#had to return the tablet I borrowed and I got used to drawing on it so now I feel lost

[burningcheese-merchant]

You have now made me addicted to Silentlily. I thank you for doing this.

Yes good excellent. More people brainwashed convinced to like my ships. SilentLily is peak, it warms my heart that you've accepted this truth and I hope others join you

I shall write stories and doodle them (or try to idk lol) and sway yet more people to swear allegiance to the SilentLily nation, you'll see

Now if I could just get more people to ship PitayaFire then I can finally declare myself a winner at life

[honeypirate]

Quick drabbles about sweet moments I would like to have with some of my favorite characters.

Fem reader sometimes

Fire force

Benimaru

He comes into your room with a sigh, closing the door quietly before kneeling at the bottom of your bed and crawling up between your legs, pushing his head under your hands holding your book and laying his head against your chest. You chuckle and set your book aside before running your fingers through his hair “hello sweetheart” you say and he pushes up so his face was in your neck now, kissing the skin softly “hello” he says and sighs into your neck. “I missed you” you say and he nods into your neck “I missed you” he says and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, hugging him tighter to you and kissing the top of his head.

Konro

You sit behind him in the bath, the hot water up to your shoulders and you lay your head against his back as he tells you about his day, his hands brushing up and down your legs beside him. You were careful to avoid the charred marks on his neck, arms, and back as you careful washed him, leaving kisses around them. You took care of him better than anyone and he felt the love you had for him every time you helped him, you never made him feel like a burden or anything less than, you made him feel comfortable in his own skin. “God I love you so much” he whispers as you finish washing his hair “it’s my turn now” he says and you carefully switch places with him, his large hands gently washing your body and kissing your neck. He washes your hair and then spends extra time running his fingers through it, loving the soft feel in his hands. You run your fingertips against his legs and up to his thighs as you talk and relax until the water gets too cold.

Obi Akitaru

He throws you over his shoulder after you get back to the compound, you giggle and lightly hit his back “Obi! Put me down!” He laughs and slaps your butt “not gonna happen. My girl was injured so I gotta carry her in” you sigh and relax in his hold “ It’s just a little burn! On my arm! I can still walk” he laughs but doesn’t set you down until you’re in his private bathroom. He helps you out of your fire force coat and pants before taking off his own, leaving you in just your underwear and a tank top and him in boxers. You smile softly up at his as he gently washes the soot off your cheeks and neck. “You’re so beautiful sweetheart” he says and you blush, reaching up and cupping his cheek with a smile “you’re not so bad yourself” you say and he grins. You take the washcloth from his hand and rinse it out before gently washing the soot off his cheeks for him “let’s hop in a shower so we can do this properly” he says as he dips down to capture your lips in his.

Hinawa

You push the kitchen door open quietly and peak in at him, he’s singing along to a old record he borrowed from Obi, some jazz from before the cataclysm. You watched him cook and sing, butterflies in your belly from how adorable it is. His voice was perfect for this kind of music and it smelled like he was making your favorite meal. You walk over to him and wrap your arms around his middle, his singing turning into a low chuckle. “Hey sweetheart” he says and you smile, placing a kiss against his shirt on his spine “it smells good but I want to know....are you on the menu for tonight?” you say and his hand holds yours on his stomach “naughty girl” he says before taking the pan of the heat and turning around in your arms, he holds both of your cheeks and you look up at him, your chin on his chest. His eyes were dark, you could see the lust in his eyes and the adoration he has for you. You stand on your tiptoes, meeting him halfway as he captures your lips his.

Haikyuu

Aone

Sitting in the living room, leaning against him on the couch as you both read together. His arm around you as he scrolls through his book on his tablet, your head against his arm, kissing it every other page turn. When you finish your chapter to mark your page and set your book on the coffee table before turning your head up and kissing his chin softly, watching his lips turn up in a smile before his eyes flick to yours after he finishes the sentence he was on. “I’m so unbelievably lucky” he whispers and you blush, after all these years he still makes you feel giddy in your heart.

Kuroo

You’re cooking breakfast while he pours mimosas, the Sunday morning air filled with sweet kisses and witty banter, him sticking to you like glue, his hands on your hips and his chin against your shoulder as he sways you to the music playing, singing the lyrics to you as you flip the pancakes.

Ushiwaka

Taking the long drive through the country for a weekend away, his hand on your thigh as he drives, you play a perfect relaxing mix of music but the radio is quiet background noise as you talk about anything you can think of. You loved that he was so open minded, you could ask anything your crack head thoughts come up with and he’d respond honestly. You never felt the need to fill any silence though, it was comfortable, he felt like home to you.

Daichi

You’re singing along to the music you had playing loudly as you did some late night cleaning while waiting for him to get come from work, he had to do some extra paperwork but you didn’t mind. You were excited to see him after being apart all day and to combat that excitement you decided to clean. When he walks in the house he smiles at the sight, you were standing on the back of the couch, the vacuum on as you suck the dust off the blinds, your foot tapping along to the music that was so loud you could hear it over the vacuum. He closed the door as he admired you before walking over to you and quickly clicking the vacuum button. You yelp as he knocks the back of your knees so you fell into his waiting arms, his smiling face made your heart skip as you relaxed into his arms “you naughty boy!” You say as you laugh and kisses your cheek “What can i say? I missed my darling”

Nishinoya

You’ve been together for years, spent traveling as you worked as a freelance photographer mostly but now you’ve decided to go home and put down your own roots, get back to family. After a few months you decided you wanted to adopt a pet tigether, finally deciding on a sweet cat you met at the shelter, he couldn’t stop talking about her so you thought it was a pretty good sign. Her first night home with you, you let her get adjusted and she kept to herself for the most part, claiming one of the chairs in the living room for herself. In the middle of a movie you were watching you got up to use the bathroom, when you returned he was mouthing screams at you pointing down, you chuckled as you saw that the cat had jumped up and fell asleep on his lap. He was so cute you about teared up for a moment before taking a picture of them on your phone, setting it as your Lock Screen. Your perfect little family.

Tendou

When he was making you homemade chocolate at his apartment for your fifth date, you took a spoon and dipped it into the melted chocolate when you thought he wasn’t looking. When he turned around and saw you with the spoon in your mouth, an obviously blissed look at how delicious it was, he knew he loved you. “Sorry” you say around the spoonin your mouth, your cheeks warming under his gaze. “You’re such a sneak, I’ll have to look out for that” he says as he boops your nose. You felt your heart race at the way his eyes lingered on you with a smirk. This man would be the death of you.

Bnha

Bakugou

You sing a little song to yourself as you break your chopsticks apart, dancing in your chair as you look down at your ramen. You were so happy to be in this moment with your favorite boy and your favorite food. He looks across the table at you, an amused smile on his face as he watches you and listens to your impromptu dumb song about how much you love ramen and love him, all the anger in his body leaving. You look up into his eyes and you feel your cheeks get warm “hmm?” You ask and expect his usually dumbass banter but your breath hitches when he says softly “I just love you is all” He‘ll never forget how lucky he is to be sharing perfect moments with you.

Midoriya

A date that’s not a date. You go to a thrift store with your friends but take his hand and lead him back to the clothing, taking turns choosing ugly accessories and coats for the other, spending the whole time lost in the moments with him. By the end you have many pictures together on your phone. You break off from the group, walking behind a few feet with him as you talk about your favorite heroes, you asked him questions about his notebook and he showed you the page he had written for you but forgot the small little drawing of a heart next your name at the top of the page. He noticed when the notebook was in your hand but couldn’t really tear it from you, that would be nuts. So he just hopes you don’t notice as you read his notes(you do) “this is amazing. I didn’t know you paid this much attention to me” his cheeks flush “y/n you have an amazing quirk! I love to watch you!” His face turns very red as you raise your eyebrows “you love to watch me?” You smirk and he starts to ramble “no! I mean I do. But like not in a weird way. I just like to see how your quirk develops. I’m not a stalker or anything” you reach out and take his hand with a chuckle “I like that you pay attention to me so don’t worry Zuku” you say and he lets out a deep breath. The rest of your group notices but just leaves you be, this was a long time going and to be honest bakugou started a bet to see how long it would take. He won when he bet it would be sooner rather than later. The first time he ever bet on Deku but only because he knew you were bolder.

Kaminari

Oh man. You were home early and he hadn’t heard you come in. You could hear he was on the phone with someone so you didn’t make any loud noises as you set your things down. “I’m gonna ask her tonight. Yeah I have the ring here in my hand, it’s so perfect. ... I have a reservation at the place we had our first date” he busts up laughing and you crack a smile when you realize he means the skate park near your old high school. “Yeah man the skatepark. But it’s actually a really nice restaurant now which I thought was so romantic. Shin, I can’t even begin to explain how sure I am about this. I can’t imagine a life without them in it.” You feel your heart skip and your eyes mist over for a moment before you suck in a breath and make your way over to the door, opening it quietly and then shouting “Hey im home early! Are you home?” You act, dramatically picking up and dropping your keys again and kicking your shoes. You hear a drawer shut and him say “I gotta go man she’s home thanks so much” before he comes out of the bedroom with a big grin on his lips “y/n/n! do you wanna go out to dinner tonight? There’s this new place I want us to try”

Aizawa

The way the breeze coming in through window ruffled his hair woke him up, it was just after two am and he must of forgot to close the window before you guys fell asleep. He got up to shut the window and he turned around, pausing for a second when he noticed you were looking at him. The moonlight framed his back and hit your face, your sleepy eyes taking in his shirtless frame as he walked back to bed. “You look like an angel” you whispered to him and he chuckles as he scooted under the covers, “you must still be dreaming if you think I’m the angel of this relationship” he mutters, trying to hide the way his heart skipped when you called him an angel.

Fatgum/ Taishiro

He comes home, his big suit in tatters and his body smaller, bruises already forming on his face and chest you can see from the torn fabric. “Oh babe I knew it was bad but I really wasn’t-“ you hold your hand to your lips to try and stop your tears as he walks over to you and wraps you in a hug and standing, carrying you with him to the bedroom “oh my angel don’t worry. I’m okay. All I need is a little bit of your home cooking and a lot of your kisses, then I’ll be right as rain” you shower with him, helping him out so he didnt have to use his sore limbs. Kissing him as much as he would want, showing him how much you love him. After you dress you make him multiple different foods, full meals so he could have as much as he wanted. He watched you cook from his spot at the kitchen table, his heart as full as his stomach will be later. The food you make for him always tastes the best, better than any food he could ever order, he feels your love through the act of service you give him every time you cook for him.

Present mic

The moment after a concert where you’re walking back to the car holding hands, smiles on your lips as your ears ringing from the level of music as you talk about your favorite songs that were performed. You start to shiver from the sweat on your body and he pulls you into a hug “I got something for you” he says quietly knowing your ears were already ringing as he kisses the top of your head “what is it?” You ask with a smile “close your eyes” he says and you lean up to kiss his lips softly before pulling back and keeping yo eyes closed. You feel something go over your head and you instinctively put your arms up through the sleeves knowing it was a hoodie “okay open your eyes” he says and you do, seeing him wearing a hoodie in front of you and looking down to see you had a matching one on “this is amazing Yama! I love you! Thank you!” You hug him tight and he laughs holding you close “anything for my girl”

Toshinori

Walking through the park in the morning, getting some coffee and people watching, hitting the farmers market on the way home he buys you some flowers while you’re distracted with the fruit. You buy an aloe plant in a pot painted with his face on it that looks like his hair for your office at the school and when you walk home you buy some donuts from the stand at the end, your arm in his as you have endless entertaining conversations.

