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absentcaryatid · 2 years ago

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Love Takes Flight

An ATEEZ fanfic by AbsentCaryatid

The reader falls for Yunho when the idol uses their services as a pilot to regularly visit family back in Gwangju. With help from Wooyoung, the affection is finally revealed to be mutual.

2.8K words, Content note: gender neutral reader, suitable for all ages, reader is referred to by pronoun they, nonjudgmental mention of weight for fueling purposes, food

In later years you could laugh about accusing your future husband of being a smuggler the first time you talked, but in the moment, the misunderstanding was mortifying for both of you. Luckily, Yunho did not hold a grudge and everything went smoothly from then onward, other than that memorable concert of course.

He had called after discovering your advertisement for small scale cargo shipping between Seoul and Gwangju. “I'm having trouble finding someone to do what I need. I'm hoping I came to the right person. The matter is urgent and very important to me. I'll pay well.”

“Look sir, I don't know what you think I do, but I never get involved in anything illegal if that is what you are asking.” The tone was cold and firm. You did not have much, but you had pride in running a clean business despite the many lucrative opportunities you could have put your plane to.

Even through the phone Yunho's embarrassment at your assumption was evident. Between shocked gasps he spluttered out, “I would never. It is nothing like that.”

Cringing at how badly the discussion was going, you became very apologetic. “I should not have jumped to that conclusion so quickly, I just like to make things very clear because people do ask it of me sometimes.”

Yunho was kind about the mistake. “I understand, and appreciate your integrity. Phrasing things so oddly was my fault. I'm in a bind and not thinking well. I'm the cargo.” He went on to explain that he needed a flight back to his hometown. “When I have the time off I go by car, or can take the high-speed rail from Yongsan Station, but the schedule is too tight that day. Even the commercial flights from Gimpo Airport to Gwangju International won't get me there when I need to arrive.”

“This sounds serious. Business trip?” Your attention became focused on how extravagantly to charge the man for passenger service while you supposed his corporate jet was grounded for repair. Given the convenience of scheduled airline flights to Gwangju, nobody had ever asked your small business focused on freight to deliver them before, so you intended to make the most of the opportunity.

“My little brother is getting an award at a school function and I would like to be there. I have missed so much of his life due to my work and I really want to do this for him.”

Your heart went out to Yunho. With a reason like that, you easily agreed to help. “Give me your weight and I'll calculate the added gas expenditure at no markup. I was already headed to Gwangju that afternoon anyway and can easily shift the time to what you need.”

Yunho's sigh of relief was heavy. “Thank you a million times over. I'll owe you a lot for this, and maybe can do something for you one day, concert tickets or something like that.”

“Hmm, I'm not very into music, but I could always take my mother to a trot concert. Sports teams are more my thing. Big fan of Gwangju FC and Kia Tigers.”

“Football and baseball, looks like we will have a lot to talk about on the flight. I look forward to it.” With that, Yunho was gone and you practically forgot about him until the day of the unusual job.

Dressed handsomely in a suit and looking straight from the hairdresser, Yunho greeted you at the hangar with a respectful handshake. “Thank you again for being able to accommodate me. My dad wanted me to be a dentist, and sometimes I think I would have liked a career that let me live near family, but I wouldn't give up my job for the world.”

When he did not elaborate on his profession, you led Yunho to the secondhand twin-engine turboprop modified for carrying freight rather than passengers. “I'm usually hauling delicacies from Jeolla province to Seoul. I know you planned to take the high-speed rail tomorrow, though if you want to catch the return flight you are welcome to. No cost, but it is an early call. This run includes pastries one of my clients wants to wake up to and nobody makes them like her favorite shop in Gwangju. As long as they are willing to pay for that service, I am happy to provide since I enjoy spending as much time in the air as I can.”

Yunho accepted the terms. “I can handle waking early, no problem.”

“You will also need to wear a headset for noise and communicating through the microphone. It takes some getting used to, but it is necessary, I'm afraid.”

Perhaps Yunho was nervous, for he hid laughter behind a hand before answering. “Pretty sure I can work with that too.”

“The cargo area has some fold down seats. If you would prefer a bit more comfort and a view you can have the co-pilot seat.” Usually you had a preference for solitude in the cockpit, but you did not mind at all when Yunho agreed to join you. Even from the original phone call you had liked him, and meeting in person had only added to his appeal.

The flight went off without a hitch and after less than an hour the small plane landed in Gwangju. Time had gone quickly due to Yunho's ease at conversation covering for some of your own lesser social skills. You looked forward to the return trip, wondering if he would be as sociable at dawn.

With far more energy than your own, Yunho thoughtfully met you at the hangar the next morning with a coffee in each hand. That led you to bring out spare pastries because it would have been impossible for either of you to survive the trip otherwise with the fresh baked goods filling the plane with their enticing scent.

In flight he shared some photos from the night before. A proud looking Yunho was standing beside a young teen almost his own height, flanked by beaming parents with a touch of gray hair. There were also plenty of pictures from the award ceremony. Yunho's voice on its own was lovely, but to hear it filled with such pride in his scholastically accomplished brother made it even more attractive.

With Yunho's approval, you got into the habit of texting him whenever you were headed to his hometown. Taking advantage of the opportunity, sometimes he came along in the co-pilot seat to get more time in with family here and there. Over many round trip flights you could accurately say you became friends, bonding with Yunho over sports, video games, and the joy of browsing at Gwangju's Kumho World Electronics Market.

Sometimes Yunho would even sing scraps of songs, leaving you in awe of his voice. The suggestion he was good enough to do it for a living put a smile on his face. As time went on the conversations became more personal, and you shared hopes for the future. Marriage and family were something you both desired when the right person came along.

It should not have surprised you that these steady hours spent together had you falling for the kind man. You were sure his good looks brought lots of attention, but it was Yunho's gentle nature and love for his family that first won you over. To realize you were compatible in many ways sealed the deal on your end.

Nobody made you laugh like he could, and while the hopeful side of you wondered if it was proof he liked you back, the more rational part of your brain recognized Yunho probably was that charming with everyone. Still, you noticed he started to make use of your phone number to text more than flight bookings. The occasional messages were warm inquiries into how your day was going that seemed genuine in their interest and a way to keep in touch between flights. At the very least you figured he considered you a friend, and that felt pretty good.

Yunho never spoke about his profession, but you guessed he was a businessman from the long hours he kept. It made you glad to be self-employed and in control of your schedule in a way Yunho seemed not to be. That ability to set your own timetable for work came in handy when a call came in one night just after you had fallen asleep.

Yunho apologized for the contact at such an unusual hour, but mentioned he was desperate. He and his co-workers had a flight from LAX to Incheon International Airport. They had been scheduled to arrive far earlier but multiple delays kept cropping up and they had been unable to switch to a different plane despite constant efforts from his staff.

In a sleepy haze you mentioned your little aircraft was not able to handle international travel. Once his laughter died down Yunho let you know that was not what he was asking. They were finally about to board the delayed plane and it was being given priority to take off. Instead, he asked if you could fly eight people to Gwangju once they landed at Incheon. There was an appointment that could not be rescheduled and he was desperate to know if you could get the group there in time.

“My cargo plane is not particularly comfortable, but it will get the job done. I'll be ready to go at Incheon tomorrow when you get in.”

“You are saving me again. I really do owe you tickets this time. Text me the details where to meet if you would. Thank you and sleep well.”

With a final yawn you mumbled, “Goodnight Yunho, sleep well too,” then ended your call as you heard cheers on the other end of the line.

Straight off the plane from Los Angeles due to a customs wavier, the group of casually dressed men arrived from the other side of Incheon airport in two security vans, lights flashing. Impressed, you realized Yunho must be a more important person than you knew to get such treatment from the airport. Your own flight plan from Gimpo airport that morning had been similarly easy to obtain permission for, even with such short notice.

Despite his youth, perhaps Yunho was high up in a family business. Still, companies powerful enough to get special treatment would have had a corporate jet of their own for his use. In many ways your friend was still a mystery to you, making you feel you really weren't that close after all. His companions too gave off the air of college kids, but on a second look their comfortable clothes bore the names of fashion houses making you wonder if there was more to them as well.

Passengers now aboard, you prepared to take off for Gwangju. While the majority of the guys who had quickly introduced themselves in passing were now slumped on the cargo area's bench seats fast asleep, Jongho rode as your honorary co-pilot to enjoy the view. Like Yunho, he adapted just as easily to talking through the headset, though he did make a joke about preferring a handheld microphone.

The trip was mostly quiet, with a few questions about the landscape below or the plane's operation. There was one diversion into more personal matters, however. “Yunho has been much happier keeping in closer contact with his family these days. I sense he has another reason too. Yunho mentions you a lot.” Jongho's thoughts ended there, at least the ones he shared, but it gave you things to think about as well. You wondered if one day you could open up to Yunho about how much you truly cared for him. However, that was a matter for another day as you turned your focus to preparing to land as the destination drew near.

Stepping down from the plane, Hongjoong was grateful you had pulled off this logistical miracle. “Thanks to you we won't let ATINY down.”

“ATINY? Never heard of that before. Is that the name of your company?”

Seonghwa was so taken with laughter that he clapped. With a sly smile and a glance to Yunho he asked, “They don't know do they?”

You were too busy to ask what he meant as you rushed the men to your waiting panel van kept in Gwangju for your work. Thanks to a friend who owed you a favor, the modular seats had been reinstalled and you could truck people instead of the usual cargo.

As you drove away from the airport you received directions to their destination along with a little bit of information about ATINY and ATEEZ. It was a shock to discover you had the honor of ferrying an idol group headed to a performance. To the relief of everyone involved, the group easily made it to the festival in time for the line check.

While you watched in amazement from the wings, a KQ Entertainment staffer from the advance crew brought you a festival ticket for the VIP area closest to the stage, compliments of Yunho and the rest of the guys. With time to spare before the evening concert, you could now relax. While Yunho had hours of preparation ahead of him, he had suggested you explore Gwangju's K-Pop Star Street in Chungjang-ro now that his secret identity was known.

As you walked along you began to get a sense of how popular ATEEZ was. A blue and yellow Treasure Ep. 3 album cover was among the shutter murals lining the avenue. Another spot listed quite a number of K-pop artists who had lived in Gwangju followed by a collage that included childhood photos of the local idols. Among them was an adorable toddler in a backwards cap. You suspected that kid with a spoon in his mouth was Yunho so you took a photo to ask him about the next time he caught a ride to visit family.

Gwangju had done a really great job of promoting their homegrown artists. While you might not have recognized the idols' names, even you had heard of the groups 2NE1, Monsta X, Wonder Girls, and BTS. For Yunho to be listed among them told you he had been incredibly modest about his accomplished life. If you had ever taken a walk here before you might have recognized Yunho as a star by name or looks when you first met. It probably was for the best he had the chance to be known as just an everyday guy on your flights together.

The final stop was a wall of cast metal handprints. When you found Yunho's among them you had to place your own in the same spot. Looking like any other fan, you took a picture to remember how the size compared to your own. Perhaps as other fans did too, you wondered how it would feel to hold his hand, go on a date together, hear him profess love for you.... The fantasy ended as the alarm on your phone reminded you to head back in time for ATEEZ's appearance.

Impressed. That was about the only thought you could manage after watching the performance. Yunho had been quite a secret keeper, and you admired his discretion and humility rather than feel slighted by the secrecy.

Before they left the stage, Hongjoong thanked the festival committee for inviting them. Mingi added appreciation to ATINY for being there, and Wooyoung spoke last with grateful words for the pilot who made their appearance possible after flight delays coming off their latest tour. Not one for the spotlight, you shrank in your seat as Wooyoung briefly described your heroic efforts to get them there. “The best way I can thank you is to tell you Yunho has had the biggest crush on you forever but he is too timid to say so!”

The first to recover his wits after such a bombshell, Seonghwa roughly yanked Wooyoung off the stage. His parental scolding could be heard over the screams in the crowd until his headset mic was cut. Many in the audience sounded delighted, but you figured there were some murmurs of envy as well. A few were heard to call out, “I love you too, Yunho!”

It was quick thinking on San's part to get you out of the audience and away from publicity, or being hit by a LIGHTINY from a heartbroken Yunho stan. San hopped down from the stage and assisted you in climbing over the barrier. When security staff protested, Yeosang was right by his side insisting this was a necessary safety precaution as they hustled you off to their dressing area.

Still on stage, Mingi unsuccessfully tried to usher a frozen Yunho into the wings. Jongho wisely solved the problem by passing his microphone to Mingi then hoisting Yunho over his shoulder and carrying him backstage. Finally reunited with Yunho, the other members drew back to give you some privacy. The positive conversation was short and ended with a tentative kiss, then shy smiles all around. ATEEZ's performance at the K-pop festival was memorable for many things that year, but it would best be remembered as a very public beginning to your romantic relationship with Yunho.

Yunho Masterlist

General Masterlist

#ATEEZ fanfic #Kpop fanfic #Kpop fluff #ATEEZ Fluff #gender neutral reader #diverseinsertknet #Yunho x you #Yunho x reader #cross posted on ao3 #Jeong Yunho #ATEEZ Yunho #it was a rare day off #they/them pronouns used for reader

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starlit-mansion · 11 months ago

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i feel kind of bad because i followed an author on here because i thought the premise of his next book sounded like something i would like, and i bought it and read half of it and.... ngl it sucks major ass.

it's billed as a romantic comedy and it's painfully weak at jokes, it's chock full of that therapy-talk thing that people make fun of (i lost my shit at one of the lead's ex wife scrupulously listing out her privileges as a straight white cis woman before literally spelling out that she thinks he might be demisexual based on an article she read once. like. who talks like that to their ex-husband. also she's just generally written like if a blank piece of paper was a person*), and it has an absolutely catastrophic case of fanfic pacing (ie something kind of uncomfortable happens and is immediately resolved within or by the next chapter so the plot just bobs up and down in a pool of tepid water rather than having any sort of swell and crash) and it has to instantly file down any flaw that the characters are ever shown to have. (this character's an alcoholic? that's okay, it's safely in his past and barely affects anything other than giving other people a chance to dither about whether or not they can drink in front of him before he assures them that it's okay. he was involved in a scandal? yes but it's not through any fault of his own. the love interest didn't realize he had the capacity to be attracted to a man before reuniting with his trans ex and being into him currently? don't worry, the narration will tell you twice that it's so wild that he's not experiencing any panic about his sexuality whatsoever because he's so naturally chill? the love interest has a demanding restaurant job? doesn't effect the plot in any way because he's never once been unavailable to do one of the 5 or 6 meandering hangouts that have stuffed the book so far, or even been tired or lost sleep even though him having some insomnia was established immediately.)

i keep wanting so badly to just like.... ooh, rewrite it a little bit. i can SEE like 4 places where a little needed conflict could go. I even second guessed myself like "maybe i'm not a good judge of contemporary romance novels because i only read regency romance novels" but then i remembered that's a dumb thing to think. I'm perfectly good at discerning weak plot, empty quip exchanges, and preaching to the choir. it's just kinda bad lmao.

I do think it's funny that i chewed through half of the book while on an edible and then realized as soon as i sobered up that it was pretty terrible actually (to be fair. i was giving it a chance to pay off.... any potential conflicts. but it steadily refused to, and instead sprinkled in the tiniest bits of miscommunication to spin out the mutual pining for a couple more chapters. and a couple more chapters again), but also. i fucking never have anything to say about good books and i think i got $17 worth of value from being able to roast it so thoroughly.

*shoutout to drew gooden for that evergreen phrase, you changed my life

#i mean a book about standup/comedy writing and the restaurant industry and the complications of being queer in a small town...#shoulda been a slam dunk but it was such a whiff lmao #yo can dm me for the book's name but obviously i'm not going to post it.

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asirensrage · 1 year ago

Note

6, 8, 13, 14, 21 and 27 for the writing wrapped!

Sure! Thanks for asking!

6. Favourite line of dialogue this year?

hmmm... I really love this line from The Sacrifice (my unpublished Demon Slayer fic).

“Are you kidding? Look at yourself. You’ve been asleep for weeks! You lost an eye! You got lucky that I showed up and got involved! If I hadn’t caused enough of a distraction, you would have died!” "Then I should have died! As I was meant to!" The sound she lets out is somewhere between a scoff and a huff of laughter. "Wow. You have no idea, do you? Do you know how many people have thanked me for being there, for helping, all because it ensured that you lived? People I've never met before have thanked me. Your brother begged me to watch over you as you recover and you think you should have died? Out of everything I've heard about you, Rengoku-san, no one has said that you're selfish. I guess they are wrong.”

8. Did you find yourself repeating a word or phrase in your writing this year? If so, what was it?

I repeat myself a lot, to be honest. @vixenofcourse could probably tell you better because I don't remember.

13. Who was your favourite character to write for?

ALL OF THEM! I can't pick just one.

14. Did you have a song on repeat while writing this year?

I have playlists for all my fics that I usually listen to on repeat when I'm writing that fic. Otherwise, sometimes it's specific songs. It all depends on what I'm writing and the mood, so it's nothing on repeat all year.

21. Were there any ideas you wanted to work on this year but you didn’t?

No, because I don’t limit myself and my muse wanders off regularly, (as we all know). If I want to write something, I just write it. I will leave it and come back to it later, which is why I have so many WIPs.

27. What was your favourite fic to read this year?

Hmm... I have so many. Here are some that I've reread multiple times this year.

no one is what they were before by ohmytheon The world broke when Gojo Satoru turned on jujutsu society. It's not the hopeful place it was before, but Utahime has never been one to give up. Until she's placed in a dangerous position directly in his path, and she finds herself trapped in a web that doesn't seem intent on ever letting her go.

Echoes by YanderexBabydoll There’s a sadness that hangs thick and heavy in the air around you. Grief and pain etched into the very foundations of this house. But you’re broken, too – hollowed out with emotions still too raw to touch. Maybe that's why you were drawn to it.

(Tokyo Revengers. Sano Siblings x Reader. involves ghosts)

surrender (whenever you're ready) by OfMermaids (@ofmermaidstories) You first meet Ground Zero when he’s thrown, unceremoniously, through the glass window of your florist shop. (Bakugou Katsuki x Reader, Pro-Hero AU; in which Bakugou cannot stand flowers but finds himself coming back, anyway)

Plunders of war by MaryaMorevna "You for Shouto's life." Ivory-haired villain continued, his tone saturated with wicked delight. "I'll let him live, promise-" he made the obscene gesture of crossing his heart and laughed again. "What do you mean me?" my voice was barely above a whisper, afraid of its own sound. "You..." he stood up straight, as tall as Shouto. "Willing," -first step, "Pliant," -another step, "Wanton-" Dabi closed the distance, his rough hand lifting my chin up. "-In my bed." ... Villains win the war AU. Very dark so be warned.

