sure, why not?’ 

  You payed the five nuts for the frog. (You ended up getting Dumbledore) And followed George to the place he was talking about. He was ever so funny, cracking you up in no time with jokes. He told you all about Hogwarts and how you would love it there. 

  ‘So, which house are you in?’ 

  ‘Oh, I’m in Gryffindor. ‘ 

  George looked at you and beamed. ‘That’s my house as well!’ 

  You two laughed at the coincidence, finally drawing up to the Three broomsticks and going inside. You were met with the strong smell of cinnamon and coffee, and the warm air hit your skin as you went further inside. George led you to a table were a few others were sitting. Another boy who looked identical to George who turned out to be his twin Fred, another boy with red hair who was his brother Ron, a girl named Hermione and a smaller boy named Harry. 

  ‘Guys, this is Y/N, their new here. Their from America, AND their in Gryffindor.’ 

  Everyone said hello, they all seemed so friendly. You sat in between George and Hermione, who asked you tons of questions about America, which you expected might happen at your new school. 

  You all ordered Butterbeer, and Fred and George laughed as you chugged the entire mug after the first sip. George elbowed you and smirked. ‘Told you it’s good.’  You rolled you eyes and giggled. 

  From that day on, the five of you became inseparable. You always hung out, and before you knew it it was already nearing summer break. 

  ‘Ah, summer!’ You sighed as you slumped against a tree in the field you guys were hanging out in, stretching your legs out as you looked up though the green leaves. ‘I’m gonna miss you guys. Welp, at least I’ll see you guys next year.’ 

  Hermione elbowed Ron, who cleared his throat. “speaking of which, Y/N would you liked to come to the burrow this summer? Everyone does, even if it’s only for a week. Mum takes us to Diagon alley before school so we can get our stuff. It’s always fun, you should come.’ 

  You thought about it, and it did sound like fun. “sure, i’ll ask my parents, I’m sure they’d like me out of their hair for a bit.’ 

  George and Fred whooped and you smiled. This should be fun. 

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  You clutched the backpack on your shoulder and gulped. You had been so excited but now you were so nervous. What if they got sick of you? What if you became a burden?’ 

  You took a deep breath and stepped into the fireplace after hugging your parents goodbye. You erupted into green flames and in moment you found yourself in a slightly smaller fireplace. You stepped out and immediately recognized the voices of your friends. ‘Oi Fred! Y/N’s here!’ 

  George called up the stairs to his brother before rushing over to you and wrapping his arms around you. You giggled as he lifted you slightly. ‘Don’t suffocate me Georgie.’ You joked. George put you down and grinned. ‘Missed you.’ 

  You noticed a faint shade of red start to spread across his face. You didn’t get to think much of it though because of all the people that entered the living room moments later. You hugged Fred, Harry, Ron and Hermione before shaking hands with Mr. Weasley and received an even tighter hug from Mrs. Weasley. You met Percy and Ginny, who both seemed really nice. Percy a bit uptight, but you thought nothing of it. 

  ‘You’ll be sharing with Hermione and Ginny, just upstairs dear.’ Mrs. Weasley said, before rushing to the kitchen.     ‘Ok, Thanks Mrs. Weasley!’

  ‘Just call me Molly dear!’ 

  You smiled and turned to George. ‘Your mum’s really nice.’ 

  George grinned. ‘Need help with your bag?’ 

  ‘Nah, I’m good.’ 

  You followed Hermione and Ginny to Ginny’s room. It was small, but cozy. You put your bag down on your place on the floor. 

  ‘Nice room Gin! I really like it.’ 

  ‘Thanks Y/N’ 

  The three of you talked until Molly called you down to dinner. You made it official in your head that Molly Weasley had the absolute best cooking ever. The food practically melted in tour mouth, and you stared in awe as the dishes got cleaned by magic, washing themselves. The burrow is honestly the most magical place you have ever seen aside from Hogwarts. 

  The summer was amazing, You, George, Fred, Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny all going on walks and playing card games and having mini games of quidditch. Soon, it was already time to go to Diagon Alley. 

  ‘Hurry up Y/N, we’re just about leaving!’ Hermione said as you grabbed the big cloth bag out of your backpack. You and her hurried downstairs were everyone else was gathered. One by one, everyone erupted into green flames and arrived into the large are known as diagon alley. Shops lined the streets and there were people and children running everywhere. ‘Now children, we meet here in exactly an hour ok?’ Molly said, and everyone nodded. George grabbed hold of your arm and tugged you with him. ‘Seeing as this is your first time here, i volunteer to be your guide.’ You giggled and went with him. 

  You two walked and chatted, going in and out of stores. George goggled at how cute you looked when your face lit up at the box of kittens in one of the animal shops. You tugged George inside. Owls were on perches, rats in brass cages running on top of landings and down again, and the faint mewing of cats in the distance. 

  ‘Oh George they are so cute, don’t you think so!?” You cooed as you picked up a calico kitten who purred as you stroked it. ‘Your cute.’ George mumbled. ‘You snapped your head around, and he turned a dangerously visible shade of red. You smirked. ‘Your not so bad yourself Weasley.’ 

  You beamed as be blushed harder. You put down the cat and took his hand, leading him out of the store. You two were about to go back to the meeting place when one store caught your eye. ‘George, I need to go in there. I’ll be right out I promise.’ 

  ‘Slow down darling I’ll come with you.’ 

  You entered the store and you gawked in awe at the amount of fabric, thread, and buttons inside. You were practically in heaven. 

  You ran your hand down the different fabrics, checking the prices. ‘I didn’t know you were into sewing.’ George said, examining a cotton sheet. ‘Like sewing? Georgie my dear, sewing is my LIFE’. You tugged at the shirt you were wearing, made out of black cotton. ‘I made this last winter.’ 

  George’s eyes widened. ‘YOU made that? It’s so good!’

  You blushed at his appreciation. You picked a few pieces of fabric and paid, putting them in the bag and you and George exited the shop, meeting with everyone else. ‘Mum! Y/N’s into that sewing thing as well you know?’ 

  ‘Oh that’s interesting! What sort of stuff do you make?’ 

  You looked at your shirt and the bag in your bag. ‘I make most of my own clothes, like this shirt I’m wearing.’ 

  Molly looked amazed and you two gambled off about sewing and knitting and whatnot. George and Fred just laughed, George thought of it as cute though. He already had this itching crush for you from the moment he met you and the fact that you got on so well with his mum just made his heart flutter. 

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  It was the beginning of term, and you were now sharing a room with Hermione. Your desk was littered with scrap pieces of fabric, and scattered needles. Hermione’s was depressingly neat. 

  You were wearing a pin cushion on your arm, trying to fix the hem of your robe because it ripped when somebody knocked on the door. ‘Come in!’   

  George entered the room, his hair messed up. He must’ve just got out of quidditch you assumed. When Hermione saw who was at the door, she shut the book she was reading and stood up from her bed. ‘I’m going to go see what Harry and Ron are doing.’ 

  Once she left, you two were alone. ‘Come in, what’s up?’ You gestured towards the space next to you on your bed. George came over, propping himself up with his arm before pulling his hand away, yelping. ‘What? What’s wrong?”

  Your eyes filled with worry as George examined his hand. He picked up a small pin from the cover and handed it to you. ‘Think this belongs to you.’ 

  ‘Oh dear sorry, I’m working on my robe you see, it ripped and i was fixing it.’ You put the pin back in the pin cushion and took George’s hand into your own, gently massaging the area of impact. 

  George turned a bright shade of pink as your delicate fingers ran over his palm. ‘It’s alright Y/N.’ 

  ‘So, how was quidditch?’ You asked, resuming your work. George cleared his throat, looking shyer then usual. ‘Uh, practice was good. Speaking of which, I, uh, managed to rip my jersey on the goal post. I was wondering if you could fix it for me?’ 

  ‘Uh-huh, sure just hand it to me.’ 

  You were so engrossed in your work you didn’t even realize that George was shirtless in  front of you. You looked up when he handed you his ripped jersey. You examined the area where the rip was. ‘Oh sweetie this can be fixed in two stitches, you-’ 

  Your eyes gawked at him. When did this boy get to be so fine? You felt yourself go red, before you decided to turn it into a joke so he wouldn’t notice you being embarrassed. ‘Did you find a small hole just you could see me? Hmmm?’ You smirked, thinking you could tease him, until he said his reply:

  ‘Yes that’s exactly what I did.’ 

 You paused, needle halfway though the fabric. You looked up at him, he tried to cover himself up with his arms, his face bright red. ‘Well, I enjoy your company.’ 

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Also when did you get to be so dang hot?’ 

  You smirked as you saw him get even redder. ‘T-thanks.’ 

  ‘Your welcome... there you are, all fixed.’ You handed him the jersey, the hole all patched up. George slid it on, you watched the shirt over his abs. ‘Look in the right sleeve.’ 

  George turned his right sleeve inside out, only to see a tiny embroidered heart in light pink stitches. ‘Aw, that’s so cute!’  George gushed. You felt pleased. 

  ‘Well, I better get going.’ George said, standing up. ‘Awe man, leaving me already?’ You pulled a pouty-face, and you saw the nervousness in his eyes. ‘Of course I’ll stay.’

  You two talked for what seemed like hours, that is until the dinner bell rang. You helped George up, but not before he pressed a small kiss to your cheek. He left without a word after that. You stood there speechless, tracing the area where his lips had been seconds before. 

  You turned to your bed and screamed into a pillow. Oh merlin he kissed you! 

  The next day you caught him in the hall. Without saying a word, you managed to drag him into a quiet hallway, were nobody else was wandering. 

  You pressed him to a wall and kissed him. You were craving the taste of his lips for a while, and now you finally got his. George melted into you, he hitched you up by your legs, you wrapped them around his waist and you tangled your hands into his hair. You two had waited long enough for this, and this was complete and utter euphoria. 

  Once he pulled away, he smirked. ‘What is is?’ You asked. 

  ‘Oh, let’s just say that I’ve been on pins and needles waiting for this.’  

[thiswasinevitableid]

winter prompt fill 5, indruck, nsfw?

5: your car slid into a snowbank and i’m the mechanic that comes to tow you

Two hours.

Two fucking hours, that’s how far this guy is from town. But because he’s three hours from the one to the west, it’s Duck’s company that got the call from AAA for a tow. On night three of what's forecasted as a week-long snowstorm.  And because it’s that kind of job, the call came in at 4:45 pm. At least he’ll get overtime for this. 

Being out of Kepler means the radio has real stations, half of them playing blocks of pop hits and the other half blaring Christmas carols. Duck doesn’t mind either, settles on listening to crooning about sleigh bells and winter wonderlands as he tries to keep the truck from sliding into snow piles. 

He’s all prepared to be aggravated at whoever was clueless enough to get themselves stranded and stick him with the four hour round-trip, but the closer he gets to his destination the more he sympathizes. Because this is a rural two-lane highway and not a major through-road, the maintenance is spotty at best. Couple that with the still-falling snow and he’s just glad the guy was in the kind of accident where he could still make a call after it.

The last half-hour he’s down to thirty miles an hour, lets out a groan of relief when the dead  taillights of a car reflect back at him. Once he positions the truck and hops out, he rolls his eyes; the sedan doesn’t have snow tires or chains on, something even a person with a Nevada license plate should have known to carry north.

Duck wonders if being unprepared is a habit when the driver steps out in far too light a coat for the weather, shuddering and stuttering out an “Th-thank g-goodness.”

“Guessin you’re Mr. Wilde?” 

Pale hair falls over red glasses as the man nods. With his hood up, he looks owlish, guarded. He’s all limbs and edges, and Duck can’t help but think of a stray cat that needs a warm bed and some food. 

“Go ahead and get up into the passenger seat. Heat ain’t runnin, but it’s sure as heck warmer than out here. I’ll get her hitched up and we can get going.”

Another nod, the man hunching forward as he scurries into the truck. This is the easy part, getting the damaged car hooked to the truck and freeing it from the snow. The hard part comes when they turn towards town, two hours of darkness and icy roads ahead of them. 

“I’m so sorry you had to come all this way. I, ah, did not intend to crash, nor to do so this far from help.”

“Hey, it’s what we’re here for. Gonna be slow goin on the way back, since it’ll be real fuckin embarassin to call a tow truck for a tow truck.”

A snicker, “I picture them as growing exponentially larger, like nesting dolls. A tow truck towing a tow truck towing a tow truck towing a car would be the size of a semi.”

Duck chuckles, “Yeah, it’d be a sight. And a fuckin nightmare for anyone who got behind it.”

The cab is warming nicely, so his passenger pulls back his hood. In the darkness he can tell the pale hair is metallic silver, and there’s a hell of a bruise blooming on his forehead. Duck’s never seen anyone quite like him, and if their survival didn’t depend on his concentration, he’d spend the next hour studying him.

“Damn, got banged up in the crash huh.”

“Yes.” The man gingerly touches the bruise, sighs, “It’s my own fault for being careless.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, nearly spun out on the way to get you from the damn black ice.”

“I wish I could say that was the sole cause, but I was also asleep.”

Duck bites back the urge to scold him; he wants him to be comfortable around him and besides, even if Duck is having a crappy night, this guy is having an even worse one.

“Wouldn’t be the first person who thought they could make it one more town before stoppin for the night and was wrong.”

“True. It’s just that, ah, I’ve been driving three days straight without sleep.”

“Jesus Christ, you on the lamb or somethin?”

In his periphery, he swears the taller man flinches. 

“No. Just having bad luck with a chaser of poor choices.”

“Gotcha.” Duck drums on the wheel, “so, uh, Mr. Wilde, what do you do when you ain’t stuck in the snow?”

“I draw. And Indrid is fine…” he peers awkwardly at Duck’s name tag, “Duck.”

“It’s a nickname.”

“Ah. Are you a mechanic as well as a driver?”

“Yep. Do it part-time when I’m not workin at the national forest. Friend of mine, Ned, runs the garage attached to the Cryptonomica.”

“I recall seeing that when I drove through. Quite the Jacks of all trades, you two,”

“Most of Kepler’s got more’n one job. It’s the kind of place that’s always losin fundin or people, just barely stayin afloat.”

“One sympathizes. Do you like your jobs?”

“Trained in forestry, so it’s always what I’ve wanted to do. The mechanic stuff,” Duck shrugs, “nice workin with my hands and beein able to help folks out. And I ain’t half bad at it.”

“I certainly appreciate your efforts. I--wait, hold on, I’m sorry but I need to…” he turns up the radio, playing what Duck assumed was Santa Baby from the melody.

