#Silver would have the exact same “What About It” stare as your cat does in the picture‚ I'm sure!
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Sometimes my cat lies on the ground in funny positions (I know all cats do this and it’s normal but I’ve never gotten used to it it’s so funny)
and so I like to imagine Silver also lying on the ground in weird positions sometimes - not even to sleep; he just gets on the ground and looks up at everyone else as if they’re the weird ones - and purrs there
What a marvellously handsome floof🥰🥰 Give him some pets from me!
I think Silver sees absolutely nothing wrong with laying on the floor. Sure, furniture and pillows are comfortable, but nothing beats just flopping down on the ground every once in a while and staring at the ceiling for a bit (as dictated by my own personal experience). Even more if he can freely twist himself into some interesting pretzel shape to stretch out his muscles! And thus Espio on occasion walks into a room, nearly steps on his beloved because Floor Time is most enjoyable when done right in the middle of a walkway, and promptly is left quite baffled by the flexibility of Silver's spine and limbs. And any suggestion towards Silver to come lay on the couch instead is shot down immediately! I do think Silver on occasion can urge Espio to join him; I doubt Es minds that the floor is hard, he can deal with that no issue for sure. Silver can cuddle close to him then and enjoy Floor Time even more <3 Or Espio just leans down to give him some pets like you would do with a cat and promptly gets leered at all indignantly because Silver knows Espio thinks he's being silly, haha. But Espio cannot be blamed, the floof is too irresistible. Everyone else meanwhile is seconds away from tripping over Silver at any given moment whenever he does this; it has not yet incentivised him to go have Floor Time in a quieter spot. The fact everyone laughs at how adorably oddly he is laying there might be a stronger motivator for that!
#Silver would fully manage to put his body in full 180 degree rotations and come out without a single bit of muscle pain#helps that he is a hedgehog and quite flexible from all his jumping and running around as well#but Espio gets caught by surprise with a new‚ even more painful-looking stretchy pose every single Floor Time#silver the hedgehog#espio the chameleon#espilver#Silver would have the exact same “What About It” stare as your cat does in the picture‚ I'm sure!
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From Hell to Home to Back Again
Summary: At the talent show, Chrissy Cunningham is so hungry that she nearly collapses. When she's found by Hopper, her parents ended up losing custody of her. She ends up being placed in the care of the Hendersons, and she finally finds the family she so desperately needed. She also ends up falling in love. What other changes are made in this alternate universe?
@emen-98 @1lostsoul0fishbowl @vulpixsworld
Prologue . . . Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
"The week is long. The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west," Chrissy, Robin, Ronnie, Dustin, Steve and Eddie read together.
They had finally gotten the message translated. It was long after closing, and all the customers had left. They were the only ones left in Scoops Ahoy and in the mall. Chrissy still felt that sense of fear that something was wrong with Heather. It lingered in the back of her mind no matter how many times she reassured herself. She promised herself to call the Holloways when she got home. Hopefully it was nothing.
"It just can't be right," Steve said as he closed Scoops Ahoy.
"It's right," Robin replied.
"I think it's great news," Dustin said.
"How is this great news? So much for being American heroes?" Steve asked. "It's nonsense."
"You guys want to be American heroes?" Chrissy asked in amusement.
"It certainly would change people's perspectives of us," Eddie said and sighed. "As much as I try not to care about that. . ."
Chrissy and Eddie's hands swung together as they walked through the empty mall. Since no one else was here, Robin and Ronnie were doing the same. It was strange being in the mall alone at night. It made the hairs on Chrissy's neck stand up.
"It's not nonsense. It's very specific. It's obviously a code," Dustin said.
"What do you mean a code?" Steve asked.
"Like a super secret spy code," Dustin exclaimed.
"That's a total stretch," Steve said.
"I don't know, is it?" Robin asked. "I mean, after all that we have been through? With, you know, Higgins selling drugs to kids, Billy putting Chrissy in the hospital. . .Eddie's house blowing up because his father got him involved in a drug heist. . .and other things. . .okay, so let's say this is a secret Russian transmission, what do you think they're going to say? Blow the warheads at noon?"
"Yeah, okay, so you have a point," Steve frowned.
"She usually does," Ronnie said and then frowned. "I'm just going to ignore the other things that you won't tell me about. I trust you, I guess."
Robin looked guiltily at her and then shared a look with Chrissy. She looked back with sympathy, knowing how much you wanted to talk with your partner about these things but also knowing you couldn't. Robin quickly changed the subject back to the secret message, discussing with Dustin what it might mean. Meanwhile, Ronnie stared at her suspiciously. Chrissy had been watching them so closely that she didn't even notice that Steve had fallen behind. They found him putting quarters into a little horsey ride for kids. He fumbled with his change and cursed as it spilled all over the floor.
"Hey! I need a quarter," Steve said.
"Are you sure you're tall enough for that ride?" Robin asked and Eddie snorted with laughter.
"QUARTER!" Steve yelled urgently and Robin tossed him one.
They all watched him as he put the quarter in to start the machine.
"Need help getting up, little Stevie?" Robin asked, and Dustin laughed.
"Would you two just shut up and listen?" Steve asked as he pointed at the Indiana Flyer.
"Holy shit," Dustin realized. "The music. . .the music!"
"It was on the tape!" Chrissy gasped.
"Shit, nice catch, Stevie," Eddie said and clapped him on the shoulders.
"I don't understand," Robin said.
"It's the exact same song on the recording," Dustin told her.
"Maybe they have these in Russia," Robin said.
"An Indiana Flyer? I don't think so," Steve said.
"This code. It didn't come from Russia. It came from here," Steve said.
They all stared at the rocking horse in shock. Russians in Hawkins? No fucking way. Chrissy shared a look with Eddie. Well, there was another world under Hawkins. . .why not Russians, too?
"No way, that's insane. Russians in Hawkins, you've got to be shitting me," Ronnie said. "What would they be doing here? This is a joke, right?"
"Oh, yeah. Total joke. Got you!" Robin chuckled weakly.
"Okay, babe, you're a terrible liar," Ronnie said. "What the fuck is going on? What aren't you telling me?"
"What? I'm not - I am telling you the truth!" Robin exclaimed.
"I don't think any of you have been telling me the truth since Chrissy was put into the hospital," Ronnie sighed. "But whatever, if you don't want to tell me what's going on. Fine."
Ronnie walked off, far ahead of them. Robin watched her, looking sadly at her retreating form.
"She's not going to let this one go, is she?" Robin asked.
"She's Ronnie Ecker. Of course she isn't," Eddie said. "I hate lying to her, too."
Eddie put his arm around Robin and hugged her tightly. Steve moved to her side.
"Hey, if Nancy and I can get through this, then so can you and Ronnie," Steve said. "She's just mad because she cares about you, about all of us."
That night, they all went home with their thoughts running wild. Chrissy went to the phone and immediately called the Holloways.
"Hi, Mrs. Holloway," Chrissy greeted cheerfully.
She never really had a problem with her, but her husband, on the other hand. . .he was a real meathead. She knew Heather hated how much her mother drank, though, because of him.
"Oh, hello, Chrissy, how are you?" She greeted politely.
"Oh, I'm good, Mrs. Holloway," Chrissy said. "How are you?"
"Well, some days are better than others but I'm getting by," she said.
"That's good. . .well, I was calling to check on Heather to see how working at the pool went," Chrissy said.
"Oh, she absolutely loved it until that awful Billy fellow started working there. I know how much he bothers her. You're such a good friend for checking on her," Mrs. Holloway said. "Heather isn't here right now. She's spending the night at Tina's, I think. Hopefully, my baby will be a good influence on that girl."
Chrissy rolled her eyes. If only she knew. . .which she didn't. Heather's mother was usually too deep in her own problems to notice what was going on with her daughter. She didn't even know Heather was a lesbian or that she and Chrissy used to date. After talking with her for a while, Chrissy was finally released from the conversation and hung up the phone. She went to her room and plopped on her bed, feeling a sense of relief. Heather was with Tina. So. . .why did she still feel so worried? Chrissy rolled over and hugged Peggy to her chest, letting Eddie inside her head. She drifted off to sleep with Eddie's presence washing over her.
The next day, Chrissy was dragged to Scoops Ahoy by her very annoying brother. Robin was leaning against the counter with headphones over her ears as she looked over the translation again. Meanwhile, Steve was busy trying to cover for her. The last customer walked away, and the Hendersons took their place at the counter.
"Ready to scout the area for any. . .enemies?" Dustin asked cheerfully.
"Yeah, just hold on," Steve said as he took off his hat and apron.
"Oh, hey, I didn't ask. . .how's Nancy doing at the Newspaper?" Dustin asked.
"Oh, well, she actually has an investigation of her own going on. Something about the rats going crazy and eating fertilizer. . .I don't know what that's about, but Nancy's determined to crack the case even if those stupid misogynistic assholes at the paper try to stop her," Steve replied.
"Well, I'm sure Nancy will show them," Dustin said.
"Yeah, she's great like that," Steve said smiling fondly.
"STEVIE! DUSTY!" they heard a voice yell.
Eddie skidded into the ice cream parlor with a pair of binoculars around his neck. Breathing heavily, he stood in front of Dustin and Steve. He was wearing his cutoff shorts again and a stolen polo of Steve’s. He had torn off the sleeves as well. Eddie was wearing a bright pink scrunchy of Chrissy's in his hair. It wasn't that strange. They had all stolen each other's clothes from everyone amongst their friend group. Gareth had stolen a couple of pieces from Jeff and Eddie. One of them was a red flannel that he cut the sleeves off. Robin either stole from Tina or from Ronnie or Steve. Nancy, Chrissy, and Heather usually swap amongst each other. Robin always joked that no one would be able to tell if anyone was cheating. It was just something that they did.
"Jesus, I don't think the entire mall heard you, Eds," Steve said sarcastically. "Might want to yell a little louder."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. . .Reporting for duty, captain," Eddie said, and Chrissy cleared her throat. "Oh, hey, Chrissy. . .what are my orders?"
"And he greeted me like I wasn't his fucking girlfriend," Chrissy pouted.
"Oh, shit, no! Hi, my love!" Eddie exclaimed. "I swear I'm just excited about the quest."
"I'm really worried that you really are going to leave me for Steve," Chrissy said.
"What?! No, I love you!" Eddie yelped. "Baby, listen. . ."
Eddie pressed his forehead against hers, and she smiled as she felt his love for her pour through their connection. Chrissy sighed happily.
"I love you, too," She said and paused. "Okay, I've decided. You can go play your little spy game with Dustin and Steve."
"Yes!" Eddie exclaimed and kissed her deeply, pouring everything he had into the kiss.
Chrissy watched him fondly as he took off with her brother and Steve as they went to look for evil Russians. Ronnie had entered just as they had exited.
"Do I want to know?" Ronnie asked.
"No," Ronnie and Chrissy said.
"I came here with him, but the asshole took off when we came through the door," Ronnie said. "I figured he was excited to see you, Chrissy."
"At the end of the day, he'll come running to me when he tires himself out," Chrissy giggled and stepped aside to let Ronnie approach the counter.
"Are we okay?" Robin asked Ronnie.
"I thought a lot about it last night, and I can't force you to tell me if you're not ready to. It's just frustrating not knowing what's going on with the people I love," she said.
"I'm sorry, I wish I could tell you," Robin said softly.
"Well, that makes me feel a little better," Ronnie said. "I love you."
"I love you too," she said. "Does it make you feel even better to know that I wish I could kiss you?"
"It does. . .you still working on that message?" Ronnie asked.
"Yeah."
"Let me help."
" . . . A trip to China sounds nice if you tread lightly," Robin read the other part of the message to her.
Ronnie leaned against the counter, frowning thoughtfully. Yeah, Chrissy couldn't figure it out either. Before Ronnie could open her mouth, Erica Sinclair marched her and her friends into the parlor to take advantage of their company policy. Ronnie and Chrissy moved back to let Robin deal with her. Once that was done, they went back to it until a delivery guy dropped off a package for Scoops Ahoy, and that's when Robin connected the dots. The message was talking about the stores in the mall. It was a time and place for them to meet or to drop something off. Chrissy and Ronnie had stared at her like she was crazy as she stood up tall in the middle of the mall. Although, Ronnie looked at her more appreciatively. They had run into the guys on the way out, and they had followed after them.
"I cracked it," Robin said. "I cracked the code."
It was how they later ended up looking down at the back end of Starcourt wearing raincoats late at night as the rain came pouring down on them.
"The things I do for you," Ronnie muttered, and Chrissy giggled.
"There's your Russians," Robin said.
"What do you think in there?" Steve asked, talking about the boxes they were moving.
"Guns? Bombs?" Dustin asked.
"Chemical weapons," Robin said.
"Dragons," Eddie said, and they all looked at him. "What? Like that idea is totally out of the realm of possibility?"
"Well, whatever it is, they're armed to the teeth," Dustin said as he looked through Eddie's binoculars.
"Great, that's great," Steve said.
They watched as the Russians down below opened a set of double doors to put boxes inside a room.
"It's just more boxes," Dustin said.
Of course, Steve and Dustin had to fight over the binoculars. Their tussle ended up causing a ruckus and alerted the armed guards. They all quickly ducked for cover, and Chrissy squeezed Eddie's hand with hers. She noticed Robin, Ronnie, and Steve doing the same. They managed to make their way safely back inside and out of the rain.
"Well, I think we found your Russians," Robin told Steve.
"Holy shit! Russians really have invaded Hawkins. . .what the fuck?!" Ronnie exclaimed. "I mean, why would they come here of all places? What's so special about Hawkins?"
Chrissy shared an uneasy look with her brother, Eddie, Robin, and Steve. Ronnie definitely didn't miss the way the way they all tensed up, and she let out a frustrated yell.
"Still excited about your quest?" Chrissy asked Eddie.
"Not so much," Eddie said. "The minute I saw the guns. . ."
They all waited inside the ice cream parlor for the rain to let up, and then they all escaped the mall. Eddie offered to drive Dustin and Chrissy home, squeezing in the back of his van with their bikes. He dropped a quiet Ronnie off at her house, wincing as she slammed the door. Chrissy crawled into her spot.
"I hate when she's mad at me," Eddie nodded.
"She'll understand," Chrissy said softly.
"Is it really that much safer if she's left I'm the dark?" Eddie asked.
"We have no choice, Eddie, we all signed NDAs," Dustin spoke up.
"Yeah, I know," Eddie replied. "I just put her through hell before with lying to her and everything about what happened with my dad."
"Yeah, you put Chrissy through hell, too," Dustin said, narrowing his eyes at him. "Don't think that I forgot about that. Any, you can NOT tell because they'll cart all of us off to jail or juvie or foster care. Hell, maybe they'll kill all of us and cover it up. Whatever they do, I'd rather we keep our family together."
"Dustin!" Chrissy exclaimed.
"What? It's the truth!" He yelled.
"You could be a little more sensitive about it," Chrissy said.
"I don't know how anyone can soften the blow for that," he replied.
"By the way, I think you're being a little hypocritical for someone who ended up being the one that let it slip about all of this," Eddie said.
"That's exactly why I'm saying this, Eddie! I did all that to impress a girl! I brought something dangerous into the house! It killed Mews, but it could have killed Chrissy or our mom or you! Bringing you into all of this, it's my fault. I can't stop you from following me and making sure I'm safe and we have no other choice but to stop these bastards from coming into our home! We have to cause as little damage as possible, and we can't worry about NDAs or worry about more people getting involved when they shouldn't!" Dustin yelled.
It got quiet in the van, and a moment later, they heard Dustin sniffling. Eddie stopped the van and turned around.
"I'm sorry, shrimp," Eddie said.
"I'm just tired," Dustin said softly as he rubbed his eyes. "I just don't want anything to happen to anyone, but I also want all the shit that we've been through to mean something."
Eddie leaned over to wrap his arms around Dustin, hugging him tightly.
"You've got the biggest heart of anyone that I have ever met," Eddie said. "Never change, Dustin Henderson."
"I won't," he said and sobbed into Eddie's shoulder.
"You don't have to carry this crap alone either," he said. "Okay?"
"Okay."
"We're going to get through this together," he said.
Chrissy watched them fondly and let them have their moment before wrapping her arms around both of them. After all the tears were shed, Eddie pulled away and started the van back up. When they pulled up in front of their house, Chrissy turned to her brother.
"Why don't you go in? I'll be there in a few minutes," Chrissy asked.
"Why? What are you going to do to Eddie?" Dustin asked.
"Do you really want to know?" Chrissy asked and Eddie snorted.
Dustin huffed, pulled the door open, and slammed it before storming into the house.
"I love you," Chrissy said softly to Eddie.
"I love you, too," he replied and paused. "You know that I don't want anything to happen to Ronnie either."
"I know that," Chrissy said. "And Dustin does too."
"Do you think the reason that the Russians are here is because of the Upside Down?" Eddie asked.
"I can't think of any other reason they'd be here," Chrissy said.
"Yeah," Eddie said. "Fuck!"
"I'm tired of this shit, too, Eddie," Chrissy sighed.
The wall that they had put up earlier was still there, and Chrissy could feel it now more than ever. She hugged him but they didn't kiss goodbye and as she walked to the front door, she couldn't help but wonder why she didn't kiss him. Maybe she was just too tired. When Chrissy entered the house, she found their mother fussing over Dustin and his wet clothes. Claudia had immediately turned on her as well. After drinking hot chocolate and watching some TV with their mother, they went off to bed. Dustin had nodded off on the couch and nearly spilled his hot chocolate. Chrissy crawled into bed and curled up with Peggy Munson. Thoughts of Russians, Eddie, and Heather filled her head. It was too late to call Nancy and talk about it all with her, Chrissy thought as she drifted off to sleep. Shit! Steve said something about Nancy investigating rats, and she had been dreaming about rats. Chrissy fell asleep before she could question it further.
Chrissy was falling, and she was falling fast. She was in the void, and she could hear someone calling her name.
"Chrissy?!"
"Heather?!"
She appeared before Chrissy, looking gaunt and scared, tears running down her face.
"I just wanted to help. I know he hurt you, and even though he did that, I couldn't help but reach out to him. . .but there's something wrong with him, Chrissy. There's something wrong with Billy, and I don't know where he brought me. I don't know where I am," Heather sobbed.
"Heather, what happened?" Chrissy asked.
"He attacked me, and there was this monster. . . ," she cried.
"What monster?" Chrissy asked.
Suddenly, the void and Heather disappeared. Chrissy was standing in an old abandoned house.
"Chrissy. . .she does NOT matter to you," a voice in the darkness called out to her. "She's unimportant, unlike me. . .you shall soon discover. . .where your heart truly belongs. . ."
A dark figure came rushing out at her, and vines wrapped around her body. Chrissy screamed. Darkness overcame her.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
#stranger things#chrissy cunningham#chrissy cunningham lives#chrissy this is for you#eddie munson#eddie stranger things#eddie munson lives#chrissy cunningham x eddie munson#chrissy x eddie#eddissy#hellcheer#dustin henderson#henderfam#nancy wheeler#steve harrington#jonathan byers#stranger things argyle#robin buckley#with a side of#stancy#jargyle#platonic stobin#platonic ronance#platonic buckingham#stranger things au#stranger things fanfiction
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Sunlit memories (Garou x reader)
tags: slight mentions of blood, no warnings really
words: 1.3k
notes: hi lol finally dropped the second chapter of the fic, feel free to tell me your thoughts again it means the world 💕
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Chapter two
It had already been a week since that odd encounter with the mysterious guy, nonetheless you didn’t think much of it. The days weren’t as scorching as before, tempting you to go to the park to sketch even more. On one of your strolls you’ve noticed a cat lazing around your building and much to your glee it let you pet it almost every time it passed by. Despite occasionally having some work on your hands you even managed to clear away those 2 month-old boxes from when you first moved into your new apartment, finally tempted to call over a friend or two so they could see what you did with the place. At last you were getting used to the city and routines.
Well, at least that’s how you wanted it to be.
In reality the past week has been intriguing as it was chaotic. Monsters have been popping up and wreaking havoc even more fluently than before, making you question was moving here a mistake. Your daily strolls in that peaceful park reduced greatly with so much unease in the air. Even passing by one of the cafés wasn’t as soothing as before, since instead of music you only heard the citizens’ nervous chatter and rumors, most prominently about some “nutcase that hunts heroes for a hobby”. At this point walking home alone even after a relaxing day seemed straight up spine-chilling. To top it off “that dude” from before coincidentally just happened to cross paths with you almost every day, and you weren’t sure was it plain hilarious or just ridiculously awkward.
Be it at that same, now mostly deserted park from before, catching him speaking to some kid with a book in hand, or just in the passageway of one of the many alleys in the city, your curiosity grew even more. And the fact his occasional bruised, even bloody form caught your eyes more than once didn’t help. Even so, you’d always give a small wave, which he would (awkwardly) return. Truth be told, you were keen on actually starting a normal conversation with the man whose name still remained unknown. Why not? He doesn’t seem ill-mannered despite all the mystery surrounding him, too bad your plan to befriend often got spoiled by the fact he always seemed so preoccupied with something.
And here you are, waiting for the coffee machine at the nearest mini-market to deliver your drink while trying desperately not to glance over to that same man picking out what bag of chips to steal. (And yes, you bore witness to that before as well.)
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you sighed internally, keeping your eyes on the drink in-the-making.
Oddly enough, this actually seemed like a good opportunity to say hello. The machine finally finished its work, allowing you to take a good whiff of the delightful hot drink in your hands before taking a long waited sip.
“Eh, isn’t as good as when I make it but this’ll do.”
After glancing at him one more time, you mustered up the courage to walk in his direction. Though, as soon as you turned around someone else bumped into you, almost spilling your drink. A hero, to be exact. A tall man with black markings on his eye matching with his onyx hair, beside him three more who you couldn’t identify; one practically naked, the only clothing on him being a thong, heels and butterfly wings, one with light blond hair decorated with a peach headband and the last one wearing a dark expensive-looking suit with avocado patterns. Definitely didn’t see that one before.
The tall one was quick to apologize, to which you only gave a small, reassuring smile. Trailing your eyes to the other three, you noticed their stern, focused expressions, giving you the impression they didn’t come here for some junk food and sweets.
“Wonder what they’re up to,” you pondered after taking your eyes off them.
“Well, doesn’t matter to me anyways.”
After taking a small circle around the isle in front of you, the silver-haired teen was at long last close enough to converse with. Despite being right next to him, much to your surprise he didn’t bat an eyelid after you gave your signature wave.
“Um, I’m sure you already saw me when you came in but still-” you continued with a nervous smile“-I felt like I just had to say hi.”
And again you were greeted with more silence before he finally took the chips and turned the other way.
“Ah, sure. See ya then.”
“Yo, what?”
Was this some kind of a joke? Even that one haughty girl you remember you disliked in middle school wouldn’t give a response so numbingly dry.
Before you managed to ask any more questions, the man glanced over at your direction for a brief moment.
“Quit talking, they’re gonna think we’re friends or something.”
Standing there with a deadpan expression, drink still in hand you watched as he nonchalantly exited the store without the clerk noticing that unpaid bag of chips. At this point you regret even thinking about befriending him.
“So much for socializing,” you rolled your eyes and took another sip.
“Might just get a bag of chips myself. And pay for it.”
Sunlight shone from the store’s humble display window onto the handful of isles, making it look like a scene from some nostalgic 90s movie. Lost in thoughts, you stared at your sunlit reflection on one of the glass panes. The radio played one of your favorite songs, making you wish to stay in that comfy mini-market just a minute or two longer. Well, if only you didn’t turn around to see a bald man with a ridiculous-looking outfit and a horror-struck face trying to bargain the clerk to accept his expired coupons.
“Yeah, let’s just get out of this store already.”
Despite all the eccentric behavior you bore witness to today, one thing was still faintly clinging on to your mind as you walked down the almost empty street. Still somewhat irritated from that remark earlier, you’ve began to wonder what was that about in the long run, but on second thought you didn’t feel like getting any more annoyed.
You let out a small sigh before glancing at your phone. Looking ahead, now you were somewhat tempted to take a few good pictures of the sunlight reflecting on the eerie looking district about a hundred meters away. It was a ghost town filled with ghastly rumors, even so still incredibly intriguing.
“Huh, I wonder does anyone live there?”
However the instant those thoughts came to mind, your attention was drawn over to the alley on your left with its ruckus. You could’ve sworn to have heard some men shouting, yet before you even thought of retreating the other way you had already caught a glimpse of the commotion.
Two men lay sprawled out on the concrete, that half-naked hero and the one with the peach headband, both with a battered face. And if that sight didn’t stop you in your tracks, the familiar man behind the other two standing heroes from the store did.
That same silver-haired teen smirked at the two men equally battered as the ones unconscious on the floor. In spite of the blood trickling down his bruised fists, he kept an unshakeable stance. To say you couldn’t believe what you were seeing was an understatement. Just who the hell is this guy and what was he doing?
Just as he was seemingly about to make a remark towards the two heroes your presence caught him by surprise, which the two used slyly for an attack.
One made what seemed like a small smokescreen and afterwards all that was heard was the sound of the old parts of the building’s walls crumbling down. For a moment you were unsure whether to call someone to help or just back away from the scene altogether, not that it mattered since all you heard was a loud shout before black clouds overcame your vision.
#garou#garou x reader#opm#one punch man#opm x reader#garou x y/n#garo#one punch man x reader#one punch man one shot#opm fanfic
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@spnprideweek day one: flags
This little ficlet for #spnprideweek is brought to you by my big, non-binary bisexual love for this beautiful fandom, and my desire to fix that moment in 'Baby' when Cas indulges Dean by saying "werepire", but Dean doesn't hear him and Cas doesn't know. It ended up getting a bit long, so there's more under the cut or over on AO3. Thanks!
Dean's at Pride, and feeling a rising level of discomfort.
It's not the fact that he's wearing eyeliner in public for the first time in his forty-two years. Hell, he'd been wanting to do that ever since he was a kid, dreaming of being a rock star. The covers of music magazines in gas station racks had been windows on a world free from the brutally narrow definition of what his Dad meant when he told him to "be a man". Gradually, though, he'd learned what is gloriously apparent today under the hot June sun: that there are as many ways of being a man as there are men.
It's not because the sleeveless white t-shirt he's wearing is somewhat snug. (The heat had made him shed his pink, purple and blue plaid shirt - the one he'd worn today because Claire always called it his 'bi flannel' - and tie it around his waist.) He and Cas are both wearing a little of their contentment on their waistlines these days, and he believes Cas when he says that he adores his body because he means it when he says the same to Cas.
It's not the big, heart-shaped sticker slapped on his chest, which is striped in the colours of the bisexual pride flag in a way that's much less subtle than the flannel. Dean's always known that he wasn't only into chicks, but putting a name to it is new. Dean's had jobs and Dean's had roles, but having an identity had always seemed like a luxury well beyond Dean's means. Now he's not constantly running for his life, though, he has the breathing room to figure himself out. And he's good with this part of himself. More than good.
It's not the two flags that are padding the pockets of his jeans. One, he'd bought for Cas: it's striped in pale pink, pale blue and white. Earlier, he'd gone with Cas when he'd met up with some friends he'd met online (having managed to get past all the cats this time). The ex-angel had found that discussing their experiences of being trans had helped him feel happy in the body that had become his own. Dean could only feel immense gratitude for the way Cas' face had lit up afterwards when he'd talked about how he was creating himself, becoming himself, and embracing the human condition of change.
Dean hopes that the gift of the trans pride flag will show Cas that Dean understands and loves him, and the same is true for the other flag, which he'd picked up for Jack. It's yellow, white, purple and black. Dean had had to do a little research when Jack had used the term non-binary - it's amazing how the world can move on while you're living in an underground bunker. He'd kept on researching, too, after he'd learned the basics. Maybe he was still figuring himself out. Maybe there was more to discover about himself, and wasn't that fantastic?
Jack is wandering around somewhere with Claire and Kaia. Jody and Donna are here, too, with Alex and Patience. Adam and Michael have probably partied their way through fifty international pride parades by now, but they should be meeting up with everyone else later. Sam and Eileen are not far away. Eileen was the one who's slapped the bi pride sticker on Dean's chest - with unnecessary force, if you asked Dean. She'd grinned at him, showed off the identical sticker on her own chest, and said, with a suitably cheesy wink, "we need to stick together". He remembered the moment he'd nervously asked her the sign for 'bisexual', and when she'd shown him - the letter signs for 'b' and 'i' - she'd added, "me too," and Dean had scooped her up into a crushing hug.His love for his family is endless, and them all being here is definitely not why he's uncomfortable.
And it's not the body glitter freckling his cheeks and his shoulders with gold, although his feelings might change by the time he tries to remove it tonight. He'd been gilded with it when he'd been dancing up a storm with a group of drag queens. They'd admired his eyeliner - a deep brown shot through with gold along his upper lashes - but winked and said it was "a little subtle for Pride". As soon as Dean had seen the tube of glitter, he'd yelled "hell yes!" and even managed to hold still long enough to be coated in the stuff before moving his body to the beat again. Although he's sure his feet will be aching later, so far his favourite cowboy boots are not the source of his discomfort.
It's not the bright pink feather boa, either, which he'd acquired from the same source as the glitter, when he'd been sent off with a kiss to the cheek and the words "be bold, honey!" He'd expected the boa to tickle or irritate, but for some bizarre reason the sensation of feathers around his shoulders and the back of his neck feels incredibly comforting and reassuring. He feels warm and safe and oh. Oh.
As that particular realisation sweeps over him, Dean tightens his hold on Cas. He's standing behind him with his right hand on Cas' hip, and his left arm is up over his shoulder and wrapped around his chest. His hand is splayed out, at once putting his silver wedding band on display and somehow attempting to conceal Cas from the eyes of his many admirers (and, well, good luck with that. Cas is incredibly beefy these days).
Which brings us to the source of Dean's discomfort; to the thing that's deepening the furrow in his brow and the dimples beside his pursed lips: namely, the sheer number of guys hitting on Cas.
It's not like Dean can blame them. Cas' muscular frame is wrapped in black jeans and a tight black t-shirt bearing the Led Zeppelin 1975 tour logo. The short sleeves show off the floral tattoos trailing down his left arm. Cas is wearing a rainbow-coloured enamel belt buckle and, because he's determined to be the death of Dean, black cowboy boots. Before they'd left, Dean hadn't been able to resist grabbing a black kohl pencil and smudging a little along Cas' upper and lower lashes. And, okay, maybe Cas' wide-eyed bewilderment every time he's flirted with is vaguely amusing. But when Dean is right here? Not cool.
