#and with that entire thought process in my head i switched the subject immediately!

[xoxoxoogoinimsane]

ok then????? date me

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

M-more armin vs eren drabbles please

WC: 3.2k

Title: Melted Candles

Warnings: possessive behavior, cheating, armin x reader x eren, obsession, unhealthy relationships. manipulator armin & toxic eren.

You’re fidgeting with the hem of your short dress that your loving boyfriend bought you, nursing a drink, and half-heartedly scrolling through your phone.

Sitting on the olive couch alone as the musings of a party transpire, you eye the big and colorful banner sporting the words “Happy 20th Birthday Eren!”.

“It’s like Eren to be late to his own birthday party huh?”

A smooth, gentle voice breaks you out of your trance. You turn sideways to face Armin Arlert, a pretty boy with short-cropped blond hair and wide oceanic eyes. He’s all dressed up in a deep grey turtleneck, navy dress pants, and an expensive Omega watch on his wrist.

You must have looked frightened because he chuckles as he takes a seat next to you, a respectful distance away, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. Are you having fun?”

“Uh well it’s a surprise party, it’s not like Eren knows he’s supposed to be here.” You have an immediate desire to slap a hand over your mouth after the words spillover. You wince, not entirely in love with the fact that it was your first instinct to defend Eren.

If you had been more observant, you would have noticed the corners of his lips flick upwards in amusement. But Armin is observant enough for the both of you. He notes the color of embarrassment in your cheeks and continues the subject with ease.

“Ah, yeah. That’s right. Eren hates celebrating his birthday, but they're always a good excuse to get everyone together" He pauses before grinning so wide it doesn't look genuine, "-maybe this is more for us than him.”.

There’s an underlying tension in his words you can’t make heads and tails off. It reminds you of how truly little you knew of Eren's very own best friend.

You smile brightly, channeling all the optimism you could into changing the topic: “Everyone’s trying their best today! Sasha did all the catering and managed to leave the cake perfectly alone even though it’s her favorite flavor. She has the patience of a saint today.”

As if on cue, there’s a commotion in the background. Jean yells at Sasha, “Don’t finish all the lemon-pepper wings Potato Girl!”

Armin laughs and it's a pretty sound, a sound that reminds you of a bell chime. Unconsciously, he shifts closer to you, knees knocking into yours.

“Yeah, you’re right. Connie's even hosting it, and he let us decorate his man cave."

You look at the streamers and balloons, and Armin follows your eyes.

“You did a great job decorating.”

You blush, “It was honestly a team effort. Mikasa did way more, I promise.”

“So humble”, he teased. As he smooths his slacks, your eyes can’t help but fall on the shine of the silver band on his slender finger, an engagement ring.

“Annie couldn’t make it today?” There’s a flash of a grimace on his face but he schools his features right away.

“She doesn’t really like parties,” he laughs softly, “She’s like Eren in that way.”

“Oh,” you paused. He was clearly hiding something but it wasn’t in your place to pry. You didn’t know much about Annie. In fact, you were a little intimidated by her icy demeanor and arctic eyes. It amused you at first when you learned she was Armin’s partner.

Opposites must attract, because where Annie was the cold seeping into your bones, Armin was a furnace radiating warmth.

There wasn’t much more to say with the conversation heading to a peaceful silence, until his arms lightly touch yours, “I’m really glad you came.”

His fingertips graze the sleeve of your dress.

You flush, “Well, I wouldn’t be a very good girlfriend if I didn't come to his birthday party.”

The pretty blond clicks his tongue, “I suppose.” He inhales, thumbs swiping the rim of his glass, “You’re too good for him. Do you know that?”

To say you were surprised would be an understatement. You don’t have a response ready but Armin continues, “I love Eren of course. Been friends with him since we were children but-” Deep sigh, “I feel like I barely know him anymore. No one knows him anymore.”

In a small voice, you squeak “I do.” But the unsureness of your tone made your words seem like it was a question.

Armin smiles, one that’s filled with mirth.

Boldly, he squeezes your thigh, the flesh right below where your dress ends, “You deserve better.” His oceanic eyes seem darker under the dim lighting.

Why weren’t you moving away? Were you letting his hand itch closer to roaming the softness underneath silky fabric?

You swivel your head around, praying no one is seeing anything. Thankfully everyone was too swept up in their own conversations. As if to soothe you, his hands draw circles on the soft pliant skin, “Don’t worry, no one can see us.”

The ring glints harshly. Admittedly, Eren’s soft-spoken best friend is just a little attractive. You didn’t always think to see him this way, but Armin changed, and all the general anxiety he possessed matured into a quiet confidence.

He reminds you of Eren in that way. But still, you're at crossroads here. Is Armin making a move on you? Is he warning you? Should you even be here right n-

Your internal monologue is interrupted by Mikasa clapping her hands, and then putting a finger on her lips, “We’re going to turn off the lights, ok? They’ll be here in a few minutes. When Eren starts coming in, yell surprise.” Armin hand’s leave your legs, the warmth gone.

“Oy, oy, oy. Don’t we need a signal?” Connie asks, confusion apparent on his face.

“Jesus Connie, if you can’t even figure this out, what are we going to do with you?” quips Jean.

Mikasa shakes her head.

Sasha lightly punches her best friend, “It’s okay Coomer, just follow my lead.”

“How will that work since you’re stupider than me?” The hazel eyed boy asks, voice dripping in concern. “Eh?” Sasha replies with an equally concerned tone.

Mikasa pinches the bridge of her nose, “I’m going to turn the light off now.”

Eren would be here soon. You barely register Armin putting his arm around the couch, not around you per se, but the proximity was close enough to send your heart racing.

In the switch of a light, the room was engulfed in darkness and excited giggles that Mikasa promptly hushed. And then was just the sound of breathing. You could hear yours and you could hear Armin’s.

Softly, the blond uttered, “I’m going to do something I’ve always wanted to do.” You could feel featherlight fingers tilting your jaw, and capturing your pillowy lips.

The doorknob rattled. Soon after, light from the hallway trickled in. A still moment. As soon as the kiss started, it ended. A flash of light exploded before your eyes and a cacophony of people yelling Surprise! rang out.

At the center of attention was Eren Yeager, who...did not look surprised at all. His eyes were not even adjusting to the light the way yours was. A tall redhead accompanied him, someone who you vaguely recognize as Floch.

The birthday boy was clad in a white button-up, sleeves rolled to his elbows and the top button was unfastened. His dress pants were slim-fitting and black.

The green-eyed boy’s face was devoid of expression. In comparison to his stoic nature, you thought your heart was going to explode.

Wryly Armin says, “Oh look, your boyfriend has arrived.” As if on cue, Eren’s eyes locked with yours.

At that moment, there were too many things to process.

Luckily, Eren was surrounded by a small crowd of his closest friends. You could hear Jean cackle, “Come on! You’re not even surprised.”

You turned your head to face the boy who took advantage of the darkness, a scarlet blush staining your face, “Why did you-?!”

He gazed at you with shining eyes like he had found clarity, not even bothering to feign guilt. With agility only he had, he took your palm in his, “I know you used to like me.”

Blood rushing in your ears, you tear your hands “What are you doing? Eren’s right there. Don’t touch me.” You hissed, scooting away for good measure.

“You didn’t deny what I said.” The blond pointed out calmly, “Yeager is no good for you. He keeps you in the dark about his life and he’s certainly not loyal..”

“I-I can’t deal with this. I never expected this from you Armin.” You shot up from the couch, trepidation filling your nerves, “Now if you excuse me, I’m going to greet my boyfriend.” You uttered the last word with as much hostility you could muster.

Mikasa had her arms wrapped around Eren. Which was fine. They’re best friends. They’ve known each other far longer than you knew him. He thinks of her as a sister.

He thinks of her as a sister.

You walked over, looming behind them. Most of the crowd had dispersed, with only Eren and the Ackerman girl lost in their own world.

What is wrong with you? You scold yourself. You didn’t usually think like this.

“[Y/N]”

Eren noticed you right away, and Mikasa turned around to face you.

“Sorry [y/n], didn’t mean to take so much of his time from you.” The dark-haired girl smiled apologetically.

You could feel guilt gnaw at you, how could you ever suspect her? She waved to Eren, and warmly thanked you, “You did so much of the planning. Thank you.” And before you could reply, she left.

That left you alone with the man himself. “Hi.” You said shyly. He smirked, “Hi babe. Long time no see huh.”

His viridian eyes slowly roamed your appearance, head to toe. You blushed under his stare as they paused longer than necessary on the dip of your neckline, and the expanse of legs not covered by the silk dress.

“So you did all this?” He teased, vaguely gesturing to the string lights, and hanging paper flowers.

He steps closer to you until he’s just a breath away. “Hardly. Just helped out wherever I could.” You whisper.

He hugs you, his tall frame enveloping yours. You feel so safe, pressed against his chest, as his arms compass the slight of your back.

His cologne is your favorite. Subtle, and intoxicating with thick notes of spice. You sniff something else, something overpoweringly distinct.

Still enclosed in his arms, you look up to him, “Did you drink?”

He takes a step back, still wrapping an arm to your waist, “I met up with Zeke. He offered me a drink.”

“Zeke?” You questioned, “You visited your brother?”

Eren was privy to sharing details about his life and you knew virtually next to nothing about Zeke, his half-brother he came recently in contact with.

He kisses the top of your head, and you can feel the loose strands that escaped his bun tickle your face, “It’s nothing to worry your pretty little head about.”

He keeps you in the dark about his life.

“You were cozying up with Armin on that couch, weren’t you?” His tone is light, containing a thinly veiled accusation.

You laugh it off, hoping he wouldn’t notice how tense you suddenly got, “No, no. We were just talking. I was sure I was going to kill myself out of boredom just waiting for you.”

Snuggling closer to him, you stand on your tippy-toes to kiss his jawline, trying to distract him from wavering thoughts.

“Oh?” He asked, “Armin wasn’t entertaining you well enough? Well, he does have a tendency to babble about nothing.”

As he talked, you had a feeling he wasn’t really looking at you, but rather peering straight behind you.

An uneasy feeling fills your lungs, “Um Eren, let’s head to the kitchen. I can fix you a plate. Niccolo did the catering so you know it’ll be really good-”

The tall boy waved your suggestion away, “Not hungry. In fact, why don’t we head over to my best friend? I haven’t talked to him in a while.” You didn't appreciate the mocking lilt in his tone.

Before you could dissuade him, he was already pulling your wrist so you could turn, hand placed on the small of your back, leading you somewhere you definitely did not want to go.

The charming blond was still situated on the couch but this time joined by a woman who was talking rather animatedly. You vaguely recognized her by her chin-length wavy ash-colored locks. Hitch.

“-Annie is so lucky! Jesus, I can’t believe you guys are engaged! And Marlowe still hasn’t worked up the nerve to-”

Eren coughed, asserting his presence. Two pairs of eyes flitted upwards. Hitch sighed dramatically, “Well if it isn’t the birthday boy. The big 2-0. You’re not a teen anymore Yeager. Think you’re ready for the adult world?”

Your boyfriend, who was never one for false pretenses and small talk, ignored her question entirely, “Hello Hitch. If you don’t mind, I would like to catch up with Armin here.”

The woman rolled her eyes, “Guess that’s my cue to leave.” As she stood up, she looked back and forth between the boys, noting the animosity that seemed to permeate the air as they burned holes into each other.

“Why are the vibes so tense? The energies you two are radiating...is reminiscent of a pissing contest”

Without really intending to, you let out a chuckle, attracting the attention of the three people around you.

Hitch’s eyes softened, “[Y/n], I haven’t seen you in a minute. Let’s go do shots with Mina and Hanna.”

Eren’s grip on you tightened, “She’s staying right here Hitch. Enjoy yourself though”

“Funny, I don’t recall asking you. Your girlfriend can’t speak for herself?”

“Uhm, thanks for the offer Hitch but no thank you, I’m not really in the mood to drink right now.” You chuckle nervously, flashing a big enough smile that will ascertain that everything is okay.

Hitch shrugs, “Suit yourself”, and proceeds to walk away.

“Well, I suppose I have to thank you for driving her away. She’s quite...talkative.” Armin breaks the silence. He addresses you both but his eyes are trained on you, “Back already [y/n]?” An easy smile spreads across his face.

You don't look at Eren’s face to gauge his reaction, but you notice how the hand around your waist squeezes almost painfully. The boys stand up to shake hands. Armin gestures for the two of you to sit but the dark-haired boy waves it away, “We prefer to stand.”

The blond gazes between the two of you questioningly but seemingly accept Eren’s response, “Okay then. Guess I’ll stand too.”

“Where’s Annie? Trouble brewing in paradise?”

Armin’s smile hardens, “Don’t know how you’d assume that. She’s just not here.”

Unease pinpricks at you. You could feel trepidation in the air.

“What a shame. Doesn’t Annie like me?” Eren taunts before delivering a line you didn’t expect, “I recall a time where she liked me much more than you actually.”

Surprise is an understatement for how you feel. You didn’t even want to register the implication of his statement. Did Eren and Annie have a past? You lightly touch Eren’s arm in a hint of a warning, “Eren-”

The blond shakes his head, “You’re really something else, you know? Talking about another woman so brazenly in front of your girlfriend? Are you projecting your insecurity onto me since you know” he tilts his head in your direction, “[y/n] liked me first?”

You fluster immediately, jaw-dropping slightly. It was true. You did have a rather big crush on the intelligent blond boy who sat next to you in a class that bored you to sleep. But there was nothing between you two beyond a handful of platonic study dates from when you were freshmen!

Too many moving variables. He was dating Annie and not being the homewrecker type, tried to squash the interest you had. Besides, you were planning to drop that class anyways, and in a twist of fate, it was Armin who had inadvertently introduced you to Eren.

Also, how did that damn Arlert know and why was he bringing it up today of all days?!

Your boyfriend sneers, “Does that really matter when she’s with me? When she’s dating me. And. Not. You.” He punctures the last words out.

“Uhm, I’m right here-” You finally find your voice, “And I’m not really comfortable with being discussed like this.”

Armin’s eyes find yours, “Of course. Sorry [Y/n]. It’s super disrespectful of me-”

Eren cuts in with words heavier than bullets, “Shut the fuck up. Always desperate to play the white knight in shining armor aren’t you? Your duplicity makes me sick.”

As if sensing an oncoming attack, Eren pivots away from you, creating some distance.

Armin closes the gap between himself and the dark-haired boy and bunches Eren’s collar in his fist, “You don’t know how to treat people, you know that? So full of yourself that you think basic decency has an ulterior motive.”

Eren’s eyes dance with mirth, “There’s always an ulterior motive with you, isn’t there though?”. He forcefully shoves his friend, sending Armin stumbling a few steps backward, “You really like pretending you’re one of the good guys when your hands are blood-stained like the rest of us.

You can hear the blood rushing in your ear and you attempt to get in the middle of the impending conflict but Eren grabs your arm with a painful force. He growls,“Step back”. You obey.

“Don’t touch her touch like that.” Armin snarls.

“She’s my fucking girlfriend. I’ll touch her however I want. By the way, just because your little fiance is giving you a hard time doesn’t give you the right to leer at what’s mine.”

At this point you realize you come to your senses, and you leave the area quickly to get help. You scan the area around looking for Mikasa. She’s reliable and always knows what to do. You try to calm your panicked heart.

Gaining speed, you nearly fall by running into someone in the long hallway. Thankfully, the good samaritan is able to catch you in time, holding your shoulders in a firm but comforting grip.

You look up, eager to thank the man who caught you. Mullet. Tall. Slight scruff at the chin. You recognize him right away.

“Woah y/n, what are you running for?” He asks in amusement but one look at your teary eyes has him instantly concerned, “Hey, hey. Are you okay?”

“I-uh,” You’re blubbering, “Armin and Eren are acting kinda strange--I think Mikasa should calm them down.”

Jean’s eyebrows are furrowed, “Strange how? She stepped out so she’s not here right now.” You bite your lips, wondering how you were going to explain the situation.

Jean grabs your shoulder, “Hey, don’t worry. I’ll settle this. Can you take me to them?”

You nod, supremely grateful to have Jean in your corner. As you guys take a turn to the living room, you hear the excruciating sound of glass breaking. “Shit!” Jean curses.

In the middle of the living room stood Eren and Armin like centerpieces, beating the ever-living shit out of each other. You couldn’t see much beyond the fact Armin was throwing punches left and right, landing some but Eren was able to dodge most.

As you move to run forward, Jean grabs you, “No. Stop. There’s glass everywhere. You’re going to get hurt.”

You’re incredulous, “I can’t just let them hurt each other!”

Jean merely looks at you with a look of pity,

[gibbyisbatman]

Case Files

Bucky Barnes X Fem! Reader

18+

Warnings: smut, vaginal sex, dirty talk, pet names(daddy, babygirl), oral(male and female receiving), fingering, use of a condom, semi-public sex(in a work office)

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

There was a time when working as a case reviewer would have been the last idea in my mind, much less working for the Avengers at their compound. I've grown to love the job despite its sensitive and disturbing subject matter. I've also grown to see the team I work with as family and one particular super soldier as more.

Sergeant James Barnes is a soft, kind-hearted and beyond intelligent man, that has more to him than meets the eye. On the surface, he appears to be an overpowered brute, but he is far from it. He was a determined man that could do anything that he put his mind to. As he slowly got his memories back and started to learn about life and himself---I became that something.

Since the day I started working on cases at the compound, Bucky found new ways and excuses to come into my office. He claimed it was to ensure that the team put every detail of the event or battle into their paperwork. Or to ensure that I was okay after reading through the negative and often bloody imagery that was transcribed in the files. After several of his visits, I began to catch on to the gorgeous man's intentions.

On one particular day, Sergeant Barnes walked through the door and into my office with determination written all over his structured face. "We have to talk, Y/N." There was a certain harshness to his voice as he spoke, a harshness that sent a chill down my spine. "And what is it that we need to talk about, Sergeant?" I ask as I rise to my feet, mentally begging for him to have the same thoughts in mind.

Bucky swiftly closes the office door with his foot and flicks the lock seconds later. He steps closer and closer, dark eyes looking deep into my own. I lean back against the edge of my desk, waiting for a response when his knee is placed between my own. "Us. What you've been doing to me. Your longing looks and the way you strut through the halls here." He almost hissed. Swallowing deeply, I straighten up and question, "And what is that? What is it that I have done to you?" A smirk is plastered on his features as he responds, "I guess I'll just have to show you."

Before I could process anything, Bucky's plump lips were pressed hard against my own. I was shocked momentarily, but quickly reciprocated the kiss just as feverishly. My body begins to ignite with heat, feeling as if I were on fire. The man pulls away just long enough to sloppily place hot kisses down my jaw and neck, occasionally licking flat lines on the sensitive flesh. A whine escapes my lips, but I quickly cover my mouth. "James, we shouldn't be doing this. We are essentially coworkers." I run a hand down my face with a sigh. "Coworkers or not, this is something we both want. Don't deny it, Y/N." He was right, I did want this. Fuck it.

He grabs the back of my head and pulls me roughly to his lips, his free hand trailing down to the hem of my shirt before pulling roughly on the material. We break apart giving me time to yank my shirt off, tossing it to the side. I tug on his grown out hair earning a growl before his voice whispers in my ear, "You've really done it now, doll."

My breath catches in my throat and I feel my most intimate parts begin to pool with arousal at the petname. Within seconds my hands are fastened behind my back with a strap of leather after Bucky removed his shirts and belt, leaving him dressed from the waist down. "You look so pretty with your arms tied back, but you'd look even better with my cock in your mouth." I begin to salivate just thinking about the weight of his member sliding against my tongue. He guides me to my knees before unzipping his pants and releasing his hard member from the tight confines of his boxers. "Now why don't you make daddy feel good, doll. And maybe I'll help you out".

Just as the last syllable was out of his mouth I was already sucking generously on his tip, occasionally running my tongue along the already weeping slit. "Don't tease, babygirl!" I hear from above me. I look up at the man with innocent eyes through thick lashes just as I swallow down more of his cock. A groan rumbles from deep in his chest which urges me to take him to the back of my throat for a split second before pulling back to the tip. I feel his vibranium hand grip my hair before pushing my head as far as it would go, his coarse curls tickling my nose. I convulse from lack of oxygen before he pulls me back. He repeats this action a few times, using me for his pleasure.

Before he could cum, he pulls me up and strips me from my pants. He pauses for a moment and removes my restraints and all but rips off my bra and panties, leaving me bare for him. His smirk appears once more, "Mm. Now that's better." He immediately engulfs my left nipple in his mouth; sucking, swirling and nipping at it as he pinches and twists the one on my right. I moan and arch my back, grabbing his head and pushing it further into my chest. I feel him groan at my eagerness. He switches off, fondling my left breast while he attacks the right with the skill of his warm mouth. 

He moves further down, nipping my skin along the way all while drawing soft pants from my lips. Bucky's mouth soon hovers over my mound, his hot breath driving me even crazier than before. "You've been such a good girl and look at you soaked all for me. I'll reward you, just tell daddy what you want." He purrs, his voice dripping with arousal. "You. I want you; your fingers, your mouth, your cock." With a beaming grin, Bucky dives into my dripping heat. I moan loudly, throwing my head back. His tongue drags across my slit fully, circling my clit for good measure before sucking harshly on the swollen nub. I choke out his name, my hands weaving through his fluffy hair.

Bucky pushes two of his metal digits into me while flicking his tongue against my throbbing clit. He pumped them in and out at a steady pace, occasionally rubbing against my g-spot as my hips buck in tune with his thrusts. My body feels like it’s on fire and begins to tense. "James, I'm c-close! Oh fuck", l almost scream out. "Come for me, baby girl!" Without a second thought, my vision goes blurry and I feel an immense amount of pleasure rush through my entire body. Bucky continues to pump his fingers allowing me to ride out the rest of my orgasm before he cleans me of my juices. "You are so pretty when you cum. Let's see if we can make that happen again!" 

I pull him back up to me to kiss him roughly, tasting my cum on his lips and tongue with a filthy groan. Bucky quickly rolls a condom onto his still hard member. The large man leads us both down to the floor, allowing me to run my hands up and down his chest. I grind against him to tease him, but he quickly gets fed up with the antics. His strong hands grip my hips hard enough to leave bruises and gives me a daring look.

Deciding not to tease anymore, one of my hands slips between our bodies to align him so I could sink down on his cock. We stay still for a few moments-- for me to adjust to his size and for him to adjust to the tight warmth wrapped around him. My hips begin to rock again him, almost as if they were moving of their own volition. Both of us sigh with pleasure, but it's clear we both need more. Feeling confident enough I slide up and down, making sure to rock forward a bit. I was already a moaning mess, chanting Bucky's name. He was below me, matching my energy, while snapping his hips upwards in time with my thrusts.

My walls were starting to clench and Bucky sensed it. He flipped us over with great speed and pinned my hands above me with one of his large hands. The other toyed with my clit as he continued to thrust hard and fast, bringing me closer and closer to cumming. I could feel his thrusts getting sloppier signaling he was close too. Bucky circled my clit so fast that I didn't have time to warn him before I was cumming all over his cock. He buried himself in my pussy as far as he could go with a few final thrusts before he shot spurts of his cum into the condom.

We lay there breathless and tired for a few moments before silently separating to put our clothes back on. "I've wanted to do that since you started working here, Y/N." Bucky said, back to his slightly shy self. I smiled with a deep blush on my face. "I've wanted that too, James!"