“He is saying ‘buddy.’ What in the world? Why would you change it?”

“Can’t have the fella in the red velvet suit thinkin you’re gay.” Duck jokes. 

“Heaven forbid.” Indrid smiles, and Duck likes the expression so much he decides to see if he can get him to do it again.

“You wanna hear a slightly inappropriate joke?”

“Absolutely.”

“How come Santa don’t have any kids?”

“How come?”

“Because he only comes once a year and it’s down a chimney.”

There’s a beat and then Indrid guffaws, covering his face with his hands as his whole body shakes with amusement, “that was horrible, do you have any more?”

Thank god he’s got a wealth of bad jokes tucked in his brain. When he exhausts those he and Indrid trade brainteasers, stopping now and then to talk about their lives. The taller man asks Duck about his jobs, about the woods, and the town, and offers a few anecdotes in exchange. Duck senses they’re about they’re set in a time in his life that’s further away than Indrid would like. 

Indrid also readily shares the snacks from his small backpack. Duck eats what he can while still safely piloting the car. Then nearly takes them across the yellow line when Indrid unwraps a Starburst with his tongue, and prays the man will stay in Kepler long enough for Duck to take him to dinner.

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

Given he was expecting a painfully awkward trip at best, Duck’s friendliness is a welcome surprise. Now that they’ve been stuck in the car together for close to two hours, Indrid is confident saying this is most fun he’s had talking to someone in a long time, even before things went all to hell. 

It helps that Duck is the picture you’d get if you googled “Indrid Cold’s type”; sturdy, handsome in an unassuming way, undoubtedly pleasant to cuddle, with muscles that Indrid is positive could hold him up against a wall for at least a few minutes. In another life, one that’s so far away he fears he imagined it, he’d wait until they were done with the business portion of this evening, then slip Duck a card with his name in silver letters and his hotel room number on the back. The man is so genuine in his kindness too, Indrid feeling safer in the dark with him than he’s felt in years.

Which makes him feel even worse about what he’s going to do.

“Not too far now.” Duck turns the windshield wipers up a notch, “thank fuck for that.”

Indrid curls forward, holding his stomach, “I, ah, I really hate to say this, but I’m afraid my gas station lunch is coming back up.”

“Shit, okay, lemme pull over.” Duck guides the truck onto the side of the road, “do what you gotta do.”

His hands are on his lap, keys still dangling from the ignition. Indrid lunges over, grabbing them and trying to shove Duck into the door in one go. The mechanic is too fast, yanking the keys to his chest.

“What the fuck man!?”

“I’m so sorry about this!”

“Then fuckin stop!” Duck kicks, misses, and Indrid knees him in the stomach as gently as he can.

“I can’t, I need the truck.”

“Are you fuckin car-jackin me right now?”

“It’s not personal.” He gets the keys away, only for the world to flip ninety degrees as Duck tackles him backwards.

“It sure feels like it is!”

Indrid hoped that his survival instincts would kick in hard enough to make up for the exhaustion and that coupled with the element of surprise would bring him success. Instead, his limbs have no power behind them, and all he can do is curse when the driver flips him onto his stomach, trapping his hands behind his back and pinning him with his body weight. 

“Fuck.” It’s a pathetic noise for a pathetic man.

“Explain. Now.” Duck growls.

“I, I, you were right when asked if I was on the lamb.”

“....fuckin what?”

“It was a set up, and I finally, finally got free, and, and I will not go back, I can’t, but if I’m out a car I need a replacement and-”

“And you almost stole a truck that’s got a goddamn tracker in it.”

“Oh.” He presses his face to the seat in shame.

“Somethin tells me you ain’t a seasoned crook.”

“I’m not a criminal at all! I have no idea what I’m doing. I was just going to drive and drive until I hit the coast, I hadn’t even decided what to do after. I, I’m sorry, I waited until we got close to town so you wouldn’t be too far away to walk home safely. I, ah, I wasn’t prepared for having to do this to someone I like.”

Duck shifts above him, mutters, “what the fuck do I do now” to himself, and tightens his hold on Indrid’s wrists. 

Indrid whimpers, realizing with horror that his body responded to the mechanics of the fight but not it’s context.

Duck freezes at the noise, and when Indrid hazards a peek the mechanic is staring down in disbelief. 

“Are you fuckin hard from this?”

There’s no use in lying, he’s faced worse humiliation than this, “Some. Not on purpose. I, ah, I enjoy rough treatment.”

Duck’s face fills with bitter amusement, “And I like givin it. But not to fellas who nearly steal my truck. Fuckin figures the first guy to flirt with me is doin it for some other reason.”

“That’s not true, my plan involved no flirting.” Indrid huffs, “I was flirting because I think you’re handsome.”

More pressure on his back as Duck leans down to whisper in his ear, grinding against his ass, “Yeah? Were you hopin I’d fuck you in here? Or over the hood when we got back?”

“Maybe.” He manages a smirk.

“Hopin I’ll fuck you now?”

Indrid nods, but Duck doesn’t notice. The mechanic sits all the way back, releasing his hands, “too damn bad, because unlike you, I only take things with permission.”

“C-consider it granted.” 

The hand finds his back again, but instead of shoving or grabbing it strokes up and down, “Indrid, I’m serious. I ain’t doin anythin if the only reason you’re offerin is because you think I’ll hurt you if you don’t.”

“I’m not. I want this, Duck, I want to be with you.” He’s going back to jail one way or another after this, unwilling to consider the thought of hurting Duck to get the keys. He’d rather go back with one happy memory and a few minutes of fun freshly stored in his mind. 

There’s silence, Duck’s hand still as he thinks. Then it comes down hard on Indrid’s ass, “Okay sugar, happy to oblige you. Besides, seems to me you owe me an apology for that sorry excuse for a car theft.” 

Indrid moans loudly when Duck hauls onto his elbows and knees, though it’s the pet name that hits deeper than any of the much-welcome pain. The waistband of his dollar store sweatpants hits his thighs, there’s a pop of something plastic, and then a slick finger is teasing between his asscheeks. 

“Vaseline. Great for keepin your skin from cracking in the cold.”

The finger disappears and he whines, pushing his ass back and getting it slapped so hard he yelps. 

“Nice try. But this ain’t for you, it’s for me. Don’t got a condom and only got a tiny bit of this left and it ain’t enough to fuck you full on.”

“It’s alright, I like the pain, you could use spit or-”

“Nope” another slap, “that turns into the bad kinda pain real quick. Now open your fuckin legs.”

Indrid does so, gasps happily when Duck slides his lubed-up cock between his thighs. 

“Close ‘em and keep ‘em closed. Good, ohfuckyeah that’s good.” The thrusts are already fast, Ducks hands holding his hips in place, “fuck, tell you what sugar, you may be a shitty crook but you’re a damn good lay.”

“Yes.” Indrid moans, scrabbling for a hold on the upholstery.

“Shit, you do like it rough. Like it when I talk like that?” One hand comes down, petting Indrid’s head and brushing his hair away from where it’s stuck over his eyes. 

“So much, Duck, please, please, more, I want more AHgod!” Tears slip past his glasses as Duck hits the right side of his ass over and over again. He’s been treated like a criminal mastermind, made miserable because of it, so being nothing more than an eager piece of ass is a welcome change.

“Then I oughta tell you this is what you get for tryin to get one over on me. Think you can throw my ass out in the cold? Gonna turn yours so red you won’t be able to sit for a week.”

He’s so hard it isn’t even funny, and beneath the wonderful cycle of pain-relief-pain-relief his mind chants safesafesafesafe.

“Fuck, Indrid, I’m so fuckin lucky you tried that stunt on me, can’t wait to cum all over that cute little ass, ohyeah, fuck, fuckyeah.” He pulls out, cum spurting onto Indrid’s ass and legs and Indrid hears his own voice saying “thank you” as he does. 

As he’s contemplating what form of begging will earn him an orgasm, he’s flipped onto his back, one calloused hand pressing him down by the shoulder while the other jerks him off. He squeaks and squirms, one palm thwacking into the door as his right leg catches the steering wheel. 

“Sensitive, sugar?”

“Yes.”

“Shoulda thought of that before you bent over for me.”

“TechnicallyAH, you, you’re the one who bent me over.”

Duck jerks him extra hard in reply, grinning. The sight of him is just the right balance of menacing and protective that Indrid only needs two more bucks of his hips before he’s cumming. The mechanic works him through it, squeezing him roughly just to hear him whimper (Indrid’s certain of it).

He sits back and starts putting his clothes in order as Indrid lays there, panting from exertion and the weight of reality on his chest. 

“I don’t suppose you have something I can, ah, wipe off with before you take me to the station?” He asks softly.

“I’m not taking you to the police, Indrid.”

“What? Why?” He bolts up, his mind screaming that he shouldn’t ask too many questions lest it make Duck change his mind. 

“I’m not sure what kinda guy fucks someone and then hands them over to the cops, but I’m damn sure I don’t wanna be one.”

“You’d do that without even knowing the full truth?”

“Wouldn’t mind if you told me.” Duck starts the car, adds “seatbelt” as he pulls back onto the road. 

Indrid gets his pants up and buckles in, huddling in on himself, “As you probably guessed, my name isn’t Wilde. It’s Indrid Cold. Wilde was the man I stole that car from, who also had a very nice AAA plan it seems. I am, or was, an architect. Quite talented, if I do say so myself. And many other people said so, once upon a time. My firm got a contract with a certain large city to design and help build a bridge. I was head of design, and I was certain this would be the project that made my name. It did. Just not how I hoped.”

Duck slows down as they reach the edge of Kepler. 

“Have you ever heard of the Silverlake Bridge?”

“Ain’t that the one that collapsed a few years agooh, oh shit was that your bridge?”

“Yes. Halfway through the project, I became concerned that certain elements of the design would not be as stable as they needed to be and might collapse without warning. The higher ups said it would require a larger budget to do the new, far safer design, but gave me the go ahead to finish my proposal of the securer model. They accepted that design, and I thought that was the end of it. Turns out, they funneled the money needed for the better bridge into their own pockets, both my bosses and the representatives from the city. Unbeknownst to me, they built the weaker bridge. When it collapsed I” he takes a deep breath, the memories surfacing in a tidal wave, “I was shocked, and prepared to accept responsibility, as I could not understand how the design failed. It was only when the investigation revealed how it failed that I understood my warnings had been ignored and I was being set up as a fall guy. Not only for the collapse, but for the missing funds, my bosses swearing up one side and down the other that they’d given the money to me to manage. They’d had this planned for months, and so had built our communication in such a way that I had no proof the money hadn’t come to me. Thus I was blamed, tried, and convicted, and in the minds of many I am responsible for the death of 67 people.”

The engine shuts off and he looks up to see them in an auto garage. Duck is turned to him, face so sad and sympathetic that Indrid could almost believe..

“You think I’m telling the truth.”

“I know you are. Not sure how, but even though I ain’t much of a liar myself, I can usually tell when someone is bullshittin me.”

“I don’t want to go back to prison.” 

“You won’t.”

“Duck I, I can’t ask you to hide me, that could put you in danger of arrest.”

“There’s all of four cops in Kepler, and I’d bet my life no one here could pick you out of a line-up as a ‘disgraced architect Indrid Cold.’ And if we need a cover story, Ned’s got a knack for ‘em.”

“We?”

Duck cups his cheek and Indrid leans into it, “You and me. Indrid, I think fate is a load of bullshit, but I can’t shake the feelin me pickin you up tonight was meant to be. Lemme help you, please.”

Indrid sets his hand on Duck’s own, “Okay. Ah, where do I stay? I have fifty dollars left.”

“Could stay with me if you want. No strings attached.”

“Is that your way of letting me down gently?”

“My way of saying you don’t gotta fuck me to have a place to live. If you wanna fuck me just because, say the word and I’ll rail you into next week.”

“I’d like both those things so very much. Though right now all I want is to sleep.”

Duck leans forward, kissing him so chastely that the following lovebite is all the more thrilling.

“In that case, sugar, let’s get you home.”

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 7: Raining in London

(from the My Girl Trilogy: Stay Mine)

…in which Harry is away, his sister is dealing with something, and a new love sparks.

Warning: SMUT (because why not?)

AU: actor!Harry, older!Harry, younger!Y/N, (4-year age gap).

Wattpad link

A/N: comments are MUCH appreciated. Please give me some reviews folks.

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Harry woke up to the sound of running water and his girlfriend’s singing in the shower. Hearing the song he had sung to her yesterday on the rooftop put a big smile on his face, but his head started pounding as soon as he sat up. That was a reminder for him to never drink like that again. Though he could remember most of the events last night, it had been quite long since he last partied like that. And God, was twenty-five really that old?

Amused by the thought, he ran his palms over his face and got up, dragging his feet to the bathroom. Y/N didn’t hear him come in so she didn’t stop singing while he stripped off his clothes and hung them up. He could see her naked silhouette through the frosted glass shower door, and seeing it first thing in the morning made him incredibly horny. That had answered his previous question. He wasn’t that old.

He pulled the door open and she snapped her head to look over her shoulder, eyes bugging out when she saw his face. “You scared me, dickhead,” she grumbled.

“Sorry, baby,” he laughed, wrapping his arms around her from behind. She moaned with her eyes closed, feeling his hard cock standing at attention between her ass cheeks. “You didn’t fuck me last night,” he fussed, and she shook with laughter.

“You were so fucking drunk.”

“I’m sober now...and so fucking hard,” Harry growled in her ear, grinding his shaft against her soft flesh which made her she gasp loudly. He moved one hand to her breast, squeezing it and pinching her hard nipple, his other hand cupping her chin and turning her face around so he could slide his tongue against hers. Lowering his other hand from her stomach, he squeezed his cock and gave it a few strokes before guiding it inside her dripping pussy.

She was so slick that he could just slip right in, but he knew he was big so he thrust slowly to get her used to the fullness. She tossed her head back on his shoulder, her mouth fell open as she begged him to just fuck her. And who was he to disobey? He wrapped his arm back around her waist and began to fuck her hard and fast, telling her how much he loved her over and over again. It didn’t take too long for her to shout out his name as he shot his cum into her, fucking her through it.

They fucked one more time in the bedroom and decided to take some rest before they went downstairs for breakfast. They lay naked in the tangled sheets, their legs intertwined. He was lying on his back, one arm above his head, the other draped around her back, while she was lying on her side, her head on his arm. During these moments, he loved to pretend that they had all the time in the world to do whatever they wanted, and they chose to spend it on each other alone.