Naruto

Kakashi

You gave him an excuse of a mission so you could go to the sand village for a few days. There’s a small bookstore there who was going to be releasing a limited edition Icha Icha book with a twist ending and you wanted to make sure you could get one. You were the first one in line and you waited all night long to be the first one in when it opened that day. You got the book and then swung by where you heard Jiraiya was, some bar by a hot spring between the sand and the leaf. “What are you doing here?” He says through a confident slur as you sit down next to him. you pull out the book and a pen and grin at him but when he doesn’t show any emotion you sigh, pulling out your wallet and handing it to him before he nods and takes the pen “I always have time for my fans”

When you get back to the apartment it’s after 2am the day of his birthday. You take the stairs two at a time, ditching your pack by the door as you enter silently. You hold the book in your hands, neatly wrapped in paper as you kick off your shoes and make your way to the bedroom. He’s sleeping peacefully in bed and you can’t wait to ruin it. You climb up in the bed and sit cross legged next to him, a smile on your lips and the book in your lap as you softly run your fingertips across his cheeks and his forehead and then down his nose before his eyes flutter open. “Hi” you whisper and he smiles as he stretches his arms out “welcome home baby. How was the mission?” He sits up and you look down at the book in your lap “the mission was successful” you say with a chuckle before looking back up into his eyes “what do you got there?” He asks and you hide it behind your back “oh nothing at all I don’t know what you’re ta-“ he talked you to the bed and stars to tickle your sides “taLKING ABOUT!” You start to giggle as his fingers hit all your ticklish spots “Kashi stop!” You beg through laughs and tears before he captures your lips with his and you relax into him, not noticing when his hand slides under your back and pulls the book from your grasp. He knows exactly what it is the moment he’s touched it. “You didn’t” he says as he pulls back and you just grin “open it” you say and he does, gently pulling the paper from the book. He holds it like he’s holding somethjng extra precious “there wasn’t a mission” he states as he looks down at the book in his hands, flipping through the new pages. “The only mission was making you happy” you whisper and he looks up into your eyes, his looking a little misty, “I love you so much, thank you” he says quietly, afraid his voice will crack. “I love you Kakashi. Happy Birthday”

[maggies-scribblings]

2) "How long have you been standing there?" If you're willing, I'm thinking this would be interesting with Marichat post season 3. 😊

“How long have you been standing there?”

Of all the responsibilities Marinette inherited as Guardian, that cursed Grimoire was by far her biggest headache.

Well, Master Fu did leave a USB drive with the scanned pages of the sacred book, and a password-protected file with all the discoveries he’d made with her help: the power-up potion recipes, the story of how the Miraculous came to be, the descriptions of each jewel’s powers…

Unfortunately, his work was left incomplete by his forced retirement, leaving Marinette to painstakingly decipher almost everything Master Fu could not. However, there was still a very important part that eluded her after four years — the ritual that had to be performed in order to summon The Wish. Not because she wanted to use it, rather to be able to identify any peculiar ingredients or locations she could use to trace Hawkmoth.

The cypher on this section was even more complex than the rest: not only were the glyphs more intricate, the illustrations were so bizarre she couldn’t tell whether they were allegorical or instructional.

It was a race against Hawkmoth, who had recently cracked the code on the copy he had stolen from Master Fu. This had been evident a few months ago, when a fire-powered Mayura, together with a flaming akumatized villain, had attacked an old theatre full of people attending a concert.

Repeatedly, Hawkmoth had shown to be playing around with the power-ups, prompting Ladybug to keep a stockpile of potions so that everyone in Team Miraculous could use them in an emergency.

Approaching the subject as methodically as her chaotic life allowed, Marinette reserved her Wednesday nights to work on the Grimoire. On this beautiful evening, she decided to move the studies to her balcony, reclining on her lounge chair. At least her muscles could relax a little. Her nerves? Not so much…

“Goddamn mystical book!”

She was holding the tablet on one hand and taking notes on the notebook on her lap with the other. She’d been on this very page for weeks, with no progress.

“Aaaah!” Marinette screamed, “are you sure you can’t help me, Tikki?”

“I’m sorry, Marinette,” the little god replied from her favourite flower pot. “You know us kwamis can’t know the secrets of the book.”

Another few minutes passed in silence, before Marinette let out a frustrated huff, slamming her stuff down on the reel that served as coffee-table.

“I give up! I will never break the stupid magic code on the stupid magic book.”

“Is everything okay here?” A familiar voice asked, quizzically.

Looking for the source of the voice, Marinette yelped as she spotted the unexpected visitor, perched on the wall just behind her.

“How long have you been standing there?” she asked, as she tried (and failed) to conceal her reading materials.

“I heard a scream,” Chat Noir replied evasively, “I simply wanted to check on my favourite civilian. After all, this city is littered with danger!”

“Oh. I didn’t realise I was so loud.” Marinette blushed in embarrassment. “Sorry to alarm you. I was just having trouble with some homework.”

“Can I help you?” he plopped down beside her. “My wits are as sharp as my claws.”

Marinette snorted involuntarily, only to try and cover it up with a fake cough.

“No, thank you. It’s… kinda personal.”

The notebook with some of the symbols she’d copied was still visible, despite Marinette’s attempts to hide it. She watched in panic as his eyes landed on it, head tilted sideways in curiosity.

“Oh, I recognize some of those characters.” Before Marinette could swipe it from view, he picked it up.

“Hey, that’s priva— wait… you know these symbols?”

“Not exactly… Why are you writing this?”

“Oh! It’s a—a…” Marinette scrambled to find an excuse. “It’s copied from an old document, from my mother’s side of the family. I don’t even know what it is.”

“They look like Thai characters, only… in an ancient form…”

“Thai? You know Thai!?”

“Oh… I’ve been there for— for work. I saw something similar to this in an old museum.”

Reluctantly, she allowed him to see the rest of her notes. She was pushing her luck, really. Then again, Chat Noir had never seen the Grimoire, had he? And who knew, maybe he could help.

He flipped through the pages, studying the copied symbols intently.

“These drawings, though... they don’t look like anything I’ve seen before… except…”

Marinette noticed the change in his countenance, from curious excitement to perplexed recognition. “Uh-oh!”

“Oh, never mind, then.” She forced a laugh and waved dismissively, trying to pry the notebook from his claws. “It’s probably an old recipe or something like that.”

“Where did you say you got this?” Was his voice actually trembling?

“My—my mother’s uncle— great-uncle. He’s no longer around.”

“Not around, huh?” Marinette felt the way he was studying her face. “You mean he died?”

“N—no… he— retired.” Even with the risk of discovery, she couldn’t bring herself to lie. “A—abroad.”

“Hmm…” he mumbled again, flipping the pages of the notebook until he found a particular figure. “This one certainly rings a bell.”

He showed her the pages where she had reproduced the diagram of the wish. “Crap, I forgot I had doodled that!”

“You’ve seen that image before?” she gulped nervously.

“Just once, briefly. In a book I borrowed from my father then lost.”

“You? Y-you borrowed then lost it?”

“Hmm-hmm. It was mysteriously returned a few days later. My father never told me who found it.”

“And this book… belonged to your father?”

“It was a present from my mother. He was very upset about me losing it.”

“Upset?” Marinette was barely able to speak coherently, the way her head was spinning.

“Yes. So upset he was— never mind.”

Chat Noir put the notes down on the table, the movement lighting up the tablet screen Marinette had forgotten to lock.

It was impossible not to see the scanned page, complete with balloon notes and the title “Miraculous Spellbook Translation — V.2.34”. Marinette smacked her own forehead. “Why didn’t I lock the screen? Why didn’t I change the name of the file?”

She couldn’t stop him from picking up the tablet and flipping through the pages, exact reproductions of Gabriel Agreste’s book, down to the wear marks and ragged edges.

There were a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, where it seemed like both were putting two and two together and coming up with a square.

“Whe—” his voice came out cracking, so Chat Noir cleared his throat and tried again. “Where exactly did you get this, Marinette?”

“I— I told you already…”

“That great-uncle of yours… his name wouldn’t happen to be Wang Fu, would it?”

Marinette grimaced — there was no going back now.

“Y-you knew my uncle?”

“He was Master Fu to me… but of course, you know that very well, don’t you?”

Chat Noir’s frown turned into that mischievous grin he sported when he had a trick up his sleeve.

“So, would you say you can’t make heads or tails of this book… Bug?”

Marinette smiled back playfully, flicking his nose in an affectionate gesture.

“I’d say we’ve only just scratched the surface, Kitty. What do you say we work on it together?”

Prompt: “How long have you been standing there?”, Marichat, post-season 3.

For @miraculous-elcie. Thanks to everyone on Discord who chimed in!

[issabangtanfic]

[Jungkook] The Windmill House (Chapter 8)

Masterlist

Synopsis: When for once rich doesn’t rhyme with Christian Grey.

Pairing: Jungkook x OC

A/N: Feel free to submit a cover! Tell me what you think in my inbox! Enjoy!

-

Swinging my bag over my shoulder and tucking it under my armpit, pick up the large box containing my brand new set of portfolios I just picked up from the printing store. The box obstructing my vision, I trust my instincts to guide me to the office. I close my trunk with one free hand and walk a few steps, peeking to the side of the box to watch for the steps before the double doors.

I give one of the doors a great push with my feet, but it comes back too fast and slams right into me as I try to walk in. Squealing, I lose my balance and send the box flying, falling onto my butt spectacularly.

“Damn it.” I mutter to myself, looking at the dozen of my portfolios scattered next to the tipped box. I reach for one but almost grab two leather shoes.

“I can’t believe how clumsy you are.” Mr.Jeon crouches down before my eyes, all grey suit and sickening looks. I nearly jump.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, my face a mix of horror and surprise.

“I came to pay my consultation fees.” He explains, pricking up each of my photo books and stacking them. I give myself a mental slap and help him clean my mess.

“You forgot to charge me.” He adds. Yeah, that was a detail I wish no one would have noticed.

“Did I?” I feign surprise, and he answers with a soft chuckle. ’S’all good now.” He says reassuringly, getting back up with a cheetah’s ease. He stretches a hand down to me.

“I always pay my debts.” He declares.  I take his hands and try to ignore how it feels around mine and he helps me up, before handing me my box.

“Do you think you’ll be okay with this?” He asks once I can’t see him anymore, and I hear him press the button for the elevator.

“Yes, thank you.” I murmur, so glad that my crimson face is hidden from his view by the cardboard box.

“Have a good day.” I hear him say to me as I step in. Please go away. I punch the third floor button.

“You too.” I choke out as the doors close. I sigh deeply. Please let this be the last of last times I see this man.

“Hi everyone.” I call once I enter the office.

“Morning. You just missed Mr. HotButtocks.”  Jade teases, eyebrows wriggling. Oh, please.

“Who she forgot to charge for the consultations.” Fred chimes in before I can answer, appearing behind Ava with a bunch of folders in his hands. Oh, crap.

“Well, it wasn’t-“

“Save it. He tipped. A lot.” He cuts me off. I almost sigh in relief. “What’s all this?” He asks me.