The Pack Survives by ihopethelightwillshineupon When a simple C-rank mission turns into a straight-up nightmare, the members of Team Seven narrowly escape with their lives. They end up stuck in the middle of nowhere, each of them injured and forced to rely on one another for help. They’ve only been a team for a couple of weeks, still distant from one another, still trying hard to prove themselves. But when they’re all hurt and struggling desperately to survive, they have no choice but to lower their walls. Stranded far away from the village, Team Seven fights to get back home safely – but with help impossibly far away, with their food supplies shrinking and with their injuries slowing them down, their journey becomes more difficult with every step. In the wake of their struggle, though, their bonds grow steadily stronger.

fingerprints by andypantsx3 (@andypantsx3) When you’re outed as pro hero Shouto’s soulmate on national television, there are really only two sensible things for you to do: blame someone else and run. (Deceiving the Duke and in cinders by andypantsx3 are also on the list of ones I've reread. They're so much fun, omg. But I'm trying not to expand this list too much lol) you can tell where my mind has been this year...

and, of course, any fics that are tagged under my "fic recs" tag.

Thanks again!

FANFIC WRITER WRAPPED 2023

#fanfic writer 2023 wrapped #fanfic writer wrapped #fanfic writer asks #fic recs #asks #mariedemedicis

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euphoric-melancholyy · 1 year ago

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the tender small gestures of love (and the way they all add up)

A Max & Tisaanah (The War of Lost Hearts) Fanfic

Summary: Max takes care of Tisaanah after a long day.

“I love you, Maxantarius Farlione,” she said, still breathless. She kissed him again, tasting herself on his lips. “Bed - let’s,” she moaned as he caught her lip in his mouth and bit down, leaving her momentarily dizzy with lust. “Let’s go to the bed.”

“I can’t carry you and step out of this tub without tripping and catching us on fire,” he mumbled between kisses, not ready to part for even seconds.

Tisaanah threw back her head in a laugh, and stepped out of the tub. He followed. She made a show of standing up straight, jutting her chin up and out.

“I’m ready to be carried now,” she announced, erupting into a fit of giggles when he slung her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

3,000+ words of shameless smut with feelings

AN: There were no fanfiction for my favorite book series of all time, so obviously I had to rectify this, while challenging myself to write ✨intimate smut✨

Huge shout out to Carissa Broadbent for writing the greatest books I’ve ever read, with the most amazing characters. Please, never read this if you find it.

Also on Ao3

Leadership revitalized and drained Tisaanah simultaneously. She loved the feeling of power, of knowing that her actions and words would be listened to, but she could live without the constant performance. She had hoped that part of her life was behind her, but nearly everyday she found herself sliding that mask back on, schmoozing with the royals of neighboring nations and the government of the Alliance. She threw herself into it with unflinching brutality, working from the wee hours of the morning until long after the moon crested high in the sky. It was mesmerizing to watch from the outside, and she loved it like a child. But it was in these times that she often forgot to rest, eat, or just stop and breathe.

So it was with dreams of sleep and a quick bite of whatever the kitchens had leftover, that she found herself walking to her room. In the background, she could hear the sound of running water.

“Max?” she called. He came around the corner donning a navy silk robe embellished in a floral pattern, and Tisaanah bit her lip to keep from laughing at the sight.

“The savior returns,” he quiped in butchered Therini. He had been practicing it more lately, small phrases here and there. She silently admitted he was getting much better, but the accent was still…rough.

“All in a day's work. What are you wearing?”

“Didn’t you know these are all the rage in Threll now? I’m a man of high fashion.”

“Mysterious and fashionable snake man?” She hummed, walking up to him and placing her hands on his chest. “How’d I get so lucky?”

“You forgot caring, attentive, best teacher that I’ve ever had.” He lists the attributes off with his fingers. It was a great test of her will not to burst into laughter at the quip, and the energy drained from her. It was the type of bone-deep tiredness that kept her restless, staring at the ceiling and trying to quiet her mind, the list of things she needed to do on a never ending loop. She frowned at the thought of another sleepless night, even if given the time to rest.

“I’m too exhausted to keep up with this level of humor.” She leaned into his touch, the warmth of him enveloping her and settling her in a way that even sleep could not. If she could not sleep, at least she could lay against him and listen to the pitter patter of his heart, his arms wrapping around her in a loose embrace, his knee tucked between her legs.

“About that. . .” He interlocked their fingers together pulling her with him around the corner to -

A bath, illuminated in the flicker of half a dozen candles. The scent of oils, lavender and something else she couldn’t place in her sleep deprived mind, wafted through the air. At the wide lip of the tub sat a tray full of fresh foods - fruits and bread, pork and cheese, and a bottle of wine.

If she felt tears in her eyes at the chasm of love in her chest, she’d blame it on the smoke from the candles, though it was barely there. This man, who had been working just as tirelessly as her, had prepared this for her. She could feel the heat of the water in the air from where she stood, the perfect scalding temperature. Her jaw dropped open in a choked “thank you.”

“Let me take care of you, my love,” he whispered, his voice reverent as a prayer. “Let me undress you.”

“You never have to ask,” she responded, just as softly. His calloused hands grazed her collarbone, their usual roughness masked by a thin layer of lotion that smelled of eucalyptus. She inhaled it, relishing how it mixed with ash and lilac scent of him as he slowly, so slowly, drew a path down and out, settling his hands on the lapels of her jacket. He removed her jacket first, undoing the buttons with a military trained skill, the thick material swooshing as it slid from her shoulders to pool on the floor. Her breath hitched as his hands went to her stomach, just above her waist. His nails lightly scratched at the soft expanse of skin there, the barest tickle of a caress, before he pulled her shirt up and over her head. As he continued to unclothe her, she watched him with a laser eye focus; the way his throat bobbed with every hitch of her breath, the broken lined-tattooed surface of his muscles straining with restraint, already needing to hold himself back. As his hands moved to the waistband of her pants, her stomach clenched. And when he finally slid her underwear down the length of her thighs, then her legs, the soft cotton tickling at the motion, she felt her breaths unconsciously hasten. And when she stood fully bare and exposed to the chill of the air, his eyes met hers and he smirked.

“I’ve kept it hot for you,” his voice was rough as he spoke, stepping to the side and directing her to the tub with a dramatic flourish of his arm.

She felt too choked up to speak, so she silently walked the two steps to the tub, letting out a satisfied moan as she submerged her body in the water. She dunked her head in, and his hands scratched at her scalp moments later, massaging shampoo into it. Tisaanah hummed in contentment, relaxing under his ministrations. He grabbed a cup and filled it, pouring fresh water atop her head to wash the soap out.

“Stand,” he instructed as he stripped off his robe and stepped in to join her, rubbing soap between his palms before caressing her shoulders, circling them until the soap was white foam upon her fragmented skin. He kneeled down, and she jerked as he rubbed along the back of her knees, up to her thighs, and over her pelvic bone, back and around to her ass. As he worked, he didn’t speak, didn’t need to as she turned to accommodate the warmth of his hands, soap dripping down her body. Gods, being touched this way was. . .She didn’t have words for it, the gentle way he touched her, pouring his whole self into caring for her, cleaning the grime of the day from her skin, and somewhere deeper in her soul too. It wasn’t even sexual, not completely, but it didn’t stop the butterflies from fluttering in her stomach, and a tightening in her chest and her core where desire pooled. The intimacy of it all brought tears to her eyes, but still she didn’t feel like crying - didn’t know if she could stop if she started to release the pent up stress of the past several weeks in that way.

There were other ways she’d much prefer to release it all.

She watched the firelight cast shadows across his skin, the insides of his arms, his shoulders, chest, and legs, as he poured more water over her, washing the suds of soap away. “All clean,” he murmured, after pouring the water over her thrice more. Her eyes locked with his. “There’s food, too. I probably should have asked about that first, actually. I had -”

“I’m not hungry for food.” Tisaanah cut him off, lifting her brow in challenge. It wasn’t exactly true - she knew she needed food. It just wasn’t what she wanted, no needed, most right now. “You’re beautiful,” she breathed, eyes taking in the dark ink encompassing most of his skin, the muscles of his abdomen tightening with each inhale of shaky breath. She hated those tattoos most days, its ink a permanent reminder of the hell he had been through. But they were his, and theirs, and a part of him now, so how could she hate anything that was part of him? She supposed he felt the same way about her scars.

She could see the moment his mind changed course from getting her to eat and sleep to giving into the consuming lust, his already hard cock twitching.

“I’m not either. Let me taste you.” He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around her. She started to kneel before him, but he urged her up and back. The tub sat against the wall, and she sat at its edge. He kneeled before her, looking into her eyes from between her spread legs. She could feel her breath quickening at the sight of him, and he had barely touched her. “This is about taking care of you, Tisaanah, not me. Let me. Just relax, and let me take care of you. You don’t have to do anything.”

“How can I say no to that, my mysterious snake man?” her voice was raspy, breathless, and she felt giddy with it. Drunk on the feel of his damp skin against her wet skin, the erratic beat of his heart against her flesh. Max groaned at her words, and she felt the vibration of it against her torso. He took one nipple into his mouth, biting then sucking before smoothing it over with his tongue. Rivulets of water still streamed down her skin, and he licked each droplet as it touched his lips, moaning as she bucked her hips up.

“You taste -” he repositioned himself, so that his head was level with her entrance, breath hot against her. “So fucking good, Tisaanah.” His tongue traced a path up her folds and back down again, stopping just before he reached her clit. Gods, she was going to explode at the slow, euphoric torture. “You work so hard, harder than anyone I’ve known, just trying to make the world a better place. It’s so -” his words cut off on a groan, her hips rolling to meet his mouth. “Sexy. I love you so, so much.” He spoke the words into the wetness of her sex, sucking her into his mouth between words.

Gods, she was burning for him. With him. Utterly and completely burning.

She needed more, needed him closer, needed his hand inside her, circling her clit with his thumb while he pumped his fingers in and out. She needed somewhere to put this overwhelming love that was burning within her.

As if he could hear her thoughts, he pumped two fingers inside of her, throwing his head back in a moan.

“You’re so tight, so ready.”

Her back arched and she cried out as he found his rhythm, heat building and coiling as his pace picked up. A dozen curses tumbled from her mouth, a nonsensical mix of Therini and Aren and his name, a plea and a prayer. It was too much and yet not enough, never enough even as she felt as if she would burst from her skin, layers of masks and walls disregarded for him and leaving her at the barest, most vulnerable version of herself. Always for him. Only for him, her equal, her home. As much as he teased her about being savior, he saved her too in more ways than she knew how to articulate, or will ever know how to express.

“Harder,” the word came out as a whimper, and his thumb obliged, pressing against her clit as he pumped his fingers harder, faster inside her, curling inwards.

“Come for me, love. Let me feel you come, let me taste you as you come.” And fuck, she didn’t know if she could stop now if she tried, tension coiling with each thrust of his fingers, every swipe of his thumb.

Gods, oh gods, she couldn’t - “Max I - I -” Her breath stuttered out as her orgasm shattered, seconds or minutes where she was nothing and no one and everything all at once, her control leaving as she rode wave after wave of pleasure.

As she came down, she felt his kiss at the side of her mouth, her cheek, whispers of sweet nothings - I’ve got you, you’re so fucking beautiful, so good to me, my love - into her damp skin.

Her clit throbbed in the wake of her pleasure, and already she wanted more of him. Her hunger for him had only grown, not been sated. He was a drug she’d never not need, a question and an answer, his heart a place for her soul to rest.

“I can’t carry you and step out of this tub without tripping and catching us on fire,” he mumbled between kisses, not ready to part for even seconds.

Tisaanah threw back her head in a laugh, and stepped out of the tub. He followed. She made a show of standing up straight, jutting her chin up and out.

“I’m ready to be carried now,” she announced, erupting into a fit of giggles when he slung her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

Tisaanah’s laughter turned to moans as he placed her on their bed and kissed a line down her neck to her breast, toying with the peak of her nipple. Already, she could feel her orgasm building again.

It didn’t matter that they’d done some version of this a hundred times before - making love or fucking or just basking in the presence of one another, drowning in it until all she could feel or think or breathe was Max, Max, Max - it undid her. She was a thread, unraveling and wrapping around him until there was no beginning or end to either of them - a quilt sewn together in the deepest recesses of her soul. Shocks of pleasure shot up her spine, and she felt like she could combust with its heady feeling.

“Tisaanah,” Max moaned, as the tip of his cock teased her entrance. “You feel so fucking good. Like,” He slid in, just barely, and then out, his erection grazing the tip of her clit. She whimpered at the sudden loss of him inside her, of the too light hardness against the bundle of nerves. “Like home.” Her hips bucked up to meet his, and he bit at her earlobe, sucking it into his mouth. “You’re so wet for me.” The words were a vibration against her jaw, and her back arched.

It hurt, Tisaanah decided, to be loved this tenderly. To love this tenderly in return.

“Maxantarius, please,” she begged. She was not above begging now. Her desperation, her need for him had reawakened her, renewed in the fire of passion all the energy she had lost.

His hand gripped the inside of her thigh, tight enough to bruise. She smiled at the thought of bearing his mark from this moment.

“Fucking hell, Tisaanah,” he groaned, sliding in fully. He slowed, planting soft kisses along every surface he could reach, her temple, her collarbone, her jaw, her hairline, her neck. He gave her body time to adjust to the size of him, and the weight of him above her, before slowly, so slowly, beginning to move.

“Beautiful,” he said. Each thrust was punctuated by her cry of ecstasy, her whole body trembling as he continued his slow, sensuous fucking.

Too slowly. She needed him deeper, a mindless desperation crescendoing through her with shocks of pleasure.

Hooking her leg behind his, she shifted her weight and flipped him to his back. The jarring motion brought simultaneous moans from them both, and she rolled her hips harder, faster, than the pace he set.

“I want to feel you against every part of me,” she growled between kisses, sucking at his neck as he sucked at hers, his nails leaving red half crescent marks where he gripped her hips. “I want you to fuck me until it hurts, brand the thrust of your cock between my legs.”

“Fu-” he moaned, a full body shiver wracking his body. “Fuck!”

“Exactly, just like that,” she encouraged, unconsciously rolling her hips and sending him deeper with each thrust.

She could taste the salt of her tears she had been keeping at bay before she even realized she was crying, overcome with the intensity of this, and him, the feeling of rightness in being with him, his cock pulsing against her walls. Tisaanah basked in it, as pleasure coiled and tingled throughout her whole body, drowning in the feverish, frantic sounds of their ragged breathing, flesh pounding into flesh.

“Max, oh gods, Max -” It was too much, too much, too much -

She let herself go just as he did. And together they fell.

As her awareness came back to her, she felt the heaving rise and fall of Max’s breathing beneath her, his arms wrapped around her pulling her towards him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, kissing a tear from her cheek.

She laughed, a short joyous breath, “Never better, now.” She smiled as she said it, peppering kisses along his jaw and down his neck. “I think I will stay right here forever.”

“You won’t hear any complaints from me.”

“We will be like cement people.”

“Statues?”

“Statues! Yes.”

“Well, that sounds considerably less fun.”

In response, Tisaanah rolled her hips, moaning at the friction where he was still inside her.

“That’s not very statue-like of you,” he growled out. But before he could continue, she lifted up and off him, and turned to face him.

“Maybe not a statue then, just-” she waves her arm in the air as if to encompass everything, something. “A thing that sleeps and fucks.”

He bursted out laughing, a full body cackle with his head thrown back.

“How poetic,” he added as his laugh subsided, smiling broadly at her.

“I am an amazing poet, Max.”

“Clearly.” He brushed her hair behind her ear with his finger, the sweetness of the touch sending goosebumps to the surface. “Stay right here,” he said.

She watched his retreating form, appreciatively staring at his ass with a glazed look. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of smoke wafting from the bathroom as he blew out the candles and returned moments later with a wet washcloth. The coolness of it against her entrance startled her as he wiped the stickiness of their sex away. After setting the washcloth aside on the bedside table, he rolled back over and pulled her atop him.

“In case I haven’t told you recently, I love you, Tisaanah.”

She relaxed into him, thinking back to the bath he had run for her, the food that now sat cold at its edge, and the reverent way he touched her, held her, made love to her. She thought back to the war, and how he’d fought for her when no one else had.

“I know. You say it with your actions everyday. You show me with more than words, better than words.” She wished she could bottle it, this bone deep contentment and bliss that overwhelmed her when she was with him. She could pour it in drops, soak in its perfume when the hard days won. She had never felt more fully known, and loved in every crevice of her damaged soul, than when she was with him. And when it felt like she could never do enough, be enough, for the world pulling her in a hundred directions, shouting its opinions in her face, she came to him. He made her feel cherished and safe. And in his arms, she let herself sleep.