“What’s wrong?” he asked when she propped up on her elbow.

“I almost forgot, Gemma was here last night.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“You two made up, right?”

“I think so." He sat up with her, rubbing his hand up and down her naked back. "I’m gonna have to call her again later just to be sure."

“I agree.” She ran her fingers through his hair, pushing it back to reveal his forehead. “Also, Jeffrey told me to let you know that there's this event in LA for the Oscar nominees, and you have to attend."

“When?”

“In two days.”

“Noooooo!” He pinned her down on the bed. Her cry of surprise turned into laughter as he buried his face between her breasts, lying fully on top of her. “I don’t want to be away from you again!”

“I know, baby, I know." She smiled, patting his hair.

“Come with me.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Please?” He pouted and nudged her cheek with his nose like a cat. “Wanna show you off, baby.”

“You know I don't like those fancy dinner parties.”

“But you’ll have me. We’ll have the best time, I promise. Leo will also be there.”

She let out a faint giggle and cupped his cheeks, turning his face back up. “You could name all of my celeb crushes and the answer is still no. I still have to attend lectures and work on my book.”

“Right, you’re officially a writer now.”

“Not yet, but almost,” she snorted amusedly, pushing him back so she could sit up.

He stayed between her legs, resting his head on her chest while she had her arms around him. With his eyes closed, he mumbled, “I’m gonna miss you like crazy.”

“So am I,” she said, her lips curved. “But hey, I’m only gonna baby you for two more minutes because I have classes to attend and you have a radio interview before lunch.”

He groaned, bringing his hand up to cup one of her breasts. He loved being handsy, and it never bothered her. “I think you’re even better than my assistant, Bambi.”

“That’s because your assistant sucks, no offence.”

“None taken. To be honest, I didn’t really want an assistant but Jeff insisted,” he complained while circling his fingertip around her nipple, smirking when she shuddered.

“Well, if I fail to publish my book, please fire her and hire me.”

“Then I guess I’m stuck with her because you’re gonna become the best writer in the world!”

Before she could come up with a response, he ducked under the covers, holding her legs apart and put his mouth to her clit. She cried out in surprise, yanking his head up by his hair. Seeing his moist lips curved into a cheeky grin, she couldn’t hold back a moan. “I said two minutes.”

“I only need thirty seconds,” he answered before slipping back under the covers. Y/N dropped her head on the pillow and arched her back off the bed as his skilful tongue lapped at her juices, making her toes curl and her jaw tight. Another wave of pleasure soon washed over her as his fingers glided in and out of her sensitive pussy, and she screamed his name, riding out another intense orgasm.

With a smug look on his face, he hovered above her and pressed his lips to her cheek, so she pulled him down and kissed him like she wanted to devour him.

“You’re gonna be late,” he reminded her in an arrogant tone, and she could feel his smirk against her neck. He was hard and poking her thigh again.

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” she mewled with her eyes shut, hastily wrapping her legs around his waist.

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Gemma was agitated; she kept tapping her fingers on the table while her coffee was getting cold. Another employee rushed into the shop and apologised for being late, but it wasn’t the one she’d been waiting for. It seemed like she wasn’t in luck as Emilia didn’t go to work today. She rolled her eyes, resting her chin on her knuckles as she picked up her cup and finally took a sip. At least the drink was good so she wasn’t at all annoyed.

The sound of her ringtone turned the heads of two other customers at the table beside her, so she apologised to them and quickly answered the call.

“Good to know you’re alive,” she joked as soon as Harry said hello.

“I wasn’t that drunk.” He let out a low laugh, his voice was raspy. “I called to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m very okay. Thanks for asking.”

“Come on, Gem.”

Gemma leaned back against the chair, folding one arm on her stomach. “Well, I’m still pretty pissed off. You did a shitty thing, Harry.”

“I know.”

“But I guess I can’t stay angry at my brother forever.”

“Thank you,” he said, relief was etched in his voice. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that. I’m very sorry, Gem.”

“Are you?”

“I am, deeply.”

“All right.” She shrugged, drawing circles around the rim of her cup. “Then you have to do something for me.”

“Anything.”

“I need you to tell Mum about Winton and his daughter.”

“Wait...what?”

“Did I stutter?”

“Gem, I don’t think Mum would--”

“She would be devastated if you let her find out on her own. I was going to tell her myself but you brought this upon us so now it’s your chance to fix it.”

Harry stayed silent for a moment. She assumed that he was taking his time to weigh the pros and cons as he always did when he had to make a tough decision. Eventually, he said, “fine, I’ll tell Mum. I’ll go back home this weekend and tell her in person.”

“Good,” she murmured, a small smile tugged at her lips.

“You know I love you, right?” he said after a moment.

“Of course,” she replied, eyes fixed on the coffee cup. “I love you, too.”

They said goodbye and ended the call. Gemma exhaled sharply, quite happy to get rid of the weight on her mind, but her comfort didn’t last for long as a text popped up on her screen. She zeroed in on it when she saw her boyfriend’s name.

⌲ Asher: Where are you?

Her eyes rolled back as she let out a low groan and picked up the phone again.

⌲ London, she typed, and sent.

He didn’t take too long to respond.

⌲ Asher: Still?

Her eyes stretched wide in disbelief. She chewed on her lip, trying to keep her composure while typing down her reply.

⌲ What does that even mean? I already told u why I had to go back

⌲ Asher: Yeah, your fucked up dad and famous brother, I’m fucking tired of hearing about your family drama

⌲ Asher: My family was kind enough to invite you on this trip and you just fucking left like that

Gemma clenched her teeth, her hand on the table tightened into a fist as she reread his messages over and over again. Eventually, she put her phone on airplane mode, leaving him on read and hoping that she could finish her coffee without being disturbed.

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Two days later, Harry flew to LA and Y/N had her first appointment with her literary agent. She arrived at Laura’s office ten minutes earlier and the assistant told her to wait outside while Laura was on the phone. Although she knew she was Laura Hilfgard’s client and the woman had repeatedly praised her book, sitting in that corridor on her own filled her up with anxiety as if she was about to go in for a job interview. She tapped her foot impatiently, scratching her nails on her leather bag and chewing on her lip. Ten minutes felt like twenty, and as soon as she heard the door unlocked, she stood right up, holding her breath.

“Y/N!” Laura appeared with a smile and nodded her head for Y/N to enter. “Come in, darling. Sorry for keeping you waiting.”

Y/N followed the older woman into her office. It was the most British-looking office she had ever seen, like one of the rooms in Hogwarts, with velvety-brown wallpapers, wooden furniture, and vintage decorations on the window panes. On her desk sat a laptop, a notebook lying open, and a stack of papers sitting under a cat-shaped paperweight. Laura sat down behind her desk and told Y/N to take a seat in the swivel chair.

Laura Hilfgard had the look of a Hollywood actress from the 60s, with a defined face, chestnut-colour short hair, and bold red lips. Though her appearance screamed ‘boss-lady’, there was something childlike in the way that she smiled. For someone who was turning forty-two, she didn’t look a day over thirty. She could be the cool aunt Y/N never had. And she was smart, probably in the top five of the smartest people Y/N had ever met. They started off the meeting with small talks to break the ice before they went on to discuss the manuscript. The conversation flowed so easily, like two friends chatting about a fictional couple that they adored.

Y/N didn’t pay attention to how much time had passed since she arrived, until Laura glanced at the clock and cried out, “oh dear, it’s almost lunch!”

“I’m sorry for taking too much of your time,” Y/N said, but Laura waved her off.

“No, don’t be sorry. It was my pleasure, darling.”

They exchanged a hug before saying goodbye, and Y/N left her office, dizzy with excitement. The girl almost jumped for joy when she headed out of the building, and she decided to walk home despite the darkened cloudy sky.

The air was cool and moist. She breathed in deeply with her open mouth, her hands jammed in the pockets of her coat as she dodged hurrying pedestrians who were in a rush to get home before it rained. Y/N was so confident that she would make it back to her block without getting wet, but it was never a good idea to underestimate Mother Nature. Little droplets alighted on her face as a friendly warning, and then huge bullets of rain began to beat down on her like an ambush from the sky. She managed to find shelter under the roof of a grocer’s, laughing at herself for being so stupid.

The rain poured and poured, a sight she should have gotten used to after all the years living in London but somehow she still got amazed every time she witnessed it. She wasn’t in a hurry anyway so it wasn’t a bad idea to stay and watch the rain instead of wading out in this downpour. Shifting from one foot to the other to find some comfort in her damp shoes, she pulled out her phone, snapped a photo of the opaque scene and sent it to Harry with the message: It’s raining in London.

As she put her phone away, someone tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned around, almost bumping into Blake. The corners of her mouth slid upward as Blake faltered, raising a smile. He had just left the grocer’s, still very clean and dry.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, raising his arm to shield her face from the rain.

“I was walking home when it started pouring,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “I met Laura today. I was going to tell you when I got home.”

He laughed, flashing his teeth. “How did it go?”

“Pretty well. I feel like I can’t thank you enough.”

Blake watched the rain as he wetted his lips and let out a breath. She was wondering what he was thinking about when he turned back to her and said, “you said you’d buy me dinner, right?”

“Right.” She almost forgot. “Are you free tomorrow night?”

“No, but I’m free tonight.”

“But...it’s raining.”

“I live right next to you. We can just order in.”

“Oh.”

“But we’d better hurry back. It looks like it’s going to rain much harder,” said Blake as he opened his black umbrella, giving her a gentle look. “Come on. Let’s go.”

“Hold on.” She put up a finger when her phone buzzed inside her bag. She hastily reached for it and checked Harry’s reply. It was a photo of the sunny cloudless sky attached to the message: Missing you in LA. She giggled out loud and put her phone back into her bag, receiving Blake’s questioning stare.

“Harry,” she told him. He said nothing as she pulled herself close to his side to fit under the umbrella, and together they stepped out in the downpour.

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Gemma sat by the large window of the coffee shop, watching the raindrops dance on the pavement. London streets were less busy on rainy days, not that she complained though. It was hypnotic and rather enjoyable watching it pour, but only when she was dry and warm indoors, otherwise she would hate it so much. A waitress finally brought her the strawberry cake she had ordered ten minutes ago. She wasn’t craving sweet food, but if she was going to be stuck here for a few hours at most, she couldn’t take their table with only a cup of coffee.

As a few more people walked into the shop, a familiar face caught Gemma’s attention. Isaac shook the rain from his umbrella, hung it by the entrance and headed to the counter to order a black coffee to go. It was only when he took his drink and turned around that he spotted her and his face lit up. He crossed the room to her table as she got up and they shared a friendly hug. She didn’t expect to run into him, but it made sense because he was close to Emilia. He's probably here for the same reason, she thought.

“Are you here to see her?” he asked when they pulled apart.

“Yes, but she’s not here today.” Gemma lifted her shoulders, sitting back and nodding at the chair in front of her. “Wanna join me? I’ve been lonely all morning.”

“Sure.” His eyes crinkled as he grabbed a seat. “I saw you at the party the other night but you left before I got a chance to say hello.”

“Yeah well, those parties aren’t really my thing,” she replied. “I was only there for Harry.”

“You must be very proud.”

“I would’ve been prouder if he hadn’t messed up, but he’s the only sibling I’ve got. I can’t be mad at him forever.”

Isaac shifted in his chair, his shoulders tensed as he peered at the cup between his palms. Gemma was quick to notice the subtle change in his expression and let out a snort. “Don’t worry, I’m not mad at you.”

“You’re not?” he asked, lifting his face.

“Well, I was a bit upset when Y/N told me, but I guess you just meant well.”

Isaac didn’t respond right away so she asked him what was wrong, and he said, “I have to tell you something,” a frown marking his lips. She leaned forward, her heart racing.

“I didn’t give Emilia your number,” he finally confessed. “She got it from Harry’s assistant.”

“How the hell does she know his assistant?”

“She met her at a photoshoot.”

“And the assistant just...gave out my number to someone she barely knows?” Gemma scoffed, raising both eyebrows.

“Emilia is very good at convincing people to do things for her.”

“So she’s manipulative?”

Isaac rubbed his forearms, somewhat agreeing but didn’t feel like he should say it out loud. Gemma, however, wasn’t as gracious.

“That girl is hiding something, I knew it!” she hissed, leaning back against the chair. “Do you know why she doesn’t go to work anymore? I’ve come here for three days in a row but I haven’t met her.”

“Did she know you were coming?”

“I doubt that.” Gemma shook her head. “Have you told Harry by the way?”

“No.”

“Good. He’s happy with his Oscar nomination. Let’s keep it that way.” As Gemma tilted her head to rest it upon her hand, she noticed the way his blue eyes bored into her and her heart thumped wildly in her chest.

“You’re the best sister I’ve ever met,” he said before she could ask. So she rolled her eyes, a smile lingering at her lips.

“You have a little brother right? I assume you would do the same if you were me.”

“You’re right, but I still admire you for all that you’ve been through.” He grinned. “I admire you both.”

“Stop, you’re making me blush,” Gemma laughed, and she wasn’t kidding at all. The pink colour of her cheeks was prominent on her pale face which gave Isaac the sign that he should change the subject.

“How’s Anne?” he asked.

“Oh, she’s doing much better. We talked on the phone last night and she was over the moon about Harry’s nomination,” Gemma said and took a sip of coffee, not making eye contact with Isaac anymore. She didn’t want to mention that Harry was going to tell their mum about Winton, but then she began to question if it was the right thing to make him do.

“Good for her,” Isaac interrupted her thought. She kept the coffee spoon in her mouth as he asked, “how’s your boyfriend?”

“Honestly? I don’t know.” She scoffed. “But let’s not talk about him.”

“Okay,” Isaac agreed, no questions asked.

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When Y/N and Blake arrived at their block, the rain was letting up and the traffic was busy again. She saw a familiar car pass by and parked right in front of the building. As Blake closed his umbrella, she rushed forward without telling him why. He was baffled until he saw Niall got out of the Range Rover and caught her with both arms, hugging her tightly despite her wet clothes.

“Y/N! I’ve missed you!”

“I’ve missed you!” She moved back, holding his face. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you of course.” Then he saw Blake, and his smile faded. “Who’s this?”

“Oh, this is Blake. Blake, this is--”

“Niall Horan.” Blake stepped forward and shook his hand. “Big fan. Your music is awesome.”

Niall had no hard time accepting the compliment. He snickered and puffed out his chest, arm around Y/N. “I like this kid already,” he said, smiling at her, and that was when she knew.

“Did Harry tell you to come?” She folded her arms, leering at him.