“Port folios.” I reply, starting to walk to my office again. This is getting heavy.

“Need help?” I hear Ava call after me. I look at her over my shoulder.

“I got it! It’s pancakes that I need Ava!” I retort. When I turn my head back and make a turn down the hallway, I bump into a firm chest,  sending my package flying once more. The content pilled on the floor, I look up to the man in front of me.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” The tall, platinum blonde asian guy says, crouching down to clean the mess. 

“It’s okay.” I reply, more intrigued by the reason of his presence than anything.  I join him on the floor, quickly throwing my portfolios back into the box.

“Kim Namjoon.” He pauses to streatch his hand out.  “I’m the new architect.”

The new architect?

“I’m Maya Fair. Nice to meet you.” I reply, shaking his hand. 

“I had no idea Fred had hired someone.” I tell hm, unable to hide my surprise.

“He thinks it could be plus for the company to have both designers and architects.” My new colleague says to me. It’s not a stupid idea.

“He also told me you would be my partner.” He adds, lifting himself off the floor with the bax in his arms.

“Partner?” I repeat, rising to my feet.

“We have our first client who asked for both a designer and an architect.” He says as I open the door to my office. We’re already starting?!

“It’s 10 ten in the morning.” I gape at him. I’m sure Fred hasn’t communicated on it yet, how would anybody now we have an architect?

“It’s good friend of mine.” He clears up as we both step into my office. Oooh.

“Oh, Maya.” Fred calls from outside the door.

“I see you’ve met Namjoon.” He smiles at the newest employee.

“Yes, he just told me about the two-in-one.” I tell him.

“Then, you’re fine. I gotta go. Bye!” He sings, nearly pirouetting his way out of my office. Namjoon and I both chuckle at him.

“Where should I put this?” He asks, my package still in his hands,

“I could take advantage of your height and have you put it up here.” I propose, pointing at my unused top shelf reserved for my drawing equipment.

“No problem.” Namjoon replies, placing the box on the shelf with ease and grace I could never have.

I thank him warmly and ask him about our appointment today.

“It’s at 2pm, downtown near the design museum. Should we take my car?” He proposes. I don’t mind not driving for once. This two-in-one package has its perks.

“Sure.” I reply.

“I’ll leave you to it, then. See you.” He greets before leaving my office. Taking a cleansing breath, I slide behind my desk, ready to get to work.

“Cute, right?”

I look up and see Ava standing in my doorway, hip jutted ou and a plate of pancakes in her hand. I chuckle rolling my eyes.

“What about Eli?” I shoot back.

“No one’s above Elijah. But he is cute, right?” She replis, walking over to my desk. Ava is addicted to men, it’s crazy. I grab a pancake and shove it down my throat.

“M’yeah.” I mumble. He is cute, but the. real snack is that pancake for me.

“He’s from Seoul, graduated from Barlett, and worked with people like Emma Thomson and the Beckham’s.” She gives me his whole resume without me asking, raising her eyebrows in excitement. So he’s high class, huh?

“Aren’t we a little small for him?” I raise a brow, and Ava replies with a clueless shrug.

“You know, Maya.” She trails off. “I had no idea Jeon was putting you through all this.”

“It’s fine, Ava. Really.” I reply dismissively, reaching out for a second pancake. 

“It’s all behind me now.” I reassure her.

“I can’t wait to get back to work actually.” I say excitedly.

“Well, I’ll let you do just that.” She declares, turning on her heels.

“Thanks for the pancakes!” I say to her back before she exits the room.

-

“Miss Fair?”

I lift my head from my scribbles and see Mr.Namjoon standing in the doorway of my office.

“It’s Maya. We’re colleagues.” I give him a warm smile that he returns immediately.

“Okay well, you can call me Joon if you want. ” He says to me.

“Joon. Is it time?” I ask him.

“Yep.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

“I’ll be outside.” He says before closing the door and ambling off. I quickly gather my belongings, my portfolio, my tablet and my note bad, before joining Namjoon at the elevator.

“Who are we meeting?” I ask him.

“Choi Minah. A friend from Seoul.” He explains. I’m meeting a lot of Korean people these days. From Mr.Jeon to him to Mrs.Choi.

“Oh.”

“She’s a designer for Alexander McQueen.” He tells me, though I don’t really know what to do with this information.

“Interesting.” I say to myself. So he’s a high-class architect bringing us his high-class clients. Why did he settle for us? We are way too small of a company.

-

“A round apartment in a square building?” I utter once we're out of the appointment. Miss Choi has been very friendly with us, she's easy going, funny and very elegant as I had imagined, but she's also very edgy.

She likes vintage decors, clothes and even vintage movies. She lives in the wrong century. Her requirements were...disruptive. Not impossible to realize, just very...interesting.

“Rita doesn’t do conventional.” Namjoon explains as we walk back to his car. We both know that's an understatement. She's unique.

“Had the building been round she would’ve wanted a triangle house.” He muses.

“If she’s opting for minimalism I won’t be much help.” I retort. The project sounds amazing, but I don't see how I can ring much to it. Namjoon might as well have gone alone and asked for advice if be needed any.

“Of course you would. You’ve done plenty of such projects.” He counters.

“How do you know?” I ask, squinting my eyes at him. He gives me an embarrassed smile.

“I borrowed one of your portfolios.” He admits. 

“Borrowed?” I repeat. When did he do that.

“It fell out of your box.” He says. I lift an eyebrow. What a sneaky dude.

“I was going to give it back, I promise.” He says reassuringly. Oh, whatever.

"Well we could trade portfolios. I'd like to see your work." I tell him.

"I'll get you- Oh.” Namjoon freezes and stops in his tracks, eyes glued to a sign. Looking in the same direction, I realise we’re in front of the design museum, and he is reading the colourful banner above the entry.

“An RCR exposition?” He says under his breath.

“What’s that?” I enquire, clueless.

“Rafael Aranda, Carme Pigen dnd Ramon Vilalta, three of the best architects in the entire world." He nearly gushes, a smile stretching his face. Well, if you say so…

 “I knew they were in London to work on a house, but I had no idea they would have an exposition here.” He mumbles to himself, frowning deeply. I read the sign.

“It’s the last day.” I remark. “Do you want to have a quick look?” I propose, and he directs his frown to me.

“Shouldn’t we get back to the office?” He says. Well, we can always take the long way home.

“Fred won’t know.” I say reassuringly, I always make pit stops between meetings if I ever have to.

“I don’t know if I should be doing this on my first day.” He mumbles, scratching the back of his neck.  Don’t tell me he’s a bootlicker!

“Oh, come on.” I refrain an eye roll. “We can be out in ten minutes. Plus, it’s your last chance.” I argue, and that seems to do the trick.

“A quick look then.” He says quietly, refraining a smile to hide his excitement. 

Jeez, he must really love these guys. As an interior designer I’ve always been interested in architecture. I have always admired the way our ancestors have pushed the limits of what we could build, of how they could create entire spaces that tell stories. 

Namjoon. and I walk into the museum and amble in the middle f the exhibit. For someone so excited about these architect, my colleague seems to be skimming over each model and picture quite fast, almost as if h was looking for something.

“It’s there.” He nearly gasps, stopping in front of a replica of a cubic, rainbow-gradient coloured building.

“El petit Combe.” He says. I take a closer loo at the colourful yet minimalistic square.

“They made this in collaboration with Lego’s.” He explains to me. Now that I know that, I’m less bothered by all the squareness of the place.

“Playing with Lego’s is actually what made me want to be an architect. Before my parents would start buying me equipment to draw plans, I would use Lego’s to build models.” He explains to me. What a lovely story. And what a ingenious kid he must have been! I remember doing the exact same thing with Lego’s whenever I wanted to change the layout of my bedroom, but when I was a teen.

“And this actually is a school in Spain.” He says, pointing at “El Petit Combe”.

“Imagine going to school in a Lego building.” He whispers to himself. His passion for architecture is nearly palpable, the excitement in his eyes visible and almost contagious.

“Are they building a Lego house in London? Is that why they’re here?” I enquire, which makes him chuckle.

“I wish.” He says, walking away from his favorite piece. I follow him to wards the back of the room to see the rest of the exhibit. “I haven’t been up to date with the project, but I think they’re finishing their Mesh Manor.”

“Mesh Manor?”

“Ever heard of the Mesh House in Hampstead?”

I shake my head, and he fishes his phone out of his pocket.

“It looks like this.” He says, showing me a picture. Ah, mesh as in mesh textures in modelling softwares!

“They’re using the same concept but making it their own. On a bigger scale.” He explains. “Speaking of the devil.”

He stops in front of a replica of what would be the manor. My brain can’t really wrap itself around the idea of having such a big building built like this. The scale of this project is huge. But it doesn’t feel at all like a manor, just like a manor-size piece of contemporary art.

“You can hardly call this a manor.” I remark.

“It fits the definition.” He retorts. I mean, yeah, if it comes with enough land.

“I wonder what the inside looks like.” I muse. I am currently imagining luxurious minimalism, which of course would fit but which I am also bored of.

“I’m curious to see what they were trying to express with this.” I tell myself. “I hope it’s not minimalism.”

“Well, you could see for yourself.”

When I snap my head towards Namjoon, he’s reading a leaflet he found next to the description of the replica.

“They’re doing an inauguration party.” He tells me. Oh, do they?! I could go with Sidney. She loves acting fancy.

“Certified designers and architects only.” He mumbles. Oh, that kind of party?! 

“Proof of employment should be sent to this e-mail address for an invitation to be sent to you.” He reads. That is super selective. Well, it’s a high class project carried out by high-class architects. 

“Dress code: suit and tie or cocktail dress.” He finishes. That sounds a lot of fun, but I can’t go with my baker of a roommate.

"Would you like to go with me?” He proposes. 

What? He’s already asking me out on a date. I have nothing against him, but I’ve had enough os testosterone for at least a month. Hell, I’m so fucking blind I hadn’t noticed he was interested in me.

“Not as a date though.” He adds quickly. i blink up at him.

“I’m really not trying to ask you out.” He says. If we weren’t on the same page I’d be offended.

“But if we both enjoy architecture, we can have a good time.” He explains, and I hide my relief. This could be fun. 

“Sure!” I nod vigorously. “Sure. It’ll be fun.”

He grins, eyes almost disappearing.

“Perfect.” He pipes up. Looks like I have a not-a-date this weekend. "We should get back to the office now."

[valkyrisffvii]

Secrets

Setting: Mithra’s apartment in the Shinra Building, Midgar

POV: 3rd person

Summary: Mithra invites Sephiroth over to her home so the new couple can spend time together, and she reveals some of her deepest secrets.

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

Mithra sat on one of the barstools in her kitchen area, mindlessly staring at her phone. She finished cleaning up her apartment earlier to make it look presentable, as Sephiroth was going to be spending the night with her. Apparently, her apartment was nicer than even the 1st class SOLDIER’s, as it was originally a suite for Shinra’s guests. 

The two of them had been together for about a week now. Mithra still felt somewhat overwhelmed and in disbelief at the fact, but Sephiroth had reassured her that he loved her and wanted the relationship. Also, thankfully, there were no rules in SOLDIER that forbade dating among members. Additionally, the two of them had agreed that their relationship could become public, as doing such would prevent fangirls from causing problems. 