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fully-caulked-wagon · 2 years ago

Text

Some of my favourite lines/passages from my shitty Aidungeon Zosan fanfics Part 7

Pretend that part 6 never said '(final)'. Pretend right now. Fic 4 (Again cause I've added like, 11,000 words to it since I posted the first fic 4 part.):

If his legs twitch in anticipation of a fight anymore than they are now, he's sure he'll come down with a severe case of the dancing plague. Dancing, being code for 28 rage-induced kicks to the cranium of dickhead sheriffs. - Don't ask me why I decided to reference a meme as dead as '28 stab wounds' cause I honestly don't know. Sanji startles slightly, running a hand through the back of his hair and sighing, "Right. Right. Yeah. See ya, I guess. If I die, make sure I'm buried by the lovely hands of Nami-Swan and Robin dear. And don't touch my kitchen." Zoro huffs and rolls his eyes, "If you die, we're throwing you straight in the bin." - "When I die, just throw me in the trash!" - Danny Devito Sanji stretches his arms high above his head and cracks his neck, "I'll be back before the Mosshead even has the chance to get lost in his own thoughts." "Oi!" - This is like, right after the previous excerpt, I just wanted to separate them. "Fucking Christ. Stupid fucking Marimo and his dumbass being right." - What a fool, what a nincompoop, what a buffoon, what an imbecile, what an ignoramus. Also - Jesus Christ canonically in One Piece verse, question mark exclamation mark? In fairness, he doesn't have to sneak through too many thin alleyways - none other than today, in fact. Getting shit talked by the mosshead, on the other hand? Not so mercifully infrequent. - Oof. Usopp is sat rigidly in his seat with a small smile on his face as the mosshead stacks the most miniscule fucking deck of cards Sanji has ever seen atop Usopp's nose - it somehow managing to have reached monstrous heights - while the scent of a stroke Sanji's almost convinced he's having wafts from the plate of 'buttered toast' Cal is munching on on the sidelines. - I just liked the phrase 'the scent of a stroke', honestly. Might be one of those things where it's only funny to me, idk. "Usopp thought you were dead!" Maria follows up calmly, "Zoro wished you were dead." - Double oof. Sanji's about however long it would take to read the full list of vegetables Luffy would willingly eat over meat - that is to say, a second at best, from growling. - This whole fic is just one big test of Sanji's patience, ngl. Sanji sighs and lets his head hit the table, a hollow 'thunk' ringing in his ears, the ringing growing stronger as the mosshead snorts in an unattractive and not at all endearing way, "That sound was your skull, shit Cook." "That sound was your brain trying to come up with original insults, jackass, shut up." "Scathing." "You don't even know what that means." - Triple oof. Sanji thanks the impending dread that fills the room for stopping him from blatantly swooning. - Ah, existential doom. A fickle mistress. Franky gives a low whistle, "Hot. ...I think." - There's a lot of things that are questionably hot in this world. Franky will fuck every last one of them. Sanji can feel his fucking ears turning red, damn this stupid perceptive bastard, "Che. I was just trying to figure out if your brain was small enough for a metal pole to go in one ear and out the other without making contact." "Bastard." - Goddamn shrubbery and their fucking observation haki. On his right there's a door labelled 'bathroom' that, once he opens it briefly to glance inside, gives way to a small room that can only really be called a bathroom on the technicality that the thing in the corner is probably a bath and the amount of space the area takes up is probably enough to be considered a room. - Ah, hotels. (Technically it's an inn, but shh.) Robin freezes in place once they reach the saloon, tilting her head slightly as she inquires to Franky, "By any chance, have you been rattling?" Franky simply smirks and opens up the door to his stomach fridge and extends a tiny hand in to fish out a pair of sea stone handcuffs, spinning it around on one finger and chuckling, "Maybe." - Dude just rattles sometimes, don't worry about it. Robin places a hand to her cheek, "Oh my. Perhaps this passageway has a connection to the future? It would be a shame if we passed through, and our bodies slowly aged and shrivelled up until we were nothing but bones and bolts." Franky sweats slightly, replying slightly shakily, "Yeah, that's uh... That's- Th... Please stop being so ominous. It's SUPER freakin' me out." - Yo. That would suck, I think. Franky chuckles, calming down somewhat, "Yeah, well, not in this case. I don't exactly find the slow, agonising aging of my body until I rot away particularly sexy - sorry." Robin hums, "That's fair, I suppose." - This is again almost immediately after the previous excerpt but yada yada. A couple beats of silence pass and Franky leans down and mutters, "Do I need to eeny-meeny-miny-moe this again, or...? I'm down for charging blindly in a random direction too if you are." - Again. Implying he's done that before. I refuse to think about the implications of that.

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lieutenant-amuel · 2 years ago

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since you write your stories in English, do you have any tips or stuff you’ve learned?

Hm, I’m not sure I have any tips to share?

Anyway, the thing I would advise to the non-English writers who write in English is to write in your native language first and then translate it into English. It takes longer to finish your work but it also allows you to put your thoughts together better. I always write like that, which is why one chapter of my fanfic usually takes me around one month, but I prevent myself from making many silly mistakes because in this case I also have more time for editing and thinking the plot through again.

I don’t know how the writing process goes for other writers but when it comes to me, my first draft, written in my native language, is extremely bad. This is nothing but a base for the future detailed-written chapter, so when I start translating, I fill all the gaps with better descriptions and smoother action scenes. I wouldn’t be able to do it if the chapter was originally written in English. I suppose this is because I’m still not fluent enough but no matter what the reason is, this is just the easiest and the most reliable way to write fanfiction for me.

However, I once wrote three drabbles about my original characters that I posted only here, on Tumblr, and they were written without “preliminary preparation.” I wrote all of them in English right away because they were short and kinda local if I can say so.

(and of course it doesn’t apply to my posts on Tumblr. Now when I’m writing this I write it in English, translating everything in my head and writing it down right away. So, my English when I chat with my foreign friends, my Tumblr English, and my fanfiction English are three completely different things)

I think I’d also advise to store somewhere (either in your head or create a separate doc where you can write them all down for the future reference) all the idioms you use in your fanfiction? I mean, idioms is a very specific language thing, and in my opinion, it makes your writing a lot more lively and natural language-wise. I swear once I learnt the idiom “to make someone’s blood boil”, I just started using it everywhere XD

(and an interesting thing is that writing all the metaphorical scenes/lines is a lot easier in English? Perhaps this is because I think my metaphors sound ridiculous in my language because I straight up know what they mean, whereas in English, I can let nature take its course, because yeah, my brain functions differently, I have no idea whether I can put those words together, forgive me.

A fragment from my fanfic, which I think sounds fantastic in English (at least there were two people who complimented it), but I sincerely have no idea how to say it in my language without sounding fake:

"That unforgettable feeling of the flames melting into your skin and spreading the burning pain from deep within your body. So, the only thing left for you is to scream. But you can't. As your lungs are squeezed by a suffocating embrace of smoke that doesn't let you take a single breath of fresh air. Yes. That's impossible to forget. But I have no desire to talk about it with anyone."

Another way to make your writing more natural, especially when you write dialogues, is to use more colloquial/slang phrases. I wouldn’t say that I’m very good at this myself, because it requires to know a certain language very well so you can sound like a native speaker. But you know, the more I watched some movies/TV shows in English, the easier it was to catch some common phrases that I could use both in my creative writing and casual speech (I swear you guys use the word “stuff” and the phrase “you know” almost in every sentence XD)

To conclude this part: write in your native language first so you can put your thoughts together better, have more time for editing, and generally make your life easier. Use more colloquialism, including idioms and slang, so your writing sounds more lively and feels more natural language-wise.

As for the things I’ve learnt, I finally understood English tenses (or at least got a clearer picture of them). You know, it’s hard to get the hang of them when there’s only three of them in your native language and the way the English tenses are explained in the school books literally makes them sound unnecessary a lot more complicated than they actually are XD

I’ve learnt a few new words (that I now use literally in every chapter :’D), I know a lot more about English punctuation. The things I still struggle with are conditional sentences (specifically the type 3, but you know) and neither and nor? I’m not sure what’s wrong with them exactly, but they confuse me sometimes. And the famous English articles, I hate them with all my might <3

I think I’ve generally improved my English because I feel a lot more confident when I write in this language (although, really, I’m not the one to judge, writing ridiculous mess with confidence is not that difficult :’D). When I wrote my first chapters, I maniacally checked every sentence, every word (because I also had no beta reader), and reread what I’d written zillion times. I’m still careful with what I write but I don’t feel that nervous about it anymore.

Those are basically the only things I can say, hope I’ve managed to answer your question!

#Ask me anything #My writing #And well the most obvious tip is to keep learning English #Practice your skills and interact with the language every day so your brain can absorb and store new information #And if you have the native speakers among your friends ask them to proof read for you #so they can point out your mistakes and you can learn from them #But don’t let your mistakes upset you you’re learning and it automatically makes you amazing

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shittyblogname · 3 years ago

Note

Hello! I thought of a cute fanfic idea for Michael x reader. What if Michael and the reader work at Sister Location and they have to hide under the desk together? Thank you, keep up the good work! Have a good day/night :)

Thanks for the request :), I have 2 more Angst requests that I'm gonna write either tonight or when I slept (its 4am here lol) but Michael fluff is always wanted >:)

Warnings: tight space, bidybabs (those mfers haunt me in my Nightmares)

When I write these sorta long requests I listen to the ambience of the game we're talking about & it always gives me the creeps when I reread my own writing for mistakes 💀 (with the phone guy angst I listened to the classic Fazbear chime & legit felt like I'm being watched, dunno if any other horror writer has this xd)

I deadass replayed that Night just for accuracy here

I finished this at 5:15am so forgive me for wacky spelling or weird phrasing oof

The lights went off as Handunit informed both of you about the Situation, a slight panic rising in your chest. You turned to Michael, who seemed to have trouble finding his flashlight. "Oxygen?!" you whisper-shouted, furrowing your eyebrows. "Yeah, crazy innit? We're so deep down that they have to use artificial ways of getting enough into this place." he sounded so calm, as if he's had to do this before. You knew a little bit about him, at least what he was willing to tell you. For example that he mainly works for his father, and he was stuck in establishments similar to this one previously. The motion trigger went off, causing you to flinch slightly. Michael raised his eyebrow, turning around to shine the dim light to the vent both of you came from. "entry way? Nobody's supposed to be here at night." you crossed your arms, arching your brows. "oh really? Who would've thought?" the slight anger and fear in your voice was clear to him, although you were more mad at the system for being so wack. The voice spoke up again, this time telling you about the maintenance vents. Michael pinched his nosebridge in annoyance. "How is it possible that he can think of such technologies in Robots, but not make a stable system that the place runs on?" You chuckled quietly at his words, a image of who he was talking about coming up in your mind. His dad, William Afton. He talked about him before, but when you met him for the job application you instantly got goosebumps around him. Tall, lanky, that creepy smile. It all came together for the looks of a perfect serial killer in your opinion, and that comment made Michael laugh for a good bit when you shared those thoughts in the main office.

"seriously! I've never seen such a creepy dude before." you leaned back in your chair, taking a sip of water from the bottle that you brought with you. Michael was still laughing, the sound of which making your heart flutter. He wiped away a few tears that formed, sitting back up straight. "oh man, I haven't laughed like that in a while." he faced you, a gentle smile on his lips. "thanks."

Suddenly, another female started speaking, startling both of you. You faced Michael again, unsure of what to do. He looked like something wasn't the way he was told it's gonna be, however you quickly dismissed that thought. You opened your mouth to say something, but the horror took a hold of you. Why would you need to hide? You hesitated kneeling down to find the space, heartbeat picking up the pace. Michael however searched around the desk, pulling the heavy steel aside, revealing the hiding spot. "I don't like this Michael-" your voice was trembling, just like you. "come on, we don't have a choice." he turned his head to look at you, concern written all over his features. Slowly, you made your way into the tight space, making sure to not take up more than necessary. He took his place in next to you, almost sitting in front in a protective manner. Pulling the door shut, your ears began to ring. A deafening tone spreading through the small room, forcing you to grab Michael's arm in panic. 'Try not to make eye contact' it was, you feared whatever would be on the other side. He slid his hand down to your hand, grabbing it in a firm hold in an attempt to reassure you. You shared a look with eachother, his eyes soothing you like a warm shower despite the worry circling in them. You jumped when the sound of metal hitting the plate seperating you from the machine on the other side echoed through the office. You were shaking, hysterically checking every single hole in the door before finding a eye. Icecold shivers ran down your spine, causing you to snap your head into the other direction, hitting Michael's shoulder. He ran his thumb over the back of your hand, encouraging you to hide your face there. He did as instructed, avoiding eye contact. Your heartbeat throbbed in your ears as you felt the door sliding open, eyes wide with horror. You grabbed onto whatever you could, trying to rip it out of the steel hands from the Robot on the other side. Eventually, it let go again, whispering that they 'have to leave now', followed by silence. Michael shone his light through the openings, looking into the room to make sure this wasn't a trick before opening the cover. He slid out first, grabbing your hand to help you stand. There was a moment where he held you close to him, gently rubbing your back to comfort you. The female voice spoke up again, then Handunit. You shared another look with Michael, agreeing to stay where you were for a bit before you hid your face in his chest again.

#michael afton #Michael afton x reader #michael afton x reader angst #writing #FNAF #fanfiction

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

Text

@buckyownsmylife hey babe! Remember that one time you threw that cool challenge? Here's my entry. Prepare to get absolutely ruined because daddy!Bruce is exactly that sort of man.

main masterlist ☀️ taglist

emotional support nerd

Your best friend's dad, Dr. Bruce Banner, is hotter than you thought he would be. 6k words, NSFW. Kind of Alt!Reader - she refers to herself as 'goth' in one instance. Tony Stark makes an appearance because God forbid I write a fanfic without him in it.

This is filthy pron, ft. age difference (reader is college aged) daddy kink, throat fucking, dirty talk, praise kink, cream pie, possessiveness, belly bulge and ending with a hint at a threesome. I really crammed all I could from Eyre's wheel in here, didn't I. Oh well.

"How much longer, dad?" Lyra's annoyed voice struck a chord within me. I tried to hide my snickering - unsuccessfully might I add - causing my best friend to shoot me a hurt look, equally fed up with me as she was fed up with her forgetful adopted father. "You know what, we'll take the subway."

Lyra's father's voice, both agitated and apologetic, reached my ears in bitten-off phrases as the traffic noises around us grew in volume, NYC rush hour rapidly approaching its peak.

With a sound huff, Lyra removed the phone from her ear, staring me down with the most amount of petulance I've ever seen on her usually reserved, placid face. "It's twenty more minutes. Apparently he's driving Tony's car," she offered in the way of explanation, like it actually did anything to better the cold, wet situation we found ourselves in. "Please, and I can't stress this enough, please don't be weird."

I felt a flood of amusement at Lyra's pleading tone. "Darling, if you wanted a normal friend, you should have looked elsewhere," I gestured to my outfit. I looked like a goth boy's wet dream: chunky platformed boots, fishnets, heavy eyeliner. Of course, all in black.

"You know what I mean," she whined, waving off my pointing hand and fixing me with a hard stare. "The least my dad needs is someone that is terrified of him just because sometimes he turns into a big green monkey. It's not as exciting as internet thinks, anyway," the last part of the sentence was mumbled but I heard it nonetheless as Lyra stared out into the traffic, clever eyes looking for a particular car model.

What Lyra didn't know was that I was not at all considering to be terrified by the man who dosed himself with radiation and developed an advanced version of split personality disorder. I could be intimidated by him, sure, because he was incredibly intelligent, a world class scientist with more PhDs than I had zeroes in my bank account, but even despite his green problem, Dr. Bruce Banner was about as far away from 'scary' as a man could be.

The few scarce pictures of him on the internet showed a short, stocky man with kind eyes and salt-and-pepper curls, always dressed in un-ironed, crumpled button-ups with dorky patterns. Looking at him, I mused that there was a high chance he spoke with a stutter and that fact amused me to no end. Jekyll and Hyde, alright.

Lyra was much the same way. Shy and reclusive, with curly brown hair and doe eyes, she spent a good chunk of her first semester in college being avoided by everybody because of her last name; I, on the other hand, avoided everyone out of habit, I'd never been a social butterfly, but the way people subtly made sure to exclude Lyra from all the activities filled me with quiet, seething rage, and I stepped over my general distaste of people and removed my bag from the seat next to me so Lyra could at least study in relative peace.

Yeah, yeah, you've heard it all, I'm sure. Weird goth chick adopts a socially awkward, shunned nerd and they become best friends forever. I had to admit that under the shy exterior, Lyra was smart, witty and even funny sometimes. She was willing to entertain my crude jokes without moaning, at least, and I was perfectly okay with listening to her rant about science every now and then.

Rain banged on the slanted roof of the café we were hiding in, the autumn wind howled, making both of us shiver at the prospect of having to go outside, even if it was for a short moment to run to Lyra's dad's car. The day had started out warm and sunny, but much like a badly calculated chemical formula, it all went downhill a split second after we had set out to leave campus.

"There he is," the grouch in Lyra's expression had me once again unsuccessfully attempting to conceal my snorting.

Nonetheless, I followed her out into the rain, struggling to keep up with the brisk running in my platformed shoes, unceremoniously crawling into the car behind her without sparing a glance at the driver in my eagerness to get out of the freezing downpour.

"Hi, dad," Lyra's tired voice spoke up at the same time as I angrily shook out my hair.

"I've just about McFuckin' had it with New York," I was afraid the dye in my hair would bleed out into my clothes, or even worse, the nice, cream-colored car seats.

"Hello, ladies," the voice that greeted us was low, gravelly and apologetic to boot.

My eyes shot up, meeting an expression full of surprise and amusement. I stared at the shockingly handsome face of Dr. Bruce Banner like a deer in the headlights.

The fine mimic wrinkles had stretched into a resemblance of a smile, soft, plush lips revealing a set of straight, white teeth. The five o'clock shadow framed his jaw, giving it a sharp, defined edge, his clever brown eyes slid down my form, faltering on the pentagram on my belt and my fishnet-covered legs, settling on my chunky boots before hastily snapping back up to my face.

"Dad, this is..." Lyra's voice was full of suspicious bewilderment as she attempted to dissipate the sudden awkwardness.

"Oh, yeah, I'm Dr. Bruce Banner, but you can call me Doc or Bruce," he cleared his throat, turning himself towards the windshield and starting up the car.

"Nice to meet you," I busied myself with putting away any stray hair just to occupy myself with something during the time I needed to recuperate from being just... Looked at by Lyra's dad.

It sounds ridiculous, I know, but I was so taken aback by his handsomeness and his aura of a gentle but powerful man that the ride to Stark tower, however swift, went on in slightly awkward silence. The streets outside were, thankfully, noisy, and the lack of an attempt to have a conversation could easily be attributed to Bruce's need to focus on the road, but Lyra's increasingly concerned looks did very little to settle the sudden racing of my heart.

"C'mon, I'll give you some sweats so you can let your..." Lyra's vague gesture towards my upper body disappeared behind her side of the door. "Hey, Tony," she suddenly interrupted her sentence, very obviously addressing another person who I managed to miss as Bruce parked in the spacious garage.

"I've been told you're finally bringing your friend, Green Pea," a voice I'd heard a thousand times on the TV poked fun at Lyra.

She bent down to retrieve her bag, shooting big eyes at me and mouthing an exaggerated "Sorry!"

Tony Stark looked about a week in debt on sleep, a contrast to the way he usually appeared in public. The exaggerated eyebrow raise made me shuffle awkwardly in my spot; the Led Zep tee caught my eyes as I lingered on it, aware of my own Mötorhead top on display. He noticed it too, causing his face leave the snide territory.

"Wow, I didn't expect kids these days to have any resemblance of taste in music but you've surprised me, Corpse Bride," he gave me a quiet wolf-whistle, watching me through lidded eyes.

I felt my eyebrow crawl upwards at his attitude but Bruce spoke up before I could say anything: "Tony, no," so firmly, I had to raise both of my eyebrows. I felt a smile tug at my lips, the situation strikingly familiar in it's essence. Like father, like daughter...

"No," Lyra's identical expression, fond and annoyed, topped up with an accusing finger pointed in my direction had everyone snorting a giggle at the situation.

"Lyra," I whined, just so I could coax her grin that she was very obviously trying to conceal. "See, I told you, every crazy genius needs their emotional support nerd," I fixed her with a pointed look.