[moontheoretist]

At Tony's previous comment, the Spiderling just shakes his head, clearly bashful. "Well, I might be a little better at school than most people but that's only because I have already read through all the textbooks for this year and senior year and some of the college books for that one Materials Science course when I was trying to figure out my netting, oh and that one course on Physical Chemistry at Northwestern was really interesting and I only found the lectures online by accident and that was so interesting and the professor is a Nobel Price winner, how cool is that?!" The enthusiasm is definitely back at full force. Tony is getting the feeling that it would take quite a bit of effort to bring down the Spiderling's mood for any amount of time. And as the kid babbles on about the college courses he has stumbled across - clearly having forgotten that he is supposedly trying to tell Tony how he isn't a genius - Tony resolves to do his best to protect this pure hearted enthusiasm for all things life and learning as best he can. Because Tony remembers that time of his own life. Remembers what it was like to be interested in everything, to want to learn everything in every single field of study, when everything seemed fascinating. When he had not yet picked a particular field to focus on. And he also remembers how frustrating it had been to always have to slow down for everyone around him simply because no one could understand his babbling and lightning quick changes of topic. Remembers how offended his professors had gotten when he started meshing discoveries and principles from separate fields, completely irreverent of 'established' practices. When he debunked theories in chemistry by applying established principles of quantum mechanics. Or used complex decade-old mathematics from some unknown Russian guy to tear apart supposed revolutionary discoveries in physics. Thinking outside the box is a state of being for Tony and he has always loved combining different fields to come up with entirely new things to learn. It was the reason why he had finally decided to focus primarily on one of the more interdisciplinary fields, electrical engineering. But these days, people tend to only remember Tony's accomplishments in engineering and programming. They like to ignore that he not only holds three PhDs but also a truly absurd number of Master degrees in completely unrelated fields. And that's without even mentioning all the subjects he has simply read up on in the years after. Tony is constantly educating himself about new things, things he wants to know, to learn, to study. People don't like to hear him so much allude to his genius but Tony doesn't get into entirely new fields of study because he wants to show up others, but simply because he needs to gather new knowledge. Constantly. He would die of boredom if he had nothing to keep his brain busy with. But it still took him years to realize that most people didn't in fact enjoy being shown up by a fresh-faced kid who had surpassed them in their chosen field within 24 hours of deciding to start reading up on it. And his unconventional approach of mixing sciences had especially not gained him any favors at MIT, because people who consider themselves smart apparently get quite offended when someone clearly smarter comes along. And by the time any of them could finally bring themselves to actually have a real scientific debate with Tony, he more often than not had long since left their particular field behind, having already switched to an entirely unrelated area of interest. Only to repeat the process. It had driven every single science-minded person at MIT who came in contact with him insane. Tony had probably been the most disliked person in MIT's history. That isn't to say that his fellow students and the professors hadn't used Tony's revelations in order to further their own standing in the scientific community. Of course without ever mentioning where their oh-so-revolutionary ideas had come from. His enthusiasm for all things science had blinded him to the fact that not everyone thought the entire goal was to learn, that humans - and even scientists - are truly selfish at heart. Tony had started hating college then. To be constantly put down by the people around him, only to find out later that they had then used his ideas to get published in scientific journals, taking all credit and not giving Tony the opportunity to join them in arguing their - or rather his - case with others. He had learned quickly to either keep his ideas to himself or to immediately smack a patent on it or to get it published before anyone else could. Once he started churning out scientific publications, Tony had suddenly and completely 'coincidentally' become very popular with his fellow scientists. Their sudden 'change of heart' had only made Tony despise them even more. But thankfully, that was also the time of his life when he had met his Rhodey bear. Rhodey who was more than willing to listen to Tony talk, who tried to keep up with him but didn't get offended when he couldn't. Who was interested in Tony's babbling and even in Tony himself. Rhodey who had made everything better. It had been an incredible release to finally have someone he could talk to and talk at. About his private life, his courses, his professors, his own inventions and discoveries and ideas. Yeah, he more than gets the Spiderling's enthusiasm right now.

To intervene by apathyinreverie

[mggpleasedontlookhere]

helping heart

request: hi so i have chronic migraines, which means at least once a month (sometimes more) i get a migraine that is so bad that my vision is blurred and sometimes i even puke. and so i just got over one and i was wondering if you could write a mgg fic where he helps the reader through one? cause that would be great :) thank you!!

word count: 1,607                                                                                     reading time aprox: 6 mins

masterlist

My brain pulsated at an inhuman rate, thumping against the walls of my skull. Waves of agony spasmed throughout my head, reverberating through the soft muscle that resided in it. I forcibly shut my eyes, shielding them from any source of light, despite me already cornered in a dark room. 

I sat in Matthew’s trailer waiting for him to finish a few of his scenes. But what I didn’t know was that I would have to push through an oncoming migraine alone. I shuddered in the white fluffy blanket that was wrapped around me, it smelled of pumpkin spice and Matthew’s worn out cologne. A buzz coming from the fridge invaded my sensitive ears, making the entire experience more intolerable. 

I feebly pulled the covers over my head, drowning myself in my own darkness. An inaudible whimper escaped my lips, a reflex from the oscillating intensity of my migraine. I curled up in the fetal position, feeling my stomach begin to cramp up. I felt the bile begin to build up like plaque in the back of my esophagus, threatening to spill over any moment. 

Suddenly the door opened, letting light protrude from the outside. Matthew’s soothing voice met my ears, amused at the high pitched voice cracks in between his words. Despite my relief at his presence, my body continued to throb at an agonizing rhythm. 

“Okay thanks again BJ- no, yeah I’ll- I’ll see you in a few, bye” He laughed, sending chills down my spine from the volume at which he spoke. Usually I would have no problem with the gregarious ferocity of his voice, but my circumstances limited me to a shrill feeling in my eardrums. “Huh...why is this-” He flipped on the light switch, eliciting a groan from me. 

“Matthew can you turn that back off please?” I meekly requested, shutting my eyes tighter than they already were. I flipped around on my stomach, stuffing my face into the pillow under me. 

“Hey baby- migraines again?” He asked, shuffling closer to where I was after he had dimmed the lights. “Do you need anything?” He asked, kneeling down beside me; his voice came out like a whisper: soft and pacified. 

A muffled ‘no’ slipped passed my lips while the cushions I laid on sunk, indicating that Matthew had sat himself at my feet. He ran his fingers up and down the side of my ankle in a tender manner, humming a calming melody in the process. 

“How was filming?” I croaked, feeling the muscles in my throat tense up at the utterance of my words while I turned around to face him.. My voice was raspy with phlegm from not speaking all day, earning a concerned look from Matthew. 

“It was pretty okay. I have a few more scenes to shoot and I’m done for the day” He declared, reaching his arms out to invite me into his embrace. I gracefully accepted his offer, fitting perfectly into the vast space of his arms. I breathed in his scent, basking in the instant gratification I received from the warmth that embodied him.

“What else did you do today?” I wrapped my arms around his waist, looking up at him from below his shoulder. My head rested perfectly against his chest as I inquired about his daily adventures. 

“I got brunch with AJ, bothered Aubrey [Plaza] a little bit, and antagonized a toddler. You know all the normal things” He confessed, earning a stifled laugh from me. 

“Sounds like your day was eventful” I replied, nuzzling my head into his blazer. I felt the cotton fibers brush against my cheeks, sending a tickling sensation down my nose. He placed a longing kiss to the top of my head, using his hand to brush away the tangled hair that had accumulated when I was resting. 

“Yeah it was…” He whispered, muffling his voice in my hair. “But it would’ve been better with you” He sweetly confessed, placing a finger under my chin to pull me into a chaste kiss. “See...already much better” He joked after he pulled away. 

A faint blush made its way to the apples of my cheeks, shaking my head in wonder at how this man still made me feel nervous after two years of putting up with him. My fingertips hovered over the crevice of his neck, feeling the individual spikes of stubble graze my skin. 

“Are you sure you don’t need anything?” He asked once again, caressing my cheek with his thumb. 

Before I could nod and reassure him, a wave of nausea washed over me causing the contents in my stomach to be regurgitated. I pushed myself off of Matthew forcefully, sprinting to the small bathroom in his trailer. I struggled to pull my hair out of my face as my stomach acid burned the layering skin of my throat. I choked and wheezed, feeling my body weaken at the sudden expulsion of liquid. I hadn’t even realized that Matthew stood behind me propping my hair up into a ponytail until he had laid a consoling hand on the small of my back. 

I groaned in pain, tears trailing down my cheeks as I shut down entirely. I prayed for the ache to stop, hoping that my migraine would end up in the toilet just as my lunch did. Saliva dripped down my chin, making the scene an unattractive mess. Matthew handed me a paper towel afterwards, letting me clean myself off while he waited by the door. 

Once I finished, I opened the door with an embarrassed grimace. My eyes were still sunken and grim because of all the crying that I did, my cheeks flushed alongside it. I whimpered, falling into Matthew’s arms while he whispered positive affirmations. 

“Let me take care of you bubs” He declared, swooping me up bridal style and carrying me to the bed in the back of his trailer. He set me down, bringing a few fluffy blankets to adjust my comfort. He kissed my forehead before leaving the small room to fetch something. 

I trailed my hands along the soft sheets of his bed, letting each fiber in my body focus on the warmth that the covers provided me rather than the discomfort that flooded my body. I was still dizzy from my trip to the bathroom, my vision a bit too wonky and disoriented for my liking. 

With the sound of shuffling feet, Matthew made his way back to the bedroom with a hot cup of tea and a heated eye mask. “I thought this would help alleviate the pain a little bit” He smiled sheepishly, causing my heart to inflate at the small sentiment. 

I kissed his cheek as a sign of gratitude, immediately grabbing the heated eye mask out of his hands. He laughed at my haste, sitting down next to me at the edge of the bed. 

“Is there anything else you need?” 

“I have all that I need here” I professed, leaning my head against his hip. “Come cuddle” I demanded, making grabby hands at him. He playfully groaned in response, curling up next to me as he pulled me to his chest. He peppered kisses on the top of my head, exhaling in reprieve as he finally was able to share a moment with the woman he loved. 

“You know what Y/N?” 

“What is it?” I beckoned, my mouth muffled in his shirt. 

“At least you weren’t throwing up because you’re pregnant” He teased, pushing a few stray hairs off my forehead. 

“Is that something you’re interested in? Getting pregnant?” I implied, nudging him jokingly. His throat vibrated against my head while he laughed, a few straggled coughs escaping his lips at my suggestion. 

Silence engulfed the room, leaving the both of us in each other's arms. The feeling of security I felt in Matthew’s arms was inexplicable, reveling in the fact that I was able to be beside this man. Love radiated from the both of us as we were grateful for each other's company.  

“I wouldn’t mind” He spoke up, breaking the comfortable silence. I hummed against his chest in confusion, looking up at him to proceed. “I wouldn’t mind if we had a little kid to have around” He confessed, pressing his lips on my forehead. 

“Weren’t you just yelling at a toddler before you got in here” I quipped. 

“To be completely fair, I think the guy was sent in to replace me on the show” He laughed. 

“Well if that was ever the case, then you’d have more time to spend if we ever had a little one to take care of” I replied, diverting the conversation back to the subject we were tip-toeing around earlier. 

“That would be really nice” He cherished the idea while I pictured a world where Matthew was a dad and where I was lucky enough to start a life with him. 

“I’m so lucky to have you Y/N” 

“Well I’m even luckier to have someone take care of me even if I almost got puke all over their wardrobe” I teased, nuzzling into him further. “But I love you so much goobs” 

“Did you just call me goob-” 

“Shut up, I literally professed my love to you and all you do is complain?” 

He chuckled, pulling me in closer to him, wrapping the covers around the both of us, creating a perfect environment for slumber. Both of our breathing steadied, letting the heaviness of our eyes take control. With the last few conscious huffs of air, Matthew whispered a few words that explained all that he felt. 

“I love you even more” 

-

taglist: @rexorangecouny​ @howdycharlie​ @linthebinbag​ @honeymilk-4​

cute lil fluffy one since i’ve been so angsty

[teawaffles]

There’s No Business Like Show Business: Chapter 2

The next day.

After finishing his work at the mansion, Bond headed to Whitechapel’s Leman Street, where Maya and her company normally held their rehearsals. [1]

Walking down the noisy street was not just Bond, but also three other employees of the Moriarty household. One of them was Fred Porlock.

“It would’ve been fine if only you came along, Fred…… But thanks for joining us anyway, you two.”

Bond directed that to Jack Renfield and Sebastian Moran, who were walking a little behind him.

As Fred was a master of disguise, Bond had asked him to contribute his opinion on the performance too when Jack and Moran decided to tag along. Now the four of them were on their way to the rehearsal — with Louis’ permission of course.

Jack roared with laughter.

“No, you don’t have to thank me. I’ve watched my fair share of theatre, so I thought I could help them out, even if it’s from an amateur’s perspective,” said the old butler, nodding as he reminisced about those good old days.

“You’re probably just after the young girls from the theatre company, aren’t you old man?” Moran said, half in disgust. “Bond said this Maya chairwoman is a dashing lady in her own right, so I came along to feast my eyes on—— Ow, that hurt!”

Jack had clapped Moran on the head, as a warning to not shoot his mouth off.

“The only one here chasing women is you. Really, you didn’t even finish your chores properly before coming here.”

“I did my part just fine. For once, I’m not skipping out on work.”

“Rubbish — I did a check before we left and found some cigarette butts in the hallway. Don’t you dare annoy Louis any further.”

“……W-Well, the more the merrier, right?”

“…………”

Listening to their usual argument at the back of the group, Bond smiled wryly, while Fred was silent.

Finally, they had reached their destination. Waiting in front of the theatre was Maya, and her little sister Mae.

“Mister Bond!”

“Hey, haven’t seen you since yesterday.”

Mae waved her arms up and down in excitement, while Bond greeted them with a smile.

“S—sorry. Normally, she would play with the other children near our place, but today she insisted on coming with me…… By the way, um, who might these, d—dignified gentlemen be?”

“Ah, they work at the same household as me. The short one here is Fred. The somewhat scary-looking one is Moran. And this dandy old gentleman is Mr Jack. If you’re alright with it, I thought you could use their input as well.”

As Bond introduced them, the three men also greeted their host. But Maya seemed a little perplexed.

“……Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to come here in a big group,” Bond admitted, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“No, no.” Maya hurriedly waved her hands. “I—I’m really grateful to be able to, hear valuable feedback from, so many people. For now, let’s not stand here to talk, please come in……”

Maya guided them into the theatre, stooped in a self-abasing posture. Her faltering voice was much as the same as from their previous encounter, but today, nerves seemed to have crept in as well.

“She has a sort of shadow about her, but that has its own charm. Like the transient beauty of a young widow, don’t you think?”

“She’s pretty, for sure, but not really my type. More like the kind of woman who complicates things when you break up with her.”

“Um, sorry you two, but if you could just keep your voices down,” chided Bond, as Jack and Moran whispered about the chairwoman behind her back.

Right after the entrance was a cramped space. The box seats above them looked hastily constructed; in truth, the interior decorations made it seem more appropriate to call this place a playhouse, rather than a proper theatre.

But their guide had only praise. “The manager here is, a really nice person; whenever we say we want to practise, he’s always happy to lend it to us. There are performances held at night, so we can only use it during the day.”

“He trusts you, doesn’t he.”

Hearing her speak with such sincere gratitude, Bond was quietly impressed by her character. Perhaps her dark aura easily invited misunderstanding, but she was definitely genuine at heart.

“Speaking of which, Miss Maya, you said that you’re the director for this performance, but surely someone else is responsible for the sets and the arrangements at the other theatre during this time?”

“Another member is in charge of the sets, but the negotiations and the like, w—were handled by me. Even so, the manager of the larger theatre — a nobleman — had actually approached us to be the opening act for another company, and I just accepted his invitation.”

“Still, isn’t it great to be invited to perform on a bigger stage, even if it’s just as an opening act?”

“Yes; for people like us — a theatre company from the slums, we don’t have many chances to show the world what we can do, so everyone’s doing their very best.”

Saying that, Maya secretly clenched her fists. Surely the one working the hardest was none other than Maya herself.

There was no audience in the stalls, and on the stage were a number of men and women — likely the company members themselves — doing light warm-ups and vocal exercises. A few of the children he’d met yesterday were also frolicking about on stage.

One exceptionally tall man on the stage had noticed Bond and the others enter the hall, and spoke up.

“Oh, is that the rumoured theatre master?”

Moran whistled at this unusually grand title.

“Theatre master, eh. A fitting name considering your experience, Bond.”

“Fufu, I’m honoured.”

Bond accepted it with his innate courage and composure. Then, he went onto the stage with Maya, while the other three sat in the stalls at the far end, so as to not stand out and interfere with the rehearsal.

The company members each stopped what they were doing and lined up in wait.

“Everyone, this is Mr Bond, who will be watching our performance today,” introduced Maya.

Right then and there, her voice had become clearer and stronger. A little taken aback by the sudden change in her attitude, Bond took a quick look around the room.

“Hello to you all. I’m looking forward to what you have for me today,” he said solemnly, as he bowed.

“We’ll do our best!” The company members bowed their heads in unison.

From their greeting, Bond could feel the the quality of their bearing, and the strength of their cohesion. Not only that, the tension he himself once felt when he stood on stage came rushing back in waves.

He switched his frame of mind from that of a special agent, to that of an actor, and looked over Maya and her company with an earnest gaze.

“Well then, without further ado, please show me what you’ve got.”

“Yes!”

Even though his instructions had been given with no introductory remarks, they asked no unnecessary questions, and jumped straight into preparation. Even though they had only put up plays in cheap theatres, Maya’s company already displayed the high level of professionalism they had developed.

“Miss Maya, what’s the programme for today?” Bond asked, as he moved to the row of seats right in front of the stage.

Maya was also directing Mae and the other children to sit down. “We’re starting with ‘The Red Shoes’, followed by ‘The Little Mermaid’, and lastly, ‘The Little Match Girl’.”

“Hmm, fairytales, I see.”

The unexpected subject matter piqued his interest.

In a time when Shakespeare was all the rage, to perform children’s literature in a proper theatre, and a serious scripted play at that — now this was a bold move.

But as someone who liked to do things unconventionally, that was precisely why their play intrigued Bond. Yesterday’s playful rendition of “The Little Match Girl” was probably inspired by it as well.

Then, the tall man who noticed Bond earlier spoke up.

“Ain’t it interesting? Maya always makes sure to write plays that even us poor dumb folk understand. Today’s script is also entirely her work,” he said cheerfully.

“Weren’t you in charge of creating the play too? You should be able to write at least one decent line of dialogue.”

At the man’s self-satisfied tone, a woman beside him sighed. But he ignored her pointed comment and carried on.

“There were a bunch of people who’d always thought ‘Hamlet’ and ‘Macbeth’ and the like were plain boring; but after Maya broke them down into something easier to follow, they’ve gotten hooked onto Shakespeare.”

“Being able to interpret works in a way that everyone can understand…… A wonderful talent indeed.”

But if you were to put on a proper production of Shakespeare in an unregulated theatre like this, you would be caught by the censors. To avoid that, incorporating music and the like into their productions was a brilliant adaptation on their part.

Bond had said that last part out loud, and the man thanked him for his words of praise. The members of the company had shown their admiration for Maya, but the woman herself took in a deep breath, as if to hide her embarrassment.

In other words, in order to put on a play that everyone could follow, the answer she'd arrived at was “fairytales”. Although it may be the best choice given the short length of the opening act……

“I’m sitting next to Mister Bond!”

“Hey, no fair!”

Bond had been absorbed in thought about the contents of the play. Nearby, the children were scrambling for the best spots. Having won the seat to the left of Bond, Mae asked him a question.

“Mister Bond, do you like ‘fairy tales’?”

That pulled him out of his thought process for a moment, and Mae smiled.

“Yeah. I read them when I was a child.”

“I like them too, because Maya and the rest always read them in a fun way—”

“Me too!” The other children raised their hands and shouted. Reading stories aloud while acting out the roles was indeed a theatrical way of reading to children.

However, Mae immediately pouted in frustration.

“But I really hate that story.”

“……Why is that?”

“The little girl always looks so sad. I tried asking Maya to give it a happy ending, but she just said that we have to ‘respect the intent of the story’ and didn’t listen.”

Her words helped Bond discern the true nature of the incongruity he'd felt.

As Mae had said, all three stories had their protagonists fall into unfortunate circumstances and perish. It was true that many fairytales were cruel, but there were others with happy endings too. Was there some hidden intent behind these choices?

As Bond pondered the new question that surfaced in his mind, Mae leaned in towards him.

“Mister Bond, do you also think it’s important, what Maya said? No matter how sad a story is, can’t we make it happy on our own?”

She asked that question with clear eyes. Bond thought for a few seconds, before responding.

“It’s true that it’s important to understand the intention of the original story. If you change its contents haphazardly, the fans of the story would be upset. I think your sister is the type who would take that very seriously.”

Mae glanced down in disappointment at his level-headed answer, but Bond continued.

“However, if we were all afraid of criticism, then nothing new would ever be made. If you have something you really want to tell others, then I think it’s possible to add a new interpretation to a story. After all, one form of respect is to show the world how you would’ve done it.”

“……Oh I see!”

Mae brightened up, and Bond smiled. Her question was one that had always, and would continue to vex all interpreters of stories. But at the very least, he didn’t want to make a decision on which way was right.

Just as their conversation had come to an end, it seemed the preparations for the performance were now complete.

“Without further ado, let us begin.”

Standing on a platform, Maya gave a bow, and with that the curtain rose.

Footnotes:

[1] Leman Street is a little to the north-east of the Tower of London and St. Katharine Docks, and within walking distance of both.

T/N: Is this chapter some meta-level commentary on the series itself?! omg

[phoebenavarro]

and on you stumble on (ch 1)

part 6 of my Jon trusting Tim s2 AU, we’ve reached the end of season 2! woo let’s go

the magnus archives, established JonTim, pre JonMarTim, 1642 words

read this part and the rest of the series on ao3 here

Jon sits, frozen, as his mind struggles to process everything. He told Tim what Melanie said about Sasha, the two Sashas, but he’d kept the rest of his little investigation to himself. It wasn’t fair to Tim, but Sasha is a delicate subject for him, and Jon wanted to be sure. And maybe, as long as he kept it to himself, it wouldn’t be real. Sasha wouldn’t have been replaced by a monster that looks nothing like her, the real her. But the time for that willful denial is over now; he knows the truth, much as he wishes he could change it. Sasha’s dead, and she has been since Prentiss.

Tim. He has to tell Tim. He deserves to know, and he deserves to help kill it.

Especially after the tapes. The tapes with the real Sasha’s voice on them. He presses play on the recorder with a shaking hand, and the voice he still can’t recognize as Sasha’s crackles through the speakers. He sits there and listens and hates himself for not figuring it out sooner. That thing hasn’t even been trying to be like Sasha, the real Sasha, and he still didn’t realize that his friend had been replaced by a monster.

He’s listening to the tape—her statement about her encounter with Michael—for a third time when the door to his office opens.

“Alright boss, you about ready to go?” Tim asks cheerfully, striding in, but he freezes when he sees the distressed look on Jon’s face. “Jon. What’s wrong?”

“I, um…” Jon says, at a loss for words.

“What happened? Did Michael come back?”

“What? No, no…” Jon sighs and rubs his eyes. He’s so tired. “No, it— it’s not that. I suppose it’s easier if I show you.” He gestures Tim over to his desk. “Do you remember what Melanie King said, about there being two Sashas?” Tim nods slowly.

“Yeah, what— did you figure out what’s going on?”

Jon sighs again. “Yes. Tim… I’m sorry.” He hands Tim the paper copies of the statements. Tim frowns, but he doesn’t say anything, he just starts reading. Jon tries not to stare at him while he reads, heartbroken for him and a little bit terrified for how he’s going to react. Jon’s own grief for Sasha hasn’t hit him yet, he’s too preoccupied with thinking about what they’re going to do now. He’s got a plan forming, but that will entirely depend on what Tim wants to do.

Tim sets the papers down and rubs his eyes. “Fuck,” he swears quietly. “That’s it, then. She’s dead,” his voice is disturbingly flat, and Jon aches to reach out to him, to comfort his boyfriend, but Jon’s never seen him like this.

“I’m sorry,” Jon says, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

“When did it happen?” Tim asks.

“I uh… It seems like it was during the Prentiss attack, when she got separated from Elias and ran into Artifact Storage.” Tim breathes in sharply and swears again under his breath.

“She hated Artifact Storage,” Tim says quietly.

“I know.”

“Or are our memories of her even real? If this thing could replace her and change what she looked like in our minds, why couldn’t it completely change everything?”

“I… I don’t know,” Jon admits, “It’s certainly possible, but we can’t— we can’t start questioning every little memory. I think that’s what it wants, what it feeds on, and besides, it’s just not feasible.”

“Yeah,” Tim says quietly. Jon reaches for his hand, trying to find some way to comfort Tim, to make this news a little more bearable. Tim lets him.

“I think our memories are our own,” Jon continues, “I mean, we both remember her being different before the Prentiss attack. She… changed. We both noticed. We didn’t know why she changed, but we definitely noticed.”

Tim nods, but he doesn’t say anything, so Jon just launches into the next thing he needs to tell Tim about.

“I-I found the missing tapes,” Jon says, and he chuckles bitterly, “They were in Sasha’s desk. Not even well hidden, almost like it wanted us to find them. Finally figured out what those tapes had in common, they all had Sasha— the real Sasha’s voice on them.

Tim cocks his head. “How do you mean? I thought the monster changed pictures and recordings too.”

“Yes, but not polaroid photos, for some reason, and apparently not tape recordings.”

Tim’s breath hitches. “So, what’s on the tapes— that’s real?” Jon nods.

Tim swallows. “Can I— Can I listen to them?” he asks, and Jon’s chest feels tight.

“Y-yes, of course,” Jon says, and he starts rewinding the tape with Sasha’s statement. “I-I don’t think you want to listen to all of them, a-at least not right now, one of them is from the Prentiss attack, when it h-happened.”

“I need to know what happened, Jon,” Tim says, “I need to know how, if it was painful, if she…” Tim trails off. Jon thinks about Sasha’s scream, and he shudders.

“It was awful. I wish I hadn’t heard it. And- And I don’t think there’s much point to you listening to it if you’re just going to use it to punish yourself for not doing anything about it.” Tim glares at him, but Jon keeps his voice steady. “I know you, and I know you’re gonna blame yourself, but it wasn’t your fault.”

Tim mutters, “Yeah, right,” and he turns his head to stare at the floor.