There was a knock at her door, and Mithra quickly hurried over. She peered through the peephole and saw the tall, silver-haired First standing on the other side. Heart racing, she opened the door to let him in.

“Hello, my dear,” his smooth voice did nothing to calm her down. He placed his duffel bag down and pulled Mithra in for a hug. Normally, Sephiroth would never perform such a physical act, but Mithra somehow brought out this side in him. Mithra hugged him back, burying her face into his shoulder.

“Hello, love,” she mumbled into his coat. She leaned up to kiss him, which he gladly accepted. Mithra then led him into her living area.

“Your home is very nice,” he said. “I now understand why Zack and Cloud like to hang out here so much.”

“I do my best to accommodate. I made Zack his own jar of puppy food.” 

Sephiroth could not help but crack a small grin; Mithra knew her friends too well. The living area had a television as well as a large couch and a coffee table. The kitchen was in the same room, with a nicely-sized kitchen island that sported several bar stools. Sephiroth spotted several of Angeal’s cookbooks perched on the countertop, showing that Mithra had been borrowing them and experimenting with new recipes. 

Mithra opened one of the doors that led out of the living area to reveal the bedroom. Maroon sheets and pillowcases adorned the king-sized bed, and a matching comforter was draped over the foot. Each side had a nightstand with a pink salt lamp, and the nightstand on the left had a caddy with several small items. Opposite of the bed was a full-length window whose curtains were currently drawn. 

“You can leave your bag there.” Mithra gestured to the dresser against the wall next to the door. “The left side of the bed is my side. I hope you don’t mind sleeping on the right side.” She paused, getting nervous again. “Unless you don’t feel comfortable sleeping next to me, then you could sleep-”

Sephiroth shushed her.

“Relax, love. I’ll be more than comfortable sharing a bed with you. I’m sure your bed will be much warmer with me in it.” He winked at her, inciting a giggle from the now-relaxed Second. As she helped him get settled, Mithra could not help but adore the way Sephiroth could both fluster her to the point of blushing and instantly relax her all in the same breath. 

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

The evening had consisted of the two talking about their lives and gossiping about their friends. Mithra cooked them dinner with the help of Angeal’s cookbooks, and, unlike the times she cooked with Zack, the kitchen stayed relatively clean. They also played chess, which Sephiroth won every single time. Mithra and Sephiroth only grew closer during that time. She had always known that they were more similar than she originally thought, having no clue who their parents were and being mostly solitary in their youth. It almost seemed like they were meant to be together.

It was 9 PM when they both decided to get ready for bed. Mithra showed Sephiroth to her luxurious bathroom, which sported separate shower, whirlpool spa, and toilet rooms that both connected to a vanity and sink area. Not even the prestigious 1st Class SOLDIERs had this amenity.

“I know that you’ll be taking a while with that hair of yours, so I’ll go and shower first.” Mithra gathered her clothes and went into the shower room, finishing her shower within five minutes. She changed into her preferred sleepwear which consisted of a sports bra and shorts, and she went back into the bedroom where Sephiroth was sitting on the bed. 

“You look quite adorable,” he said playfully, which resulted in an equally playful punch in the arm. He pretended to be hurt and chuckled as he went into the bathroom to shower.

Ten minutes had passed, and knowing that her boyfriend would be taking a while, Mithra went to the bathroom and opened up the small skincare refrigerator that sat safely on a vanity away from the sinks. She applied her toner and creams, considering asking Sephiroth if he was interested in trying out one of her mud masks sometime. As she walked back to her bedroom, she failed to notice the large, slippery puddle that a certain someone had dripped in the middle of the floor.

“Fuuuck!” she cried as her feet slid up from underneath her. Luckily, before she could collapse on the floor, a strong pair of hands saved her by catching her under her arms. Instead of laying flat on her back on the floor, Mithra’s body was now propped up by her heels and her rescuer. 

Mithra opened her eyes and looked up to see her silver-haired lover who currently sported the most smug face she’d ever seen. To add to her embarrassment, the only thing covering him was a white towel wrapped securely around his hips. She could feel the heat rising in her face as she gained her footing and looked away. Sephiroth stepped in front of her, smiling at how cute she looked. She looked up and was met face to face with a broad, naked chest, which she could not take her eyes off of. She was snapped out of her trance when she felt his velvety lips press against her forehead.

“Sephy! Why are you walking around and leaving puddles everywhere?” she cried. “Go dry yourself off and put on some clothes while I clean up the mess you made!”

“You know, I could use my towel to wipe the floor...”

“No!” Mithra practically shoved him back into the shower room and went to mop up the puddles, all while fighting the urge to peek in on him getting dressed.

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

After she had wrung out her mop and left it out to dry, Mithra headed back to her bedroom and sat on her side of the bed. She laid back against the pillows as she doodled on her tablet with her prized stylus. Drawing proved itself to be a favorite pastime of hers. It helped her relax and unwind in between missions and long training sessions with Angeal. She had drawn portraits for all her friends, which they appreciated immensely. 

Mithra was currently working on yet another sketch of Sephiroth. She knew that she was falling for him when she found herself drawing him over and over, constantly trying to get more and more accurate with her portrayal of the famous SOLDIER. Having spent plenty of time with him lately, she basically had his entire face memorized.

The bathroom door opened, and Mithra turned her head to see Sephiroth standing there. His hair still laid flat on his head with dampness, and he had slipped on a pair of black sweatpants, leaving his bare chest exposed. Mithra could not help but crack a small smile at him. He came over to sit next to her, peering at her tablet and the drawing she worked on.

“Drawing me again, aren’t you?” He asked teasingly. He looked more closely at Mithra’s work, his eyes sparkling.

“I’ll probably be drawing you a lot more, my dear,” Mithra responded, looking up at him and getting lost in his minty-green eyes. She noticed that his usual slit pupils had dilated slightly, now resembling ellipses. Before he had confessed his feelings towards her, Mithra had rarely seen him look at anything with the amount of love and adoration he currently exhibited. He was always so serious and dedicated to his work. He chuckled in response to her statement. 

“If you ever want me to model for you, I’d be honored.”

“Remind me to bring my pen and tablet when we go to Costa Del Sol,” she laughed, placing her items down and scooting herself in between his legs with her back resting on his chest. Sephiroth wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace, burying his face in her hair. He then leaned back against the headboard and began to mindlessly fiddle with Mithra’s short brown locks, a stark contrast to his long silver mane. 

As she shifted her head, he noticed something peculiar under her hair right behind her right ear. He pushed the hair aside to reveal a long, raised scar that marred her skin from right behind the tip of her ear to about halfway down her neck. He could not stop staring at it as his finger went to trace along it, causing Mithra to cease her movements.

“How did you get this scar?” He asked curiously. Mithra did not respond, as thoughts of how she’d explain its story swam in her head. Even though it had been so many years since that event, the memory was still fresh in her mind. It was one of the things that made her hate her life in the slums, and how glad she was to have been able to find a new life at Shinra. 

“Mithra?” She turned slightly so she could look at Sephiroth from the corner of her eye, and her scar was still fully visible to him. 

“I got it when I was sixteen. I was in the slums and I was leaving a bar because I had to return a stolen item to a client,” she explained. Sephiroth only stared at the mutilated skin, running his thumb along the length of the healed scar. “I was just outside the entrance when a man reeking of booze grabbed my arm and told me I looked pretty. He asked me if I was interested in having some fun with him; he was obviously trying to get me to sleep with him. I refused and tried to pull away, and he eventually got so mad that he slammed his half-empty bottle into my head. He aimed for the right side of my face, but I was quick, so it ended up hitting me behind the ear.” Her hand came up to meet his. “It still hurt like a bitch though. If I didn’t jerk my head I probably would’ve gotten glass in my eye and gone blind on that side.”

Sephiroth only looked at her in horror. How could someone do that, and to a sixteen year old no less? He concealed the anger and hatred he felt towards that man; Mithra was most likely safe from him for good now, but that wouldn’t stop Sephiroth from killing the offender if he dared to show his face. By now, Mithra had turned around to face him, her hands on his shoulders.

“I know what you’re thinking. I give you full permission to impale him with Masamune if you see him. I still vaguely remember what he looks like.” She paused to reach behind her ear and touch her scar. 

“Experiences like that one are what taught me all the skills I’ve needed to survive. After I staggered from the pain, I ran for my life. It wasn’t until a year later that I had the courage to leave when I knew that I had had enough,” she sighed, looking down. “I had to hide from several people who were angered by my refusal to submit to them. That’s how I became so good at staying in the shadows and being undetectable. Well, my job as a thief helped me also.”

By now, she felt like she had said too much. Mithra hung her head, afraid to see her lover’s facial expression. His hand came under her chin and gently forced her to look at him, just like how it did when he kissed her a week ago. She stared into his eyes and swallowed thickly.

“Mithra,” he began, “I am so sorry that you had to experience that. I did not know that your skills were the results of such traumatic events.” He pulled her in for a tight hug, her head buried in his neck and his hand stroking her hair. 

“You are such a strong person. I have seen the compassion you exhibit and the hard work you put into everything you do. You have overcome so much adversity, yet you still have a kind heart.” He pulled away slightly to caress her cheek, looking into her eyes yet again.

“I love you so much, Mithra, and I promise that I will do everything within my ability to protect you. If anyone tries to hurt you, they will have to go through me first.” By now, Mithra was blinking back tears of love and adoration. She slammed her lips against his in a long, passionate kiss, her arms wrapped around his neck and his arms around her waist. She knew he was the one for her, and he knew it too. They separated for air, resting their foreheads together. 

“Sephy, you were the first man to catch my eye and the first man I fell in love with. I will always be by your side,” she said, her voice full of raw emotions. By now, there was an evident sleepiness in her voice, and, despite trying her best to look at him, her eyes were drooping. Sephiroth chuckled and kissed her nose in thanks.

“Someone is falling asleep. Why don’t we call it a night?” Mithra nodded eagerly, turning off the lamps. Sephiroth laid on his back, extending an arm to her. She happily nestled against him, her head on his bare chest. She could hear the calming rhythm of his heart beating. His arm came to wrap around her waist, and she tangled her legs with his. Peaceful slumber overcame her almost immediately, and her mouth was frozen in a small smile.

“Good night, my love,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. He soon drifted off as well, looking forward to what the future held for the both of them.

[heath-ur]

00Q Kinktober - Day 7

Prompt List ; Ao3  Pairing: Bond x Q  Prompt: Sixty-Nine  Warnings: Smut, No Beta

Me: I need to get faster at these. Only 100-300 words of lead-up & 500-600 words of smut. No more auxiliary characters. Go. 

Also Me: So let’s do nearly 700 words of unnecessary plot and make R lesbian.

Brain, why?   

The next afternoon, Q is still doing his best not to show his subordinates just how sore his ass is. He’s not sure how successful he’s been able to hide it from R or Moneypenny; going by their smug looks, not much, so he just eyes them smugly right back. ‘Yes, my arse is sore,’ he hopes his looks covey, ‘but it was so worth it.’ Going by their eye-rolls, he thinks they get it. 

Despite the distraction, he is able to complete 3 projects and assists 002 with breaching the security of her weapons-dealing mark. They gather enough intel that she’ll be returning to London in the next 48 hours. All-in-all, he thinks he deserves to be a little smug. 