She promptly grabbed me by the arm, leading all of us to the elevator as the two men behind us shared a hearty laugh at my well-timed joke. It was either that or I would have completely embarrassed myself by gaping and drooling over both THE Tony Stark and Lyra's father.

The rush didn't stop there. I was promptly and generously offered not only a spare pair of pants but also a whole room to stay in after an invitation to dinner I simply could not refuse. Dr. Banner firmly coaxed me into staying overnight with his pleading eyes and a hearty seasoning of guilt tripping, softly crooning how he simply could not let a young woman to wander the cold, rainy night in NYC alone.

Tony added something too, in a tone way too surefire and patronising. I guessed he noticed my eyes lingering on Dr. Banner, being a genius and all.

In a short amount of time, I found myself seated at a dinner table next to a happy, giggling Lyra who'd downed a glass of wine and was well into her second. I found it adorable how much of a lightweight she was; not hesitating in the slightest to point out that fact when she made hands for a pitcher of water.

Tony was the first one to snark back something vague about his college days and all the wild parties he used to throw, booing Bruce upon discovery that he, in fact, actually studied in college in favour of partaking in various illicit activities. That had both me and Tony giggling with Lyra promptly joining in, both of us losing it over the running joke or her being either a test tube baby or the result of immaculate conception.

Bruce's face blushed scarlet. He sputtered, a few stray drops of his lemonade landing on the (ironed!) collar of his purple shirt, cough disappearing in the wake of Tony's truly amused cackling. Dr. Banner was well on his way to either choke on his Lo Mein or turn green; thinking quickly, I decided to defuse a situation by sharing a harmless, funny story that happened to me as a freshman.

"I went on a date with this guy who said that music was the most important thing in his life, and I thought, wow, that's so beautiful!" I began my story over Lyra's incessant snickering. "So we had dinner and went back to his place because I'm a whore," the whole table erupted in laughter at my deadpan remark, Tony reaching over to give me a high five.

"And as we got there, he put on one of his demos which was just a bunch of sampled and remixed Guns'n'Roses songs, and I thought wow, that's gotta be one of the worst things I've ever heard," I pointedly looked away as Lyra's cackling grew in volume, having heard the same story several times by now and the outrage I expressed at the situation first hand.

"But instead of that I said, wow, that's so cool! Then we did the thing and his whole bedroom was covered in Axl Rose posters and I'm sure at some point Mr. Rose stared right up my asshole," there were tears streaming down Lyra's face as Tony flopped his upper body onto the table and Bruce convulsed helplessly in a silent fit of giggles. "And then I thought to myself: wow, I would have to pretend to like his music if I dated this guy and I just couldn't do that..." I breathed out, succumbing to the mirth at the dinner table. "It was good but not November Rain good, y'kno?"

Bruce snorted loudly, sliding down his chair with a hand over his face. The table shook with the force of Tony's cackling; I didn't see his expression but the howling, rasping noises sent me into another fit of laughter, right on par with Lyra.

"Is this..." Tony rapidly inhaled the much-needed oxygen. "Is this why you keep wincing whenever I play the 'Roses in the lab?" Tony wheezed and Lyra nodded.

"I just... I can picture it, and I-" she made a vague, encompassing gesture and a face.

"Please, don't," I urged with a snort. "There are better ways to get disappointed."

Dinner went on by smoothly after that, everybody happily making remarks on my dating fail, the topic of Lyra's birth and Tony's college shenanigans dismissed.

I caught Dr. Banner's pointed look as we finished our dessert - he was studying me, eyes searching for something that he very obviously wished was there. From the damp roots of my hair to the soft, cotton top clinging to my chest, I wasn't left unscrutinzed and unexamined. Like one of the many specimens he studied on a daily basis, Bruce lingered on the many characteristics that made me stand out in the grey crowd.

"Would you like to see the labs?" He asked, appearing behind me without a single sound.

The freshly cleaned dishes clattered in my arms. I'd almost dropped them, startled, but Bruce's hand landed on the top of the stack right before the top plate would have slipped off and shattered into pieces on the cold tile of his kitchen.

Blood rushed to my ears. "I'd love to," my brain had briefly returned to reality, the rush of meeting both Stark and Banner succumbing to logic and reason. My and his fields of study briefly overlapped, the question he posed was more than reasonable. In fact, many people would cheat, lie and steal to be in my position.

Bruce smiled, opening a cabinet and taking half of the dishes I was holding to stack them up in their proper place. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing wide, muscular forearms littered with dark, coarse hair.

I was sure my face was flaming. After waving off Lyra's attempts to put shoes on me and leaving her to watch her TV show, a wide, warm palm rested on the back of my waist, gently steering me towards the elevator.

I tried to keep my eyes off Bruce in the large mirror on the walls of the car as it swiftly moved down, scrutinizing my appearance instead. My throat bobbed, the elevator car suddenly too small and too hot.

His eyes left marks on me - invisible ones, the kind that I knew were there just from the scorching heat sizzling on my skin.

There was a certain je ne sais quoi about him. Perhaps, it was in the way he was acting - a polar opposite of what I'd had expected, Dr. Bruce Banner possessed a quiet confidence and his patience appeared to be endless, heartily doused with an appreciation for his closest ones. The way his eyes lit up in response to people smiling around the dinner table was hard to miss.

When Bruce spoke about his research - whatever wasn't classified, anyway - the spark expanded into a mischievous fire. I could hardly understand the nuances in his work, scratch that- I could not understand a single word he was saying, at all. The individual syllables registered as they should, but my traitorous brain could only focus on the way he licked his lips in between quickly inhaled breaths.

"You're not... Following, are you?" The corner of his mouth lifted upwards, clever brown eyes fixed on my face.

God, I hoped I wasn't drooling. But to deny the obvious would have been a stretch. "No, not really," I swallowed, willing my eyes to lift from the large veins on the hand that was pointing at a set of equations. Reasonably good at math any day, they looked like the scribbles of a madman to me at the time.

Dr. Banner sighed, letting silence creep among the whirring machinery in the lab for a brief moment. "I don't scare you?" He removed his glasses, cleaning them with the corner of his shirt.

The question reeked of self-doubt and, perhaps, insecurity. "No," I answered simply, not giving him the slightest chance to find doubt in my words. I was barely holding my voice from shaking, afraid he'd misunderstand my reaction to the sudden change in atmosphere.

He was closer to me than I recalled. My hip was almost brushing his, the bulk of his shoulder millimeters from touching against my bare skin, the smell of something herbal, like tea, and sharp chemicals clouding my senses. It was such a contrasting experience.

Bruce turned to me, an expression between hunger and regret forcing me to shiver and look him straight in the eye. A hand landed on my waist, holding me in place with gentle firmness. "I'm a monster, I could hurt you," he whispered, leaning into me like a touch starved kitten. The man screamed contradiction. "We shouldn't."

Vivid images of the Hulk and the rampages years prior flashed through my mind; the rubble, the collateral damage in the form of many lives. I barely remembered it, having been too little to really understand what was going on. One thing, though, I knew for sure: ever since the world became aware of Lyra's existence, there had been no incidents. Sure, the Hulk still appeared when there was a threat, but there were no documented incidents of the green creature running amok, accidentally.

"You won't hurt me," I spoke with conviction. Perhaps, I was bluffing just slightly but I wouldn't lie like that to myself. The variable, the... Twelve or so percent chance of things going... Awry, it made a small, malicious worm inside of me rejoice and fill my limbs with familiar adrenalised yearning. "You're not a monster. Far from it, actually," I used the hand that was not supporting me against the desk to gently cradle the side of his face, letting my fingertips brush over the rough five o'clock shadow on his cheek.

Bruce emitted a sound somewhere between an agitated grown and a pleading whine, sagging with the sound exhale, pressing himself flush with my chest. His face slipped from my palm, the warm tip of his nose running a steady line up my neck, sending goosebumps running wildly down my back as his hot breath tickled the arch of my throat.

"Baby," the nickname punched a stuttered gasp out of me with the intensity contained in just that one word. "I've been hearing all these amazing things about you," his voice dropped, low baritone rumbling straight into my ear. "I won't be able to hold back. I'll want you all to myself," his bicep flexed under my hand.

My knees would have bucked if I wasn't grasping onto Bruce for dear life after those words. I had some sense of personal pride in me, so while my body was an easy, traitorous thing, my mind was more than eager to participate in this game, to ping pong a little bit before... "Yeah? What things?" I breathed.

Teeth briefly closed around my tender skin, nipping for just a second. "You're kind, beautiful," his hand took a steadfast hold on the back of my neck, exposing my throat to his mouth. More skin to mark, more time to whisper. "Intelligent, bright and clever," the more he spoke, the fiercer he became. Bruce's grasp tightened until I was pliant in it, willingly following his silent commands. "A bit of a pain in the ass," a healthy dose of humour was added into the mix as my ass was roughly grabbed, our fronts pressed together at his insistence.

"That sounds about right," I didn't resist the sudden urge to snark, thoughts lazily floating in my head, like clouds on a bright sunny day, fleeting and sparse. None of them caught on. I was focused on feeling the need, on my need to feel.

A sharp smack landed on the plump of my ass, the sound resonating in the eerily quiet lab. The sounds of machinery had dulled at some point, leaving just the two of us panting our lust into each other's space. "I know you can be a good girl. Will you, princess?" His fingertips dug into my flesh, surpassing the soft sweatpants as if they weren't even there.

I could only nod, dumbly, overcome by the sudden rush of blood to my body. The life coarsing through me sang, demanding a release of the pent-up tension.

"What's that?" Bruce removed himself from my neck, catching my unfocused eyes with a crooked smirk on his lips.

"Yes," I swallowed, breathing through my mouth.

"Mmm," he hummed, running both hands over my sides, over the frayed edges of my Mötorhead top. He admired it, briefly, setting his eyes on the band logo that was right over my breasts. Having decided something to himself, Bruce promptly removed it, lifting it over my head with ease and leaving it right on the science lab table.

Taking hold of my hand, he walked over to a hidden set of sliding doors that revealed a rather large, frequently used bed, shutting them just as I walked in, wearing only my bra and borrowed sweats. My back was pressed to the door in mere seconds, hot palms chasing away the chill of the lab as Bruce slotted his lips over mine.

He tasted like something I've never had before. His lips - so plush and supple, took hold of the kiss with practiced gusto, sucking me in without a chance or the desire to escape. I drank from him, sucked on the bottom lip as his tongue explored my mouth, danced with mine.

The room was spinning, the ringing in my ears growing in volume. I was only partly aware of the sensation of sliding down the wall; our knees thudded on the carpeted floor simultaneously, heavy breathing the only noise I could distinguish.

"Breathe, baby, that's it," Bruce coaxed, gently stroking my nape. The soft cotton of his shirt crumpled under my fingers where I held onto him, desperately searching something to ground myself with.

The buckle of his belt clattered and then clinked again as he wrapped the worn leather around my wrists, bringing them together in front of my chest. I exhaled sharply at the intimate gesture, a whine bubbling up from my chest when Bruce used a single fingertip to raise my chin.

My eyes met his; a brown iris tinged with the faintest of green around the outer edge. "This okay, princess?" He sought my face for confirmation, for agreement, for anything.

I nodded, stuttering mid-gesture, remembering our previous interaction. My mouth did not want to cooperate but I forced it to, even if it came out as little more than a pitiful mewl. "Yes, daddy," the word, sweet and sticky like fruit syrup, poured from my lips.

My eyes slid shut as my conscience - or was it common sense? - took hold of the situation. I was on my knees in front of my best friends dad, a virtual stranger, and I'd just-

Bruce's soft chuckle stopped the negative spiral of my thoughts. "That's my girl," he sounded a tad more breathless now, a hairliner in his perfect façade of self-control. As if he'd sensed my indecisiveness, he tugged on the makeshift restraints, pulling me closer, closer and into his lap.

A warm, solid chest with a healthy amount of fluff greeted me. Bruce let my lax, pliant body fall into his arms, catching me effortlessly and bringing my face to his lips. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, you're my good girl," he peppered soft kisses all over my flaming cheeks, my twitching nose, my fluttering lashes.

"Please," I begged, shame giving way to the flood of arousal that seemingly hit me all at once. I was aware of the dampness collecting in my panties, the stiffness of my limbs from holding back the ravenous desire to paw at Bruce like a wild animal. "Please, daddy..."

"I know, I know, baby girl," he soothed, not stopping his tender assault on my face. "Daddy will make it all better. I know just what you need," Bruce finally pulled away. I heard the sound of him undoing his zipper and then the awkward shuffle of him shucking off his pants.

Somewhere in between of all that, he'd ended up sitting down on the bed, wearing only his boxers, his shirt hanging open. The red crawled down his chest, partially masked by the coarse salt and pepper hair; his lips were cherry red and his hair was sticking out in odd directions. Bruce looked sinful.

My eyes inadvertently landed on the impressive bulge in his boxers; in response to my widened eyes, he reached out for it, stroking the outline of his thick cock through his boxers. "Like what you see, baby?"

"Yeah," My mouth watered.

"Baby wants a fat cock?" He teased, sounding like he knew exactly what he was doing, testing my self-control like that. With a flick of his wrist, it sprang free, slapping against his tummy, coating the fine hairs with drops of clear, musky fluid.

I swallowed, feeling the taste of him from afar and yearning for more where I was parked between his spread legs.

In a gesture almost loving, he tugged on the belt still wrapped around my wrists, bringing my face to his leaking shaft and my hands to the base of it, letting me feel the weight of his balls in them. The cock throbbed, neglected, weighed down by the heaviness of his full balls.

"Go ahead, baby, suck my cock," the encouragement came with a gentle push to my head.

I obediently followed, wrapping my lips around the pink, moist crown of it, a hum beginning in the back of my throat. My God, Bruce tasted heavenly... I whirled and slipped my tongue a around his head, I dipped into the slit to drink the nectar right from the tap, idly coming to awareness of the broken, choked moans coming from the man above me.

Raising my head got me a view of his chin; head thrown back, the lax O of his mouth glistened in the meager light. My eyes slid lower, to the flex of his abs. Bruce fought hard to stay still. The desire consumed me, a sudden rush of power at having Dr. Bruce Banner's cock in my mouth and the man at my mercy; I inhaled, sliding my mouth further and further down his throbbing length.

"Fuck," I heard him mutter before his hands gripped the sides of my face. "Hungry, baby, are you?" His eyes glowed a faint green; I shuddered at the power he held within himself. Held back for me. "Tap my thigh twice," he spoke and I had no choice but to obey. "Okay. Do that if it gets too much, alright?" I nodded. He gave me a wide, beaming smile. "Good girl," he praised, experimentally bucking his hips into my mouth a few times.

In and out. I focused on my breathing, sharp, little inhales: his girth took up all the free space in my mouth, the tip of it barely fit into my throat. The burn, the stretch; I felt every tenth of an inch, every bulging attempt of my body to accommodate Bruce's huge cock. It was delicious, I couldn't help but crave the same stretch in my neglected, sopping wet pussy.

"Fuck, you're taking it so well," Bruce moaned wetly. "Your mouth... S'like heaven... Could fuck it all day, that's my good girl," the rambling increased in it's intensity as the pace of his hips hastened. Drool and tears flowed like a river; my chin was dropping with it, spit connected my face to his pelvis. "Oh," there was a brief pause to his movements; suddenly, he pulled out, fisting the base of his cock, staring me down with a ferocious gleem in his eye.

I must've looked a straight mess; my face like a crime scene, my clothes disheveled, covered in fluids and most of all - I was desperately grinding against my own feet, too focused on the glorious cock in front of me to notice the weakness of my own flesh. "Daddy?" I questioned, wincing at the grating of my own voice.

Without a word, the belt was tugged once more; in a set of movements just slightly north of acrobatic, I found myself laying on my back in the middle of the bed, my sweatpants suffering a haste demise in the corner of the room.

Bruce crawled atop me, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses on every inch of my skin he could reach, mouthing something inaudible into every pore of my body. As he drew closer, I discerned bitten-off phrases, stringing my desire into sticky, tangy mess at the apex of my thighs.

"My perfect baby girl," the words reached me; all tongue, he kissed me once more, arching into me as much as I arched into his hot grasp. A brief inspection of my face - he was satisfied with what he saw - and Bruce crawled back, settling in between my spread legs, breathing hot air on the lips of my sex still covered by a sopping wet piece of fabric.

"Oh fuck," I yelped, feeling him smooch it soundly, the hot wetness of his tongue penetrating the meagre lace barrier with ease.

He moved it aside anyway, with a single finger, giving my pussy a broad lick, moaning into my cunt like a man gone mad. It took a few more licks for him to feel sated enough to surface, all the while holding my hips down. I was so sensitive, I felt even the tiniest flicks to my clit, I was sure if I didn't cum then and there, I would explode.

"Such a pretty pussy, princess," his heavy breathing paused briefly. He nipped my thigh. "So wet, is that all for me?"

"Yes, yes, daddy," I rasped, pushing my cunt into his face, losing all shame and trepidation.

"So tasty," he continued the torture, outlining my lower lips before taking another nosedive right into it, swirling his tongue around every fold, sucking onto my clit.

Bruce ate my pussy until my thighs shook, until my core quivered and I could no longer hold back the choked, ragged screams starting somewhere in the low of my belly and coming out as unholy, all-consuming yowls filled with unadulterated lust.

"Louder for me, baby," he inhaled rapidly, and then, he sucked on my clit.

The world stopped, halted on it's axis, every muscle going rigid in my body and every nerve ending simultaneously coming alive. Faintly, I heard a chant, repeating two syllables over and over, it sounded like my voice - but I had no control over myself. All I could do was weakly grind my hips against Bruce's mouth, faltering when the crashing waves of my orgasm began to recede.

The infuriating overstimulation stopped; blinking hazily, I saw Bruce's eyes glimmer brown and green in front of my face. His nose and his chin was glistening with a thin coat of sticky fluid; disheveled and red, he looked a man on the verge of a revelation.

Something hot and blunt nosed at my cunt, bringing back the moment to me - I realized, with a great deal of impatience - how empty I felt. The decision was minute. "Daddy, fuck me, please, I want your cock," the words came easily.

"That's my girl," his eyes fluttered shut as the first inches squeezed through the snug of my cunt. I was sopping wet and as relaxed as I'd be, but even then, it was a stretch. "Good girl, good baby," the mumbled praise made me whine and my pussy clamp on his cock. "Relax, let daddy fill you up." Breathing through it, I consciously unwound myself around him, letting my palms rest freely on his shoulders. "Let daddy take care of you."

Like melted sugar, his husked words stuck to me inside and out. Short, sharp thrusts; Bruce was patiently burrowing himself inside of me, making his way to reach the deepest parts of me I didn't even know existed. His cock head pressed against something hard and spongy inside of me; stars burst behind my eyes I'd clamped shut on reflex.