“Harry said you might be lonely.” He gave a shrug, not even denying it.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and rolled her eyes as she murmured, “I knew it” loud enough for both men to hear.

Blake stayed silent, so Niall had to speak, “well, I’m here now so would you like to invite me in?”

“Sure, let’s go. I live on the fifth floor,” she said to Niall, giving Blake a subtle shrug and leading the way.

Niall was born into wealth so it was very unlikely that he had been in a place like this if not to film a depressing music video. While his eyes darted everywhere in disbelief, Y/N had to hold back her laughter.

“Now I know why Harry wants you to move out of here,” Niall said, breathing hard as they stopped at her door. Y/N didn’t take offence at the remark as she knew how Niall was. Blake, on the other hand, was unable to hide his irritation with a straight face. She just knew him too well. She raised both eyebrows at him when she unlocked the door, and he raised his shoulders to reassure her that he was perfectly fine.

Their secret conversation went right over Niall’s head. He turned to Blake as Y/N pushed the door open. “Are you joining us for dinner, Blake?”

“Us?” Y/N snorted.

“Yes, Y/N. We’ll order in and call H. It’s gonna be fun.”

Y/N didn’t not like the idea, but since she still owed Blake dinner, she had to let him decide if he wanted Niall (and possibly Harry) to eat with them tonight. She looked over at him, and he gave a lopsided grin. “Maybe next time,” he said.

“Guess it’s just you and me, Y/N!” Niall brightened, completely unbothered by how disappointed Blake appeared to be. As soon as he had entered his own flat, Niall asked her, “were you about to have dinner with him?”

She stepped aside for him to come in and closed the door, pointing to the sofa. He sat down before she actually told him to.

“Harry sent you because he doesn’t trust me," she murmured while aggressively kicking off her wet shoes.

“No, no, no!” Niall raised both hands when she shot him a glare. “I only said that to piss off your ex. Harry has no idea I’m here. I promise.”

“Really?”

“I swear on my life.”

“That’s a bit dramatic, Niall.”

“That’s because you don’t believe me.”

Y/N pursed her lips as she held his stare for almost five seconds, knowing he couldn’t keep eye contact with the person he was lying to. Once he had succeeded, she shrugged off her damp coat, hung it up by the door, and joined him on the couch. “So what are you doing here then?”

“Harry told me you’d found an agent so I came to congratulate you.”

“Harry is like an embarrassing mum,” she snorted, resting her head upon her knuckles. “Last night, he called my dad and they talked for hours about how proud they were of me as if I’d won the Oscar for Best Screenplay or something.”

“That’s terrible. They’re terrible people. It sucks to be you!” he grumbled and she smacked his arm, both of them laughing.

Niall ordered pizza while Y/N took a shower, then they sat on the sofa and got updates on Harry via the Instagram stories of the celebrities at the event in LA. Y/N knew her boyfriend was already too drunk to answer his phone, but from what she’d seen, he was having the best time of his life. He was dancing in one of the stories, chugging a beer in another, which made her regret that she had refused to come with him. But then she also wondered, would he still be having fun had she agreed to go with him? She stopped herself right there. She’d had a good day so far, there was no time for unhappy thoughts.

“I guess we can’t call him tonight,” Niall said while scrolling down the photos of the celebrities at the event. “God, Ruby should just fire her stylist. What is she wearing?”

“Ruby Ellis?” Y/N flinched. “Is she also nominated?”

“No, but I heard that she was gonna present an award this year.” Niall chuckled. “What? Are you worried?”

“No. It’s just...weird to think about her now.” She shook her head. “I mean, if I were there, we would probably run into her and it’d be so...awkward.”

She was quick to catch his smirk, so she asked him “what?” in a mirthful manner.

“You two are a couple,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Harry had that same look on his face when he told me about Blake,” Niall said with a beam. “It’s not the ‘I don’t trust him or her with his or her ex’ kind of look, but more like ‘I love him or her too much and it makes me paranoid for the stupidest reasons’. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him and vice versa, so you’re just afraid to lose each other.”

“I guess you’re right.” She tittered, rubbing her forehead.

“Anyway, just to be clear, I came to see you. It had nothing to do with your ex-boyfriend slash neighbour, although the way he looked at you made me feel quite uncomfortable,” Niall said in between laughs.

“Yeah, you weren’t being subtle.” She nodded mirthfully.

He turned and rested his head on his hand. “I really like you, Y/N. I don’t have lots of friends besides Harry and Isaac, close friends I mean. And I really like you.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” she told him and offered her hand. He shook it firmly with a delightful smirk. Both of them broke into laughter again. Funny how she had always believed that the best friendships were the most unexpected.

.

.

.

“...and then guess what? He told me, with a straight face, ‘there’s another bathroom on the other side of the house’,” Gemma exaggerated her version of her brother’s accent and gestures, which sent Isaac into a fit of laughter. He was laughing so hard that he almost fell off the chair, holding his aching sides.

“I’m sorry, Gem,” he said in between gasps for air, finally regaining control of himself. “I didn’t mean to laugh so hard.”

“I don’t mind,” she said delightedly. “It’s flattering, really. Not many people would think I’m funny.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Not at all. In fact, my boyfriend said he would pay me to stop telling jokes.”

The beam on Isaac’s face fell as soon as he heard. “That’s so mean.”

“Yeah…” Her lips formed a straight thin line as she stared blankly at the empty cups between their hands. “But well, I always make fun of Harry’s sense of humour, so I guess that’s karma.”

This time, he didn’t laugh at her attempt to lighten up the mood. He raised a sympathetic smile, looking over at the window to see that the rain was letting up. “Wanna get out of here? I’ll give you a ride back to your hotel.”

“Yes, please, I’ve been sitting here for too long my butt is getting numb,” she said, and they broke into laughter again.

Isaac followed her to the door and opened his umbrella as she threw on her coat. They stepped out into the humid air of September’s ending, taking a deep breath at the same time and exchanging awkward smiles before turning away. It was strange, this feeling inside her chest, but she decided to ignore it and glanced back at him. He patted his pockets to search for his phone and pulled it out, asking her to wait while he replied to a text from his manager.

“Every single time I see you, you’re working,” she said, her lips arched.

“Well, Lee is super pissed at me right now,” he chuckled while typing. “I was supposed to be at this meeting with him but I moved it back a day.”

“Because of me?” Her smile faltered then faded.

He sent the text, put the phone away, and their eyes met again. “Because of me, actually. I was distracted by our conversation and forgot. But it’s also your fault for being so funny.”

She didn’t know what was happening in her mind at that moment. She tiptoed and lifted her chin, pressing her lips to his. He sucked in a breath. He hadn’t expected that, but surely didn’t deny her as he deepened the kiss until she gasped and pushed away. The action stirred him, and he reached for her hand but she stepped back, shaking her head.

“Goodbye,” was all she said before slipping into the crowd of pedestrians. While trying to decide if he should follow, the sound of his name made him jump. He turned around and saw Emilia in her work uniform.

“What are you doing here, Isaac?”

[huntertales]

Part Four: Top Of The Food Chain. (Dog Dean Afternoon S09E05)

Episode Summary: While investigating two bizarre murders, Y/N and the boys realize there is an eyewitness to both gruesome deaths–a German Shepard. Anxious to find out what monsters they are dealing with, the three look up a spell that can help communicate with the dog. When Dean decides to be the one to perform the spell, he quickly realizes it comes with side effects no one saw coming. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader  Word Count: 3,629.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

It’s sort of funny how things seem to work out on their own. Chef Leo presumed you and the other man who discovered you only moments later were the only ones here. It took almost no effort at all to drag you both back into the kitchen. You laid on the floor and your friend tied up somewhere in the corner where Leo could keep an eye on him whenever he decided to come back into consciousness. He decided to dispose of the man later. Right now all he cared about was carving you open like a Thanksgiving turkey.

Years of culinary training and working in the restaurant industry taught Leo how to get creative when it came to cooking unusual animal organs. Most of them weren't half bad if he was being honest with himself. Where the trouble came up was trying to find them. What Leo couldn't get in the local shelter or in the scraps of the taxidermist was bought on another source. The internet was a marvelous place to find even the rarest of animal organs he couldn't locally source. However what Leo was about to do was a step he thought he would never take after discovering what he did. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Human flesh wasn't something a sane individual thought about taking a bite of. The thought of it alone should be revolting. But there was a slight morbid curiosity as to what it really tasted like. He heard a few reports from cannibals over the years of what long pig tasted like to them. Every answer was different. Some thought it was similar to beef, others claimed it was exactly like pork. More suggested it was tough and close to veal. Leo was about to find out for himself when he carved your heart out of your chest. Whatever it was going to be, he could get past the taste if it meant he was able to possess the abilities you were capable of. Healing powers? It could solve his problems and more. He could live on. Maybe he could become immortal.

A shift in the smell caused Leo to momentarily stop sharpening his knife and pause. He sniffed a few times only to grimace at the unpleasant stench. "Why does it smell like dog in here?" He asked himself. Turning around, he found the source in another stranger trying to disrupt his plans and yet another loaded gun pointed in his direction. "That smell's coming from you." 

Dean pulled the trigger without thinking twice about it when he had the man in his range, but not taking into conversation what Chef Leo had taken prior. Cheetahs were the fastest animals in the world. The liver he ate was enough to give him the momentum to lean out of fire and grab a meat cleaver that was near him. All though his aim was off, it was enough of a startling distraction for Leo to get the upper hand when Dean was momentarily caught off guard. The gun Dean was holding only seconds ago was knocked out of his hand as he found himself stumbling to his knees after Leo was able to punch him. The man was moving faster than the hunter was able to keep up with.

Leo grabbed a cord he found lying around and grabbed it. He quickly placed it around Dean's neck and pinned him against the pillar, momentarily cutting off his air supply. “All dogs should be leashed.” He mocked the hunter. 

Dean struggled to overpower Leo when he took the cord off his neck and used it to lie his hands behind his back. The older Winchester was able to see his brother had landed himself in the same predicament. But a sense of panic washed over him when he saw that you were across the kitchen lying on your backside and not moving a single inch. For a moment he thought you might already be dead. He could smell the blood in the air, making him fear the worst. 

“What did you do to them?” Dean questioned the man. “What did you do to my brother?

"Your brother? Huh. There's nothing special about him that I could tell, at least. But your friend? I gotta ask, what were your parents smoking when they had you?" Leo asked the man, cracking a smile when Dean answered with a deathly glare. "They're fine. They're just taking a little cat nap before dinner. I've never had human heart before. Heard it's a bit chewy. Good job I'm not a fussy eater."

Dean found something off about the man when we got close enough to him, a smell lingered off that didn't seem right. While Leo got back up to his feet and to sharpen his knife again, the older WInchester told the man about something he might not have known yet. "You're sick."

Leo chuckled to himself at the observation, “Been told that once or twice.”

"No, no. Not in the head. Well, you are that, too." Dean agreed with that part, considering the steps Leo had done in order to gather his unusual ingredients. "But I mean sick like cancer."

"Well, I guess dogs really can sniff it out." Leo muttered to himself. He set down the knife back to the counter and turned around to face the man once more, knowing it was useless to hide his secret from the one person who could simply smell it on him. "Stage four carcinoma." 

"Huh. So that's what you're doing." Dean said. He watched as Leo walked over to a shelf and began inspecting ingredients that might pair well with a human heart. It didn't stop the hunter from pressuring further into the reason behind why the drastic desire to feast on animal organs for their abilities. "What happened? Draw the short straw, decide to break bad?"

"See, when I was diagnosed, I was way past standard treatment. No one could save me." Leo told the story about his discoveries you stumbled upon earlier tonight and the trick to beating cancer, even for a short time. Dean used the opportunity to try and cut through the wires by rubbing them up and down the corner of the wall as Leo continued to stand with his backside to the man. "But then with the help of a Pawnee shaman and a zoo membership, I found a cure, albeit a temporary one. Cancer always comes back."

"You start experimenting with different organs, huh?" Dean took a wild guess at how all of this played out and ended with him here. "Traded in the single serving for a combo platter."

"Well, what can I say? Combination therapy works." Leo said. "I felt stronger, and the effects lasted longer."

"And if you smoke a few innocent people in the process, well, hell, at least you felt better." Dean pretended to agree with the man about his selfish decisions that cost the lives of two people. 

"Well, I didn't mean to kill anyone—at first. But if people got in my way, they became collateral damage." Leo tried to sound innocent, until his own narcissism crept through into his tone at the power he held over others. He’d been too blinded by his own selfishness to stay alive; he dismissed the consequences that might be inflicted on others to get what he wanted. And in that newley large head of his, all of it was perfectly fine at the end of it all if it meant he got what he wanted. "Guess you eat enough predators, you start to become one. You are what you eat, right?”

Leo chuckled to himself at the corny joke and went back to prepping the ingredients. Dean worked faster to try and cut himself free before something bad happened. He continued talking, trying to distract the man so he could make his escape. "And you really think the power you hold over people's lives can make up for what you lack in your own?"

Dean always had a knack for getting under people's skin by saying things exactly what they didn't want to hear. Leo was a selfish bastard who did anything to keep himself alive. The man dropped the knife he was using to the cutting board and turned around to face the hunter. A sour look crossed the chef's face, the kind Dean was all too familiar with. "So, dog boy, what do I need to eat to take you down, huh?"

Leo headed over to his personal stash of animal organs he kept conveniently in a cooler. He crouched down and began searching for the perfect ingredients to end the man’s life. "You don't want to do this." Dean warned him. 

“Oh, but I do want to do this. See, I’m gonna kill you and your brother, work up a nice appetite, and then I’m gonna eat your friend.” Leo said. He laughed quietly to himself when he saw Dean quickly look over at his brother and to you. “I mean, I don’t know what the hell she is, but with healing powers like that, who cares? He could cure me.” Leo examined a few more containers before finding the one that felt perfect. The label on the clear container read wolf heart. “Dog on sort-of dog.”

Dean worked even faster when the man took out the wolf’s heart and began the familiar chant to the spell. He managed to cut through the cord in record time and jumped back up to his feet, grabbing the cleaver that was thrown at him earlier. Dean attempted to attack the man when he was distracted, but Leo managed to dodge, causing the hunter to drop the knife to the ground. Dean roughly shoved the other man to the ground, sparing him a few seconds as he quickly looked around to see if he might be able to find another weapon. Only when he looked to the chef he realized the spell had worked quickly when the man bared sharp canine teeth. 