So of course that’s when Bond walks into Q branch. Damn. Q knew he was forgetting something. 

He knows - he knows - that neither Bond or Alec consider these little liaisons as going steady. There has been no talk about exclusivity, they both still fuck during missions with or without honeypots. And that’s fine. Q isn’t one to be jealous - it’s a waste of productivity and energy. And he’s used to having multiple and infrequent partners. That’s what happens when you work with a governmental spy agency. 

However, he also knows that the two blonds are quite good friends. And also know how to kill with their thumbs. When he started this he didn't know that they would keep coming back for this long; he hadn’t realized that he would need to tell them about each other. Honestly, he’d thought that after the first successful mission each, the agents would lose interest. But of course they can’t even follow their own usual patterns. 

So this leaves Q standing at his platform station, hands planted on his sit-stand desk, as he faces a post-mission-high double-oh that wants a booty call while Q’s booty is off-the-table this time around. Q nods in Bond’s direction and cuts his eyes to the office-space he rarely uses since he prefers to stand among his subordinates. 

Bond nods back and wanders into the small, separated space. R gives Q a glance over her tablet as she swings by his desk with a new cup of tea. Q signs and takes a sip of the tea. His voice is as dry as the desert when he speaks up, “Alert security if I’m not back out in 5?”

R snorts and rolls her eyes, “And have them walk in to you being buggered? No thanks, boss. You’ve got about 30 minutes until that meeting with HR.” 

Oh, big buggering fuck. He forgot about that, too. Alec must have shorted out his brain last night. He hums and takes a bigger swing of his tea. “I suppose that’s another option.”

R sighs. Q isn’t sure how she makes it both exasperated and wistful. “If 002 ever fancies me back, you best be as understanding as I’m being right now.” 

Q nods, “If you find yourself a lady worthy of your brilliance, you can always borrow my office.” He turns and winks at her before making his way to the office. 

Inside, Bond is sitting on the futon that takes up a good third of the room while he looks at the lone Home Bargains art print on the opposing wall. He looks up and smirks as Q walks in and locks the door. “You know, not that I’m opposed to office sex, but I was planning on offering you dinner again.”

Q shrugs and crosses his arms, “I’ve 4 more hours, at least. No sense in you waiting. However, full disclosure, I’ve only 30 minutes and my arse isn’t an option at this time. I’m too sore.” 

Bond’s eyebrows slowly rise higher on his face as Q speaks, but his smile never waivers. “Oh? Well, I hope it was at least worth it. Anyone I know?” He waggles said eyebrows, gesturing with his hand for Q to step closer. 

Q steps until he’s only an arms reach away, humming. “Well, I have a type, you see. Something about blonds and muscles and men with licenses to kill.” He shrugs nonchalantly and loses the last of his nervous energy as Bond’s grin widens.

Bond lunges forward to wrap his palms gently at Q’s hips to drag him forward. “So, you’re Alec’s little kitten, hmm? He was singing your praises this morning.” 

Q slides one of his knees between Bond’s thighs to rest it on the futon’s edge, draping his arms loosely on Bond’s shoulders. “Do you two always gossip about your conquests?” 

Bond laughs and rubs his palms soothingly up Q’s back. “Only the good ones. And never enough to breach the virtues of their privacy. But, oh, the things we’re going to be talking about after this.” He suddenly reaches a hand up and grips Q’s curls in a tight grip, tugging him down enough for a kiss. 

Q can’t help his startled moan as he opens up his mouth for the kiss, letting Bond control the depth as he keeps gripping and twisting at the strands in his hand. When he’s let up, he knows his eyes must be dazed and he can feel the flush in his cheeks and down his neck. “So, no concerns, then?”

Bond confirms with another kiss, this one lasting only long enough to make Q whine as Bond pulls back and angles Q’s head to kiss down his jaw and throat to bite against the fabric of Q’s shirt. “30 minutes?” 

Q nods.

“Well, best make it worth it,” Bond winks and starks working on Q’s trouser buttons. Q gets with the program and begins to reciprocate, fighting with Bond’s buckle until it’s bested. 

Cocks freed, Bond pulls two condoms from his suit jacket pocket and rips one open to put onto his own cock. At the same time, he shifts and settles until he’s laying sideways on the futon, pants sliding off and down his legs. Q begins following him but gets stopped by a palm on his hip. “Turn around, Q, let me see Alec’s hard work.” 

Q blushes and his cock jumps as he fumbles putting the condom on. He lets his pants fall full to the ground, tripping out of his shoes to scramble onto the futon and swinging one leg to straddle Bond’s thighs, facing Bond’s feet. The man wears sock garters, the functional (non-functional) part of his brain thought as Bond’s previous words scrolled through the other half of his brain. 

Bond puts his hands back to Q’s hips and arranges the man as he sees fit, to get a better look. He hums and draws one finger around a still- tender mark of Alec’s index on the back of Q’s thigh. “Oh, these will be beautiful bruises. It really is too bad that he didn’t take pictures like he had wanted to.” 

Q’s traitorous cock jumps  again. He had to curl into himself and let his hands drop to either side of Bond’s knees. “20 minutes.” Q fails at trying to sound unaffected. 

Bond lets out an affected sad sigh. “We both best get to it, then.” And then in one motion he pulls Q’s hips closer to his head as he slides further down the futon to take Q’s cock in his mouth. It’s heat and the flutter of Bond’s tongue and the tapered rumble of his trapped laugh.

Q curses and takes a breath before he returns the favor and presses his mouth around Bond’s cock, sucking and working his tongue, trying to get his self-possession back by proving his skill. If Bond’s approving hum is any indication, he’s succeeding. Of course, that hum is accompanied by a controlled roll of Bond’s hip, making Q take more until Bond’s cock is being swallowed in the preservation of Q’s gag-reflex. 

Q sucks and rolls his own hips, smacking at Bond’s thigh in reprimand as the older man presses a thumb into one of Q’s forming bruises just to make him jump. He can’t help but squirm, even with his dick held in Bond’s mouth. The other hand gripping and fondling his bullocks doesn't help. Q would try working on Bond’s, but to be honest he needs both wobbling arms to hold himself up. 

Instead, he rises off until only Bond’s tip is still inside his mouth, takes a deep breath, and goes back down in three quick bobs, holding at the tip against just to repeat the pattern. The noises are slick and sound loud in the room. Q has a moment of concern about sound-proofing or lack thereof, but quickly forgets the concern as Bond does something with his tongue. Oh, maybe he could learn that.

The whole experience is a race to the finish-line and both parties cross nearly at the same time with matching thrusts and hot suction, faces messy and breathless. Q pulls back onto his knees and checks his watch. 

4 minutes. “Fuck.”

[redrobin-detective]

Beachtime Follies

It’s hard coordinating schedules with an 11 year old street kid.

“Hey Cap, can you switch shifts with me? I need New Years off because Carol wants to go to this New Years party and I need off monitor duty,” Billy looked over at Hal over his borrowed, too big sunglasses. Clark had declared that they were working too hard and proposed a beach day; Bruce had grumbled but offered up one of his private beaches anyway. He was probably getting way more work done here than he did between Dick and Jason bugging him.

“Sure,” he shrugged, going back to the comic book that Clark had borrowed him. 

“Way to pawn off crappy shifts on the 10 year old,” Ollie muttered not too quietly out of the corner of his mouth. Billy groaned quietly to himself, settling in for another argument about him but not with him. 

“Hey we all voted to keep the kid in the League,” Hal defended, “that means he’s got just as much power and responsibility as the rest of us. I was looking at the schedule and saw he was available. What do you want in return, Bill? I can’t do Christmas but I can take your Memorial Day.”

“It really doesn’t matter, Mr. Jordan,” Billy sighed, “it’s not like I ever have any plans over the holidays.” He instantly regretted his words as a familiar hush fell over the happy little group. They may have accepted him as Captain Marvel and, reluctantly, allowed him to continue living his life but that doesn’t mean they’re happy about it.

“While we’re on the subject of schedules, we should set aside times for regular meetings,” Bruce interrupted before it got too awkward. He looked over his laptop, commanding everyone’s attention and drawing it away from Billy to his immense relief. He set down his comic and scooted closer.

“We normally meet every Wednesday, is that still acceptable?” He asked as everyone else whipped out their phones, tablets or pocket calendars. Billy looked down at the sand and wrote a big W. 

“I’m actually taking some night classes on painting and most happen to fall on Wednesdays, any chance we can move to Thursday?” Diana asked. Everyone went back over their phones. 

“Some of my business meetings are on Thursdays but this would be a good excuse to leave early,” Ollie said with a wry grin.

“Actually Thursdays work better more me, Iris also works late on Thursdays so that leaves us Wednesdays free for date nights,” Barry added, furiously typing on his tablet. Billy wiped out the W he had written in the sand and replaced it with a Th. 

“Do you,” Clark said next to him hesitantly, “do you need something to write on?” 

“Nah, I got it all up here,” Billy said, tapping at his temple.

“Well how do you keep track of your schedule?” Barry asked, holding up his tablet calendar with all it’s multicolored dates and appointments.

“I memorize the schedule when its comes out and then look at the bank sign for what day it is,” Billy nodded. Honestly it’d been working out pretty well so far, he’d only missed a few meetings and it was mostly because he’d been held up.

“Christ, as soon as we’re done here I’m buying you a phone, kid,” Ollie said with an eyeroll.

“I don’t need a phone,” Billy sighed, “It’d only make me a target for theft and, besides, I don’t have electricity in my building to charge it or anything.”

“I thought you were electricity?” Hal squinted.

“Yeah but magic lightning doesn’t really work well with technology,” Billy frowned. “I tried to fix the microwave at the local shelter and it ended up exploding.” He still hasn’t gone back to that shelter. How exactly was he supposed to explain how he got bits of microwave parts embedded in the ceiling? 

“We all have our own systems, if you say it’s not a problem then we must simply accept it,” Diana interrupted. “Now back to business, what day are we having the communal birthday party? We almost always hold it in June, would the 29th work for everyone?” Billy wrote 29 in the sand and stared at it until the number locked in his head. He needed to find something to bring to that.

“Alright, I'll put that in the master schedule and send it out to everyone. Billy, would you like a printed copy?” Bruce asked.

“I’m fine really,” Billy insisted, standing up and stretching. “If you guys really want to help me, you can help me build the biggest sandcastle imaginable.” 

“Oh I am so in,” Hal said throwing his phone over his shoulder and sprinting to the shoreline. “Last one there is a rotten egg.” Barry and Diana followed at super speed; Billy gaped for a minute before chasing after. 

“Cheaters! If I had the Speed of Mercury now you’d all be on your asses”

[bygosscarmine]

W: Worlds Apart - Volume 3: Worlds Aligned

Kang Chul X Oh Yeon Joo - Fix-It Fic (T)

Read from beginning or find previous chapters here: Stories

The closer they get to the moment of truth with Chul returning to W, the harder it is to pretend that it doesn’t matter that they’re going to be separated. But how does it get quantified that right now they’re saying goodbye and half hoping to not see each other again? Is it now the time to be dealing with things going unspoken? Will there ever be another a chance to say it?