The tape finishes rewinding, and Jon presses play without another word. They listen in silence as the Sasha on the tape tells her story, Tim gripping Jon’s hand so hard that it hurts. Jon can’t help but be hyper focused on every one of Tim’s reactions, every sharp intake of breath, every sigh, every small exhale of laughter. Jon remembers Sasha being funny, and it seems like she was. Jon notices a few tears on Tim’s face, and he pulls Tim close to put an arm around him.

When it ends, Tim wipes his eyes with his free hand.

“I still can’t believe she did something that reckless,” he says, “She was always going on about being the rational one.” Jon smiles. He moves to switch the tape out for the one where Sasha interrupted him to talk about the proper way to pronounce calliope, and he fast forwards to around the point where she walked in. Tim listens just as intently, like he’s trying to catalogue every little thing he can gleam about the real Sasha from these tapes. Then the Jon on the tape resumes reading his statement, and they let it play out in the quiet of the office.

Eventually, the tape ends, and Jon stops it. Jon looks to Tim expectantly, but Tim is staring at the wall with a far-away look in his eyes.

“What are we going to do about that- that thing pretending to be Sasha?” Tim asks, finally breaking the silence.

“Ah,” Jon says, “I’ve been thinking about that. It’s tied to the table, so it seems like destroying the table will kill it, or at least weaken it.”

Tim nods slowly. “Makes as much sense as anything else around here.” He runs a hand through his hair. “When?”

“Tonight? After everyone’s gone home, artifact storage will be empty.”

Absently, Tim presses a kiss to Jon’s hand. “I’m not letting this go, by the way. I want to listen to all of those tapes. But… Maybe you’re right. Maybe now isn’t the best time.”

“That’s reasonable, I suppose,” Jon replies.

Tim stares off into space again for a few minutes, clearly thinking, before he speaks again.

“Should we tell Martin? In case something happens?”

“No,” Jon says immediately, and he can’t ignore the panic that rises in his chest when he thinks about getting Martin involved in this, “No, he’ll insist on staying to help and I won’t put him in any more danger.”

Thankfully, Tim agrees. “Yeah,” he says, “He’ll be pissed when he finds out, though.”

Jon thinks back to the stern lecture Martin had given them on trust, on treating him like an adult, and when he thinks about how Martin is going to react when he finds out, he does feel guilty. Just this, he thinks, This is the last thing we’ll keep him in the dark about.

“We can deal with Martin being angry at us, if we live, but I can’t lose anyone else. It’s my job to protect you all, and I’ve already failed Sasha…”

“Hey, no—“

Jon cuts him off, “I know it wasn’t my fault, what happened to Sasha, wasn’t anyone’s fault, really, but I should have been able to protect her. And Tim, if I could, I’d send you home too, deal with this on my own.”

“Jon…”

“I know you won’t go, you’re too stubborn, and I won’t make you, because I know this is just as important to you. But I’d rather you be safe.”

“How do you think I feel?” Tim says, “That’s two of the most important people in my life, dead, and I did nothing to stop it.” Jon opens his mouth to protest, but Tim plows on, "I don’t want you to be number three, and it seems like, as Archivist, you’ve got a target painted on your back. I also know that you’re too damn stubborn not to put yourself in danger, and well, we’ve got a better chance of not dying if we do it together.”

“I certainly hope so,” Jon agrees, “Have I mentioned recently how much I love you?”

“Once or twice,” Tim replies, “I love you too. Now how exactly are we going to go about killing this thing?”

“Did you know, it is remarkably easy to buy an axe in central London?”

Tim smiles.

[captainrexforever]

Trials and Tribulations 2/2

Rating: T

Word count: ~6k

Summary: The reader discovers that she has formed a force bond with her Mandalorian companion. This has some unforeseen complications during the events at the Imperial refinery on Morak.

Warnings: angst, fluff, canon typical violence, more Dad! Fett, awkward! Din, use of in-universe curse words

Note: Part 2 at last! There are quite a few pov. changes, so I hope that they don’t interrupt the flow of the story too much. Happy reading, and I hope you enjoy! 

Pt. 1

After settling into the cockpit alongside Fett, the only thing you can do is wait for Fennec’s signal, but that doesn’t mean you have to be bored. 

“Is it too much to ask for a tour of the flight controls?” 

“I’m surprised it took you this long to ask.” He speaks honestly. 

You can only chuckle in response and shrug. “What can I say, I’m not used to holding a conversation with my crewmate.”

“I take it Mando doesn’t talk much.” 

His eyes search your face, and although you attempt to hold his gaze, your eyes fall to the floor as you answer. “No, he doesn’t.”

Fett only nods in response, and you have a sudden urge to change the subject. “So, I noticed that you wear your helmet while flying, even though all the screens are displayed on the console.”

He must note the change in topic, but he doesn’t bring it up. “Yes, I tied all the tracking technology into the visor of my helmet. That way if I have to aim at something while in flight, I can observe it through the viewport and follow the object with my eyes, as if aiming a real blaster.”

“Woah, that’s really cool.”

“Indeed. It’s an idea my father often shared with me, although he didn’t get the chance to implement the changes. I was finally able to make the alterations myself.” There’s a little bit of nostalgia in his voice, and you wonder if you should feel bad for bringing up a potentially sensitive topic. “Perhaps I can let you try it on the retrieval run.” Boba continues. 

“Oh, no, no, no, maybe later, thank you. I don’t want to jeopardize the mission with my novice flying skills.”

“Is that so? You project the aura of a competent pilot.”

“Yes, but it’s been a while since I’ve sat behind the controls of a ship.”

Fett raises a hand to his chin, as if stroking a non-existent beard. “So you didn’t fly Mando’s ship?” It’s definitely a question, but it comes off more like a statement. 

“Well, I...I usually left that to Mando, I felt like it was almost a form of relaxation for him and I didn’t want to take that away.”

“Can I give you some advice?” 

That throws you off a little. 

“Sure.”

“A Mandalorian’s ship is a precious possession, not as important to them as beskar or their code, but still. A ship represents a Mandalorian’s freedom and individuality. If you were allowed to live within that ship for what I estimate to be several months, there was something else going on.”

It feels like someone lodged their fist into your chest and squeezed all the air out of your lungs. Surely he couldn’t mean...“What, what do you mean? Are you saying he was desperate for help no matter the cost?”

Fett wants to bang his head on the console, then bang it against your head to knock some sense into you. No wonder you and the Mandalorian get along so well, you’re both absolutely clueless. 

“Do you know that he carried you up the ramp of this ship last week when you were on death’s door, demanding medical attention from me?” Your eyes widen in response. “When we eventually realized you were losing too much blood, his first instinct was to infiltrate a medical station to obtain the necessary blood samples for a transfusion. Lucky for him, I had some sequencing instruments aboard, and we were able to identify your blood type. By some miracle, you and he happen to possess the same blood.” The atmosphere is becoming more tense by the second, and you can only sit there as Fett recounts the events surrounding your recent injuries. “He stayed by your side during the entire two day flight to Nevarro, refusing to eat or sleep. With the amount of time he spent providing blood to the transfusion system, I was sure he would pass out from blood loss before we arrived.” A choked sound leaves your throat. “The second we landed, he was on his feet, clutching onto your body as he carried you to the Marshal’s office.” 

He lets his words sink in for a moment as he pins you underneath his gaze once again. “I have fought countless battles, lost many comrades, and seen fellow warriors suffer horrible injuries. But I have never seen a man so stricken with grief and despair at the thought of losing a fellow comrade-in-arms. It’s obvious you mean much more to him than either of you realize.” 

He notices that you’re in shock after taking in all of that information, and he opens his mouth to say one last thing. “If you want to take a seat in the hold and let yourself process all of that, I’ll let you know when I receive the cue to take off.” 

The sentence is uttered with kindness, and you can only nod, thankful for his understanding. In a second you’re slipping down the ladder to the main hold of the ship. 

Kriff. 

Tears bite at the corners of your eyes as you suppress a sniffle with your forearm. That damned Mandalorian has been holding out on you. It all makes sense now. The affection you sensed earlier, the brief moments where you often notice his gaze linger for a millisecond too long. He cares about you. The thought has you releasing a muffled sob into your palms, why has he never told you? You would have welcomed his affection and returned it a thousand fold, if he had ever offered you the chance. 

A spike of fear races up your spine suddenly, and you tense in response. There is a familiar tickling sensation in the back of your mind, and you realize that Din is unintentionally projecting on you. After what happened earlier, you’re sure that you are the last person he wants to communicate with. His fear washes over you again, this time accompanied by panic, and you know that something has gone terribly wrong. Feelings be damned, you need to know what is going on down there. A firm nudge against his thought process grants your mind access to his, and the singular pulsing thought that envelops your brain gives you an immediate headache. 

“This is for the kid. The kid needs me, I can do this for him. I can do this for the kid.”

“Din, what’s going on?”

“You need to leave right now.”

“Din, what’s going on, let me help.”

There is no response. You’re so frustrated right now that you want to punch him, and you must be projecting because he allows you to see one more thought. 

You gasp in disbelief and shock. 

“Din...no. You can’t take your helmet off.”

“This is for the kid, Y/n. There is no other way.”

“Your creed, your way. What will you do after you take it off?”

“I...I don’t know. This is the only way I can save him.”

A tear rolls down your cheek.

“I understand.” Then you pull yourself from his mind. 

Even faced with death, while you cried over his limp body, he had refused to remove his helmet. 

No, you don’t understand at all.

~~

By the time Mayfeld and Mando board the ship, you’re seated in the cockpit once again, desperately trying to keep a firm hold on your emotions. The ship rocks with the force of an explosion as Boba makes a hasty retreat. 

“We got company. Hang on.” He announces. 

The ship swerves to the side as he maneuvers away from the blasts of two tie fighters, and you watch in fascination as the scope on his helmet automatically drops into place in front of his visor. 

“These Imperial pilots can’t hit a damn thing.” He complains to you.

“Isn’t that a good thing for us?” You ask.

“I suppose. It isn’t much fun though.”

Wow. Maybe he and Din aren’t so different after all, or perhaps all Mandalorians are just crazy. 

“You wanted to learn about the controls, right? Flip that gold switch I’m pointing to.” He requests.

After grasping a hold of the pilot seat to keep yourself upright, you reach for the control panel and flip the switch. 

“Excellent, now take my helmet.” He removes it and holds it out to you. “Let me know when the two fighters are within 80 meters of each other.” 

You take the helmet eagerly, desperate for some type of combat action to block out your overwhelming emotions. The visor remains dark until the helmet thunks into place around your head, then it bursts into life. There are so many readings on the display that you are overwhelmed for a moment. 

“Look at the top right corner of the HUD, it’ll show you the close-range scans and a distance measurement for the two targets.”

“Got it. The display measures the distance at 100 meters.” 

“Alright, just wait a second. Standard flight path protocol will have them grouping up soon.”

Sure enough, the number plunges down to 90, then 85, then 82. Just a little bit closer…“Now!”

A light flashes somewhere on the HUD as a click filters through the helmet’s speakers. A glance at the top right corner of the display reveals a projectile moving towards the two tie fighters, and you grin at the resulting explosion. There is still a satisfied smile on your face when you hand the helmet back to Fett. 

“Nice shot. And thank you.” You hope that he understands your referring both to the advice he shared earlier, as well as his recent actions.

He nods. “Any time, vod.” 

“Vod?”

“It’s Mando’a, the closest term in Basic is ‘comrade’.” 

That spikes your interest and there is a burning question on the tip of your tongue, but you leave it for later.

“I’m gonna set the ship down, you might want to take a seat.” Fett breaks the silence. 

You scramble to follow his advice, and once the landing cycle is complete he rises from his chair. “Just a moment.” He elaborates, as he descends down the ladder. 

His absence leaves you with a quiet moment to reflect, and you hold your fisted hands out so you can list some facts and organize your frazzled thoughts. Ok, you tell yourself as you take a deep breath. 

One, Din cares about you. 

Two, you care about Din. 

Three, he cares for the child like a son. 

Four...what’s another fact? Dank farrik!

Four, you repeat as you rack your brain. Ah yes, Din’s Creed forbids him from revealing his face to another being.

Five, Din obviously knew he had no choice but to risk breaking his code. The choice was to either reveal his face, or abandon the child to a fate that could be worse than death. 

Six. Well, now that you think about it, you are being a little bit petty. You would also be willing to risk anything, if it was the only way to save the kid. Now that you’ve gone and said it, you feel a little ashamed. Poor Din doesn’t deserve to deal with the loss of his child and your foul mood at the same time. 

You decide to continue your list.

Seven, Boba Fett’s ship is cool as hell.

Eight, Din is kinda hot. Wait, what?! Hold on a second.

Eight, Din is...alright fine. He’s pretty hot. 

Nine, He does have very nice thighs.

Ten, He’s really attractive when he’s fighting.

Eleven, He’s...Wait, you only have ten fingers! 

You really need to get yourself under control, this is completely out of line. 

“Let’s hold tight up here for a moment, Mando’s putting on his kit.” 

You let out an undignified squeak, caught entirely by surprise. What you said earlier was becoming more and more true by the second, Mando and Boba weren’t so different after all. 

~~

Meanwhile in the small fresher, Mando is in the process of attaching his beskar chestplate when you start projectingly very loudly. A blush rises to his cheeks as you approach the end of your mental list. He has always hoped that you felt some semblance of affection towards him, but the thoughts you are currently entertaining are on a whole new level.

After the events in the refinery, he’s still a little shaken, but he feels he owes you an explanation for his recent behavior. Once the last piece of Beskar is attached to his figure, he prepares to ascend the ladder to the cockpit. But, when he approaches, he can distinctly make out your voice, as well as Fett’s.

“There are two words that I sometimes hear Mando use, and I think that they are from Mando’a. Would you mind translating them?”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

“I did once. He didn’t answer.”

“What are they?”

“‘Verd’ and ‘ika’.”

“Interesting.” He strokes at his chin again. “It’s actually one word, verd’ika.” (Little warrior)

“Oh. What does it mean?”

“It means…” 

Oh no, Din thinks. I need to break this up right now. 

“What’s the status on Cara and Fennec?” He blurts out. Affection and amusement fill him when he notices you jump slightly in your seat at his sudden appearance. 

“They should be approaching our position at any moment now.”

Din nods. He realizes he’s awkwardly lingering at the base of the ladder now, but he can’t let Fett share that translation with you. Not yet. Not until he is able to explain himself.

“Fett, could you provide me with the materials to replace the cooling core in my blaster? All my spare parts and tools were on my ship.” 

Boba stares him down. He knows exactly what Din is trying to do. Din sighs, he is far too fatigued, mentally and emotionally, to deal with this right now. He’s just about to give up when Fett gives him a sharp nod, plops his helmet over his head, and rises from his chair before descending into the hull. Din notices him shoot you an apologetic look, which you respond to with a tight-lipped smile. 

Now that at least one disaster has been avoided, Din turns to follow through with his made-up task. A voice crackles through the speakers in his helmet, and he startles when he recognizes Fett’s voice. He hasn’t heard a fellow Mandalorian’s voice transmit through his helmet’s audio channel since the destruction of the covert. 

“I know what you did back there.” Fett states.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I meant in the refinery.” Fett clarifies.

Din tenses in response and whirls around to face Fett again. How could he know?

“I was monitoring all Imperial communications from inside the refinery as a precaution, just in case there was a complication. The Imperial terminal in the base uploaded a facial scan that wasn’t registered to the computer’s database right after you two arrived.”

Din’s hands clench into fists, if Fett saw the scan…

“Don’t worry Mando, I never saw the image. But, I did have to perform a fair bit of technological jargon to approve the scan. And, I made sure the image was deleted from the Imperial database immediately after the files were downloaded.”

Din’s figure visibly relaxes, those were just two more favors he owed Fett. 

“You know, you owe your companion a lot of explanations. Or should I say, gar verd’ika.” (Your little warrior)

If Din didn’t feel so exhausted he would put up a bigger fight, but he can’t help the way he immediately gives in to Fett’s unspoken inquiry. 

“She is...important to me, I just don’t know how to tell her.”

“Well you’re going to have to do better than that. Think about it, then come talk to me. We will figure it out, as brothers.”

Din nods his approval. 

“Are you two done staring into each other’s eyes? Because you’re kind of freaking me out.”

Mayfeld.

“Shut up Mayfeld.” Boba and Din huff in unison as they shoot him two identical helmeted glares.

Later, after Mayfeld is relieved from the crew, Boba and Din agree that they should fly to the nearest friendly planet so that they can restock their food stores and ammunition. While the ship is in hyperspace, Din takes a seat to prepare the message he plans to transmit to Moff Gideon. It only takes him a moment to agree on the wording. He decides to repeat the same lines that Moff Gideon arrogantly delivered on Nevarro several months ago, with a couple key differences. The message will serve as a warning, an omen of what is to come. 

The last line of the speech suddenly gives him an idea. Perhaps he knows what to say to you after all.

~~

Now that Mayfeld is gone, (you don’t even bother to ask why you are leaving him behind) you are free to sit down in the hold once again. But, after spending so much time in the cockpit, you find yourself wanting to stay. Boba Fett still sits in the pilot seat, wearing his helmet as he pilots the ship. Mando sits in the furthest corner of the hold, facing the clear viewport, as he and Cara discuss their next steps towards retrieving the child. You assume that Fennec is also down below, most likely passing the time by polishing her beloved rifle.

Fett breaks the comfortable silence that reigns over the cockpit. “As I recall, I promised you a chance to fly. Even though we’re in hyperspace right now, it’s good practice to just sit in front of the controls and familiarize yourself.” 

“Are you sure?” You’re secretly jumping up and down with excitement, but you don’t want to annoy Fett right as he’s offering you the opportunity to fly his ship.

“I’m quite certain.” He stands up, offering you the seat. 

You sit down immediately, running your fingers lovingly over the controls. It’s been a long time since you’ve been behind the console of a ship as unique as this one. After you’re done gawking, you look over to Fett, only to notice that he’s staring off into space. At least, you assume he’s staring off into space, you can’t really tell while he is wearing the helmet. He looks over to you after a second and removes his helmet, offering it to you for the second time that day. 

“Are you sure I need the helmet?” Please say yes.

“Go ahead, you might as well be familiar with all the aspects of the in-flight instruments.”

You offer him a beaming smile before settling the beskar over your head. “I’ll be right back.” You hear him say, along with the sounds of him descending the ladder. Odd, you think, he seemed to be in quite a hurry.

~~

 As Din discusses his plan with Cara, he hears Fett’s voice crackle through the speaker in his helmet. “You ready to have that discussion? Your companion just announced she’s heading to the fresher, so we have time for a brief chat in the cockpit.”

“I’ll be there shortly.” Din responds.

Din continues his conversation with Cara, and when he notices a blur make its way down the ladder from the cockpit, he politely excuses himself. 

He makes his way towards the ladder, the echo of his feet meeting the rungs causing nerves to bubble to life in his chest. One foot meets the durasteel flooring of the cockpit, then the other follows. He stands there awkwardly for a second, the back of the pilot chair and Fett’s helmet in clear view, then abruptly spills his thoughts.

“I know what to say.” He clears his throat as his voice cracks a little. 

~~ 

Fennec stands from her seat, affectionately patting her rifle as she props it against the side of the chair. As she passes by the supply closet on her way to the refresher, she notices Fett warily peering out from the doorway.

“What are you doing?”

Boba Fett, the famed Boba Fett, actually jumps at her words, hushing her as he continues to peer in the direction of the cockpit. She wrinkles her brow in confusion and glances towards the cockpit as well, wondering what exactly she should be watching for. 

~~

A few moments later, Cara notices that there is not a soul in sight, and she rises to her feet, determined to figure out where everyone has disappeared to. A quick sweep of the hull doesn’t reveal a sign of Mando or Fennec, so she decides to check the hallway on the other side of the hold. As she rounds the corner she notices both Fennec and Fett peering out of the doorway of what appears to be a supply closet.

Her eyes narrow as she stares them down. “What---”

Both Fennec and Fett shush her immediately, their gaze fixed upon the cockpit. Thoroughly bewildered, she too looks towards the cockpit, worried that something has gone awry. 

~~

Meanwhile, you are sitting in the cockpit, trying to scrape your jaw off of the floor as you examine each of the control panels. This really is one unique ship. Just as you are taking a closer look at the targeting instruments, a voice breaks through your thoughts.

“I know what to say to her now, Fett. I will tell her that she means everything to me, that she means more to me than I can ever put into words.” 

You are completely dumbfounded. Does Mando know who he just said that to? 

Fett...that sneaky little bastard...he set you two up, didn’t he. 

Well, you are not one to look a gift taun-taun in the mouth, so you take off the helmet, stand up, turn around, and level your gaze with Mando’s. 

“The feeling’s mutual, vod.” (Comrade)

He panics, because one second he’s standing in the cockpit, and the next he’s disappeared from sight. The clang of beskar meeting durasteel, along with a grunt of pain, echoes through the hold as you drop the helmet and scramble into motion. 

You rush to the top of the ladder, staring down at Din’s splayed out form in shock. A snicker breaks the silence and your gaze flies to the hallway where your other three companions are smothering laughter into the palms of their hands. You can’t help yourself, the ridiculous sight has you falling into a fit of giggles as well. 

“This is not funny!” Din’s voice echoes through your head.

The abruptness of his statement startles you, and one second you’re standing on firm durasteel, the next you’re falling through the air as you too plummet towards the flooring at the base of the ladder. Except you don’t hit the floor. You hit two warm arms that absorb most of your fall, then a beskar-clad chest. 

A pained grunt escapes Din’s helmet. 

“You’re heavy.”

“Yeah? Well you are busted, Mando.”

“Busted?” It sounds like he is still straining for breath.

“Busted.”

More laughter peals through the recycled air of the hold, and you and Din turn simultaneously to fix all three of your crewmates with a glare. 

“You see what you’ve done.” 

“It’s not my fault you're clumsy, Din.”

“Clumsy? You’re the one who fell on top of me!”

“You shouldn’t scare me all the time!”

“Are you two gonna get up, or are you just gonna lay there on the floor?”

“Cara!” You exclaim, your cheeks bursting into flames. 

“I can’t wait till this mission is over, you all need some serious help.” Fennec grumbles, but she’s hiding a grin as she stomps to her chair, retrieves her rifle-just a precaution, she mumbles-then enters the fresher. 

As for Fett, he has a shit-eating grin on his face, and you can’t help but notice that he looks like a proud father.

“Well, Mando, I think we solved your problem.” His grin falters a little. “Or, at least, one of your problems.”

Fett shoots you a wink as he steps over your prone form and ascends the ladder. “Good luck with that one, you’re gonna need it.”

Cara also walks past your sprawled out bodies, taking a seat as she pointedly looks away from you and out the viewport. 

You look down at Mando, a soft smile overcoming your features when you notice he’s been staring at you. One of the hands that was used to brace your fall is now settled on the small of your back and it holds you firmly to his chest. The other hovers in the air beside your left ear, hesitating, and you give it a glance out of the corner of your eye. You so desperately want him to touch you with that hand, just like you’ve always imagined. So you give him a little nudge. 

“Could you brush that piece of hair out of my eye for me?” It’s practically a whisper as you refrain from shattering this tender moment.

A shaky exhale rattles from beneath his helmet, and then his hand moves slowly to fulfill your request. Seconds drag by like hours...and then his touch finally greets your skin. With a tenderness that is so shocking it hurts (has he thought about this too?) the tips of four fingers meet your forehead, sliding down your temple oh so slowly until they glide through your hair, finally curling around the shell of your ear as any stray strands are tucked away. 

You shut your eyes for a moment, every nerve ending fizzling out in complete bliss as you bask in the warmth of his touch. Neither of you move for a long while, and you would think he’d fallen asleep if not for the incessant chatter that hums through your mind. 

“You’re smiling.” His voice surfaces through the haze of thoughts. 

“I know. I can feel you, your voice, your thoughts...I thought you shut me out.” 

“Never.”

You open your eyes and he is still in the same position as before. His hand curled behind your left ear, his visor staring up into your face, and the hand on your back still radiating the same warmth. After another shaky breath, he drags his hand down the side of your face, curls it around the back of your neck, then slides it upward over the base of your skull. Each movement is drawn out, as if he’s moving in slow motion. You both know that he’s only trying to prolong this moment, along with each gesture, for as long as he possibly can.  

It’s your turn to sigh when he bends your head down, closing the distance between your faces so that your forehead rests against the top of his helmet. Your palms, that had previously been supporting your weight, abandon the floor to splay themselves over Din’s beskar chestplate instead. The closeness is suffocating in the most beautiful way, and you’re sure that if he wasn’t wearing a helmet you would be begging for a kiss by now. 

“You’re thinking very loudly.”

His voice has you blushing, but you can’t bring yourself to feel ashamed.

“I can’t help it. You’re just too damn hot to handle.” It’s meant to tease him, but the response you receive is the complete opposite of what you expect.

“Yeah, especially when I’m fighting, am I right?”

There is a dramatic pause while your brain stalls to a grinding halt. “Were you listening earlier, Din? Why the nerve--”

He backpedals immediately, trying to reconcile his previous statement before you decide to jump up and clock him in the head. “Do you know that we’ve been kissing this whole time.”

Huh? Kissing? Your lips haven’t even touched! He must have hit his head harder than you thought. 