Dean didn’t waste a second bolting out of the kitchen and through the hall, trying to distance himself from the psychopath before he could get himself or anyone else hurt. He found himself back outside with seconds to figure out how to take Leo down for good. A thought crossed his mind when the back door swung open. 

“Sorry.” Leo taunted the man. “Wolf trumps dog.” 

“Maybe.” Dean said. “But not a whole pack.” 

The good karma Dean had given to the dogs at the shetler was about to be returned in full. He whistled loud enough for the Colonel to come running only seconds later, along with all the others he freed earlier. When Leo realized the mutts were coming towards his direction, a panic set through him as he tried to find an escape. He tried to open the back door in which he came out with no success. The man was cornered with nowhere to go except to suffer the fate of his consequences. Dean watched on for a moment as the man was ripped apart by the mutts, his screams of pain fell on deaf ears. And when he knew for sure all of this was taken care of, Dean rushed back inside the restaurant, wanting to make sure you and his brother were all right. 

Dean tried not to panic when he saw the copious amount of dried blood on your neck and clothing with not a single scratch on your body. He crouched down to your level and tried to get you to wake up when he felt a pulse. You remained unconscious even when he cradled your head into his hands and moved you around slightly. 

“For the love of God, Y/N. Hey, sweetheart.” Dean could hear his voice tremor when you didn’t even flinch. He tried to somehow reach the angel that was quietly possessing your body, but all he got was nothing. You remained as you were. Dean began to softly slap your cheek to try and get you to come back around. “Hey. Come on.” He almost begged for you to snap out of it, not stopping until you opened your eyes. “Don’t make me lick your damn face.” 

Dean started shaking your entire body in a desperate attempt until he finally heard the sweet sound of you gasping for breath. You slowly opened your eyes as you started coming back into consciousness. A blurry sight of a worried Dean was the first thing you were greeted with. In true fashion, you weren’t sure what was going on, but the question that fell out of your mouth was about the well being of Sam when you didn’t see him. Dean couldn’t help the smile that crept on his lips as he helped you up from the ground and the both of you tended to his brother.

+ + + 

You always wanted to have a dog growing up. You even thought about getting one when you lived on your own, it might have made the loneliness a little easier. If the Colonel had somehow landed in your lap years ago before you started hunting you would have jumped on the chance to give him a good home. Dean's ability to read his mind had given him extra points for the attachment you had grown on him. But with the lifestyle you lead it would have been impossible. And you couldn't bear the thought of bringing him back to the pound. So, you thought of the next best thing. A couple of hippies who probably loved animals more than themselves.

“When you called us about adopting him, we couldn’t believe it.” Dylan made no effort to hide the smile on his face at the German Shepherd who was currently being overwhelmed with love from his wife, Olivia. 

“Aren’t you the sweetest?” She cooed at the dog.

“Ugh.” The Colonel grimaced as he tried to turn his head away from the lady. Dean chuckled to himself at the thoughts only he could hear. “Back off, tofu-breath.” 

“Oh, you must be starving.” Olivia said. “Lucky for you, I baked some vegan doggy cupcakes.” 

She jumped to her feet and went with her husband to the back of the kitchen to fetch those treats. You smiled to yourself at how happy they seemed. You looked down in the direction of the Colonel when you decided it was time for you and Dean to say your final goodbyes. All though you might not have been able to speak a single word to the mutt, there was a soft spot in your heart for him. It was those damn puppy dog eyes that won you over. 

“I’m gonna be pooping wheatgrass with these two.” The Colonel said.

“Look, I know they’re hippie freaks, but they’re gonna give you a good home—one that you deserve.” Dean reassured the dog about the future for him. He crouched down so he was at level with him to have one more proper conversation. In a way Dean felt bad himself for not being able to adopt the Colonel from the way you had grown attached to him. He would be lying if he said the mutt didn’t grow on him, too. “Wish we could take you on the road with us, but it’s no life for a dog.”

“Don’t sweat it. I get carsick anyway.” The Colonel responded. He would grow comfortable in his new home with time. You crouched down to the ground with Dean to say your final goodbyes to the dog as well. Before you could even get a word out, you were bombarded with dog kisses that were slobbery and wet. You let out a genuine laugh at how much the Colonel's licks tickled your skin. "I'm gonna miss her the most. No offense, buddy.” 

“None taken.” Dean said. He watched for a moment as you seemed happy in that moment, the smile on your face was enough for him to feel some sort of peace he hadn't felt in weeks. Even if in the back of his mind it would eventually fade once all of you hit the road. 

“I should probably mention this, but I barfed in your backseat.” The Colonel felt the need to slip in some last minute information as you momentarily distracted Dean from the way you were coddling the dog as if he were a small child. “I was afraid to tell you earlier.” 

“You…” Dean’s first reaction was to get angry at hearing the surprise that was waiting for him.

“Come on.” The Colonel managed to speak first when Dean trailed off. He felt the need to remind him of the bonding moment you were having. “Don’t ruin the moment.” 

Dean brushed it off with a chuckle. “I’m gonna miss you, buddy.” 

“I’ll miss you, too.” The Colonel offered his paw for Dean to shake as their final farewell. Along with one more thing. “And by the way, as an honorary dog, there’s something you should know. Dogs aren’t really man’s best friend.” 

“What are you talking about?” Dean asked. 

“I know it sounds like a conspiracy theory, but the real reason we were put here was to…” The Colonel was about to give the man a piece of information that would change his life forever, but all that Dean heard next was a series of barks. None of which he understood. 

“Put here to do what?” Dean asked the dog, suddenly needing to find out the answer. All the Colonel could do was bark in some kind of attempt to communicate with him. But it fell on your untrained ears. “Oh, you gotta be kidding me. Oh, now the spell wears off?!”

Dean let out a frustrated sigh at how things seemed to always work out. Part of him was glad that things would finally get back to normal, but there would always be another part that wondered what kind of information he would never know. Both of you said your final farewells to the Colonel before heading out to the parked Impala where Sam had been waiting for you. 

“How’d it go?” Sam asked.

“Well, bad news is that I’m gonna miss the flea bag. Good news is it looks like the spell is finally wearing off.” Dean informed his brother, catching him up to speed with what the both of you knew. You faintly listened to the conversation as you crossed your arms over your chest and glanced back over to the bakery. A look crossed your face that worried Dean. “You okay? The stetson man got you pretty good.”

“What? Yeah, I’m fine. I just…I can’t stop thinking about what he said.” You chuckled to yourself at strange words you remembered him speaking to you before everything went black. You had told the boys when everything settled down. They had brushed it off as nothing, but for some reason you were still thinking about it. The entire situation didn’t make sense. 

“Oh, come on, sweetheart.” Dean said. “Guy was out of his freaking gourd.”

“Yeah, but, I mean, why would he ask that?” You asked the boys, as if they had some sort of explanation to Leo’s strange behavior. “Why did he want to know what I was?” 

“Who the hell knows? He was all jacked up on juice, you know? He was possessed by something he couldn’t control. It was…It was just a matter of time before it completely took over.” Dean tried to find an explanation that would put this conversation to bed once and for all. You didn’t seem all that convinced from the way you kept staring at him. “You can’t reason with crazy, right?” 

You let out a faint sigh. “I don’t know.” 

“Well, I do.” Dean said in a matter-of-fact voice. “Trust me, Y/N. You got nothing to worry about.” 

At the moment all you could do was take Dean's words at face value. You knew in the back of your mind that he was right. You were ordinary as the next person on the street. But you found yourself wondering one particular thing. How did you get covered in blood? Sam was perfectly fine without a scratch, and so was Dean. All of you were okay. Your fingers subconsciously scratched the side of your neck, the same spot you swore you remembered feeling claws dig into the skin and rip open. All that remained was smoothness, not a single scar. Maybe your head was still scrambled from the trials. That was the only thing that made sense to you. 

You loaded yourself up into the backseat of the Impala as the boys took their respectful spots like always. A comfortable routine that helped somewhat put your mind at ease. While Dean turned on the car and got ready to drive off, you found yourself smelling something that was slightly off. You sniffed the air a few more times as you grimaced at the foul smell that was almost coming out of nowhere.

“What’s that smell?” You asked. “It smells like…”

“Vomit?” Dean wondered. You nodded your head as you tried to find the source in the darkness of the night as he kept on driving. “The Colonel got sick. Watch your step.” 

"Oh, God. Ew." You grumbled to yourself. You quickly rolled down the window to let the fresh breeze of the night clear some of the foul smell and help ease your mind. You let out a quiet sigh as you turned your head to watch as the bakery got smaller in the distance. If one positive thing came from this case, it was knowing you had placed a dog in a safe home. "Good thing that mutt is cute." 

[Next Part]

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Message me if you would like to be added!

[pmiller1]

Wild I’m at it. I gonna post my own Eri headcanon myself.

Some would indeed inspired by @ask-theworldbeginswithyou 

Some Added Backstory 

Eri met Shiki, when she saw Shiki making Mr. Mew, It was so well done that she couldn't believe her eyes that she was good at making, She ask if she came make something for her that she wanted to wear herself. Three Year Ago.

Most if not all of her clothing that she mostly wear are made by Shiki, by her own design.

She a natural brunette. She dyed it for two year.

Before meeting Shiki, she wanted to made her own clothing but was unable do to her fear of needle.

She live with her penthouse with her Mother and Step-Dad.

She and Neku are in fact Step-Sibling.

She know Neku Sakuraba, but never personally met him do to his rude persona he put on. Before Shiki befriend him.

It was Shiki's father whom inform Eri about her Death (well hospitality now) when he call her. She took it to mean that he blame her for his girl death (or near-death).

She also was inform about Nao's Death (hospitality), given she and Nao-Nao was close friends.

She all Ace in All Classes.

She too is a fan of Cat works.

Her full name is Erica Kanjishii. However she like to be call Eri for short.

Possible Reaper Game Headcanon

Her enter Fee would be her memory of her close friends. She wouldn't know Shiki, Beat, Neku, Rhyme, Ai, Mina, Nao-Nao, Sota and possible more people. 

However is Possible it would just be the Memory of Shiki.

Do to her imagination, she be about to use most if not all the Pins. She would flavor D+B, Natural Puppy and Hip Snake.Her Foci (An object that tide with their Psych, like Neku's headphone, Shiki's Mr Mew) would be her Multi-Colour Pen that she use for drawing her design.

Relationship

Wild Eri is popular in school, she had those that she keep close as her friends. The one that she know, trust and love to most. Eri isn't one see herself in a Relationship, even if she a fan of romantic genre. Most of the date are ended of breaking off, as most of the boy in classes thinking that she easy to get, do to her way of dress outside of school. Not that she would let some pervert get to her. But it does make her feel like she couldn't be loved as in really loved her. Her close friend help her remove any of those donut. I pass her as Panromantic Demisexual. And before you ask. The gang are part of her close friend.

Shiki: Her best friend. As it was her skill that help made clothing that she thought up. Helping her toward her dream. She does feel jealousy toward her skill with the needle, as her fidget hand make her prick herself most of the time. But she hold it behind her as she really glad she had over all and never want to lose her, she wasn't consciously aware of it, but she haber feeling for lady. It really hit home when the accident happen to Shiki left her hospitality (at least she think, do to a memory changed, if you will) for 3 week. Now she can't help see Shiki in a new light. She try to keep it to herself, but her Hormone and jealousy toward Neku make her burst her feeling about her every time. That she always shock that she return the feeling back. This does help her feel a lot better. Not that she still she her as her best friend. She still had her little fun with thrusting her and Neku.

Neku: She doesn't know what make this antisocial become friend with Shiki at alone the other of his gang, other then the idea her and met when they both was hospitality (again, memory changed if you Headcanon that), doesn't stop her from Questioning him most of the time, like the time he almost said Shiki name to her, why he had to make sure she said the right thing toward Shiki. She really can't to feel jealousy as he seem to be make Shiki better for herself (and the two dating, no matter hard they deny it). She really feel like he a better friend then her. Witch amaze her then Neku told her that he not gonna take Shiki apart of her, able start this friendship and feeling support to Neku and Shiki (in her own trushing way)

Beat: At 1st, she didn't think to much of him, he was a idiot, lord, and give off this bad boy. It doesn't help that he doesn't seem remember her name right, calling her Shiki disputed she and her look nothing. But soon she got to know him as something as a good brother to Rhyme, a Good friend even Shiki and Neku, and wild he call Shiki, it more then like call by her own name most of time. That fact she was starting to seem him cute and started to like to guy, witch end having feeling for him. Thinking that he couldn't hurt to ask him out at least (it always the other way), when she ask Rhyme, it became very something as she find out that he like her back and was worry he would think she see him as some pervert. That made it more fun for her.

Rhyme: A sweet kids she saw her as, so he start to became from with her easily with her. Still she may make joke about her tomboyish must of the time, but mean no harm. How that she and Beat are starting, she already calling her Eri-san, or even Onee-san, already she becoming a Sister-in-Law with her.

The White Angels: Just to be clear, Shiki is also part, in fact Eri and Shiki are co-founder. This is included Nao-Nao and Mina who are her close friend of her, She is also friend Ai and Sota thank to that.

Swag

She fidgeting with her pinky ring.

She very picky eater, she mostly eat when she only hungry or by other people reminding her, Do to her anorexia.

Her phone is Green, One that show the close friendship with Shiki, given she wear Green and it stand out for her. (As Shiki had a Pink Phone for that reason).

[ajokeformur-ray]

Hey if you don't mind doing one for ledger joker and arthur /joker ❤ I'm 18, 1,65 m, fem and polish/german. Kinda goth/punk, wear glasses, naturally brown hair and deal with childhood trauma. I dont wanna be coddled tho. I like drawing, writing in my diary, chilling w/ my cat and maladaptive daydreaming. I'm into psychology and philosophy, tend to obsess over things/ppl and have few but close friends. Would love to be part of some action and shenanigans with my s/o 😅 Hope that's enough uwu ❤💕

Arthur // wc: 499.

There’s a seventeen year difference between the two of you and there’s a four inch difference in height between the two of you so to say that Arthur was protective of you was… an understatement. Arthur would be fascinated by the way that you dress. People in Gotham are usually quite repressed and they don’t take kindly to any type of individuality, so your confidence in being self-expressive would really be something which Arthur greatly admires and he’d absolutely compliment you every time he sees you; your hair, your clothing, everything. He would want to believe that spending large quantities of time with you would also make some of your confidence rub off on him, and years later would he think himself to be right. Arthur has his own share of childhood trauma so he would understanding the struggle and though he wouldn’t ever pry, he would make it known that he’s always there for you if you want to vent or talk about it; he wouldn’t coddle. Not only because he’s emotionally intelligent enough to know that you don’t appreciate it even without his having to ask you, but also because he knows that that approach can sometimes do more harm than good, and he would want you to know that he’s proud of you every single day, that he loves you, and that he’s there for you no matter what. He’d definitely overall be very protective of you, all things listed here considered. 