Chapter 103 - Sometimes Preparing for the Worst Sets You Free (1497 words)

Yeon Joo met with Chul for lunch at some point every day to plan it through the week. They didn't always agree. Sometimes Soo Bong was there, and invaluable because he had the amazing assistant's attribute of taking notes only of the good ideas or flawed but interesting ones, and leaving the rest. There were arguments: Yeon Joo believed that since she'd already been pulled into W once there was no way for her avoid going again. Chul thought since she was thinking about him when it happened, and going through a doorway of some kind, she could just avoid this behavior.

"So I'm going to be hovering," she asked, "waiting to send you the evidence and tools you need, while also not thinking about you any time I need to leave the room? How is that going to work?"

"You're going to have to just be more disciplined," he said pitilessly.

"If you find it easy to put me from your mind, that makes sense, since you're the center of the universe. I'm different. I've been sick with worry about you and the things connected to this like my father, my work, for months. It feels like years. My mind is not so easily taken off you and W, Chul."

She hadn't meant to get angry, or let it show--and now she was starting to cry. Which didn't make her feel less angry. She got up and left the kitchen in the studio, where they'd been trying to figure out the contingencies, and went out into the garden for air.

She was almost back to herself when Chul came out after her. Because it was only almost she didn't turn. She felt a hesitant brush on her hand, and chose not to pull away.

His arms enveloped her from behind, his chin against her shoulder. She stayed with her head bent, but gently clasped his arms in her hands, noticing that he smelled right now of the same store-brand shampoo as Soo Bong, not the spicy expensive W-world products of his own choosing. And she wanted to laugh that she was noticing this, but he was saying, "Thank you for thinking of me. Thank you for making me real. It's not that I can easily put you from my mind, it's that I don't have the power to bring you to me without you wanting to come."

"I'm not sure that's true," she said. "You're very single-minded. And I haven't been part of your daily life the way you've been part of mine."

His grip softened, and he said, "Maybe before I came here that was true. Now it's not."

The words brushed her throat, and then his lips touched the skin of her neck. She had to pull away. She kept hold of one of his hands as she turned, though. Afraid to see his face she didn't raise her head. She only said, "I don't want you to think of me more. I want our plan to work and for us to have to move on. And succeed."

Finally she looked up. She'd been expecting something like the raw fear or panic that she'd seen before Chul had erased his memory, but instead these eyes were gentle and searching hers. Worried about how she felt.

Not that this was something Chul had previously been incapable of--the quiet balcony dinner to draw out their time together had been evidence of that kind of thoughtfulness. It just felt more like co-operation than a gift now.

"We're arguing about petty things because we know we've figured out as much as we possibly can," he said. "We can keep talking in circles and even coming up with ideas, but ultimately we've done everything we can. The next big unknown is there waiting for us to write across its pages."

"And I have two more meetings this afternoon before I'm done here."

She went back into the house, aware of him walking just a pace behind her, and avoiding Soo Bong's eye when they re-entered the house. Which was easy because Soo Bong was clearly pretending nothing had happened, either.

He was really a genius assistant.

-

Chul was sick of many things about the current situation: the lack of sleep, the ambiguous smells of Soo Bong's apartment, the constant rattle in his chest of the traffic. He couldn't quite say to himself that his time with Yeon Joo made it all worth it, mainly because it was a kind of delicate torture to be in her presence. And it was such brief meetings stretched out by waiting. The other things were harder to bear when he had to pretend to be business-like in his goodbyes, to be unaffected by her nearness. And yet...getting to see her at all was a gift. One he was swiftly losing.

He'd found himself playing a character, not alien to his nature, but borrowed partly from what he'd seen of his previous self's confidence. One where he was ruthlessly logical, and scientific. Which he was. But it was a useful shield when he had to sit across a table from Yeon Joo and act like solving the problem of his return to W felt important. More important than solving how abandoning her once made it was difficult to be together now.

He wasn't as good at being cool as he thought he could be. She said it was impossible for her to stop thinking about him, to prevent coming to W. "You'll have to be more disciplined," was his reply, cutting rather than casual.

And he hurt her, which he hated. Why did he have to always do this?

If she'd feared or mistrusted him, she would have faced him when he came toward her, after spending an anguished few minutes wondering if he should leave her alone or go to her. She didn't pull away when he tested his ground again, fingers gently reaching to her hand. She waited. She folded into the hug, too, and the trepidation he'd seen in her face was confirmed as he thought.

They wanted each other. They'd just made it all so difficult. It wasn't going to stop being difficult.

He told her that maybe before he'd come to her world (and lived waiting to see her like a flower waiting on the sun, not that he said that much) he could have disciplined his mind that way. (He had disciplined his mind to not think about her in his months of exile. Or he had tried.) Now it wasn't possible.

She'd pulled away, had to leave. He understood that. He understood it even as he sat in stung silence with Soo Bong once she'd wrapped up their meeting and gone.

"Just thinking," Soo Bong said, "you could probably go by her place tonight. If you really think tomorrow is the day."

Chul stared at him.

Soo Bong's ears were red, but he didn't waver under Chul's gaze.

"Things that happen here don't really make it into the comics, so there's that, too. And while the tablet's still off, you're double-sure."

"What will I say as an excuse to be there? We just said we were finished planning."

"We have three hours to come up with something convincing," Soo Bong said. "And I'm a writer, you're a protagonist. It can't be that hard."

Chul declined his help in this matter. Still, now the idea was in his head he couldn't get it out. And when Soo Bong got the car started and gave him a quick questioning look, he said, "Sure. Let me just text her."

All he said was, Can I see you now?

And all she said was, Yes.

He forgot to say goodbye when he got out of the car, he was so focused on what he should say to her. The car pulled away without lingering, Soo Bong doing his part to strand Chul where he wanted to be. Not that anything Soo Bong was probably imagining was likely to happen.

Best not to think about what anyone might imagine, even himself.

She opened the door to the apartment, skin slightly pink from a shower after work. A sweater softened her outline and her eyes met his now like she was asking a question she wasn't sure he could answer.

Her finger came up to her lips, so he didn't speak. The television was playing just around the corner, and he followed her as quietly as possible, avoiding the living room, into her room. He had forgotten anything he had prepared to say, so it was just as well he had to stay silent in the walk through the halls. He was too overwhelmed by the gingery tea smell of her soap, by the way the line of her side curved when she held the door for him to go into her room. He remembered the taste he'd almost gotten of her skin that afternoon, and it filled the room now.

[quicksilversquared]

How to Announce a Pregnancy Chapter 4

Several years after the event of How to Fake a Marriage, Adrien and Marinette are ready to expand their family. When it comes to breaking the news, though…

Well, some people are harder to tell than others.

Month Eight, Week 1. Mr. Agreste returned from his trip in the middle of the night. He was too tired and grouchy from the plane ride (and also a very minor sunburn) for them to even try to slip in a family dinner before the gala that he was insisting they attend.

It was honestly getting ridiculous at this point. Or maybe getting ridiculous was the wrong phrasing.

It already had been ridiculous. It was just worse now.

"If anyone knew to look for it, they would be able to tell that I'm pregnant," Marinette said as she scanned her reflection in the mirror. "Otherwise…"

"Considering that you'll be giving birth in a couple weeks, it's insane that it isn't immediately obvious," Adrien commented. He scanned Marinette's dress, looking it up and down. With the draping sweater hiding the side view of the bump and a gorgeous gold necklace drawing attention to Marinette's neck and away from the bump that was almost entirely hidden by the black empire-waist dress, it would be a rare person who picked up that Marinette was pregnant. "I know exactly where to look, but as long as no one is looking too close they won't pick it up. And no one should have any reason to, really."

"I just worry that someone will figure it out partway through the evening." Marinette fussed with her dress once more, than straightened. "Hopefully they wouldn't just blurt it out in front of a group. Private congratulations I can deal with."

"And that's the most we would get, I think. You don't look that far along, especially not in that dress." Adrien gave Marinette's arm a quick squeeze. "You look radiant, love."

"Thank you."

The Gorilla picked them up, since the gala was a bit out of the city limits and neither Adrien nor Marinette wanted to borrow her parents' bakery van again. Mr. Agreste had already headed out, of course- he had insisted on overseeing the last of the preparations- so they had the car to themselves and were free to update the Gorilla on the progress of Marinette's pregnancy. He listened with an interested expression though, as usual, he didn't make any comments.

"We have approximately three weeks left to tell Father," Adrien commented, and wow, saying that out loud really cemented the fact that there was not a lot of time left. "We're talking to Nathalie, of course, to try to get dinner scheduled, but she only has so much control over Father's schedule."

"I've practically resigned myself to showing up for dinner a couple months in the future with Emma in my arms and letting Mr. Agreste find out then," Marinette mumbled into her hands. "That's just how this is going right now."

"I think the papers might have picked up on her by then," Adrien pointed out helpfully. "And honestly, I refuse to hide our kid from the world just because Father can't make time for us. If he finds out the news via tabloid or some investor congratulating him on his granddaughter, so be it."

"I was curious, so I decided to look up stories of other people who didn't discover their babies as early as usual," Marinette told him as they merged onto the highway. "And there were cases where people got to the giving labor part without realizing. And they must have had even smaller bumps than me."

Adrien let out a low whistle. "And we were rushing to get all caught up on all of the tests and forms and whatnot when we found out at four and a half months. I can't even imagine getting to nine."

"To be fair, some of them went into labor early. But yeah, the point still stands." Marinette caught herself mid-yawn and made a face. "Ugh. I rested all day today, I shouldn't be tired."

Adrien glanced over at her. "How is leave treating you?"

"I like sleeping in. And I got one of my projects done, so there's that." Marinette shrugged. "I'm normally going to be doing more during the day, but I just wanted to be rested up for tonight. Not that it's made any difference, it seems. Maybe it's just because it's dark outside and I'm hungry."

"We'll leave early," Adrien promised. "We can say that you've been working hard at work- which is true, even if you've been doing a lot of work from home recently. Maybe we can bring up the idea of scheduling a family dinner next weekend when we see my father."

Marinette made a bit of a face, but she tried to hide it. Adrien couldn't blame her. He was starting to think that they would have to wait two weeks minimum for his father to even consider scheduling a dinner with them, and that would put Marinette at eight months, three weeks.

Traffic was light, and it didn't take overly long for them to arrive at the gala. Adrien and Marinette wove through the crowds, greeting a few people that they recognized and avoiding others that- well, that they recognized but had no interest in talking to. Mostly people who thought that Adrien should return to being a model and Marinette should join Gabriel since she was part of the family now and had no problem telling them exactly that.

"And Father is busy, as always," Adrien sighed once they caught sight of Mr. Agreste, surrounded by designers and investors and department heads clamoring for his attention. "He's not going to work through that crowd until after we've left."

"How deeply unfortunate."

Adrien laughed. Marinette looked as though she wouldn't mind that at all, and frankly he couldn't blame her. Not with how all of their conversations with his father recently had gone.

"We should try to talk to Nathalie, at least," Adrien decided a few minutes later. "She might have an idea of what his schedule is going to look like and if we could schedule a dinner."

Marinette glanced over at the gaggle of people waiting to catch his father's attention and made another face. Adrien followed her gaze and this time, he spotted Nathalie in the middle of the fray, looking harried as she typed things into her tablet.

Things weren't looking hopeful, then.