Right on cue, here's another one. From over his husband's shoulder, Dean levels his very best glare at the guy. It's a look that can stop a demon dead in its tracks. A vampire would tremble. A werewolf would wet itself. But one young gay guy with a few drinks in him? Totally unaffected. Like the others, he's all smiles and understanding when Cas politely, if awkwardly, waves him away. (Literally. With a final dorky little wave goodbye.)
Dean realises that he's moved his right arm around Cas' waist, so now Dean is wrapped around Cas like some kind of koala/octopus hybrid. An octoala? A koctopus? Definitely koctopus. Heh.
Dean snorts at the thought, which is somewhat unfortunate, given that his face is right next to Cas' ear. Cas flinches and turns his head around to fix him in a squinty glare.
"Koctopus?" Dean says, apologetically.
Cas narrows his eyes further and tilts his head to the side.
"Um, the way I was wrapped around you. I was like a cross between a koala and an octopus."
Dean nudges Cas. "So what does that make me? C'mon, you know you wanna say it."
Cas just tilts his head a bit further to the side, either in confusion or outright despair. Dean has untangled himself from Cas and stepped back, and looks down at the ground, suddenly self-conscious.
Dean feels Cas' hand on his shoulder, and then it smooths over his back, finding the back of his neck underneath the boa. Whatever his shape, Cas' touch has the exact same effect on Dean. He looks up into the impossibly blue eyes of his husband.
"You're a very glittery," Cas begins, softly, "and very beautiful," one corner of his mouth lifts, and then he purses his lips together, trying to hold back the smile, "koctopus."
The corners of his eyes are crinkled. He's not amused by the joke, Dean knows, just absurdly pleased to be saying something he knows will make Dean happy. Of course Dean knows that Cas loves him, knows the whole cosmic-realm-crossing magnitude of it, but in little moments like this, he's floored by it. Dean can't help his sudden exhale or the massive grin that breaks across his face. He wraps his husband up in hug that they hold for a good long moment, before Dean leans back to kiss Cas.
No one had ever explained to Dean how difficult it is to kiss someone when you can't stop smiling. He'd never had that problem before Cas, but now it's practically a daily occurrence. It's a menace because kissing Cas is one of Dean's favourite pastimes. Now, they trade little pecks between wide, toothy grins, until passion takes over and the kisses become heavier.
It takes someone wolf-whistling for them to part, and then they're back to grinning and staring into each others' eyes, until Dean spots something on Cas' face. And something else. And something else. In fact, there's something all over Cas, and that something is gold glitter. It's on his face, his hands, his Zeppelin shirt, and even in his hair. Dean runs his fingers through the unruly curls - Cas has been wearing his hair longer lately - in an attempt to shake it out, but only deposits more glitter into Cas' locks.
"Oops," Dean says, "I kinda glitter bombed you there. It's all over your shirt, too. Sorry, Sunshine."
He doesn't sound terribly sorry.
"This is your shirt, Dean."
"Aw, man."
He does sound a little sorry now, but his future laundry woes are forgotten when Cas presses another kiss to his pouting lips. They're forgotten again when something across the crowd catches Dean's eye.
"Oooh," Dean exclaims as he drags Cas towards the stall he's spotted.
It's selling cowboy hats in every configuration of colour imaginable, and Dean is practically jumping on the spot excitement. Cas looks his husband up and down, slowly.
"You think your outfit's lacking accessories?" he deadpans.
"Yup," is Dean's gleeful reply, "and so's yours."
Cas' groan is lost to the noise of the crowd and the beat of the music, so no-one will ever know if it was one of protest or defeat. He does, in fact, end up wearing a black cowboy hat with a rainbow band, so if it was protest then it was highly ineffective. Dean's has a pink crown, purple band and blue brim, and he's carrying another black one with a band in the non-binary flag colours for Jack. Cas admits that Jack's going to love it.
"Damn, this is awesome," Dean says as they head back to meet up with the rest of their family.
Walking hand in hand with Cas, Dean's thoughts wander. Dean could kick his younger self for every time he'd called someone gay or a girl as a way of saying they were weak. Because all he can see in the people around him is strength. He grins again, giddy with the atmosphere of defiant joy. All around him is everything he'd spent his life fighting to protect: freedom, family, and love. Holding his husband's hand a little tighter, he's grateful that in the end he gets to have both: freedom and peace.
#sorry to be late posting this - I was poorly but then I'm also naturally blessed with the writing speed of a sloth#thank you so much for hosting this event#spnprideweek#spn#supernatural#destiel#dean winchester#castiel#dean is bi#trans castiel#non-binary Jack Kline#my fic#happy pride 🌈
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Lev pretending to be innocent in front of the reader but is actually her stalker with those cat eyes. He asks help from her and they gradually get closer until he gets her all alone in her apartment under his care
Absolutely! Lev is prime stalker material 👀 poor reader
Lev Haiba x Reader
TW stalking, manipulation
Harmless
“Don’t you think he’s just a little… I don’t know, creepy?” your best friend murmurs in a pointed tone, stirring the sugar into her coffee.
You bite back a sigh - it’s a conversation you’ve had countless times before and it always ends the same way. You defend Lev, chastise your friend for her paranoia and distrustful nature and eventually she relents with an unconvincing ‘if you say so’.
“He’s harmless, honestly - Lev wouldn’t hurt a fly and he’s actually very sweet once you get to know him. I don’t know why you’re so against him. He’s a good friend.”
She huffs, taking a slow sip of her drink before she replies. “Well for one, he’s like an overgrown shadow. I swear, every time we’re out together we always seem to just magically run into him, all big and looming, and he’s always staring at you like he wants to gobble you up - just you by the way, he outright ignores the rest of us peasants - it’s like he’s obsessed with you or something, and-”
She keeps talking, but honestly you kind of zone out a little bit. You can’t judge her too harshly. She’s always been protective of you, ever since you guys were kids, you suppose it’s only natural for her to be wary of Lev.
And she’s not wrong per se. You do have the strangest habit of running into Lev around town, but it’s how you met, after all - quite literally running into the 6’5” giant as you were exiting the exact same coffee shop you were currently sitting in.
Spilling your piping hot coffee all over somebody else’s sweater doesn’t usually have the makings of a burgeoning friendship but Lev had been so sweet about the whole thing, blushing and bowing, shooting apology after apology (despite the fact that it was mostly your fault) that you couldn’t help but offer to buy his drink in compensation for ruining his morning - and more importantly his clothes.
Lev, grinning brightly, had agreed with a single condition - that you joined him. And really, after pouring hot coffee all over him, it was the least you could do.
“Hey, are you even paying attention to me?!”
You jerk a little, shaking yourself out of your reverie to find your friend glaring at you. It lacks any real heat though, and she just rolls her eyes and gives a long suffering sigh. “I’m worried about you, Y/N. Didn’t you say that some of your stuff has been going missing lately?”
An old picture of you and some friends on vacation, a necklace you used to wear religiously and you could swear that you’re missing one of your favourite bras and some panties, but… sometimes stuff like that just gets misplaced - it’s not like you’re exactly the tidiest person around.
Still, you can’t help the way that your brows furrow at her implication, “I said I misplaced some things. Are you honestly suggesting that Lev broke into my apartment to steal that stuff?” you ask with a snicker. The very idea of the silver haired giant sneaking around your tiny apartment is ridiculous!
Your friend’s pointed silence speaks volumes.
“Oh, come on! He’s just a friend - a little excitable maybe,” and very affectionate, always swallowing you up in tight hugs, fingers constantly seeking out yours - but somehow you don’t think that part will help your case, “but he’s just a big softie.”
She scoffs, folding her arms over her chest. She doesn’t speak for a long moment, but when she does, she reaches across the table to grab your hand in hers, squeezing it lightly. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m being a jealous, judgemental bitch because I don’t like the idea of anyone else coming to steal you away from me,” she smiles self deprecatingly, but there’s an real edge of worry in her eyes that makes your stomach twist, “but you’re the most important thing to me. I don’t want you getting hurt, and I get bad vibes from that guy.”
You open your mouth to retort, but she just shakes her head, “Just… just promise me you’ll be careful around him, alright?”
Wordlessly, you nod.
As much as you try and dismiss her concerns, as days pass you begin to wonder if maybe she isn’t wrong.
Not about Lev of course - he might be a little over exuberant but you know he doesn’t mean any harm by it - but you think, well… you’re starting to think that maybe somebody’s following you.
At first it’s just the tickling sensation on the back of your neck. When you run to the corner store on your lunch break to pick up a snack for the afternoon a shiver runs down your spine as you get the strangest feeling that somebody’s staring at you - you can feel the weight of their gaze burning into your back, but whenever you turn there’s nobody there.
There’s never anybody there.
But… didn’t you shut the door to your closet before you left for work that morning? You could have sworn that the window to your second storey bedroom was locked.
It comes to a head one night after work. You leave later than you normally would, having lost track of time trying to get some last minute emails off and by the time you actually get out the door it’s already dark outside and it’s pouring down with rain.
You’re halfway home when you get that prickling feeling on your skin, and your gut tightens uncomfortably. Tentatively you slow, shooting a furtive glance over your shoulder. The streets of the city are normally busy at this time of the night, but the rain’s driven people away - there’s not a soul in sight, including any wannabe stalkers.
The tight grip on your heart eases and you force yourself to relax. You’re imagining things now, you think with a shake of your head and a breathless laugh.
Nobody’s out to get you, you’re fine.
Except the prickling sensation on the back of your neck doesn’t go away, and with every step you take the discomfort in your gut becomes harder and harder to ignore. Fingers flit anxiously at your side, your grip tightening on the handle of your umbrella. The rain’s loud as it crashes around you, but as you turn down the music coming from your headphones you swear that you can hear heavy footfalls behind you.
All it would take is another quick glance to confirm your suspicions. It could just be another person out in the rain trying to make their way home, same as you. It could be all your head, paranoia brought about by your friend’s worries. But fear has clawed its way up your spine - it’s late and you’re tired and scared, rational thought has left the building and you don’t think about any of that before dropping your umbrella and taking off into a sprint.
You don’t look back.
You don’t stop until you're back in the safety of your apartment with the door locked, blinds shut and the deadbolt in place.
You’re still trembling twenty minutes later when there’s a knock at your front door.
Your heart leaps into your throat at the sound, your entire body tensing, and for a single moment you debate not answering the door, but… you let out a sigh, shaking your head. You’re being ridiculous.
A quick glance through the peephole sets your heart at ease. Standing in the hallway dressed in a slightly damp black overcoat, his silvery-grey hair dusted with rain, is Lev.
Relief floods through you as you quickly work at the locks, flicking open the deadbolt.
“Hey, Lev,” you murmur somewhat sheepishly, stepping back to let him come inside.
His green, catlike eyes light up at the sight of you, and he doesn’t waste a moment before leaning down and enveloping you in a tight hug - never mind his wet coat. You let yourself relax into the embrace - the comforting warmth as he wraps himself around you and strokes your back. “Y/N! I’m so glad you’re home! I know I’m kinda stopping by unannounced and all, but I was just on my way…” he trails off as he pulls back slightly, eyes narrowing as they flicker across your face.
“Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he murmurs, his hands still entwined around your waist.
You smile tightly, biting down on your bottom lip. Should you tell him? There’s still some part of you that thinks maybe it’s all in your head, that you’re working yourself up for no good reason, but what if you’re not? What if there is somebody who’s-
There’s an insistent tug at your waist and your eyes dart back up to find Lev’s frown deepening. “Something’s wrong, tell me.”
A blush finds its way to your cheeks as you carefully unwind yourself from his hold and make your way back further into your living room, “I- you’ll think I’m being stupid I guess, or paranoid, but…”
“But?” he prompts.
You take a deep breath, fingers twisting in front of you, “I think that somebody might be… following me?” you phrase it almost as a question, carefully watching his face for any sign that he might start laughing at you. But he doesn’t - Lev’s features are perfectly blank as he stares back at you, and you rush to fill the sudden heavy silence that falls between the two of you. “I know it sounds insane, but my friend got me worried the other day, and things have been going missing from my place and I’m almost positive that somebody followed me home tonight and-”
“Hey,” he says, quickly stepping forward to close the distance between you. He reaches for your hand with a soft smile and you let him take it, offering a shaking smile back when his thumb smooths over the back of your palm. “I believe you. You don’t need to be scared, I’m here for you.”
You nod, swallowing down your nerves once more.
“Do you… do you want me to stay tonight? Or at least for a few hours, you just look so fragile and frightened, I hate the thought of leaving you like this.”
Lev’s eyes show nothing but earnest concern as he studies you with a pout, and this time when your lips curl into a smile it's with genuine gratitude for your friend.
You should say no - it’s hardly fair for you to impose on him over something you’re not even sure is real, but… “Actually, that sounds good, if you don’t have plans of course - I don’t want to spoil your night or anything,” you mutter with a blush.
Lev just shakes his head with a soft laugh, “Of course not. You’re my only concern tonight, angel.”
You try not to let the relief show on your face too much. You’ll feel better knowing he’s there with you, and if nothing else you know he’ll take your mind off of things. It’s just what you need tonight - a friend. “Thank you,” you say warmly, dropping his hand so you can make your way back into the kitchen. “I was actually just about to start dinner, have you eaten yet? I was thinking pasta, but let me know if you feel like something else.”
He watches you for a moment as you open the fridge and bend over to rummage inside. “Pasta sounds great,” he calls back, shedding his damp jacket and making his way over to hang it off the coat rack by the front door.
Busy in the kitchen, you’re none the wiser to the soft click of locks turning, the deadbolt sliding back into place.
#yandere haikyuu#yandere lev#yandere lev x reader#yandere lev haiba#yandere lev haiba x reader#lev haiba#yandere hq#yandere imagines#lev haiba x reader#request#tw stalking#my writing
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Hii uhhh this is for mermay, but it's not one of the fills so please feel free to ignore this if it doesn't catch your interest!!
Idea;; within a mostly-canon setting, Duck is turned into a merperson (probably while they're trying to deal with one of the abominations, but that part's flexible) and has to deal with it while still trying to like,, function. He gets a magic disguise, but hijinks ensue.
Here you go! I attached this to "Summer rain" and another mermay prompt. It's SFW
The last time he went flying through the air and into the water while fighting an abomination, he almost died. So he’s none too pleased when he surfaces from being chucked in Lake Brahe.
“What the fuck Indrid?!”
“I’m so sorry” Mothman flaps above him, both sets of hands tapping together anxiously, “I promise this is for the best but I’ll admit the exact process might have been overkill.”
“You fuckin’ think??” Duck kicks towards shore, grabbing his hat as it tries to float away, “the others are still back there with that thing. And I fuckin hate bein’ chucked into things without warnin.”
“I don’t think there are people who do enjoy such things.” Indrid alights on the shore Duck is swimming towards.
“Well then don’t fuckin do them.”
“It is for your own good, Duck Newton.”
“Yeah, heard that one before.” He hits shallow water, wades to shore trying to shake his hat dry, “now c’mon, fly me back so we can-”
His legs crumple, sending him face first into the lake. Crawling is no good, his whole body contorting and shaking, his throat and lungs burning. He claws at the pebbles and sand, coming away with fistfuls, grabbing for something, anything, to pull him from the water, as if reaching shore will free him from the pain wracking his body.
The world is coming in photo negative now, flashes of color that don’t make sense, the crack of his bones filling his ears. He might he crying, the pain is too deep to tell what else he’s feeling or doing.
“Help” he rasps into the night air.
Human hands cup his face, guide his aching head down across bony legs, “It will not last much longer.”
“Am” he gasps, feels the Sylph turn their bodies for some unknown purpose, breathing easier after he does, “am I gonna die.”
“No. And before you ask, your powers would not have done much for you if you still had them.”
“Fuck” he whimpers.
“Agreed.” Indrid strokes his hair, “five more seconds. Four, three, two, one.”
Duck passes out before Indrid can say anything else. He’s roused by the footfalls of combat boots and wingtips down the beach.
“Duck, Indrid-OH HOLY SHIT!”
“He’s not-”
“No, Ned, he is very much alive. Had I not moved him when I did, he would have suffocated before you could get him to any water.”
“Thank god.” Ned must be by his head.
“Aubrey, can, can you, it hurts-”
“Ummmmm” His friend sounds like she’s trying to come up with a comforting explanation, “which part of your tail hurts?”
Duck sits bolt upright, then falls back into Indrid’s arms, staring at the deep green and silver tail where his legs should be.
“Well….fuck.”
---------------------------------------------------------------
“How are you doing?” Indrid, red glasses glinting and pink and yellow sweater hanging off his tall frame, perches on a rock.
“Great. I’m a regular, breakable dipshit who turned into a fuckin merman without warnin, I had to have Barclay call work and tell ‘em I got a flu so they won’t fire me for disppearin, anything my friends bring me to eat gets soggy, and I ain’t seen my cat in three days.”
“So...not good then?”
Duck raises an eyebrow. Indrid smiles, not his usual confident, casual one. He looks unsure, which is in and of itself kind of unnerving.
“No, Indrid. Not good at all.”
“Ah. Apologies, I sometimes have trouble parsing certain tones.”
Duck swims closer, “Sorry.”
“It’s quite alright. You have every reason to be angry and upset. Even with me.”
“Pretty sure you didn’t curse me.”
“No. But had I moved faster, gotten to you all sooner, you would not have been in it’s path at all.”
It’s so matter of fact. The same way Indrid talks about anything troubling.
“Certainly my most newsworthy failure”
“Had you not arrived at the cottonwood, it would have been rather bad for me.”
“Oh, don’t worry about the eye. It hurt, but I have felt far worse.”
“And I have yet more bad news; while I can make a charm that will allow you to be in your human form for up to six hours at a time, the properties of that abomination mean eventually you’ll have to return to water.”
There’s a flicker in the smile, so swift Duck wonders if it’s only because his eyes are no longer human, slit pupiled instead of round, that he sees it at all. Or if it’s because this is the first time they haven’t been surrounded by heat, noise, or danger.
“Indrid, you know I don’t blame you, right?”
“Of course, Duck. I was merely being thorough in my apology.” Now it’s his normal, wide smile, but too tight across his teeth.
“He was before my time.” Vincent grins as he sets the DVDs on a well-dusted shelf, “though if Woodbridge is anything like he is now, I doubt they got along. The other ministers say he was...determined when he left. Like he could conquer any challenge earth presented during his quest."
Indrid’s glasses slip down his nose and he pushes them up before Duck gets even a glance at his eyes, “Now, where did I put that pin…” He pats his pockets, freezes when Duck manages to set a hand on his shin.
“Indrid, I mean it. Didn’t blame you then, don’t blame you now. Hell, from the sound of it you saved my ass, big time. So, uh, what I’m tryin to say is thanks. For lookin out for me.”
He squeezes in what he hopes is a friendly fashion. Indrid chirps, once, face losing all trace of eeriness. Then he schools it back to normal.
“You’re welcome. Punching aside, I’m quite fond of you. I’m going to use this for your charm, if that’s alright.” A souvenir pin from the Monongahela's tenth anniversary sits between slender fingers.
“Holy shit, I been lookin for that for ages. I, uh, I try to-”
“Collect them, yes. I saw that in a conversation between you and Juno. I was going to give this to you anyway, goodness knows it took awhile to find it in the trailer, but now it can serve a greater purpose.” With that, he pulls a folded piece of paper from his pocket. Duck’s image unfolds before them, Indrid smoothing it out and setting it on the rock as he begins working. Duck watches with interest, notices the process is much slower than it was when Indrid disguised Billy.
“Am I harder to get right than Ryan Gosling?”
“Yes. Well, not technically, no, but with Billy I just needed him to look human. I need you to look like, well, you. Such a fine specimen requires the utmost care.”
Duck’s about to toss back his usual line he gives to guys who compliment him, then realizes flirting with the Mothman might be weird, or that Indrid may not have meant it as anything more than some clinical, Sylph observation of humans. He tries to distract himself by swimming, but his tail still won’t do what he wants much of the time.
“You’ll have greater success on your back.” Indrid says without looking up.
He’s right, and Duck manages to swim without difficulty, tail shimmering in the sunset. The one time he glances at his friend, Indrid is staring at swaying and rippling in the water.
When the Sylph finally calls that he’s done, Duck speeds to the rock, let’s Indrid pin the charm to the collar of his undershirt that he keeps wearing because he’s still a human, dammit, just one with an inconvenient tail and he’s not gonna start skinny-dipping in a national forest. Again.
Duck flails when legs replace his tail, Indrid’s hand grabbing his a moment before he needs it to and helping him onto dry land.
“Satisfactory?”
“It’s fuckin perfect!”
“Wonderful!” Indrid claps his hands together, “what would you like to do? I may need to escort you for the first day, to be certain there’s no flaw in the charm.”
Duck studies the pink light tracing the angles of Indrid’s face, “Wanna meet my cat? She looks like a bobcat that lost a bar fight, but she’s sweet as can be.”
Indrid’s grin turns genuine for the first time all day, “I would like nothing better.”
The mothman becomes a staple of his life after that. With the charm, he’s able to help the Pine Guard track and slay the abomination, go to work, look after his house, and generally convince anyone not in the know that he’s totally fine. But he has to return to the lake every day, spends his mornings and nights there, even his lunch breaks when he knows he needs to give the charm a break then. It’s far enough away that he’s in no danger of being seen by civilians, but at least once Indrid had to fly him to it before they ran out of time (and Aubrey had to teleport them there, which made him nauseous).
Indrid keeps him company, sometimes with the others and sometimes on his own. He finds waterproof cards and games, listens to Duck talk about work and tells him about his travels. At first he worries Indrid is only doing it out of guilt, but as the weeks go by he comes to see that Indrid likes him. He laughs at his jokes, gives him as close to his full attention as he can, even scratches his scales with his mothed-out claws when they start driving Duck crazy with itchiness.
His friend always goes home to sleep, which is why, as Duck is drifting on his back, half snoozing and half star-gazing, the red eyes high in a tree come as a surprise. He’s on the other end of the lake, doesn’t seem to see Duck as he spreads his wings and flaps into the air. Then he nosedives, pulling up before he hits the water and then skimming across it in broad strokes. He shoots upward, spins, and then repeats the routine.
Duck’s seen him fly during fights and to escape the Cottonwood. Never like this, never so free and graceful. It’s such a joyful sight, makes Duck wish he had wings of his own so he could join him, dance across the stars and their reflections.
He swims towards Indrid, begins mirroring him on a whim, twisting, diving, and leaping as best he can in time with the cryptids flight. Pushes his tail to carry him faster, farther, all for the sake of keeping pace with the beautiful monster in the sky.
Surfacing after a particularly giant splash, a voice lilts down from the sky.
“Race you to the other side.”
Duck loses, but only just, cackles when Indrid buzzes him so closely he can feel the tickle of his feathers. When the mothman finally lands Duck swims to him, scooting up on land so he can watch Indrid fluff and clean his feathers.
“I come to this lake to practice flying without fear of being seen. I assumed you were asleep but, ah” his antenna twitch, “I’m glad you weren’t.”
Duck stretches, moans happily when Indrid gently glides his claws up his tail, “Me too.”
“Same time tomorrow night?” Soft hope flutters between them.
“Yeah.” He grins up at the cryptid, “bring your A-game, I’m gonna carb load tomorrow mornin so I can kick your butt.”
“I look forward to it.”
----------------------------------------------------
It’s been a month and a half since he transformed, which puts them smack in summer thunderstorm season. Duck’s used to it, though he’s more than a little nervous about what will happen if lightning hits the lake. Luckily, tonight it’s just soft summer rain instead of electricity and drops the size of robin eggs.
Indrid isn’t faring as well. The rain droops his antenna, compresses his fluff until Duck can see he’s still a twig under all those feathers. He shivers, chirrs in discomfort and shakes off his wings, but stays put on his favorite rock.
“There a reason you ain’t just turnin human? Could put on a raincoat that way.”
“I” Indrid sneezes, “I want you to feel comfortable. It can be so unpleasant, feeling like the only non-human in a place.”
Duck swims to the rock, flicking his tail up and down as he float, “You’re always changin form to make me comfortable.”
“Yes. Because I want you to not be unnerved by me.”
“But what about what you want?”
A feathery shrug, “That doesn’t matter.”
“Drid-”
Red eyes glare at him, “I am well aware of how I look, Duck. What people think of me. Would you have spent even a fraction of the time you have with me if your transformation had not forced it?”
“Y-fu-uh-I mean not no?” He sinks into the water as resignation becomes visible on Indrid’s inhuman features.
“I’m glad for our friendship, Duck. And I don’t doubt that you’re fond of me now. But please don’t pretend I was your first choice for company.”
“I mean...you weren’t. But that’s because we barely knew each other, hell, you only got back to town three months ago.” Duck takes the hand nearest him, “if this happened to me now? You might be the first person I’d want lookin out for me.”
Indrid chirrs, dips his head down to rub his cheek against Duck’s hand. Suddenly he wants nothing as badly as he wants to get Indrid warm and dry so he can run his fingers through every inch of those feathers.
“May I turn human?’
“Of course. Means you can come swimmin with me.”
Indrid, now in a tank top and yoga pants, cocks his head, “Why?”
“It’ll be fun?”
“My kind are not the strongest of swimmers.”
“Good thing I got a tail and gills, then. Besides, you’ll stop feelin as sticky from the humidity if you’re in the water.”
Indrid pulls off his shirt and pants, revealing duck-patterned boxers, and cautiously wades into the lake.
“Ooohhhh, that is so much better” his sighs, too blissed-out to notice the sudden drop, and only just manages to grab his glasses before going under. Duck zips forward, hoisting him easily into an embrace as he splutters.
“Blechhh, I despise the taste of lake water.” He clings to Duck, skinny legs teasingly tense around his tail.
Duck rubs his tail up and down his inner legs soothingly, “you, uh, want somethin to get rid of the taste?”
“Please.” Indrid smirks, clearly expecting a goof. When Duck tips his glasses up his forehead, he goes stone still.
“Can I kiss you?”
“This was not in any of the timelines.”
“Just came to me now. And that ain’t an answer.”
Indrid nods, tips his face forward to bring their lips together. Duck sighs, floats lazily backwards as Indrid slips his tongue between his lips. When they part, there are more stars in his eyes than in the whole milky way.
“Do you want some good news?” Indrid nuzzles his neck with an adorable trill.
“Lay it on me.”
“The futures just shifted; Aubrey and Janelle will have a cure for your condition tomorrow.”
“Hell yeah.” Duck flips them upright, Indrid “eeping” and holding tighter, “can’t wait to stop worryin’ about whether I’m gonna start suffocatin on land. And, uh” he nips Indrid’s lower lip, forgetting about his sharpened teeth until the Sylph lets out a little moan, “if you ain’t busy tomorrow night, like to take you on a date.”
Indrid beams, “I’d like that so very much. Though I will admit, I’m going to miss how this looks on you.” He squeezes his thighs around Duck’s tail.
“You can always whip me up one if we wanna, uh, relive the fun parts of this experience.”
“True. And with that in mind, my sweet; how do you feel about wings?”
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Final Fantasy prompts no 52
1. Cloud getting swarmed by orphans who proceed to put make up on him, Tifa, and Yuffie.
When they are "revealed" to eachother, Cloud asks, "Am I pretty?" With a blank face and monotone voice.
2. Clouds reaction to different people saying, "I have a crush on you"
That exact phrase. No other wording or phrases.
3. #2 but its everyone in AVALANCHE saying this to Cloud one at a time, once a day.
Example: Yuffie on Tuesday, Tifa on Wednesday, Barret on Thursday, etc.
This is because they were trying a misguided attempt at making Vincent comfortable enough to actually confess.
When Vincent does confess, however, Cloud doesn't believe him. Oops.
4. Palmer was being a prick again. Ever since the "Incident" in the conference room when they discovered Sephiroths...relationship...with laser pointers, Palmer had been sneaking them in and teasing the poor man with them.
Scarlett had been the most recent victim, having the small red dot travel across her breasts without her knowledge. When she noticed the general staring at her cleavage, a whole host of questions flittered threw her mind, the most prominent being, "Am I about to get laid?"
By the time she noticed the dot it was too late. Catboy pounced.
Her last thought before she was squished by hard muscle and leather was "Oh, no."
Later, there was a mysterious surge in people writing fanfiction about Sephiroth pouncing on people...
5. Cloud chunking a ceramic vase full of catnip grass at Sephiroths head and yelling, "Happy birthday, asshole!"
6. Yuffie often observed how cat-like Cloud was, and just never questioned it.
Years later when Tifa says something about it, Yuffie was like, "You guys never noticed? He's always been like that."
Additionally, Vincent trailing his fingers through Clouds hair as the blond rests his head in the gunman lap. All was well and good until Cloud began purring in his sleep.
He wasn't sure what to do with this information.
7. Time traveler Cloud lands in the Shinra building and immediately gets spotted. He fights his way down with First Tsurugi until he's confronted by a familiar mop of spikey blond hair.
He has a blond moment of, "Oh, that's me. Oh- I'm shooting at myself. Lovely." He then proceeded to kidnap his younger self, much to Zacks dismay.
Now Cloud has Zack, Sephiroth, and two people he doesn't know hunting him like a wild animal.
It doesn't help that his past self is uncooperative
8. Zack as the hero instead of Cloud.
They made it to Midgar, but Cloud remained in a coma at 7th heaven. There was even a big rescue scene where he woke up and saved Marlene when the plate fell. Everyone thinks they're dead, but they find refuge with Elmira after AVALANCHE leaves Midgar.
Zack being referred to as "puppy" by Sephiroth in the same way Cloud is referred to as "puppet"
Also, Zack with green cat eyes
9. A group of scientists working under a mysterious organization managed to obtain samples of Clouds DNA, thus managing to revive the SOLDIER program.
But they made a mistake.
Cloud was made using large amounts of S and J-cells. Cells that mutated and changed him. He feels the new SOLDIERs as they change, as they are reborn. He feels them as they come alive with his cells, senses them like blinking lights on a sonar. The pull of REUNION has never been this strong before, but strangely, the blond didn't feel drawn anywhere.
When he first saw them he knew. He knew immediately what had happened and what the scientists had done, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that he had babies and they needed him.
Needed their Mother
And so Gaia cries for another twisted hero
10. Someone from the Silver Elite writes romantic fanfiction of Sephiroth and Genesis and it starts a shipping war with people writing fanfiction about their favorite pairings.
A particularly...mature... piece of romantic high fantasy fanfiction involving himself and some blond named Cloud actually makes it to Sephiroth and he reads it.
He admittedly becomes curious of, "The pretty little fae" that has a solid hold on a significant amount of people in the Silver Elite.
Too bad the blond is avoiding him, like the plague and blushing as red as a beet the moment he sees him. He must have read something the fangirls made.