I moaned weakly, tugging on his arm, pressing myself closer. It felt so, so good. Like a raw nerve had been exposed and he was stroking it, pushing that little switch with every stroke of his hips.

"I'm not gonna last," he muttered as once again, my cunt squeezed him snugly in place, just as greedy as I was to feel that tiny explosion spark up within me again.

"I want..." I panted. Bruce set in a punishing pace after that, a palm under my ass, squeezing it so hard there would definitely be bruising. I craved it, I needed to see the evidence this was not some elaborate fever dream. "I want... Daddy to fill me up," words came out garbled; it sounded like gibberish to my ears but Bruce - they spurred him on.

"Oh yeah?" That breathless, boyish cockiness was back in his voice again; despite how fucked out he sounded, I prepared myself for something truly out of this world. I just knew.

He sat back on his shins, dragging me by the hips with him, making me shiver and moan and twitch and clamp onto him again as his throbbing cock hit that special spot again. And again. And again.

"Look at me, baby," a hand on my belly and his eyes burning right through me. As they slid down, towards the apex of my thighs where he was still moving within me almost lazily, I saw it.

"Oh fuck," I couldn't utter much more than a two-syllabled profanity. There was a bulge in my belly, just above my pelvis, moving in rhythm with Bruce's hips. And then he pressed on it and I-

Something, someone, somewhere was screaming. The noise was loud and pitched, but even then, I could barely hear it though the neverending waves of bliss that enveloped my whole being. Gold and silver at the edges of my rapidly darkening vision; I was drowning in something that smelled and felt like Bruce. The safety of his arms, the warmth of his heated body, the rapid snapping of his hips-

Oh.

"I'm gonna, fuck," the last word was but a ghost of a human speech. Growling low and filthy, Bruce leaned into my ear, his breath hot and moist. "Mine," his hips stuttered, his cock nestled deep, the sensation bordering on painful, forcefully extracted pleasure. It throbbed with every spurt of his seed; each one felt like a solid punch in the gut to my abused pussy.

"Daddy," I mewled, my body jerking away from him but my mind and my soul yearning for more. His rapidly softening flesh made the idea of being separated unbearable.

"S'good, s'my good girl, m'so proud," he mumbled, looking slightly disoriented as he removed himself from me, immediately pressing me to his side and interwining any free, flailing limbs.

We laid in silence, each of us slowly coming back to Earth after the completely unreal experience we just had. I didn't know what to think, didn't know what to do as the realization set in, the post-orgasmic haze giving way to a sudden rush of clarity.

"I can hear you overthinking," Bruce's voice was fond.

Before I could muster up the courage to snark back, the divided doors opened, one very concerned Tony Stark standing there, armed with a tranquilizer gun in one hand and a pack of cookies in the other. His mouth, previously open to (probably) yell at us, remained as open when his eyes had registered the scene in front of him.

I stared at Bruce. Bruce stared at Tony.

"The noise," he offered in the way of explanation, dangling the pack of cookies, looking, for once - speechless. He recovered quickly, however, even if the remark was a thin ghost of his usual sass: "You pick the nerd over me? I'm hurt," he scoffed in mock irritation, although I was pretty sure I saw some satisfaction in there, too.

Bruce looked at me. I looked at Bruce.

A mischievous grin slowly crept up his face, an identical one beginning to appear on my own face seconds after.

"Hey, two nerds is better than one, right?" My response is what did it; or, rather, it was the evidence of my previous throat-fucking clearly audible in my voice... Tony dropped the cookies and then, the tranq gun.

Bruce Banner taglist: @pilloclock @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @persephonehemingway @mostly-marvel-musings @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @sapphicnoodle69 @couldntbedamned @xoxabs88xox @marvelsbanner @tripleyeeet @tatestripedsweater @stuckybarton

#bruce banner x reader #bruce banner smut #bruce banner x you #bruce banner x y/n #Bruce Banner #bun writes #I haven't written shit in a month and boom #6k words in three hours #i don't like the ending #I'm bad at them #okay #okay .

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daaziscoolbesties · 3 years ago

Text

minecraft endermen are really weird. theyre unnatural and make me feel off.

when i was a small child like seven years ago i would always play minecraft on creative mode and i made an ugly ass enderman "farm" made out of bricks. i had an enderman spawn egg and id just spam it and the enderman couldnt get out (so i thought). anyways having them in this enclosure was probably so i could feel "powerful" over them because to date theyre still the only mob in minecraft that makes me anxious. even above skeletons(which i used to have a horrible fear of (the real life ones not mc ones)) and spiders (which i still have a horrible fear of (again the real life ones not mc)). anyways the endermen just ended up completely teleporting out of the farm and i checked on my world the next day and they were all gone and i didnt appreciate it (this was the same world where my brother blew up my pets but thats a different story).

anyways back to endermen. besides the fact that i just didnt like dying and i did like building ugly structures, one of the main reasons i didnt play survival much for a while, or if i did id put it on peaceful, was because of the enderman. every time i passed one my heart would drop and if i happened to look it in the eye on accident my throat would feel like its closing up and idk why. if it sounds like im bullshitting you or not remembering correctly i swear im not because it still happens actually.

i play survival a ton more now simply because i enjoy it more, it feels like theres actually a goal to achieve, but i never really make efforts toward said goal(ya know, beating the dragon). none of my worlds are really created with the intention of beating the dragon, and therefore i dont have to worry about endermen. if i happen to be outside my house and theres one there, no worries i just wait for it to go away. it may spook me for a sec but im fine.

but recently me and my sister started a world with the sole purpose of beating the dragon. we may have cheated a little (like putting on keep inventory cause honestly we both suck at pvp and have died so many times) but its okay cause thats it. we still have to fight endermen to get pearls for the end portal. and so we were hanging out in the nether and made a little two block tall hidey hole and id stand by the front and taunt endermen to get them to come close so i could kill them without them being able to get to me and it worked really well actually. except for the fact that to get them to come near i had to get them to aggro onto me and to do that i have to look them in the eye and you know where this is going. and so i was like "it has been so long since i looked an enderman in the eye surely i cant still be scared of them" and i turn to my sister like "<sister> you stay in the hole ill get us some pearls"

so i go out and taunt the dudes and guess what bitch got the pit in their stomach from these fuckers!! thats right bestie and my throat started to close up and i started talking to my sister again but i could tell me voice was off from it and i dont know why it happens but it pisses me off. like theyre not even scary looking theyre just a bit odd. and i continue to do this and kill the endermen and it just. doesnt. stop. my throat keeps closing up and im not "in pain" or anything just inconvenienced like what the fuck dude its a bunch of fucking pixels. i dont know its weird.

and now this part is gonna sound super fuckin stupid but ever since i started watching dsmp i immediately got attached to ranboo (cc! and c!) and knowing that c!ranboo was half enderman made me really think "hm endermen arent that bad. granted i havent interacted with one in a while but still not that bad. perhaps my favorite hostile mob" because you know people get attached to characters and think dumb things. and then again ranboo's character straight up existing and also this one specific headcanon i saw that was like "endermen use telepathy to talk so when a player looks at them all their thoughts get projected into them and it hurts their brain :((" makes me feel kinda bad for aggro-ing them and killing them again even though its literally just some pixels dude. my brain is not kind to me about this stuff and its really dumb.

i dont know what about the endermen staring back at me sets off the sort of fight-or-flight that makes me unable to breathe for a second but its something. its not the fact that their jaws basically unhinge when theyre mad because the throat closing up sensation happens before that. it happens when i look at an enderman and it looks back up at me and holds my gaze. i dont know. i dont know why im worked up(even slightly) over a video game. theyre still my favorite hostile mob i think (not just because of ranboo honestly the other hostile mobs just kinda suck).

and also i like the idea of how humanoid they are. not human. humanoid. they have the basic aspects of a minecraft human- square, head, torso, legs, arms, eyes. most mc skins dont even have mouths anyways just eyes. but the endermen have these features differently than us. their eyes are unnatural, legs and arms too long, body all one color, one that can blend in, and you can only see its purple eyes staring you down from a distance. theyre basically just cryptids.

despite skeletons and even zombies looking closer to the player than the endermen, they still seem the most human-like of all of the mobs. they arent aggressive unless provoked. they dont like eye contact(socially awkward). they like picking up stuff and moving it around. theyre curious (i cant explain this one they just are, okay?). even the sounds they make are just phrases like "hey" "hello" "whats up" distorted and in reverse.

i want to know more about them.

i want to know where they came from.

why theyre found in every dimension.

why they sound like us.

i want explanations, i want to know why they scare us.

i want to know if they know.

if they know that we're like them in some way.

that some of us dont mean harm, but for others thats all they want to do to the endermen.

i saw a post once that said "what taught humans to be wary of things that look human, but arent?" i believe the phenomenon is called uncanny valley. what if in the minecraft universe, the thing that taught us that was endermen. or rather, the thing that taught the endermen that was us? because again, the endermen pose no threat to us unless theyre provoked. by one of us. the endermen try to communicate with us- "⊑⟒⊬" "⍙⊑⏃⏁⌇ ⎍⌿?"- but we kill them without reason. thats why they dont like eye contact, its been ingrained in them through evolution that eye contact with a human/player will end in death, and they dont want it to be theirs, so they attack first.

we- or rather, the first minecrafters, maybe (in the lore(?)) people before the game, taught the endermen to fear us. i mean we literally kill them, use their remains to enter their home dimension, and then kill their leader/mother. they do their best to stop us, but we can respawn and they cant. and then, some people even go as far as to make farms, having them all spawn in one place, crowded, cant teleport out- their only defense mechanism gone- and then are slaughtered for their pearls. and due to the mass of these farms there will be chests upon chests full of pearls that no one's using, i saw someone the other day ask what people do with them and someone straight up said they just burn them like god what a waste.

"but izzy, players make mob farms all the time and not just for endermen!!!1!!11! why are the endermen ones so bad why are you only talking about those1!1!1!!!1" 1) because i can, 2) this is an endermen-themed post, and 3) i dont like the other mobs. and of course im not actually mad at the players who like beating the game and making endermen farms and such, i mean thats what it is its all just a game just a bunch of code, 0's and 1's, so why does it matter why bother writing a whole post on it?

because when you look paste the game, when you read in between those ones and zeroes and discover this non-intentional lore, it can make things so much more,, interesting. this is fanfic material. hell, its probably fanart material too. its all for the content to see what the community can create i guess. or maybe i just really like talking about endermen and this has been on my mind for two days now and once i started typing i couldnt stop.

but yeah, thats my final thoughts.

we, humans, experience uncanny valley about the endermen.

but the endermen experience uncanny valley about the players.

#time is empty and thoughts are yes #long post #endermen #minecraft enderman #minecraft #minecraft lore #lore #tw video game death #not really sure if i need to put that since a lot of stuff in minecraft is killing stuff but might as well stay on the safe side with it #god this might be even longer than my other post #at least i formatted it this time #sorta #this post went from endermen make me feel weird to oOoOo psychology at 3 am with no proof real quick #and gonna be honest thats not at all what i had planned but its okay

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arteyhumano299 · 4 years ago

Text

You Keep Me Waitin’

Chapter 1: Feel Better (9k words)

Summary: Kagami and Marinette aren't that close— they’re friendship is relatively new and there's still some unresolved tension. Kagami has just experienced heart break for the first time, and her mother’s expectations are beginning to weigh on her. Marinette’s duties are doing a similar number on her, and painful realizations have also left her heartbroken. They realize they can use each other as an excuse to flee from their troubling lives. In each other they find unexpected comfort, and soon they're closer than either could have expected.

Available on Ao3 , fanfic.net , and Wattpad

Notes:

First fanfic I'm publishing in a while. So I made the creative decisions to make the characters slightly older, around 17,16 ish. It's just cause it makes me uncomfortable to write sexual tension between 14-15 year olds. Also, this fic takes place right after the break ups so like season 4, ep 2. I can't promise consistent updating schedule but I'm committing to this fic. This first chapter is pretty long, I don't have a set words per chapter limit so the chapters might be all over the place. Anyway. Enjoy :)

Kagami feels hollow. She felt hollow as she closed the door of the locker room. She felt hollow as she walked out of Françoise Dupont. She felt hollow as she made her way down the stone steps at the entrance of the collège. The sound of her shoes making contact with the ground made Kagami feel especially hollow —the only sound that rang in her ears. Said shoes carried her to Tatsu's red door. Eyes found the car’s window, Kagami grimaced at her own reflection.

She clutched Tatsu’s handle and swung the backseat door open, hoping to flee from her own eyes. Her head hung low, eyes on her lap, as she closed the door. Slowly, she lifted her head to face the window and the collège’s front gates. She took a deep breath before turning her eyes forward. “Take me home, Tatsu.”

The collège disappeared as Tatsu moved forward. Kagami exhaled. Her hands found their way into her fencing bag and she slowly retrieved her phone from the bundle of clothes and protein bars. She steeled herself as her phone lit up. The screen read 6:09 against a familiar picture Kagami had taken that day at the San Martin Canal. They were seated at the canal’s edge, Adrien’s chin smudged with ice cream and Kagami smiling giddily at having caught this momentary clumsiness. Adrien, oblivious to the desert decorating his face, grinning at the camera and leaning close to her. She pursed her lips as she felt a pang to her chest, and opened settings with a decisive press of the home button. Their twin smiles disappeared from her lock screen, replaced with an old picture of the Eiffel Tower— one she had taken when she’d first arrived in Paris. She’d grown accustomed to it by now, but the large monument had seemed so mystical when she first saw it.

A sense of exhaustion came over her and she let her neck fall backwards. Head falling on the seat’s headrest, the car’s ceiling filled her vision.

Had this been a mistake?

Kagami had always been rational. Her mother valued logic above all, putting her stakes only in what she could hope to benefit from. Mother had taught this principle to Kagami at an early age, and Kagami had taken it to heart. She put a lot of effort into her passions, assured that her work would pay off. She took her future seriously, recognizing that it would reflect all of her present decisions. She didn’t goof off or blow off responsibilities. She did her best to control her sometimes reckless personality. She wasn’t disobedient. And she certainly didn’t waste her time in mindless relationship games. But here she was now. Kagami had gone about dating Adrien the way she did most things: straight to the point, and with a set goal in mind. She had been decisive, and she wasted no time dancing around her feelings, thinking that it would pay off, like all other things had in her life. Sitting alone in a car, heartbroken, had not been the outcome she predicted. Could she have miscalculated?

Somewhere inside herself, she understood that she had been very clear about her feelings, and had worked hard to maintain their relationship– at times, even foolishly bended some of her values just to get closer to him. Adrien had been the one to lie, and had always been more apprehensive with his affection, like he was holding back and holding on at the same time. Right now though, Kagami doubted herself. She’d never been the type to, but maybe while she was blinded by her affections for Adrien, she’d lost herself.

Her mother would be disappointed. Kagami hadn’t exactly told her of their relationship, and thinking of the times she did stuff she would disapprove of just to spend time with Adrien, Kagami wasn’t sure if she wanted to. God.

Kagami had been so eager to get closer to Adrien, and latched on as soon as Adrien began to reciprocate her stares, she had acted foolishly hadn’t she?

Her eyes eventually found the window again, but she regretted it as soon as her eyes laid on the glossy dark waters of the San Martin Canal. She saw the green leaves of trees painted on the water’s surface.

Something coiled in her chest.

“Tatsu, stop.”

Suddenly overcome with emotion, Kagami pushed the car door open and exited onto the aligned stone slabs of the sidewalk. The door closed behind her, body facing the canal. A breeze swept Kagami’s bangs out of her face, drying the prickle of tears at the edge of her eyes. She walked closer to the canal and peered at her figure reflected on the water, her hands bunched in her skirt. The water was too far away for any of her features to be distinguishable but she stared at her reflection– her head of dark hair a blob dancing on the canal’s ripples. Her fists slowly unclenched and she lowered herself to the canal’s edge.

As her eyes followed the ripple of the water, Kagami wondered if getting overly self conscious about this break up was what was irrational. Obviously most relationships ended, and she couldn't expect her first lover to be her last. A memory of telling ladybug her and Adrien were meant to be crossed Kagami’s mind. She grimaced, cringing at the memory. Kagami had said it with bold certainty, confident that there was something special between them–an understanding she’d never experienced with anyone else. She hoped that maybe… that would be the case, once Adrien was ready he would apologize and realize what she had long ago. He didn’t trust her now though, so what assured her he ever would. Maybe the wound was too fresh to wonder about the future.

Kagami closed her eyes and felt another gust of wind flutter against her eyelids. She stood back up and began to walk along the canal.

As she walked further and further from Tatsu, she began to realize another issue. Was she going to ignore Adrien? She had told him she didn’t want to stay friends. Adrien’s distrust had stung her deeply– she had, after all, put a lot of energy and time into their relationship, and just returning to their old dynamic felt wrong. Were they just supposed to not acknowledge any of the remaining tension?

Adrien hiding stuff from her would sting regardless of their relationship, she cared very deeply for him– friend or lover. Kagami had to remind herself: don’t waste time and energy on fruitless efforts. If Adrien wasn’t gonna let up, Kagami would stop giving him the time of day. The opportunity to hurt her. She felt justified in her harshness, though Adrien was one of the only friends she’d ever had. Kagami began to wonder if any of this would seem ridiculous to someone more understanding and emotionally intelligent– Kagami admitted she felt short in that regard.

She admittedly was too caught up thinking of ways to figure this out to pay much attention to her surroundings. Mid thought, something slammed into her, or rather she slammed into someone. Kagami stumbled backwards, almost losing her footing but catching herself at the last minute. As soon as she regained her balance she looked up at the offended party to apologize. She was met with a familiar pair of blue bell eyes. Before she could muster up a ‘sorry’, Marinette beat her to it.

“Kagami! I’m so sorry! I was distracted and wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Her face was somewhat obstructed by boxes stacked on her arms- which she noticed were now off center.

“I’m sorry too, Marinette; I was also distracted.”

Marinette readjusted the boxes. “No, it was probably more on me. My limbs seem to have a mind of their own, a lot of people have fallen victim to my clumsiness.” Marinette’s face scrunched embarrassment.

“Well you are the one carrying boxes, I just bypassed pedestrian etiquette in my mindless daydreaming.”

Kagami could make out Marinette’s smile even with the obstruction to her face.

“That’s just like you to think getting distracted is a lapse of ‘pedestrian etiquette’.” She chuckled at Marinette’s phrasing of ‘pedestrian etiquette’. Marinette’s eyes peered at her quizzically.

“Are you alone, Kagami?”

“I am.”

That seemed to confuse Marinette as she looked around Kagami.

“I don’t mean to pry, but why are you walking down the San Martin Canal?”