“Are you coherent right now?”

He chuckles fondly, the sound echoing through your mind, and you’re sure it's the most beautiful sound you have ever heard. “This gesture, our foreheads touching...it’s called a keldabe kiss. Since my people do not remove their helmets, that is how we show affection to our loved ones.”

“Oh.” You can feel his nerves pulsing through your mind. “It’s perfect.” A searing warmth blossoms throughout your whole body, and you know it is the result of his happiness. “Will you tell me--”

Fennec emerges from the fresher and shocks you two out of your stupor. “Are you two going to stop gazing into each other’s eyes and take a seat?” 

Fennec and Cara both share a chuckle at the way you and Din jump at the sudden intrusion. You are too immersed in your lovey-dovey emotions to even glare at them so you just huff in response. A glance towards Din’s helmet doesn’t reveal much about his current thought process, so you rely on your bond and just let yourself feel. 

The emotions he possesses are so powerful they are blinding, so you guide yourself to his loudest most current thoughts.

“...how’d I get so lucky? I wonder if she will let me kiss her again.”

You just shake your head fondly. “Come on Romeo, let’s go sit down.” You offer a hand once you are standing, and he grumbles, eventually taking it even though you both know he requires zero assistance to lift himself from the floor. He doesn’t release you though, even when he reaches his seat and settles into the chair. Just as you’re about to turn and return to your own seat, he tugs on that hand and sends you barreling into his lap. A wide-eyed look of shock is the only expression you can manage as you fumble to keep yourself on his lap without tumbling to the floor. 

And now he’s laughing into your bond again...great.

“Stop laughing and help me, you buffoon!”

Din quells his chuckling and finally moves to help you right your figure. His hands attempt to settle you into his embrace, but he can’t help but notice that you still seem uncomfortable. He looks to Cara for help, only to realize that her gaze is still directed out the viewport. Instead, he looks to Fennec, and the gaze that she eventually gives him screams you’ve got to be kidding me. He glares at her from beneath the helmet, raising a hand in desperation as he gestures towards you. Fennec glares back, and then mimics the pose of a droid, with her arms out, legs limp, and an impassive gaze on her face. Then she gestures back towards him. He gets the hint immediately, blushing red beneath the helmet, and nods his thanks. She just waves him off and continues to polish her rifle. 

For the first time in his adult life, the Mandalorian slouches in his seat. His spine rounds as he curls himself around your form, providing a protective shell around your body. Both hands guide you into a sideways position, similar to a wedding carry-he blushes even harder at that realization-and then he tucks your head into the crook between his helmet and chestplate, where his cloak will cushion your head. You give him a sleepy smile and snuggle closer to his armored chest, looping an arm around his neck as you get comfortable. 

“So will you tell me what it means?” You attempt again.

“What does what mean?”

“Verd’ika.”

“It means ‘little warrior’.”

The smile that overtakes your face is almost blinding. You fall asleep with the echo of that thought in your head, and wake up to the gentle snores of a certain Mandalorian. There’s an incessant needling in the back of your sleep-addled brain. There’s no way Din would have fallen asleep with the rest of the crew watching. You blink your eyes open, and panic a little bit when you realize that hold is quite a bit darker than earlier. There are a couple blinking lights from the cockpit that shed some light on the room. And after a second, you scan the area only to realize that there is no one else in sight. 

Abruptly, your back twitches in pain and you realize that Mando’s vambrace is digging into your back. You shift slightly, trying to adjust your position without leaving your warm perch. Din mumbles in his sleep, shifting a little bit at your movements, and it causes the hand you slung behind his neck earlier to thwack him rather violently in the back of the head. He shoots to a standing position immediately, and you squeak, clutching onto him like a koala as he nearly sends you hurtling towards the ground. 

His blaster is drawn in a second, and your sluggish mind struggles to connect with him through your bond in order to calm his frantic motions. He must break out of his trance before you are able to form a connection, because he suddenly settles back down into the chair with a tired exhale. 

“Sorry, you startled me.” He apologizes.

“It’s ok.” 

He adjusts you into a more comfortable position, fussing as he tucks you back into his chest. You just hum against his neck, basking in the warmth that he produces. Surprisingly, the beskar itself is also warm, and you note that it must maintain the same temperature as his body. 

“We landed a little while ago. The others left to enjoy a night on the town, they won’t be back for several hours.” 

“Mmm.” 

“Are you even awake?” 

“Yes.” You respond as you peel an eye open. The adorable way Din is tilting his helmet to look at your face sends a wave of affection blossoming through your chest. But, as cute as he looks right now, you really want to be asleep.

“Since we have a moment, I want to talk about what happened today.”

That has your attention, and you’re fully awake in seconds. 

“I know that we disagreed on a couple things today. And, we have both made implications about our feelings, but I want to lay everything out on the table so it is one hundred percent clear.”

You nod in agreement. 

“You and the child will always be the first priority to me. No matter what. Mandalorians value their clan, their family, above all else. You and the kid are my family.” He cuts himself off, voice cracking a little as he tries to continue.

You rush to fill the silence, eager to reassure him of your own feelings. “You and the kid are my family too Din, and I would not have it any other way. I know that you didn’t give me the mission earlier because you were worried about me. And, I know that you had to remove your helmet because there was no other way to locate the little one. I am sorry I didn’t support your decisions. I was bitter and hurt, but I won’t make that mistake again.”

A sound, like that of a choked sob, escapes Din and your heart squeezes in pain. Before you can finish, he cuts you off.

“I’m sorry I made you feel that way ner verd’ika. (My little warrior) I am so sorry, I didn’t even think about how you would feel.”

“No! Don’t apologize, I am the one apologizing to you.”

You are both laughing through your tears, and you clutch at his hands with both of yours. 

“I love you Din, I love you so much, and I will always support any decision you make.”

“Ner verd’ika, ni kar'tayli gar darasuum. (My little warrior, I love you) You hold my heart in your hands.”

At that admission, you feel a burning desire to kiss him, but you settle for resting your forehead against his helmet instead.

“I seem to recall that you promised to ‘kick my ass’ once we landed.”

“Stop it, you’re ruining the moment.” You rebuke him as you shove half-heartedly at his chest.

“I think you’re wimping out, ner verd’ika. (My little warrior) You don’t think you can beat me anymore?”

How dare he tease you. The nerve of this man.

“No, I’ll still kick your ass anyways. I hope you won’t be too embarrassed when I school you in front of everyone else tomorrow.” A smug smirk stretches across your face as you finish speaking.

“You’re quite feisty, my dear.”

“Shut up, you love it.”

He grumbles beneath the helmet, neither denying nor acknowledging your statement. 

“I never realized you had such a dirty mouth.” The words are directed through your bond, and you can’t help but notice that the tone is a little suggestive. His words have your face erupting into flames.

Your Mandalorian has some real nerve.

~~

Ending Notes: I am actually really happy with how this turned out. Multi-chapter stories are a little intimidating and I admire all of you writers that can juggle several multi-chapter stories at once. I hope that this did the whole un-masking/face reveal thing justice while still staying as true to Din’s character as possible. ALSO, if I messed up any of the Mandalorian culture/lore stuff, please let me know. 

~~

[oneoftheextras]

Notes

Angst Prompt: 8: “Why would I ever want to be with you?”

Warnings: Bakugo being a dick like normal

“I think you guys would be cute together!” Asui nodded after Uraraka confessed her crush on Midoriya, it was Friday night and the girls had all bundled into Momo’s dorm room to have a ‘girls night’. And of course the subject had turned to boys.

“I don’t think he would ever like me” she blushed at Asui’s words, everyone immediately started to shake their heads in disagreement. “He definitely likes you” Jiro added bluntly.

“What about you Y/L/N?” Asui asked you, making everyone’s heads turn towards your direction, immediately you blushed “Oh, I don’t like anyone” you said quickly. It was a lie, you did like someone but there was no chance anyone would agree with it.

“You don’t have to hide it from us, we wont tell” Uraraka tried to reassure you, but you continued to shake your head. “Maybe she’s ashamed of it” Mina proposed, “Oh my god, it’s not Mineta is it?!” she blurted out.

The room erupted into a bunch of ‘Ews’, “Don’t insult me like that” you joked. “Then it has to be someone we wouldn’t expect” Asui deducted.

“Kirishima?” Momo asked, “No, it’s not him! He’s my best friend” you answered “So there is someone” Mina spotted your slip up.You groaned into your hands.

“Is it Bakugo?” Uraraka asked, not sure herself “Oh my god no!” you blurted out a bit too quickly, but the blush on your cheeks said it all. “They do spend a lot of time together” Jiro chimed in, “We just sit next to each other in class, that’s all” you protested, trying to throw them off the trail.

“It has to be Bakugo, look how pink her face is” Mina squealed, squeezing the fluffy pink pillow she was hugging. Groaning again, you put your hands into your face even further.

“I can see it” Momo shrugged, “Really?” Uraraka raised an eyebrow in disbelief, “Why Bakugo of all people?” she asked you. “Well, he’s stupid strong” you said and everyone begrudgingly nodded. “And he puts on that whole angry attitude thing, but there’s more to him” you quietly explained.

“I for one think you should ask him out on a date” Momo said, Uraraka seemed unsure and everyone else was thinking about it, “If he was with someone like you, he might calm down” he laughed, taking a sip of her tea that she’d made.

You felt your phone vibrate, Kirishima had sent you a text “Guys night blows” he’d sent, you smiled down at your phone and chuckled, apparently the boys had decided to do the same thing that you girls had.

“So does girls night, all we’re doing is talking about boys” you sent back. Luckily the conversation had moved on from you and Bakugo and now onto how everyone could set Uraraka and Midoriya up.

“Anything about me?” Kirishima replied quickly “Other than the normal, them asking me if we’re a thing” you typed back to him, you both had to content with people thinking you were a couple - at first it made you hesitant to be such close friends with him, but in the end you didn’t care.

“But I thought we were a thing? ;)” he remarked back, to which you replied “You wish” and pocketed your phone.

“Let’s play truth or dare!” Uraraka exclaimed, clapping her hands together excitedly. “Do we have to?” you moaned, you hated this game, mainly because you were a private person and didn’t like everyone knowing your business.

You felt your phone vibrate again, it was Kirishima with another text “Bakugo’s talking about you”, your heart fluttered at the sight of the text and you immediately wished you could hear the conversation. “What’s he saying?” you hurriedly sent back. You stared at your phone screen for a while watching him type back.

Kirishima was the only one who truly knew the extent of your crush on Bakugo. He was the first one you told, knowing how close he was to the two of you, and he would tell you the small things Bakugo would say about you.

“He was asked which girl out of our class would he most wanna make out with and he said you” he’d texted you, you felt your tummy do a back flip as you read it. No way he’d said that. “Anything else?” you bravely replied.

The rest of the girls had finished getting into a circle so you guessed the game was about to start. “Okay, Uraraka, truth or dare?” Mina shouted, pointing a finger across the circle at her “Um, dare?” she rubbed the back of her neck anxiously.

“I dare you to text Midoriya and ask him if he likes you” Mina smirked, oh no this was the type of Truth or Dare they were going for. You watched as Uraraka shakily got out her phone, typed for a little bit and then stopped.

“Oh god!” she exclaimed, putting her head into her hands in shame “What if he says no, or it ruins our friendship?” she started to worry. “I doubt that will happen” Jiro said bluntly.

“Who’s next?” Mina beamed, of course she was loving this, she wasn’t the one who’s crushes were being exposed.”How about you?” you smirked at her, taking her by surprise “Truth or Dare?” you shot.

“Uh, Truth?” she shifted her eyes around the room, concerned about what she had gotten herself into “Have you ever had a sexy dream about anyone in our class, and if so who?” you asked, you wanted to embarrass her as much as she had been embarrassing you and Uraraka.

She shook her head immediately, “Hey, no, that’s two questions!”, sighing you reiterated your question “Okay, you don’t have to tell us who, just have you?”. Crossing her arms at being outed she just said “Yes” and that was it, everyone else seemed to have the same thought and said a communal “Ooooh”.

“Y/L/N, you go next” Mina pouted, seemingly not having as much fun as before, “Sure, Dare” you said before you could think. You had an unspoken rule with yourself that when you played this game you would always pick Dare to make the game fun and interesting.

Jiro shifted forward towards you and smiled, “I dare you to airdrop a meme to the first unknown contact that comes up” she said, that wasn’t as bad as you thought it was going to be.

You took out your phone, seeing that you also had a reply from Kirishima, but instead you turned airdropping on and blindly clicked the first name, purposely not reading it and send them your most recent and stupid meme.

Waiting to hear a someone’s phone go off but you were met with silence, “Any of you guys get anything?” you asked the room but were met with a series of head shakes and ‘no’s.

The game carried on, so you took the opportunity to check your text messages, “We started asking him more questions about you but he got mad and told us to shut up, I’ve never seen him like that before” he had replied, following up with “Did you just Airdrop Bakugo a meme?”. God damn it, there was no way that it was him you sent it to.

You quickly typed back a ‘No?’ and waited for his response, “Really? Cause it’s the same meme you sent me earlier” he said. Crap.

Then another message came in, it in reply to your stupid meme, which you now knew was Bakugo - but he didn’t know it was you he was texting, and you were supposed to not know it was him.

Bakugo had sent you a meme in response, it was actually fairly funny so you started to giggle at it out loud. When the people around you stopped talking, you’d realised that you were being maybe too loud.

The girls were all staring at you, waiting for you to explain your random fit of laughter. “They replied to my meme with another meme” you said through tears of laughter. And then the game resumed like normal.

Everyone in the room had a go at the truth or dare, you aimlessly watched while you and Bakugo sent memes back and forth. Obviously Kirishima was getting all of them as well. Very quickly, your turn as up again.

“Y/L/N, truth or dare” Momo asked you, peering up from your phone you looked around the room, no way you would get away with such an easy dare again. “Truth” you broke your rule, Momo smiled sweetly, “How long have you had a crush on Bakugo?” she asked, it was an innocent question which you would have expected from her.

Although, if you were to answer truthfully as the game suggested you do, then you would have to admit that it all started from the entrance exam. There was just something about the way he owned the entire course and destroyed those that got in his way that made him seem very very attractive.

“I change my mind, Dare!” you switched desperately, “No you can’t do that!” Mina shouted, “No, that’s fine” Momo backed you up, but then a sly smile came across her face, the sweet girl you knew gone.

“I dare you to ask Bakugo on a date” she said, the room gasped. “W-What?” you stuttered, wanting to make sure that you heard it properly. “I said, I dare you to ask Bakugo on a date, right now” she specified.

You couldn’t back down, after all you were offered a Truth and you blew it. It wasn’t like she was telling you to do something you didn’t want to do, you absolutely wanted to go on a date with Bakugo, but you never had the balls to ask him. Maybe this was the push you needed.

“Okay” you said bravely, “You can’t be serious” Uraraka was speechless, “Why not? It’s not a big deal” you lied through your teeth, shrugging it off. You stood from your seated spot and wiped your sweaty hands on your pyjamas.

Marching to the door and swinging it open, you looked behind you to see all of the girls sheepishly following behind you, oh god they we’re going to listen in were they?

You confidently walked down the hallway until you reached Bakugo’s room, you were about to knock when you heard laughter coming from the inside, it sounded like their ‘guy party’ was still going strong.

Nervously, you glanced behind you and saw the girls at the end of the corridor, peeping their heads around the corner to watch what was about to go down.

You knocked on the door harshly.

The laughter from inside stopped.

You heard footsteps getting louder.

The door swung open, “What do you want nerd?” your ears picked up, but your brain didn’t process the sound. Red orbs were glaring into you, and it made you freeze on the spot. Peering beyond that and into the darkened room, you saw all the guys of Class 1-A huddled together, even Midoriya, Mineta and Iida were there.

“Hey” you tried to smile and bring back the faux confidence you had a moment ago, you wiped your hands subtly on your pyjamas again as Bakugo raised his eyebrow at you, waiting for you to answer his question.

“I was wondering, if you’re not busy that is, would wanna go get coffee tomorrow- or if you don’t like coffee maybe something else like a tea, or food or something similar- you get the point” you rambled, good god why did you have to ramble. You couldn’t help it, his scowl and whole attitude made the butterflies in your stomach flutter as though someone had shaken their cage.

“Are you... asking me out?” he asked in disbelief, “Yeah, yeah, I guess I am” you nervously chuckled, for some reason you started to rub the side of your arm, it felt like hours were going by while you waited for him to respond.

By the movement in the foreground of your vision, you could tell that the other’s must have heard what you’d said, and if not that, they definitely heard Bakugo reiterate your question - his voice had a way of carrying.

He brushed one of his hands through his spiked blonde hair, you could see it in his eyes that he was processing it, his expression had turned soft and all of a sudden he seemed less threatening, but instead kind.

Kirishima broke the silence with a not-so-subtle cough.

Almost as though he had been in a trance, Bakugo’s frown was back, his eyes shifted to the side as though he was trying to look at his friends without turning his head. Then he brought his gaze back to you.

“Why would I ever want to be with you?” he shouted at you, and with one last scowl he shifted back into the darkened room and slammed the door in your face.

He slammed it with such force that a gust of wind tickled your face, you stood their staring at the closed door.

You turned back to your group of friends, their giggles replaced with silence, and their smiles repossessed with gestures of guilt. Not one of them could meet your eye, especially not Momo.

“I’m just gunna go to bed, it’s getting late” you weakly smiled to them, waving, you carried on down the hall and to your own dorm room, you refused to let any tears fall before you were behind your own shelter door.

Luckily your room was two down from Bakugo’s so it didn’t take you long to reach it. Softly closing and locking the door behind you, you stood in silence, staring at the interior of your room.

There was a very slim chance that he would want to date you, you knew that, but being rejected so harshly and in front of your entire class was something you weren’t ready for.

You’d been trying to sleep for hours now, hoping that you would feel better in the morning. The laughter from down the hall had stopped for some time now, so the ticking of your clock was your only audible friend.

Getting out of bed and putting on one of your hoodies, you opened the sliding door to your balcony and stepped out into the cold night air. The stars were bright tonight, they had won their fight against the light pollution of the city, every single one twinkled in their own way - you admired that.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw movement, without fully turning your head you watched a figure a few rooms across have the same idea as you, stepping out to lean on the railing.

You tried to ignore them and continue your star gazing but they kept moving, you watched them quietly and repeatedly slam their fist down towards the railing, not actually making contact but it seemed like they wanted to.

They hadn’t seen you yet, that much was obvious. Especially when they started to mumble to themselves. You couldn’t understand what they were saying exactly but you could pick up on a few words ‘moron’, ‘idiot’ and other harsher ones that you were not expecting to hear.

Feeling as though you were intruding on someone’s mental breakdown you decided to slip back inside before they noticed you. The moment you moved they froze and snapped their body to face you, like a rabbit in headlights you did the same.

Their identity would have remained anonymous if they hadn’t said your name, the shadows casting on their face meant you couldn’t see their mouth move but the cloud of vapour that floated from their body and towards the sky indicated that it was them that had spoken.

You knew exactly who that was. Only a few hours prior they had yelled in your face and slammed a door on you.

The breaking of the silence also broke your immobility, taking another step forward you slipped back into your room and closed the door behind you.

Unzipping your hoodie and hanging it back in its rightful place on the wall, you walked back over to your bed and sat down. By the time you’d laid yourself back down on your bed, you heard a few knocks at your door and then footsteps seemingly getting fainter and fainter.

Groaning, you got back up out of bed and walked over to your door and opened it, exposing your eyes to the bright lights of the hallway.

No one was there, it was just you and the empty corridor.

You were about to close your door again and go back to your attempt at sleep when you noticed a bit of paper on the floor with your name on it. Curiosity got the better of you, you reached down and picked it up.

Opening up the note it read “I’m sorry” on one side, confused, you turned it over and what you saw made your heart leap.

“Coffee? Tomorrow? At 12?”

Tonight you would go to bed smiling.

[thiswasinevitableid]

feel free not to take this but it is still technically march so. vampire sternclay nsfw, a hungry submissive vampire being so, so good in the hope that their human will let them have a taste?

Here it is! I guess it’s april now but eh, on this blog it’s always monster time.

Content Notes: Mentions of blood, since we’re dealing with vampires. The roleplay in this could read as dubcon, since Stern has something Barclay needs, but aftercare is shown and even in the scene it’s clear Barclay feels safe and happy.

“I thought we could act out that, um, request you had for me tomorrow night”

“The one where you let me…”

“Yes, big guy, that one.”

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

Barclay waits in Mt. Sterns study, clock on the mantle reading three minutes to six. Lamps are being lit up and down the street as the citizens of London flock out into the first warm night of the year. Barclay will not be joining them; Mr.Stern has other plans for him, and the crosses over the windows and doors to the street ensure Barclay doesn’t go anywhere without his permission. 

It could be worse. Much worse.

Mr. Stern frequents the gentleman's club where Barclay is (was) a cook, is polite and charming when he discusses the latest evidence of monsters in the Himalayas or the depths of the sea. He’s American, like Barclay, which meant someone appreciated the pies he made for dessert. Every visit, he stopped by the kitchen to compliment Barclays food, insisting was the best in the city. 

So imagine Barclays’ horror when, half-starved and foggy-brained, the man he pounced on in an alley turned out to be none other than Joseph Stern. The fear intensified when the human easily overpowered and pinned him, revealing that he was an agent of the crown, a member of the Royal Order of Vampire Hunters.

“I can’t let you free, not in good conscience given you attacked me and could attack someone else. But I don’t want to hurt you, Barclay.”

The agents solution was to bring the vampire home with him, lock him in the safety of the cellar (so he wouldn’t get burnt), and use him as a subject for his research. Mr. Stern prides himself on being the preeminent scholar on the subject of vampirism (“Dr. Helsing’s research is sorely lacking, but everyone goes to him because of the Harker Affair”), and couldn’t pass up the chance to make use of his live-in vampire. Generally, he peppers Barclay with questions or submits him to minor medical tests, always giving him a glass of blood to drink while they work. That glass is conspicuously absent tonight, as was the note Mr. Stern usually leaves him detailing what to expect. 

Barclay bounces his knee as his stomach growls; they ran out of blood last night and a new supply has yet to arrive. Then the door opens, and he perks up like a bloodhound offered a bone. 

“Hello, Barclay, thank you for being so prompt.” Mr.Stern is in his full suit, hair styled as if he just returned from the office. 

“Of course, sir. I, uh, I’ve been looking forward to this all day.” He smiles, licks his lips as the human removes his jacket, revealing more of his throat in the process. 

“You like being my research assistant?”

“Very much sir.”

Mr. Stern rolls up his shirtsleeves, “I think you’ll like tonight's experiment quite a bit. On the desk.” He pats the strangely empty hardwood and Barclay sits on the edge, tall enough that his feet still touch the floor. The human opens his dictograph, stops before turning it on, “lie down.”

Barclay does as he’s told, jolts in confusion as Stern pulls three leafs of wood from the desk; one on either side of Barclay and one at his feet, meaning that his whole body is on the table with a few inches of room to spare on all sides.

“This isn’t your normal desk, is it sir?”

“No, I had it made just for us.” The dictograph clicks on, “April 14th, experiment twenty-nine; determining the relationship between sexual arousal and bloodlust in vampires.”

“Wait, what?” Barclay bolts upright, starts climbing off the desk only for Stern to firmly cup his cheek. 

“Barclay, you want to be a good specimen, don’t you?” Something sharp and wicked as a scalpel glints behind the clinical curiosity in his blue eyes. 

“Yes, sir.” He does, he really does, but he’s so hungry. Hungry and terrified that whatever Stern is planning will cause Barclay to admit the feelings he has to keep reburying in his chest thanks to their reemerging whenever Stern smiles at him. 

“Then do as you’re told.” He takes his hand away, Barclay mourning the loss of contact as the reclines back onto the desk. 

“Much better.” Stern walks around the desk, patting Barclay’s head along the way, “If you’re good tonight, I’ll give you a special reward. One you’ve never had before.”

Barclay resolves to be better than he’s ever been. Stern's rewards are well planned and generous, leaving Barclay positively spoiled when he’s done. He buys him the expensive draught that lets vampires consume non-blood foods without illness, then takes him to dinner. Brings him rare teas and books to read while he sips them. When he learned Barclay liked theater and opera, evenings out in finery became part of the rotation. He can’t imagine what the extra special reward will be, but he hopes it involves more of Sterns gentle touches on his skin. 

“I’m starting the experiment now. To establish our baseline, how aroused are you?”

“Like, a little?”

“Are you craving blood?”

“Yeah, I’m kinda hungry, but not like, crazed or anything.”

“Good. I’ll keep checking in with the subject throughout the process.” He pulls a notebook from his shelf, and Barclay can see a checklist running down the page, “I’ll start by relaxing the subject.” 

The detached manner in which Stern refers to him should aggravate him; instead, his cock twitches in his pants and he squirms, hoping the human will say it again. 

Stern rolls Barclays pants up to his knees, picks up his right foot and kneads his thumb along the arch. He finds all the sore spots with ease (almost as if he’s done this before), Barclay moaning softly as he works his way up one leg and then other. The vampire is so relaxed by the end he almost misses Stern guiding his wrists into the cuffs on either side of him. 