Still, that didn't meant that they couldn't at least try to have fun. The food provided was delicious, of course- Tikki enjoyed the dessert spread while Plagg visited the cheese plates, and both Adrien and Marinette found things to eat- and there were a few people who were decent enough company to talk to. Mr. Agreste finally worked his way over to greet them, though it turned out to be because he wanted to show them off to a few investors. They managed to exchange a few pleasantries, and Adrien was struck once again by how stilted and unnatural his conversations with his father were compared to his conversations with Marinette's parents. If they were talking with Tom instead of Gabriel, they would have already exchanged at least a couple puns.

His father didn't pun in front of investors. He also didn't pun when they were having family dinner at the mansion. Adrien had had more enjoyable job interviews.

That actually wasn't an exaggeration, which was pretty sad.

It wasn't long before Mr. Agreste moved on, stepping away with his eyes on another potential customer that he clearly wanted to set up an appointment with. Before he went, though, he gave a once-over of Marinette's outfit. Adrien tensed up for a moment, wondering if his father had somehow picked up on her teensy-tiny baby bump, but that wasn't the case.

"I would like to remind you that, for future events, ladies should be wearing at least a short heel," Mr. Agreste told Marinette stiffly, gesturing to her feet. "Particularly short ladies. Flats should be left for informal events."

And then he turned and left.

"Adrien, will you be mad at me if I strangle your father?" Marinette asked after a second of shocked silence had passed. "Or whack him over the head with my oh-so-unfashionable flats?"

"Only because you'd be exerting yourself without Tikki's protection," Adrien assured her. "Otherwise, I would tell you to go for it."

Marinette laughed. "I bet I could take him down with one hit. It wouldn't be exertion at all."

Adrien tried and failed to not smile at that.

Nathalie managed to catch them right as they headed towards the door to leave. She looked a bit hassled, though she managed a smile for them.

"He's going to end up putting himself back at the same level of stress," Nathalie told them. "Which I've told him, but he's convinced that he's fine. I've scheduled regular doctor's appointments, though, just to be safe. And several screenings that his regular doctor recommended."

Adrien nodded, a whisper of worry in his stomach. His father was going to work himself into an early grave, he really was. There was only so much that Nathalie could do to help.

"Make sure that you aren't overworking yourself," Marinette told Nathalie. "Surely you could use some help, too, to back off on the workload."

"I hired two helpers while Gabriel was on holiday," Nathalie assured them. "And set limits on how late I'm willing to work on normal workdays, blocked off weekends for myself, and made a resolution to actually use all of the vacation time that I'm given every year."

Adrien nodded. That was good. He didn't want to lose Nathalie to overworking.

"But enough about that- how are you?" Nathalie asked Marinette. She glanced downwards. "You don't- excuse my observation- you don't look eight months along."

"There's a combination of factors keeping my bump in," Marinette said cheerfully. "But Emma is the right size and is doing well, so we're not worried about it."

"I certainly wasn't judging- I know plenty of women who wish they could have been that small when they were as far along as you, Adrien's mother included." Nathalie smiled. "And I don't think anyone noticed tonight, which is nice. I'm sure it's great to not have strangers cooing over your stomach."

"My mom once punched someone who wouldn't get out of her personal bubble when she was pregnant with me," Adrien told Marinette. "She broke their nose, I'm pretty sure. I think it made headlines. Father wasn't pleased."

"He's never pleased, though, really."

Adrien tried his best not to laugh at that. On his other side, he could see Nathalie fighting with a smirk.

"I'll let you two go, since I'm sure you're tired," Nathalie said once she had sufficiently composed herself. "And I'll let you know if any openings for dinner come up. Your father has already filled up all of his lunches and dinners for this week with appointments, against my advice," she told Adrien. "There should still be openings for next week, once things die down a bit. You'll be at- what?"

"I'm at eight months and one week now, and eight month-two by next weekend," Marinette told her. She was frowning. "I'd be worried about how long telling Mr. Agreste has been put off if he wasn't literally doing this to himself."

"I'd say that after this, you'll get a good four to five years of him never canceling a dinner on you again," Nathalie said. A small smile slid onto her face. "I personally can't wait to see his reaction. Promise me that you'll make sure that I'm in the room when you tell him."

"I think we can manage that much." Adrien grinned at Nathalie. She had never seemed this devious when he was younger. "As long as you don't decide to leave the city on whatever night we finally manage to pin my father down for dinner."

"I never leave Paris, you know that." Nathalie glanced back through the crowd. Mr. Agreste was gesturing to her, looking irritated that she wasn't right by his side. "I have to go. Good night, you two."

"Goodnight, Nathalie."

  As Nathalie had expected, week eight months, two weeks didn't even get as far as having a dinner scheduled. Apparently investors and potential clients came before family, so Mr. Agreste was kept in the dark for one week longer.

At least none of the tabloids had picked up Marinette's pregnancy. It was probably a combination of two main factors- the fact that Adrien hadn't modeled seriously for years (he made exceptions for Marinette's designs, of course) meant that the tabloids really weren't that interested in him anymore, and then Marinette's small baby bump was easily hidden under a loose sweater or dress. They hadn't really been in the public eye that much, either, largely not going to any high-profile events.

The week after that- eight months, three weeks- came with a canceled dinner. Nathalie sounded exasperated as she delivered the news.

"That really is ridiculous," Marinette said after Adrien had thanked Nathalie and hung up. "And after he made such a fuss about wanting you to live in Paris instead of London! He sees you about as much as he would if we were in London."

"It's all about knowing that he could visit easily if he wanted to." Adrien made a face at his phone. "Just like how he wanted me to live at home, but then never ate dinner with me, and never dropped in to chat when I was back from London. He just wants to know that he would have the option." He sighed, wishing that his mom was still around. She would have way better about spending time with them. But there was no point on lingering on what-ifs and what-could-have-beens. "D'you wanna call up Nino and Alya and see if they want to go out for dinner? My father isn't the only one who gets to have dinner plans."

"Oh, I like that." Marinette perked up, nearly upsetting Masha and Sasha, who were competing for her lap space. "Alya's been swearing up and down that her bump is easily twice as big as mine now, and I want to see."

"I'll call them up right away," Adrien promised. "And even if they can't come out, we can go out. It would be nice to have one more date night before Emma comes."

As it turned out, Alya and Nino were free and 100% willing to head out to a casual restaurant for dinner with them. They hadn't gotten to hang out for a couple weeks, since Alya was still working and also had family visiting from out of town, and baby shopping had taken up all of the time not occupied by that.

And as it turned out, Alya was 100% correct about her baby bump being twice as big as Marinette's. In fact, twice as big was a bit of an understatement.

"Yeah, you're definitely showing," Marinette said with a laugh as they all got settled around the table and accepted their menus from the waitress. "See, that's why I couldn't believe it when the doctor told me that I was already at four and a half months, because that's what I think of when I think of five months along."

"I wish I could just stop at this size," Alya admitted. "It's quite big enough, thanks. Big enough to let people know that I'm pregnant, not just gaining weight, but not quite at balloon stage." She grinned. "But all this pregnancy talk- have you looked at the Ladyblog lately?"

Adrien and Marinette both blinked at that. "Uh, no?"

"Yeah, a lot of people haven't been, but I've been getting submissions and-look!" Alya pulled out her phone, pulling up the Ladyblog with a few practiced taps. "I mean, I always get photos, because people know that I'll publish them and they like having an audience. But I noticed something last night, so I did a bit of digging!"

Adrien and Marinette exchanged a nervous look. They didn't know where Alya was going with this, and considering that it was technically them that she was talking about, that wasn't comforting.

"Look!" Alya announced, shoving her phone at them once the Ladyblog had loaded. "There's one photo of Ladybug from last year, then one from two-ish months ago, and last month, and this month, and last night- and do you see that?"

"You mean, do we see the bright red circle that you've drawn around Ladybug's stomach?" Adrien asked dryly. "Yeah, it's kind of hard to miss."

"No, not that- the baby bump!" Alya exclaimed. "It's still small- just based off of my bump, I'm thinking she's at three months at most, probably- but it's definitely there. That skin-tight supersuit doesn't hide anything."

Adrien hid his smile. Oh, Alya was so far off. That was probably a good thing, actually- other people would probably assume the same, and as long as Marinette didn't go out as Ladybug for a couple months after Emma was born, people would keep that assumption.

Or if she went out, but there was some way to pad the suit to make it look as though she was still pregnant. That might not be a good idea, though, since there were bound to be people who would think that Ladybug shouldn't still be exercising as a superhero when she was pregnant.

(Which was dumb, of course, since both Tikki and their doctor were fine with the exercise (though the OBGYN admittedly didn't know about the magical part of it), but since when did that ever stop anyone from judging?)

"So if I'm right with how pregnant she is, Ladybug'll probably be giving birth a couple months after me! Just think, Emma and Elodie might end up being in the same class as Ladybug and Chat Noir's kid!" Alya was practically bouncing in her seat. "It's so cool that she and Chat Noir are hitting the same milestones as we are! I wonder if they'll dress their kid up in the Ladybug and Chat Noir baby clothes. I mean, on one had that could be a super obvious giveaway, but on the other hand everyone in Paris does that, so maybe not?"

"If their family and friends know- which they have to, right?- then what harm would it do?" Nino countered. "No one on the street is going to think anything of it. Though I do wonder how many amateur sleuths are going to be trying to look up who got married after Ladybug and Chat Noir announced their engagement, and then at which of those couples is going to have a kid."

Adrien and Marinette exchanged a look. They had timed the release of their superhero engagement photo so that people would by and large count out their wedding as a possibility, and it seemed to have worked. Then with a little help- once again, Adrien would have to ask Tikki about potentially padding the suit so Marinette could go out and still look pregnant after she gave birth- they could use the news of their superhero pregnancy to throw people off of their trail.

"Anyway, we've been discussing this ever since Alya noticed the bump in the photos," Nino added to Adrien and Marinette. "She's excited, I'm not sure if you could tell?"

They all laughed at that.

"I just think that it's cool, that's all," Alya defended herself. "Like, I thought that we would never even know 'cause she would stop going out for a bit. Or maybe that would be just as obvious, if Chat Noir was still going out. But we haven't gotten any new news about them for ages, so all I've been posting is old footage that people submitted and patrol photos, plus any new things that I've been sent about the old superheroes. It's not much, really, not when I used to be posting things every other day."

"Well, that's to be expected, since Hawkmoth is gone," Marinette pointed out. Adrien watched as her hand rested protectively on her baby bump. He knew that she was a little self-conscious about it, since she hadn't really gotten used to people really seeing it and commenting on it- well, besides the people that they had told, that was. Finding out that people had noticed that Ladybug was pregnant had come as a surprise.

Adrien hoped that the news wouldn't stop Marinette from wanting to go out as Ladybug again. They enjoyed their exercise time together, and it was a good way to spend a clear evening when they didn't have company over.

"And it's a good thing too, because trying to balance a full-time job and full-time Ladyblogging and a new baby would be really hard," Nino added. "And I'm sure Ladybug and Chat Noir appreciate being able to sit back and enjoy their evenings instead of having to be called out to save the city."

"Anyway, on the whole baby theme- your Nonna is in town now, right?" Alya asked Marinette. "Since Emma could come early?"