Kagami looked back to the canal’s waters.

“I suppose...”, She tried to find an excuse as she faced Marinette again, " I thought the walk would be some nice, light exercise.” Marinette raised an eyebrow at her.

“Right after fencing? Shouldn’t you be having a meal?”

She was surprised that Marinette had any knowledge in the dietary guidelines of athletes. She’d never mentioned partaking in any active hobby to Kagami.

“I was just trying it out. ''

Marinette still seemed confused but shrugged and didn’t press further. Kagami’s eyes shifted to the boxes Marinette was still carrying.

“And you? Is there a reason you’re walking down a canal with an armful of boxes?”

Marinette seemed to remember what she was holding as her eyes flickered to the packages in front of her.

“Oh, right. I’m just making a delivery for the bakery.”

Kagami was now the one to question her with a raised eyebrow.

“On foot? With that tall of a stack?”

Her expression turned sheepish. “Bad idea in retrospect, considering my clumsiness and all.”

Kagami couldn’t help but smile. “What if I help you?”

Marinette’s eyes widened. “With my delivery?”

Kagami nodded.

“What about your light exercise?”

“Whether it be going home or making a delivery I’m still walking.”

Marinette’s cheeks pinked. “Oh, uh, guess you’re right.”

She approached Marinette and reached for the top couple of boxes, taking them into her arms and waiting for Marinette to readjust her arms again.

“Okay, it’s only two blocks from here.”

Marinette began to walk and Kagami moved to follow her pace.

“Do you often make deliveries for your parents’ bakery?”

“When they need to be done yeah; it’s my way of helping out.”

Kagami looked at her profile, her pigtails more hastily tied than usual and her cheeks a paler pink than she was used to.

“Have they been keeping you busy?”

“Ah, no more than usual.”

Marinette met her eyes momentarily and Kagami wondered if those were eyebags under her eyes.

“They try not to be too demanding.”

“Really?... Have you been testing lately?”

She saw Marinette turn to her and could almost feel her puzzlement.

“Uh, no?...”

Marinette faced the walkway again.

“Why do you ask?”

“I just haven’t heard from you lately.”

There was a pause.

“I’ve just been caught up in some stuff.”

Kagami sensed she didn’t want to elaborate so she kept her questions to herself.

“Well, It’s nice to see you, even in a somewhat odd situation.”

“I’m glad to see you too.”

Her smile became soft.

“I haven’t seen much of you either, but I understand you’ve also been… busy.”

The silence that followed hung for a second too long. Kagami wasn’t sure how she should interpret that— she’d never explicitly told Marinette about her and Adrien, but they hadn’t really hid their affection. “I…” Kagami sighed. “Yeah, I have been distracted with other… stuff.”

The silence continued and Kagami considered even noting the weather to fill it. Before she could stew in the silence any longer, Marinette cut through it with a boldness she wasn’t accustomed to seeing from her.

“How are things with Adrien?”

Kagami suddenly felt very insecure and the packages of pastries in her arms felt heavier.

“We weren’t very subtle were we?”

Marinette considered her question.

“You two have been getting pretty chummy for a while.”

“... I can see what you mean.”

“You know, it’s okay. I just really hope you don’t drop me, so you guys better not stop hanging out with me.”

Marinette’s attempt at lightening the mood was stunted by the tension. Kagami was too preoccupied with finding the right response to care.

“Well, of course, I wouldn’t abandon our relationship for Adrien.”

Kagami was too consumed in her nerves to notice the change in tone of Marinette’s silence.

“You don’t have to worry about my schedule being full though.”

Marinette laughed.

“Kagami, it’s natural for couples to spend a lot of time together, you don’t have to make time you don’t have for me. Don’t worry, I have other people I can get orange juice with.” She swallowed.

“I don’t doubt you do.”

They approached a crossroad and Marinette turned, Kagami following after her. She let it out before she decided against it.

“What I meant to say, is that you don’t have to worry about my schedule being full anymore.”

Marinette stopped abruptly but Kagami expected it. Her expression was hard to decipher.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that”, Kagami stepped closer to her. “Adrien’s no longer going to be taking up my time.”

Marinette’s eyebrows slowly furrowed, she searched her face and Kagami hoped Marinette couldn’t make out her insecurity.

“You…”

“We did.”

She faced forward once again. “It’s been the case for all of a half an hour.”

“Oh, God, Kagami, I’m so sorry.”

Kagami turned to shoot her a frown. Marinette shut her mouth before she could begin her rambling. She might not be feeling like herself but she still wasn’t below taking her pity.

“Obviously I’m still processing but quite honestly, the break up actually happened last night.”

“Oh.”

“I won’t need to see him until our next fencing lesson so I’ll have time to figure something out.”

They finally continued to walk.

“I mean, I bet Adrien will make an effort to keep things friendly.”

“That’s exactly what I fear.”

“What do you mean?”

Kagami kept her eyes forward. “I’m not planning on keeping our relationship as friendly as it was before.”

She hoped she didn’t sound bitter.

“That bad, huh?”

“Adrien made his decisions so I made mine.”

Kagami definitely sounded bitter.

“Well, then I guess you should start making time for another juice date.”

Marinette’s smile felt reassuring. She slowed down and stopped in front of a pair of glass doors. Kagami could make out a lobby from the large windows on either side.

“We’re here by the way.”

Kagami went ahead and opened one of the doors, holding it for Marinette who had the taller stack of boxes. Marinette allowed her act of chivalry and entered, Kagami following behind her. She looked around the lobby as Marinette advanced to the front desk, eyeing the cushions taking up most of the room, and wondering who had thought buying several loveseats for such a small lobby was a good idea. Marinette returned before Kagami could criticize the internal design further.

“Okay, we should be able to just go up and knock on the door.”

They made their way to the elevator and Marinette pressed the button to the fourth floor. They stood in silence for a few seconds.

“It wasn’t just me that noticed the disgusting orange loveseats was it?” Kagami smirked “I also noticed their incompatibility with the room, though I was more worried with the amount of floor plan they took up.” Marinette scoffed, “More like incompatibility with my eyes.”

This time Kagami actually laughed. The elevator doors opened and they made their way into a hallway lined with numbered doors.

“Okay, I think it was apartment 127.”

They scanned the doors until finding it: apartment 127. Kagami knocked and they waited for an answer. Kagami could hear the muted sound of rock music and laughter. Finally, the door’s handle shook and the door swung open. A short woman with brown hair dyed red stood at the entrance, her eyes taking them and their armful of boxes in.

“Oh, the pastries are here!” The woman pushed the door open further, and turned her head to the apartment.

“Arthur! Come help me with the pastries.” The woman turned back to them “Sorry, lovelies, I’ll get those off ya in a sec.” A man poked his head before joining the four of them at the entrance. He was significantly taller than the woman but had the same red hair.

“Those smell good”, he grinned.

“I can assure they taste just as good”, Marinette responded, sugar sweet, in what Kagami guessed was her customer service voice. The woman and man reached out and took the boxes from them and Kagami was glad to have the weight off her arms. She stretched them out as the woman looked through her wallet and placed some bills in Marinette’s hands. “Thank you, have a nice day, ma’am.”

“Have a nice day too, ladies.”

Marinette smiled at them as they closed the door. Then she also stretched her arms with a sigh. “Okay, let’s go.”

They entered the elevator, returned to the lobby, and then exited the apartment complex.

Marinette turned to her. “Thank you so much, Kagami, people don’t tend to order so much so it was probably for the best I ran into you.”

“It wasn’t a bother,” she could feel the smile on her lips, “It was also nice to catch up with you.”

Marinette grinned at her. “Well, I guess I’ll see you at another time. You should probably call Tatsu, you’ve had enough exercise for today.”

“Oh, are you my trainer, Marinette?”

“I’m your friend, so I’m more important.”

Kagami couldn’t argue with that. An idea popped into her brain and she pursed her lips.

“Let me walk you home, Marinette.”

Marinette blinked at her.

“Walk me home?”

“Yes.” She nodded awkwardly, “Walk you home.”

“Shouldn't you be home by now?”

That made Kagami pause— it was true her mother would figure out her absence pretty soon.

“It’s fine, I’ll just text my mother.”

“But you must be tired, I really wasn’t kidding about the exercise thing.”

Kagami disliked when people coddled her, but Marinette’s worry did actually make her feel cared for.

“I’ll be fine, Marinette, I always make sure to carry extra protein bars in my bag.”

Kagami paused and furrowed her brows. “That is unless you’d rather walk home alone, I’m sorry if my request was brash.”

Marinette shook her hands. “No, no, I just didn’t want you to over exert yourself. I know you always give it your all at your fencing practices.”

While Kagami had had a tiring day, Marinette’s company has helped both the ache of her muscles and her chest.

“I’m not that tired, besides,” Kagami moved to stand beside her, “we haven’t talked about our juice date.” She was rewarded with a bright smile.

“Okay, fine, if you’re sure.” Marinette began to walk and Kagami was right beside her.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to ask you where in the world you found a red lamé?”

“Well, Marinette, I pride myself in my dedication.”

They fell into step with each other, letting the conversation flow naturally. As they made their way through the streets of Paris, Kagami listened intently to Marinette’s rambling about old fabric dyeing techniques she’d been looking into. They finally found their way to Marinette’s doorstep and they waved each other goodbye.

She was aware she might return home to a lecture, but as Kagami saw Marinette enter her home, she recognized she felt better.

--------

Marinette rested her back on a chimney, her eyes raking over the other rooftops, waiting for an unexpected attack to pop out of them at any second. Chat was similarly seated next to her, though he didn’t seem quite as on edge as Marinette felt.

Now that the duo had to worry about Shadow Moth, Marinette felt like she was on edge as soon as she transformed. Chat sensed her unease, and regularly attempted to ease her tension with a lighthearted joke. Marinette appreciated his efforts, but she also didn’t want to be distracted —just in case.

She drummed her fingers on her lap and wondered if maybe they should move to a higher vantage point. Maybe they should start making their patrols more active, circling the whole city instead of just moving to a few locations and watching. If there was going to be an akumatization tonight, Marinette hoped it would appear already. Now that she had a gaggle of kwamis to look after, Marinette’s responsibilities seemed to have doubled. She really couldn’t slack off in her schoolwork, or her duties as class rep, or her obligations to the bakery— she knew wedding season was coming up so her parents were going to really need her help. That wasn’t even mentioning all of the personal issues Marinette didn’t know how to tackle. She seemed to have been able to keep a low radar so far, but any second now her friends would figure out the earlier day’s events.

Marinette really didn’t want to think about Juleka’s reaction.

Marinette’s thrumming speed up.

Chat must have seen the anxious twitch of her fingers. “You know, it’s getting late, there probably won’t be any trouble tonight.”

Her eyes flickered to the blonde. “We haven’t checked the south-eastern side of the city.”

“I can go check on my way home.”

Marinette thought about protesting, but she could make out the worry etched onto the line of his eyebrows. His mop of hair caught her eye, messier than she was usd to— almost like it was drooping. She wondered if she wasn’t the only one having a hard time.

“You go to school so you should probably get home and rest.”

“You also go to school”, Marinette noted.

Chat’s replying chuckle felt empty.

“I’m not going to be sleeping anytime soon .” Marinette hoped it wasn’t defeat what she heard in his voice. She regarded his usually vibrant eyes, now dulled with an exhaustion Marinette could recognize.

“You too huh?”

Chat broke eye contact to look out at the Paris scenery. Marinette did the same, gazing at the endless darkness of the sky.

“It’s been a hard week.”

She could only hum in agreement.

Her suit protected her from the cold, but Marinette’s face felt icy in the night’s dropping temperature.

“Is it a personal problem?”

“Well, I think Shadow Moth has both of us on edge, but mostly yeah.”

Chat fiddled with the cuffs of his gloves. She’d always been a proponent of keeping everything private, only revealing what was necessary, but something about Chat’s frown bothered Marinette.

“I can listen.”

Chat’s head shot up, his expression one of surprise. Marinette tried to convey comfort through her own expression. “Really?”

“As long as you keep it vague. I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”

His responding smile was small, but Marinette was glad for it nonetheless.

“Well, um, okay.”

Marinette relaxed against the chimney and Chat changed his posture to face her more.

“I started seeing someone recently.”

Marinette’s eyes widened but she kept quiet.

“We were friends beforehand and I realized I liked her, so I thought it would be a good idea.” Chat exhaled. “I’m Chat Noir though, so we couldn’t keep it up.”

Understanding washed over her.

“She was pretty upset, and now… she told me she no longer wanted to have any type of relationship.”

Chat’s eyes stared at the ground(rooftop rather.) Marinette reached for him without thinking. Chat looked at the hand she placed on his shoulder, and then at her. His eyes told her he received the message:

I understand

She leaned in and hugged him. They sat like that for a few seconds, enjoying each other’s warmth, before they separated.

“I think you’re right. We should go home.”

Chat nodded and they both stood up, still facing each other.

“Chat… I know we can’t exactly hang out, but you’re my friend, so if you need anything...”

Chat nodded.

“Thank you, ladybug.”

They shared a smile before going their separate ways.

--------

Marinette was later than usual. The classroom’s tone felt different than yesterday, and Marinette read it immediately. She apologized and took her seat, trying not to meet anyone’s eyes. She could feel Alya’s on her all hour though, but she kept her eyes forward. All of her attention was focused on Mme. Bustier, Marinette throwing herself into the coursework to try and ignore the impending questions. The scratch of graphite on paper worked as a background to Mme. Bustier’s voice, and it did a good job at keeping Marinette’s mind occupied with work.

So much so that Marinette almost didn’t hear the bell.

She stared through the paper in front of her, her fingers tightening around the pencil in her hand. She could feel more eyes on her now.

Recognizing that she could no longer ignore Alya, Marinette picked herself up from her hunched posture and turned to her. Like she predicted, Alya was looking right at her. She didn’t attempt to decode the emotions in the hazel of Alya’s eyes.

She stood up and Marinette knew to follow. Mylène, Rose, Alix, and Juleka were behind them as they made their way out of the classroom. Alya stopped next to a bench and sent Marinette a look, communicating to her that she should sit down. Marinette complied. She studied Alya’s face, and Marinette disliked that the tension in it looked more like worry than displeasure— Marinette didn’t want to lie to Alya when she was looking at her with concern. Alya sighed and she sat beside her, the other girls sitting around them. Marinette thrummed her fingers, waiting for Alya’s words.

She directed them at Alix though.

“Alix, would you like to tell Marinette what you told me?”

Alix met eyes with Marinette before facing Alya. “Recently I heard something from Mylène about Marinette.”

She blew a bubble with her bubblegum and it’s pop unsettled Marinette.

“I think she knows what I’m talking about.”

Marinette sighed before rubbing her arms self consciously. She looked around at their faces— they were waiting for her but Marinette didn’t know what to tell them. She remembered the walk she’d had with Kagami some days ago. Kagami had noticed her exhaustion so soon, she could only wonder how long it must have taken her best friend.

“Do you not want to tell us what happened?”

“Um, no, no, I just… It’s just complicated, I’m not sure I’m even done processing what happened.”

Alya placed a hand on her shoulder. They all understood.

“I, well. I’ll tell you.”

Marinette took a deep breath and tried to work out what parts she had to modify.

“You guys know I’ve had feelings for Adrien all year. For months I’ve had this giant crush on him.” He heard some hums of agreement.

“These past few months I’ve actually begun to talk to him, and for a while now we’ve been friends. Somewhere during that time, I started to get to know different sides of Adrien, and my feelings deepened. I began to think that maybe he could actually like me back. I felt like we were finally connecting... But I think I’ve slowly come to realize that Adrien doesn't think about me like that.” Marinette could hear her voice lowering so she coughed and looked up. “I had to come to terms that Adrien liked someone else, loved someone else.” She tried not to think about Kagami’s words.

“Luka, he was always so sweet. With Adrien, I felt like this spluttering blubbering mess.” She sighed. “No wonder he didn’t like me back, all of my clumsiness gets turned up to a hundred around him. Even once my stuttering calmed down somewhat as we became closer, I feel like a mess around him even now.”

Alya scoffed like she’d been the one to be insulted.

“Marinette, you’re so incredibly smart and clever. You’re also kind and you don’t hesitate to help others. If Adrien hasn’t realized that yet then that’s not your fault.” She tried not to think about how Adrien was all of those things, but more. Or how Kagami was also all of those things, but yet they still…

Marinette didn’t let herself dwell on it.

“That’s something Luka would have told me.”

Alya fell silent.

“Luka made me feel like I could just be. It was easy to talk to him, and when he told me he had feelings for me… I felt like maybe we could work.”

Her eyes flickered to Juleka, but her expression hadn’t changed much.

“My feelings for Adrien were hard to ignore though. I think Luka could tell.”

“I really did like Luka. I just, I feel like I got him caught up in my emotional mess and hurt him.”

Marinette stopped thrumming her fingers and dug them into the fabric of her pants. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys. I’ve been busy and I haven’t been able to reflect on the break up yet.” Marinette looked around all of them, their faces sympathetic.

Rose stood up and wrapped her arms around Marinette. She pulled back and Marinette could see tears rimming her eyes.

“You don’t have to apologize to us, Marinette.”

“Yeah, it sounds like you’ve been having a rough time”, Mylène piped up.

Alya’s hand slid from her shoulder to her back. Marinette appreciated the act of comfort.

“Thank you guys, for being understanding. I just need some time.”

“Of course, Mari, just tell us if you need some hang out buddies to turn your brain off with.” Alix didn’t join them in their huddle around the bench, but her smile was softer than her usual smirk.

“Of course”, Marinette grinned, she could feel the mood lifting. “If any of you would like to get your butts kicked in Ultimate Mecha Strike III, you know who you can call.”

Rose and Mylène giggled, parting from Marinette so she could look up at them better. Marinette couldn’t tell them everything but she genuinely felt her mood lift.

The bell rang.

Marinette felt like now she could scratch that off her list of things to worry about.

She was about to stand up as the other girls smiled and made their way back when she turned to Alya. She was staring at her intensely, like she was analyzing Marinette.

“Uh, Alya? We should make our way back.”

Alya continued to stare at Marinette. Marinette swallowed and clutched the edge of the bench. Finally, Alya crossed her arms and stood up. She didn’t move to make their way back though.

“Alya, we’re going to be late.”

“You’re still hiding something.”

Marinette’s mouth shut. Alya just continued to bore holes through her.

“H-Hiding something?”

“Luka knew you were in love with Adrien since before. He would have been fine with waiting for you to get over him.”

“But I couldn't, okay. I was hurting him and we couldn’t-”

“Marinette, I’m your best friend, you know you can tell me anything, right?”