“Sir?”

“It’s for your safety and mine; you may get agitated later on, and I don’t want you injuring yourself. Arousal level?”

“About the same.”

Stern raises his eyebrow.

“Uh, I mean, about the same, sir.”

“Hunger?”

“The same, sir.”

The agent turns back to the dictaphone, “Subject is now restrained. Proceeding to step twoOW, shit.” He sets the notebook down and shoves his right pointer finger into his mouth. 

It’s only a small paper-cut, bleeding a bead of red when he pulls it out to examine it. To Barclay, it’s like someone cracked open a fine wine and is taking their sweet time pouring.

Stern notices his interest immediately, “Is this what you want, Barclay? To taste me?”

He whines, nodding his head. Stern’s hand hovers over his face; he could reach it with his tongue, but if he takes it without permission the human will no doubt revoke his reward. 

The cut finger strokes his neck, leaving a faint trail of red that he can smell but neither see nor reach. 

“Then I guess it’s convenient that’s your reward for tonight.”

“Ohfuckyes, sir, thank you sir.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, we’re only through step one. Where was I” he flips to the same page in his notes, “Oh, right. Addition of even a faint trace of blood lead to increased arousal in the subject. Testing the reverse pathway now.”

“Ohhhhhhfuck” Barclay bucks his hips as Joseph palms his cock through his pants. The warmth and pressure are enough to tease, to coax his cock up, but too little for him to do anything but rut like a needy dog on his hand. 

“It looks like stronger stimulation is required.” 

“AHahgodOWfuck” tears prick his eyes and he wishes, not for the first time, that he’d been less prone to taking the lords name in vain when he was human. The habit is hard to break and the word burns his tongue whenever it’s uttered.

Sterns eyes flick up to his face just long enough for him to see Barclay isn’t hurt, then they return to his cock. His hand moves in calculated, steady strokes, his voice calm even as Barclays grunts of pleasure fill the room. 

“Good boy, Barclay. Let’s see what happens if I…”

“Fuck, ohfucksir.” He jerks his hips as Stern quickens his hand, pre-cum slicking the shaft.

“Subjects fangs are emerging, salivary glands seem more active, eyes-Barclay, be quiet, you’re going to drown out my notes.”

This statement does not have the desired effect, as the thought of the device picking up his moans, of Stern playing them back with a clinical ear or fucking himself to them or letting other hunters listen to just what a vampire will do in order to feed, makes him moan louder. 

Stern stops entirely, his tone a warning, “Barclay.”

“S-sorry sir, it, it just, it feels so good, wanted you to, to know I like it. It’s, it’s an honor to feel your hands on me.”

“That’s very sweet. So sweet that I’ll make you a deal; if you can be quiet until after you cum, you can make as much noise as you want afterwards. Understood?”

“Yes sir.” He clamps his jaw shut, fangs pricking the inside of his mouth. Stern works his cock relentlessly, smiling as Barclay’s legs begin jerking and twitching with his impending orgasm. 

“That’s much better.”

Barclay smiles, proud, swallows down a moan, and cums all over Sterns waistcoat.

“Messy boy.” Stern wipes himself off, then covers Barclay’s mouth with a cum-streaked hand, “clean it up.”

He obeys, ambivalent to the bitterness of his own spend and elated by the taste of Sterns skin on his tongue. When he’s done the human ruffles his hair with his other hand, smiling down at him. 

“I’ll be right back.” Stern leaves his view and Barclay only just keeps himself from whining at his absence. The agent returns with a case which, when opened, reveals a vibrator. 

“I’m not hysterical, sir.”

“Not yet.” Rather than hold it himself, Stern straps the device so it rests against Barclays cock and switches it on.

“AHFUCK, sir, it’s, how many times-” His cock, which was soft only a moment ago, perks back up even as the nerves in it scream for it to stop.

“As many as it takes to complete my study. Let’s see.” The human turns Barclays face this way and that, frowns, and digs his finger and thumb into his jaw to keep his mouth open as he moans, “subjects fangs are now fully out and he” Stern snickers as Barclay’s beard tickles his wrists, the vampire licking and nuzzling at his inner arm, “he’s increasingly submissive and blood focused.”

“N-no, I’m you focused sir, want you, be so good for youAHannn” he cums, cuffs clanking on the table as he arches off it. Stern drags a chair over, sitting near Barclay’s head and leaning with his elbows on the desk to watch as his cock continues leaking and shuddering under the onslaught of sensations. 

Barclay recalls a myth, Greek he thinks, where a man is punished in the afterlife with intense hunger and thirst. He doesn’t remember why it happens, he tends to skim tragic stories. The part that stuck with him was the man being trapped with food and water just out of reach. With Joseph so close and Barclay so aroused and hungry, he can see the veins in his neck, can almost crane his neck to reach them. 

Then he cums a third time and his vision whites out, taking away the temptation for a few moments of mercy. His brain gives up on coherent thoughts after that, and all he can do is moan and sob as Stern forces two more orgasms out of him. His feet and legs go from kicking and thrashing to laying so limp he’s not sure he’ll be able to walk when they’re through.

“I think I have what you need.” Stern shuts off the vibrator, removing bringing a water basin and pitcher over to the vampire. He dips a handkerchief into the warm water, guiding it along Barclays forehead, “you’re doing well, Barclay. I’m so proud.” 

“Thank you sir. 

“I have one more test to run, okay?” His voice is so gentle, his touch so soothing, and Barclay would do anything for him like this, all he wants is to serve him, to make him happy so he’ll keep looking at him like he’s something precious instead of dangerous. 

The agent checks the dictaphone, clears his throat, “Final test: role of discomfort in the arousal-bloodlust dynamic.”

Barclay swallows, so turned on he couldn’t be scared if he tried. The agent pulls a loose page from the notebook, mischief in his eyes and menace on his fingertips. Only Stern could make the snap of a freshly inked piece of paper erotic, and Barclay adores him for it. 

“I will now have the subject read a passage and record my observations.” 

Letters fill his view and it takes his eyes a second to focus on them. His tongue, likely out of self-preservation, fights to stay behind his teeth. 

“We don’t have all night, Barclay.”

The vampire takes a deep breath, “O God, accept me in penitence. O God, l- leave me not. O Lord, lead me not into temptation” his tongue flinches even as his chest burns with pleasure “O God, grant me good thoughts. O God, grant me humility and obedience.”

“I’d say you’re doing well on that front already,” Stern murmurs, saying more clearly, “the subject responds positively to pain associated with holy words, and looks increasingly thirsty.” He gives Barclay a pointed look, “subject should continue if he wants his reward.” 

 “O Lord, grant me patience, courage and meekness. O God, grant me to love Thee with all my mind and soul.” Tears run down his cheeks; the pain is right on the edge of what he can take, and even in his submissive haze he’s certain this alone is deserving of a reward, “Sir, please, please, I’ve been so good, please say you’re satisfied so I can, I can-”

Stern sets the paper aside, “can what? Specificity is important, Barclay.”

A dozen types of hunger well up in his throat as he whimpers, “please say I can taste you.”

An indulgent smile, “Of course. Give me a second to prepare.”

The vampire closes his eyes, breathes as slowly as he can manage as his tongue ceases tingling. There’s a scuff and thud of Stern touching the desk, and Barclay assumes he’s being freed until warmth straddles his chest and a shadow blocks the lamplight from his face.

“Ohfuck.” He opens his eyes, finds Stern--naked from the waist down--bracketing his ears with his knees. 

“Is this the taste you wanted?” Stern guides his head up and Barclay eagerly kisses his cock.

“N-no I wanted to feed but, but this is so, so perfect sir.”

“You think you deserve to feed from me?”

Barclay nods, too busy teasing his tongue along his folds to respond further. The hunter is wet, and the thought of him soaking his tailored trousers just by watching Barclay cum is almost as heady as the scent of the blood beneath his skin. 

“Well, I think this is what you deserve, for being so careless as to attack me, and for having to rely on my hospitality to survive.”

“Uhhummm” Barclay closes his lips around his cock and Stern moans, a sound Barclay would gladly swallow holy water to hear again. 

“Nnn, oh lord, that’s it, you’re doing so well big guy.”

He purrs at the praise, mouth watering as Stern’s body sends more blood south. The skins so sensitive here, so thin, he can practically taste iron through it. He grazes his teeth along Sterns thigh, hoping for the smallest of scrapes, yelps when the agent pulls his hair hard enough to slam his head back against the desk. 

“If you bite without permission, I will leave you here, like this, with that vibrator strapped to your cock, until the morning.”

Barclay whimpers, licks plaintively at his cock to show he’s sorry. Stern’s voice softens, “That’s better. I know it’s hard to restrain yourself, but you--oh lord--you must. I hate having to discipline you my sweet boy, I’d much, much rather-” his hips gain speed, smearing slick across Barclays mouth, “fuck, I’d rather spoil you and then do whatever I want to this perfect body, oh, ohlord, ohyes.” He tenses, gasping, and Barclay wishes his hands were free so he could hold him, keep him safe and steady while he takes his pleasure.

The hunter eases off of him, undoes the cuffs and helps him upright. They move on equally shaky legs to the settee, the human undoing the top buttons of his shirt once they do. 

“Barclay…”

“Yes, sir?” He grips the edge of the cushions to keep from pinning the agent to their deep blue surface. 

“You can have your reward now.” Stern tips his head sideways, revealing a welcoming patch of throat. Barclay growls, lunges forward as Stern makes no attempt to stop him. His teeth pierce willing skin and hot, sinfully delicious blood flows across his tongue. Stern goes rigid in his arms, voice cracking in a moan. Then he relaxes, clinging to Barclays shoulders as the vampire pushes him down, licking and sucking and smearing crimson kisses across his neck. 

Nothing in the world compares to fresh blood, freely offered, swallowed down while the most handsome man you’ve ever seen lets out softer and softer moans of ecstasy. 

Two taps register on his shoulder and he pulls away, lapping at the wounds so they’ll stop bleeding and be protected from infection. Joseph groans, gingerly shaking his head to clear it.

“You feeling okay, big guy?”

“Y’know how pythons will eat a cow once a month and then sleep for days? That sounds really fucking good right about now.” Barclay knows some vampires feel energized after feeding, but for him it’s always followed by the need for a nap.

“Let’s go upstairs first, the bed is better than the couch for that. Last time I fell asleep here my back hurt the whole next day.”

“Someone feeling being in his thirties?”

“Barclay, you’re three hundred.”

“And I don’t feel a day over two hundred and fifty.” He smiles as Joseph chuckles and kisses his cheek. 

They make it up the stairs, Barclay easing his way under the covers and trying not to let them touch his sore cock. Joseph brings two water glasses and a damp cloth. Barclay uses the latter to clean the last traces of blood from his skin, patching over the punctures with the bandages they keep in the bedside table. 

“Fun as it is to pretend to be your, like, pet vampire, I really glad you decided you just needed a roommate after I was stupid enough to attack you.”

Joseph polishes off his water, “You were starving, not stupid. Most vampires who go after humans are. It did put a damper on my plans to proposition you in the club kitchen the next night, but it worked out in the end.”

“They did warn me the clientele might try to bribe me into earning a few extra pounds with uh, ‘special services.’”

“A few pounds is barely a fair price for a kiss from you.” The human kisses him, somehow more sincere and loving than the equally tender kiss he gave him before leaving for work. Then he rubs his leg through the blankets, “do you want some tea? Indrid dropped off a new one he found while traveling with Duck, and it smells amazing.”

“Sounds great, blue eyes.”

“I’ll go make a pot of it while you rest; you did so well tonight I’m inclined to spoil all weekend.”

“No complaints here. You take such good care of me, Joseph.”

“You deserve it, big guy. Don’t go anywhere.” He kisses his brow and leaves the bed, whirling on his dressing gown as he goes towards the stairs. 

Barclay watches him with all the love his unbeaten heart can muster and murmurs, “I won’t. Not when everything I need is right here.”

[seokmattchuus]

Innocent - Seungyoun

A/n: I’m 100% honest in the fact that I have no idea what I did here. 

“Such a dirty girl aren’t you? I bet no one knows you love shit like this, huh? I wonder what they would say if they saw you like this. All spread out and desperate for me. Or would you like that? Getting caught-”

“Whatcha listening to?” Your boyfriend smiled as he sat down, reaching for one of your headphones.

“Just some music.” You said, quickly switching to Spotify and smiling up at him.

Of course it was a lie, but Seungyoun was the last person you wanted to find out about your little secret. 

Maybe you’d stumbled across a few NSFW audios on Youtube, and maybe they were addictive. It’s not like it was big deal. Everyone gets off to something, right? But from you? It wasn’t expected to say the least.

“So, your class ended early?” You spoke up, looking up at him.

“Yeah, I was going to go pick you up, but you were here waiting.” He smiled, his hand coming up to pet your hair. “Now let’s go get some food.” 

You smiled and got up with him, grabbing the hand he stuck out for you. 

“What are you in the mood for?” You asked, swaying his hand. “’Cause I kinda want a burger.”

“Then burgers it is.” He smiled. 

-

You’d ended up taking the food back to Seungyoun’s place since you had some homework to finish but when you got there, you barely even touched your food, too engrossed on looking at the videos your professor assigned, your head dropping onto your notebook as you gave up on taking notes. 

“Why not take a break and finally eat?” Seungyoun chuckled. 

“I can’t take a break, I’ll never get back to it.” You sighed.

“How about this.” He started. “I go take a shower, you take a break and when I’m done showering, you can get back to work.”

You gave a small nod, and paused the video before closing the laptop. 

“Sounds good.” You smiled, sitting back and stretching your arms, watching as he disappeared into the hallway.

You pulled out your phone, looking to see if there were any updates on the viral scary story you followed, but the only notifications you had were for some music videos, and a couple for true crime. You settled for a true crime video and started eating. But you were halfway through it when you got a new notification. 

For an audio. 

It wouldn’t hurt right? It wasn’t a long one and Seungyoun was in the shower. He’d never find out. You could get away with it.

With that thought in mind, you forgot about your food and plugged in your headphones before taping on the notification, slightly glancing towards the hallway just to be safe.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t see through your little plan? Wearing that short dress and giving everyone a view of that perfect body of yours. You wanted to make me mad. Get me all riled up and have me drag you back home so I could teach you a lesson? And to think you act like such a good girl. Who would’ve figured you’d be such a brat-”

“Caught you red handed!” Seungyoun cheered as he snatched your phone, the headphones unplugging in the process and playing the video out loud. “This? Really?” He held back a chuckle.

“That was a quick shower.” You tried, clearing your throat as you looked away, trying to hide how red your face was getting.

“It was like, twenty minutes. Don’t change the subject.” 

“Oh, you said to get back to work after you showered, right? I better do that.” You continued, opening your laptop only for it to be shut right in front of you.

“Nuh-uh.” He smiled, waving the phone in front of your face. “Explain.”

“You watch porn!” You yelled in defense. “This is...kinda like porn.” Your voice was quieter as you said the last part.

“Kinda but not really.” He kept smiling. “Could’ve just told me you liked dirty talk.”

“I do not!” You felt the heat rise to your cheeks. “Why would I bring it up if we’ve never even..” You trailed off. 

“Never what?” He teased, cocking his head to the side.

“You know...” You trailed off with a frown.

“I really don’t.” He smiled, watching as your face turned even more red. “Why don’t you try explaining it to me?”

Your eyes tried to look anywhere else, but he wasn’t letting up.

“Be a good girl for me, yeah?” His voice softened, but it wasn’t the usual soft tone he had, this one made your stomach tighten. It didn’t help that his hand came up to make you look at him. “I could make you feel better than this stupid audio ever could.” He was whispering now and his eyes softened as he spoke. “All you have to do it tell me.”

This entire situation was so unreal but you didn’t even have time to question it. Everything he was doing had you melting into him and you didn’t even bother fighting it.

“Just..we’ve never..even kissed..” You trailed off nervously, your lips pressing against one another as you held his gaze.

“Is that what you want?” His voice stayed as a whisper, but it was more serious now, comforting even. You couldn’t even form words, only nodding your head.

It wasn’t until he leaned in that you flinched back, Seungyoun stopping immediately and looking at you with concern.

“I just..” You paused, your eyes falling to your lap. “I don’t know how..”

He let out a soft chuckle and asked you to look back up at him. 

“It’s okay.” He said softly. “I can show you.” 

His hand moved to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing over it softly as he leaned back in. He moved slower this time, gauging your reaction to make sure you were okay with everything going on.

When he saw that you weren’t backing away, he finally pressed his lips yours. As much as he wanted to be patient, he couldn’t help but get a little carried away as he worked his lips against yours.

It wasn’t hard for you to follow though, and since you were too caught up in the moment, you weren’t bothered by the fact that you had no idea what you were doing. But since he wasn’t stopping, you didn’t let it get to you.

As the kiss progressed, you took the initiative to pull him closer, not missing how he smirked into the kiss before pulling away slightly. 

“It doesn’t seem like you don’t know what you’re doing.” He chuckled and you felt yourself blush. “You’re so cute,” He scoffed. “I can’t believe how dirty you really are.” He paused. “I wonder what else you’re hiding.”

You felt small under his gaze but it didn’t last long as his lips formed a smirk.

“How long were you hiding this for?” His eyebrow rose as he smirked at you. “And be honest.”

As much as you didn’t want to answer, you really couldn’t stop yourself from easily obeying.

“Only a c-couple months.” You spoke.

“And why did you start?”

You felt your face get more red, if that was even possible, and you looked away.

“Because of you...” You trailed off, not wanting to give the full truth this time.

“What about me?” He pressed.

“You make me..want you.” You whispered the last part and hoped to whatever higher power there was that he’d take it.

“Were you always like this?” He scoffed. “Acting all innocent and deep down you’re the opposite?” 

His words had you gulping and sinking into the chair you were in. 

“A brat, though?” He tsked as he remembered the video. “I can’t have that.” He sighed and he reached for your chin, slowly making you look back at him. “You’ll be good for me, right?” He said softly. “I don’t want to have to punish my little girl.”

You melted at the words, your stomach flipping in a mix of emotions you couldn’t pinpoint. You nodded and he only shook his head.

“Tell me.” He smiled. “Tell me you’ll be my good little girl.”

You looked at him and nodded again.

“I’ll be your good little girl.”

Surprisingly, the words didn’t feel foreign as you said them and the embarrassment wasn’t as bad as you saw him smile at you. 

“Then come on.” He said as he pulled away and turned to walk towards his bedroom, you following him a little too quickly.

“Come here,” He licked his lips as he sat on the bed, patting his lap.

You slowly walked up and situated yourself on his lap, still nervous but not as much as before. But just when you thought you were composed, he leaned in so his breath was fanning over your ear.

“I’m the only one who knows what a dirty girl you are, huh?” He scoffed and your breath hitched as he moved to press a kiss against your neck, goosebumps forming over your skin as he moved to press another one below the previous spot. 

“How badly you want me that you’ll listen to audios instead of coming to me.” He pressed another one. 

“Did you touch yourself to the thought of me saying those things?” He lightly nibbled on the spot he just bit. “Doing those things?” Another bite. “Answer me, baby.”

“Yes,” You whimpered out as his lips made their way to your shoulder. 

“Fuck, you really are dirty, huh?” He whispered as his hands moved to the hem of your shirt and pulled it over you before throwing it to the side. 

“God, you look so pretty.” He sighed as he took in the sight of you. “I just want to mark you up.” His tongue came out to swipe along his lips at the thought. 

“Seungyoun, please,” You whined, his words being too much for you. “I don’t wanna wait anymore.” 

“What do you want me to do?” He pulled away to look at you, the same smirk as before plastered on his face. “Tell me.” He bit his lip as his hands moved to play with your bra clip.

You completely ignored his question as your lips turned to a pout.

“What about your shirt?” 

“Only good girls get what they want.” He smiled. “Answer my question and I’ll take it off.”

Your brows furrowed but you didn’t argue.

“I want you to,” You paused. “T-Touch me..” You trailed off.

“Touch you where?” He whispered as he unclipped your bra, the sudden cold making you gasp. 

“Touch you here?” He cocked a brow as his thumbs moved to brush over your nipples before trailing to your lap and sliding under your skirt, his hands caressing your inner thighs. “Or here?” He asked again, his voice lower before they slid up, stopping at the hem of your underwear. “Or does my baby want to be touched,” He paused as he ran a finger up your clothed slit. “Here?”

You couldn’t stop the whine that came out as your face fell onto his shoulder as you nodded.

“Yes,” You breathed out. “Right there. Please,” Your hips rolled into his and he let out a soft chuckle as your neediness. 

“You’re so cute like this,” He cooed. “It makes me want to ruin you.”

You clenched around nothing at the words, your mind running wild at all of the things he could do to you. 

His finger moved to slide under your panties and he groaned at how wet you were.

“You really wanted this, didn’t you?” He bit his lip. “Or are you just easy?” 

“Seungyoun~~” You whined again as he traced a small circle on your clit.

“Shh, baby,” He smiled as his finger went down to your entrance before slowly slipping into you, groaning again at how tight you were. “We have to start slow.” He said as he started pumping his finger at a slow pace. “How else are you going to take me?”

His words were followed by a second finger and you let out a chocked moan against his shoulder, your hips rolling into his hand.

“Faster, fuck,” You moaned out as your hips moved faster against his fingers. 

“Who knew you’d be this needy.” He looked at you as he licked his lips, his fingers curling inside you. “I wonder how long you’ve been holding out on me.”

You couldn’t form any words to respond, too lost in your own world as you felt your stomach tighten.  

“Seungyoun, fuck,” You whined, your hands reaching out and balling the hem of his shirt in your hands. “I’m gonna cum.” You moaned out, your pitch higher as your head fell back.

“Look at me baby.” He encouraged. “I wanna see how pretty you look when you cum.”

You let out a whimper and slowly brought your head down, looking at him with hooded eyes.

“Fuck,” He groaned, curling his fingers again and watching your eyes close momentarily. “You look so good like this.”

His words threw you over the edge and you fell apart as your orgasm washed over you. But you couldn’t bask in it for long as he slowly slid his fingers out and fixed your panties.

“Open your eyes baby.” He whispered, waiting for you to look at him before taking his fingers into his mouth, his eyes staying on yours even when you looked away in embarrassment. 

“So sweet.” He cooed, softly, his fingers sliding under your skirt again to run over your now damp underwear, smirking when you shivered from the sensitivity. “All you had were my fingers and you’re already a mess.” He gave you an amused smile before continuing. 

“I can’t wait to see how you are when I finally fuck you.” 

[toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account]

Everything I Love About The Man From U.N.C.L.E (2015)

As its the 5 Year Anniversary of The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015) being released, I thought I'd compose a list of my favorite things about the film:

The Film

But seriously I actually made a really long list of things I love about it under the cut:

The opening credits

The exposition of Solo's character through Illya's debriefing

The exposition of Illya's character through Solo just calling out Everything about his past

THE CHASE

Rapid Flute Music

"He's trying. To stop. The car." "Why don't you take a shot at him?" "...Somehow, it just doesn't seem like the right thing to do."

Illya being rlly polite to the old lady whose apartment he goes through "Excuse me, dear. I just need to use your back door."

Henry Cavill In An Apron.

Solo taking his little cup off the table before Illya flips it and just looking up at him like ":)"

Gaby!!! I lov she

Ah, the classic "We Have To Pose As A Couple For Some Reason But We Develop Feelings For One Another" trope. Immaculate.

The entire Tension-Ridden conversation between Solo and Illya about women's fashion.

"It won't match." "...It doesn't. Have. To match."

The Nicknames

Cowboy.

Peril.

The whole scene where Illya's talking about the steps.

"Take it like a pussy >:)" "THIS IS NOT THE RUSSIAN WAY."

The entire scene with Tipsy Gaby and Illya

Her vibing in the bc while Illya is sulking is wonderful

The way Illya just let's Gaby lead him and take his hands bc She Is Adorable

she small.... and illya Big

(Well I'm not sure if she's short or if it's just that Armie Hammer Is Fucking Tall but that's beside the point)

"So you don't want to dance... but you want to wrestle." "I dId nOt sAY thAt-"

The a l m o s t kiss where she just fell asleep on him

Illya "I Chug Six Gallons of Respect Women Juice A Day" Kuryakin just carrying her to bed.

"...Goodnight little chop-shop girl."

And the way her pinky stays hooked around his fingers for a second... I'm soft 🥺💖🥺💖🥺

"These - are - Russian - made." "...One second." "..." "These - are - American - made. And very low tech." "...That bowtie doesn't go with that suit."

Illya's wearing a different tie in the next scene. He listened to Solo :)

"Oh... I left my invitation." *CHAOS HAPPENS* *solo pulls out his invitation and fans his face and pretends didn't start All Of That* "Whew! I wonder what they do to people without invitations :0!"

Solo just doing his sneaky thief spy thing at the party to impress Victoria

Illya Doing His Best around Gaby's Gross Uncle

The table trick!

"You put someone in the hospital." "He had soft bones."

THE ENTIRE SCENE AT THE SHIPPING PLACE I could make my own post abt that

But I wont

So

When Illya and Solo both see each other and are just like "...ok so we're doing this."