Arthur adores watching you get lost in your element while you draw or write. He never pries or intrudes and during late evenings does he like to sit with you while he writes in his joke book and you in your diary. You always look so cosy, curled up with your cat and your craft, and when you get lost in a daydream, Arthur would smile softly to himself and hope that, at least a little was he featured within somehow. Your interests in psychology and philosophy are intense and though Arthur wouldn’t understand much of the material which you study, he would want to; and he’d often ask you questions, especially about those topics which specifically hold your interest. He admires your intellect and loves to relax to the sound of your voice as you tell him about the latest subject.

You both tend to obsess over people and things; Arthur, because it’s a defence mechanism borne of a life of daily abuse and you for your own reasons. You’re selective over the people with whom you choose to befriend and that never ceases to make Arthur blush and stammer; you chose him, of all people?! He feels unworthy of your attention but he dares not question it, for fear of you finally realising that you deserve so much better than him. Nothing scares Arthur quite like the thought of you leaving him and so, though he doesn’t understand it, he keeps quiet. He loves you just as fiercely and deeply, after all.

Joker // wc: 706.

If you thought that Arthur was protective of you before, then you’re in for a bit of a shock!! He’s even more protective now and he’s definitely less inclined to hide his almost overbearing manner of looking after you. He doesn’t coddle you, but after all this time is he excellent at figuring out your body language, your physical tells… He knows when you’re okay and when you’re not and he’d often check in on you, making sure that you’re okay. Joker doesn’t appreciate or tolerate insincerity, even from you, so be sure to answer him honestly. He’d coo sympathetically when you don’t feel so good and he’d sit down beside you and take both of your hands in his larger ones, his green eyes keeping you pinned in place as he listens to everything which is bothering you, and then he’d quietly but firmly voice his solutions and any advice which he thought may be of use to you. He’s so tender, and so intelligent, and in these moments does he really show you just how much he loves you. When you do feel good and you tell him so, he nods, satisfied, and tugs on his blazer as he looks around the room for something to do. He doesn’t coddle you, but he also doesn’t hide his innate level of care and protectiveness over you. 

By this point in your relationship is it well known to the both of you your nightly routine; Joker gets in from whatever he did during the day while you’re curled up with your cat and drawing or writing. He won’t disturb you, but he might dare to rest a hand on your shoulder for a moment as he walks past you, letting you know silently that he’s there for you and that he loves you. When you’re done drawing or writing, Joker waits for you to get settled before he puts his head in your lap, green oceans looking up at you expectantly. “So what is it today, Y/N? What are you gonna’ tell me?” and he gets comfortable, his eyes drifting shut as your fingers find his hair and you weave him a tale of the latest psychological journal released in the papers, or of a new philosophical school of thoughts which interests you. Joker is your biggest supporter and really, nothing has changed in your relationship. It’s only deepened and become something more than it was before. 

Both of you still obsess over people and things and now more than ever is Joker blown away daily by the fact that of all people, you chose him as Arthur and you stayed through his mental break until, “It’s Joker now, darling!” and you’re still here now. It baffles him but still does he not dare to question it, question you. He just accepts it as he is in much the same way as he accepted you for all that you are, all that you have been and all that you ever will be. Joker takes a massive interest in your interests because it’s just another way for him to support you, get to know you a little more and the like. The first time that you said you wanted to “werewolf and go wild with you, please?”, he blinked prettily a few times, his cheeks caressed by his long lashes as he did so, and then a slow, sure real devilish smirk took over his face, aided only by the macabre crimson red painted grin. “Sure you can, doll.” and with a few happy skips over to you did he take your hand in yours, his fingers sliding between the gaps in your own, and the two of you terrorised Gotham. You didn’t always go with him, for sometimes did Joker just need his alone time, and you needed yours, too, but when you did, it was a night no one in the entire city would forget for a while, so wide spread were your joint destructive, morally grey tendencies. Overall, no matter what he calls himself, Arthur Fleck is the same man at his core and he loves you so deeply and tenderly that it drives you mad every time you stop to think about it.

J // wc: 767.

J doesn’t really care that you’re roughly a decade younger than he is. You’re a fully informed, consenting adult who knows your own mind, so where’s the problem? He’s got bigger plans to consider, if nothing else. Your general aesthetic is something which J quite enjoys; it looks just dark enough to fit in with his own sense of organised chaos and he’d definitely steal tailor made outfits for you, leaving them in your apartment with nothing but a joker card resting atop the bag it came in. He would expect you to wear them, and when next he sees you in them does he smirk, his intense chocolate eyes looking you up and down, a slow smirk spreading across his face. “Looks good on ya’, doll”; somehow does J know your exact measurements. If you ask him how, he would only shrug; but really, he just has a very exacting eye so one look at you from head to toe was he able to accurately guess your size. You’re both dealing with untold traumas; and J is far less likely to ever open up about them than you are. He remains something of a mystery, even to you, and there’s not even a little risk of being coddled by J. The mere thought makes his nose wrinkle in disgust, “Not gonna’ coddle ya’, Y/N. But if you, ah - if you want some help, I can - listen.” and he would definitely do what he could. You would lay side by side on the bed, an arm carelessly slung around your waist. J listens carefully, silently, and then he’d grunt and say something strangely profound which comforts you, even though what he said isn’t, really, all that comforting. He knows and he understands the pain of trauma, having had more than his fair share of it, so he knows well how to deal with it. 

You’re artistic but you’re also eloquent with words, so used are you to writing in a diary. J wouldn’t be all that bothered by your maladaptive daydreaming (unless you are, in which case he would do what he could to help you with it in his rough but caring manner) and he’d shrug and largely leave you to it when you get caught up in it; at least you’re occupied and he doesn’t have to worry about your safety while he’s off blowing up factories and tormenting Batman for the sake of it. You’re into the inner workings of the mind and truthfully so is J; though he’s “ahead of the curve” and knows exactly what goes on in people’s minds without even having to study it; so intelligent and wise is he. When J’s off during the day while you’re attending to your daily responsibilities, his goons keep an eye on you; he receives an hourly update on what you’re doing, where you are and the like; so protective of what’s his is he, but to put you on equal footing does at least one of his goons give you an hourly update; this small piece of trust which J puts in you means more to you than anything else he could have done to show you such a thing.

You both obsess over people; you, over those whom you choose to allow into your life, and J with Batman and getting the man to betray his tight moral compass. You come together in this fascination of each other and though you sometimes wonder what it is about you that keeps J coming back to you, truthfully does he wonder what you keep coming back for, though of course as quickly as the thoughts come does he brush them off. His thoughts can easily take a downward turn if he doesn’t control them, so he prefers to not entertain them. You’re quite adept at reading J’s body language, his physical tells, and you can predict his mood and motives nine times out of ten; this means that you are the perfect person to accompany him on whatever it is that he likes to do. You only ever go with him when he’s sure that you’re not going to be put in any kind of danger. As I said, J protects what’s his and you’re no exception to this. “You and I are partners in life and in crime, aren’t we?” He’d giggle and then offer you a tryout; you pass, of course, and so it comes to pass that J and Y/N are two names which are spoken as one; for where one goes is the other sure to follow.

[ma-sulevin]

We’re finally done! It’s officially the last chapter! 

I want to thank everyone for supporting me through my first attempt at writing in the FC5 fandom. I don’t know why I decided to start with a novel-length AU idea, but I did, and it’s done, and I’m so happy I did it. 

I want to extend an extra-special thanks to @chyrstis​ who has commented on and shared every single chapter. Your comments gave me LIFE through this whole process.

Pairing: Sharky Boshaw/Female Deputy Rating: E Warnings: Canon-typical violence, but nothing particularly explicit I don’t think Word Count: 4338, chapter sixteen of sixteen!

Read it on AO3 instead and say nice things.

---

The official diagnosis, six weeks later, after the National Guard and the feds and the EPA and the fuckin’ news crews have come and gone, is mass drug-induced hallucination. 

That’s it.

That’s the whole reason.

Mattie knows there’s more to it, knows there was something special behind it all. She’s the only one who remembers so much, the only one who can clearly describe how it feels to drown or be strangled to death, the only one who spent so much time listening to the black white black and the Voice.

She’s the only one who heard the voice except for Joseph, and he never fucking shuts up about it, even from the relative safety of his prison cell in Missoula, and so she’s never ever ever going to fucking bring it up.

Not to Staci, who smiles and teases her with just a little less energy than before, acting like he doesn’t remember the details of what happened to him in Jacob’s compound, but affected by it all the same.

Not to Joey, who smiles less often, who still curses every time someone brings up a Seed, who says it’s a damn good thing the National Guard showed up when they did or she would’ve hunted John down herself.

Not to Whitehorse, who is the quietest of them, whose sole moment of lost temper was immediately on returning to the station when he grabbed Nancy by the arm and threw her out into the parking lot, who has started offering Mattie hugs and pats on the back when it looks like she needs them (basically all the time).

Certainly not to Burke, who left without sleeping the next day, who she hasn’t seen since.

And absolutely not to the state therapist who brought two big suitcases and moved into the Hot Springs Hotel, only to have to drive into Falls End every day because no one would go into the Henbane yet.

She’s not trying to get involuntarily committed.

If she’s going to be committed, it’ll be on her own terms, and only when she needs it.

And she doesn’t need it, not yet.

She’s seen as something of a hero around the county, receiving free drinks from Mary May and free food from everyone else. People stop her to say thank you, and Boomer always runs up to jump on her if he happens to be nearby with Rae Rae.

That slows down too, as the days pass and things go back to normal, and only the people most involved in her fight against the Seeds look like they’re thinking about her bleeding for them when they look at her.

She starts looking at property listings online.

It’s not like she’s ever going to get fired now.

It takes the full six weeks — two weeks of paid leave, four weeks of being back on the job — for Jude to show up at the station. He has coffees for everyone and a look of grim determination on his face.

Staci sends a furtive look at Whitehorse, who feigns disinterest, and then accepts the coffees with a quick peck on the lips, and then Mattie hands Joey five dollars because she thought it would take longer.

(Mattie wins the five dollars back from Staci later when he owes her for Mary Mary bringing Joey lunch.)

She takes to visiting Jerome after services on Sundays, not quite ready to start going to church again, but craving the kind of spiritual guidance he gives so easily without making her feel like she’s going to hell no matter what.

She visits the Ryes, takes them baby gifts, receives hugs from them both, listens to Kim complain about how she was technically pregnant an extra two months until the memories start to fade and then are erased by Carmina’s abrupt appearance into the world.

She visits Grace, visits Jess, drives up to look at the abandoned Veteran’s Center, with its inhabitants arrested and its weapons cache seized, and thinks if she burned it to the ground, no one would turn her in for it.

Every night she goes back to her apartment, every night she goes home and puts a little food out for the stray cat and thinks about taking one of the sleeping pills her therapist recommended and gets in bed without opening the bottle, every night she curls around her pillow and she cries.

If the bombs had fallen that night she was with Sharky, before she snuck out without saying goodbye, if they had fallen first thing that morning before the sun came up… she would still be with him. They’d be together, in his bunker, alone but together, probably high as fuck and burning through their condom supply.

The world would be over, but they would be happy.

It’s selfish.

It’s so selfish.

But she misses it.

She misses him.

The therapist makes it eight weeks in Hope County before she packs up and goes back to Missoula. She leaves a recommendation for a virtual office, and Mattie puts the card next to her unused pills, but she thinks she overhears Staci telling Jude he’s going to set up regular appointments.

She gets Joey’s tattoo artist’s information from her and starts to look at phoenix tattoos on Pinterest, the blank space of her left forearm mocking her without its tally marks.

Mattie makes it nine weeks before she breaks under the strain. She makes it through nine weeks of emptiness, of loneliness, of the crushing feeling of how any moment could be her last.

Is this how she lived before? Was she ever so aware of her own mortality, or did she go through life acting like she was fucking invincible until the fact of it was actually shoved in her face?

She wakes up with the sun on her day off. She showers. She shaves. She conditions and blow dries and styles. She puts on a dress and grabs a sweater.

And she drives to the Henbane, up the hill, and to Sharky’s trailer.

He’s standing outside when she parks her car, an unlit cigarette in his mouth and a bucket in one hand. He looks over at her from under the brim of his hat and dumps another handful of… something… on the ground, then holds the bucket in front of him with both arms wrapped around it.

“You said you wasn’t gonna arrest me for any of that shit I did!”

Mattie freezes in place, halfway across to him, and just stares.

He stares back.

“Does it look like I’m on duty?” Her voice come out higher-pitched than she means it, incredulous and not sure if she should start laughing or not. “Does Joey ever show up like this to drag you to the station?” She kicks one foot out to the side to emphasize the skirt she’s wearing, and his gaze immediately drops to the bare expanse of legs he can see.

“Uhh--”

“What are you even doing right now? What is that?”

“Uhh.” He looks down into the bucket, movements a little slow like he doesn’t want to look away from her skin, then he stares like he forgot the question. When he looks back up, she can tell his eyebrows are drawn tight together. “Sawdust.”

“Sawdust?”

“For the gasoline spills? I’m tryna… clean the place up a bit?”

They stare at each other as silence falls again. It stretches until it’s uncomfortable, and then it snaps.

Mattie bursts into tears. Not little ones, not anything cute or delicate, but big, ugly sobs that wrack her whole body and make her start to curl in on herself as she starts to shake. Her voice rises in an involuntary wail that she tries to muffle with her hands, but she can’t quiet it any more than she can stop it.

The tears overwhelm her, and so does Sharky.

There’s a dull thump of the bucket hitting the ground and then he’s in her space a half second later, his arms around her and one hand cupping the back of her head to pull her close. She presses into him, head tucked under his chin, and grabs the soft material of his hoodie for dear life.

The sharp smell of kerosene lingering deep in the fabric makes her cry harder at first as half-foggy memories burst into full clarity in her mind.

Climbing into his lap to sleep in John’s ranch, high and bruised and happy.

Kissing him for the first time behind the Spread Eagle after he arranged a private place for her to relax after rescuing Joey.

Drinking with him up at the PIN-K0 radar station and resting against him as he joked with Hurk.

Falling into his arms after she escaped from Jacob, shoulder dislocated, starving and sick. Healing and growing stronger, tucked safe against him, under him.