Marinette wanted to say she couldn’t actually. She bunched her fist in her jacket instead.

“If this is about me not being the one to tell you, I already apologized. I really am sorry, but I just wasn't in the right headspace.”

“When you’re not in the right headspace your emotions tend to spill over. You’re not the type to stew in your feelings.” Marinette narrowed her eyes at her, annoyed at how factual she’d made it sound.

“Don’t act like you know everything about me, Alya.”

Alya’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Marinette swallowed.

“I mean…” She sighed.

“Again, I’m not in the right headspace. Let’s just go to class.” Marinette left and didn’t look back to see if Alya followed.

--------

After class, Marinette shot some smiles at the girls. She apologized to Alya but she could tell she wanted to press further. She left before Alya could protest.

Marinette entered the bakery and greeted her parents, masking her mood with a bright smile.

“Hey Maman, hey Papa.”

“Hello, sweet buns. How was your day?”

Marinette circled the counter and joined them behind it.

“It was alright. Mme. Mendeleive started rambling about this guy called Louis Le Prince near the end of class. It was hard to follow but apparently he invented the camera before Eddison.”

Her mom smiled fondly at her.

“I didn’t know that. I hope that means she didn’t assign you any homework.”

They smirked at each other.

“You’d be right, Maman.”

Marinette didn’t say she was slightly disappointed about it. Her mind needed a distraction. And almost like she’d read her mind, her mother perked up, her expression somewhat sheepish.

“Would you be a dear and help us out with an order for waffle cookies. Me and papa are working on decorating a wedding cake.”

Marinette grinned at her mother.

“Of course, Maman.”

Her mother informed her of the specifics for the order before making her way back to her husband.

Marinette set her bag down on a corner and rolled up her sleeves, plugging in her headphones before reaching for the bottles of ingredients and bowls she would need. She scrolled through her Jagged Stone playlist as she plugged in the waffle iron, once finally settling on an album, stuffing her phone in her back pocket as she found her way back to the table. Marinette tried to get lost in the mindless task of measuring and mixing, making sure to be very meticulous so her mind could only focus on teaspoons of vanilla and cups of flour. These tasks were second nature to her anyway though, so eventually her mind wandered.

Marinette hoped that she’d be able to smooth things over with Alya tomorrow, but she knew how stubborn she could be— Alya wouldn’t stop questioning Marinette. Marinette was so tired of the lies. She’d been lying to Alya almost the entirety of their friendship, and Marinette hated that she was getting better at it. She could just continue to lie to her, it was probably what she would end up doing, but what if Marinette didn’t? What if she just told her the truth.

Marinette fumbled with the mixer before pouring her mixture of ingredients onto the mixing bowl. The sound of the mixer competed with the loud music of her headphones, but more thoughts kept crawling into her mind.

Marinette would admit that at times she wished she didn’t have to. It would be so nice to confide in someone who understood what being a highschooler was like, and who also had some experience with the whole superhero thing. The danger was obvious though. She’d be putting Alya’s security at risk, and hers as well of course. So much was at stake so she couldn’t even entertain the thought. That the weight of being Paris’ greatest superhero while being a seventeen year old high schooler was finally dawning on her.

The mixture of ingredients quickly turned into dough, and she began to scoop up balls of it with her fingers, morphing them into walnut sized balls.

How could Marinette be Marinette when she had to be ladybug? She had dreams she was trying to pursue, as well as responsibilities as a student and daughter. However, she also had a duty to Paris to protect its people. The reality was one she couldn’t afford to forget. These days it felt like she had to be ladybug more and more, her persona bleeding into her everyday. Maybe it was all the hiding and lying that was slowly becoming part of her personality.

Her fingers dug into the dough a bit too hard and ended up making a hole through the ball of dough. She sighed at the tiny doughnut in her hands before reshaping it.

Trust was such an important part of relationships but there was no one Marinette could trust with her secret. And as ladybug continued to dominate her life, Marinette felt as if she’d never be able to invest herself fully in one. Marinette couldn’t giver herself whole if she had to hide half of herself.

She began to line the dough balls, checking the waffle iron.

Marinette hoped she’d be allowed to just be her soon enough. She could dedicate all her time to progressing in her aspirations, accomplishing her responsibilities, and maintaining her relationships.

She sprayed the waffle iron with cooking spray.

Leaving ladybug ...meant leaving Chat Noir too though.

Her eyes studied the dots of cooking spray on the iron.

Fingers pressed into the dough as she placed them along the iron. She lowered the lid slowly.

Maybe… just maybe, they’d find each other after.

The smell of the cookies crisping began to waft over her, Marinette leaned against the table, propping her arms on the surface and closing her eyes as she focused on the smell. The kitchen was warm, and she could hear a bit of the tune her Maman was humming through her headphones. Jagged Stone’s guitar began to quiet down.

It could be that they would never see each other again after that.

Her gaze dropped to her hands, knuckles white with flour and fingertips sticky with residue dough. Her left thumb reached for her right hand and she began to fidget with her ring finger. How did Chat’s miraculous look when he wasn’t transformed? Marinette wondered if she’d be able to recognize it. After all, she doubted anyone would be able to recognize her superheroine persona shining through her fumbling civilian identity. Was Chat just as exuberant in real life? Her mind pondered what kind of teenager Chat would be like. He probably had a lot of friends, and he was probably a bit of an attention seeker. Marinette’s face softened. She bet he was insufferably kind. His friends were very lucky, they could enjoy being Chat’s friends without the weight of thousands of people’s lives on their shoulders. If they met without the masks, would they be friends?

She flattened her hands against the table, tracing circles with her fingers on the flour dusting it. The next song on her playlist began to start. The sweet smell of the cookies continued to fill her nose.

Actually…

Marinette sniffed the air.

“Eek-”

She tried to find the timer somewhere, realizing she hadn’t even taken it out. Scrambling to lift the waffle iron lid’s, Marinette bumped into the table, her hip bone knocking against the table’s edge. She yelped and clutched her hip. Too late, Marinette realized the uncapped vanilla extract bottle. She tried to stop its fall but the bottle tumbled and knocked against a bowl before falling on its side. The dark liquid spilled onto the wood immediately, and Marinette panicked as it pooled around bowls.

“Marinette?”

She only responded with a strained chuckle as she lifted the bottle off the table and regarded the pool of vanilla. “Sorry, I just spilled some extract.”

Her mother glanced from the wedding cake.

“Oh, honey, clean it up before it stains too badly.”

Marinette nodded and rushed to find some paper towels to absorb the extract. She pushed the bowls out of the way and pressed the paper towels onto the table, the white paper quickly turning dark even as the pool of liquid disappeared. Her eyes scanned the room for a rag as she replaced the paper towels. Her hands reached for the nearest one and took it, scrubbing at the surface, praying that the stain would lighten if she placed it next to a window. Suddenly, Marinette remembered what her original plan was as the air turned bitter. Her hands fumbled to open the waffle iron, revealing the now overly brown cookies. She plucked them off the iron and placed them on a cooling rack. As she reached for the last one, her pinky brushed against the hot metal and she hissed, biting her lip and scowling as she rubbed at the burn.

“Today is not my day”, Marinette mumbled.

Her mother shot a glance in her direction again, her brows painted with concern. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

“I’m fine, Maman, just a little burn.” Marinette sighed. “I’ll be right back.”

She left her parents in the bakery, climbing the stairs to her home. She pushed the door open with her body and found her way into the bathroom. Marinette opened the faucet and slid her red pinky over the cool water. The change in temperature helped the pain and she exhaled deeply.

Her eyes found her reflection on the mirror and she couldn’t help but scowl. She’d been donning a ‘finals week’ kinda tired on her face– cheeks pale, eyebags deep, and pigtails almost coming undone– but now she also had flour dusting it. She couldn’t wait for this week to end. It was still the middle of the week though, so Marinette guessed she’d need to work extra hard to make it speed by. Her other hand found the faucet and closed it. The towel bothered her skin as she toweled her hands dry, but she hoped it would calm down soon enough. She made her way out of the bathroom, and turned to the kitchen. Swinging the cooler open and scanning its interior, Marinette took a napkin and plucked an ice cube off the ice rack. She closed the cooler before swinging her body onto the counter— her Maman wasn’t here so no one had to know.

The ice was a bit harsh on the burn, but Marinette was looking to numb the pain so she pressed tightly against her pinky. A quiet chuckle passed through her lips. It’d be neat if she could have some numbing ice for other aspects of herself. As she jokingly wondered how that’d work, she realized her mother was calling out to her.

“Marinette!”

She blinked at her Maman’s voice but made her way to the stairs, poking her head down to the bakery.

“Yes, Maman?” Her mother appeared from around the corner.

“There’s a girl here asking for you, honey.”

Panic rose up her throat. Was it Alya? Marinette wasn’t ready to confront her, and she needed time to come up with something to feed to her.

“She brought you some orange juice.”

Marinette frowned at her mother. Orange juice?

Tension left her face.

Her Maman knew Alya pretty well, so Marinette supposed it’d be weird of her not to just tell her it was Alya. Making her ways down the steps, Marinette looked around the bakery. A blue bob and white jacket was the first thing she registered.

“Kagami?”

The girl was standing somewhat awkwardly in front of the counter, two plastic cups in her hands.

“Good afternoon, Marinette.” Kagami’s greeting smile was stiff on her face.

“Hey, Kagami.” Marinette responded simply, she walked towards her, and weaved around the counter. She swept her hand over her cheeks.

“Sorry I was just baking.”

“You look fine, Marinette.”

“Really? I remember a few days ago you mentioned I looked pretty bad.”

“Well, you do look tired.”

Marinette shook her head. “I can’t argue with you on that.”

The logo on the plastic cups Kagami was carrying was familiar.

“So did you just drop by to give me orange juice?”

Kagami brought the cups up to her chest. “Well”, Kagami shifted her weight from one foot onto the other, “I was hoping you’d have some with me.”

“Oh”

“Then in that case.” Marinette turned to her parents, who were probably already listening,

“Can I finish the cookies later?”

“Sure, honey, just cover the dough up.”

Marinette nodded and signaled Kagami to follow her. They walked past the counter and into the actual bakery, Marinette took some wide plates and lined the dough balls on them. She took some seran wrap and covered them, setting them off to the side. She swept her hands together to shake off any remaining flour and turned to Kagami.

“Okay, follow me.”

She led her around the corner and to the stairs. Kagami glanced around.

“So this is what leads to your actual home?”

She followed Marinette up the steps.

“Yep. The first floor is just the bakery.”

She pushed the door open and moved to let Kagami in first. Kagami took her home in. The white couch decorated with throw pillows; the kitchen with their bright blue refrigerator; the three windows spilling sunlight through grey curtains. Marinette closed the door behind them. Kagami stepped into the kitchen, her eyes roaming over the fridge. Marinette joined her.

“Weird color for a home appliance, right?”

Kagami glanced back at her, but reached her hands up to a photo on the cooler’s door, her fingertips grazing it.

“Is this a relative of yours?”

Marinette glanced at what she was looking at. The photo was a few years old, Marinette was sprawled out on the couch that was currently right behind them. A teenage boy leaning on said couch was teasing Marinette with a feather. Her face was scrunched up as said boy tickled it with the feather. They were both grinning though.

“Oh.” Marinette smiled at the picture. “That’s my older brother actually.”

Kagami’s brow questioned her, surprise evident on her face. “I wasn’t aware you had a brother.”

“Yeah, I guess I don’t talk about him enough. His name is Anthony.”

“Does he live here?”

“Oh, no, he’s studying abroad right now. He wasn’t able to come during Christmas but he’ll be here during the summer.”

Kagami seemed to mull over this information. She kept her eyes on the photo. “What was it like?” Marinette looked at her quizzically. “ Growing up with a sibling, I mean”, She clarified.

Marinette snorted. “Annoying, no one else knows how to tick you off like a sibling.” She wiggled her fingers as she presented the picture. “Exhibit here.”

“Really? I don’t know if that sound… enjoyable.”

“Pfft, well growing up with siblings is definitely pretty bothersome.” Marinette nodded at her own comment. “Sometimes it's funny but being so close to someone before gaining any sense of maturity comes with annoying downfalls.”

“People have told me it’s sad I don’t have any siblings though.”

Marinette couldn’t read Kagami’s expression.

“That’s kinda rude of them.”

Kagami smiled at her response.

“I’ve always thought so too.” She set the orange juice on the nearest surface. “But I guess I wonder if siblings are worth all of their hype.”

Marinette thought about her brother. It’d been a while since he’d last seen him, and she’d never admit to it to him, but sometimes his absence made her home feel empty.

“It’s also really nice, having someone to grow up with. I get why they might have said that.” She shrugged. “It’s a unique bond.”

“So do you miss you brother?”

“Ugh, well it’s a pain to admit but yeah.”

Kagami smirked in amusement. Marinette reached for the orange juice Kagami had brought. “I didn’t know they had such cute to go cups.” Kagami took the other cup and followed Marinette as she made her way to the counter in the kitchen, each of them taking a seat.

“You're the type to always notice design.” It wasn't a question.

“Well I might specialize in fashion designing, but if something is cute then I’ll notice.” Marinette brought the straw up to her mouth. The orange juice was refreshing and Marinette humed against the straw in contentment. Kagami smiled at her drink as well.

“I love orange juice, but is there a specific reason you’re here?”

Kagami parted her mouth from the juice and shrugged. “I suppose we never actually set a date for that orange juice date.”

“Hmm, are you maybe trying to make time up with me?”

“Well I did want to see you.”

“I’m flattered by your honesty. But I bet you also wanted to see what a bakery-home was like.”

Kagami looked around the room again instead of responding.

“Your house is so small.”

“Oh, gee, I know it's no mansion.”

“No, I didn’t mean it in a degrading way.” Kagami’s eyes flitted to a particular tiger shaped pillow on the coach. It was an old comfort toy of Marinette. “It’s homely, and warm.”

“Well it is right above a bakery”, Marinette pointed out.

“It does smell of baked goods.”

“Come on Sunday mornings. Last week I woke up to lemon-berry savarin and palmier pastries.”

“Should I come every Sunday to guess the pastry of the week?”

“You're invited to taste it too.”

They both laughed.

“I can’t promise I’d be awake to greet you, Sundays are one of my holy sleeping-in days.”

“I see you value your sleep.”

“You could say that. Like you’ve noticed though, I look like a mess when I don’t get enough of it.” Kagami didn’t respond for a second.

“So you haven’t been getting much sleep?”

“Oh, ah”, Marinette laughed awkwardly. “No, spose I haven’t.”

“You have a lot of responsibilities.”

“That I do.” Marinette chewed on the straw of her juice.

“Thank you for coming actually, I’ve been having an off day.”

“Rough week?”

“Pretty much.”

They sat in a comfortable silence as their juice slowly disappeared. Marinette noted that Kagami looked better than she had the last time they’d met. Part of her wanted to ask how that whole thing was going for her, but did she actually want to know?

“So”, Kagami broke the silence first. “You make deliveries but you also bake?”

“Of course, what kind of baker’s daughter do you take me for?”

“Do your parents expect you to take on the bakery someday?” Marinette opened her mouth but then swallowed.

“They understand I have a dream for designing, but we still haven’t figured it out. They really want to keep the bakery alive.”

“Sorry, it seems like a complicated subject.”

“It is, but it’s okay.” Marinette slurped the last of her orange juice and set her cup down. “It really is okay though, a discussion for the future. Like you said, I have enough on my plate at the moment.” Kagami also finished her drink

“Well I hope the bakery stays open until next Sunday, I want to try the pastry of the week.”

Marinette giggled. “I’ll make sure to make you something special.”

“Do many people get the pleasure of tasting your baking?”

“Some lucky souls out there in Paris.”

“I trust you’re good then.”

“Well I think my baking is plenty tasty, I’m just a clutz.”

“So your clumsiness doesn't interfere with the taste?”

“No, it just endangers my safety, as well as anyone’s in a three meter radius”, Marinette sighed.

“I do read you as accident prone.”

“Don’t laugh but actually I stained the work table with vanilla extract and burned my pinky only a few minutes before you came.”

Kagami’s brows rose in surprise.

“Wow, really?”

“Yep”, Marinette grumbled, lifting her right hand up. It wasn’t so distinct anymore but her finger was still red. Kagami noticed.

“I see, does it still hurt?”

“Not really, I mean it’s not fun getting burned but I have thick skin so it’s okay.”

Kagami paused and looked at her, confused. “Thick skin?”

“I’ve been pricking my fingers with needles for years, scaring has made my skin thicker and less sensitive.”

“Oh, I had no idea.”

“Yeah, sometimes I get quite insecure about it. I don’t think a guy would appreciate holding hands with me. Girls are supposed to have soft skin or whatever.”

“I know what you mean, fencing has made me build my own callouses.”

“Oh that’s right, your fence training must have done a similar number on your hands.”

Kagami nodded holding her palms out on the countertop. “I have a similar insecurity.” Marinette gazed at her hands, she could make out the callouses. She leaned closer to Kagami, placing her left hand on the countertop too.

“May I?”

Kagami’s dark eyes considered her, her bangs almost completely covering her eyebrows— It made it hard at times to decipher her expression— said bangs bounced as Kagami nodded. Marinette moved her eyes from Kagami to her palms. She lifted her left hand, her knuckles grazing the cool countertop as it approached Kagami’s. Their skin touched, marinette’s index finger grazing Kagami’s pinky. Her touch was tentative as she brushed her fingertips over Kagami’s fingers and against the inside of Kagami’s hand. It was unexpectedly cool. Just like Kagami had said, the skin along her palm’s crease was distinctly tough and one could only wonder the years of training needed to result in such callouses. She studied Kagami’s hand. Her palm was more plush than her own, but her fingers were bonier, and they also had a yellow undertone that darkened around the edges of her hands and turned into the warm color of the rest of her body. Marinette found this information oddly fascinating.

Her eyes flitted to Kagami’s face. Her gaze was on Marinette’s fingers, and Marinette realized that she was caressing Kagami’s palm. She flushed and retracted her hand, drumming her fingers on the countertop.

“Um, your hands are pretty nice actually.”

Kagami’s hands curled into loose fists.

“They aren’t soft though.”

“No, but anyone can tell that your skin’s texture is the product of hours of hard work.”

Kagami didn’t respond, but Marinette could make out a whisper of a smile on her lips.

“They, uh, they’re cool too.. Nice and cool.” Marinette swallowed, embarrassed she’d actually said that. Kagami blinked at her and Marinette hoped she hadn’t made it weird.

“Your’s are warm.”

Marinette stopped her drumming.

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Baker’s daughter thing again?”