"You coming? I take top." "I'll take the bottom." AS IF I WASN'T ALREADY SHIPPING NAPOLLA CMON

*Illya almost gets them caught by taking too long with the lock* *solo does it and pulls him in* "Loving your work, Peril."

"Did you turn off alarm?" "Model 7010 doesn't have an alarm." *alarm immediately goes off* "...Loving your work, Cowboy."

The fact that Solo immediately jumps out the window after Illya because They Share The Brain Cell

(It's actually Gaby's)

Solo just being sent FLYING off the boat

("Napoleon Solo is made of GLASS.")

Him just relaxing and eating a sandwich as the Illya's entire boat scene happens in mirror reflections. Vibing.

He eventually goes and saves Illya bc That's What Partners Do

Illya checking the wiretaps he had on Solo to see if he needs help only to hear Noises of Intimacy and he and Gaby look at each other like 👀

The Tracker Scene where Illya reassures her (and it’s SOFT) and there’s some tEnSiOn before Napoleon “Cock-Block” Solo comes in like “All turned on?”

Solo realizing he got drugged and getting all comfy on a couch.

"I've been here before. Last time I fell rather badly and... hurt my head."

Illya swooping in to save Solo like a knight in shining armor.

The way he keeps a death glare on Rudi as he asks Solo if he’s doing okay. 

When Illya steps on the Shocky Zap Zap Pedal and shocks Rudi, and he sees how strong the shocks Solo endured were, and there’s a few seconds where he looks at Solo in horror when he realizes the kind of pain Solo was being subjected to before Illya arrived.

Ok that’s not one of my favorites I just really think about that one alot

Poor Napoleon :(

...Do you think he might have horrible anxiety when it comes to shocks? Even little ones from like... static or a faulty light switch or something?

We’re getting off topic

The entire bit where they’re trying to discuss what to do with Rudy, completely unaware that he’s dying behind them

The fact that Illya tells Solo he should decide what they do with him bc he was the one Rudi tortured

(...If I don’t find a post-movie hurt/comfort fic where Illya tries to help Solo process his Actual Torture From A Nazi War Criminal then I’ll make it mYSELF-)

The classy little song playing as Rudi Catches On Fire

“......Damn, I left my jacket in there.”

The split-screen transitions as the team got on Vinciguerra Island. (I also really liked these in The Factory Scene too)

Illya just THROWING A MOTORCYCLE at the dude who had Gaby.

Illya holding her and being rlly gentle 🥺

The entire jojo-esque explanation of how Solo outsmarted Victoria.

When he let's her keep their ring and they ALMOST kiss but get INTERRUPTED AGAIN-

The Almost-Final Scene where Illya goes to kill Solo and get the disc but Solo returns his watch and he decides not to. It's like... that one action is like the culmination of all the development those two had over the course of the movie and AAAAAA-

The sequel setup... v good now GIMME THE SEQUEL-

...wow typing all this just made me feel like I rewatched it. Maybe I should 👀

Anyway Happy 5th Anniversary TMFU! I'm incredibly grateful that I found out about this movie. It's quickly become a favorite!

[edendaphne]

“Discordant Sonata”- Ch. 15

Have some quarantine reading material!!

>>Read it here on Ao3<< >>Read it here on Wattpad<< 

CHAPTER 15: BRAVURA

Music glossary:       Bravura - (from Italian “bravery/spirit”) Style of music in which the performer plays boldly, requiring exceptional agility and technical skill in execution.

 (Mood music: “For the Love of a Princess” - James Horner )

Sunday Evening

Marinette knocked on the guest bedroom door, or rather, on Chat Noir’s bedroom door, as it had now officially become.

“Come in! It’s open,” she heard from the other side.

Marinette’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Odd, she thought. For someone who was supposed to be guarding a secret identity at all costs, one would think that Chat would always keep the door locked. First the “bathroom incident” and now this? She wondered what his aversion to locked doors was all about.

Marinette peeked her head into the room and saw him at his desk, writing in a notebook.

“Hey Kitt–uhh, Chat Noir, dinner will be ready in a minute. Would you care to join us?”

Chat’s cat ears perked up. “I’d love to! Thanks! I’ll help set the table in a sec.”

“What are you up to?” she asked, sitting at the edge of his bed.

Chat swiveled his chair around to face her. “Oh, it’s...” he grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck to ease the stiffness there. “I was doing some calculations, figuring out a monthly budget and that kind of thing. Trying to figure out how much all my bills will cost.”

“Me-owch,” Marinette cringed. “Sounds suuuuper fun.”

“Yeah, definitely,” he replied with matching sarcasm. “It’s actually been more complicated than I thought.”

“How so?” she asked.

He let out a long sigh. “Well… this is gonna sound weird, but my father as a civilian is, uh… pretty well-known. There’s a lot of people who would recognize me. Any potential employers would be getting in contact with him, asking him questions, or even give him an idea of where to find me. So I can’t apply to jobs as my normal self.” He ran his gloved hand through his hair in exasperation. “But where could I possibly get a job as ‘Chat Noir’?? ‘He’ can’t start a bank account, has no birth certificate, driver’s license, address, phone number. I’d have to get hired under the table, but I might run into some shady people. They might take advantage of the situation, and there’d be nothing I could do to contest them. Or they might try to use me to get free advertisement, and then my father would know where to find me anyway. Ugh, it’s all just a mess,” he groaned. “Anyway, thanks for letting me vent. I’m sure I’ll figure something out, so don’t worry.”

Marinette hummed, thinking. “Well, actually…” she said, tapping her chin. “Since the school year’s starting up again, a couple of our full-timers are switching to part-time to accommodate their university schedules; so the bakery will need some extra help. Obviously you wouldn’t be able to work at the front of the store, attending to customers and whatnot. But there’s still cleaning, washing, and heavy lifting that needs to be done behind the scenes. So if that sounds alright with you, we can talk to my parents about it. I’m sure they’d be happy to have you aboard.”

“Really??” Chat’s head shot up and he chirped excitedly, accidentally dropping his pen in the process. “Th-that would be great! I’ll work really hard, promise! Are you sure it would be okay?”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll say yes! My mom’s already taken quite a liking to you; she’s always talking about how polite and sweet you are.” Chat’s ears perked up and his cheeks reddened upon hearing this, which she found much too adorable. “And I’m sure my dad’s slowly coming around; I can tell, even though he’s stubborn.” She reached over and squeezed his hands. “I’ll put in a good word for you,” she said with a wink.

“You will?!” he replied with a laugh. “Best job reference ever!!” He hopped out of his chair, then bent over and wrapped her up into a tight hug. “You’re the best, Marinette. Seriously.”

She shook off her initial surprise and squeezed back, smiling wide.

“Anything for a friend.”

Dinnertime went over even better than Marinette had hoped. When the subject of a job was broached, Marinette’s mother took to the idea immediately and, citing the need for some extra muscle, eventually managed to win over her father.

Thus, they hired Chat Noir on the spot for part-time work, adding a few extra household chores in lieu of charging him rent. Marinette could hardly contain herself when she saw Chat’s face as he heard that; he looked like he’d won the lottery. And if anyone else had noticed how his eyes got misty and his voice began to quiver as he thanked them, nobody had mentioned it.

After dinner, Marinette invited Chat Noir upstairs to her bedroom, saying she needed help picking out the perfect outfit for her first day back to school. Truth be told, she really did need to choose an outfit; but it was mostly an excuse to hang out with him and serve as a distraction from his stressful circumstances.

Behind his cheerful smile and never ending stream of jokes, he always carried such a lonesome air about him. She’d never noticed it until that first night; the night they danced during the ballroom akuma attack. Or rather, she’d never allowed herself to open up to the possibility that he might be suffering. It would have made fighting him much more difficult had she known.

But as they swayed to the music that night, she could feel the melancholy in his voice, how it seemed to be yearning for more, and she couldn’t ignore it anymore.

It was shocking to her; mind-blowing, even. Not the same shock as one might get from a slap in the face, but rather like she’d woken up from a deep sleep. And yet, even then, she never could have anticipated how things would’ve unraveled from that day forward. They had come a long way, and there was still much more ahead of them.

In any case, he was sure to appreciate an evening goofing around with his new roommate, to get his mind off of both his superhero problems and his civilian worries.

“So, what do you think?” she asked as she peered into her closet. “Classy? Trendy? Girly? Vintage? Boho chic?”

Chat furrowed his brows, cocking his head in uncertainty. “I dunno… You’d look great in anything! Just close your eyes and grab something, and voila!”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “What if I grab my fuzzy, pink bathrobe?”

“You’d look great in that too! ‘Comfy chic’, the newest trend on all the cat- walks!” he grinned cheekily.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, you dork, be serious! I wanna look good!”

“But you already look good!” he said, lifting his arms and motioning up and down her entire length for emphasis. “You’d even look good in a burlap sack. I mean it! You’re really cute, Marinette! Besides, it’s not like you need to impress anybody. Everyone already loves you.”

She felt her cheeks warm up at the praise he gave so freely. “I-I… th-that’s sweet of you to say. B-but I wasn’t trying to fish for compliments or anything. I just… want to look a little extra nice. Maybe even stand out a little bit, that’s all,” she added more quietly, fiddling with the hem of her shirt.

Chat paused and forward on the chaise. “Hang on,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her. “Marinette... ARE you trying to impress someone? Someone special, maybe?”

Marinette made a startled noise that would best be described as a squawk and whipped back around to face the inside of her closet. “Uhh, NOPE! Nope, nope. Not at all! What makes you say that?!”

Wow, Marinette, very convincing, she groaned inwardly.

Despite her stammering and weak attempts at protesting, Chat exclaimed with a gasp, “So there IS someone!”

He hopped off the chaise towards her, trying to get a peek at her reddened face. “So who is it?? Would I know them? Are you in the same grade, or just the same school? Do they already know you like them? How did you two meet?”

Marinette let out a long screech, rushing away from the closet towards her vanity desk and plopped down on the chair, dropping her head onto the table with a small thunk.

Chat practically glided across to where she’d sat and put his hands on her shoulders, squeezing gently. “Our little Marinette has a crush on someone~!” he crooned in a sing-song voice. “That’s so romantic! You’ll invite me to your wedding, won’t you?”

Marinette let out another long, muffled groan, which only spurred him on, becoming giddy like a small child who’d been given a pile of candy.

He’s never going to stop now that he knows, is he? she bemoaned, cursing her inept, awkward self.

Foregoing any further attempts at denial, she decided to just be honest with him. After all, Alya knew about her crush, and so did her other gal friends. She could confide in Chat too; especially since they were going to be living with each other from now on. Surely there was no harm in him knowing. It’s not like he’d go around blabbing it to anyone. She knew him better than that.

She sighed heavily, not bothering to hoist up her head, which felt like it weighed as much as a boulder at the moment. “He’s a classmate,” she replied in deadpan.

“A classmate, huh?” Chat repeated, voice full of wonder. “That’s so adorable! What else can you tell me about him? Is he cute?”

“Gorgeous,” she replied, with perhaps more emphasis than she intended. “And thoughtful and gentle and kind. A little awkward and nerdy, but friendly and optimistic to a fault. He’s practically perfect. At least, perfect in all the ways that matter to me, anyhow. I’ve known him for a few years, and I’ve been in lov– I MEAN… I’ve had a crush on him pretty much since we first met.”

Sensing her shift in tone, Chat dropped all the playfulness in his voice and asked in earnest, “W-wait… D-did you say… in love?”

Marinette let out a long, pitiful whine, grabbing the hair by the sides of her head and covering her face with it like a tent, trying to hide her eternal shame.

“I can’t believe I just said that…” she moaned wretchedly, very much wishing she could shrink to the size of a mouse right now. “Can you just cataclysm me and pretend you didn’t hear that, please?”

“Wait, so that means…” Chat interrupted, his brows scrunched. “He doesn’t know how you feel about him?”

She shook her head, or rather, kind of shuffled it back and forth on the table’s surface. “I’ve always been too afraid to say anything to him. I never wanted things to become weird between us, so I’ve always just… not taken the risk. He always just kinda… seemed to need a friend more than he needed a relationship, y’know? And I didn’t want to take that away from him. From us.”

Chat paused for a moment, pondering her words. “But what if he feels the same way?” he countered. “Wouldn’t you rather get it off your chest and find out for sure?”

Marinette hesitated, turning her head sideways. “Have you ever liked someone you were too afraid to lose?” she replied quietly.

She could hear Chat’s breath hitch, but he didn’t respond. She wondered if that was something he’d been worrying about as well. He’d never confessed to Ladybug about his own crush; but was that merely due to shyness, or from not wanting to complicate their relationship and their duties as superheroes? Would he jeopardize it?

Chat was a romantic at heart; of that she was certain, judging from his taste in media and books, from their late night conversations, and especially from what Plagg had told her a few days ago.

However, despite his playful flirtatiousness towards her as Ladybug, he’d never verbally expressed any serious interest in a romantic relationship. She could only assume he wanted to keep things as friendly and professional as possible, in order to work on strengthening their relationship as a team, instead of risking a fallout.

Or, at least, that’s what she’d started to tell herself. Everything in her brain was a terrible jumble. Especially after hearing about Chat’s family situation the night before, after the akuma attack. Ladybug had finally learned about Chat’s mother, Hawkmoth’s wife, and things were way more complicated than she could have ever imagined.

Chat Noir had introduced a variable of unpredictability in her life, and she was still trying to sort out her own growing feelings towards him. Were these merely feelings of protectiveness, or was it something else? Had she been projecting her desire for Adrien onto Chat? She didn’t think so, and yet, she’d never experienced anything like this before. How could she know for sure?

Unrequited love felt awful, but at least it was fairly straightforward. Trying to figure out her thoughts and feelings when adding another person into the jumble was frustratingly confusing.

In addition, Hawkmoth’s cruel words from the akuma attack echoed in her head despite trying to dispel them countless times. They resonated within her, trying to worm their way into her brain to plant undeserving guilt and shame. Accusations of taking advantage of Chat; of blind infatuation; of festering doubts and lack of trust.

Not to mention the elephant in the room: the giant, seemingly impenetrable wall of having to hide their identities from each other, which prevented them from being able to grow closer.

Pursuing a romantic path with him right now would not be prudent.

Especially since she was still in love with Adrien.

UGH. She was in love with Adrien. Why had she allowed herself to fall for him?!? Why did he have to be so darn wonderful, so awfully talented, so ridiculously considerate?!

The uncomfortable feeling of embarrassment slithered down her spine once again, traveling all the way from her head to her toes. How could she possibly face Chat Noir now that he knew what a coward she was?

Moments passed and neither of them had broken the ice. She supposed she should be the one to do it, since she was the one that had made things awkward in the first place.

Before she could say anything, however, she felt Chat’s hands settle on her shoulders, and he gently pulled her up into a sitting position. He gazed at her reflection in the mirror, a kind smile painted on his handsome face that she couldn’t help but feel her face flush. His emerald green eyes were so piercing, so sincere, which caused a multitude of butterflies to swarm in her chest despite her having banned them.

Bringing his arms in front of her, he draped a colorful garment across her collarbones so it would cascade all the way down to her lap. Apparently she’d been too busy internally freaking out that she hadn’t even heard him rummaging around in her closet.

“How about this top?” he asked softly. “The cut of the neck will draw attention to your jawline, especially if you wear your hair down, so the sides can frame your facial features. And if you wear this necklace here-” he said as he lifted the accessory from her vanity table, “-it will emphasize your blue eyes very nicely. For bottoms, I’d either go with some dark-wash skinny jeans paired with low heels, or a skirt with a bright pattern and some close-toed flats. Keeping it simple is best, in my opinion. Clean and sophisticated.”

Wait… what?? How did he–

Marinette hadn’t even noticed her jaw had dropped until Chat closed it gently with his index finger, her teeth coming back together with a soft clink.

“You should ask him out. This mystery person,” he added. “You never know what’ll happen. He’ll either like you back, or he won’t. But at least you’ll know, and whatever happens afterwards, it’ll mean you can move on.”

She held the shirt in place with her own hands, but never broke eye contact with him through the mirror. “Would you do the same?” she asked quietly.

Chat looked away, cheeks darkening. He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed deeply. “Someday, perhaps. But… I’m not ready yet. Maybe once I become a better person. Somebody worthwhile.”

She turned around to face him, studying his expression. A weight settled uncomfortably in her gut, urging her to fix it, FIX IT!!

But fix what?! Fix it how?? She didn’t know; but she had to try regardless.

She stood up, setting the garment down on the chair, then practically stomped over to him. Chat looked a bit taken aback at how close she’d gotten, his eyes widening in confusion. She threw her arms around his torso, pulling him as close as physically possible without literally merging together. She laid her head on his chest, relishing the sound of his heart thumping in his chest.

“You dumdum. You’re already amazing. Anybody would consider themselves lucky to be loved by you.”

She felt him freeze up, unsure of what to make of this sudden and almost aggressive display of affection. But a beat later he relaxed, practically melting into her embrace and hugged back just as tightly.

He laid his own head on top of hers, a motion that still felt so comforting and so familiar; and yet she couldn’t figure it out. Whenever she would come close to making a discovery, the thought would slip away, as if by magic.

Or, come to think of it, most likely because of magic. His mannerisms and speech were so familiar, and yet she couldn’t place where she knew them from, or whom they matched up with. Chat had said that they knew each other outside of the costume, so surely that was why they felt so familiar. But the glamour of his miraculous was quite efficient in protecting his identity; therefore, despite teetering at the edge of her recognition, she still could not identify him. She supposed that was for the best, even if it was maddening.

“I wish I could believe that. I really do,” he murmured sadly, interrupting her train of thought.

She nuzzled her head into him. “Stop being so hard on yourself. Life doesn’t revolve around achievements or some arbitrary measurement of greatness. Being you is enough.”

“I... don’t really know how to stop thinking that way, to be honest,” he said with a shrug.

Marinette let go of him and took a small step back, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, it’s too bad you don’t have a choice, then. ‘Cause from now on, you’re officially enrolled in the Dupain-Cheng self-esteem boot camp, where you learn to be nice to yourself… or else, I’ll kick your ass!” she said, poking him lightly on the chest.

His eyes popped open for a moment, then he threw his head back and laughed. “I believe it!” he said, squeezing his arms around her once again. “I’ll do my best to meet your expectations and avoid all the ass-kicking, sensei! Bring on Du PAIN!”

She let out a snort and giggled, looking up at him from her lower height.

Her gaze softened once again, then added, “By the way... thanks for your help, and for your advice, Minou.”

Chat chuckled at the term of endearment, and Marinette’s brain froze.

How could she forget?? Again. She wasn’t Ladybug right now. Marinette didn’t have nicknames for Chat.

Before she could backpedal, Chat leaned down to kiss her forehead, then replied, “Anytime, Mari.”

She relaxed again and gave him one last squeeze, unable to contain a giant, satisfied grin.

She released him so she could return to the task of getting ready for school tomorrow. She asked, “Will it really be okay for you to go to school? Won’t it be risky, since your father will know where you are?”

Chat let out a thoughtful hum. “He’s a pretty powerful person, but even he can’t walk into the school and drag me out of there in front of everyone. I should be okay, as long as I’m always around other people.”

“Well… if you say so,” she said, crinkling her eyebrows. “You’ve got my cell phone number, so call me if anything ever pops up and I’ll be there in a jiffy, no matter where you are.”

Chat smiled at her fondly. “Thank you.”

She smiled back. “Come on. Let’s go watch a movie downstairs. It’s our last day to be certified couch potatoes and I’m not gonna pass it up.”

Chat winked. “Aye aye, Captain Spud! Lead the way!”

(Mood music: “The Chairman’s Waltz” - John Williams (Memoirs of a Geisha OST)

Monday Morning

Chat Noir landed on the roof of the school without a sound, eyes darting around the perimeter to verify that no one was present at this hour. Upon seeing that the coast was clear, he slinked towards the door that led inside the building.

He tried the doorknob. Locked, as expected. He detransformed, and without a word, Plagg phased through the door. It clicked, then Adrien slipped inside.

Heart thumping, he shifted his backpack and continued down the rooftop stairwell until he reached a hallway. It was empty, although that didn’t do much for his nerves. Getting caught on campus before the school opened would mean getting asked questions he would rather not have to answer.

Adrien wasn’t a rule-breaker. He was courteous, mild-mannered, and above all, obedient. He did things by the book. Or, at least... he did as Adrien . Chat Noir was another story altogether.

Trying to shake off his jitters, Adrien took a deep breath and tried to summon the playful part of him that enjoyed more mischievous types of activities.

There wasn’t much for him to do for the next couple of hours but to wait until people slowly trickled into the school. He decided to occupy himself by organizing his locker, so he stepped out into the common area from the dark hallway and carefully crept to the locker rooms downstairs.

As it turned out, it was a good thing he checked it before anyone was around, for the loud gasp he let out as he discovered its contents would have surely attracted the attention of the entire room.

Inside the locker was a duffel bag full of belongings– his belongings: his passport and birth certificate, his wallet, some clothes, his favorite blue scarf, a photograph of his mother; school supplies and stationary, a brand new laptop, and an indistinct burner phone.

There was no written note, no card, no name left behind. The only identifier provided was a picture of an black and red butterfly on it.

A butterfly? Surely this couldn’t be a gift from Gabriel Agreste. He’d never be this thoughtful, not in a million years.

He studied the picture, flipping it over for more clues, and found some small text on the back.

“Scarlet Peacock Butterfly”, the caption said. “A vivid red and black butterfly that ostensibly poses as another toxic species in order to deceive predators.”

Adrien gasped.

A fake.

Could it be…?

Adrien’s fingers trembled as he picked up the phone. It was an older model flip phone. He opened it.

It had a single phone number saved in its contacts.

He selected the number, fingertip hovering over the “call” button. With a shaky breath, he pressed it. And waited.

A few agonizingly long seconds passed. Then the ringing stopped; someone had picked up.

Adrien’s breath hitched and he gulped. He couldn’t help the crack in his voice as he whispered hesitantly into the phone.

“...Nathalie?”

(Mood Music: “L’Indifference” - Café Accordion Orchestra)

For once, Marinette Dupain-Cheng managed to make it to school on time, having set her alarm for an earlier time just to make sure. Tardiness always seemed to be her calling card, but she was determined to not let this happen today; not after all her preparations from the night before.

And so she walked into her first class, happy to see a room full of (mostly) friendly faces. Alya smiled at her from her desk across the room, waving her over enthusiastically. Marinette returned the smile and headed towards her.

She gave a wide berth to Lila and their teacher, who stood by the door. The new teacher listened, enraptured, about the stylish Italian girl’s most recent trip to the Malagasy islands and how she single-handedly founded a lemur rescue organization. Marinette fought the urge to roll her eyes and quietly passed them by, without challenging the validity of her claims.

Not today, she told herself. Not on the first day of school.

On her way towards her best friend, Marinette also walked past Chloe Bourgeois, her former bully. They made eye contact and gave each other a brief nod.

“Chloe,” Marinette greeted her plainly.

“Dupain-Cheng,” Chloe acknowledged in return, then turned her full attention back to her phone, vigorously texting someone with a dragon profile picture.

Marinette couldn’t quite call Chloe her friend, though they were definitely more than just acquaintances. They’d come to a sort of unspoken truce a couple of years back. They’d both done some growing up these past few years, and for that, Marinette was grateful. Especially since this arrangement made it possible for them to remain mutual friends with Adrien.

Marinette went up the steps to where her best friend sat, and they greeted each other with a hug.

“Hey, Alya! No Nino?”

“Nah, looks like we only have three classes together this year, bummer.” Alya shrugged. “But that means I get to sit next to my Mari-bean!”

Marinette noticed a markedly cheery-looking Adrien entering the classroom, only to be stopped by Lila at the door, who flipped her hair theatrically and batted her exaggeratedly long (and most likely false, hmmph!) eyelashes at him.

She decided to ignore it and turned around to fully face her wavy-haired friend. “So, how was your weekend? Did you and your aforementioned husbando do anything fun?” she asked with a knowing smile.

Alya’s cheeks darkened, but she tried to cover up her blushing by pretending to adjust her hair. “Well, we did get ahold of the new Super Pinguino III. You’ll have to play it sometime and try to beat our high score.”

Marinette giggled. “I dunno, that might be the one game where I’ll never be able to beat you.”

“Well, we’ll just have to see about that,” she gave her a wide smile in return. She exclaimed (rather loudly even by her standards), “By the way, Marinette! Your outfit looks AMAZING! Don’t you think so too, Adrien?”

Marinette’s eyes widened and she whipped around to realize Adrien was headed their way. Her face felt like she was sticking it inside a furnace, and suddenly she felt quite naked, wanting nothing more than to hide in a dark corner somewhere rather than display the outfit she’d meticulously chosen the night before. What if it was too much? What if she was overdressed? What if everyone could tell she was trying too hard? What if it was way too last-season and not avant-garde enough? Or what if it was too avant-garde and she should have dressed more conservatively?! What if–

Adrien’s eyes met hers and he gave her the brightest, broadest, most radiant smile, so stunning it should be illegal, so resplendent that it caused her brain to suddenly fizzle.