Feeling happy and safe and loved and protected with him.

Feeling home. 

She doesn’t realize Sharky’s murmuring to her until her sobs have calmed into tiny gasping breaths and her tears have dried on the faded words of his hoodie, she doesn’t realize he’s whispering that it’s okay and he has her and she’s safe until after her body has already realized it.

She’s safe.

“You’re okay, shorty, I got you,” he says, voice barely audible with his face buried like it is in her hair. “Fuck, I missed you. Please stop crying.”

She lifts her chin so her nose is pressed against his throat. “I’m sorry.”

He draws in a shaky breath and holds her tighter until he exhales. “What for?”

“Waiting so long to come back home.”

His hands are shaking harder than she’s ever seen them as he pulls away enough to cup her face. He stares down at her, studying her, and she lets him just hold her like that even as he blinks his own tears out of his eyes.

“Dep, do you… are you saying you still… love me?” His voice is shaky and wet, those beautiful blue eyes red around the rims. It sounds like he’s forcing the question out, like part of him is trying to keep it inside where the answer can’t hurt him, but the bigger part of him is too goddamn hopeful to not ask.

She squeezes him tighter as she speaks, the words somehow hard to get out even after everything they’ve been through together, even after finding him in her arms once again. “Yeah, baby. I still love you.”

He squeezes her tighter, almost tight enough to hurt even though this time she doesn’t have any lingering injuries to make the pain sharp, but he doesn’t pull away to kiss her or to look down at her.

He’s not ready to let her go.

“Okay, but, like--” he pauses to take a deep breath, and Mattie braces herself for an emotional stream of consciousness from Sharky. “I know you know, ‘cause I told you before, and also ‘cause you’re a cop, but, like, I’m on probation, and I got this rap sheet that’s a mile long, and not all of it should be on there but I can’t really help that now, and I know the sheriff don’t like me, and I don’t want you to get in trouble at your job--”

She’s heard enough. She wiggles out of his grasp and grabs his face in both her hands. He cuts off mid-sentence and stares at her with his mouth still open like the rest of his thoughts will come out the second she takes her hands off his skin. 

“Sharky, babe, you don’t -- I don’t care about that. I knew all that, and I love you, and I’m here, and we’ll figure out how to work it out, okay?” He nods. His mouth closes. “I want to at least try. I couldn’t live with myself if we didn’t try.”

“Really?” His voice cracks, and Mattie’s self-restraint does too.

She pulls his face down to hers, and he goes willingly, leaning so far into her space that she finds herself leaning backwards, resting her weight in his arms. She throws her arms around his neck and holds on for dear life as his lips press to hers and his heart beats against her chest.

It feels just the same as she remembered. It’s warm and comforting, safe, and she can’t help but smile as his goatee scratches her chin. He still shivers when she tangles her fingers in his hair, and he still licks her lower lip after he nips it, and he still holds her as tight as he can.

Some things are new, different now that their circumstances have changed so much. He smells like his cheap shampoo instead of gasoline, and he tastes like cinnamon toothpaste instead of cigarettes or beer or coffee, and there’s no stench of bliss or lingering injuries or far-off gunfighting to ruin the moment.

It’s just like it was, but somehow… it’s better.

They break apart when their kisses begin to taste like salt, and Sharky wipes the tears from her cheeks, then he kisses her forehead.

“Oh, my god,” she breathes, eyes still squeezed shut. “I love you.”

He moves like he’s going to wrap her up in another hug, but he scoops her into his arms instead. She shrieks, considers lashing out, and then bursts into laughter instead.

He’s beaming at her when she wraps her arms around his neck for stability, then he starts carrying her up to his home.

“I love you, too, shorty. I’m glad you came back.”

He has to put her down on his porch to get the door to his trailer open, and she grabs his free hand as he does. It’s just like their first time together, when she held his hand to keep him from losing his nerve as they walked to the house he’d gotten ready for her, but this time, she’s just tugging him through to his bedroom as fast as possible.

He follows her, of course he does, laughing a little at her eagerness, and she winks at him over her shoulder.

He grabs for her as soon as they’re near the bed, wrapping his arms around her waist and letting one hand dip down to her ass to squeeze through the fabric. She smiles as she lets him pull her close, lifting up onto her toes so she can reach him better to accept his next kiss, this one a little harder than the one they shared outside, a little hungrier now that they’re definitely not going to be seen.

Why did she wait so long to come out here?

What was she trying to prove to herself?

Guilt creeps up on her, distracting her from the feel of his beard on her face and his tongue against hers, and then his hands pull her attention right back to him as they start to pull her skirt up so he can get his hands on her skin, still on her ass.

Sharky swallows the little noise of surprise she makes, moaning back at her as he squeezes and lifts and encourages her to lift one of her legs to wrap around his thigh.

“Oh, fuck, I missed you.” Sharky breaks their kiss because he can’t bear to be silent for another moment, and Mattie takes advantage of it by leaning closer and kissing the base of his throat. “Oh, my god. Do you know how many times I fuckin’ jerked it thinkin’ about you showing up here like you just did?”

She wiggles herself free of his grasp and pushes his chest so he sits down hard on his mattress. “That all you missed?”

She waits for his answer, trying to hide her smile, hands on her hips.

He blinks once, then grabs for her again, trying to pull her down into his lap. “No, fuck no, I missed everything about you.”

She kicks off her shoes and climbs onto him, hovering a little over his lap on her knees so she can tug at his hoodie to make him take it off.

“Like what?”

He pulls his hoodie off, and she rewards him by resting her weight on him. He bites his lower lip and groans; he’s already hard.

He buries his face in the crook of her neck, and speaks against her skin. “I missed you bossin’ me around all the time,” he says, and then leaves an open-mouthed kiss against her throat. “And how you always actually listened to me.” Another kiss, this time on the underside of her jaw. “And how you were always putting your cold fuckin’ hands in my shirt.”

She laughs and does just that, sliding her hands under the collar of his tank top to rest on the warm skin of his back. He shivers good-naturedly and noses her sweater to the side so he can find a good patch of skin under her collarbone to latch onto.

“I kinda missed always having hickeys,” she says, rocking just a little in his lap to tease them both, telling the truth even though she wouldn’t admit it to anyone else. She liked having the little reminders of Sharky when they were apart, the little bruises that showed she had someone who cared about her as much as she cared about him.

Sharky makes a little grumbling sound that sounds like he wants to talk, but he doesn’t release her skin as he focuses on sucking a mark that will last, and she laughs again, delighted. 

He finally releases her and admires his handwork before looking up to meet her gaze. “You always laughed a lot when we were foolin’ around, but not like, at me, you know? Just ‘cause you were havin’ fun. I missed that too.”

She moves her hands to cup his jaw, holding him still so she can memorize the expression in his warm blue eyes. “I love you so much.”

He beams at her. “I love you more.”

She kisses him again because she doesn’t know what else to say, doesn’t know how else to show him how she feels. 

The relationship they built while fighting the cult together was too strong to fade away like the physical pains and sharp-edged memories of the horrors. It feels now, wrapped up in each other, that they’ve never been apart and will never be apart again.

She drops her sweater to the floor and yanks off Sharky’s top, desperate to feel his skin against hers. He only lets her move enough to remove clothing and then grabs for her again, not willing to let her get very far away at all. 

He flips them, finally, when she starts trying to get at his belt, turning so that she’s flat on his mattress and he’s kneeling over her. He ignores her reaching hands and slides his hands up her legs, smooth for the first time he’s touched them, then back down, then up again all the way to where her panties rest on her hips.

“That’s ni— oh, fuck.” He pauses with her panties half down her thighs, exposing how she’s shaved herself completely for him. She didn’t know if he’d prefer it or not, knows he absolutely doesn’t care if she’s completely hairy, but it felt good to take the time to follow her old routines. “Fuck, yeah, okay.”

He flips her skirt all the way up and leans down without any other words leaving his lips to cover her slit with his mouth.

He’s just as enthusiastic as she remembers, and she shrieks as his tongue presses into her. It’s wet and messy and eager and so Sharky that she can’t do anything but hold on with her fingers tangled in his hair and her heels digging into his back. He groans against her, feasting on her, eyebrows drawn together as he focuses all his energy on giving her the most pleasure he can.

His beard burns her sensitive skin, wetness drips down the curve of her ass and onto the back of her dress, and Sharky’s fingers press little bruises into the flesh of her thighs as he holds her still. 

It’s so good, it’s too good, and it’s wonderful, and if this is how it’s going to be the rest of her life she might just die for good with his head between her legs.

What a fuckin’ way to go.

She wails as she comes, pulls Sharky’s hair and kicks his back by accident, and then she laughs a little hysterically when he tries to keep going like he did their first morning together.

“Stop, fuckin’ Christ, Sharky. Holy shit.” He stops right when she says, sits back on his knees and beams down at her, proud of himself, face flushed and beard wet, stupid gold chain still around his neck because he never takes it off. “I love that you love that so much, but if you want me to ride you again, you’re going to have to quit it.”

His mouth drops open a little as he sucks in a deep breath, the flush on his cheeks darkening dangerously, and then he’s twisting around in obedience to flop on the mattress next to her. He opens his belt and wiggles his jeans down over his hips as Mattie pushes herself to her feet so she can drop her dress with her sweater and grab a condom from the pile she remembers, and then she turns around to see him watching her with one hand tucked behind his head and the other slowly pumping his cock.

She watches him right back for a minute, taking in the red and orange ink on his forearm, the twisting of the muscles there making the flames look like they’re dancing, the burned skin on his shoulder and chest, the hair across his pecs and stomach, the little bit of tummy he sucks in when he sees her looking.

“This what you did waiting for me to come back?”

He nods at her, pumping himself a little harder as he keeps waiting. He doesn’t look back up at her face, apparently unable to drag his eyes away from her breasts, her stomach, her bare thighs still glistening when she takes a step forward.

“Here.” She tosses him the condom and climbs on the bed as he rolls it on, then crawls over him on all fours as he watches her with wide, fond eyes. “Ready, baby?”

“Fuck yeah,” Sharky says, voice a little too rough to be as bright as it usually is. He puts one hand on her ribs and holds himself steady with the other so she can sink down on to him, and he moans aloud as she does. He doesn’t look away from the sight, and she doesn’t look away from his face, and as soon as he’s hilted inside of her she’s leaning down to kiss him.

He tastes like her, and she licks it from his mouth as she starts to move on still-shaky legs, fucking him nice and slow so she can drag it out. He can’t stop touching her, running his hands over her thighs and hips, ribs and breasts, into her hair that’s so much softer than it was in the bliss for her access to proper conditioning treatments, across her neck and down her back to start the process over again.

The drag and slide inside of her is exquisite, beautiful, a feeling she’s missed these long weeks, and she can’t stop kissing him even when her face starts to burn. She fucks him a little harder when his groans grow louder, feels sweat beading along her hairline and dripping down her temple before Sharky kisses it away.

“Sharky, baby, you feel so good,” she says, cheek pressed against his, trembling as his fingers tighten on her hips and he thrusts up into her like he can’t help it anymore. “Gonna make me come again.”

His groan is deep in his chest, his next thrust a little harder into her, knocking off her balance so she falls against his chest with a high, breathy giggle. 

He wraps his arms around her and holds her against him, using his leverage to start really fucking into her. She giggles again and holds onto his shoulders, nuzzling against his cheek as she just relaxes her body and lets the pleasure grow inside her, listening to his deep groans.

She loves how loud he is when they’re in bed together, how willing he is to let her know how good she’s making him feel.

“Yeah, just like that, I love it, I love you, c’mon, baby…”

His hands tighten and she revels in it, in the bright spots of pain under the pleasure, and she presses her face against the scar on his shoulder and cries out, long and low, as she comes on his cock. 

He follows her over the edge immediately, like he was just waiting for her permission, his moan half muffled in her hair as he curls into her. She shivers and clenches around him, tight, pulling another low moan out of him, and she sits up a little and laughs because otherwise she might cry at just how goddamn happy she feels, finally, finally, after everything.

Sharky beams up at her, eyes half-closed and sleepy looking, and tucks a loose curl behind her ear.

She kisses him, soft and slow, still smiling, and then moves to stretch out on her side next to him. She waits as he gets up to throw out the condom, then he comes back and gathers her into his arms.

He kisses her forehead. “Now what?”

She shrugs and nuzzles at the underside of his jaw. “We just take it one day at a time, I guess.”

He makes a sleepy, grumbly noise deep in his throat. “Mkay.” Trusting, loving, beautiful Sharky. “I love you.”

She presses herself as close to him as she can. “I love you too.”

[ssttitdramon]

No Spiders There

Ramón Morales x Reader

Request: Can you do a fluffy lil Ramón x reader 👀

Word Count: 1,341 (definitely not lil, sorry!)

Note: You know the drill, our boys are back and Ramón did not leave :) Also, if you’d like send in a request, take a look at the rules.

Warning: Mentions of underage drinking (it’s none of these kids tho)

“Wait. Ramón stop, I’m serious.” you giggle, trying to get him to hold still as he dodges his head away from your fingers.

You were currently kneeling on the sofa over the grinning boy, his left leg between your knees. Ramón finally sat still, grabbing your hip when he noticed your leg wobble from his swift movements. You finally pulled at the last piece of white thread tangled on his hair, remnant of the “spooky spider prank” Chuck pulled when he answered his door to the two of you. You proudly show Ramón the strand as you tousle his hair, “Gotta also make sure there’s no more fake spiders in th-”

“Ahem. Can the two of you please stop making out in my living room? C'mon, before my mom sees you and starts waving the Bible around.” Chuck interrupted as he walked in, tugging at the sleeves of his peculiar Halloween costume. 

You however, finally notice just how close you were to Ramón, not to mention his hand on your hip and his thumb on the waistband of your skirt, dangerously close to touching your skin. You quickly get up, ignoring the small smirk forming on his lips or the amused look on his eyes, which have definitely noticed the blush blossoming on your cheeks by now.

Turning his attention away from you- Ramón zeroed in on Chuck’s costume, “That’s a weird Superman costume.“ 

"Yeah, it doesn’t have the S. What’s up with that?” you hear Ruth ask from the restroom, fixing her shiny Glinda the Good Witch crown over her hair.

“I’ve been telling you guys I’m Doctor Strange this year!” Chuck whined, waving his orange gloves around and pointing to the round gold plastic clip that held his red cape around his shoulders.

You adjust your black headband cat ears, “Alright then Doctor Strange, do you think Auggie’s really going to be a vampire again this year?” you ask.