(Its funnier if you add time traveler AC Cloud but cuter if its CC Cloud. Idk which one I like better)
11. Angeal tries to teach CC Zack and Cloud how to build a bookshelf.
Cloud does pretty good, but Zack...actually, Angeal isn't sure what that is.
Zack called it art, so they were gonna go with that.
That's how they spent the rest of the evening, making wierd art that makes people stare in wonder and confusion.
12. Time travel shenanigans where Genesis's Jenova powers interfere with Clouds and now all the SOLDIERS that were in the Shinra tower with them when it happened have been turned into catboys.
It doesn't really change anything. It's still business as usual, just with a few extra appendages.
Angeal, who wasn't there at the time, has to muffle his laughter everytime he sees his friends.
It doesn't help that the company is pushing for Sephiroth to do a commercial showing off his new assets.
AC Cloud escaped and is on the run, but it's so much harder to blend in when you have cat ears on your head 24/7. Maybe he could wear a hat, but he wasn't sure what to do about the tail.
13. You remember that part in advent children where those monsters came out of the shadows that the remnants sent after Cloud?
Yeah, Cloud can do that. Not the, "summon eldrich monsters" thing, though he can probably do that too. I mean the "sinking into your own shadow to travel at high speeds/ through cracks in walls".
He finds this out by getting out of bed and falling into his shadow and slinking around like that until someone notices him.
He can't speak, so Barret and the others think the little shodow thing ate their blond friend or something.
Cloud is so frustrated and confused from being stuck in his shadow. Poor guy.
14. Gang leader Cloud x Mafia boss Sephiroth
15. Au where most things are the same, but Cloud and Sephiroth are both demons.
Sephiroth was raised in Shinra and frequently studies his dead race, believing he is the last of his kind and these books were all that were left of his people.
Then he found Cloud, who hated him on sight. As it turns out, Sephiroth is from the Cresent family. A clan of notoriously powerful and cruel demons with silver hair. What's worse is that the man was from the Strife clan, his family's enemy.
They had been at war for eons, with the Cresent family often becoming infatuated or obsessed with a Strife. They even had a phrase, which translated to, "Little song bird, you would look so pretty in a cage"
Needless to say the blond wanted nothing to do with him. So naturally, Sephiroth kidnapped him.
Demon Vincent is kind of there in the background, hiding himself like a smart person and watching over his blond friend and his deceased lover Lucricia's nephew. He allows most things, but ninjas his way in when he feels things are going too far.
#cloud strife#sephiroth#sefikura#vincent valentine#zack fair#angeal hewley#genesis rhapsodos#yuffie kisaragi#ff7#sephiroth+x+cloud#ff7 prompts#ff7 story prompts#prompts#story prompts#final fantasy story prompts#final fantasy 7 story prompts#final fantasy 7#writing fanfiction about writing fanfiction
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chapter 02: Rebellion
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Alya was going to lose her mind at any second. How did she become best friends with someone so damn stubborn?
“Girl, I’m telling you, there is no way that boy does not have a crush on you. It’s so obvious, please!”
“Alya. One: I think you are crazy. Two: he’s just friendly. Ok?”
It had been a little over a month since Adrien Agreste had joined their class, and yet he seemed to be getting along well with everybody. For Marinette, it had been hate at first sight and then love at second sight.
In her defense, she never intended to fall for him. Not when he was the best friend of her archnemesis-for-who-knows-how-long. Definitely not when he’d put gum on her seat on the first day of class, when he didn’t even know her. So, it made absolute sense for her to snob him back… except.
Except she’d been completely wrong.
It had all been a mix up… and as he’d smiled kindly at her, and she’d stared, really stared, into his eyes for the first time since meeting him… she’d realized she really wouldn’t mind getting lost in them and the way the fading sun turned them the most perfect shade of green.
That was when she’d realized she was in trouble. That was when she’d realized that despite her initial, intense hate for the green-eyed blond-haired boy, she’d fallen quite hard for Adrien Agreste at second glance… even though he was the best friend of her archnemesis-for-who-knows-how-long.
She continued to fall even further when she saw how cute he really was, how kind he was to everyone, how comfortable in his own skin he seemed, how he laughed softly at most anything, and a million other “how's” known only to her heart.
And then they’d started talking.
Of course, she’d always wanted to approach him, but never found the courage to, which was why she resorted to roundabout ways to catch his attention most of the time.
There was that one time she’d learned he loved macarons, so she’d stayed up nearly the whole night just perfecting a batch to bring to school. Then she’d spent the whole day loudly talking about them, waving them around anytime she thought he was looking -- in hopes he’d ask her for one, and they could strike up a convo. But to no avail.
And the time she’d heard that he loved cats, so she’d read about all the different breeds and their origins, even writing notes to remember the important parts. But she’d ended up forgetting to bring the notebook and getting a mind block in school, so that when he asked what her favorite breed of cat was, she’d replied, “Orange.” (She’d wanted to bury herself in a hole for days after that.)
And too many other instances, way more than she could count on her fingers.
Alya had quickly caught on to what her best friend was up to, and was highly against the plan. “Girl, just woman up and go talk to him yourself!” she’d said. “Adrien Agreste is literally the nicest boy I’ve met, and he won’t judge you or anything if you randomly talk to him! And anyway, if he does do that, then he’s not crush-worthy, okay?”
Marinette had seen the sense in her best friend’s statement, but knowing you have to do something and being able to actually do it are two different things. Because Marinette was Marinette Dupain-Cheng, not Alya Césaire, and as much as she’d wanted to talk to him, she just couldn’t bring herself to because she’d been scared, too scared of what he might say.
To her surprise, though, he’d actually reached out to her one day. And the conversation hadn’t stopped, like she’d feared it would. It had gone on for hours which turned into days, and it had felt good, felt right. And for a second, she could almost, almost believe that he could like her, too, despite their awkward beginning. But then she’d stumble over her words, and the fantasy would fade. Because how could he possibly fall for her when he was the most amazing person she’d ever met and she was just Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and there were so many other, better, more interesting people in her school -- in all of Paris for that matter-- that he could fall for? So there was absolutely no way he could like her back, could see her as anything more than a friend.
Right?
Marinette shook her head, clearing it of thoughts. Of course she was right. What could Alya possibly know anyway?
Alya gave Marinette the deadest stare she could muster. “Friendly,” she echoed monotonously. “You know what? I am officially appointing myself as your fairy godmother. And as your fairy godmother it is my duty to prove that Adrien Agreste has a crush on you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”
Marinette sighed at her best friend’s antics. “Well, I won’t stop you, but I do still stand by my original statement.”
Alya pursed her lips. “Okay, how ‘bout this: if it turns out I am right, which I am, and Adrien Agreste does have a crush on you, you owe me an entire box of macarons.”
Marinette shrugged. “Fine with me. You do know this is a win-win for me right? If you’re right, it’s a win that my crush likes me back. If I’m right, it’s a win because I don’t have to bake a dozen macarons.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. But I just want you to be happyyyy~!” Alya singsonged. “So, leave it to me. I gotchu.”
Marinette laughed and rolled her eyes playfully at the wink her best friend gave her. “Okay, then. Work your magic, please.”
“Alya Césaire, Fairy Godmother, at your service!”
.
.
.
The first time Alya had to work her fairy godmother magic, she had to admit it wasn’t the best attempt. But she was still determined to give it her all, and prove her point, no matter what. Her pride as a credible writer depended on it.
(Or so she liked to defend to herself.)
Hence her half-brilliant idea to dress Marinette up for school one day.
There was nothing wrong with her best friend’s style, of course. It was just that it was so… Marinette. Soft and cute, but always hiding her full potential. She just needed a little shaking up, a change in routine, just once.
So there was Marinette, with her hair styled, and dressed in all the clothes she’d been hiding at the back of her closet that Alya had always insisted would suit her. (And they did. Splendidly.)
Alya liked to refer to her plan as half-brilliant -- brilliant because Adrien reacted the exact way she’d hoped, but not brilliant because Marinette reacted the exact way Alya had hoped she wouldn’t.
The moment Marinette walked in the door, Alya noticed Adrien’s head whip around so fast she was afraid he’d gotten whiplash. He grinned shyly as Marinette passed by.
“Morning, Marinette. I haven’t seen you wear that before,” he chuckled lightly, though a faint blush spread across his cheeks. “It really suits you, though. You look very pretty.”
Marinette blinked at that, a little offended at the wording. “Uh. Thanks, I guess?”
Adrien cleared his throat as Marinette started up the stairs to her seat. “Uh, no, I meant, prettier than usual, of course. You’re already naturally pretty, you see.”
Of course, Marinette chose that exact moment to turn beet red and walk into the edge of her desk. “You too,” she wheezed out, doubled over and clutching her stomach.
“I-- sorry? A-are you okay?” Adrien asked, bewildered.
“I said, thank you. And, yes, I’m fine.” Marinette forced a grin as she slid into her seat.
“Well,” Alya said as soon as Adrien sat back down, “what did I tell you? He thinks you’re pretty. He just needed a little push to come out and say it. Boy def has a crush on you.”
“Alya,” Marinette chided, though she was trying to hide how happy the compliment had made her, “what did we say about jumping to conclusions, especially when there’s no diamond solid proof?”
“Don’t,” Alya replied with a sigh.
.
.
.
The second time around, Alya was surprised she didn’t even have to do any work to find something to pick on -- Marinette practically handed her the proof on a silver platter.
It was not unusual for Marinette to come to school late, or with eyebags under her eyes, as Alya knew her best friend had a habit of staying up late the night before and oversleeping. (Seriously, though, with the amount of times this had happened in the past, did the girl have a secret double life or something? It’s not like the school gave enough assignments to lose that much sleep over. Alya was always telling Marinette she really needed to sleep earlier...)
But this time, something seemed different.
Maybe it was the way Marinette was typing furiously on her phone under the table, trying hard not to smile.
Or the way Adrien, with similar eyebags, was doing the same thing.
It could just be a coincidence, though. Alya had to remind herself to take it slow, not jump to conclusions. But still, her best-friend-senses were telling her something was up.
She was just about to bring it up when Marinette turned to her excitedly. “Look at this picture Adrien sent me of his cat. Isn’t he cute? That fluffy black fur and those green eyes, Alya, loooook!”
Alya raised an eyebrow and smiled knowingly. “Wow, you guys chat now? That’s new.”
Marinette bit her lip. “Yeah, but it’s just your usual sending-memes and random-small-talk-about-your-life and i'm-drowning-in-acads-you-too? 4am kind of talks. It’s not the soft here’s-what-i-like-about-you 4am kind of talks, sadly,” she sighed, tapping her phone on her thigh.
“Wait. 4am?”
Marinette smiled sheepishly, and Alya knew her hunch had been correct. “Yeah. I don’t intend for it, obviously, but the past week it’s been like, we start talking, and next thing I know it’s 4am and I’m absolutely doomed because I haven’t started the assignment for Mme. Bustier’s class due at 8:30am.”
Alya laughed. “Okay, Marinette, there is something wrong with that last part, I’ll admit. But nevertheless, I’m so proud of you for holding a convo with the boy of your dreams for that long. And to think that he stays up the same? Damn. I really didn’t peg Adrien as the type to pull all-nighters. I guess there’s only one conclusion…” She trailed off dramatically, grinning at her best friend.
Marinette rolled her eyes. “I know what you’re gonna say, and I’m gonna reply-- it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just two people, talking, getting to know each other.”
“He stayed up. Till 4am. To talk to you.”
“Well… yeah.”
“The past week. An entire week.”
“... yeah.”
“Just for you.”
“You don’t know that. Maybe he was cramming homework,” Marinette argued.
“Girl,” Alya rebutted, “this is Adrien Agreste we’re talking about. When does he ever cram?”
Marinette shrugged. “This past week?”
“Girl, you’re hopeless. You’re lucky I love you. Go back to chatting your dream boy. But please start sleeping earlier.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
.
.
.
The third time was such a dead giveaway Alya felt like she’d been smacked in the head with a huge bag of “HELLO I HAVE A CRUSH ON YOU,” and she could not for the life of her understand why her best friend could not see the truth shaking its butt in their faces.
It happened one morning, when Marinette walked into the classroom wearing the cutest cardigan Alya had ever seen.
“Girl!” she exclaimed once the blue-haired girl was seated. “I love what you’re wearing, it looks so good on you! How come I’ve never seen it before?” The brunette flipped her hair over her shoulder and huffed. “As your best friend, I’m offended you never told me this heavenly piece of clothing existed. I’d have made you wear it every single day if only I knew.”
Marinette bit back a smile. “I know, it’s kinda super cute, right? It’s super comfy, too. Adrien made it for me,” she added shyly.
Alya waggled her eyebrows. “Mm, you mean he had it made for you, right? Must be nice to come from an ultra-known ultra-rich family or something.”
“No, I mean, like, he made it for me… as in he made it himself…”
“Wait, what. One: why. Two: how do you know he made it himself? I mean, girl, no offense to your boy of course. But that’s some high effort shiz to do for someone who is just ‘a friend’” Alya pointed out, using air quotes.
Marinette rolled her eyes playfully. “Okay, one: I know he made it himself because he sent Nino videos of his progress as he was making it, which Nino eventually forwarded to me once I’d gotten the gift--”
(“Nino, that little brat, how dare he not tell me something as important as this,” Alya growled, glaring daggers across the room at her boyfriend.)
“--and two: are you really still doing that? I don't like how you used air quotes because I have absolutely no idea what you mean by them.” Marinette crossed her arms, in denial. “I mean, obviously, yes, Adrien and I are friends and we are doing things friends do, yes that is normal even though he is literally the cutest human being I have ever met but it’s obvious he’ll never feel the same way, so--”
“Marinette, there are heart patterns on the pockets,” Alya deadpanned.
“There are?!” Marinette excitedly began pulling up the cardigan to check. Then she seemed to remember her stand on the matter, and wiped the smile off her face, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles in her clothes. “And if there were, it does not matter, because it obviously does not mean anything. It’s just a cardigan, I think you’re overthinking things,” she said nonchalantly, though her voice was an octave higher than normal.
Alya laughed aloud. “Just a cardigan, Marinette?! He crocheted you a whole freaking cardigan for your birthday! You love cardigans, it’s the most Marinette gift one could give you. Plus,” she continued, holding up a finger when it looked like Marinette was about to protest, “do you know how many days it would’ve taken to make that? And there’s the fact that you guys literally just started talking this month. Come on, you have to admit that means he likes you! Or maybe is just a little interested? Huh, how about it?” Alya nudged her friend, trying to knock some common sense into her.
For a second, it seemed to work. Marinette bit back a smile, took a deep breath, and-- “Maybe he’s just super super super friendly?”
Alya blinked once, twice. “Yeah, ok, I give up. Keep your macarons.”
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#adrinette april 2021#adrinette#adrinette april#miraculous ladybug#idk what im doing sorry#ml#mlb#mlbcn#adrien agreste#marinette dupain cheng#adrinetteapril2021
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~Jungkook soulmate AU~
It’s that same dream again. You’re standing on stage in front of tens of thousands of people. They are all shouting your name, but you can’t hear whose name they are saying. You look to your left and can make out 6 other guys. One with light brown hair and dimples when he smiles. One with black hair who nearly falls off stage when he laughs. Another one with bright purple hair who’s laugh makes you feel warm inside. There’s a guy slightly taller than you next to you. His voice is quite deep but his eyes sparkle when he looks at the crowd. You look intently into his eyes, trying to see if you can see your reflection in them but it’s of no use. Your image is blurred out in them too. A smaller man with silver hair is talking now. His eyes remind you of a cat’s, but there is a softness in them when he is looking at the fans. And there’s the final member standing at the end, who’s smile looks like it could rival the sun’s. You have no idea who they are, every time a name is said the sound is muffled. You feel that fate is toying with you. Letting you see through the eyes of your soulmate, but not letting you hear the exact things that would make you able to find out who they are.
And just like every other dream you’ve had previously, right before your soulmate is about to introduce himself, you wake up, startled and covered in a cold sweat. You glance down and inspect your body, making sure it is yours you are back in. You sigh heavily and lay back down against the pillows glancing up at the ceiling. So far you knew very few things about your soulmate.
1. He was obviously in amazing shape. In one of your dreams one of the other guys had lifted your shirt up and the crowd went wild. You glanced down in curiosity and were pleasantly surprised by the amount of muscle that was on your body.
2. He was obviously a singer or performer of some sort. And was in a group with 6 other guys.
3. He was Korean. You couldn’t understand anything that they were saying but you had googled a few words you thought you had heard and discovered that they were in Korean.
4. He was loved and adored by many. The group must be popular if they are performing on front of this many people.
5. Finding him was probably going to be like finding a needle in a haystack.
Googling the hair colors of the other members had yielded many search results. Apparently lots of idols had dyed their hair purple. And a few others had dimples as well. You weren’t able to fully see the other members. Most of their faces were blurred out except for the few features the dreams allowed you to see. These must be the ones that stood out to your soulmate the most, or that he particularly cherished about them. You were at least fairly confident that your soulmate was in a kpop group. A very popular one at that. But you could never tell what country they were touring in so you had no way of even narrowing it down by which city they were in.
Your phone alarm suddenly went off, signaling that it was time for you to get up and go to your office and meet with your publisher about the release date for your latest story. It was a tale of two soulmates, their only connection being through their dreams. And you gave the main characters a happy ending in hopes that it would allow fate to give you both the same kindness.
Jungkook woke up startled. He shot out of bed with his eyes wide and heart racing. He got out of bed in an attempt to ground himself. His feet touched the plush carpet of the hotel room. The feeling helped center him in reality. He walked towards the mirror and turned on the light, seeing his own reflection staring back at him was a comfort. He turned the handle on the faucet and let the water run until it was ice cold before splashing it on his face. When he glanced back up, his hyung was staring at him in the mirror.
“Did you have that dream again?”
“Yeah. Same one. Actually, well this time it was different. I don’t know it’s hard to explain. I finally got to meet her. Instead of the usual where it’s me trying to figure out clues on how to find her. But her face was blurred. I couldn’t make out any defining features. But goodness when I was finally able to hug her it was like every worry or concern I had just melted away. I really want to find her but I don’t know how and it’s so frustrating! I’m living out the main character’s lives in her novels and this one is literally our story. She gave them a happy ending, so I can only hope the same happens for us.” Jungkook’s voice cracks at the end and he’s immediately enveloped in a hug. “It’s so frustrating, Jimin. I have all these clues but no idea where to even go with this.”
“It’s okay, Jungkookie. I know you two will find each other some day. Soulmates always do. Let’s go over again when you know so far?”
“She writes novels. She lives in a big city somewhere. She speaks English. Normally the books she writes are fantasy ones but this one was realistic. I think it’s her way of helping me find her maybe? Like maybe if I look up the plot line of this next novel I can find her.”
“So start there then!”
“I know a lot of English now since I have been studying but I don’t know how to look up this plot line.”
“Maybe just look up new books about soulmates and dreams? See whichever article looks to be the most recent?”
“I’m sure many people have written about this before, hyung.”
“True. But your situation is unique. You’re famous. Surely she knows this from the dreams she’s probably had about being on stage from your point of view. You just need to find one with the plot centered around that.”
“That’s... actually a very good idea. Thank you, Jiminie.”
“Jiminie hyung to you. And you’re welcome! Now come on it’s still early. Go back to sleep for a little bit we have to prepare for the first date of our world tour tomorrow! We’re gonna have to be up in a couple hours.” Jungkook groans at this.
“How am I supposed to sleep when the possibility of me meeting my soulmate is so close?!”
“Just figure out a way. You can look for her tomorrow. Right now you need sleep. We don’t want you passing out on stage, so come on now!” Jimin shoves him out the door and Jungkook reluctantly crawls back into bed. Jimin walks to the door that connects their two rooms. “I’ll try to look for you tomorrow too when I have time, okay? That can be our focus after rehearsal is done.”
“Okay. Thank you, hyung.”
“Of course.”
Jimin shuts the door and all is quiet. Jungkook tries to sleep. Really he does. But really, he’s potentially one Internet search away from finding you.
Resist the temptation, Kook. You can do it. Be strong!
He rolls over onto his side and gazes out the window... Then promptly turns back around and grabs his phone off the hotel nightstand and does a quick search for the plot line of your book. An article comes up so he clicks on it. He sees that your book is being released in just a few short days! And as fate would have it, one of the signings just so happens to be in the same city as one of his concerts. It has to be you. There is no doubt in his mind. You have the same hair and build as the girl in his dream. He clicks play on a video where you are being interviewed about your own book.
“It’s actually my own story. Well, although mine isn’t finished yet. I see things that my soulmate does through my dreams. He is actually someone famous in a boy group. I know he’s Korean. But that’s about it. I’m hoping through this book he’ll be able to find me, since it’s our story...” You go on to talk more but Jungkook cannot hear it over the pounding heart beat in his own ears. It’s you! It’s really you! He shouts happily and begins flailing about in the bed when suddenly the door is swung open, and a very grumpy looking Jimin is standing in the doorway.
“Jungkook, what on earth-”
“I found her, hyung! Her name is y/n! Look!” He practically shoves the phone in his face and Jimin has to back away to let his eyes focus before they widen in shock.
“Oh my god! You really did! This is amazing! And look one of her book signings is the same day as our tour date! Kook! You’re going to meet your soulmate in just a few days!” Jimin tackles him onto the bed and rolls over next to him, looking fondly at the maknae as he’s endlessly scrolling through your social media, watching your interviews, and reading up on what he can about you.
“She’s beautiful, Jimin. And everything I could have imagined and more. Oh my goodness look at how many books she’s written she must be so smart and creative. And listen to her laugh!” He goes on like that absolutely gushing over you. “I’m going to message her.”
“No! Jungkook, don’t.”
“Why not? I’m positive it is her.”
“Don’t you think it’ll be more meaningful to have your first interaction be in person? You can just show up at her book sign and boom! There you go. Couple of the year. Couple of the century. I wonder what’s your couple name going to be.”
“Jimin you sound just as excited about this as me.”
“Because I am! Our little Jungkookie is finally going to meet his soulmate. But seriously now it’s time for bed. You gotta be up in 2 hours now so at least try to get some sleep.”
“Okay. Goodnight.”
“Night, Kook. Sweet dreams.”
“Oh I have a feeling from now on they will be.”
**The day of the concert and book signing**
You’re on the way to your fan meeting when suddenly a billboard and flash of purple hair catches your eye.
BTS to perform at the stadium tonight at 7pm!
“Stadium? Wait a minute.. The purple hair.. the silver... His eyes. Oh my god!” You run up to the billboard to get a closer look but by the time you get closet it’s changed to a different advertisement. You sigh heavily, pulling out your phone ready to snap a photo the next time it scrolls by. When it does you take a photo and closely inspect it.
“Oh my god I am an idiot. How did I not notice this sooner! My soulmate is in BTS. Holy shit.” You gaze at all of their faces until you see one you’ve never seen any defining features of in your dreams. “That must be him. Jungkook? Oh he’s so cute oh my god.” You pull out your phone and lose yourself in the searches, watching interviews, looking at pictures, watching a music video. “They are so insanely talented it’s not fair and oh! Look at these photos of him when they debuted! What a little cutie I wanna squish his cheeks.” Your fawning is interrupted when a call comes in from your publisher. You glance at the time and realize you are late to your own book signing.
“Shit. I’m so sorry! I got side tracked but I am on my way!”
“You better hurry up y/n! There’s a ton of people here right now! What on earth were you doing?”
“I found my soulmate! Jungkook!”
“I’m sorry what? Did you say Jungkook, like BTS Jungkook?”
“Yes! Do you know them?”
“I’ve been a fan of theirs for years. I’m actually going to their show tonight. My friend bailed on me last minute so I have an extra ticket if you want to go with-”
“Yes! 100 times yes, please take me with you!”
“Ok ok! You can come with me just.. how are you planning on finding him?”
“....”
“Y/n? You still there?”
“Sorry. Just thinking. I didn’t plan that far ahead. They’re basically untouchable how on earth am I going to ever meet him?”
“Oh come on y/n. I’m sure fate wouldn’t be that cruel to you! Have a little faith.”
“I’m not going to get my hopes up. I think for now I will just be content with admiring him from afar. Anyway I gotta go. I’m approaching the building now. Bye.” You end the call and your heart sinks. You have no chance of meeting him. You’re from different countries. He’s in arguably the biggest band in the world. You probably can’t get within 10 feet of them without getting tackled to the ground by their security. And besides he’d probably just think you were some crazy delusional fan. You feel disappointment and sadness threatening to spill out as tears, but quickly shove it back down as you see the line of your own fans waiting to meet you. You plaster a smile on your face and enter through the back, sitting down at the table and just hoping this time will pass by quickly so you can go home and sulk before the concert.
As the line begins to dwindle you notice a gentleman at the very back of he line. He’s dressed rather casually, in sweat pants and a huge Carharttt t-shirt. You admire the tattoos on his arm and wonder what the meaning is behind them. He’s wearing a bucket hat and sunglasses, and a face mask, clearly not wanting to be noticed. Either that or he was an axe murderer come to make you face your doom. You laugh internally and quickly shake that thought away. You always did have an overactive imagination after all, you are a writer. When he finally approaches the table you can’t help but feel a weird fluttering in your stomach. Like your gut is trying to tell you something. You are uneasy and aren’t sure why. He seems to be feeling the same if the way he’s constantly looking over his shoulder around him is any indication.
“You’re not some serial killer here to make me meet my untimely demise are you?”
“W-what? No! What the hell? Why on earth would you think that?” You can’t help but find his accent adorable.
“Gee, I don’t know! Maybe because clearly you don’t want anyone to know your identity! Easy for a quick getaway if no one knows who you are. And you keep glancing around all suspicious to see if people are watching you.” You lift your eyebrow and give him an accusatory glare,
“If I didn’t want to be identified in a crime I would have covered my tattoos.” He lifts and eyebrow at you back, as if to challenge you further.
“That’s a fair point. You got me there.” He starts giggling and says something in Korean. Your heart goes flying into your throat as the realization hits you.
“I don’t want anyone to see me because I don’t want to get mobbed by my own fans. And I’m nervous because wow you’re even more beautiful than I imagined.” He lowers the mask for a second and you gasp audibly.
“It’s you! The guy from my dreams!”
“You use that line often?”
“Oh my god shut up. It’s really you?!” You stand up from the table and reach your hands across it, squishing his cheeks between your hands.
“What are you doing, weirdo?” You can barely make out what he’s saying as it’s muffled due to your playing and pinching his cheeks.
“Making sure you’re real and that I’m not dreaming again. How did you find me? How are you here right now, isn’t your show starting soon? Oh my publicist is gonna flip her shit when she sees you here-” He covers your mouth with his hand and tells you to shh, lifting his mask back up to cover his face.
“I said I didn’t want to be recognized remember?” Your eyes widen and you nod your head. He lowers his hand, and you can tell he’s smiling brightly at you by how his eyes are crinkling at the corners. “Hi. I’m Jungkook.” He holds his hand out and you smack it away, opting to run around the side of the table and throw your arms around him instead.
“I think we’re a little past handshakes.” His arms tighten around you and you rest your head against his chest, enjoying the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat thudding in his chest against your ear. You sigh happily and feel a kiss pressed to the top of your head. You glance back up at him and see his mask is gone again. And he’s absolutely beaming at you.
“You have the most adorable smile I’ve ever seen.” You don’t mean to speak this out loud but figure you must have by the way his cheeks are flushing bright red.
“Um, T-thank you. I like yours too. And your eyes. And your voice and just... everything.” Now it’s your turn to blush. You glance away from him and notice that everyone has cleared out of the store, seemingly went about their business to give you two a moment of privacy. “So, I was wondering. Do you want to come to our show tonight?”
“Oh! My publicist actually already got us tickets!”
“But I’m sure they’re not front row, huh?”
“Well.. no they certainly aren’t but-” He pulls two tickets out of his jacket pocket and hands them to you. “Here. I look forward to seeing you tonight. I’ll put on an extra good performance just for you.” He winks and ruffles your hair playfully and a giggle bubbles out of you.
“Okay. I’ll be there.”
“We’ll be there!” You hear her yell from somewhere in the the store. You both laugh at that and you notice him staring at your lips. He starts to move in before you give him a playful tap on the lips with your finger tips. He looks at you in surprise.
“You at least have to take me on a date first before you get to steal a kiss from me, Mr. Jeon. Just because you’re my soul mate doesn’t mean you get special privileges.” He smiles and rubs the back of his neck.
“Well.. how about after the concert then? We usually all go out for dinner anyway but we can go out just the two of us.”
“I would really like that.”
“Okay then. I’ll um.. see you in a few hours then?”
“Oh you’ll see me alright. And you’ll probably hear me too. I’ll be screaming my lungs out yelling your name.” He chuckles and brings your hand up to his lips as he kisses the back of it and holy- his lips are so soft it makes you nearly take back your words from just moments before, thinking about how they would feel on yours.
“I’m looking forward to it.”
“Me too. I’m looking forward to everything. Finally getting to know you, and talk to you, I want to know everything about what makes you the kind, sweet person you are.”
“We have time. All the time in the world.”
“I can’t think of any better way to spend it.”
#bts reaction#bts scenario#bts imagine#bts#jeon jeongguk#jeon jungkook#jungkook reaction#jungkook scenario#jungkook imagine#jungkook x reader#reader x jungkook#bts soulmae au
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12. Granny Out of Control a.k.a. headless chickens, Gene Simmons’ girlfriend and Rapunzel
In the previous chapters: Judy and Stone act after their embarrassing encounter in the shower as if it hadn’t even happened; they implicitly agree on not telling Mike that his one-night stand was just the consequence of Judy’s revenge-fueled rumors about Stone’s sexual preferences. Ed loses his voice so the show has to be canceled, Jeff offers to give guitar lessons to Judy instead in his spare time. Granny buys a metal magazine to learn more about Seattle-based rock bands; the picture of Pearl Jam makes her think the perfect match for Judy isn’t Jeff but Stone. Krisha picks Effie up in the city to tell her that Kelly Curtis and Susan Silver have plans with her as a photographer; she also gives her the list of codenames the band and crew members use at hotels. Effie also joins her when she feeds Stone’s unsociable cat, Red who is incompatible with all girls who try to approach him.
„I don’t know, man… Are you sure you saw them?”
“Don’t piss me off, Schmitty, of course I’m sure. I know whom and what I saw.” I mumble as I put the flashlight back between my teeth. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Not only makes he me do this stupid act, he even drives me crazy with this weak-minded questioning in the meantime. The guy obviously watches too much TV. Especially detective shows about drug cartels.
“But let’s go over it again. Maybe you were wrong or misunderstood the situation or…”
I sigh, and take the flashlight out of my mouth only to direct the blinding ray of light in his face.