“Absolutely! You look beautiful, Marinette,” he said, his voice so earnest and sincere that Marinette felt she might combust on the spot.

Marinette wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing there, mouth agape, feeling like her feet were no longer touching the ground, when Alya nudged her with her elbow, coaxing her to reply.

And reply she did. Or at least, she tried; for only for a brief noise somewhere between a croak and a squeak managed to emerge from her throat.

“Uhh, I think Marinette means ‘Thank you,” Alya replied helpfully.

Marinette nodded enthusiastically. “Y-YES!! That’s right!! Th-thank you, Adrien!” she stammered, forcing the air out of her lungs.

Adrien beamed at her. “It’s great to see you guys again. I’m really glad we have our first class together this year. It’ll be a great way to start off the day.”

He waved goodbye to them, then walked to sit at the empty seat next to Chloe, who greeted him with a loud, happy squeal and friendly cheek kisses, then proceeded to talk rapidly about a subject way too complex for Marinette’s current brain-dead state of gleeful stupefaction.

And most definitely too dumbstruck to notice the daggers Lila was glaring at her from across the room.

(Mood Music: “Closer Than Sisters” - Abel Korzeniowski )

Marinette’s mind managed to rejoin her body sometime around halfway through their first period, and the remainder of her classes went by without a hitch. There was a lot of chatter and gossiping about Ladybug and Chat Noir, and whether they were actually working together or if it was some sort of elaborate publicity stunt. Conspiracy theories abounded, but for the most part it was merely curious conjecture. Ladybug had always worked alone, so what would this mean for the city? Would she finally defeat Hawkmoth now that she was no longer outnumbered?

Alya, of course, was utterly buzzing with excitement about these recent developments. Marinette wasn’t quite sure she’d be able to stand all her wild speculations and hypothetical questions; so it was both a shame and a relief that they only had two classes together this school year.

Despite the mental toll that hearing all these conjectures took on her, Marinette was still in high spirits by her last class of the day.

Or so she’d thought, until her absolute favorite classmate made her way over to her desk, giving her a sickly saccharine smile that would put high fructose corn syrup to shame.

“Hi, Marinette,” she lilted in a hollow sing-song voice.

Marinette brought out her phone and pretended to look busy. “Hello, Lila.”

“Did you have a nice summer?” Lila asked.

As if you care, she thought. “It was peachy,” Marinette replied curtly.

Lila pouted. “You don’t sound too happy. I don’t suppose you’ve already heard?”

Marinette sighed. Might as well play along. “Heard what, Lila?”

Lila leaned into her personal space, which made unpleasant goosebumps rise on the back of Marinette’s neck. “Well, I don't suppose you and Adrien are close enough friends that he’s told you all about his secret girlfriend, right?” she said more quietly.

Marinette’s brain screeched to a halt, but she forced herself to keep typing into her phone. “And I suppose he's told you?”

Lila giggled coyly. “Oh, well, I’m not one to blab secrets around, but the poor dear’s just not very good at hiding those hickeys. A scarf and concealer can only do so much, you know.”

Marinette felt sick to her stomach, but she refused to indulge Lila into thinking that she actually believed her.

“Go away, Lila,” she hissed through gritted teeth.

“Don’t believe me? I can prove it-” she replied, with that false cheerfulness that always carried a secret smugness to it. “-as soon as he walks through the door. He’s told me his schedule, you know… We really are very good friends, he and I.” She lifted her head to look around. “Ah, there he is.”

Adrien walked into the classroom with Kim, joking and laughing together.

Lila waved them over, and Adrien smiled as they both walked towards them.

“Adrien, I was just talking to Marinette about our plans for the school year. What does your modeling schedule look like?” she asked, as she thumbed the fabric of his scarf. “This is the year before we graduate. Is your father going to ease up on the photo shoots? I do so remember how very busy you were last year,” she lamented with another fake pout.

Adrien replied, his voice harboring a tinge of nervousness as she ran her hands up and down the length of his scarf, “Uh, actually, I won’t be- uh, modeling. This year. To… prepare for university exams and whatnot.”

“No modeling gigs, you say? That’s awfully kind of him,” she replied sweetly, as she slowly pulled back and forth on the two sides of the scarf like a seesaw. “Letting you focus on your studies and whatnot.”

Before he could reply, Lila tripped sideways with a dainty yelp, yanking the scarf along with her, and she fell towards him. Adrien caught her and she wrapped her arms around his neck securely, the scarf falling onto the ground, forgotten by all.

All except for Marinette, of course.

“Lila, are you alright?” Kim cried, and Adrien weakly echoed the question.

“Oh… clumsy me… I’m still getting used to these new shoes. I haven’t quite broken them in yet, you see,” she remarked as he helped her up. “I mostly wore combat boots over the summer while helping build schools in Bali for impoverished children, so I guess you could say I’ve gotten out of the habit of wearing heels.”

Marinette got out of her seat to retrieve the fallen blue scarf. The scarf that she had made for him almost four years ago for his birthday. Lila’s tugging had rubbed the fabric against Adrien’s neck, and the center was stained with make-up the same tone as his skin. She gulped heavily, then looked up at him.

And there they were, peppered all over his neck: various small bruises below the sides of his jawline, barely noticeable, but still visible if you looked closely.

“Umm, here,” Marinette said numbly as she handed him back the scarf. His hesitant eyes met hers, and he looked guilty, as if all his secrets had been laid bare for her to see.

“Thank you,” he said, almost too soft for her to hear.

“Why, Adrien!” Lila said, feigning secrecy but still speaking louder than she should have been, had that been the case. “I know you said you didn’t have to model anymore, but you really ought to tell your girlfriend to take it easy when you guys make out.”

Adrien sounded genuinely puzzled. “Wait… Girlfriend? What are you talking about?”

Kim’s features scrunched up in confusion. His eyes traveled towards where Lila was looking, then his face lit up with excitement. “Dude, you got a girlfriend?? That’s amazing, congrats! When were you gonna tell us??”

“Huh? I don’t have–” Adrien tried to interject.

“Oh, no! I’m so sorry Adrien,” Lila pretended to realize she’d said too much. “I didn’t know you wanted to keep it a secret. How silly of me! Surely your father would take away your extra free time if he knew you were spending it with a girl instead of studying.”

Kim pumped his arms excitedly. “Don’t worry, bro! We can totally keep a secret! Right, Marinette?”

Marinette smiled weakly, trying her best to look cooperative, and nodded.

“So, tell us about her, Adrien! Tell us about this girl you love so much,” Lila prodded.

Adrien’s cheeks turned bright red. “W-well, she’s not actually my girlfriend, b-but–”

Kim waggled his eyebrows. “But does she want to be?” he asked playfully.

Adrien laughed, voice high and skittish, “Uhh, I-I don’t know… Umm– w-we’ll see what happens. I-I want to take things slow.”

“Do you like her?”

Adrien’s head whipped around. It was Marinette who’d asked the question, her voice soft and curious.

Her eyes searched his, sincerely seeking the knowledge she both yearned and dreaded to hear. Her heart clenched painfully in her chest, knowing that his answer could change everything.

And yet, she needed to know.

Adrien’s face softened, the corners of his mouth crinkling with the ghost of a smile, and his cheeks gained a more subdued shade of pink, which contrasted with the embarrassed shade of red he’d worn earlier.

“A lot,” he replied breathily, like a wistful sigh, like he’d rather be with his loved one than anywhere else in the world.

Marinette swallowed heavily, and she forced herself to smile. “I’m happy for you,” she said as earnestly as she could manage.

After all, Adrien’s happiness was always paramount. No matter the source.

Their conversation was cut short by the sound of the bell, and the group scattered into the surrounding seats. Lila gave Marinette one last self-satisfied smile before walking away; not that Marinette even noticed. Her body felt too numb, too limp, too weary to see or care. All she could see in her mind’s eye was the way Adrien’s eyes lit up when he talked about the person he cared for. It had been brief, but it had been enough. She’d seen it. She knew now.

Adrien Agreste was in love.

(Mood Music: “No One Knows Who I Am” - (Jekyll & Hyde, the musical) Frank Wildhorn)

The last period of the day went by more sluggishly than any other she’d ever experienced in her life. Marinette’s mind replayed that conversation a seemingly infinite amount of times by the time the bell rang and it was time to go home. She lethargically packed up her belongings and left the classroom.

Before she reached the locker room, however, a hand gently tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned around.

It was Adrien. Of course. It just had to be him.

He meekly asked if he could talk to her in private. She agreed. They stepped into an emptied room, and he looked around to make sure no one else was present.

“I’m… sorry about the awkwardness from before, Mari,” he muttered uneasily.

“It’s okay, I’m just sorry you got put on the spot,” she replied, twisting her hands together, her shoulders tense with discomfort.

He seemed to squirm a bit himself as he continued, “D-did… Did you see…?” He gestured towards his scarf.

Marinette froze and her gaze dropped to the ground. She couldn’t get herself to speak, so she nodded.

Adrien took a deep breath. “W-would it be too much trouble if I asked you to not tell anyone? Things could get really difficult for me if- if people were to find out.”

Marinette’s head bobbed up and down quickly. “I-it’s okay! I won’t say anything! I-I don’t want to get you into trouble. Anytime you need help, I’ll be here.”

Before she knew it, she was being pulled into a brief hug. She willed her arms to hug him back, although she couldn’t really feel her body right now.

Adrien let go of her and put his hands on her shoulders in reassurance. “I promise everything is going to be okay. Everything is fine now. Trust me. Thank you, Marinette.”

Marinette’s mouth smiled back, and she heard her own voice say, “Anytime.”

Adrien thanked her again, and opened the door to leave. “See ya tomorrow.”

“S-see you,” she called back.

The door closed behind him, and Marinette was left alone. Everything felt like it was steeped in a thick haze. As if she was stranded in a vast fog with no discernable way to go. She felt hollow, yet heavy, which didn’t make a single bit of sense. A gaping, empty hole where her chest was, ripped away suddenly and without warning.

Is this... is this what heartbreak feels like?

Chat landed on Marinette’s balcony and knocked on the hatch five times, as they’d previously agreed. He listened for any of the code phrases or sounds that they’d gone over and practiced. There was no answer, which could only mean that she wasn’t home yet. However, since the latch was always unlocked for him now that they were roommates, he had permission to enter.

He felt pretty silly wearing a backpack as Chat Noir, so he didn’t dally in her bedroom, and instead went to drop it off in his own room.

Chat wondered what could be going through Marinette’s head after she saw his bruising. Had she figured out that Gabriel was abusive? She’d agreed to trust him, so maybe she believed he’d been able to work out his home situation. Did she think he still lived back at the mansion?

He plopped face down on the sofa. UGH, this all sucked. He didn’t want to lie to her, but he couldn’t tell her the truth, either. She was the nicest girl, and all he’d been doing lately was be dishonest with her. Not without reason, but still. He felt horrible about it.

And she’d looked so out of it at the end of school. He wondered what might have happened to her, since she’d seemed in such high spirits at the beginning of the school day. And what was that weirdness with Lila all about?

He didn’t have to wonder long, because a few moments later, his cat ears perked up as he heard footsteps that led to the front door. He sat up and turned around, excitedly awaiting her arrival.

Marinette opened the door and entered the living area. She closed the door and silently set her backpack down. He got up to greet her, but something was wrong. Her whole aura was different. Even in the dim late afternoon light, Chat could see the weariness in her expression, the sadness in her posture.

“Mari…?”

Several long strides later and he was there, in front of her, holding her by the arms.

“Mari, what happened?!” he asked more urgently. “Are you okay??”

She looked up at him, her glassy blue eyes becoming damp. Then she crashed into him, gripping him like he was the only thing keeping her from sinking into a sea of quicksand.

She cried, and he held her. He was desperate to know what had happened, but he waited, stroking her hair, running his fingers through it soothingly, not pushing her, but always willing to listen.

Finally, after a few moments, she spoke. “There’s someone else,” she whispered simply.

Then he understood.

Chat held her, and she sobbed quietly, and together they slumped to the ground. She didn’t need words of comfort, or any reassurance that she didn’t need this guy, or to be told that she was too good for him, or that there were other fish in the sea. She didn’t need to be told any of those things. All they needed at this moment was each other. And that was enough.

[auxiliarydetective]

Writer's Month - Day 23: truth | arranged marriage

More The Orville! I tried to keep it as spoiler-free as possible. The dialogue and plot are partially taken from the episode "Identity - Part 2" but there should be no spoilers on the larger conflict and twists.

TW: t-rt-re meantion, d--th penalty mention, other slightly disturbing things

Raevyn sat on one of the crates in the Shuttle Bay, her knees pulled up to her chest. Hidden underneath her jet black hair was a thin device like a headband, only visible at the points where it was attached to her temples. Her thoughts were spinning from the silence. Over 300 people were in this room, yet she could not hear a single thought. This was torture.

Bortus was pacing around in frustration. “I do not understand”, he said sharply. “Why do they keep us here?”

“They already have the ship”, John said. “Why don’t they just kill us?”

“They need us for something”, Ed said with a sigh. “The question is: For what?”

“Raven, what can you tell us?”, Kelly asked.

Raevyn stayed silent. She stared emptily onto the ground. Gordon poked her gently in the side.

“Hello…? Bridge to Raven, do you read?”, he asked, trying to make her smile.

But Raevyn still only stared. She was too overwhelmed to answer. Nothing was right anymore. John got up from his crate and kneeled down to be in her line of sight.

“What’s wrong?”, he asked. “Is it that weird device?”

Raevyn nodded slowly. Immediately, John’s face turned into an upset frown. He looked at the other members of the bridge crew who had been on the away team with her

“Who put that on her and for what reason?”, he asked severely. “What does it do?”

“There was this man”, Ed said, his voice sounding slightly anxious. “He seemed to know her. She was more or less calm all throughout the confrontation. Even when she saw him, she wasn’t shocked. But the moment he placed that thing on her, she… I don’t even know how to describe it.”

“It was like flipping a switch”, Kelly continued. “As if she had been hit with a taser, but we all know that’s not possible.”

Finally, Raevyn took a deep breath.

“It blocks telepathy”, she said weakly. Immediately, all eyes were on her. “An ancient Tehiko torture device that hasn’t been used for centuries.”

Silence spread over the bridge crew. Carefully, Gordon moved his hand over to Raevyn’s and locked a finger with her.

“Does it hurt?”, he asked hesitantly.

Raevyn shook her head. “No. Not directly. It just… I don’t even know how to explain it to you. You don’t know what being a telepath feels like.”

“You can make an attempt, Commander”, Bortus suggested.

“Well… Imagine this situation right here. Not necessarily the whole being locked up thing, but just being in a room with many people. You can hear lots and lots of voices. Everyone is talking. It’s never really quiet. That’s what it sounds like for me in my head, every single day of my life. That’s what telepathy is like. Now imagine that’s what your life has been like for over 27 years. But suddenly, everything goes quiet. All the voices disappear.”

“Oh god”, Kelly gasped. “I’d be terrified.”

“Exactly. That’s why it’s considered a torture device. It doesn’t hurt you physically. The sole purpose of this thing is to break your mind. To make you weak, so they have an easier time getting the answers they want. In this case, they want the future. They know that they must have not succeeded in their plan because of my very existence and the circumstances under which I came to this timeline. So now they want to fix those mistakes and if they succeed, the entire planet Earth, hell, all biological life forms are done for.”

Ed thought for a while. “Who was that man?”, he finally asked.

“He’s my chosen one”, Raevyn said, sounding overly uncomfortable in the process.

“Your what?”

“My chosen one. Emotions and love are a very dangerous subject in my planet’s culture. You can’t really hide your feelings from anyone there. And so, so that everything doesn’t spiral in a chaos of betrayal and heartbreak, everyone on the planet gets their mate assigned to them at a very young age by a ritual that tests the telepathic bond between them and their suitor. The person they have the strongest bond with is their chosen one and they have to marry them. Adultery or any sort of cheating is punishable by death.”

Ed and Kelly looked at each other in terrified confusion.

“We really need to think harder about the members of the Union”, Ed said,

“Yeah, what ever happened to the Union moral code?”, Kelly agreed.

“Arranged marriage”, Gordon said in disbelief. “Forced by the government and punishable by death if you don’t play by the rules. That’s sick.

“Have you cheated on him?”, Bortus asked.

“No”, Raevyn said, taking no offense to the question, but growing more and more upset as she talked. “We never got married. I hopped on a Union starship before I turned 18 and never saw him again. I wasn’t getting married to a man I didn’t love just to obey society's rules when society was ready to chop my head off if I let my guard down at any time.”

“What do you mean… chop your head off?”, John asked disturbedly. “Like, literally?”

“Possibly. I did mean certain death.”

“Have you committed a crime?”, Bortus asked.

“Yes”, Raevyn said bluntly, anger and disgust boiling in her. “The crime was being born.”

A jolt went through Bortus. These words reminded him too much of the birth of his own child.

“How can being born be a crime?”, he asked, anger shaking up his voice.

Gordon’s insides turned upside-down. He knew what she was hinting at. The memories of that time she had saved him from drowning shot through his mind. The gills, the webbing… How ashamed she had been. Quickly, he took her hand and held it tight.

“I… I guess it’s time that I tell you the truth. I’m-”

Suddenly, Ty’s voice cut through the noise in the Shuttle Bay.

“I wanna see Isaac!”

“Ty!”, Doctor Finn called, running after her son. He was jolting towards the door.

“Isaac!”

Immediately, Raevyn jumped up from her box and sprinted to the door as well. One of the guards had taken hold of Ty.

[jasperwhitcock]

01. AN IMPOSSIBILITY

i stumbled upon a post you can read here from @bellasredchevy​ from like a year ago where she expanded on an au where bella & edward switch places where bella is a vampire in the cullen family and edward is a human. we’re all social distancing (or we all SHOULD be unless u have work so if ur out partying take ur ass home boo) so i had time to kill & i thought i’d write a chapter hehe.

It was an impossibility for me to have missed the presence of my adopted brother entering the room. What with my astute senses, my supernatural sensitivity to everything – the microscopic details of the book page’s porous beige paper, the length of his shadow stretching onto the floor beneath the novel in my hands, cast from the golden light of the hallway, the smooth, feathery finish of the paper under my frozen fingers, the whooshing sound of air caressing his mountainous stature as he appeared, the soft yet heavy thud of his feet against the floor – a sound nearly imperceptible, the impossible to place scent of something like bergamot, white cedar, rose, and sandalwood perfuming the room at his appearance. An impossibility, and yet, my focus was so invested in the words inked on the page, enamored with a story I’d read a hundred, a thousand, a million times, that I found myself shocked when the novel surprisingly ripped down the spine into two perfect halves before my eyes, another one of my novels that he had plucked off the shelf barreling towards my face. He had thrown the other book with such force that in the process of his attempt to grasp my attention, he knifehand-striked a book I had taken from my mother Renee’s sad little toilet-reading, bathroom basket collection of a library.

I was on my feet hunched towards him infinitesimally, the book that had been less than a centimeter from crashing into my face tenderly clutched in my right hand, my lips pulled back over my teeth to let out a snarl. The right half of the original novel I had held fell onto the floor with a thump a moment later. He stood crouched as well, a wicked smile spread on his lips, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He loved provocation – eliciting this kind of response in me fueled him. A fight with some authentic irritation, a fight with an edge.

“Time for school, baby sister,” He raised an eyebrow, inviting the challenge.

“Emmett,” I hissed through my teeth, tensed to launch myself at him. Part of my mind sifted through a dozen plans of attack, strategizing what would be my most successful method of taking him down since he was pretty much insurmountable. He had all the strength and all the size. Stealth would be my greatest chance. Another part of my mind pulsed with irritation, an irrational, furious mood swing sweeping over me. The kind of emotional response only our kind could experience...or handle. I nearly saw red as the rest of the words flew through my lips. “Couldn’t you have told me that without destroying a priceless artifact of my human life, big brother?”

I made the name sound like a curse word.

“Artifact?” Emmett snorted. “Please. How many times have you read that same damn story in the past few years? I did you a favor,” he smirked as he feigned right and left so fast that it was as if he hadn’t moved at all.

I tensed to hurl myself forward at the opportune moment before a tsunami tide of calmness washed over the room along with an earthy aroma of citrus, patchouli, musk, and leather. “We really should be leaving now,” my other adopted brother Jasper murmured in his lightly southern accent as he appeared.

“Restricting as it may be, vehicles only allow up to a certain speed, and Esme wouldn’t like for us to be late,” my tiny sister materialized by his side in a blur of porcelain skin and inky black hair. “Although, maybe she’d get a kick out of a call home for tardiness,” Alice laughed, a sound like windchimes. “I can tell you who would have won or you could have your fight later.”

“Ugh,” Emmett groaned in disappointment, dropping his stance. “It’s so hard to get her that riled up. Fuck!” He complained, grumpily disappearing from the room in a flash.

“Later,” He promised under his breath from the garage.

“You would have won,” Alice mouthed, her beautiful lips stretching into a secretive smile as she winked. She picked up the other half of the novel I had purposefully dropped to catch the meteor Emmet had propelled, tossing it in the air towards me in one fluid motion.

I grinned to myself, gently tucked the other book back into its rightful place on the shelf across the room, and caught the ruined piece before it hit the ground. My face immediately dropped into a frown as I analyzed both halves. Fortunately, Pride and Prejudice was not beyond repair. I could mend the division by sewing it back together down the spine later. I set the injured book down and flew downstairs not a moment later. As I passed my adopted mother on the way to the door, I pecked her on the cheek before exiting the house and sliding into the dark leather backseat of the pearly white car next to Alice. Without checking the mirrors, Rosalie sped out of the garage as soon as the door lifted enough for us to clear.

The trees outside the windows were a green haze as we flew by, our speed only decreasing when we arrived in the main part of town among other drivers. We could have ran to school much, much faster – and thus not had any concern about tardiness – but without our cars for appearance, our show might prove unconvincing. It wasn’t abnormal to walk to school in the unrelenting pouring of rain in our small town of Forks, Washington. However, though few people in town knew the location of our home, perhaps the front office ladies might find it concerning that a group of teenagers trekked a half marathon to their classes. It was unlikely they’d care to look up the address from our files, but we were never too cautious. 

I liked running. I had been characterized as very clumsy in my human life, so it was a welcome change to feel graceful and coordinated. It was a welcome change to feel powerful. It was, however, unwelcome to participate in the daily charade of masquerading as exactly the opposite of that. As much as I had enjoyed my afterlife, I loathed the same thing many teenagers did, a hatred that may be my greatest commonality with the humans that surrounded me.

High school. I didn’t mind school prior to my immortal life. I had been decent and even above-average in most subjects. I had been a responsible, diligent, and quiet seventeen year old: I paid attention, I completed assignments in time, I spent most of my time in solitude which allowed me ample time to study. There were subjects I enjoyed far more than others that kept things interesting enough for me. Unfortunately, after a number of graduations, high school lost any potential interest and became something of a purgatory. Even classes like English lost their charm over time. Once you had spent years studying literature from the greatest professors, scholars, and writers both living and dead, it was immensely rare for a small town high school English teacher to offer a new take that would make my attendance worthwhile.

Attending high school provided us with the opportunity to remain in one place longer, so complain as much as I want, I suppose it’s something to fill the endless amounts of time. Still, that didn’t make the obligation any more tolerable.

Rosalie hummed along to a song playing quietly through the speakers while Emmett sulked in the passenger seat over having missed out on a fight. I smiled, a bit smug. On the other side of Alice occupying the middle seat, I sensed Jasper’s head jerk slightly in my direction to see the expression that reflected my slight change in mood. I shook my head, still smiling, and he smirked a bit himself before returning his attention back to his window. His scarred hand traced affectionate circles onto Alice’s hand in her lap, and she stared forward, her unfocused eyes seeing not what was in front of her, but the potential realities of the future.

They were a gifted couple. We become immensely enhanced when we’re transformed from being human, and as a result, some immortals are equipped with a special gift on top of their already unparalleled supernatural senses. Our creator and father figure Carlisle theorized that our strongest traits from our human life develop in even stronger ways once we’ve been changed. Jasper’s influential nature flourished into a skill of sensing and manipulating the emotional climate of those around him. Alice’s gift was even more unique. She could see into the future. We didn’t know what in her human life this had developed from. Her past is a secret to not only us, but Alice as well.

I too was gifted. For some time, we had no idea until I had met our cousins. In Denali, Alaska, there was another coven similar to us not just in kind but in diet and ideology who we considered extended family. Another commonality we share is that they also have gifted immortals among their coven. One of the only males, Eleazar’s, gift was sensing the abilities of other vampires, and he had detected my ability. He revealed, to all of our surprise, that I was something called a mental shield. It’s a talent of blocking out any powers that could invade my mind, and it is absolutely, entirely useless to me. I didn’t have a need for this kind of protection. My gift was a complete waste.

The drizzling rain was picking up into a steadier shower as we pulled into the small parking lot of Forks High School. Scenting the earthy, fresh stormy air was the tempting fragrance of the students’ pulsing blood as they ran for the dry cover of the maroon brick buildings. I was entirely satiated from my most recent hunt. Still, my throat burned with the slight dryness that would never completely go away. Jasper sighed.