Right on time you hear knocking on the door, Stella’s blonde wig flashing by the front window. Chuck opens the door to Count Dracula and Melanie Daniels. 

“Well, how do we look?” Auggie bares his pair of plastic pointy teeth. Stella brushes past the tall boy and poses in her green suit with two pinned mock birds secured on her jacket, you give her two thumbs up.

“That’s a vampire alright.” Ramón answers you from behind.

“I am Dracula, big significant difference. And why aren’t you dressed?” Auggie huffs, everyone turning to look at Ramón.

Ramón shrugs, “Guess I ran out of time to come up with something. But okay, if we find a cowboy hat and a red bandanna at this party… then I’m your cowboy.” he suggests, sending you a wink as you shake your head. Already wearing his leather jacket and a white shirt, everyone accepted his excuse- mumbling something about getting him an actual costume next year.

The party Ramón mentioned is the one big Halloween party being thrown at some cheerleader’s house this year, just about every teen in Mill Valley was invited and Ruth insisted on leading the five of you into it. The Good Witch glides out of the restroom, “Very well then children, off we go.” she announces, pointing her small wand to the door. 

Everyone decided to walk to the party (with the exception of Ramón giving you a piggyback ride halfway there) since it was only three blocks away from the Steinberg household. Once you got to the two-story house guarded by jack-o-lanterns and several skeletons, you could hear the chatter and music from outside. 

“This place is a freaking mansion. Should we knock?” Chuck held his hand over the front double doors. Before anyone could reply, the right door swung open and a tall, lanky Mickey Mouse pushed his way out. Behind him, a giggling Minnie Mouse hot on his trail. 

“Well I’m gonna go find Chelsea, okay? I don’t want to see any of you drinking anything that’s been handed to you, especially you Chuck.” Ruth warned, making her point clear as she stood in front of the doorway with her hands on her hips. 

Inside, you immediately recognized half of Mill Valley High seniors dancing in the spacious living room. Before you could take another step you felt an arm wrap around your waist, stopping you from running into the supporting pillar of the extensive staircase. Realizing the arm belonged to Ramón, you turned around, already losing yourself in his eyes and thanked him. 

Before either of you could say anything else, you hear Chuck snicker to Auggie, “Guess he should be her boyfriend for Halloween, huh?” Auggie rolls his eyes and groans, didn’t seem like the first time Chuck made that joke so far. Auggie and Stella push Chuck into the crowd before he opened his mouth again. Ramón’s eyes move from Chuck to you as if he was checking for your reaction. After you give him a blank look -hoping to seem like you didn’t hear it, he suggests going to the kitchen.

In there, several band kids were cheering on Frankenstein to drink what remained of a Vodka bottle sneaked from the upstairs study. Others simply danced around the kitchen, while two girls were impressively dancing on the counter without knocking any drinks or snacks. The two of you push your way to the bowls of candy, you grab a cup and fill it to the brim with peanut M&Ms. 

You turn to Ramón, getting close to his ear “Let’s go dance.” you say over the music and the kitchen crowd hoots, which were now on a mummy and a wolf competing on who could finish their drink first.

Ramón pulls you closer, “Sorry, but I can’t dance.” he shrugs. You scoff, noticing a tiny abandoned cowboy hat sitting on the counter, you place it on his head.

“I don’t believe you, cowboy.” happy with his smile from his new nickname, you grab his hand and lead him to the living room. Unable to spot your friends, you start dancing on the spot. Your only audience being Ramón, who took his place leaning against the wall to admire you. 

After two songs you send Ramón a pout, “You can’t just stand there the whole night.” waving him closer.

“I can if it’s you, kitty.” he laughs, stepping closer to you, “C'mon, let’s go outside. It’s getting pretty stuffy in here." 

Putting his hand on the small of your back, Ramón leads you through a hall and over to a small porch on the side of the house. He quickly turned off the porch light to avoid the interest of others joining the two of you there. 

The sudden lack of light made you jump, taking your eyes time to adjust to the moonlight as the two of you sit on the porch swing. Ramón chuckles, apologizing for scaring you before unexpectedly pulling you closer to kiss your forehead. 

You freeze, heart beating a 100 miles per hour. Did he just… kiss your forehead? You gaze into his dark eyes, "You’re absolutely adorable and gorgeous, you know that?” he asks before you could say anything else.

You roll your eyes, “Of course I am, cowboy. You’re lucky I spend my precious time with you almost all day, everyday.” you tease, drawing a sweet smile from him.

“I sure am.” he confides softly, still holding you close. You bite your bottom lip, trying your best from spilling your heart out on that porch. You were sure he could probably hear it hammering against your chest by now.

Ramón’s eyes dart from your eyes to your lips. Caressing your face, he presses two small kisses on your cheek before stopping at your lips, waiting for you to close the distance. You meet his soft lips, wrapping an arm around his neck. He lets out a low hum while you softly run your fingers through his hair, knocking off the small hat. 

You smile into the kiss, briefly breaking away just a bit, “No spiders there.”

~Feedback is always appreciated!

[aloeveraspeaks]

Something Sweet (Part 1)

A/N: This is a short I’ve been working on and it’s longer than I intended but it’s basically what happened in FPA cooking club before it was set on fire on the first day.

               Nanda walked into the cooking club room to see if anyone was in there, “Hi?” she asked hesitantly. Receiving no response Nanda decides to sit down in a nearby chair and draw. A few minutes later Coraline waltzes into the room with an apron and a cat paw oven mitt in hand. She notices Nanda and decides to introduce herself.

               “Hello, I’m Coraline! What’s your name?” She chirps.               

              Tika notices Coraline wander in, she’s curious as to what she’s doing so she follows her into the room.

               Adrien checks their watch as they sprint down the hallway. They’re late for their club, so they round the corner and jump into the room. Out of breath they burst out, “Sorry for being late! I hope we can still get stated on baking.”

               Akaiif wanders into the room seeming to be looking for something. “Hm? Hello?” They take a step in.

               “I really should think about getting here earlier.” Adrien sighs. He heads to the back of the room pocketing a note from Aloe with some vegetables from gardening club. He chuckles at whatever the note said as he begins to put everything away. Then he turns to greet the others.

               “Do you need something?” Coraline asks Akaiif with a friendly smile.

               “I was just looking around the school, it’s been a while since I’ve been here.” They look around once more. “Are you part of the cooking club?”

               Coraline nods, “Yup! Not freshly new, I’ve been in this club since last year.”

               “Ohhh, I think I saw you last year… anyways, I’m Akaiif.” They move in more to sit down at a table.

               Adrien goes up to address the two, “Are you joining the club today Akaiif?”

               “Oh no I actually used to come here to talk to the teach since he got handy tips on cooking. I’m already a part of a different club though.”

               “Oh that’s alright! You can still join us for today if you’d like.” Adrian smiles kindly, “we’re not doing much today, just baking cookies, but it should still be fun!”

               “How delightful!” Akaiif responds, “I wouldn’t mind helping, but I don’t think I’ll be eating cookies anytime soon.” They point to their mouth, it seems to be covered in duct tape.

               Nanda finally notices the others, she must’ve gotten absorbed into her sketching. “Oh hi guys. I’m Ananda but you can call me Nanda. Nice to meet you!”

               At this point Aloe walks into the room to see if anyone got the vegetables, “Hello!” She greets noticing everyone in the club. She glances to Adrian.

               Akaiif waves to Nanda and Aloe, “Hello.”

               Afrien loked a bit confused, but he didn’t want to ask about the duct tape so he turns his attention to Aloe, “Ah Aloe, Hello there!”

               “What’re you guys making?” Aloe asks.

               “Cookies!” Adrian respinds gleefully practically bouncing wih excitement, “what are you doing here roomie? Plan to join us too?”

               Akaiff got up and put on an Apron. Aloe joined them, “Sure why not.” She responded. “I was actually just coming to see if you got the ingredients.”

               “You two have the right idea! Everyone put on your aprons, while I search for the recipe I found.” Adrien pulls a stack of paper from his bag and ruffles through them.

               “Mind if I join?” Tika asks, “I’ve been wandering in and out for an hour, not gonna lie.”

               Adrian nods, “Anyone is allowed to join, cooking is more fun as a group!” He hands out the recipe for raspberry thumb print cookies then puts on an apron.

               “I can help bake! Thanks!” Tika says.

               “I believe Mr.Hour puts the flour here.” Akaiif opens a cabinet and grabs some flour.

               “I actually might need some help.” Tika laughs nervously.

               “That’s alright, you don’t need to know how to cook, any of us can help.”

               “Thank you! You’re so Sweet.” Tika replies.

               “I think Mr. Hour keeps the jam in the fridge let me get it.” Aloe says rushing to the fridge to pull out the ingredient.

               “Oooh I’ve never had these.” Nanda says having finished reading the recipe. She put on an apron.

               “I try.” Adrian replies to Tika, as he sets his recipe on the table and grabs the sugar. “The cookies are really good, trust me.”

               “All cookies are good don’t worry.”

               “Thumbprint cookies can be amazing as long as you bake them right, I once had a batch with too much salt and it was gross.” Aloe chimes in.

               “Aloe is right.” Adrian agrees.

               Akaiif looks into the counters grabbing a bowl, rolling pin, and cookie cutters. “alright I got these things.”

               “Um anything easy I can help make? I’m good with knives and Sh*t.”

               “Good job, I fon;t know if we’ll need the rolling pin or cookie cutters but I hink it might be interesting to try making the cookies in special shapes!” Adrian smiled, “The fun of cooking is trying things out.”

               Akaiif turns to Tika and sarcastically says, “Depends, can you cut out a cookie by using a knife?”

               “Yea probably.”

               “How about we do star shapes for some.” Aloe suggests as Adrian skillfully mixes the ingredients together.”

               “Oooh! I can cut the school logo on others!” Tika adds.

               “Star shapes seem pretty cute.” Akaiif nods and says as Adrian speaks.

              “Star shapes sound cute I like that.”

              Aloe chuckles at how in unison they were.

              “Yeah, Ooh wait do you guys like my nails? I got them done in the bathroom on the third floor.” She sticks out her hand.

              “The school logo would be a great idea!” Akaiif says helping to mix.

              “Well, make sure none of the nail polish gets in the cookies!” Adrian warned half serious half joking.

              “Don’t worry, not gonna be a problem.”

              “We should do each of the house logos too!” Aloe suggests again.

              “Yeah, I got ideas in mind let me just pull the logos up on my phone.” Tika replies.

              “That’s nice.” Akaiif said as they looked over the recipe.

              “Let me turn on the over.” Aloe says as they turn it to the temperature directed. She smiles satisfied with it as Akaiif pours the dough onto the counter. Adrian rolls it out then Tika gets ready to cut it.

              Tika cuts the dough into shapes with a thing knife, “Is this good?”

              “Yeah! Great, thanks!”

              “Hello…! Can I join? Library was boring because no one wants to join in.” Alyssya peeks through the door shyly. She has to know what the equipment the group has so she can use it at about three am in the morning secretly

              “I think the logo cookies would also be nice to thank our teachers for all their hard work!” Adrian said, “We should also make bells, to thank Mr. Hour for letting us destroy his kitchen every afternoon.” He laughed nervously.

              “Pretty good.” Akaiif compliments leaning over Tika’s shoulder.

              “No problem! Yeah that’s a great idea! We can drop off a batch at the office, and hey there. Of course you can join!”

              “Yup, anyone is allowed to join us.” Adrian chimes in.

              Tika finishes cutting up a batch, and goes over to the pantry. “Does anyone mind if I make some tea to go with the cookies?”

              “Thanks!” Alyssya replies, “I kinda have to make a custom breakfast for my dorm mates.”

              “Oh cool. What kind?” Tika asks, making the tea despite not receiving a response.

              “That’s nice.” Akaiff adds.

              “How nice of you! Your roommates must be lucky to have you.”

              Akaiff starts cutting some dough to make some cookies too. Tika twirls a knife in her hand while waiting for the kettle to sound, “So how many batches are we making?”

              “I’ll have to do that for you and Ella sometime Adrian.” Aloe Jokes fondly nudging him in the shoulder.

              “Lucky, I’d say no? I love mothering a lot of people so…” Alyssya puts her bag down obviously filled with math text books.

              Adrian chuckled at Aloe, “You better.” He then turns to Tika, “we don’t have to make too many batches. We can’t overbake again or else Mr. Hour will have my head.” He says dramatically.

              “I mean… The more the merrier?” Tika suggests.

              “We can pass out the extras to the students!” Aloe chimes in.

              “Yeah… true.” Adrian says thoughtfully. “I’m sure people would love our baking.”

              “I can give some to student council.”

              Akaiif starts putting the cookies into rows on a baking pan. “Has anyone finished any cookies? I’m ready to put some in the oven.”

              “Go ahead and put the cookies you’ve finished in the oven, we’ll catch up to you!” Adrian says.

              “Alright.” Akaiif replies putting them in then setting a timer. They’re about to close the over when Aloe speaks up.

              “Wait!” She shouts, “Let me put mine in too!” She quickly runs over with the cookies on a pan and shoves them in closing the oven.

              “I’m mostly Chaotic at day! After all, I am the Dermit cult leader with… uh… hahaha…” Alyssya seems nervous like she’s not supposed to say a word, “Anyways what can I help y’all with.”

              “Alright two batches in the oven.”

              “I’m usually very chaotic, but like… student council and sh*t. Also baking is so domestic you legit can not be chaotic with this.” Tika replies.

              “Oh trust me, you can.” Aloe laughs.

              “I guess since we’re handing some out to the students you can start your own batch of cookies if you’d like!” Adrian replies, smiling and holding out a recipe.

              “Well fair.” Tika replies, “but I’m too tired to set anything on fire right now and I’ve already stabbed a lot of dough.”

              “Relatable.” Akaiif looks at the timer, “5 more minutes.”

               “Alright, I think I will make brownies! …Which is totally different from cookies but whatever! Everyone loves brownies!” Alyssya took her oversized jacket off and tied it around her waist. She rolls up her sleeves and begins measuring out the ingredients she will need.

               “So what do we do while we wait, guys?” Aloe asks.

               “Sure, brownies sound good too, but don’t make too much of a mess!”

               “Hmmm…. I don’t know.” Akaiif sat down thinking.

               “20 questions?” Aloe suggests.

               “Sounds fun!” Adrian agrees

               “I’m up for anything.” Alyssya says sifting flour.

               “Okay then I’ll start.” Aloe says pausing for a second, “Would you rather be a pig or a cow?”