“Okay, but this is the last time. And I’m only willing to tell it again because I have nothing better to do and because technically, I can’t do anything else until we finish this. Open the bag and hold it.”
“Yes sir... so you went having a shower…”
“Not that it matters if I went showering or shitting but yes, I went to the restroom.”
“And you opened the door…” he goes on with the storytelling like a small child who already knows his favorite bedtime story by heart.
“And there were they, standing at the sinks…”
“Stop. Are you sure it was them?”
“Of course I am, I could recognize Judy and Stone from miles!”
“Are you 100 % sure?”
“No, I’m only 99 % sure because there’s a very small chance that they both have doppelgangers right in this town but let’s say I’m very likely to have seen them.” I confirm while I start portioning the green leaves into the plastic bag Schmitty is holding.
“And they were…”
“…basically naked.”
“Basically?” he asks like he’d never heard the word before.
“Yes, basically.”
“How do you mean “basically”?”
“What? I’m fucking around here with sharing my weed with you and you’re already high? Unbelievable…”
“No-no-no, seriously, man, you didn’t say “naked”, you said “basically naked”. Define the difference. It’s important.” he flails fussily.
“Stop shaking the bag, it’s difficult enough to do this only with one hand. So, uh, they weren’t completely naked, they both were wearing a towel…”
“The same towel or…?”
“Hah, interesting idea, but no, they both had their own towel on. But I assume none of them was wearing any underwear…”
“That’d be normal, I mean, after showering… but that’s the weakest point in your theory, them having a shower at the same time… it sounds so unreal.”
“Yeah, I thought the same until I found the only logical reason.”
“What? That you only dreamed the whole thing? Or that it was just an intense trip due to the shrooms Mike gave you?”
“I know it sounds unbelievable but at this point, I’m pretty much convinced they did it on purpose.” I close the bag and throw it at Schmitty who hides it immediately in the inner pocket of his jacket and pats himself on the chest satisfied.
“Thanks. But I can’t follow your thinking, Scully. Why’d they secretly meet in the shower?”
“I don’t want to shock you but… I think they had sex right before. I almost entered but then I glanced them and they were almost naked, both giggling and Judy was groping Stone and… I backed out, I was so surprised, I didn’t even know what to do…”
“But they hate each other.” Schmitty protests shaking his head.
“And? Since when can’t people who hate each other have sex with each other?”
“Man, this is too much to me, Stone has Amber at home, Judy is like a nun, they can’t stand each other so obviously, they have sex??? Bullshit, that’s all I can say. I don’t know what you saw but it definitely couldn’t be a post-coital scene.”
“Look, I don’t understand the exact reasons either but…”
“I’ve always been told that as soon as we start touring, girls will try to drag me in the tour bus all the time but I imagined it somehow different…”
We both freeze at the hearing of Stone’s smug giggling and our surprise only grows when we recognize the voice that belongs to his companion.
“Sorry for ruining your wet rock star dreams but it’s impossible here to talk to someone face-to-face, even the walls have ears in this crew.”
Schmitty and I exchange a meaningful look and to his nod, I turn the flashlight on the lowest level. Walls might not have ears here but this bunk bed curtain we’re hiding behind definitely does. Even four, to be exact.
“So what’s the purpose of this conspired, hyper-secret meeting, Camden? I’m hungry so let’s get over with this as fast as possible!”
Hungry, yeah, I can imagine. So you prefer quickies, Stoney?
“I just wanted to talk about yesterday.”
Schmitty stares at me with popped eyes, even his jaws drop of shock.
“Ha. So you were thinking about it?”
“Yes but not the way you think. I’m not gonna tell you tirades about how much I regretted it or stuff because I didn’t. I only want to ask if you talked to Scully about it?”
Schmitty grabs my forearm, digging his nails into it, his other hand is shaking uncontrollably.
“No and I don’t know why I should force it, I mean it happened, it’s embarrassing enough for both of us so let’s draw a veil over it.”
“It’s embarrassing for both of us? Do you really think I give a damn about that? I mean, okay, I lost control, which doesn’t happens really often to me but who cares, I can handle the consequences. You feeling embarrassed, now that’s the last thing I care about. But have you already thought about the feelings of your friend at least for one single second?”
We both furrow our eyebrows and her words probably found their marks since Stone doesn’t answer, which makes Judy go on with the pep talk.
“Okay, neither of us is going to say a word since we both have selfish interest in keeping it in secret but if Scully shoots his mouth off and he finds out about what happened… just think into it, it’d ruin his self-esteem. I mean, it’s inevitable that it turns out later but the best strategy is discretion. Now, it’d be too fresh for him, let’s wait until he forgets about this little… intermezzo.”
Schmitty covers his still opened mouth in complete horror and even I start feeling uncomfortable now that my intuition is basically confirmed.
“So, would you finally promise to talk to Scully?”
“Dunno… I’ll consider it.”
“Jesus Christ, Gossard, would it hurt not to piss me off once in a lifetime?”
“To answer your question, yes, it would but this time it’s not about you, Miss Fussy. I was just thinking that we should let it slide since after all, it’s not as a big deal as you think.”
You fuck her and then try to ditch her? Come on Stone, I thought you were better than this.
“I mean, you make such a fuss but I don’t think Scully would let it slip, he’s probably already forgotten about the whole scene. And if I came up with it, he’d just start overthinking it; when he knows he has to shut his mouth, he becomes gossipy all the more.”
Ha, thanks Stoney but just for the record, I don’t gossip, I just process things by discussing them with other people, see also at “coping mechanisms”…
“It’s you who’s overthinking it. Just stop protesting and do what I ask you. I even use the word “please”.”
“Fuck, okay, I’ll see what I can do, just leave me finally alone with this. Can I ask you something too?”
“It depends…”
“Could we stay here for ten… fifteen minutes? You know, it’s about my reputation…”
“Fuck off, Gossard!!!”
We both exhale with a deep sigh when we hear them leaving the bus.
“Holy. Shit.”
“Holy. Fucking. Shit. Dude, you were right!”
“Of course I was right, I always am, you just never believe me.“
“But… damn… I didn’t see that coming… Gahhh.” Schmitty facepalms, rubbing his forehead worried.
“I’m surprised, though, I thought they didn’t notice me.”
“Apparently, they did. Jesus, I doubt there’s something serious between them but now that I heard it with my own ears, it all makes sense! They hook up, they are both embarrassed since they are enemies, plus the Amber-factor… and poor Jeff, he has a massive crush on Judy and she knows it, maybe she tries to have two irons in the fire… So she convinced him to keep the fling in secret not to ruin her chances at Jeff… She looks so innocent and now she turns out to be an actual snake… Do you think Karrie knows about it?” he jabbers staring desperately in front of himself.
“Whoa, stop, dude, are you insane? She’s not a bitch, they just made a mistake and she freaked out. Her worrying about Jeff sounded genuine, after all, Stone is no perspective for her, he’s got that… he’s got Amber, whatever she is for him. And I don’t think Karrie knows anything, even if she does, she’ll pretend she doesn’t.”
“But this changes everything! Jeff is our friend too and I don’t want to lie to him.”
“Trust me, he’ll never ask “And tell me Schmitty, have Judy and Stone had sex?”, so you don’t have to.”
“You’re making fun of me but you know too how dangerous information these are so you’d better have a good idea what are we going to do know.”
“I’ll tell you, Schmitty: we’re gonna act casual. Just watch me.”
***
„There’s no chance I could reach that string. Just… no. I don’t have that muscle, I’m done.” I moan as I desperately try to stretch my pinky finger to play the next chord following Jeff’s instructions.
“Hey, relax, just reach a bit further, you’ve almost got it.” he chuckles and makes an insecure move to help me out but he changes his mind in the last moment and pretends he only wanted to scratch his arm. And I pretend not to have noticed it.
“No, it’s impossible, I can’t twist my wrist that much. I don’t have freakishly long fingers like Stone, it’s enough.” I give up and put the guitar aside. We’ve been practicing for like one hour, I played him my still rudimentary sounding song idea, of course without telling him what exactly it was. He improvised a bass line to it on his acoustic bass guitar, his fingers are still running back and forth over the strings despite the fact I stopped playing. When I was a kid, Grandpa would tell me that if you cut the head of a chicken, it can still run around for a few seconds before collapsing, maybe it’s a similar phenomenon. Or maybe it’s like when a freight train hits a car and it pushes the vehicle in front of itself for miles before stopping. Headless chickens and train wrecks, why am I thinking about stuff like these while hanging out with a nice guy?
“I’m sure you can do it if you practice it. Look, my fingers aren’t long either.” he raises his palm. Is he expecting me to measure mine to his by placing them together? Could we rather just draw them around and compare the drawings like small children? Okay, he’s got strong, manly hands, that’s not bad at all. But how can he stuff those thick fingers between the strings? And those jewelries, God, they are terrible. Would he mind if I asked him to put them off?
“No, I can’t. I’m not good at these moves, I’ve already tried to play the violin, it didn’t go well. It went awful.” I protest, rather to overtalk my racing thoughts than to argue with him. I hope he’s not going to ask me about the details, I don’t feel like telling him that story at all.
“Okay, it was you who asked me for help, so…” he shrugs with a half smile, his fingers are still nerve-wrackingly torturing the instrument.
“Actually it was you who offered to help so…”
“Fair enough. I don’t want to force it so… if you want to finish all your future performances by saying “sorry, now comes the chord which is incompatible with my wrist so go the fuck home” – then okay, I don’t care.” he puts down the guitar. I try to decode the expression on his face, is he disappointed or just casual or…?
“How do you do that?” I ask quickly, I can’t bear that look.
“What?”
“This… everything…” I flail helplessly.
“I don’t know… I think I got bored with doing nothing and wanted to try something new and I realized I could do everything instead of nothing.” he leans back with a challenging smirk.
“Geez, you spend too much time with Stone.” I roll my eyes. “I mean… I played you something and you immediately knew what to do with it. Your head is full of ideas and variations, can you hear the harmonies instinctively or…?”
“I don’t know… when I hear a melody, I start hearing the other parts in my head… but sometimes I just mess around and try different things to check if they can work as a song or as an idea that I can use later. I try to keep my ears fresh, I fight against crafting only bass lines in my head, that’s why I pick up the guitar from time to time. You know, if a bass player never leaves his comfort zone, after a while, he’ll tend to operate only with the same five or five notes, it’s like a tunnel vision… or tunnel hearing…” he ends his explanation with a shrug and a lopsided smile, as far as I’ve observed, he does that pretty often.
“That’s amazing… I envy you so much. I’ve been studying and playing music for as long as I can remember but I’ve never felt that… sense of liberty? I practiced my ass off, I learned everything I could, at Juilliard, we basically dissected classical musical pieces into single notes and… I developed some weird perfectionism in the meantime, I know how good music is supposed to be composed but… I myself just can’t do it. I was so busy with studying other people’s works that I couldn’t develop the ability to create something, it’s like… my knowledge paralyzed my creativity… Or that’s just what I keep telling myself because I1m not willing to accept the fact that writing music is a gift you can’t just earn by practicing and learning…”
“Maybe you’re right.” he shrugs again and his reaction somehow hits me hard; I don’t know why, though. “I think I’ve already mentioned you that I took piano lessons but I hated it. I found literally nothing intriguing in it, it was boring, I’ve never been into Beethoven or some shit like that.”
“What?” I frown. I didn’t expect him to like the same things I do but… could he just show at least a little interest in what I like? I even talked about art and skateboarding with him. Okay, he doesn’t owe me anything, we’re not dating and all but if he ever wants something from me… okay, he probably doesn’t, it was obviously just a stupid gossip.
“Hey, I didn’t mean to trash your music, it’s just not for me, I appreciate it but I don’t like it. I’m just a Montanan jerk, did you forget?”
“You’re not a jerk, don’t say that… I’m just… nothing, forget it.”
“No, if you want to say something, don’t swallow it. Did I hurt you?”
“You didn’t… I’ve just spent my entire life playing classical music so I can’t imagine how someone is able not to like it at all.”
“Same here with sports.”
“God, I hate sports!” I exclaim and I immediately begin to laugh realizing I’m not better than him either.
“You see? But speaking of your music studies, there’s one thing I’ve always wanted to ask.”
“No.”
“No what? Am I not allowed to ask the question?”
“No is the answer to the question.”
“But I haven’t even…”
“Trust me, it’s no.”
“If you say so…”
“I’m just kidding. Most people attack me when they learn I’m a musician asking if I’d sing or play something for them, it’s so annoying, it’s like the “grunge question’ of classical musicians…”
“Okay, I get it.” he smiles. “But that’s not what I was about to ask.”
“Thank God. So, I guess you don’t want me to teach you reading sheet music either, because that’s usually the second question, which is usually asked by people with no musical hearing at all...”
“No, it’s more of a… personal one.” he hesitates squinting at me for the final permission.
“Hit me.”
“Why are you here?”
“Here? Like, here and now, with you or…?”
“No, I mean, why are you here, with the band? You graduated from one of the most prestigious music schools on Earth, you could conduct top choirs or whatever… and you’re here, loading our shitty van every single night, smelling sweat and cigarette smoke, spending days in a tour bus with beer drinking ugly dudes… Why? I guess Juilliard graduates can pick whatever job offer they want so...”
“I’m here for the money.” I answer without thinking and it immediately sounds false. Am I? Really? “I came here for the money, I don’t deny it, I had no job and however terrified I was, something told me I had to take this opportunity.”
“But… as a classical musician trained at Juilliard… why this job? I just can’t get it.”
“Well… I’ve known for a very long time that the music of baroque era is in which I’m the most interested. It’s, you know, a passion to me, it’s like punk was to you. And if you want to be really good at it, you have to go to the place where it comes from. Here in the States, you can basically hear nothing that was written before Mozart.”
“Europe?”
“Exactly. So in my senior year, I applied for a scholarship of the music academy in Leipzig.”
“And…?”
“And I won it.”
“So you studied in Europe too?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because my father died a few months before I graduated and the small firm he ran died with him… it was a very complicated period so I asked the academy if I could postpone it by one year.”
He’s chewing his lower lip and speaks up only after digesting for a few seconds what he’s just heard.
“And they refused your application?”
“No, they sent me a kind acceptation letter in which they cited their scholarship regulation that said postponement is allowed once. So I moved back to Seattle and started teaching.”
“Oh. I guess something came up one year later too.”
“Well yeah, my sister’s almost dying, that came up.”
He exhales with a deep sigh, I have the feeling he already knew all the details, he just couldn’t do the math. Maybe Karrie told him our family saga. I don’t mind, though, I don’t feel like telling him those stories either…
“Well, that’s a lot… but it also sounds like… you gave up your dreams.”
Now it’s me who can’t do anything else but shrug.
“Maybe… or maybe, it was just a warning from the universe. I’m not religious but I do believe that everything happens with a reason, maybe you can’t find it out ever because it’s something bigger than you or your shitty little life. My family needed me and they still do, or at least they need my two hands I can make money with so… plus, I’ve always been terrified of performing. I have worst stage fright, I doubt I would be able to conduct in the spotlight of the world’s biggest concert halls… anyways… have you ever heard about famous, female conductors?”
“Normally, I’d say you’re a coward and you should follow your dreams but I understand the family factor, of course. And I don’t want to act like a hypocrite either, I could have looked for another graphic design program too when mine was canceled in Missula.”
“But changed your dream instead.”
“Exactly. And maybe that’s what you should do too if universe or God or Buddha or the spirit of Johann Sebastian Bach is trying to message you that you picked the wrong dream.”
“Are you trying to say I should switch my brain to believe loading shitty vans and smelling Scully’s and Schmitty’s stinky feet is my real dream?” I giggle.
“If that’s your way, than go for it, girl!” he plays the overly enthusiastic motivational trainer. We crack up but none of us is laughing heartfelt. His face finds finally rest in a genuine, encouraging smile. “Let’s raise our glasses to the new dreams!”
We both reach our hands to clink our imaginary glasses.
“To the new dreams!”
***
I’ve been on the road with them for days and nothing. Not a single move or a sound that’d confirm we’re following the right traces. And I’m thirsty. So thirsty. But they are so envious, I know they are hiding spare water in their stupid spacesuits or what but they claim they have nothing to share. Sure. I would never drink recycled pee, anyway. But those two moons look pretty cool, the night sky compensates me for every inconvenience I’ve experienced since we started chasing that gross sandworm… everything for the melange…
However important my mission is, it gets interrupted by three quick, impatient knocks on the door.
“You’ve been shitting in there for forty-two minutes! I know you’ve finished and you’re just reading! I have to pee! Get the fuck out of there! Why do you have to do this all the time?”
Maybe because this is the only place where I can have some progress with my current reading undisturbed? I reluctantly close the hardcover volume of Frank Herbert’s Dune and glance lazily at my wristwatch.
“First of all, it’s been only forty minutes. Second, it’s shorter than a blink of an eye, if you measure it in cosmic time. Not even applicable.”
“Okay, I can use astronomical metaphors too. My bladder is a red giant that is about to explode so…”
“I’m coming, I’m coming, geez, urinary incontinence? You should see a urologist.” I remark opening the door. He basically tosses me out of is his way and almost slams it on my nose.
“It’s rather you who should see a doctor, fuck, Stone, what did you eat? Uuugh, I’m dying.” I hear his muffled indignation.
I lie down on my bed and stuff the pillow under my nape. I turn the pages back and forth for a few times until find the place where I was before Mike kicked me out. So, back to those goddamn pervert Fremen fuckers…
I barely manage to read a few lines, when Mike comes back and throws himself on his bed, unmuting the TV that is showing underdressed ladies caressing their own body and telling their erotic fantasies in seductive voice. I clear my throat. No reaction. I do it again, this time longer and louder. Nothing.
“Sorry, am I bothering?” I ask sharply but our guitarist seems to be completely immersed in the curves. “Okay, busted. I know you only went to the toilet to jerk off. You only watch Playboy TV and noname porn channels, you really need to get laid.”
“Done, last night. Remember?” he answers slowly and mindlessly, his eyes are still glued to the screen.
“No, because I wasn’t there, thank God.”
“You’re just envious because you have to practice celibacy, otherwise Amber would cut your balls off.”
I squint at the girls over my book.
“Not that I feel tempted. Jesus, I’m sick of these… udders…”
“Hey, watch your mouth! Those ladies deserve more respect! Especially her!” he points at the blonde, blue-eyed, busty woman on the screen who is dropping her lingerie standing at a bath tub.
“Why, who is she?” I look back at the text in front of me, not that I understand a word of it. Since I receive no answer I turn my head towards Mike only to see he sat up in the meantime and stares at me offended. “What? I have no idea.”
“That’s Shannon Tweed!!!” he flails outraged.
“… who is…?”
“Who is a goddess, Playmate of the Year in 1982 and last but not least, the girlfriend of Gene Simmons!”
“Oh. So she’s old as dirt.” I summarize laconically.
“Stone, what’s wrong with you? What’s wrong with her? What’s wrong with big boobs? I thought you liked them… I mean, you are the guy who’s entitled to do anything with Seattle’s most spectacular pair of bosoms so…”
“Hey, you’re talking about my girlfriend!” I grunt.
“I’m talking about your girlfriend’s tits!”
“Exactly, that’s it! Don’t talk about my girlfriend’s tits! Anyway, how do you know what they look like?”
“Hey, first, I’m only talking about them. It’s called freedom of speech, First Amendment…”
“What the fuck, parts of the Constitution are printed now on beer tags or did I miss something?”
“…second, it is very difficult not to know what they look like, they basically poke your eyes out!”
“Only talking, ‘course.”
“Certain female anatomical features attract men’s eyes, it’s in our genetic code. Don’t even try to make me believe those features had nothing to do with you ending up with her. Wait!” he exclaims with a finger snapping. “Oh, I get it already. You miss her! That’s why you can’t stand the playmates on TV! But you could have said, it’s not a shame…”
“Dr. ‘Cready, expert of constitutional law and anatomy, psychotherapist. I’ve just said I don’t feel tempted…”
“Because those boobs” he points at the screen “are forbidden fruit and remind you of those boobs in Seattle.”
“You’re pointing in the wrong direction, Michael. You’re pointing at boobs in Indiana.”
“Whatever. You miss her, admit it. My boobies are over the ocean, my boobies are over the sea…”
“Stop!”
“My boobies are over the ocean so bring back my boobies to me…”
“Shut the fuck up!”
“BRING BAAACK, BRING BAAACK, BRING BACK MY BOOBIES TO ME, TO MEEEE!”
“I’m only saying that even huge breasts can be boring after a while.” I overshout his off-key singing.
Mike suddenly stops singing and just blinks at me completely frozen.
“You mean… you want to leave Amber?”
“Jesus, what did I do to deserve this?” I bury my face in my hands. “I mean… imagine your favorite food!”
“But that’s… risotto…?”
“Perfect!”
“But risotto doesn’t look like boobs!”
“Jesus, of course not, just imagine it!”
“Okay. Mmmh, it looks delicious. I can even feel its smell.” he moans with closed eyes.
“So you want to eat risotto now, right?”
“Oh yeah, I want it more than anything.”
���And if you could… or had to eat risotto every single day, would you feel the same?”
“Uhm, probably… not.” he opens his eyes.
“And here we are. If you’re in the position where you can play with huge breasts every day, it’s not such a big deal anymore.”
“Hm, makes sense…” he lies back. “But wait!” he sits up quickly again.
“What?”
“In that case, risotto wouldn’t be my favorite food anymore.”
“Yeah, probably…”
Congrats Sherlock. I drop my book on the nightstand, by now, I basically gave up all hope for finishing the chapter I was reading.
“But that means that you prefer small boobs now!”
“I didn’t say that but obviously, smaller tits have their appeal too. And there are girls who would look ridiculous with big breasts.”
My mind begins to wander involuntarily… Yeah, Amber is a bombshell and she drives me crazy whenever she’s around but I’ve always had a thing for more fragile looking girls…
“Who are you thinking about?” Mike asks greedily like a curious puppy.
“Jesus, no one.” I scoff frowning. “I mean, very slim girls look better with… proportionate breasts, you know, like small apples…”
I catch myself cupping my hands, what the hell, am I honking imaginable tits in the air? Okay, I have to talk to Eric to fly Amber here, I’m going to put an end to this, I’m pathetic.
“Say an example!”
What? I don’t know whom I was thinking about, I don’t even know if I was thinking about an existing person, maybe I was just fantasizing about freaky phantom breasts, I couldn’t even see them, it was just a desirable cleavage… and round hips… and shapely thighs…
“I can’t!”
“Just say an example, I don’t know, someone famous who looks like that, or someone who we both know…”
“Kylie Minogue?” I groan in agony. Hopefully I satisfied Mike’s need for a new protagonist for his erotic dreams because he only nods with an appreciative pout.
The ringing of the phone on the bedside between us interrupts our intellectual conversation and we both stare at the device surprised and confused for a few seconds, it’s usually us who call family members and friends, not the other way around. Finally, I decide to pick up.
“It’s Stone.”
“…” No one answers but I can hear some indistinct noises coming from the other end of the line.
“Hello… who’s that? Wo am I talking to?” I ask, and Mike pulls closer to the speaker of the receiver too.
“Ah… excuse me… I must have dialed the wrong number… you’re obviously not the Notre Dame Hunchbach…” an old female voice answers.
What the hell? Is this a prank call? Old people make phone pranks too?
“Who?” I mouth to Mike who mouths “Judy” as a response. Ah, yes. She also chose a codename, not that anyone is interested in her. “You’re talking to Dr. Hugh Jeego, but who am I talking to?”
“Ah, you must be Mr. Gossard. I’m Mrs. Albertson, Judy’s grandma.”
I almost drop the receiver.
“Ugh… uhm… hi, Mrs. Albertson, it’s nice to meet you… I mean, even if not in person but… I guess you wanted to call Judy so…” I make an attempt to finish this awkward intermezzo but she cuts me off.
“Actually, I am glad that I can talk with my Judy’s new colleague, this job is so different in comparison to what she worked earlier, you know, she taught in a school…”
“Yeah, I know…”
“…and now she’s with a rock band, and there are so many rumors about musicians, they drink and do drugs and…”
“We… we don’t drink… that much… not before shows…” I answer and Mike nods approvingly opening a beer can with a loud fizz. “… and we prefer herbs…”
“And mushrooms…” Mike adds.
“Shut up, you ruin everything!” I hiss between my teeth while I cover the microphone with my palm.
“Who was that?”
“It was… it was Mike, our lead guitarist.”
“Ah, Mr. McCready!”
Mike pats his chest proudly.
“Exactly, Mr. McCready…” I flip him the bird.
“I hope my Judy takes care of herself, she tends to become obsessed with work, she even forgets to eat… does she eat properly?”
“I’ve… I’ve seen her eating… so I guess she does…” I try to reassure her but I’m afraid I don’t sound very convincing; after all, the eating habits of Miss Smarty Pants don’t belong to my main interests.
“I wish she ate more, she’s so skinny, isn’t she?”
“She is… I mean, she’s slim. But like… not too slim. Her body is proportionate… I mean, physically, anatomically… her shape is feminine… and when I say “feminine” I mean she’s not malnourished…” I babble and the small apple tits appear in front of my eyes again, Jesus, I’ve started losing my sanity… For some reason, Mike feels necessary to grab the receiver and yell a gratuitous, cheesy tirade into it.
“My learned colleague is trying to say that she’s a very pretty young lady, with all the respect, of course. She’s the most virtuous girl I know, she behaves well, you can be proud of her, Mrs. Albertson.”
Yes, Mrs. Albertson, exactly, your grandchild behaves well, she brought condoms only enough for a whole fuckin’ football team, safety first… I snatch the receiver out of Mike’s hand and lift it back to my ear but before I could finally get rid of the old lady, the TV catches my attention. While we were listening to the phone call, the harmless playmate fantasies ended and the channel started airing hardcore porn. And either was the petting part very short or it didn’t even exist since the “characters” are pretty much in the middle of things and before we could react anything to avoid the disaster, the actress starts screaming rhythmically.
“What was that noise? Are women with you too?” the old woman inquires suspiciously.
“Turn down the volume, for fuck’s sake!!!” I scream-whisper to Mike.
“No, we’re alone, Mrs. Albertson… we’re just watching TV… Murder She Wrote, someone is being killed!” Mike improvises aggressively poking the remote. “It’s not working…” he groans with a miserable expression.
“Oh, I like that show… which episode? Maybe I turn on the TV to watch it too...”
If you knew… In the meantime the man starts moaning too so the obvious noises grow even louder.
“Oh, the murderer is being killed too!” I try to win some time for Mike, I admit, it wasn’t the most creative lie I’ve ever said…
“I’m saying it’s not working, it must be contact failure or low battery…” he explains beating the remote against his palm at full strength, creating a counterpart to the sound of the bodies snapping against each other on the screen.
“It’s the episode about the slasher.” I maintain the conversation and then address Mike again. “Then use the power button on the TV device or throw it the fuck out of the window, I don’t care, just do something!!!”
“Ah, great idea!” his face lights up and finally, he walks to the TV and turns it off. I swear, I thought for a second he was going to choose the window version, like Keith Moon. I’m sure he was considering it but found the box too heavy.
“It’s over…“ I transmit to Mrs. Albertson.
“It ended with a cliffhanger, what a shame…” Mike remarks and I can barely suppress my snorts.
“I hope for a happy ending…” I grin, Mike presses his pillow against his face, while the poor lady obviously doesn’t even know what to say. After a few seconds of silent, body-shaking laughter, he rearranges his face muscles and takes the receiver away from me.
“It was a pleasure to meet to you, Mrs. Albertson. Judy is a great girl and as far as we know, Effie too, please, hug her for us. I hope we can meet you in person too, when we get back.”
“I admit, I’m relieved, I want you to know I think you are just darling guys. And now, I call the Notre Dame Hunchbach, as I intended to. Goodnight, Mr. Gossard, Mr. McCready.”
“Goodnight, Mrs. Albertson.” we sing in unison.
After I hang up the phone, we stare at each other silently for long moments, before we burst out laughing hysterically.
***
Great. She’s late. She promised she’d be waiting for me at the bar counter at 9 p.m. I’m doing the third circle in this goddamn place and she’s nowhere to be found. Okay, RCKNDY is actually my favorite place and I was happy when Krisha offered to meet me here to unveil Kelly’s and Susan’s “great idea” about which I only know at this moment that it concerns my photos. The cigarette smoke irritates my throat and some unknown band is in the middle of sound check on the stage, the indistinct guitar noises and the female lead singer’s instructions blast at random moments from the speakers causing me mild heart attack every single time and making the crowd members overyell them. Despite the early hour, the place is packed; I can barely struggle through the mass of flannel-wearing guys and girls. Early hour… what am I talking… now that my lifestyle converges on clinical death, both metaphorically and literally, I usually spend my evenings in front of the TV wearing my pajamas. It’s good Krisha picked this day, Mom is working at that new side job again so I didn’t have to make anything up to prevent her from asking suspicious questions.
I visited the restroom to kill some time but it just made me frustrated all the more since I involuntarily became the audience of a bunch of girls, one of them was gushing about the kissing skills of her current crush… gah, I can’t believe I turned into this sour bitch, just because I’ll end up as a spinster, she’s entitled to have some fun…
Almost fifteen minutes have passed by and she still hasn’t shown up yet. I can’t hang out with Victor either, he’s helping with putting the finishing touches at the sound check. I guess I have to wait then. I pick a bar stool and try to decipher the list of beverages on the wall.
“What can I get for you?” a red-haired bartender girl asks. Her question catches me off-guard, since my good old answer “beer” hasn’t been an option for a while and I didn’t have enough time to consider the alternatives. She’s chewing gum with a bored face, reminding me of a ruminant… a hot ruminant.
“Uhm… I… ugh, I haven’t…” I jabber and she reacts with an impatient eyeroll, the countless bracelets are clinking around her wrist as she runs her fingers through her red mane.
“I’d like to have a virgin mojito.” I utter the first thing that comes to mind. She acknowledges my choice with a scornful scoff… Yeah, in case I haven’t felt embarrassed enough yet, she makes obvious that she’s the sexy and cool femme fatale and I’m a straight-edge cripple in a boring, worn, brown jacket.
“Hey, here you are!” someone grabs my shoulders.
“Me? I’ve been waiting for you for like… hours?” I frown while Krisha settles down on the bar stool next to me and places her beer on the counter.
“Gosh, sorry!” her eyes pop as she checks her wristwatch. “I arrived too early and went to the executive office to meet a few friends.” she points at some people talking in front of a door that probably belongs to the office rooms. “That’s Alex, he runs this place, he’s a good friend of Stone, by the way. And that girl next to him works here too, she’s the girlfriend of Regan.”
I observe the girl she’s talking about, she has a nice, bright smile. Fantastic. Krisha knows everyone here… and I have no idea who these people are, and by the way, I’m nobody.