There were only a few late stragglers hurrying from their vehicles towards their classes that could potentially see us, but as Rosalie parked, we moved at the frustratingly slow pace of the humans around us as a precaution. No risks. After exiting the car, Alice tossed me my backpack of useless school material from the trunk. I slid one strap over my shoulder and departed from my siblings for my first class.

The rest of the morning dragged along like a slow, drawn out sigh. I spent most of the time in my classes thinking of ways I could reorganize the book shelves in my room again. By genre, by author name, by theme, by year published, by year the story takes place, by favorite author, by alphabetical order of the location the story was set, by date of author’s death, by favorite to least favorite protagonist, by which accumulated the most pieces of literary criticism, by section that each family member might enjoy the most, by order in which I first read each, by order of which I read most to least, by order of which my family had read most to least, by alphabetical order of the antagonist’s name, and by which was least to most realistic were all ways I had structured my personal library in the past few years. I was toying with the idea of organizing by order of the birthday of the first character introduced, but a lot of the birthdays had not been established throughout the plot. I would have to decide where they would fit throughout the year based on which zodiac sign I might consider them to have depending on their character traits. Not that I held much stock in astrology – horoscopes did me no good when I had a future-telling sister.

The only difference in this day than any other day was that the trivial gossip I unintentionally overheard throughout the hallways concerned a new addition to the student body. This stirred up a lot of interest seeing as the majority of the children here knew each other for the entirety of their lives. What I had gathered in passing was that it was a junior boy named Edward Masen from Chicago who had recently moved from living abroad with his family. The girls were very excited – they considered him a very attractive potential new love interest. Attractive, though those who had been brave enough to speak to him found him to be impenetrable despite his charm. I wondered what the boy would make of me and my family.

I joined my siblings at our lunch table, the farthest table from everybody else in the room. In front of each of us was the prop of a lunch tray piled with unappetizing food. Alice sat, staring forward with empty eyes again, living in her own ever-changing reality. Jasper and Emmett made a hacky sack out of an apple and subtly kicked it back and forth in the air beneath the table, the apple moving too fast for human eyes to detect. Rose twirled a piece of her golden hair around in her hands, disinterested. Her thoughts were clearly elsewhere. As were all of ours. Occasionally she participated in their game by intercepting the apple with her foot.

“The new student’s going to ask about us in approximately fifteen seconds,” Alice chirped, her face returning to the present.

Emmett chuckled quietly.

“What will be said, and how will the boy respond?” Rosalie asked, her foot sending the apple reeling toward the ceiling.

Alice caught the apple in her slender, white hand before tossing it back to Emmett to end the game. “No different than anything else that’s been said, and no different than anybody else.”

I scanned the cafeteria to find the new student, so I could place a face to the upcoming conversation I’d be listening in on.

My eyes locked with a pair of soft green eyes set in a pale, angular face beneath an untidy mess of strange bronze hair. I looked away immediately but caught the beginning jolt of shock lighting up those surprisingly wise eyes.

“Who are they?” The boy gasped. So it had been my gaze that brought Alice’s vision to life. No doubt he’d immediately recognize the subtle differences that distinguish our kind from his. Emmett and I exchanged a glance, laughing under our breath as another junior student I recognized as Naomi Parker provided the common knowledge of the strange Cullen children. The story was complicated. In Forks, the explanation for our family was that Carlisle had adopted his twin niece and nephew, Rosalie and Jasper Hale, after the unexpected passing of his much older half-brother. Similarly, after a tragic car accident took the lives of Esme’s parents in addition to her aunt and uncle, she took in her younger siblings, Emmett and I, along with her niece Alice to look after us. Bonding over the shared experience of so much responsibility so young, Carlisle and Esme eloped, and we formed one giant, misshapen family.

Instinctively, I caught the apple in my hand just as it nearly turned into applesauce by means of collision with my stone face. I snarled at Emmett’s hysteric expression, hiding my hand from view so that anyone watching would have missed the entire catch. “Would you quit doing that today!?”

Rosalie shot Emmett a disapproving look. He shouldn’t be so irresponsible when we were clearly on display for the new Masen kid. I shot a minute glance towards his table to make sure they were no longer watching us. The boy seemed to be focused on the information he was receiving.

“This,” I snarled, sneakily disintegrating the apple into a pulp in my hand below the table where the humans couldn’t see, “will be what happens to you at home.” I made a show of letting the mush slide off my hand onto my tray.

My brother guffawed, and my other siblings joined in the laughter.

“In your dreams!”

I couldn’t help but laugh as well. I also couldn’t help but feel the intensity of watching eyes.

“Who’s the girl with the really long dark hair?” The soft, low voice of the boy asked quietly from across the room.

Reflexively, my eyes met his stare once again. He looked away quickly.

“That’s Bella. She’s insanely beautiful obviously, but if you’re thinking about trying to talk to her, forget it,” Naomi shrugged.

Once lunchtime was over, we disbanded to head off to the last half of yet another monotonous day. On my way out of the cafeteria, I purposely bumped into the trash can for Emmett’s benefit as he and Rose followed close behind. The action was a little more violent than I intended, and the plastic container bent slightly at the force.

“Oops,” I bit my lip to keep from smiling as he erupted into laughter. Upon our move to Forks, it had become something of a joke between Emmett and I for me to feign clumsiness. I didn’t participate in this joke daily, but every once in a while I’d sprinkle in an elaborate fall for his sake.

When I reached my junior level Biology class, I settled into my seat at the lab table I shared with no one. I laid the books devoid of any information relevant to me out on the table, and propped an elbow on the surface to hold my head up in my hand, awaiting the oncoming tedium. 

The room filled as students returned from lunch. I paid them no attention, my eyes fixated on counting the snow-like particles of chalk dust floating in the air likely from Mr. Molina writing on the board prior to the end of lunch.

“Ah, welcome, Mr. Masen! We’re so glad to have you join us. You can take the seat next to Miss Cullen,” I looked up to find the biology teacher pointing in my direction. Next to him was the new boy. Standing up, he appeared very lanky – several inches taller than our teacher – though his physique was still slightly muscular.

I pulled the books closer to my side of the table to make room for him, feeling bad that he had the misfortune of being assigned the seat next to me. He would probably feel more comfortable anywhere else. Not only because I didn’t go out of my way to interact much with my classmates, but because their long-buried survival instincts told them what their brains didn’t totally understand: we were dangerous.

I had never been more dangerous than I was in that moment. Because after the Masen kid politely thanked the teacher, he turned down the aisle, directly in front of the heated airflow that blew towards me.

His scent washed over me like the most vicious, violent wave, a wall of unrelenting water in a heavy thunderstorm in the middle of the ocean, drowning me, taking me down, down, down, further and further away from the traces of humanity I had once clung to.

In every direction of this blackest of depths, there was no escape that could lead me back to the light; I resurfaced as the monster I pretended not to be.

The sweet enticing smell of Edward Masen’s blood compelled my throat to rupture into a burning, aching fire. I had never been ablaze with such need. My mouth was pooling with venom as my prey approached. Since he spoke, he had only taken another step forward. He would not take another.

As my muscles begged for the release that would send me springing forward, stealing the first life of my existence, those sage eyes glanced at me, widening in bewilderment at the vicious expression contorting my features.

With great difficulty, I emerged from my horrible, repulsive compulsion. The look on his face was enough to spare him another moment.

His scent perfumed the air around me; I was encompassed in this irresistable cloud of bloodlust, eager to leap up and put an end to this unexpected torture.

In all my years of immortality, I had never experienced a desire this overwhelming. I had never been so vulnerable to committing this kind of atrocity. My record was clean. With guidance, I had been able to restrain myself from the temptation of human blood. Of course, instinct is not easily fought. Sometimes the abstinence was painful. But never like this.

A dozen scenarios on how to kill this poor human boy crossed my mind, and I combatted every single one with the last miserable shred of self control I had left. I had never exerted so much effort. The toil was something hazily reminiscent of human exhaustion, weighing heavily onto me.

I had no choice but to end his life. There was no other way.

He awkwardly settled into the seat next to me, aware of some unknown hostility, but unaware of the ferocity raging within, unaware of the way his blood sang to me, inviting me in, inviting me to betray all my years of discipline, effort, and tolerance. Inviting me to betray my family.

Despite the absolute consumption, by some miracle, I resisted.

I desperately clung to the thought of my family. Rosalie. Esme. Carlisle. Alice. Emmett. Jasper.

They loved me. They would forgive me for this detestable, inexorable act. They would understand. They wouldn’t harbor any judgment.

But how could I let them down in this way? Everything about who we are, everything about what unites us and bonds us is intricately traced back to the compassion that rules over our lives. It’s what makes us different from others of our kind. It’s what allows us to retain some remnants of the humanity we’ve lost. So just as I’ve done before, I would withstand human blood now. No matter the agony that accompanies the resistance.

I took one last deep breath. The scent washed down my throat, burning me alive from the inside out.

I wouldn’t dare to breath for the next torturous hour. It was uncomfortable to forgo the sensation, but the consequences that would follow if I did breathe had far worse implications.

Could I last that long? What was I trying to prove? Was the possibility of a lapse in the best of my judgment worth not succumbing to the honest truth – that I had more weakness in the face of human blood than I thought?

Perhaps Emmett might make fun of me. Perhaps Jasper might secretly appreciate someone else struggling more than he did. But Carlisle and Esme wouldn’t see any weakness in leaving. They’d be proud of me for making this decision. They’d understand.

The last of the students were arriving from lunchtime. Now was the greatest opportunity to escape without drawing too much attention. In my peripheral, I saw the boy open his mouth to begin to speak to me.

If I didn’t leave now, I never would. My resolve was slipping away with every thud of the boy’s heart.

I got up and walked to the front of the classroom a little too fast.

“Mr. Molina?” I asked, my voice tight. The biology teacher looked up from a lesson plan he was reviewing, his eyes startled as he registered my face. I heard his heartbeat pick up from the surprise.

“I’m feeling a little... unwell. May I be excused?” I utilized the last of my breath, hoping the subtle begging in my voice didn’t prompt more questions.

Mr. Molina recollected himself, his eyebrows pulling together in slight concern along with confusion. The Cullens were never sick.

“Of course, Miss Cullen. Do you need a nurse’s pass-” He began before I cut him off, resentfully taking another tormenting breath. The scent sent my mind reeling. I fought for coherency in my thoughts.

I didn’t need to work to put on a show; I probably looked pale and sick enough.

“No thank you,” I spoke quickly, desperate for the relief of fresh, untainted air.

“Alright, then. I hope you feel better-” I was out of the room before he could finish the rest of the statement. The bell for class rang. The hallways were empty, so I risked the charade and began to move at an inhuman speed around the corner. Only when I had exited the building did I allow myself to breathe again. I gasped, nearly choking on the mouthfuls of clean air when I reached the car. My head was still spinning as I climbed into the drivers’ seat. I gave little thought to worrying if my quick movements in the classroom would reveal too much. I hoped that the students were too focused on finishing up their leftover conversations from lunch to notice. 

With a jolt, I realized I was not alone in the car. In the passenger seat sat my tiny sister.

“Bella?” She asked, her pitch-black eyes unable to convey the concern that was etched on the rest of her pixie-like features.

“Alice,” I breathed. I had been so distracted with my own thoughts I hadn’t even paid any attention to the proximity of the familiar vanilla and jasmine fragrance of her skin. What was wrong with me today?

“Are you alright? I saw…”

I winced, knowing what she must have seen.

“I’m fine. I just… I-... I don’t know what happened…” The words flew rapidly out of my mouth.

“Do you need help? Should I grab the boys? Or would you like to leave-”

“No! No. It’s really not...a big deal. I’m just going to… I promise I’m fine. I won’t go back there-” I gulped, the venom filling my mouth as I even considered returning to the class where he sat. Alice’s eyes widened, so I stopped the thought in its tracks. “Rosalie has a free period right now. I think I’ll go find her. I’ll see you when school is over.”

I reached for the door, turning away from her, shame filling me, making me unwilling to face her any longer. Her slender hand grabbed my other wrist, pulling me to a stop. “I’ll come with you.”

“Don’t. I’m fine, Alice!” I pulled my hand away too defensively. Regret replaced the shame for a moment. “Sorry.”

I left her alone in the car, feeling guilty.

I knew it was risky to utilize my sense of smell, but following the sweet, warm aroma of orange blossom, marshmallow, and roses – and avoiding anywhere remotely near the science wing – I found my other sister alone in an empty classroom. Now that it had been distinguished from the rest, I could still smell the boy, but with more distance between us, I fought the temptation off.

“You’re not in class?” She asked as she typed into a computer, her back turned to me. It looked as though she was searching for some car parts. Even though I helped her in the garage sometimes, after all these years I was still no better at identifying anything related to automobiles.

“Rose...” I began, before stopping short, unsure of what to say.

She turned around in an indiscernible millisecond, her breathtaking face worried at the tone of my voice. “What’s wrong?”

She reached for me consolingly. Though I didn’t need the rest – I could stand still for hours on end and never feel tired – I sat on the floor beside her chair, hugging my knees to my chest, my eyes fixated on the dust deep in the roots of the rough, outdated carpet.

Her silky hands smoothly brushed through my hair, patiently waiting for me to build up the courage to speak. It felt nice.

After a few seconds, she spoke up. “Bella, you’re worrying me.”

I sighed.

“I’ve never...struggled this way before,” I admitted, exasperated with myself.

I could see that she was nodding out of the corner of my eye, immediately understanding. “That’s nothing to be ashamed about, Bella.”

I didn’t need to see her face to know her perfect lips were set into a deep frown. She wasn’t lying to me, but I knew to her, this existence was everything to be ashamed about.

“I won’t pretend that I don’t find myself...repulsed with...well, what we are. That’s no secret to anyone.” Her musical laughter had a dark edge to it. “But I’ve spent enough time for all of us hating myself for the impulses we have and the tragedy of our existence. You needn’t be so hard on yourself. It’s alright to...” She trailed off, selecting different words. “We’ve chosen an abnormal path in this non-life of ours. The terrible consequences of what we are are normal” – her hands froze in my hair briefly saying the word – “so try to let go of the shame I know you’re feeling, though I don’t blame you for feeling that way.”

She paused for a moment before adding, “you know we won’t allow you to harm anyone.”

I bit down on my lower lip. I was glad I came to Rosalie. She didn’t think I was being overdramatic the way Emmett might have.

Though I deeply loved my mother from my human life, there hadn’t been much maternal guidance. We had a strong bond, but I was far more of the caretaker than she was. I had been very lucky in this immortal life. Esme treated me as her own daughter, and I became truly taken care of. Just as Esme became the most loving mother figure in all the ways that counted, Rosalie became the very best protective older sister. My life had no shortage of supportive femininity and womanhood.

I heard a springy, featherlight approach of fast footsteps.

“I told you not to follow me,” I grumbled.

Alice poked her tongue out at me as she entered the room and fluttered to my other side, joining my other sister in stroking my head. “You’ll forgive me. I didn’t want to be left out of a sister moment.” 

Her words brought half a smile to my face.

I closed my eyes, allowing myself to be comforted by Rosalie’s words and the soft feeling of my sisters’ hands in my hair.

Yes, it was undeniable what I was. I could never change the fact. But I could change the fate of this boy, and I could deny myself the instincts that identified me this way. I could deny myself Edward Masen.

[ambientstars]

Could we please get 12 from the prompt list? ❤️

“I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

Thank you for the request! It may not be what you had in mind, but I still hope you like it :)

Gif credit: @thelvadams

Note: everybody say it with me! Fluff fluff fluff angst fluff! I apologise for the sloppiness of this, but sometimes my brain just doesn’t cooperate yknow?

-  -  -

The streets were busy, filled with countless creatures and species, all bustling about in their daily commutes, market shopping and socialising.

The Doctor had taken you to a planet you couldn’t quite pronounce, promising colour and vibrancy from not only the people who lived there, but also the planet itself. The grass sparkled, clear like diamonds and shining brilliantly under the turquoise sun. The air tasted sweet, faint traces of sugary sherbet on your tongue every time you took a breath.

Beside you The Doctor rambled on about the planet’s history and the life forms that inhabited it, but her words went in one ear and right out the other, your focus too captured by the way the pavement beneath your feet hummed a tune with each step you took forward.

The strangers around you smiled, greeting each other politely as they crossed paths. The atmosphere felt welcoming and warm, inviting you deeper into the intriguing world you had been brought to.

To your left were stalls of different kinds, selling everything from odd looking food you imagined were types of fruit to livestock consisting of animals that talked and hovered and danced. On your right stood a tall and proud building containing restaurants of all kinds of cuisines, all of them unfamiliar to you, it’s walls covered with glorious art, colours you’d never seen before enveloped each brick right to the edges.

Out of all the places The Doctor had taken you before, this was by far the best. Here you felt calm and delighted, and with so much to see and explore, you never wanted to leave despite the fact that eventually your real home would be calling you back.

“And that’s why they call it the-“ The Doctor stopped dead in her tracks, her arm reaching out in front of you as a signal for you to also stop walking. “Do you hear that?”

“No…” you listened out for something, anything that seemed out of the ordinary. But it was so busy around you, voices and laughter filling your ears, it was hard to make out just what The Doctor was talking about.

“Listen.” She twirled on the spot, focussing her ears in different directions until she narrowed down the location of the sound she was hearing.

“Doctor, I don’t hear-“

She took off running before you could finish your sentence. You forced your feet to chase after her even in your moment of confusion. “Doctor, wait!”

She continued running quicker than you’d ever seen her run before, darting from left to right, in between stalls and pushing past pedestrians in her way, mumbling a sorry to them as she stayed in motion.

Your legs began to cramp up, your chest heaving for a proper breath. You kept up as best as you could, almost losing her in crowds a few times, but ultimately spotting her in a different spot not even seconds after and following in the seemingly uncoordinated and unplanned path.

She came to a standstill once again and you almost crashed into her in surprise, your breathing laboured, but hers barely above average. She looked around in the new place you had found yourselves in, a different part of the endless market and still just as busy, watching The Doctor’s face contort into something of discomfort as she kept an ear out for the sound you couldn’t hear.

“Doctor, where are we-“

“There!” And she was off again.

You huffed in irritation, your burning lungs silently pleading to The Doctor to slow down and give them a chance. You followed, pushing through the pain of exhaustion, and found her crouched down in an alleyway behind what looked like a generator for the building it was attached to.

“It’s okay, I’m here now.”

She stood, a bundle of blankets in her arms. She slowly walked over to you, never once taking her eyes away from whatever she was holding, her expression soft and a small smile on her face.

“I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

The blankets moved and out popped an arm. The arm of a baby, it’s skin a shade of pink, it’s tiny and chubby hand reaching out to touch The Doctor’s face. You watched in awe as the timelord bounced in her spot, rocking the cooing baby back and forth, keeping it calm and content.

“So that’s what you heard? A baby?”

She nodded, finally looking up at you. “He was crying.”

You frowned, still confused. “But how did you hear him from so far away?”

She shrugged, returning her gaze back to the baby. “Parental instincts, I suppose.”

You opened your mouth to speak, to ask even more questions, but she began to walk off before you could.

She spoke to the baby as she made her way back through the crowd, asking him questions about what his family looked like and what his name was, all the while keeping an eye out for distressed parents looking for their son.

The baby gurgled back and she nodded in understanding, replying to him as she understood exactly what he was saying. You, of course, had absolutely no idea at all.

You twisted and turned through the market streets, searching for a clue as to who this baby belonged to. According to The Doctor he had been taken from his crate by someone who mistook him for goods at a stall and left behind when the thief had peeled back the blanket and realised their mistake. You assumed ‘crate’ was an alien word for cot, although you never could be sure with other planets and their odd ways of living.

“Here, hold Rax for a moment while I use my sonic to scan the place.”

“Rax?” You held out your arms to receive the baby, bringing him close to your chest.

“That’s his name.”

“How do you know that?” You looked at the baby now known as Rax, admiring his emerald green eyes, watching as they sparkled under the light of the sun. He gave a toothless smile and made grabbing motions with his hands, something that made you return the smile.

The Doctor span in a slow circle, her sonic buzzing with life and searching for the child’s parents. “I speak baby.”

You gave her an incredulous look, not that she saw it, and sighed. “Of course you do.”

She gave her sonic a once over and huffed when it came up with no answers. She took the baby back from you and set off in the direction of the TARDIS, leaving you to follow in tow.

-     -

You sat against the blue box, your eyes closed and your face pointed towards the sky, the warmth of the sun on your skin. Beside you sat The Doctor and her new best friend, the baby.

You’d been sat there for hours waiting for the crowds of the market to thin out as the day went on, deciding it would be easier to spot the parents with less people around, and the entire time the timelord had chatted away to the baby and laughing when he replied back.

You tried not to feel annoyed by the lack of attention The Doctor was giving you in favour of talking to a baby, but it was proving hard. After all, it wasn’t the baby’s fault you couldn’t understand it and join in on the conversation and The Doctor was completely oblivious to how she had shut you out, but after spending so much time travelling with her, just the two of you, you’d come to enjoy and crave her constant attention.

You hadn’t noticed before now that your entire life and all your feelings revolved around her, your entire being consumed by her. You wanted, needed, her approval on everything, your whole self subconsciously begging her to stay near, your mind twisted into thoughts of her and only her.

It was a wake up call for sure, but you mentally hit the snooze button. You’d come back to that another day, someday in the distant future.

The baby began to cry and was passed over to you once again, The Doctor announcing that he was hungry and going into the TARDIS to make him food. You sent a quiet prayer that her food would be edible and wouldn’t harm the defenceless soul in your arms. The Doctor was a lot of things, but a good cook wasn’t one of them.

She returned with a baby’s bottle filled with an orange liquid. On Earth babies drank milk, but here you weren’t sure if this was the normal thing to give to babies or if The Doctor had gotten it completely wrong.

“Where did you get a baby’s bottle from?” You quizzed, watching her cradle the boy and feed him carefully. “And what did you mean by parental instincts?”

“I was a father once.”

Your face must’ve been quite the picture if anyone was looking, your brain almost fizzing out in an attempt to process the information you’d been given.

“No, seriously.”

She turned to you and looked you dead in the eye, her face displaying no signs of joking around. “Seriously.”

“Don’t you mean you were a mother?”

She shook her head, her eyes returning to the baby to make sure he was drinking properly. “No, I mean father.”

“But you’re…” you gestured at her broadly. “You’re a woman.”

The Doctor used the corner of the boy’s blanket to wipe at his mouth, clearing away what had slipped from his tiny lips. “And before I was a man.”

“Okay.” You took a deep breath and decided to change the subject slightly, realising you were getting nowhere. “What do you mean was a father?”

“Look, there!”

The Doctor sprung up from her spot, her eyes focused on a creature made of what looked like pink pliable stone. She cried loudly and searched frantically for something, or someone.

The Doctor ran in her direction, clutching the baby tightly so that he didn’t slip from her hold. You stayed behind and watched from the TARDIS, your eyes fixed on the timelord as she handed back the baby and was immediately pulled into a hug that looked somewhat uncomfortable.

After she said her goodbyes and wished Rax and his mother well, The Doctor came back to you. She smiled at you as she went inside the blue box, heading straight for the console to fly you away.

You followed quietly, observing as she flicked switches and turned dials on each of the control panels. The machine came to life, groaning as she took off, taking you somewhere new.

“Doctor,” her eyes fell on you, ready and waiting for your question. “Why aren’t you a… father anymore?”

Her hands stilled for a moment. Her face remained soft, but her gaze was vacant as if she was remembering something. She shook her head and smiled with tight lips the way she does when she doesn’t want to talk about something, and continued her sequence of lever pulling and button pressing.

“Why are you still asking questions? And anyway, you need to tell me where you want to go next!”

You bit your lip to refrain yourself from pushing the topic further. She was clearly uncomfortable and not likely to talk, so you thought for a moment and gave your answer.

-    -

The fire in the library roared with life, it’s heat reaching you and The Doctor on the couch you shared. Your head rested on her shoulder as she read aloud to you a book she had chosen from her endless shelves of reading material, her hand placed on your leg as a form of comfort.

You sipped on your hot chocolate, the marshmallows bobbing against your nose, your eyes following each sentence as The Doctor spoke them quietly. The evening was peaceful and calm, uneventful for the most part compared to the pace of the day, but it was welcomed gratefully by the both of you.

Her thumb stroked the skin of your knee absentmindedly, her mind seemingly drifting away as her words began to fall into silence. You lifted your head to look at her face, the reflection of flames in her eyes as she stared into it.

She nodded slowly when you asked if she was alright, never looking away from the fire. She seemed distracted and somehow nervous, something you hadn’t seen in her before.

“You know, you looked good with a baby in your arms.” You nudged her playfully, smiling brightly to lighten the mood.

She finally tore her attention away from the fireplace and looked at you, a small smile of her own being offered back to you. “As do you.”

She kissed your forehead and returned to the book, picking up from where she had stopped. You placed your head back onto it’s spot on her shoulder and closed your eyes to focus on the words, relaxing at the sound of her voice.