Marinette chuckled and looked at her own hands now. “Yep, exactly.” She ran her right thumb along the base of her left thumb. Her skin had more of a pink undertone which she knew she’d inherited from her papa. Marinette wondered if both of Kagami’s parents had warm undertones. She glimpsed in Kagami’s direction. Her eyes were on the countertop, somewhat hidden behind her bangs. Marinette realized how little she actually knew of Kagami. They hadn’t been friends for that long so maybe that was obvious. Was it one of those rich kid-strict parents thing?

A ringing broke her train of thought. Kagami sat up and reached for her pocket, hastily pulling her phone out. A frown pulled on her lips.

“Everything alright? Is your mom calling?”

“Just a text. She wants me to come home now/”

“Oh, do you need to be somewhere?”

“No, it’s just past the time I told her It’d be here.”

“Why does she need you home then?”

“She doesn't, she just doesn't like it when I don’t stick to my plans.” Kagami returned her phone to her pocket, she could make out her exasperation through her movements.

“You need to leave then.”

“I do. I’ve intruded long enough anyways.”

“Of course you haven’t. But I’ll walk you out.”

Marinette stood up and Kagami followed. They made their way back to the bakery. Kagami nodded her head at her parents, a small bow of her head. “Thank you for letting me come into your home, M. and Mme.Dupain-Cheng.”

“You're always welcome -”

“Kagami”, Marinette offered.

“You're always welcome, Kagami. Have a good night, sweetheart.”

“And you as well.”

They exited the bakery, Tatsu already waiting for her.

“Well, it was nice seeing you. Feel free to come again.”

“I enjoyed talking with you.” Kagami’s smile was warm, her statement genuine.

“Thank you for allowing me to stay.”

Marinette could feel her own smile on her face. She waved as Kagami entered the car and drove off. It was evening by now.

Marinette stood in front of her home. She felt better.

A/N:

It's been a while since I last saw some of the episodes so if anything seems off let me know. I don't know if Anthony will make an appearance but I love the Brother AU so I'm including it. Feedback is appreciated, especially since I don't have any beta readers, point out any mistakes please. -Rey :D

#Marigami #Kagaminette #marinette dupain cheng #Marinette #Kagami Tsurugi #Kagami #mlb #mlb fanfic #miraculous ladybug #ladybug #you keep me waitin’#ykmw

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goofygomez · 3 years ago

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Moonlit Wishes - A Rayllum Fanfic

Hey everyone, long time no see! I've been on hiatus for a very long time, and it's very quite good for my mental health. Recently I binged The Dragon Prince on Netflix (highly recommend it) and decided to do as I do and write a fic for it.

This one in particular is inspired by @raayllum's amazing Hiatus Hoedown. This time I'm taking a crack at Day 1: Talking to the moon. Hope you guys enjoy it.

Here's a link to the Ao3 story, if you'd prefer to read it on there.

Description: Callum and Rayla discuss the differences in their cultures' way of wishing upon celestial bodies, fluff ensues.

Wordcount: 3386

----

Callum had always loved the moon, even as a child. It had always looked to him as a watchful eye, surveying the world beneath it. His mother would take him on nightly strolls along the castle to go see it, and she knew the secret passages to the highest towers without alerting the Crownsguard. She called them ‘their little adventures’. Of course, she was the Queen, so they did not really need to sneak around, but Callum found their nighttime wanderings something… magical.

They would stare up at the moon and tell each other about their days, sometimes sharing a jelly tart from the town baker until eventually, he’d fall asleep on her lap. He never did get to tell his mother how much those nights meant to him before it was too late. Nearly ten years later, that void in his heart still ached every time he looked up at that beautiful silver moon.

“What’ya thinking about?” came the voice of Rayla from behind him. He turned to see his girlfriend tilting her head at him.

“Nothing, just… thinking,” he said.

“Oh, that’s specific,” teased the elf.

Callum rolled his eyes and took her hand in his, four fingers against five. Her silver hair fell gracefully over her shoulders, a small braid poking its way through it on her left side. Her lilac eyes, bright and alert as ever, looked into his green ones, and a goofy grin spread across her lips.

“Just thinking about you… and how beautiful you are,” he said, trying his best at sounding smooth. It was partially downplayed by his voice cracking, but she giggled nonetheless.

“Shut up, you dummy.” She punched him playfully on the shoulder.

“C’mon, I wanna show you this place,” he said, gesturing behind him.

They were on the outskirts of the Katolian Capital’s forest, walking down a partially obscured path. Large, ancient trees stood like sentries on either side of them, their tops barely obscuring the silver rays of moonlight seeping through the branches, casting odd, elongated shadows over the packed dirt. Dead leaves and pine needles were strewn about haphazardly, almost deliberately to accentuate their footfalls.

Callum thought of the last time he came to this particular spot with his brother and step-father. It seemed an eternity ago that they’d played ‘I spy’ on this very path. Now, their father was dead and Ezran, newly crowned King of Katolis, had spent the first few months of his rule advocating for the union of the human kingdoms with the Xadian population, with Callum at his side. It had not been easy so far, as some wounds were still fresh in the other rulers’ minds, but Ezran had still not lost hope.

Rayla had been with them most of the time, trying her best to be an ambassador for the young king, though her status with the Moonshadow elves was still under review. Callum assured her that they would eventually be forced to lift her banishment, but some of the elder elves were… stubborn in their thinking. He just hoped they would listen to them when they arrived there next month.

After a few minutes of silent pacing, punctuated solely by their soft footsteps and the occasional chirping of crickets, they arrived at a large clearing. Just ahead of them, a small lake shimmered under the moonlight. The packed dirt on the path gave way to lush green grass, illuminated both by the starry sky and fireflies. The bank closest to them was filled with small boulders, eroded by millennia of contact with the eerily still waters.

Callum stepped back to let Rayla see the whole picture and grinned.

“So? What do you think?”

The elf glanced around the clearing with awe and wonder in her eyes. Callum did not fail to notice her disgruntled expression directed at the peaceful water.

“Don’t worry, we’re not going into the lake,” he assured her, chuckling when Rayla sighed dramatically.

“Thank the Moon,” she said, nodding. “If you had brought me to a nighttime swim, I would probably break up with you.”

“Duly noted.” He took her hand again and led her to one of the boulders, careful not to steer her too close to the water’s edge. “I just thought it would be fun to just… hang out here.”

They sat on the rock and spread out, stretching their legs slightly after a half-hour walk down the forest.

“It does seem peaceful,” she conceded, laying her head on his shoulder. “Been a while since we were able to do this.”

Callum sighed. “I know.” Between assisting his brother and Rayla’s constant trips to and from Xadia, they had not had much time to themselves as a couple. “I promise to make a little more time when you’re here.”

“At least it’s for a good cause, right?” said Rayla. “I mean, Ez needs all the help he can get. Plus, we’ve got a lot of time to… catch up once things settle down.” She looked up at him with a fond smile.

Callum thought of all the times, even before they got together, that they just sat on a patch of dirt or some rock, looking at the sky and wondering when their mission would be over; wondering if they’d ever see their homes again, or would live to tell the tale.

“I just want to know when that is. Even just an estimate would be nice,” he said half-heartedly, letting out a deep breath and leaning forward to place a caste kiss on her lips. “But this is worth the wait.”

“Look who’s all sappy all of a sudden,” she said with a grin and kissed him again. “I love you, dummy.”

“I love you, too.”

They sat there, enjoying each other’s presence for what felt like forever, but could only have been ten minutes. A soft breeze had picked up from the east, creating ripples on the otherwise still surface of the lake; distorting the reflection from the crescent moon above. He looked up once more, wondering if his mother was out there somewhere, overjoyed that her sons were following in her and Harrow’s footsteps.

Just as he scanned the sky for whatever signs she would send him, something incredible happened. Almost as if called upon by his thoughts, a shooting star streaked across the star-strewn sky, bright and beautiful. As fast as it had come, it vanished.

“Look, did you see that?” he exclaimed excitedly, pointing at the spot where it had just been.

“Uh, what am I looking at?” asked Rayla, confused.

“The shooting star, right there.” He closed his eyes and muttered under his breath. He could feel Rayla staring at him, and after a few seconds, opened his eyes to see her wide-eyed and thoroughly confused.

“Wha- What just happened?” she said, glancing between him and the sky.

“It’s a shooting star,” he said matter-of-factly. “When you see one, you make a wish. Don’t elves do that?”

“Wait, humans wish upon shooting stars?” she asked incredulously. “Why?”

Callum shrugged. “I don’t know, we just do. It’s a tradition or something.”

“Humans are weird.”

“Sure, what do you guys wish upon? The moon?” he said with a smirk, enjoying a little too much how pink her cheeks got.

Rayla scoffed. “As a matter of fact, we do,” she said, trying and failing to sound indignant.

“But the moon is there every night,” he said, glancing up at the sky and frowning. “That’s a lot of wishes.”

“We only wish on a New Moon, dummy,” she explained patiently.

“Why only the New Moon?” Callum asked, genuinely curious. It seemed logical enough that they wouldn’t wish on the moon every single night, but any insight into his girlfriend’s culture was something he did not take lightly.

“Well, the idea is that a New Moon signals the beginning of another cycle. The halfway point between two Full Moons, which is when we’re at our strongest. The Moon Arcanum supposedly… blesses us when we’re at our weakest.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Callum said pensively. “More sense than whatever humans came up for shooting stars, at least.”

“So… what did you wish for just now?”

“I can’t say.”

“Why? Is it embarrassing?” teased Rayla, poking him in the ribs. He chuckled but shook his head.

“No, because if I tell you, it won’t come true.”

“Well that’s no fun,” she said with a pout.

Callum shrugged and scooted closer to Rayla, taking her right hand in his and squeezing gently. They both sighed contently, almost as if they knew what the other was thinking; could sense the peacefulness and the stillness of the air around them.

“Tell you what, if it comes true, I’ll let you know,” he said, kissing the top of her head, careful to avoid her horns.

“Sounds good,” she said. “So what were you muttering before? I have good hearing but it barely sounded like words.”

“It’s like a little song you say before you make your wish?”

Rayla studied him curiously, nodding along as he spoke. She seemed to be thinking about something, debating with herself. She blinked once and looked into his eyes.

“Would you teach me?” she asked softly.

“You wanna make a wish?” he said. When she nodded, he sat up straight, facing her. He took her hands in his and grinned. “Repeat after me. Star bright, star light.”

She nodded and followed his instructions. She closed her eyes and sighed before saying, “Star bright, star light.”

“First star I see tonight.” He thought it might not count, as she had not done it before, but it was the thought that counted, right?

She repeated the phrase and her lips curved ever so slightly upwards.

“Wish I may, wish I might,” he continued

“Wish I may, wish I might.”

“Have the wish I wish tonight,” he concluded, opening his eyes and seeing her mouthing the end of the song, nodding almost solemnly. Her eyes fluttered slowly open and landed on him.

Callum heard the rustling of leaves above them, possibly from a squirrel scrutinizing them or a songbird perching on a branch. He thought of all the time they’d have as a couple, especially after their help was not as imperative in the running of Katolis, to just… be happy together. How long had he refrained from letting himself be truly content with his life? And now, being with Rayla, he couldn’t even imagine anything or anyone else for him.

He leaned forward and kissed her ever so gently. Her lips tasted of moonberries, and her violet eyes, almost glowing in the dark, closed as she melted into the kiss and he felt her hand on his scarf, not quite pulling him in but not pushing him either. When they broke apart, he was grinning.

“My wish did come true,” he said, cheekily.

“Mine too,” she replied.

Rayla’s footsteps were light and gentle on the soft ground; years of training to be an assassin still ingrained in her every move. Even eight years after meeting who she now knew was the love of her life, there still was a part of her that kind of missed those times when life was so… straightforward. Even so, as she looked back at Callum – now a few inches taller than he’d been when they met, and growing what could only be described as the faintest shadow of a beard – she knew in her bones that that little part of her was wrong.

He looked impressive with his fur overcoat, his immaculately woven violet undershirt (which he claimed matched her eyes) and his leather boots. He had opted not to wear his signature red scarf tonight, which she suspected was just so he could more prominently showcase his facial hair, which he was weirdly proud of.

Callum stood a little ways away from Rayla, looking up at the moon with closed eyes and a sort of… wistful expression on his face. Her mind instantly brought the memory of one of their first dates to this magical clearing in Katolis, where she’d taught him the strange human tradition of wishing upon shooting stars. Moon and Stars, Ethari had burst out laughing when she had told him. Humans were weird.

Now, her weird human was stoically standing with his hands on his hips. She cleared her throat, leaning against a nearby tree. Callum shook his head as though he hadn’t realized she was there, and grinned.

“Hey, sorry, did I space out?” he said.

“Yeah, it was daytime when you stopped there,” she replied, arching an eyebrow.

He snorted and held out his hand, which she gratefully took. “I’m sure it was less than a minute.”

They resumed their stroll down the familiar path, pine needles crunching merrily under Callum’s less graceful steps. She only rolled her eyes in response and lay her head on his shoulder, doing her very best not to impale him with one of her horns, which had also grown considerably as she reached adulthood. She knew humans had a rather short life expectancy; at least shorter than the oldest elves she knew back in Xadia, but at least their early years of development were more or less even.

She wondered in silence just how much of a difference their physiology would make down the road. Would she outlive him by decades? Would the rest of her human friends do the same…? She shook her head and pushed away those thoughts, choosing instead to bask in the moment; being here with Callum was all that mattered.

Eventually, the trees thinned, thick trunks giving way to mere shrubbery as the clearing they’d been seeking opened up in front of them. A beautiful, albeit terrifying lake, loomed ahead of them, its unnervingly calm waters barely rippling in the autumn breeze. She could see the reflection of the stars in it, flashing intermittently like little candles flickering in the night.

Wordlessly, Callum and Rayla kept following the path until they reached their favourite spot: a large boulder, far enough away from the shore that her skin didn’t prickle with anxiety every time a particularly strong current grazed the edges. Callum had attempted to help her through her fear multiple times, but the best he’d ever gotten her to do was get on a boat without getting extremely seasick.

It wasn’t as though sea travel was a major obstacle between the human kingdoms and Xadia. Most if not all the roads to and from her ancestral home were entirely land-based, so she hadn’t had to brave the murderous ocean ever since their stint with Captain Villads, which she still claimed was one of the worst experiences of her life.

“You alright?” she heard Callum say beside her, as they sat atop the boulder and looked out toward the lake. “You look a little pale.”

“Just a little… cold,” she lied, shrugging. It wasn’t a complete lie, of course. The breeze had picked up considerably in the last half hour they’d been walking, but she was pretty used to the cold when living in Katolis.

Ever the gentleman, Callum took off his overcoat and draped it over her shoulders, ignoring her protests. She grinned sheepishly at him and cuddled closer to him, the warmth of the coat enveloping her only slightly more than her closeness to him.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice soft. He moved around for a second before settling in against the rock and wrapping an arm around her.

“Anything for you,” he said. She felt her cheeks heat up, almost childishly. He had complimented her thousands of times over the years, but it still didn’t mean she was used to it.

“Y’know, there was an actual reason I brought us here tonight,” he added after a few minutes of silence.

“Oh?” she said, looking up at him curiously.

“Well, I just wanted to, uh, tell you how much I love you, and how much better you’ve made not only my life, but everyone’s,” he said, clearly fumbling for words, as though he had rehearsed this and did not want to get a single thing wrong. “You’re beautiful and kind, and strong, and…” he trailed off, looking down at her apologetically. “I’m very bad at this.”

She chuckled and sat up straight, facing him as she had all those years ago under a crescent moon. “No, go on,” she said. “I like when you get all flustered.”

“Oh, then this should be a joyride for you,” he said, assuming her same posture. “I just… wanted to show you just how much I love you. Ever since you tried to kill me that night…” He looked at her with a smirk, and it was her turn to flush. “You changed my life, and I wouldn’t trade these last 8 years for the world. You make me feel whole, even in my worst days, or when I’m frustrated by a new spell, or a council meeting gone wrong. You’re always there for me. So…”

He turned slightly to the side and shoved his hand into his pocket, struggling against what she assumed were nerves. She was extremely curious as to where this was going, but her suspicions were rising. Eventually, he pulled out what seemed to be a rather small box. It was violet, like his undershirt and her eyes.

“Rayla,” Callum said, sucking in a breath and looking at her with those big green eyes of his sparkling in the starlight. He opened the small box and Rayla could finally see that it was a silver ring. It was adorned with two tiny amethysts, glinting brightly up at her, flanking what she recognized at once as a Moon Opal. Her breath caught in her throat, tears threatening to break surface with her eyes.

“Will you marry me?” she heard him say, almost hazily; as though in a dream.

She took several long looks at him, then back at the ring, then finally landed on his face, contorted with an awkwardness only Callum could pull off as cute instead of downright constipated. She let out a small laugh and nodded slowly, watching as his emerald green eyes widened, as though he couldn’t quite believe them.

“Yes,” she said softly. “Yes, I’ll marry you, you big dummy.” She launched herself at him and enveloped him in a rather strong hug, tears now flowing freely from her eyes, because who would even judge her for it? After a few seconds – or it might have been an hour – or several moonlit nights – they broke apart. She kissed him deeply and he grabbed the ring from the box, taking her left hand with his own.

“Uh…” he hesitated, looking from her hand to her face. “Which hand do elves wear wedding rings on?”

Rayla couldn’t help but giggle. In any other circumstance, she would have rolled her eyes and playfully punched him in the shoulder. This time, however, she just shrugged. “This one.” She pointed to her fourth finger, smiling.

A little more confidently, he took her hand and gingerly placed the ring on it. She heard him breathe a sigh of relief and chuckled.

“You were really nervous, weren’t ya?” she teased, admiring the ring on her hand. “You knew I was gonna say yes regardless, so why worry?”

“I did, but it still doesn’t make it any less nerve-wracking,” he said, shrugging. “You like it?”

“I love it, it’s beautiful,” she said, leaning in to kiss him again.

They lay back against the boulder, looking up at the sky, their hands clasped and breathing deep. The New Moon stood sentry in the sky, grey and muted against the starry night, yet oddly imposing. She could feel the pull of it in her bones; the characteristic surge of energy that nighttime gave her kind. She pondered this as a thought occurred to her.

“Was that what you were doing before?” she asked tentatively, glancing up at her boyfriend. No, not her boyfriend… her fiancé.

“Yeah, I remembered that time you showed me how you guys wish on the New Moon,” he explained, laying his head on the top of hers. “I guess I wanted to be extra lucky tonight.”

“You’re a dork,” she said, matter-of-factly.

“But I’m your dork,” he retorted.

Yes, he was her dork, and she was his. Forever.

#the dragon prince #tdp #callum #rayla #rayllum #hiatus hoedown #raayllum #ttm is not canon here

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