“Regan?” I furrow my eyebrows. “It’s a unique name, I swear I’ve heard it but I can’t place it…”
“He’s also an old friend of mine. And of Stone of course. You might know his name because he played in Malfunkshun with Andy. I mean Andy Wood.”
“Wood.” we say the name at once. “Of course I know his name, I didn’t grow up in a cave…” I explain, maybe in a sharper tone than intended.
“Oookay… “ she raises both hands defensively. “Actually, Regan almost became the drummer of Mother Love Bone, until they replaced him with Greg Gilmore. They made Stone fire him, I was thinking “okay, that’s it, he’s gonna hate us forever” but somehow, he managed to convince him by using logical reasons. If you ever want to fire a drummer, just call him because he’s your guy.” she nods meaningfully and takes a sip of her beer.
“Based on my sister’s opinion, drummers probably leave the band willingly, after having spent some time with him.” I remark dryly. “Thank you.” I reach for my drink and slide the money towards the phlegmatic redhead. I suppress a smile when I see her realizing with disappointed face that I spared the tip. What was she thinking, seriously?
“Oh yes, I forgot your sister and you sew Stone-shaped voodoo dolls in your spare time. By the way, Regan has played with a guy called Shawn for a few years, he’s a huge talent. The dude is a Prince-freak, which is somehow odd in a city where you can’t make a single step without stomping on a distortion pedal but he’s an awesome singer. AND they are planning to jam with Stone as soon as he gets back. I can give you the address of their rehearsal room in case you want to assassinate him…”
“No, thanks, I already know where he lives so…”
“Right!” she slaps herself in the forehead.
“Anyway, can I finally learn why we’re here?”
“Soon. We’re waiting for someone… I’m going to introduce you to someone… who has a job offer for you!”
“Wow… let me guess… healthcare branch has discovered me and they want me to be the face of some firm’s dialyzer portfolio?” I squint at her as I loudly slurp my cocktail.
“Damn, you nailed it!” she bangs her fist against the counter. “Anyway, I’m not going to tell you anything until she arrives, you need to be punished for the self-deprecating joke.”
“Spank me…” I mumble but my retort stays unnoticed since Krisha stares in an indefinite direction next to me sending an enthusiastic wave towards someone.
“Look, Jer is here too.” she points at the target of her smile and I follow her gaze only to recognize Jerry Cantrell… he’s wearing black jeans and a black leather jacket with a white tee.
“Wait… didn’t… didn’t you mention… I mean, you dated, didn’t you?” I ask confused, trying to form coherent sentences. It’s not going well.
“Yeah, we did.” she wiggles her eyebrows.
“But exes are supposed to hate each other…” I try not to turn around too obviously, so I remove a non-existing hair from the shoulder part of my jacket. While he’s slowly walking through the crowd, I notice he’s holding hands with a long, brown-haired girl. She has a perfect body and she’s probably completely aware of it since the tight leather pants highlight every curves of her. Sure, a 10/10 chick for a 10/10 guy, that’s how world has always worked… His hair is let down… I catch myself smiling, Dad insisted on calling him Rapunzel…
“It was just a summer fling and we realized after a few dates that we weren’t made for each other. So no one got hurt.” she shrugs. “Anyway, we share the building with the management of Alice in Chains so we knew we would run into each other all the time. The music scene of this city it’s like a big, incestuous family so…”
We both crack up.
“Oh no…” she sighs annoyed, staring over me again. I don’t know what’s going on in her head but it must have to do something with another twenty-eight people I’ve never met. “DON’T TURN AROUND!” she yells at me when I try to check the cause of her reaction.
“Why, what’s…?”
“It’s too late, I guess she’s already noticed us… or hasn’t she? Bow your head…” she leans on the counter, letting her hair cover her face.
“What the fuck?”
“I said bow your head… avoid eye contact… shit, I don’t have the nerves for this right now…”
“Krisha? Oh my god, it’s you, I haven’t seen you for ages!” I hear a powerful female voice from behind my back.
“Oh, hi Amber, it’s nice to see you!” Krisha groans with a painful smile, lifting her head and letting herself be pulled in a half-embrace resigned. I have to bite my lips to prevent myself from giggling since she sends a cross-eyed grimace to me over the girl’s shoulder. So she must be Stone’s Amber.
“Hey, are you here with your little friend?”
And that must be me. I involuntarily straighten up as much as I can but despite the high bar stool, I’m still shorter than her in her heels. I wonder if Red peed into these ones too… Now that I’m checking her out properly, I realize somehow she doesn’t belong here. Mini dress, heels, perfect makeup… That’d be Stone’s type?
“Uhm, this is Effie, she’s the sister of the band’s new monitor engineer…”
“Ah, Julie, you see, I know everything…” she knocks on his temple with her index finger a few times. “I’m Stoney’s girlfriend.” she grabs my hand and shakes it aggressively. I don’t correct her, I just exchange a quick look with Krisha, her eyes confirm that it wouldn’t make sense anyway.
“And… are you going to stay for the gig too?” Krisha nods towards the stage after a few moments of awkward silence.
“Oh, no, I’m going partying with my girls, I just checked in, I wanted to say hi to Alex and ask him for a favor. We’re organizing a grunge-themed fashion show and this place would be a perfect place for it.”
“A what?”
Krisha’s face radiates shock and disgust at the same time.
“You know, this grunge thing is blowing up, the firm is about to launch a collection, you know, flannel shirts, jackets, shorts with leggings, so we’re looking for a grungy place to present it…” she explains with huge hand moves. As she begins to explain the details of her brilliant idea, I get immediately distracted. Not only because my mind is desperately trying to ignore this nonsense but because I spot Leather Pants Chick at the same sport were Alex and his colleague were standing a few minutes ago. Only a few seconds pass by until her partner arrives too, he immediately pulls her closer by her hips as he leans against the wall… they engage into a make-out session without hesitation. Jerry digs his fingers into her hair and as things are getting more intense, his hands slowly wander along her back until they reach and firmly grab their destination…
I swear it wasn’t so hot in here when I arrived, I can feel my face is burning, I’m sweating like I was in hell… Yeah, being forced to watch a hot guy smooching with a girl who isn’t you but in exchange, is much prettier than you, that’s how I imagine the first circle of hell. I can barely peel myself out of my jacket, my elbow gets stuck when Amber grabs its sleeve. I’m still a little dazed-off and stare at her expressionlessly while I’m trying to pick up the threads of conversation.
“...exactly like this one, thrift clothes are so trendy now, where did you get this one?”
She shakes the sleeve of my jacket impatiently, making me realize that’s what she’s talking about. Should I tell her the truth? That it’s not from a thrift shop, that it’s original, that Judy and I pooled the money we earned at our summer jobs together and made an agreement about taking turns on wearing it six years ago?
“I can’t… can’t remember…” I manage an effortless answer.
“You have a great taste, we three should do a thrift store tour together.” she rants on.
“Totally.” Krisha tries to seem enthusiastic but she rather reminds me of a snarling serial killer.
“Okay, I have to go, oh my god, I’m late and I haven’t even talked to Alex. We could hang out in the city next week, call me, Krish! And bring your new friend too!” she winks at me. “See you, later girls!” she finally leaves us alone, the quick tapping of heels echoes in my head even after she has disappeared behind the office door. Krisha grabs her glass and drinks its content for one sip.
“Ah, I feel much better now.” she sighs. “I’m afraid my phone is about to die. I may not be able to make phone calls for a while.”
I snort into my drink.
“I must say, she’s not the girl I’d imagine as Stone’s girlfriend.”
“Trust me, she’s not the girl whom anyone would imagine as his girlfriend. But seeing them together is always like a free circus ticket, it’s pretty funny, especially when you have coke and popcorn too.”
“Sooo… where’s the mysterious person who we’re waiting for?” I look around, although I have no clue what physical characteristics I should look for, I don’t even know if we’re talking about a man or a woman. As my gaze slowly wanders around the room, I admit to myself unwillingly, that I exactly know what I’m looking for. Long, blonde hair, black leather jacket and a white shirt. The realization makes me blush, I feel like in those good old high school days, trying to casually encounter my current crush who doesn’t even know I exist. Why am I like this all the time? Why? I’m such an idiot…
“Okay, I check Alex’s office, maybe we misunderstood each other and she went in without me noticing her. And I’m sure Alex needs some spiritual support too, the recovery will be tough for him. Do you wanna come?”
“No, I… I’d rather wait here.” I answer quickly, flushing, I’m stupid, stupid, stupid… “So it’s a she?” I shout after Krisha but she just waves me off laughing.
So… what was I thinking? I could have join her and meet her cool friends but I chose to drink here alone, not that I don’t feel lonely enough. And I ran out of drink in the meantime too… I want to procrastinate the next round until the other, friendlier bartender shows up again but unfortunately, the red-haired demon spots my empty glass and elbows on the counter opposite me with a challenging, patronizing smile.
“May I bring you a next lemonade?”
I’m about to snap back but a pleasant male voice over my head makes me change my mind.
“One more of this, whatever it is. And the lady is my guest.”
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Part 2 of the Marinette x Peter soulmate oneshot
Part 1
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“And here,” the grouchy man in front of her held out a ring, making his daughter raise an eyebrow. His grey-blue eyes rolled almost to the back of his skull at the silent communication. “Using Kaalki for all your traveling is extremely inefficient. He’s eating all my sugar cubes.”
“You can just conjure up more,” Marinette countered, smirking in amusement as she took the sling ring from him. She was seventeen now, and had been visiting her father about once a month for the past few months, almost a year, since she first met him after he made a deal with Dormammu and essentially saved their entire reality.
“Relying on another living being for your teleportation is stupid,” her father argued, crossing his arms. “It delays you. You might not be the best at using a sling ring, but I made sure you can operate it reliably. This way, you always have an option for a near instantaneous escape.”
Marinette just snorted and slipped on the ring, right next to the silver one that sat on her right thumb. Her father didn’t approve of her wielding both Creation and Destruction at once, especially considering the fact that he knew firsthand how much energy it took to wield something with the power of an Infinity Stone, but she still did it regardless.
Adrien needed a break from the Miraculous after his father was arrested, and Marinette was only making sure that the two most sought after Miraculous were as safe as possible until she could find someone to trust as a new Cat. She wasn’t about to give up being Ladybug anytime soon just so she could retire the ring.
“Whatever you say, Dad,” she said cheerfully, ignoring his huff of annoyance at her dismissive response. Quickly leaning in, she pecked him on the cheek and jogged backwards. “See you next month!” She waved happily. Seeing the slight blush on her father’s cheeks and the way he stubbornly tried to pretend like he didn’t like the familial affection at all and was not at all a doting father figure who spoiled his daughter rotten (he was), made Marinette burst into laughter even as she waved goodbye to Wong and left out of the front door of the New York Sanctum.
She would get some shopping in the fashion district done first, and then use the sling ring to get back to Paris. Kaalki could use the rest, not that she would ever admit it to her dad.
She was browsing a high-end tailor, looking at the suits they had on display, when the door opened. She didn’t bother looking back to see who had entered, hoping that whatever rich client just came in would not question the little Asian teenager critically analyzing the merchandise. She had to be up to date on both male and female fashion, after all, and her suit construction could always use improvement. She was inspecting the way that a certain collar was stitched when the voices of the two people who had entered finally caught her attention.
“But I don’t need it,” a younger voice argued, sounding as if the owner of said voice was pouting. “And you shouldn’t spend that kind of money on me.”
“You should know by now that money doesn’t matter to me, kid. Besides, this is more efficient. Instead of wasting energy punching a guy in the face and possibly getting hurt, you just press this button and run. Help will be on the way, and if your aim is good then the guy’ll be tazed. Everyone wins.”
“Mister Staaaarrrrkkkk,” the younger voice, a boy Marinette realized once she looked up, whined. “You’re already getting me a probably super expensive suit because you won’t let me wear my old one to your party—“
“Your old one is a mess, no offense, and the pants are too short.”
“—That’s not the point, Mister Stark.”
“And anyone coming with me to my own party is gonna look fantastic.”
“You went to a party last year in an Iron Man t-shirt under a suit jacket and sneakers, Mister Stark.”
“Okay, but I look fantastic in anything. Have you seen me? I’m gorgeous.”
“Are you saying he doesn’t look good in anything?” Marinette chose to finally speak up, her mouth already curled up into a wide smile. They reminded her of how she acted with her father. Not even the fact that she was talking to Tony goddamned Stark could make her back down now that she had seen him acting so paternal and soft.
The famous engineer gaped at her for a second, and the boy next to him crossed his arms and smiled wickedly.
“Yeah, Mister Stark. Are you saying I’m not gorgeous?”
“What—I—this is betrayal. Ganging up on a guy is not fair play,” the billionaire protested childishly, pointing to each of them as if he expected that to be intimidating. It just came off fatherly. “You know what? Fine. Go to my gala in one of your science pun t-shirts, it’s not like I care anyway since I’ll be doing the same thing. We can even wear the exact same shirt if you want. But when Pepper kills us both, it’s your fault.”
Both teenagers laughed at the poor guy’s dramatics. The teenaged designer decided to introduce herself, walking over and holding out her hand to the boy. “I’m Marinette. I didn’t know Tony Stark had a son.”
The boy instantly went beet red, and started stammering. Marinette winced, feeling bad since she knew exactly how that felt. She was usually on the opposite end of an interaction like this, after all.
“Dad’s not my Stark. I mean Mister Dad isn’t— I mean—“
“He’s my intern,” Tony saved him, clapping a firm hand on the boy’s upper arm to try and ground him. Marinette furrowed her brows, noticing how Stark had carefully avoided touching his “intern’s” (she wasn’t buying that story for a second) shoulder. But the boy had instantly relaxed, so Marinette tried not to think too hard about it.
Finally, he took Marinette’s hand and shook it. “I’m Peter. Peter Parker. The intern.”
Marinette was about to reply, but she felt her shoulders start to tingle. Then a flash of bright light erupted, and almost blinded them. Peter and Marinette just stared at each other for a moment before movement caught their eyes, and made both of them stumble back in shock.
“You have two mini-me’s on your shoulders!” Peter cried, pointing to Marinette.
“No, you have two mini-ME’s on YOUR shoulders!” She shot back, pointing to him. Sure enough, he had a disturbingly Kwami-looking mini-Marinette hovering over one of his shoulders dressed in all blue. Over his other shoulder was an equally chibi, Kwami-looking version of Ladybug. Domino mask and all.
Marinette stumbled back a few extra steps when her own floating… things… flew in front of her face. One was clearly a mini Peter, also dressed in all blue just like the miniature version of herself that Peter had. But the other one was a mini—
“Oh my god,” she whispered, looking straight at Peter—no, at her soulmate— as her floating versions of him returned back to float over her shoulders. “You’re—“
“Shh!” He held a finger over his lips. Marinette shut her mouth, realizing a little too late that she had just been about to expose his secret identity. Big no-no, and she knew it.
“I’m sorry, but what the fuck?” Tony suddenly spoke up, looking at the both of them like they had grown second heads. “You guys just started freaking out after Peter introduced himself, and I’m confused.”
“Wait, you didn’t see that?” Peter demanded, staring at his mentor in disbelief. “The bright flash of light, the floating anime-fairy versions of ourselves floating over each other’s shoulders, you didn’t see ANY of that?”
Confusion melted away into realization, which transformed into mischief on Tony’s face. “Ohh, I see what’s going on. You’re soulmates.”
“Oh my god we’re soulmates,” Peter breathed, looking over to a still-shell shocked and frozen Marinette. “I just met my soulmate. Oh my god.”
“Mon Dieu,” Marinette couldn’t help slipping back into French. She began to ramble in her native language; “I can’t believe this. What are the floating things supposed to be anyway? I thought the marks on our shoulders were our Marks, that we could just feel extreme pain from one another. This doesn’t make sense. What does this mean? Did our Bond evolve once we met? What can we do now? Why can’t soul bonds respect secret identities? Oh Kwami I have to tell my parents and that is going to be a nightmare and—“
“Oh my god, she’s just as bad as you,” Tony remarked, impressed as he watched the little Asian girl ramble on in rapid French. Luckily, his title was Genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, emphasis on Genius, and he was fluent enough to keep up with what she said.
“Relax,” he interrupted gently in the same language, shocking her into paying attention and stopping her rambling. “We can always get Peter’s suit another day, this is more important. So how about we go back to the Tower—“
Wrong thing to say.
“Avenger’s Tower? The home to all of the primary active Avengers, the headquarters for the New York branch of Stark Industries? The single most intimidating building in the whole city, THAT tower?” Marinette rambled, still in French, with absolute horror written all over her face. “I would pass out before we got inside.”
Tony glanced over at a very confused but worried Peter, who didn’t understand a word of what was being said but could clearly read the distress on his soulmate’s face. “She’s your other half, alright,” he told him in English before looking back to the girl. “Where do you want to go, then?”
Marinette opened her mouth, but the mini-Peter flew in front of her face and gave her cheek a hug. She blinked, feeling bracing coolness coming from where the pixie-creature touched her skin. It brought her back to the present, and allowed her to take a deep breath and calm down. “Thanks,” she said to the little thing, cupping her hand around it gently to try and simulate a hug of her own before looking back at the boys in front of her (because let’s be real, Stark was only a “man” half the time and a “man-child” the rest).
Finally lucid enough to switch back to English, Marinette answered Tony. “I actually came here to visit my dad. My biological father, technically. We can go to his place.”
Sure, he’d be annoyed at her at first, but once Marinette explained he would calm down. Probably.
Tony agreed, and led her out to the sports car they had taken to get over here.
“Good thing Peter talked me out of bringing a two-seater, huh?”
—*—*—*—*—*
“Don’t touch that,” Marinette warmed, leaping forward to keep Peter’s hands off of a potentially dangerous magical artifact. She would be more annoyed if Peter didn’t look suitably guilty, or have a near permanent sparkle of wonder and awe on his face from seeing everything in the Sanctum.
“This is like being in Harry Potter! I’m Hufflepuff by the way, what about you?” The hyper boy asked her, his excitement at all the magic surrounding him overruling his natural shyness. “But for real, the special effects you guys have is ridiculous. And actually putting up a three-dimensional projector outside to hide the true appearance of the building? How much money do you have?”
“For the last time, Peter,” Marinette said slowly, crossing her arms with barely disguised amusement. “No projectors. No technology. This is all legitimate magic.”
“Legitimate magic doesn’t exist,” he shot back with an eye roll. Marinette just raised her eyebrows.
“You regularly visit a tower and mentor with a guy who works with a Norse god, a literal witch, a large green buff guy, and an Android brought to life by magic.”
“...Okay, But…”
Marinette would also be a lot more annoyed at how hard Peter was to convince, if she didn’t know full well that she got the better end of the deal. Her father was the one in charge of Stark, which was undoubtedly the shorter end of the stick. Already the billionaire had activated five ancient artifacts, gotten bodily pulled away by Strange from another four, and her father had finally decided to just teleport the mechanic away when Peter wasn’t looking. Marinette didn’t want to know what her dad decided was necessary to convince Stark that magic was real and he should shut up and stop acting superior.
Her dad was a hypocrite, she knew it. She also knew he was probably having the time of his life doing to Stark what was probably done to him when he was first introduced to Sorcery.
By the time Strange had returned with a shaken up and very annoyed Tony Stark (looking like a very smug cat as even the Cloak preened on his shoulders), Marinette had already introduced Peter to the Kwami and teleported him to all of the seven wonders of the world.
For some reason, it was her ladybug transformation, of all things, that finally proved to Peter that magic was real. Something about magical girls and anime..? Marinette couldn’t completely follow his rapid rambling. She was good at English, and had mastered more vocabulary than most native speakers because of her constant reading of medical and scientific journals, but she still wasn’t great at deciphering when people spoke too quickly.
“All done, Dad?” She asked cheerfully, earning a half-hearted glare from the billionaire next to him. Her father just smirked.
“Indeed. Now, what was the reason you came back to the Sanctum without warning with two outsiders, one of which is most definitely going to give me recurring migraines?” He asked, eyes trailing over as the mechanic huffed and joined his mentee (son). Then, the sorcerer’s eyes landed on the four floating miniatures of the two teens in the room. “Oh. You have awakened your Bond.”
“Yeah,” Marinette agreed, looking over at Peter. Seeing a mini-her and mini-Ladybug just swinging their legs happily as they sat on his shoulders was surreal. Then again, his mini-selves were attracting his own, much more exasperated, attention. His mini-him was just sleeping on his stomach on Marinette’s right shoulder, while his mini-Spider-Man was doing a two-finger handstand and trying to impress the Cloak.
The Cloak clapped two of its corners in support, to which Strange pretended not to notice.
“We were, well I was anyway, hoping you could explain,” Marinette told her father. “My magic doesn’t really help with analyzing non-Miraculous things, and soulbonds are completely out of my expertise. With how I’m supposed to be back in Paris already, I figured getting a crash course from you as to what to expect would be better. Peter and I probably won’t be able to hang out in person very much until school let’s out,” she explained.
“Wait, you have magic too?” Tony asked, nose scrunched up. Meanwhile, Peter’s eyes were wide.
“You’re from Paris? What are you doing her—oh my god did you teleport? Like how you took me to see the Sphinx?!” He asked, bouncing up and down on his feet. Marinette smiled at his enthusiasm, liking how he wasn’t as opposed to magic as his father figure certainly was.
“Yes, I teleported. I visit my father every month, not that my parents know.”
“Her mother and step father only know that she calls me, and they believe that I occasionally fly over to visit her,” Stephen filled in casually as he flattened parts of his uniform and just generally moved his hands around to disguise the trembling in them as subtly as possible. They had gotten better over time, with him performing simple physical therapy exercises every day and his magic helping, but he no longer desired to get rid of the damage entirely. He knew he no longer needed to. “But they know nothing about magic, or the fact that she occasionally parades across Paris as a spotted heroine.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Tony asked, turning to his son— mentee’s— Bonded with his eyebrows raised high on his head. “Why did I never hear about a hero in Paris? Trust me, I look.”
“And I am very good at hiding,” Marinette retorted, her eye roll showing very clearly who she was related to. “The magic of the Miraculous helped. The super villain that used to plague Paris, Gabriel Agreste, used to wield the Miraculous of Transmission. The butterfly,” she told the boys easily. “His powers allowed him to control the transmission of information outside of Paris, though it was more of a… how do you say…” Marinette paused, allowing her father to chime in;
“Passive ability,” The older magic user offered up. “He didn’t want the Avengers or anyone else to interfere, so his abilities passively controlled transmission of Paris news so that it didn’t reach anyone that might bright that to pass. It helps that Marinette’s own powers include completely reversing the damage caused by a Miraculous. Every time the Eiffel Tower was knocked over or turned to ash, she brought it back as if nothing had happened,” he explained. His daughter nodded.
“So any rumors of Paris having a villain would probably have been seen as jokes,” Marinette told him gently, her smile lopsided. “Even the Ladyblog, a now defunct website that used to cover all the attacks, has received a lot of comments from international viewers about how good the special effects were or how intrigued they were by the ‘show’s premise,’” she admitted, using finger quotations for emphasis.
“But you got him, right? The bad guy?” Peter asked, looking straight into Marinette’s eyes. She giggled and nodded.
“Oh yeah. Turns out he was the father of the guy I had a crush on, so,” she made a face. “Not the best situation ever. But his son was also secretly my superhero partner the whole time, which made the situation both better and worse in several ways.”
“Oh hey, me too!” Peter said excitedly, his face also squishing into something uncomfortable. “Minus the superhero partner part. But a while back, I took down this guy, the Vulture, who turned out to be the father of this girl I liked.”
“It’s the worst, isn’t it?”
“Oh yeah.” He agreed.
“Okay, back to the topic at hand,” Strange interrupted, earning a sigh of relief from the only other adult in the room.
“Thank Science, I did not want to hear another word about teenage romance,” Tony clapped his hands together. “So, what’s up with their Connection, Doc?”
After briefly closing his eyes for patience, Doctor Strange raised one slightly shaking hand and summoned up a few glowing symbols. Muttering under his breath, he walked a loose circle around the two teenagers and bathed them in the shining orange light. After about a minute of this he stepped back with a hum of thought and a single raised eyebrow. His lips quirking into a disturbingly amused smirk did not help Marinette or Peter’s nerves.
Both naturally nervous teens squirmed impatiently.
“What few people know is that the Universe actually has a name for each type of essence link, or what most people know colloquially as a soul bond,” he explained, purposefully sounding pompous to annoy Tony, who scoffed. “The name for your bond is ‘Shoulder Angels’ and I believe it is supposed to mimic the classic devil and angel on the shoulder trope,” he crossed his arms with far too much joy in his eyes. “The blue one is your civilian self, which embodies everything normal and relatively healthy. It keeps you grounded in reality and helps you through healthy pain and emotions. The red one is your hero alter ego, which represents whimsy, encourages creativity, and will help you through toxic situations. You can call it your personal hero, really. Whenever you are experiencing toxic emotions, a dangerous situation, or anything similar, it will contact your Linked partner and allow them to comfort you by astral projecting them to you or, in an extreme situation, actually teleporting them to you. Other than that and their base characteristics, they have simplified versions of your own personalities.”
“So, the drawings on our shoulders,” Marinette said slowly. “Are they still there, or did they turn into these…” she looked at the little things again. “Fairy things?”
Stephen smiled proudly. “Always asking the right questions. Yes, the symbols were just a placeholder and altogether weaker version since you had not met in person. They are gone now, and only the two of you or experienced magic users can see your essence sprites. Although, once you practice with them you will be able to show them to people you trust. But that will take time.”
“I see…” Marinette looked over at Peter. “So, uh. Hi. I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and sometimes Paris’s superhero Ladybug. Want my phone number?”
—*—*—*—*—*
“Oh come on, a Churro is totally a real pastry,” Peter, currently Spider-Man, argued with the Marinette-sprite on his shoulder. The little chibi puffed out it’s cheeks and tapped it’s toe on the open air before pointing to a bakery that had good looking cookies and cupcakes in its store window. “Oh no, those are expensive and I’m broke. This might be cheap street-churro, but it’s good and I’m eating it. See?” He crunched a giant bite of his fried snack. “Mmmm.”
Mini-Bug on his other shoulder just sighed heavily in defeat.
“Wow, I didn’t know you spoke to yourself Spidey. Did ya go crazy over the weekend?” A familiar voice asked from behind him, making Spider-Man groan and shove the rest of his churro into his mouth. After he swallowed, he stood and turned to the new figure on the roof behind him.
“No, Wade. I met my soulmate, and now we have little mini-us-es on our shoulders. I have mini-hers and she has mini-me’s. Mini-her number one is trying to convince me that churros are not real pastries,” he jabbed his thumb at the one he was talking about. “Mini-her number two is just trying to get me to eat more healthy, which is not working either.”
“Oh wow, I have mini-me’s too! But they are just me, not my soulmate.”
“Do you have two bonds?” Spidey asked, tilting his head. Wade Wilson, also known as Deadpool, shook his head.
“Nah. My soulmate and I had a wound sharing bond.”
Peter opened and closed his mouth, deciding to just pull his mask back down over his mouth and ignore that statement to the best of his ability. He had seen Wade literally torn in half and shot in the head way more times than he could count, and he doubted Wade’s soulmate could heal like he could.
“So what you’re telling me,” Spidey said slowly, defaulting to his usual way of handling heavy topics. “Is that you’re just crazy.”
Wade pulled out a gun, and Spider-Man just laughed as he jumped off the side of the building to swing away. Mini-Marinette glared at him, but Mini-Ladybug was laughing right alongside him. He grinned at both of them behind his mask. Yeah, they couldn’t talk and weren’t replacements for the real thing, but it was nice having their company.
—*—*—*—*—*
That’s all I got for now. I might add a couple scenes here and there if I get inspiration, but for now this is it. Hope it’s okay.
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Just a Memory
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/205e3cdc53b6f495a47885ee2176bd3d/8d2df8bbf84def06-9a/s540x810/4cdaf37e671ca83f209e70e6493276b5deba3fff.jpg)
Gene’s body moved fluidly, rocking back and forth over his wife as they made love. The warm light on the bedside table illuminated Betsy beautifully, and he couldn’t help but keep his eyes on hers. It had been weeks since they were intimate. Gene enlisted in the Naval Air Service and was stationed in D.C. He would come home on a pass when he could depending on whether or not he was needed. In many ways, the time apart wound up strengthening his relationship with Betsy. They had hit troubled waters a while back when Judy had entered their lives:
While filming For Me & My Gal, it was widely speculated among gossip columns - which didn’t take long to reach the people they knew - that Judy and Gene shared more than just a close friendship. Their affair did indeed go on both during and for a little while after filming. The love they shared, however, was real and for many reasons, it scared both of them to death. Both were married, and Gene had a new baby at home. He loved Betsy, and always had but there was something different about Judy. Judy aroused not only his body but his soul. She could keep him in a trance whenever they were together, one that would linger for hours after she had left. It brought him to his knees when he had to make the decision to take the moral high ground, parting ways with Judy to focus on his family. Begrudgingly, Judy let him off the end of her line. While Gene’s marriage was thriving, however, hers had faded to dust. It wasn’t long after that that her and David separated, and she found herself single and in the snakepit of Hollywood.
Though Gene’s marriage was thriving, it was no easy path. One does not simply move on from Judy Garland. Her memory lingered in his mind, her voice would come through his car radio every night on his drive home from the studio, they were busy on opposite ends of the lot shooting two different films yet would somehow always manage to stop by the commissary at the exact same time. It was as though he was drawn to her like a magnet, like there was some kind of invisible string attaching them both at the waist and no matter how many times he tried to cut it, it wouldn’t break.
It took enlisting in the Naval Air Service for the pain of missing her to finally subside. Even then, it was still there, it just became easier to deal with. His mind was elsewhere and he began missing Betsy more and more, every day that he was away. The love letters he once used to exchange with Judy, he was now exchanging with his wife. Her letters were the highlight of his day, he craved to hear how Kerry was getting along and Betsy never failed to include photos.
His body buckled on top of hers and he leaned down, placing a soft kiss against her cheek.
“Alright, that settles it… you’re staying in D.C. indefinitely,” Betsy panted with a sly smile.
“What do you mean?” He rolled off of her, pulling a cigarette off the nightstand.
“The way you make love when you’re home on a pass, I’ve been married to you for years, I’ve never felt anything like it,” she grinned.
Gene laughed, taking a drag from his cigarette before turning his expression serious, “There are no women there, Bets… I only have men to look at, day in and day out, you’ll be lucky if we leave this bed all weekend.”
“Good,” she softly smiled, dragging her arm over his waist and cuddling into his chest, “except…” she began.
“What?” He asked, blowing another cloud of smoke from his lips.
“There’s… a chance I may have… accidentally… on purpose… told everybody you were home this weekend,” she bit her thumbnail.
Gene sighed, “Where are we going?” He rolled his eyes playfully.
“A bunch of your pals from the studio are going out to Ciro’s tomorrow night, I told them we’d be there to have a drink and a few laughs.”
“That doesn’t sound too terrible,” he smiled.
“They’re very excited to see you.”
Gene’s curiosity peaked, he stubbed out his cigarette before scooching back down on the bed, “who’s ‘they’?”
“Oh, you know, everybody… Pete, Frank, Phil…”
“I see,” he lowered his eyes, “Well, it’s a date then. I guess I’ll make an exception for them,” he grinned, rolling over and kissing her passionately.
The next evening, once Kerry was settled with the babysitter, Gene and Betsy made a swift exit, heading towards Beverly Hills. He drove with one hand on the steering wheel and one holding her fingers between his. Betsy couldn’t help but smile at her husband’s affections. She couldn’t remember the last time he was so attentive to her.
Gene took Betsy’s coat along with his and checked it before they headed into the club. Immediately, his eyes were drawn to a big table in the corner with a crowd of familiar faces shouting to him. He flashed that charming smile of his and with Betsy on his arm, made his way to the group.
“Well, look who the cat dragged in!” Phil Silvers teased, jumping from his chair.
“Hey you big lug!” Gene matched his excitement.
“Good to see ya! How the hell have you been?” Phil pulled out a chair for him and before Gene could answer, a cute blonde waitress appeared behind him looking for his drink order. He ordered a beer for himself and a glass of Chardonnay for Betsy.
“So they decided to let you free for a few days, huh?”
“Oh, the National Guard couldn’t keep me from coming home, my friend!” He said, putting his arm around Betsy.
“Well, you look better than ever! The Navy agrees with you!” Lucille Ball chimed in, exhaling smoke from her cigarette.
“Thank you,” he bowed his head.
“So what’ve they been keeping you busy with out East?” Frank asked.
“Well, it was a fight at first but I was stationed in the photographic section of the Air Service, I’m in charge of writing and directing various projects, in fact I just put the finishing touches on a training video I’ve been working before I came home. It’s called Combat Fatigue Irritability. The title is self explanatory…” He trailed off, it was a particularly heavy piece of material.
“Wow, you just can’t get away from the camera can you? You run off to join the Navy and you’re still stuck making pictures!”
“Now, come on, he can’t help it with a face like that!” Phil tossed his arm around his neck, pulling him in to give him a noogie. When Gene managed to break free, he cradled the base of his beer, twirling it around in his hand as he continued to laugh. The group had trailed off into another conversation with Betsy and when Gene looked up again, his wide smile quickly vanished.
There she was. There she fucking was. He wondered as he and Betsy were getting ready to leave if he would see Judy tonight. Ciro’s was practically a second home to her when they were together, he knew there would be a solid chance they’d meet again. But as prepared as he thought he was to see her, he couldn’t have imagined it would feel this way. His eyes were glued to her as the rest of the world seemingly faded away and she walked in slow motion with the arm of another gentleman around her waist. Her flowing hair - which was much darker than he remembered it, a little shorter too - bouncing at her shoulders, that unmistakable laugh echoing in his mind. His eyes drifted out of curiosity to the man who held her by the waist, it was Joe Mankiewicz, a relatively well known writer and producer at the studio. He was also known to be a bit of a leech... and to be a bit married. Gene could feel his jaw tighten as he curled his hands into a fist under the table when he saw Joe’s hand slide further down Judy’s backside as he led her to the bar.
That’s not my beautiful girlfriend, he thought to himself.
She is not mine anymore, he repeated in his head.
Betsy glanced over at her husband, immediately noticing his transfixed stare. When she looked in the direction he was, her own heart fell to her stomach. Judy Garland was a name she had heard all too often over the last two years. When the gossip columnists began writing about their suspected affair, everyone on the block was calling her. She couldn’t bring herself to believe the rumours but something about Gene’s demeanour changed when she was around. He became an empty shell when he was at home, even going so far as to flinch whenever Betsy would touch him. At the time, she chalked it up to the heavy pressure the studio was putting on him. They were both new to Hollywood, he wasn’t used to the schedules he kept. With that in mind, Gene managed to convince her the rumours were just that, a rumour. When Gene began to return to his normal self, she dared question it. She had been waiting for him to look at her again the way he used to, with his devoted love and admiration. But his expression now was one she had never seen before.
“Mr. Kelly, Earth to Kelly…” Frank interjected, waving his hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his reverie.
“What?”
“You ok? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Frank turned to look where he had been and when he saw Judy, it all came together. Frank was one of the only people who knew of their affair. It wasn’t his choice though, he had walked in on them fooling around in an empty rehearsal hall. From that day forward, he had acted as a scapegoat and alibi when he was needed, and tonight he delivered just the same. He glanced over at Betsy and immediately drew her attention away from Gene, making small talk about FDR being reelected president.
Gene sat stone faced, holding his beer in his hands. His eyes had lost sight of Judy but she was racing a mile a minute in his mind. The large nightclub suddenly felt like a tiny room with the walls slowly caving in. He frantically pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and when he felt Betsy’s hand land on his thigh under the table, he leapt up from his chair.
“What’s wrong?” She asked, knowing full well what the problem was but choosing to ignore the screaming voice in her head.
“I’m just going out for a smoke, it’s hot in here, isn’t it hot in here? I’ll be back…” He explained, darting for the entrance to the back patio.
He leaned over the railing, allowing the smoke to fall freely from his lips. The wind blew unseasonably hot that night, he could feel it stinging his face as he looked out onto Sunset Blvd. Gene had dated his fair share of women before Betsy came along, he had experience with ex girlfriends… but this, for some strange reason, felt like uncharted territory. What was this hold she had on him?
“I thought that was you,” her voice emanated from behind him. He closed his eyes for a moment before he could muster up the courage to turn around.
“Surprise,”
Judy took a few steps closer, placing herself in front of the railing beside him. She fished her own cigarette out of her purse and when she struggled with her lighter, Gene flicked his, placing the flame at the end of her smoke.
“Thanks,”
Gene nodded, shoving it back in his pocket.
“So what’s your excuse?” He asked.
“My what?”
“Your excuse for smoking outside. What did you tell him?”
Judy glanced down at her hands that gripped the wooden handrail, “Same as yours, needed some air.”
“How do you know that was mine?”
“Because I know you,”
“Joseph Mankiewicz, huh?” He said, staring forward.
“Stop it.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“I know a judgmental tone when I hear one. You have absolutely no right, so don’t you dare say another word.”
“You know he’s married, right?”
Judy paused for a moment before she answered him, “That never stopped you.”
“Touche,”
“Besides, you know nothing about him or us so why don’t you stay out of it?”
“Maybe I’m out of line here, Judy, but just what exactly are you doing?”
“What are you talking about?”
“With him? I know who Joe is, I know YOU know who Joe is, are you… are you together? What is that?” He asked, gesturing towards the door that led back into the club.
“He loves me, he promised to marry me just as soon as he knows his wife is taken care of. She’s sick, you know.”
“Yes, I know. That’s so fucked up, Judy. You’re so fucked up.”
“Remember when you said you might be out of line?” She sneered.
“Do you truly believe anything he says?”
“Why do you care?! Why do you care if I believe what he says? Why do you care if we’re together?”
“I don’t… know, I don’t know why I care. I just, I fucking hate that guy and I know you’re better than that, you’re better than him. This is not who you are.”
“Who am I, darling?”
Gene looked away, turning his attention to another couple slow dancing to the faint music coming from inside on the other end of the patio.
“Look at me!”
Slowly, he turned to meet her gaze, “I don’t know who you are anymore, Garland. How could I?”
“Look, I’m happy for you. I know you’ve been getting along with Betsy, that was your goal wasn’t it? To put your family back together, and you have. I’m so fucking happy for you, I could just vomit. Now why don’t you give me the same respect, huh?”
“I’m trying,” he replied softly, “I got over you, Judy. I’m over you.”
Judy leaned in closer to him, her chin nearly resting on his shoulder, “No you’re not.”
Just then, Betsy came out onto the patio in search of her husband. The door swinging open caused them both to turn around.
“Betsy!” Judy exclaimed enthusiastically with a wide smile.
“Hello…” she said softly, her eyes locked on Gene.
“So nice to see you again!” The over delighted tone in Judy’s voice made Gene wince.
“You too,” she said, accepting a half hug.
“Well, listen, I better get back to my date. Lovely chatting with you again, Gene. I’ll see you around, huh?”
“Yeah,” he said, facing forward again.
Betsy replaced Judy at the railing and she looked at her husband, searching for answers she didn’t want to hear. Gene took the last drag from his cigarette before flicking it over the balcony, feeling Betsy’s inquisitive gaze.
“Shall we go back inside?” He asked, ignoring the tension between them.
“I think I’d like to go home,”
“Go home? Bets, we just got here barely an hour ago.”
“If you don’t mind…”
Gene and Betsy drove down Sunset, heading towards Rodeo. Betsy leaned forward, drowning the silence by turning on the radio. She fiddled with the dial until she landed on a rerun of a Bob Hope comedy special. As soon as she leaned back in the seat, Judy’s voice came through the speaker singing I Never Knew I Could Love Anybody the Way I’m Loving You. In true Garland fashion, she was following them again. Hovering over their marriage like an ominous cloud. Betsy glanced at her husband and immediately noticed that jaw tighten again before he changed the channel.
“Why did you turn that off?” She asked, accusingly.
“I’ve heard it before,” he replied with a blank tone.
The air was silent between them for a moment.
“Did you sleep with her?” She blurted.
“What?” Gene almost swerved into the oncoming lane.
“Gene!”
“I’m sorry, why did you ask me that?”
“Because I’m not daft, Gene. I wasn’t born yesterday. I saw the way she looked at you, and even worse, the way you looked at her. You’re a different person when she’s around. I don’t like you when she’s around, and I don’t like you right now.”
“How am I different, Bets? Because I wanted to leave the club?”
“You haven’t looked me in the eye since I saw you standing outside with her. You’re afraid to, you’re hiding.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,”
“Listen, things have been going really well between us over the last year, I’m happy with you now and there was a time when I wasn’t. I don’t want to move backwards, Gene… I don’t want to be scared of coming in second anymore.”
“Betsy! You’re not second, I thought we were past this. I thought you didn’t believe those damn Hopper columns.”
“I will only ask you once more and then I promise to drop this… Did you or did you not have an affair with her?”
Gene thought for a moment, torn over his answer. He pulled the car over, turned off the ignition and looked her straight in the eye.
“No,” he said defiantly, “I did not sleep with her, we did not have an affair.”
Betsy smiled relieved, placing her hand on his cheek. His skin felt hot to the touch. The accusations of their affair took him back to a painful time that he wanted to remain in the past.
“Thank you,”
“Can we go home now?” He asked, placing his hand on top of hers.
When Gene returned to Washington, he continued to repair his relationship with Betsy but it wasn’t long before Betsy began to pull back. Her letters to him became further and further apart, and with a full workload, it was easy for Gene to get swept up in his duties. He couldn’t pay attention to what was happening back home, there was only so much he could do from afar.
One evening, he returned to his barracks with a letter in hand. He hadn’t bothered to look at the envelope, he assumed it was from Betsy and he was beyond tired after working a fourteen hour stretch. He flopped down on the cot and tore the letter open, tossing the envelope onto the blanket beside him. His heavy eyes flew wide open when he noticed the slanted handwriting he was all too familiar with.
Gene,
I agonized over writing this letter. What can I say? Where do I begin?
I know how you love to be right about everything – so I’m sure you’ll get a kick out of knowing you were right about everything regarding Joe. He doesn’t love me. Did I ever really love him? I don’t think so. Know how I know? I’m not all that upset. When you broke up with me, I cried for days. I barely shed a tear for Joe. What does that mean? I shouldn’t be asking you that. That’s not fair… I know our ship has sailed. Remember when I told you you weren’t over me? I know that you are. I know you’ve moved on. I can see it in your eyes, I could see it in the way you looked at me that night. It’s me, Gene. I’m the one who couldn’t move on. I think about you every time the phone rings, I think about you every time I play a record, you’re a constant white noise in my head and I don’t know how to stop it. I wish I could turn it off, but I can’t. I meant it when I said I was happy for you, darling, truly I did. But when do I get to be happy? When is it my turn? If only you could show me how.
Gene’s grip tightened on the letter. He turned the paper over expecting there to be more, but the sheet was blank. He flipped it back over, raising an eyebrow at its abrupt end. She always signed off on her letters.
Arriving home after another late night at Ciro’s with the girls, Judy trudged up to her bedroom. Tossing her shall onto the chaise lounge, she walked over to her vanity to grab a pack of cigarettes before changing into her night clothes. Her eyes were immediately drawn to an empty spot on the desk just below her mirror. The spot she was sure she had left the letter she wrote to Gene. She dropped the pack of cigarettes and her heart plummeted into her stomach. She tore through the vanity, checking in every little drawer and under a pile of magazines she kept. It was nowhere to be found. She had a few too many to drink that night at Ciro’s and for a moment she couldn’t remember if maybe she had moved it. She darted downstairs, tearing through the living room, in her bookshelves, on the fireplace. It had to be here somewhere she thought.
“Miss Garland?” Her housekeeper who often stayed the night to keep Judy company came in, barely awake, “What are you doing?”
Judy swung around, trying to remain composed, “Uhm.. I’m, just, I’m looking for something.”
“May I help?”
“No, no, you go on back to bed… I know it’s here some place.”
“What is it you’re looking for?”
“It was a letter I had on my desk, it’s gone.”
“Oh,” Pearl laughed, “Darling, I mailed it out for you earlier today. You were out of stamps but I took it to the post office along with a few other pieces I had.”
“You WHAT?!” Judy held her hands over her face as she felt every limb go numb.
“You didn’t want it mailed?”
“No, I didn’t want it mailed, Pearl! ...Oh my God, I think I’m going to faint,” she breathed, pacing back and forth before falling into the armchair. “Alright, well you mailed it today? Maybe there’s a way I can get it back. I can go first thing in the morning, I can have the post office retrieve the letter for me.”
“Why don’t you get some sleep, huh? Don’t panic. I’m sure it’ll be just fine.”
When Judy arrived at the Post Office the next morning before her early call at the studio, she was told the mail had been sent out the previous afternoon and there was no way to intercept delivery. With her heart in her throat, all she could do was accept her fate. Gene would receive the letter – the letter that was only meant to be written, not sent.
As each day passed without a response, her anxiety raised. Luckily, she was catapulted into work on The Harvey Girls and was in the midst of recording an album for Decca Records which acted as a temporary distraction. Her personal life inadvertently took a backseat to her professional one.
It felt like a year had passed, but it had only been a month since the letter had been sent. She was filming on an exterior train set, recording In the Valley (Where the Evenin’ Sun Goes Down). The crew were mesmerized, her voice came through louder than the playback, even for such a soft song. The day she filmed a musical number was always a favourite for anyone who worked with her. Standing in a darkened area by an unused camera in the back of the sound stage, Gene watched her as she leaned back against the train. He couldn’t take his eyes from her, she had never looked more beautiful than she did in that very moment. He wasn’t sure if maybe it was because he hadn’t seen her in months or if because she truly had never been more beautiful. Once again, she looked different, as she always did when there had been a significant absence between them. She looked more mature, he thought.
The song came to a close and when George called cut, Judy leapt off the train set and made her way to the director’s chair to discuss an idea on how she could improve the last shot. Gene stepped out from the back of the sound stage, his hands in his pockets as he slowly walked towards her. Judy was so focused on a particular idea that it took a few moments for her eyes to raise over George’s shoulder. When finally she saw him heading her direction with such a warm demeanour, she softly smiled a smile that matched his. She was confused to see him. She hadn’t been made aware, even in her social circle that he was home again. Judy politely excused herself from the director and began walking towards him.
“Hi,” he grinned.
“What are you doing here?” She asked in a warm tone.
“I’m home for a while… I heard you singing.”
“You know, you’re not allowed on a closed set,” she teased.
“I couldn’t help it. Your voice is magnetizing.”
Judy lowered her stare to the floor between them, the thoughts raced through her mind a mile a minute. She wanted to come right out and ask him if he received her letter but she couldn’t bear to face it. He hadn’t said a thing about it, he never even bothered to answer – maybe he never received it, she thought… and hoped. She remembered a few times her letters to David had been misdelivered when he served.
“I’ll be home for a good long while,” he began again, speaking softly, “and I’d like to see you.”
“You would?”
“If that’s alright with you, of course.”
“Of course.”
Judy was promptly called back to the set but before she turned to leave, she asked him to stick around for another take, explaining that she thought she messed up somewhere in the outro. Gene agreed to stay, anything to keep his eyes on her even for just a few minutes more. He reached down and took her hand in his, running his thumb over her knuckles before she turned and walked back to set.
Judy nailed the next take from start to finish. She often credited Gene for giving her her strength and confidence. She always performed her best when he was in the vicinity. As the A.D. helped her off the train all the while singing her praises, Judy only desired and eagerly anticipated Gene‘s thought. When she came around the train set, her exuberance fell the moment she realized the spot he was standing in was now empty. She glanced around the sound stage but he was nowhere to be found.
It was nearly 10:30pm when Judy was finally dismissed. After changing into her street clothes, she walked tiredly to the parking lot with a cigarette in hand daydreaming of slipping into her pyjamas and crawling into bed the moment she got home. The exhaustion from consecutive late nights and long days were quickly catching up to her. As she approached the row of reserved parking spots, she noticed a dark figure leaning on the hood of her car, smoke billowing from its mouth.
“Well, aren’t you the elusive one?” She said when she realized it was, of course, Gene. His arms were crossed and he turned around to look at her.
“I’m so sorry, Judy, I forgot I had a meeting on the other end of the lot with Freed, I needed to haul ass. You have a tendency to make me forget those kinds of things,” he winked. “I was beginning to think they’d never let you outta there.”
“You and me both, darling,” she said under her breath as she joined Gene and leaned against the hood.
“Again, however, I find myself asking what are you doing here?”
“I said I wanted to see you again. You said it was alright,” he said matter-of-factly.
“I didn’t think you meant in the MGM parking lot,”
“Let go for a drive,” he beamed.
“Now?” She checked her watch, “it’s getting late,”
“Late? It’s barely eleven o’clock. I’m away for six months and you become a lark. That’s it, I’m never leaving this town again,” he teased.
Judy faintly laughed, sighing at the end.
“I won’t keep you, honestly, I’d just like to talk… please? Let’s drive for awhile.”
Gene and Judy drove down Overland, heading North with no real purpose or destination in mind. Gene kept stealing glances at Judy while the radio played a Bing Crosby tune. As he glanced over at her, staring straight ahead as though she were terrified to look at him, he couldn’t help but smile.
“So you’re not over me, huh?” He blurted.
Judy winced immediately, “fuck…”
Gene laughed.
“That letter was not meant for your eyes, I am beyond embarrassed.”
“It wasn’t? My name written on the envelope kinda threw me off.”
“I wrote that letter for myself, as a sort of diary. I thought if I got my thoughts down on paper, I could move on, get past this, us… and my half wit housekeeper went and mailed it to you,” she pursed her lips together, trying to hide a self deprecating smile.
“Sure, I’ll pretend for a moment to believe that,” he smirked.
“It’s the truth! Do you honestly think I’d send you a letter like that knowing full well the effort you’ve put into fixing your family?”
“Honestly, yes,” he half-teased.
“Ouch…”
There was a moment of silence between them, the air that was light moments ago turned strained.
“I am so sorry, Gene… I didn’t want to jeopardize the progress you and Betsy made. It was not my intention.”
“I know it wasn’t,” he said quietly.
“I’m sorry I–,”
“Stop saying you’re sorry. Whether that letter was sent by accident or not, I was meant to receive it. I needed to hear what you had to say.”
“How come you never wrote me back?” She asked earnestly.
Gene sort of shrugged his shoulders, “what can I say? I like keeping you on your toes,” he smirked again, lightening the air between them once more.
“You’re an ass.”
Gene pulled off the main road, turning down a path that led to a quiet garden. The park was completely dark but it gave them the privacy both were looking for. He pulled into a parking spot and shut off the engine.
“May I ask what happened with Joe?” He pried, turning to look at her.
Judy shook her head, not in a way that was saying ‘no’ but in a way that indicated absurdity.
“That night at Ciro’s,” She began, “he took me home, he made love to me and then he told me I had to leave because,” she paused for a moment, the muscles in her neck flaring, “his wife was coming home early the next morning so they could celebrate their anniversary.” Gene tried to hide the I-told-you-so expression as she continued, “I had found a necklace in his sock drawer a few days before that, and I guess I thought it was a gift for me... It was for her. Doesn’t quite sound like a man on the brink of leaving his wife, does it?” She said with a mirthless smile.
“No, no it doesn’t.”
“I left his house that night, I didn’t hear from him again until several weeks later. I told him to go to hell. He didn’t even fight for me.”
“I’m sorry, I really am. But what did you expect involving yourself with a married man?”
“I was involved with you,” she retorted.
“That’s different, and you know it,” he said, “I love my family, Judy,” he added, staring at the steering wheel in front of him, “I love my wife,”
“I know,”
“But if I love her so much, why the fuck can’t I stop thinking about you?” He said, almost getting angry, “When I was reading your letter, it was like I could have written it to you. You are exactly that, a fucking white noise that I can’t turn off. Everything reminds me of you, I can’t escape you… and to be perfectly honest, I think it’s because I don’t want to escape you.”
“Darling…”
“I tried to write you back, believe me I fucking tried. But what was I supposed to say? What more can I say to you? I don’t regret choosing my family, I will never regret anything that has to do with my daughter but why can’t I stop loving you?”
“For the same reason I can’t. There is something real here. It’s the metaphorical elephant in the room that never leaves, not for a second.”
“So what do we do about it?”
“I haven’t a clue,” She sighed.
Gene smiled tenderly and raised his arm over her, gesturing for her to slide in to him. She shoved towards him on the seat and rested her head on his shoulder as he held her. For the first time in months, they relished in their physical contact. Gene placed a soft kiss atop her head, all the while inhaling her sweet and familiar scent. When his lips separated from her hair, Judy looked up at him with her mouth slightly parted. Her lips had never looked more inviting.
“Gene,” she whispered almost inaudibly. That was his queue to take the next step and capture her in a delicate yet heated kiss. His palm raised to her cheek before he allowed his fingers to gently graze down the side of her neck. The feel of him gave her instant goosebumps as their mouths continued in perfect harmony.
“Do you still want me?” She murmured, her lips still attached to his. Gene reached for her hand and slowly began to guide it to his trousers that were tented from his solid arousal.
“For as long as I live, I will always want you,” He answered.
He undid the zipper, reaching inside to pull himself out before placing her bare hand on him. He couldn’t help the deep groan that escaped his lips when he finally felt her around him again. He caught her in another desperate kiss as her small, delicate hand moved up and down his swollen flesh. Judy swung her leg over him and carefully lifted herself onto his lap with his assistance. He quickly began working at the buttons on her cashmere sweater, eagerly trying to free her to him. He let out a deep breath as he slid his hands over her chest to push the sweater off her shoulders. She was instantly bare to him – there was something so unbelievably erotic about her choice not to wear a bra after a long day. He smiled before lowering his mouth to her breasts, kissing and sucking each one. The waves of pleasure that coursed through her body and met up between her legs were quickly becoming unbearable.
“I’ve missed you,” he purred between kisses. Judy leaned forward, enveloping his head with her arms as she ran her dainty fingers through his jet black hair.
Judy lifted onto her knees while Gene guided his throbbing arousal through the leg of her panties. She shaped her mouth into an O as he slid effortlessly inside her. He gripped her thighs which were now much thinner than he remembered and dug his fingertips into her skin as she began to ride him faster and faster. When she went particularly hard on the up motion, her bottom hit the horn on his steering wheel, sending an obnoxiously loud sound echoing into the empty park. Judy immediately dove her face into Gene’s chest as she stifled a roaring laugh. Gene held her body against his as his lips pursed together, desperately trying not to ruin the moment.
“I’m sorry,” she snorted.
“Don’t be,” he said, smiling, taking her face in his hands again so she’d look at him. His hand slid to the back of her neck and he gripped her hair in his fists before resuming their rhythm, this time it was him leading. His pace quickened and suddenly Judy could barely catch her breath. Every thrust inside hit her in all the right places and she grasped the grab handle on the ceiling, preparing for the inevitable burst of pleasure she had been waiting so long for.
“Don’t stop,” she begged, digging her fingernails into his shoulder.
“I wasn’t planning to, baby,” he groaned.
Judy pulled in a deep breath, unable to exhale as her body began to betray her. The car felt like it was spinning as she released a soul shattering climax. Gene held on until he felt a few more tremors shake her body, then he plunged deep inside one last time and buried his face in her chest.
“Oh, my God… Judy…” he panted, feeling a rush come over him unlike anything he’d ever felt.
“My God, too…” She collapsed in his arms and he cradled her. She was so warm against him, he loved the sound of her laboured breathing becoming more and more relaxed, and the sweet audible moans she’d let out sporadically, they sounded so melodic. Neither could tell just how long they stayed like that for. All sense of timing went out the window when they came down from their vigorous aftershocks.
Gene kissed her again, soft and tenderly for a while, neither wanted the evening to end. When his hand once again cradled her cheek, his thumb caught a tear that had escaped her eye. He withdrew for a moment and looked into her misty brown eyes.
“Why are you crying?”
Judy tightened her lips, shaking her head as though she were struggling to properly convey her answer.
“I was just thinking about what a beautiful memory this night will be.”
“Why are you thinking of it as a memory?”
“Because it has to be just a memory, doesn’t it?”
“No.”
“Gene,” she looked at him, all-knowingly, “are you going to go home and leave your wife?”
He didn’t answer, only leaning his head back against the seat and closing his eyes.
“It’s not our time yet, darling,” she explained, “the time for us to act on the elephant in the room will come one day and we will know when it feels completely and unequivocally right between us. You’ll take me home tonight, I’ll go my way and you’ll go yours...”
“I hate the way that sounds… I can’t be without you for months again, I can’t.”
“Yes, you can,” she encouraged, “you have to.”
“Why? Why does this have to end like this?”
“It’s not ending, darling, we’re just… putting ourselves on hold. If there’s one thing I’ve realized over the course of this night with you is that being in love with you and knowing you’re still in love with me is enough. It’s enough for me to hold onto until the day comes when we can be together – no hiding, no spouses, no rules.”
Gene took a deep breath, exhaling loudly. He hated when she was right. He knew they couldn’t continue on the way they had been. Getting back together now would mean getting back together under the pretense of yet another affair. Both of them liked to think they were past that.
Gene helped Judy straighten up but kept her under his arm as they drove back towards Beverly Hills. Neither of them spoke a word the entire way there and when Gene pulled into her driveway, he looked at her for a moment, his mouth shaping up like he was about to say something. Judy pressed her index finger to her lips, silently asking him not to. Her eyes began to well up once more and she leaned forward, kissing him delicately. Gene’s lips parted slightly to receive one last warm sweep of her tongue. When they broke apart, Judy held her hands over her heart, mouthing the words I love you before getting out of the car. Gene watched as she walked up the pathway to her door and disappeared inside.
J U N E 1 9 4 5
Sitting at the kitchen table, Gene jubilantly fed Kerry her breakfast. She had grown so much, he couldn’t believe how much he’d missed in the last four months. He was very proud of the work he was doing for the Navy but it was when he was home that he couldn’t help the small feeling of regret. Betsy would try to capture as much as she could about Kerry’s development in her letters but reading about it was entirely different than witnessing it for himself. Gene was fixing a little smiley face on Kerry’s food tray with her sliced bananas, grapes and strawberries when Betsy came in from the front porch.
“Did you happen to see the papers this morning?” She asked, walking into the kitchen.
“Nope,” he said, still lost in his fruit art. Betsy tossed the paper on the table in front of him and his eyes drifted to the large black lettering.
JUDY GARLAND WEDS DIRECTOR VINCENTE MINNELLI
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hey!! could you do the non ability innocent s/o scenario but with fukuzawa and mori? (Ps I just binged all of your writing I love it so much 🥺💗)
THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! YOU’RE AMAZING!!
IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG, WORK HAS ME BACK AT IT AGAIN.
LOVE YOU ❤️❤️❤️❤️
Fukuzawa
You were perfect to him, and for him. He first saw you sitting on a park bench, all the stray cats were flocked around you as you handed treats out to each of them. He saw you every day doing the exact same thing, and it was always the same cats. He had overheard you talking to the cats in a soft sweet voice as you passed out the treats. He decided that he would join you one day after watching you do this for two weeks. (It took him that long to build up the courage to talk to you. Silver Wolf is good with the blade but not with the words with woman.)
You were shy, slightly awkward, your cheeks would turn the most beautiful shade of pink whenever he sat next to you, and the blush wouldn’t fade until he left. The two of you bonded, conversations went from the cats that you were feeding, to personal lives, dreams and wishes.
You had been dating for about five months, and he still thought you were just as stunning as the first day he saw you. You were still shy and soft spoken, the dictionary definition of pure innocence. He’d come visit you after work, and his eyes would light up, seeing you curled up on the couch with your cats, Mochi, Mimi, and Mogi, watching funny cat videos on your tv.
Your cheeks would still turn a bright red whenever you’d see him, covering your face with your hands to hide your smile. You were just too much, you had to be protected at all costs. In his eyes you were the most precious thing on the earth, next to cats.
He didn’t think you were weak, he just thought that you were too sweet to put up a fight, and he always feared that you would end up in a bad situation because of your sweetness, it would be taken as weakness by people who could take advantage of you and you’d get hurt.
You were walking to your spot one afternoon, meeting up with the local stray cats to hand out their daily treats when you saw a group of men surrounding one. They were throwing things at the little ball of fluff, and they had it circled so it couldn’t run away. Your heart sank, but you saw red. Your fists were balled up, and you stomped over to where the men were standing around, laughing at the tiny creature in the center. You swing at one of the men, hitting him square in the jaw. He staggered back as the other men started shouting at you. You seemed to black out, not remembering anything but throwing punches, kicking and scratching these men who found it somehow amusing to torture a poor defenseless animal.
When the cops showed up you were sitting on the bench, the cats surrounding you as you fed them their treats. Your knuckles were red from the hits and you had blood from one of the men under your nails from the scratches. There were tiny blood splatters on the ground from the man who’s nose was bleeding. They were standing around, glaring at you as they explained to the cops “what happened”.
“May I ask something?” You called to the cop who was questioning the men. He sighed and walked over to you, nodding for you to continue. “Would you be able to get in touch with the Armed Detective Agency Director, Fukuzawa Yukichi?”
“I’m sorry, this is no case for the ADA ma’am.” The cop said, turning back to the men to continue his questions. You sighed and pulled out your phone, calling Fukuzawa yourself. He came as soon as possible, eyeing the scene in horror. He saw the blood on the ground and ran over to you to make sure you weren’t hurt.
“What happened?” He asked you in a hushed voice. The cop eyed him, confused about the presidents interest in such a minor situation.
“They were messing with the kitten. I couldn’t let them do it.” You said, and he nodded.
“So you’re not hurt?” He asked, just to be sure that you were alright.
“I’m fine. Are you mad that I fought them?”
“Of course not. I’ll handle this.” He was serious as ever when he walked over to where the cop was standing, jotting down notes on a notepad. You couldn’t hear him, but his mouth was moving quickly as he motioned his hands between you, the men, and the cats on the ground in front of you.
Fukuzawa took you away from the area before you could figure out what happened to the men. He was quiet as the two of you walked down the street towards the agency building, but once you got inside and into his office his questions were endless.
“I didn’t know you could fight.” “When did you learn how to do that?” “Why did you never tell me you could fight like that?” “Are you sure you’re not hurt?” “It’s just so strange, I never would have thought you had it in you. You’re sure you don’t have an ability?”
“I’m sure. I’m fine. I didn’t learn how to do it, I didn’t even know I could fight like that. I just got really mad, and I blacked out and it happened.” You explained, your voice soft and sweet, your hands folded in your lap, your eyes wide and doe like, it made it hard for him to believe that it was you who beat the hell out of the men.
“Well, I’m proud of you, for defending the cat. Try to stay out of situations like that though, I don’t want you getting hurt. Alright?” He said, trying to stay serious, but when you smiled at him he couldn’t help but smile back.
He never brought up what happened, not around you at least. He talked about it with everyone at the agency. “Welcome Y/N, Defender of Stray Cats!” Dazai would call out whenever you walked in the door. Fukuzawa would just roll his eyes, but secretly he found it even more adorable, your little nickname. He even started using it.
You were Y/N, Defender of Cats, and he absolutely adored you.
Mori
Being Mori’s s/o meant watching Elise way more than you usually had when you were just his intern at the Port Mafia. She became something like your daughter, even though you knew she was just Mori’s ability, you absolutely adored her, and she loved you. Your almost motherly love towards Elise made Mori’s heart sore, he absolutely loved both you and Elise more than anything else.
He often watched you and Elise from his desk, you laying on your stomach on the floor coloring with Elise, talking about anything and everything that kept her interest. You would let her play with your hair, or put makeup on you. Mori enjoyed watching these moments between you and Elise. Your heart and your soul were so pure, he often wondered how you managed to get mixed up with the Port Mafia, somehow ending up with the boss of the organization. Everyone there had blood on their hands, their hearts and souls were tainted with the blood and carnage they had caused, you were like a bright light that shines brighter than anyone else there.
You’d often come into the office with gift wrapped boxes, laying them all in front of Elise before making your way over to Mori’s desk, standing behind him as he sat in his chair. He and you would both watch Elise open her gifts, and then you’d spend the rest of the day playing with the new toys you had bought her.
“You are so kind to my dear Elise, I’m so glad that we both have you.” Mori would often say, calling you over to him, pressing a kiss to your temple.
You never struck him as a violent person, especially when compared to the other members of the Port Mafia. You were sweeter than sugar, Mori’s complete opposite when it came to feelings, morals, values, sympathy... everything. He wouldn’t change anything about you though, you were the contrast in his life that he didn’t know he needed. He cherished you like a fine jewel, he would happily murder anyone that tried to take you away from him.
Mori, Elise, and you were out shopping one afternoon, it was kind of like a family day, at least that’s how you labeled it. He couldn’t help the wide grin that was plastered on his face, seeing you walk down the street a couple steps ahead, holding Elises hand as you window shopped. You’d point out little things that caught your eye, smiling down at Elise when she picked out something that she liked, he knew she would most likely have it the next day.
“I’m going to step in here for a second.” Mori said, walking into a clothing store to pick new dresses for Elise. She was dragged in by him and you decided to stay outside, knowing that if you went in you’d come out with double the dresses.
It was a nice afternoon, which is why you were completely shocked when a group of thugs cornered you, backing you up into a side alley. It was a dead end, you didn’t know what to do.
“Port Mafia garbage.” One of the thugs mumbled as he pulled out a switchblade. Your gulp was audible, and your entire body was shaking with fear.
“Your boss will be here soon, we’ll just keep you until then.” Another thug said, his arms crossed as he seemed to be enjoying the look of terror on your face.
Soon fear turned to worry, they were planning on hurting Mori... you couldn’t let it happen. “Please, I only have a little bit of money, but you can have it. Let me go.” You said, reaching into your purse. Your fingers brushed against the metal, it was the scalpel that you had saved in your purse. Mori has given it to you as a way to think of him, and at the time you were confused by the item, never finding a need for it, but he must have known something like this would happen. You silently thanked yourself that you hadn’t taken it out of your purse, until now.
You quickly pulled it out, moving too fast for any of the men to notice. You swiped it across the closest mans throat, the blood shot out onto your face. You were swift, finishing off the rest of the thugs in what felt like only a couple seconds. They all had their throats slit before they realized what was happening, they didn’t have time to run or scream. They didn’t even have time to think about what was happening before they were on the ground, choking on their own blood or bleeding out.
You stared wide eyed at the scene in front of you, dropping the scalpel to the ground by your feet. You couldn’t seem to move your eyes from the bodies that were strewn across the ground, the gurgling gasping breaths from one of the men seemed to echo in the empty alleyway.
“Oh my, someone is going to have to clean this up.” Your head whipped up at the sound of Moris voice. His eyes were glued to you, a grim smile on his face. The blood that was splattered on your face reminded him of himself when he murdered the president of the port mafia. In this moment you reminded him of himself, and he couldn’t be prouder.
“They were going to hurt you, I couldn’t let that happen.” You whispered, but Mori wasn’t listening. He just wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into the tightest hug you’ve ever received from him.
“I’m so proud of you, my sweet sweet darling. You’ve done well.” He murmured into the top of your head.
He couldn’t get over the fact that you wiped out three grown men with just a scalpel, he couldn’t believe it. He knew you didn’t have an ability, but it didn’t stop him from thinking that you would make a great addition to the Black Lizards.
You weren’t as innocent as he believed, but that just made him adore you even more. You were an angel, his crazy angel.
#bungo stray dogs#bungou stray dogs#bungo stray dogs x reader#bungou stray dogs x reader#bsd request#bsd scenarios#bsd imagines#bsd headcanons#bsd x reader#fukuzawa yukichi#yukichi fukuzawa#fukuzawa x reader#fukuzawa imagines#fukuzawa headcanons#fukuzawa scenarios#mori ougai#ougai mori#mori x reader#mori scenarios#mori imagines#mori headcanons
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Solidarity • IV (m)
BTS x reader, reincarnation!au, supernatural!au, angels and demons!au, slow burn, smut, angst, violence.
Summary: A few weeks away from your 22nd birthday, there are a number of things one would expect to have on their mind. Partying? Oh yes. Drinking? Most definitely. Being told by seven strange men you are the reincarnation of a powerful goddess and the key to winning a demon war? Uh…come again?
Pairing: OT7 x reader, Goddess reader x demon Prince Taehyung, goddess reader x vampire Prince Namjoon, goddess reader x warlock Yoongi, goddess reader x incubus Seokjin, goddess reader x angel Hoseok, goddess reader x shapeshifter Jimin, goddess reader x werewolf Jungkook.
Warnings: angst, some violence, hallucinations, oral (f. receiving).
Word count: 6.4k
Masterlist
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You could feel multiple pairs of eyes burning into your profile across the table, thinking you were oblivious to the intense scrutiny, when in fact you didn’t have the courage to meet the eyes of any of them. Nobody seemed to be making any conversation either, only the sound of metal cutlery scraping harshly on porcelain occasionally making you flinch in discomfort. Instead, you remained unnaturally interested in the assortment of lavish foods on your plate. Where would they even get these ingredients from? Were those fish eggs? Topped with some strange purple garnish-
“Does your arm hurt?” A voice suddenly whines into your ear. Surprised, you glimpse left to Jungkook beside you, now looking sheepish at how he had roughly pinned you to the ground earlier.
“Oh…” you whispered back, shaking your head softly and rolling your shoulder to appease his worries. “Not really, I’m sure you were just doing your job. Maybe a little too well…”
“Our guard dog got a little overexcited. He should really apologise about that.” Yoongi said from your other side, causing you to jerk your head around.
“You know what it’s been like lately, hyung!” He whined back in a harsh whisper, but Yoongi was too preoccupied with his nose buried in a novel to pay attention. His side profile was quite lovely, you thought to yourself. The little details such as the way his silver earrings gently swayed every time he shifted his head slightly or the way his soft locks of black hair framed his face. When your gaze wandered up to the cat like slant of his eyelids he turned to look at you. Caught out, you startled and opened your mouth to apologise for staring.
Instead you gasped when a pea hit him square in the forehead, and he froze momentarily before he slammed his book down onto the table, causing everyone to jump a little. “Don’t be a brat,” he hissed at Jimin across the table.
“Okay, I will now that you’re paying attention to me again, hyung,” he said, plump lips that were once pouting stretching into a smile. It made your heart palpitate how stunning he looked as he grinned, with his blonde hair and red velvet jacket practically radiating confidence. He probably strutted instead of walked too. God, why were they all so beautiful.
Yoongi scoffed loudly, before promptly returning his attention back to the book he had been trying to read. Jimin whined, draping himself back against his chair as if he were dying. “Don’t even think about throwing anything else at me, I’ll turn you into a cat again. This time you won’t be able to change back unless I say so,” Yoongi warned, a dangerous glint to his eye.
Jimin met his jeer by sitting up straighter, his own emerald eyes glinting an icy blue. If you’d have blinked, you’d have missed the way Jimin’s hair suddenly darkened from blonde to a deep fiery red.
“That’s low, hyung. Because you know Jungkook can’t help himself when he sees a cat! He turns straight away, last time he chased me for a whole hour!”
“Ya! It was not that long! Stop making everything seem more dramatic than it really is, Jimin.” Jungkook countered, slamming his fists on the table and causing everything to jump.
Silently, you locked eyes with Hoseok directly across from you, who was trying to enjoy his meal in peace. He sighed deeply, defeated. Something told you this must be a regular occurrence when they sat down for a meal together. His fork was halfway to his lips when Jimin knocked his arm in his bickering, leaving a trail of gravy down the front of his white tunic where his food dropped.
Taehyung stood, pushing his chair back with a loud scrape and all the commotion in the room ceased. He walked to the open door before pausing to turn and look at you expectantly.
“(Y/N), come with me.”
***
There were so many faces. Every step you progressed deeper into the mansion, seemingly further away from the only people who seemed to occupy it, yet you were always being watched.
It was difficult to see past his broad shoulders, swaying with each step he took, so your attention turned to the walls as they passed. He owned a great number of statues, and a lot of paintings you noticed. Yet, the thing that seemed strange about the number of stone figures was that they greatly outnumbered the amount of real people in this large place. You hadn’t been here very long, but it became apparent rather quickly just how empty these walls seemed.
An eerie feeling of loneliness clung to the air, permeating it in the facade of art. Perhaps he liked being that way. Perhaps he just liked art. Who knew? You certainly didn’t, he was a complete stranger to you and had been none too hasty to reveal anything to you. Yet.
The walls around you slowly changed from being dark, solid wood that left you feeling enclosed, to panels of glass like a greenhouse with plants every few steps. The hallway opened up to reveal a larger space with a fountain in the middle, water softly trickling down in white noise. He didn’t look at you, instead Taehyung perched himself on the edge of the pond, staring into the water in silence.
“Sit,” he ordered, gaze not moving from his fingertips creating small ripples in the water’s surface. You were quick to obey, anxious about what you could sense Taehyung was about to reveal.
“It all began about a year and a half ago, when an angel was cast from his place in heaven. That alone was not an uncommon occurrence, it has happened many times before and was no cause for alarm. Those on the path of righteousness sometimes stray so far they are unable to return, or simply aren’t welcome. They often become beings that spend the rest of their days in the human realms, living a sort of half existence. A select few, however, turn to darkness.” He said, still staring into the depths of the water. The back of your neck prickled due to the direction of the conversation. “This one particular angel, his name was Seungri.”
There it was. The name immediately sent cold shivers down your spine, unconsciously your hands balled into fists. Taehyung regarded you with a careful gaze, trying to figure out what your nervous expression meant. The way your teeth sunk into the soft flesh of your bottom lip caught his gaze, his eyes following as you solemnly nodded. “I know it.”
He sat up much straighter at your confession, visibly intrigued.
“I had this terrifying dream that I was dying. No…not dying. I was murdered. The strangest thing was I felt like I wanted to trust the man who drove the dagger into my heart. I wanted to trust him…Seungri,” you described in a small voice, fearful of what reaction your revelation might elicit from the man next to you. Yet he didn’t move, didn’t appear to breathe as if a picture-perfect replica of one of his many sculptures.
“The occurrence that you speak of, you didn’t dream it I’m afraid. You are describing something that really happened.”
“What – no, you can’t be serious,” you quipped back, yet Taehyung only looked at you solemnly. His silence told you everything you needed to know. “But it was horrific.” Without a word, he stood and held out his hand to you, and without question you took it.
Before giving you a chance to stand on your own he was pulling you to your feet with unnatural strength. Another tug brought you stumbling right into his solid chest, and his arms wrapped around you. It felt nice and warm and oh so comforting for a fleeting moment before the room around you was swallowed by tendrils of black smoke. Your stomach lurched from the feeling of suddenly moving inhumanly fast, and when you blinked your surroundings were entirely changed.
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The bright white room was still spinning in your eyes when you came to, you could somewhat make out the dozens of marble statues scattered around.
“H-how…how did you do that?!” You questioned, only able to focus on the face directly in front of you while the rest of the room was hazy.
“I’m a demon, sweetheart. I can do a lot more.” He teased, turning to look around.
You suddenly noticed was that you had been here before. This was the exact place your dream had occurred, and you gasped softly, looking toward the end of the room.
There stood a statue of Eve in the very place that she died.
Startled by the reality of it all, you stepped back only to gently bump into Taehyung. Large, warm and already familiar hands gripped your shoulders to steady you. “I know it’s a lot to take in,” he reassured, the corner of his mouth curving upwards. Did he really just smile at you? (Y/N)?
You gave him a small nod before stepping away, attention shifting back to the statue. The closer you got, the more it was like looking in a mirror. Cautiously, you traced a finger down the bridge of her nose, across her lips, and you swear you felt the faintest touch mirrored on your own. A faint shudder manifested through your body as your fingertips slipped off her chin. Your chin, you couldn’t help but think.
Taehyung’s eyes were glued to every move you made, every little curious touch, the way you frowned slightly when you discovered she even had the same mole on her right ear. You were more cautious, didn’t seem to trust things so easily. Unlike Eve. You weren’t like her at all.
“Who was she?” You finally asked after a long silence, turning back to look at Taehyung.
“She was a goddess, and a powerful one at that. I still remember the evening she came here for the first time, as if she could sense we were in danger. It was pouring rain, a night much like this one, and she was drenched to the bone and freezing.”
“But where did she come from? Surely you would have heard of her before?” You cut in, curiosity getting the better of you.
Taehyung tutted, looking slightly irritated at your interruption. “Inquisitive little human, aren’t you?” Your mouth twisted into a sour pout, not really appreciating the comment since all this time he’d kept you in the dark about what was really happening. His features softened a little. “But I can understand why you would be. She came to us the day after Seungri fell. At first, nothing was out of place. Things were…good and…happy. She made me happy.” The last part was so quiet you barely heard, but when you did your heart twisted.
“It’s been a year since, well…you know well enough what happened,” he continued. “Small run ins between the magical beings that roam the human realm are by no means uncommon, neither was Seungri’s fall from grace unheard of. There was no cause for alarm, and that was the first mistake we made. She came to us for a reason, we should have been paying more attention. Creatures of all kinds started showing up dead, even angels. The strangest part was they had all been drained of their abilities. We’re not sure exactly how many, because their bodies began to disappear as well. See all the statues? These were all people I loved. He killed them, Seungri killed them.”
“What?” you gasped, stepping toward him. “Oh Taehyung…I’m so sorry.”
“What’s done is done. I couldn’t protect them.”
“You can’t blame yourself for this. Your actions were not what caused their deaths.” He wouldn’t look at you, and your hand bunched into a fist from the urge to touch his shoulder or do something to comfort him, but you decided against it. “I can’t help but ask…why did he do it?”
“Simple, he wanted power. He wanted to be the most powerful being in existence, forge his own throne and have everyone bow to him. Somehow he has the ability to siphon others’ abilities, which makes him very dangerous. Our second mistake was underestimating him, we should never have left Eve alone. I thought she could easily protect herself if he went after her. I was wrong, he was much more powerful that I thought. She put up a good fight, however, it didn’t kill him. He was severely wounded, and we haven’t seen any sign of him since. But he’s out there somewhere, recovering and waiting. I have no idea what his next move will be, he’s been silent for so long. I’ve been trying everything in my own power and those I know to hunt him down while he is weak. But if there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s being a coward.”
“But that still doesn’t explain why I’m here, and why I look like her,” you pointed out, turning back to stand face to face with the statue.
“I think I know,” his deep voice came from behind you, warm breath tickling the back of your neck and causing the hairs to stand on end. You turned around only to find Taehyung was incredibly close, he backed you into the statue, a tiny squeak leaving you when you hit stone. Your eyes were drawn to the intriguing shape of his lips, your own tingled in memory of the way his devoured them. “The universe needs balance, and when Eve was...gone, it gave us you. I had begun to lose hope that we would have a fighting chance against him when he does inevitably return. But now we have you – you can help us. You bring a new hope to this war.”
“Hope? Hope? Have you ever considered that maybe you’re wrong? I’m not some super powerful goddess or entity or whatever she was. Have you considered that maybe I don’t want to be your fucking mascot? To fight a war that, quite frankly, terrifies me? I’m not just some replacement that you can snatch up because it was so convenient. Surely, I have more purpose than that...” you trailed off, voice that began as defensive fading to a defeated mumble.
“Do you really think that’s true, (Y/N)?” Taehyung asked, a knowing taunt to his question. As if he could see all the hours you spent staring at your ceiling while you weren’t working in hospitality, deciding what course you life was going to take. Not just from now on either, for you had asked yourself that many times in the past. Where are you going? Who are you? What are you doing? When will you change?
At your silence, Taehyung moved forward even further causing you to press harder against the marble statue. Against what was essentially Eve’s tombstone, all the memories of how she was violently murdered came rushing back into your mind. Was that what fate awaited you?
“I don’t want any part in this,” was all you managed to choke out before you shoved past him.
So you ran.
You ran as fast as your feet would carry you. The distance that you and Taehyung had walked passed by in a blur, the entrance hall coming closer and closer. Chairs scraped as the others scrambled to stand when you rushed past the dining room. Faintly, through the ringing in your ears you heard Jungkook almost whining your name.
The iron gate slammed shut behind you, sounding like another crack of thunder through the rain, the droplets battering against your skin. Your vision was obscured by it as you located the scooter and kicked it to life, not once looking over your shoulder as the mansion grew further and further away.
It was easier not to believe. Much, much simpler to just take a warm shower and succumb to sleep once you arrived back to your dark and silent apartment. Tomorrow you would go to work like usual. It was normal, and normal was good, you could understand it. Normal was safe.
***
“...me. Hello? Excuse me!”
The cold of the drink seeping into your hand finally snapped you out of the daydream that had been occupying your thoughts, your fingertips tingling from becoming numb.
“Right! Yes, sorry. Here you go, one large iced mocha to go,” you announced as if you hadn’t been almost drooling on yourself moments ago mid-daydream. The young customer took it from your hands and backed away slowly, almost as if you would try to harm him if he made any sudden movements. You wanted to throw your arms in the air and yell I’m not crazy! However, you knew that would certainly have the opposite effect. A fed-up huff came from your lips as you shook your head, trying to rid yourself of all these lingering thoughts. No, you didn’t want to know if Taehyung was thinking of you...right? No! He was dangerous and would only bring trouble and disruption into your perfectly peaceful life. Anyway, days had passed and you were safe now and fully intended on living a mundane and monster free lifestyle.
“Excuse me, dear,” a frail voice drew your attention back to the counter, where a short elderly woman waited patiently for assistance. You were in front of her in an instant, smiling kindly at the way her hands trembled as they gripped her cane weakly. “I was wondering if you could help me with the board up there. I’m terribly sorry, I’ve left my glasses somewhere and it’s a struggle for me to see very far without them.”
“Oh no, it’s alright. Don’t apologise, I’ll go through the options with you. Here,” you pulled out a much smaller menu from the display and began rattling off each item to her, but the brush of her finger on your hand stopped you abruptly.
“Say, a young lady I once knew had a mole just like the one on your wrist. She was very pretty, just like you,” the old lady commented, a kind smile etched into her wrinkled features.
The remark was very sweet and would normally have left you feeling warm and fuzzy inside, however, you couldn’t help the way you internally recoiled at the way she said just like you. A cold shiver ran down your spine due to the way she looked at you intensely, but you couldn’t blame her due to her old eyes. Regardless, you still rushed to finish up with her and seat her at one of the tables, the rather thick hairs around her top lip and the glassiness were starting to creep you out.
You spent the next two hours being run off your feet as usual, huffing in relief when it was time for you to go home finally. Despite getting the answers you so desired, your ability to sleep seems to have only gotten worse, as did the nightmares. So much for normal, it was easy to pretend while you were at work, as soon as you got home it was so quiet on your own. It was still more than a week until Isabella was due back from her holiday with her family, and you missed her terribly.
A loud thunk sound made you jump, only to relax when you saw a napkin pressed up against the glass from inside the coffee shop. Friday? it read in sharpie, held up by your coworker with a large grin spread across his face. You couldn’t help the way your own mouth copied his, breaking out into an ecstatic smile as well. He had asked you to accompany him to a party on Friday night, and you had agreed a little too eagerly, jumping at the opportunity to do something which you once thought you’d never enjoy. A small nod from you had him grinning wider, despite the minute feeling of guilt that bubbled up within you. No matter how many times you tried to convince yourself you might actually like him if you gave him a chance, you continued to catch yourself thinking about him.
You took your frustration out on a small rock that came across your path, continually kicking it along the footpath in front of you every couple of steps. Each time it travelled a little farther as you got more annoyed with yourself. You would never see the man again, it’s so much easier to just forget about him. Yet you had to admit your heart ached in a way it never had before, like an undeniable connection was under the threat of being broken. Like the two of you were destined to be togeth-
“Argh!” You cried out, giving the stone an especially harsh kick. There you go again, letting your thoughts run rampant. The rock skidded to a stop at the intersection, right at the feet of an elderly person about to step into oncoming traffic. Acting blindly, you lurched forward into a sprint. “Wait! It’s not safe to cross yet!” She froze midstep, unable to move until you grabbed her shoulder before she could step any farther, gasping when you recognised the little old lady from before.
“Oh!” She exclaimed, grasping your arm to steady herself when she stumbled, suddenly released from her daze. She blinked a couple of times, squinting up at you before her eyes narrowed further. “It’s you…” Her voice dropped with the last two words, and you swore she hissed. You were about to ask her if she was hurt while straightening, but her grip on your arm tightened.
“Hey,” you cooed in a soothing tone, she might be in shock or frightened. “It’s okay, you’re safe now.”
“You’re not.”
“What?”
“He’s coming for you. It’s only a matter of time.”
In the blink of an eye you were pulled toward her with an unnatural amount of strength for her deceitful appearance, and white hot pain erupted from your arm as her sharp teeth sunk deep into the flesh. You tried to scream in pain and fear, but her hand clamped over your mouth, clawed fingernails digging into your cheek hard enough to draw blood. You mustered enough strength to push her off, her teeth momentarily latching on harder causing more of your flesh to tear as you struggled to get away. She screamed out in a manic laugh, but you had already turned and began to flee, wild panic driving you to sprint faster. Before long your lungs were burning and you had tears streaming down your face but you didn’t dare stop. A look over your shoulder only caused you more terror at the sight of some kind of demon in pursuit on all fours, nose following your trail of blood.
You made a sharp right turn, stomach dropping in dread when you saw a few innocent bystanders. You screamed at them to run, waving your uninjured arm maniacally. However, they didn’t budge as you caught up to them, didn’t hear you coming up behind even as you made quite the ruckus. You stopped abruptly in front of them, panic obvious in your expression and the way your chest heaved. Just as you were about to cry out in a panic yet again they walked right past you, completely oblivious.
They couldn’t see or hear you.
You stumbled after them as they passed, deep in conversation with one another but it was useless. They continued to walk down the street, unaware of your presence. They soon disappeared from sight while you continued to stumble along the path, feet dragging and vision blurring around the edges. Something was definitely wrong, you thought as you collapsed on the ground. A glance at your arm confirmed it was healed, no longer dripping with blood but the two puncture marks were still prominent. They looked infected and pulsated with something dark green.
After a few seconds your vision became far too blurry, and you found yourself unable to keep your eyes open any longer. Everything started to go black and you slumped to the ground, succumbing to unconsciousness.
***
When you opened your eyes again, all you could see was darkness still. It must have been the middle of the night, you noticed as you sat up in bed, your bed you noticed. The familiar dark space of your bedroom came into focus as you blinked several times, willing away the bittersweet embrace of sleep. Quickly you pulled your arm out from under the covers, noticing it no longer hurt, and as you looked closer you could see no evidence of the encounter ever happening. Was it another nightmare? It must have been, how did you get back home safely? What happened to the demon that was following you?
As if sensing your thoughts, you noticed an unfamiliar shape in the corner of the room where the shadows were at their darkest. You gasped quietly, panic setting in as an arm reached out, fingers brushing the stem of the lamp. You froze as a soft glow illuminated your room.
In the armchair, one ankle hooked casually over his knee sat Taehyung. His rings shone softly in the light as they drummed against his cheek.
“Quite the troublemaker, aren’t we?”
“I-I um,” you shuffled through your thoughts trying to look for an explanation, seeming as though he likely found you unconscious on the sidewalk, arm mauled and venom pumping through your veins. “Well, it’s not l-l-like I...um,” you swallowed nervously as he stood from his seat, slowly stepping toward the bed. He cocked an eyebrow at your unfinished answer. “I didn’t go looking for it, it just happened.”
“A lot of things seem to have just happened to you recently, haven’t they?” He questioned rhetorically, moving to sit on the edge of your bed. He was much closer now, and you sank back down into the sheets gripping the covers almost to your chin. It was cooler in his presence and you were well aware of how much your nipples poked out against the thin fabric of your shirt. “You’re not safe by yourself. Come back to the mansion, please Y/N. Come back to me.” He whispered, each word he spoke he had inched closer until his breath fanned over your cheek. You didn’t stop him even as his lips brushed your skin, capturing the corner of your mouth. You didn’t stop him as his fingertips dragged up your body over the covers, drawing a line straight through the valley of your breasts and his fingers gripped the top of the doona. He pulled it down slowly, and you gasped softly at the way it dragged over your painfully stiff peaks. Taehyung easily swallowed the sound, laving his tongue over yours in a brief show of dominance.
“What are you-” you began to ask but you were quickly silenced by his index finger being pressed to your lips.
“Hush sweetheart.” He bent down, warm breath tickling your lips before seeking to nibble on the corner of your mouth again. Instead of moving to deepen the kiss, he continued a blazing path down your cheek toward your ear. He sat back on his haunches, fingertips brushing the top of your blanket that was still covering your legs before eyeing you, waiting. You nodded once, giving him silent permission and Taehyung pulled the covers down, a rush of cool air made your skin break out in goose bumps yet you felt hotter than ever. He slotted a knee between your thighs as his mouth returned to your neck, his delightful lips pressed a soft kiss right behind your ear after he leaned down to whisper words of praise to you for allowing him access.
His hot, wet tongue made you squirm when it laved over the crook in your neck, seeking out the spot where you were most sensitive. You whined loudly when he found it, a satisfactory smirk stretching across his lips before he began suckling a bruise there. Your nipples scraped over his chest with every heave of your lungs, god they were extra sensitive right now. He relented with a chuckle, shifting further down to nip your collarbone before honing in on the stiff peak poking through your shirt.
He drew your left nipple into his mouth, and your hips bucked unconsciously as you gasped, his hands gripped the soft flesh of your thighs, kneading firmly. The cavern of his mouth was so hot and created a wet patch where he suckled your peak through your shirt. A nip of his teeth drew another whine from you, before he relented the abused nipple only to latch on to the other.
“Spread your legs for me sweetheart, that’s it,” he whispered, not really giving you an option with the way his fingers gripped your knees and pried them open, but it was embarrassing how quickly you complied. How quickly you wanted to comply. “Good girl, so eager and ready for me, aren’t you?” Quickly he settled his own hips at the apex of your thighs, and you mewled at the feeling of his bulge brushing against the wet patch on your sleep shorts.
“Please Taehyung,” you whimpered, whole body twitching with need. You jumped again when the cool metal of his rings brushed across your heated skin, trailing down your hips until his fingers hooked into the waistband of your shorts. He glanced up and locked eyes with you for a moment, something feral was alight in his gaze that made your pelvic floor clench around nothing. You shivered as he dragged your shorts, panties included, ever so slowly, never breaking eye contact.
Taehyung’s mouth quickly followed, laving over your stomach in slow, torturous kisses. Occasionally he would nip your skin and soothe the bite with a lick. When he finally sat back, his grip on your knees tightened and he pushed them wide apart, gaze falling to your exposed core. You whimpered in embarrassment and tried to snap them closed but it only elicited a growl from him, clearly displeased at your disobedience. When you stilled he smirked, and shifted down to lay on his stomach with his face centimetres from your cunt. Warm air fanned against your glistening folds as he chuckled in amusement at how worked up you had gotten.
“You’re practically gushing, sweetheart. Do you really need me that badly?” He questioned, but before you had an opportunity to answer he dragged his flattened tongue over your honeyed hole, devouring your juices in long slow swipes. The muscle ventured to the side, sucking hickies all around your pussy lips but making no move to return to your most sensitive parts.
The drag of his sinfully warm tongue continued on and was driving you near insane, drawing one long, wide circle just outside of where you needed him most. Every now and then he would tease you with the lightest lave of the muscle over your clenching orepheus, but he never quite delved in. Your pussy clenched pathetically from the lightest dip.
Suddenly driven impatient and worked up to a point where you didn’t care, your hands flew down to find purchase in his silky blonde locks. You attempted to push his head further into your heat to gain some stimulation as you rutted your hips up, not remember that he had an agenda of his own. With a feral growl, he pulled away, one large hand coming to enclose your wrists and tug them from his head.
“Now now sweetheart, you aren’t being very well behaved are you? I might just have to put you over my knee and teach you some manners, hm?” He drawled, the pads of his fingers dipping into your wetness teasingly, before sitting back as he brought them up to admire the strings of your arousal that connected them.
“Please please,” you whined, continuing to squirm. The playful smirk he once adorned fell from his face only to be replaced by something displeased. His free hand moved so suddenly you barely registered the movement until you felt a sharp sting across your pussy. He repeated the action once more, leaving you mewling underneath him from the smack.
“First warning,” he growled, hunkering back down.
Finally his tongue delved into your entrance, licking up the pool of juices you were sure had gathered there by now. The tip of his tongue stopped just short of your throbbing bud, and you squirmed from being so close to the stimulation you craved. His thumb came up just above your pearl, pulling back the hood to expose it. He blew air on it gently and when your hips began to buck he finally trapped it between his lips only to begin suckling without mercy. The action tore a near scream from your lips, if you were squirming before, you were positively thrashing now as his teeth nipped at your sensitive clit. The sudden you onslaught of pleasure had your pelvic muscles contracting so hard you swore you almost gushed all over the sheets.
He eased off a little, opting for more gentle suckles and licks against your bud, but they were strong enough to still have you clenching and whining as your climax drew closer. The push of something slim and solid against your entrance had your eyes going wide for a moment, before he sunk his middle finger into your cunt easily. Immediately your walls clamped down on it, welcoming the intrusion. Taehyung lifted his head off to admire the way your head was thrown back against the pillows, eyes rolling back into your head. You whimpered when he pushed another finger in, two making a delicious stretch that had your spread legs twitching. He chuckled endearingly at your response, and how smoothly you’d taken them into your sopping pussy.
“Good girl,” he hummed. “So eager for me, let me hear you.”
The continuous drag of his fingers against your walls elicited a loud moan from your panting lips, particularly when he easily located the soft spongy bed of nerves nestled within. He crooked his fingers, pleased at the way you grew tighter, that coil in your stomach getting closer to snapping. “That’s it sweetheart, come for me,” he growled, lips seizing your clit once more and he lashed his tongue against it without mercy in tangent with the movement of his wrist.
After being on the brink for some time, this easily tipped you over and you hurtled into your climax. You felt every muscle lock up as you hit the peak of pleasure, a loud sting of cries torn from within as you began to tremble and buck your hips when Taehyung refused to let up. The pleasure became a little overwhelming once your orgasm had finally subsided, and you pushed Taehyung away with a whine. He sat back, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. The fingers that still glistened with your juices, rings and all, were popped into his mouth. He groaned as they dragged over his tongue, and the sound made you twitch, still sensitive.
His sinful lips were moving, but no sound was coming from them. You frowned, still in an elated haze wondering if perhaps it was just your ears ringing. He was talking more, the expression on his face looking alarmed now.
You tried to sit up, reassure him that you felt completely fine but strong hands gripped your shoulders and held you back down. When you looked up your vision was blurred, your eyes were unable to focus on the room around you and you could no longer see Taehyung clearly.
You began to resist against the hands holding you down, shouting out in confusion. Your arm throbbed in pain, it felt white hot and swollen. Someone was shaking you by the shoulders, and you squeezed your eyes shut. This felt wrong, you felt incredibly groggy and your head was pounding.
“(Y/N)! Wake up!” A voice was calling out, sounding far away. It repeated your name a few times, each one getting louder until your eyes snapped open to look at the figure hovering over you, hands gripping your shoulders.
“Yoongi?”
“Would you like to explain why I found you half dead on the sidewalk?”
***
You were back at the mansion.
Shadows danced in the corners of the room as the fire cast a warm glow across the library, giving off comforting crackling sounds every few seconds. Taehyung was noticeably absent, and you opened your mouth to question his whereabouts. An uneasy feeling came over you, however, and you decided against it. He didn’t want to see you right now.
You had woken up in Yoongi’s workroom, your wounded arm wrapped in a bandage. A demon bite, and a nasty one too he informed you. The type that causes people to go insane before they died, hallucinating things they...desire. The fire warmed your already rosy cheeks, flaming in embarrassment at what had occurred in your dream. It felt incredibly real.
“I can’t believe you survived that, honestly. I’ve seen a lot of bites like that before and the end result is never anything pretty. People go downhill pretty quickly.” Yoongi mused, staring straight into the burning flames, light flickering in his eyes.
“Good people too,” Hoseok added as he came back into the room, offering you a steaming mug of tea which you accepted gracefully. “Here.” He also draped a blanket across your shoulders, causing you to melt a little under his doting.
“Thank you, really.”
“Don’t mention it, you’ve been through quite a lot, and I’m afraid it’s only going to get worse. Demon numbers are on the rise. No doubt it’s related to...him.” Hoseok looked away as he talked about Seungri, and you eyed his wings remembering how Seungri had a pair just like them, only black. You had a sinking feeling the two were connected somehow.
“That...thing. The demon, it said something to me. He’s coming for me.” You shuddered at the thought, at your dreams, what Taehyung said to you. Everyone in the room turned to look at you, and Yoongi opened his mouth to speak.
He was interrupted as a crack of thunder boomed through the sky, flashes of lightning illuminating the room. The doors to the library were thrown open with a tremendous bang causing everybody to jump. Two figures appeared in the doorway as more lightning struck.
“Well, well, well…what do we have here?” The first one said, tilting his head at you and giving a far from comforting smile. Yoongi was quick to be by your side.
“Namjoon, Seokjin….this is (Y/N).”
A/N: I’m sorry for the late update!!! I know it’s been a really long time but I’m such a slow writer, plus my mental state hasn’t been very good lately. If I missed you on the tag list I’m sorry, it’s hard to keep track!!
Tag list: @lachiminlajimin @sugasheart @jessilliam-caronday@yikesskaina @wonzigyumin @diorluvs@xxqueenwxtchxx @irissilujm @sweetcrvture @mrcleanheichou @youtube-obsessed-duh @sarahkriswugirl@bangtanlove16 @mariacorbi @baby-hobii@catsandstrawberries @it-is-dana @januarythirteen @just-a-little-teapot13 @jooheonbee @crajishie @lyuxs @t-mel19 @joonsroses @valiantcollectorofsandwiches @psiphidragon @ro2424 @mingukmania
#bts smut#bts imagine#bts x reader#bts#bts fan fic#solidarity#ot7 x reader#demon bts#angel bts#supernatural bts#vampire bts#seokjin smut#seokjin imagine#yoongi smut#yoongi imagine#hoseok smut#hoseok imagine#namjoon smut#namjoon imagine#jimin smut#jimin imagine#taehyung smut#taehyung imagine#jungkook smut#jungkook imagine#demon taehyung#vampire namjoon#werewolf jungkook
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Halfling || Geralt of Rivia x Reader
There is a startling lack of The Witcher fanfiction on this website, so I figured I might as well start writing some.
Trigger Warning: Sexual Themes | Mentioned Sexual Assault | Mentioned Abuse
* * *
You didn’t remember falling asleep in Geralt’s bedroom, curled up on the small couch in front of the fireplace, the book you had been reading on the floor where it had tumbled after you’d dropped it.
You had been living at Kaer Moren for about two months now. After all of those years in Vizima, especially those last two years living with that gods-awful man in that gods-awful inn, a rotting shack in the woods would have felt like a palace. Whether for good or for bad, the ancient Witcher school had begun to feel like home alarmingly fast. You’d learned all of the secret passageways, all of the forgotten corridors, empty bedrooms, and unused rooms.
You tried your best to fight that feeling. You knew better than to trust the feeling of security. If the last few years of your short life had taught you anything, it was that everything was temporary—security could never last. Best to keep your guard up; it was the only way to keep from getting hurt. And yet, you were losing your internal battle.
Despite your best efforts to treat your time behind the ancient walls as a job and nothing more, here you were—asleep in a man’s room.
Not just any man–a Witcher.
Those years at the Traveler’s Boot had hardened you. Hell, your entire life had hardened you. Apart from a few happy childhood memories, when the whole world still remembered Sodden and feared it, you had few happy memories. Your childhood ended at the age of three, when your mother abandoned you. Your father had abandoned you before you’d even been born. Those first few years, you were taken in by a kindly old human woman. Marta was unlike most of the humans she’d ever met. She hadn’t paid much attention to your elven features. She hadn’t treated you as some sort of monster. Unfortunately, Marta died when you were thirteen. Nobody else was kind as her; nobody else was kind at all.
In the war-torn North, your elven heritage was a target on your back. You were a worthless Halfling—a monster. You were eleven, and so the humans did not trust you. You were half human, and so the elves wanted nothing to do with you. No matter where you went, you were treated with contempt. You traveled from city to city, picking up jobs where you could, hunting and foraging when work was not available. But once the war started, the forest was no longer safe. The Squirrels would have shot you through with an arrow on sight. The humans would have done the same. And so, two years ago, you came to find yourself in Vizima, at Ikorak’s fine establishment.
You’d sat in a dark corner of the bar, drinking away the last gold coins to your name. The watered-down ale tasted like dirty bath water, but it served its purpose. The pain that normally filled you was slowly eclipsed by numbness. Feeling nothing was the closest thing to feeling happy you got. Ikorak approached you after you had swallowed the third pint of ale, a fourth in hand.
“You here alone, Miss?” he asked, arms braced on the old table.
“Do I look like I need a chaperon?” You narrowed your eyes, still sharp even as the alcohol clouded her mind.
“Yes.” He had not hesitated to answer. He hadn’t even attempted to hide the lecherous look on his face, either.
“Well,” you snapped, “You are mistaken.”
“The cat has claws.” He smirked at her before turning and walking back to the bar.
Perhaps it was the alcohol, or perhaps it was the desperate need to find steady work, but by the end of the evening, you had agreed to come work for him. He had promised steady work as a barmaid—occasionally flirting with the clientele. It was supposed to be easy, honest work. He even offered a room in the inn. It was small and cold and cost half your wages, but it was safe. At least, you thought that it was.
Naturally, not long after you’d begun working there, you realized you were not there to serve rowdy men drinks and harmlessly flirt with them for tips. You were the entertainment. Your long dark hair and wide-doe eyes–elven, except for their deep brown color, were fascinating to the local clientele and travelers alike. You did what any other Halfling stuck in a rotting hell-hole of a world would do. You did your job. It was easy enough to numb yourself, to imagine entire other lives, to dream about things that would never happen. It was easy to lie to yourself and say that you would be able to save enough money to get out of there by the time the year was out.
Then, the war heated up.
As blood poured on the battlefields and entire cities burned, your elven beauty turned only hateful glances, eyes full of reproach from elf and human alike. You were not to be trusted. Never mind that you were neutral, and wanted nothing more than this war to be over—whoever ended up crowned King in the end, you were treated like a parasite. How could you be anything but? There were those who promised freedom to people like you–inspiring bands of Scoia’tel to start offing humans in the wilderness.
Kings raised armies against one another in the timeless struggle for power. There were no “good” sides, as far as you were concerned. Each one wanted nothing more than to kill the other off with as much proficiency and brutality as possible.
Soon, most of the men visiting [Brothel] wanted nothing to do with you. Ikorak threatened to throw you out on the street, citing a long list of charges that you could never hope to pay off without a steady stream of clients.
The first time he struck you, you’d been too surprised to think much of it. You had spoken back, after all. You’d opened your mouth to defend yourself when you knew that you had no right to.
After that, each night you failed to find a willing buyer, [Brothel Owner] had his way with you. Always violent, never gentle. You woke up nearly every day with fresh bruises. Even those night that you managed to find a client, he would treat you much the same way. Angry with… well anyone. They would take it out on you.
Geralt had been different. You could still see the image perfectly in your head. He’d slammed a pouch of Novigrad gold on the bar. He’d gruffly grabbed you by the arm and pulled you up the stairs to his lodgings. You had expected, once the door slammed shut behind him, that he would be cruel, like the others.
But he hadn’t.
He made no move to touch you once you once the lock clicked into place. You hadn’t trusted him. You’d almost decided not to leave with him when he offered. At least with [Brothel Owner], you knew what to expect. The silver-haired man had been a mystery. He wore armor, had daggers and swords hanging about his body. He was a killing machine.
And yet, you’d come. And he’d kept his word. He’d allowed you to stay on at Kaer Moren for the winter, performing various household tasks–mending clothing, cooking meals–they were all things that you had learned to do throughout your life. It was easy work, and you were highly overpaid. You were even given your very own room. You had a trunk at the foot of your bed, and a bookshelf slowly filling with books.
Yes, this place was home.
* * *
Geralt could tell by her steady breathing that you was asleep. The book tumbling to the ground was another indicator. In the warm glow of the last embers smoldering in the fireplace, her hair shone.
He felt the corners of his mouth twitch, but decided not to carefully wipe away the smile, as he usually would. There was something about this woman, this little Halfling that he had felt such a strong urge to take from the horrible place back in Vizima, that he could not ignore.
He realized after a moment that he was staring, probably too intently, at her small sleeping form. The blanket she had wrapped herself in was beginning to fall off the couch as well. It had been torn almost to shreds when she’d arrived–but she’d patched it up, and now it nearly resembled something soft and cozy again.
Silent as a cat, he stood up and padded from his desk to the couch. He did not want to wake her, but he did not want her to wake up here, in his room, in the middle of the night, thinking the worst. He would take her back to her room, he decided.
Gently, he hooked an arm under her knees, and the other round under her back, supporting her head so that she didn’t shock awake. What he had not expected was the way she seemed to melt into his arms, like she belonged there. A soft sigh escaped her lips, and he felt her settle against him, her cheek on his chest.
“Geralt.”
The utterance was so quiet, it would have been hard for anyone without his Witcher senses to hear it. She was still asleep, the utterance coming form somewhere in her subconscious.
Feeling utterly powerless, he decided he would simply lay her in his bed–yes. So she would be more comfortable. He would sleep on the couch. It was an old, lumpy thing, but it was far more comfortable than the hard ground he often slept on during the warmer months outside of Kaer Moren.
Gingerly, he carried her to his bed and set her there, her head resting on one of the pillows.
He was overcome with how much he wanted to reach out and stroke her hair; with how much he wanted to feel her soft skin beneath his calloused fingers. But… He could not. It would be breaking his promise. He might scare her. She was always so jumpy, peering around corners and hiding a flinch whenever someone accidentally snuck up behind her.
So, he set her down and stood up to go to his wardrobe and change into nightclothes–which was, rather unceremoniously the exact thing he wore under all his armor during the day. But with her staying here, he decided he would be much better if he slipped on one of the soft cotton shirts that usually remained folded in the bureau.
As he slipped off his belt, tunic, and pants (making sure to remain craftily hidden behind the large door, he heard stirring from his bed.
He was in the middle of slipping a shirt on over his boxers when he heard that soft voice again.
“Geralt?”
Geralt started, not having seen her eyes flutter as she awoke.
“I’m sorry, An Enid,” he began quickly, using the nickname Vizimir had given her when he walked into Kaer Moren with her that day. It dripped like honey from his lips—Little Daisy. “You’d fallen asleep, and I didn’t want you falling off of the–” She didn’t even seem to hear his explanation for how exactly she ended up in his bed.
“Please don’t leave.” Her voice was still hazy with sleep, but those big, brown eyes were settled on him intently.
“I will not,” he found himself agreeing immediately. “I will be on the couch, right here,” promised.
He saw hurt flash on her face for the briefest of moments, but she collected herself quickly.
“There is more than enough room here, Witcher,” she said tentatively, like she was scared to even be speaking the words. But those were the only words he needed. These last few months–their interactions, conversations, the way that her arm occasionally brushed against his, sending a shiver down his spine. Perhaps, they had not been completely made up or meaningless. He crossed the room in a few large steps, laying down on the empty side of the bed.
Her big doe-eyes were open once more, fixated on his mutant ones. He found himself unable to look away. And still, he made no move to touch her, not wanting to overstep some hidden boundary. His medallion lay on the bedside table, so the soft vibration he felt in his chest had nothing to do with magic. The pull he felt was no spell, but it may as well have been.
Gently, he brushed a few loose strands of hair from her face, calloused fingers gently settling there, on the side of her face.
“Geralt?”
“Yes?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.
“Touch me.”
She didn’t have to wait long. His hands were on her in a moment, one still in her hair, the other wrapping around her waist as he rolled on top of her, carefully distributing his weight so as not to crush her.
Her lips were soft, but her kiss was eager. He did not rush the kiss. His lips moved against hers, eager but not forceful. Her lips parted as she sighed, and the Witcher took advantage of the moment to take control. She was intoxicating. The scent of lavender and cedarwood filled him with a desperate want. All of these months, he had told himself that he didn’t want her. He told himself that she didn’t want him. He told himself whatever he had to to keep his walls up. But with that one breath, with that pleading way she looked at him, with one kiss, the wall had crumbled.
He groaned when he felt her small hand moving over his chest. Her hands were calloused like his own, but her touch was soft. He wanted to feel her hands all over him. As if she could read his mind, like the others, she continued to explore. She slid one hand up into his white hair, clutching him close to her. She broke the kiss, but only to move her lips down over his jaw and down to his neck, biting softly as she ran her tongue over his skin.
Geralt could already feel himself hardening, the whole length of him pressing against her thigh. And she could feel it, too, he realized, when she blinked up at him with a spark of mischief in her eyes.
Gods, she might as well be an enchantress.
Her hand slipped lower, tugging at the waistband of his boxers to stroke him. He moaned softly, lost in pleasure, before finally coming back to his senses. She was trying to, and succeeding in, pleasing him. But as wonderful as her skillful fingers felt, he wanted her to feel the same and more.
“Be still,” he said gruffly, taking her wrist and pushing it away to her side. His lips were on her neck now, teeth scraping over the soft skin there. He smirked when her breath caught in her throat and her grip on his hair slackened, her hand falling to her side, eyes closing listlessly.
“Good girl.”
He pushed himself up with one arm, free hand pulling at her shirt, tugging it up. She moved with him, shifting so he could pull the useless garment over her head.
The Witcher sad back on his knees, cat-eyes dilating as they scanned over her bare chest—couldn’t say he minded that she wore no corset. He laced his fingers through her soft hair once more, leaning down to kiss her again. This time, his kiss was full of hunger, and she returned it with just as need. His free hand slipped lower, gently grazing over her breast. She whimpered—actually whimpered at that soft touch.
‘Oh, Little Daisy, If my touch makes you whimper, just wait until you see what I can do with my mouth.’
He realized, of course, that she could not hear his thoughts the way that Yennifer could, but he was sure his eyes gave away exactly what he was thinking. In a millisecond, his mouth was on her left breast as he continued to knead her right. His calloused fingers pulling gently at her nipple as his tongue lapped at the other, drawing another moan from the half-elf. Her hands were balled into fists, clutching at the sheets like it was the only thing tethering her to reality. His lips closed over her taught nipple, sucking it into his mouth to continue lavishing it with his tongue. By now, she was writhing beneath him in pleasure. K Her breath hitched as he let his teeth scrape over the small bud, and he finally turned his attention to her other breast. He lavished it with equal attention, noticing the way she always sighed in pleasure as when his tongue flattened. He gave long, intentional licks as his no free hand traveled lower.
Her hips were already grinding against his, making it hard for him to concentrate on much more than his throbbing cock. He ached to be inside her, filling her completely as he thrust in and out until she screamed. But that could wait. A Witcher was always in control, and he had far more plans for her that night. He was so intoxicated with her—with her lavender and cedarwood scent, with her little moans and sighs, with the way her body moved under his and the way her small hands traced his shoulder blades and tangled in his hair—that he didn’t even remember ripping her skirt and underthings from her body. Neither of them minded.
His large fingers found her core, already slick with her intoxicating juices. They danced over her clit, eliciting several moans from her beautiful lips. He was teasing her now—tracing feather-light circles around the little bud.
Little circles, then back and forth, building up speed but refusing to press harder, enjoying watching her squirm. Her arms were almost flailing now, trying to grab at his hair, the sheets, or nothing at all. He didn’t need a mind-reader to tell him that she was not used to this kind of attention. He had no idea how any man could resist. He was almost worried he’d lose control just watching her pleasure-drunk eyes flicker open and closed.
After he was sure she was thoroughly lost in a haze of nothing but pleasure, he finally slipped one large finger inside.
“Fuck,” he half-grunted. She was so tight around his finger, her walls clenching around him. He couldn’t wait to bury his cock inside her.
But still—not yet.
He added another finger now, studying her face as he slowly drew them in and out, committing to memory each spot he touched that elicited the most reaction, and which ones made her head loll back on the pillow.
He found exactly what he was looking for quite quickly, watching this utter satisfaction as her eyes rolled into the back of her head, his name leaving her over and over again as he curled his fingers back and forth over her g-spot. Her eyes were closed when he put his mouth on her, his tongue now playing with her hardened little nub. Over and over he worked her clit, starting ever so slowly, fingers still rubbing against her g-spot. Over and over he continued, slowly building the pace and increasing pressure.
She was lifting her hips, trying to increase the pressure, urging him on faster and harder. He obliged without hesitation, listening to the wild thrum of her heartbeat. “G-geralt!” she gasped, voice breaking with the effort. “If you don’t… stop… I’m… going t—”
He removed his tongue from her soft folds only to peer up at her from between her legs, a smirk on his lips.
“Yes,” he said gruffly, “You are.” He used one hand to hold down her hips so she could not escape his fingers slamming into that same spot over and over. “You are going to be a good girl and cum for me.”
With that, his lips closed around her clit and he sucked it gently into his mouth, tongue dancing over the little nub as his fingers continued their assault. She screamed as she spasmed around his fingers, hips bucking wildly now as she rode out wave after wave of her orgasm.
He helped coax her back down with slow, gentle thrusts of his fingers. His tongue flattened against her, subtle movements bringing her back down to Earth.
* * *
You lay, still adrift in a sea of pleasure. Soft aftershocks from your orgasm electric in your veins. It had been so long since you felt this way—so at peace, so safe.
Geralt was up on his knees again, eyes fixated on you. He did not look at you with the harsh eyes full of contempt that you were so used to. He did not look at you as if you were a piece of silver. No, he did not look at you like you were his property, or like land he’d just conquered.
He looked at you like he wanted you.
[To be continued?]
#the witcher#geralt x reader#geralt of rivia x reader#fanfiction#the witcher fanfiction#geralt of rivia#geralt
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Fic title thing - heart held close to the moon and Neptune
...
...............
Neptune ... Neptune was the Roman god of the sea right? ... Just looked it up and yes he was so-
>:D
FF7
Mer
AU
But rather than EVERYONE being mer or whatever, it’s ONLY the three Soldier Firsts of canon. Sephiroth, Genesis, and Angeal who have never met any other mer, because Shinra are immoral and terrible and use propaganda to promote the idea that Mer aren’t REALLY just like humans in intelligence and emotional range and soul, they just happen to look human-ish on the top half. And because Mer are seemingly extinct (read: in hiding), they have nobly “Resurrected” the lost line of the “most exotic creatures of the sea” in Sephiroth, Genesis, and Angeal and claim to be in the process of cloning female Mers to “reintroduce the species”.
Except mer are NOT animals.
Mer are the children of Gaia’s oceans, the pulse of her waves and tides, touched by her moon on high. Mer are MAGIC and they will not be contained.
They escape, by the skin of their teeth and with many bloody scars, helped by the last of descendant of the True Mer (Aerith) who can walk on two legs for a time because of her half-human blood. They flee, out into the wild waters, just the three of them as a pod, rapidly protective of their little Pod Queen Aerith, their little sister in their eyes for all it would doom mer to extinction again. So they swim, up river and through lake and through the sea, and sometimes Aerith stops to visit the human woman who cared for her as a child and to tend the garden on two legs while the other three lounge in the little pond and sing softly together, and it’s ... nice.
Then Aerith meets Zack. Zack who is a cheerful sellsword rather than a Shinra plaything, who still respect the Old Ways as best as an ignorant human can, and Aerith adores him and so despite what they want, Sephiroth, Genesis, and Angeal refrain from dragging him below the waves and eating him for trying to court their sister. But Zack is genuine and not cruel like the other humans they’ve met, he gets along with Elmyra and dotes on Aerith and Angeal ends up taking him under his fin after Zack nearly falls in and downs in the pond because surprise this idiot CAN’T SWIM, and really that is that. They have another human in the pod.
Zack tells them all sorts of stories, of the lands they’ve never seen. Jungles and deserts and icy mountains, and in those stories one name and description comes up a lot, the other, younger sellsword Cloud Strife. A fierce little mountain girl who still swears to the Old Spirits and avoids Fairy Circles and will not set foot on a boat until she’s made a sacrifice to the lost Children of the Sea. He describes his “little buddy” so often during his tales that really, it’s no wonder Sephiroth RECOGNIZES the woman while on a solo hunt, struggling in the water, bubbles escaping her mouth and nose, arms and legs bound from where she’s been THROWN OVERBOARD by pirates stealing the ship she had booked passage on.
Sephiroth screams and the storm screams back. The pirates stand no chance and Sephiroth pays them no more mind as he dives down for Cloud, ripping the ropes apart with his claws, swims her up to the surface and realizes that the storm he just summoned is a PROBLEM. The waves are too high for him to keep the human’s head above the water and she’s already NOT BREATHING and Sephiroth can’t just- UNSUMMON a storm, but this girl is Zack’s friend and Zack is pod which makes THIS ONE pod and Sephiroth-can’t-let-her-die-.
Sephiroth holds her close and sings-sings-sings, struggling against death, screaming to the moon to spare this human, to make her SURVIVE somehow, because Sephiroth has too few people in his life and he cannot afford to lose any of them, even one he has never met before.
And Sephiroth-
Sephiroth was Hojo’s finest creation. He was grown from the blood of the most Ancient mer. The Wild Kin even Aerith’s race of mer feared for their power, their savagery, their ability to wrap up the world in their voice and SHAPE it the way they wanted. Jenova is not an alien virus in this au, oh no, Jenova was The Sea Witch. The most feared and powerful and deadly o the Wild Kin, the last to fall in their war against the much more numerous humans and Cetra mer that had banded together against the Wild Kin and their Sea Witches. Jenova was the one who cursed the Cetra and decimated their numbers, she was the one to freeze the great northern sea mid-motion like a glacier around a great crater.
Jenova is, in a morbid, cloned sense, his mother.
Sephiroth sings.
The world obeys.
The body in his arms changes.
Cloud breathes in water and does not drown.
When Cloud groggily wakes up three days later, it’s to one very frantic Zack hovering over her face, the sky above her head, and the weird sensation of being submerged from the waist down. She remembers being knocked off the ship and sits up in confusion-
Looks down and doesn’t see legs.
The glittering tail of ink black and spiraling ice blue twitches spasmodically under her stare, responding to her desperate attempts to move legs that AREN’T THERE ANYMORE.
Cloud starts screaming and all the glass and quite a bit of nearby stone shatters.
While Zack and Aerith help deal with ... THAT whole mess, Sephiroth lurks guiltily in the nearby river, not daring to enter the pond while Genesis whimsically notes that aside from the ice blue swirls, her tail exact same shade of black as his, so does that mean she’s a full blooded Wild Kin now? Genesis and Angeal aren’t, because they have bright red and bright blue scales with black highlights respectively, sign of Wild Kin blood but not nearly as pure as Sephiroth’s jet black and trademark silver hair and slitted eyes. Angeal slaps Genesis over the head and says there are bigger things to worry about, because SINCE WHEN was any kind of magic strong enough to transform a human into an ACTUAL MER and what do they do now? Sephiroth already tried turning her back, but it didn’t work, because that kind of Song that remakes the world itself can only be used on a person on that large a scale ONCE, so now they’re stuck and how will they explain any of that to Zack’s formerly-human friend.
Sephiroth continues to lurk at the bottom of the river, feeling very guilty. He didn’t mean to do that. He meant to save her, not transform her, and the entire thing tastes too much of Hojo’s lab and his unwanted experiments and talk of using Sephiroth’s blood to create clones or hybrids.
Maybe once Zack and Aerith calm her down she won’t entirely hate him?
Who is he kidding, she’ll probably try to gut him with her bare claws.
(Anyway a sort of Modern-Fantasy AU where Mako is a thing but the SOLDIER program isn’t, Mer are a thing, and Fem!Cloud and Sephiroth end up doing an enemies to lovers slowburn but more in a you-transformed-me-against-my-will-so-I-HATE-YOU to friends to lovers way.)
(Also Hojo tries to do more evil shenanigans and Shinra hopes to conquer the world, but that all gets shut down by the Pod because fun fact you can’t run a wold spanning empire if all your ships keep mysteriously getting sunk. It’s not like you can helicopter EVERYTHING over the water, especially since all air traffic gets rapidly shut down by the mysterious super storms that blow in when they try. Reeve eventually gets accidentally kidnapped by the Pod and converted to their side so he starts looking into non-Lifestream power alternatives and Rufus is on board because honestly there’s nothing like a couple of mer arguing, IN YOUR LANGUAGE on whether they should eat you for your sins to make you rethink your life choices and by extension all your evil father’s life choices.)
(Also also Vincent and Felicia are both experiments by Hojo to see if he could create human-mer hybrids. Felicia is a sea serpent and Vincent sometimes forgets that Legs Are A Thing and so just sighs tiredly on Elmyra’s floor in all his red and black octopi glory. Veld is pulled on board the “lets kill Hojo and reform Shinra” boat after he nearly gets his throat torn out by his long lost daughter only for his long lost Turk partner to tackle her and talk her down from accidental patricide.)
(For reference, Sephiroth is a black beta fish with some silver edging on his fins, Genesis is a red with black stripes lionfish, and Angeal is a long-suffering blue and black lions fish. Aerith turns into a long-finned koi, and discovers quite by accident that if you kiss your human boyfriend enough times he gains the ability to breathe underwater and transform into a mer for a few hours before changing back into a human again.)
(And because I’m on a roll, Nanaki is still a cat-lion-thing, Cait Sith has underwater capabilities, Jesse, Wedge, and Biggs are all incredibly baffled humans who aren’t sure how this is their life now, Tifa would like to know when and how her best friend became a Mer (Cloud: It’s all catfish’s fault. Sephiroth: hey.) Barret is a monstrously overprotective dad and Marlene is the world’s cutest baby mer and Sephiroth would literally destroy the world for her if she asked him too. Genesis would help him. Angeal would just sigh and hold Marlene out of the danger zone.)
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