Marinette nodded. "Yeah, she arrived- three days ago, I think? She's been meeting up with some old friends and exploring the city so she isn't underfoot at the bakery. I met up with her for lunch yesterday and let me tell you, she is about ready to deck Adrien's father. She thinks that I should be able to wear maternity fashion that would actually show off what bump I do have, and that the worry about tabloids is what is keeping me from doing that. But I don't know if I would necessarily want to wear super form-fitted stuff out and about even if I could."

Alya looked surprised. "Really? But I'm sure you could find some super cute pregnancy outfits. And you would rock them, honestly."

"I wouldn't want strangers coming up and commenting about 'oh! A baby!' or trying to talk about me being pregnant or- or any of the stuff that I've heard about," Marinette said, shrugging. "You've talked about it before, with how annoying it is to have people doing commentary on your pregnancy. And I just don't want to have to deal with that. Besides, loose clothes are comfortable."

Nino made a face. "Okay, fair enough."

"Yeah, I nearly decked a lady a week ago when she was asking if I was planning on bottle- or breast-feeding," Alya said. She made a face. "Like, who are you, lady? Mind your own business."

Adrien grinned. "Marinette was considering whacking my father over the head with her shoe when he criticized her for wearing flats at the gala. Is the urge to hit people a pregnant people thing, or…?"

"The urge to hit your father is a normal person thing," Nino corrected Adrien, who was dodging playful whacks from Marinette. "And the urge to hit nosy people is probably the same."

"I know, I know, I wanted to whack my father myself, I was just joking!" Adrien yelped. He sat up with a grin once Marinette finally let up. "And speaking of which- do you want me to really rub that comment of his in once we tell him? Just to make sure he knows how much of a jerk he's been?"

Marinette's smirk was vicious. "Only if I don't rub it in first."

Nino just shook his head, bemused. "I don't understand how your father dares to cancel stuff on you guys. I would be terrified to cross you two. Particularly when Mari's smirking like that."

Their waiter came back to get their order then, and conversation wandered onto what maternity leave was like for Marinette so far (filled with a fair bit of jittering around when she wasn't resting or making sure that everything was as ready as it could be) and what each couple had left to do (not much for Adrien and Marinette, but Nino and Alya still had some stocking up to do).

"My office is turning into Elodie's nursery," Alya told them. "Which is fine, now that my book has gone to print. My stuff is going to stay in there for the time being, though. It's not like it takes up that much room, now that everything is sorted and put away."

"We had to move a chunk of Marinette's sewing room into our bedroom," Adrien said. He grinned at Marinette. "That does take up a bit of the room. But we'll manage."

"As long as I'm not trying to make twenty leather warrior outfits again, I shouldn't take up too much space," Marinette said with a laugh. "And I've mostly been getting screen-printing orders on commissions recently, since I put up a note on my site that said that I was pretty busy and only wanted smaller projects. That barely takes up any space at all, since I just do the designs on my tablet and then-"

"And then have to fill up your entire living room with clothesline to hang pieces up to dry?" Alya chimed in, looking dubious. "I remember how much space that takes, Mari. Don't act like it's just a tiny side project."

"I outsource the printing part of most of my screen-printing orders now," Marinette told her friend. "I have a professional silkscreen printer doing the printing bit on those pieces, and I just come up with the design. It's faster and more cost-effective. And space-effective."

"And 'fewer chemical smells in our apartment'-effective" Adrien added with a laugh. "Which we all appreciate."

"I can do slightly more complex designs with a pro printer, too," Marinette added. "They cost more, of course, but they cost me more to make at home, too, and there was no guarantee that I would get it right. And I get a discount at the printer, since I'm such a regular customer."

"And then you get to keep all of the printing mess out of your house. Good idea." Alya nodded appreciatively. "...when did you start doing that?"

"Last year, I think. Or is it closer to two years now?" Marinette tipped her head to the side, considering. "I don't remember. I had been considering it for a bit before I switched, and shopping around for someone who would be good to work with long-term took a couple months. I just thought it might be a good idea because I really enjoy the designing part, but not the actual screen-making and printing part so much."

"And stuff was taking up so much space of our storage," Adrien added. "And it was taking up her evenings when Marinette had an order to do."

"You mean it was stinking up the place while you were home."

Adrien grinned and shrugged. "Yeah, well, even if you did try to do as much as possible outside, some smell still ended up in here."

"So anyway, my projects at home don't take up that much space right now," Marinette said loudly, ignoring Adrien's grin. "And they're very portable. So having half of my stuff in our bedroom and half in Emma's room should work until we get our three-bedroom apartment, however long that takes."

"Right, of course." Nino glanced up and hastily gestured to clear the table, just as their waiter arrived with their pizzas. They accepted their water refills, then eagerly dug in.

"So," Alya said as she loaded her plate. "So you have just about one week left, right? Are you excited?"

Marinette laughed. "Excited, nervous, occasionally terrified in case we mess up or somehow missed getting something important. It varies, really." Reaching over, she squeezed Adrien's hand. "I know it'll be all right, though. No matter what happens, I know that Adrien and I can handle it together."

[batfamily-trash]

Artistic S/O

Hi! Could i request an imagine of the batboys figuring out that their s/o is artistic? Thanks! : D

a/n: Alright folks, since there’s more than one type of art form each s/o is going to be a little bit different!

Dick Grayson:

You were into photography. All types of photography. Candid, still life, abstract, landscape, portrait, etc. The majority of the time you would take pictures of landscapes. Especially at night when you could see the city lights, stars, and moon. And that’s how Dick found about your hobby.

One random night you decided to go take a picture of the night sky because it looked nice and because the moon looked different than the rest of the nights. You had gone to the roof of your apartment building when Robin decided to check on what you were doing. You explained to him what you were doing and told him to not worry, but since he didn’t want to see Dick hurt he decided to stay with you to make sure you stayed out of trouble.

After taking multiple landscape pictures you had asked Robin if it was okay to take some pictures of him. At first, he refused but after a while, he gave in. Right after you took the fifth picture of Robin doing a somersault in the air your photography session was interrupted by a mad and worried Nightwing. Cue a little yelling match from Robin and Nightwing. You would stop them but nah, pictures were life!

When they realized you had taken pictures of them while they weren’t paying attention they stopped yelling at each other. Then a second photo session began!

Jason Todd:

You had a knack for art. Ever since you were a kid you would draw every day. Every. Single. Day. Nonstop. When you turned 13 a family member who made terrible life choices introduced you to spray paint. And you fell in love with it. You also fell in love with the adrenaline rush you would get everytime you had to run away from cops or angry people. It was amazing. You were the Queen/King of Graffiti writing. Eventually, all good things must come to an end. On one of your painting rounds, you were caught by Batman. This was when you were seventeen, so you were pissed. But he let you go because he noticed that you were painting over gang paintings, he also let you go with a warning.

Skip to three years later you had stopped ‘vandalizing’ but you still practiced drawing your designs in a sketchbook. You never showed anyone, not even Jason. Even though he was your boyfriend, your notebook was filled with evidence and you could get arrested. You know with Bruce being all Justicey! But today you had left your book and markers out on your shared bed, out in the open, visible. Yeah, that was stupid.

You were at the hospital because your idiotic family member got shot, and you had to go and fix things with the cops. You stayed there all night. Jason, on the other hand, had seen your book and was going through it. Studying every image and detail. When you returned home the next morning you found him with your sketchbook in hand, waiting for you.

You thought that he was going to be mad but instead he was happy and proud. He loved your art. Especially since you were one of the best and well-known graffiti artists in Gotham. He thanked you for making the city a bit colorful. You told him of all your adventures and stories. After telling him, Jason took you to the paint store to buy spray paint so the both of you could create art. Needless to say, Bruce was pissed, but he didn’t do anything because he enjoyed seeing his son happy.

Tim Drake:

Digital art is your life. Drawing on your tablet, phone or laptop helped you calm down during stressful moments. Which happen almost every hour of the day. Tim knew that you enjoyed digital art so every time he saw you drawing he would leave you alone, but what the detective didn’t know was that you had a blog dedicated to your art.

You were going to tell him, but you being the very impressive procrastinator, you put it off. The only reason Tim found out about your blog was that he saw Steph and Cass on the batcomputer scrolling through your art. He later joined them through the sightseeing.

It’s also worth mentioning that you had drawn the batfamily on multiple occasions and that most of those drawings were commissioned by some of them. Even Damian. Basically, everyone else knew about your blog but Tim, surprisingly.

Also, just because he can, he commissioned a Red Robin drawing. When you found out it was him you decided to draw Red Robin in a tutu and tiara. Why? Because you can. When Jason saw the drawing he had a field day.

Damian Wayne:

You enjoyed drawing and sketching. You would draw everytime you could. You had approximately used over 6 sketchbooks. That’s a lot. And most of them contained superhero drawings. Most were of Robin, because why not? Damian knew you loved to draw but he didn’t know about the Robin drawings. And you were trying to keep it that way.

Damian respected your privacy, always. But every time you would hide your sketchbook from him made him a tad bit curious. He wanted to know what you were hiding from him. He was determined to find out. So one day when you went out to take Titus and Ace for a walk to the park, he ‘borrowed’ your newest sketchbook in hopes of seeing what you were hiding. But you dragged him with you.

The both of you spent about half an hour walk the dogs around before you decided to sit down. The minute you put your things down, Titus and Ace decided to have a race, and since you didn’t let go of their leases they pulled you with them. You yelped in surprise as they dragged you halfway through the park almost making you crash in several trees. When they finally stopped you realized they dragged back to Damian.

You were about to yell at Damian for not helping you but you noticed he had your sketchbook in hand, and open. You snatched your book from him and slammed it shut when you noticed which page he was on. You stared at him in fear as he only raised his eyebrow and stood up from the bench and took the leashes from you.

“Good job, Habiti,” he said giving you a quick peck on the lips. From then on all you had to do was ask him to pose for you.

[imagine-loki]

Packless Monster

TITLE: Packless Monsters CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 6/? AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you’re a werewolf who ends up in the company of Loki in the Avenger’s tower after saving Pepper’s life RATING: M NOTES/WARNINGS: Also on AO3 click here

    Your ears flicked and you perked your head up with a soft growl when you heard footsteps coming toward the library. Loki petted your head. “I heard him. It’s just Stark,” he told you softly, in the perfectly calming way he had.

    “Hey, Reindeer Games. If you see the wolf, let her know we want to see her downstairs. Cap’s worried he hasn’t seen her eat anything. You know how he gets,” Tony announced as he walked into the room, as if he just expected that Loki would be here. You lifted your head to look over the back of the couch at Tony. “Shit! You could’ve said she was here,” Tony growled at Loki, who just chuckled.

    “You did not ask,” Loki replied pleasantly while Tony spluttered, surprised to see your wolf again. Loki turned his attention to you. “Are you alright to change?” you nodded, it had been a couple hours. “Why don’t you go change? I’ll entertain Stark and then we can all go see what the Captain wants.” You nodded again, hopped lightly down from the couch and ducked back into the side room to change forms again. You came back out a minute later to find Loki forcibly keeping Tony’s back turned to the room you had changed in.

    “Why were you a wolf again?” Tony asked as you headed back down to the main floor. He was just curious, so you answered and explained how you would heal faster by shifting forms. He thought that over, but didn’t say anything else, for once.

    “Hey, Cap, you were looking for me?” you asked as you entered the dining room. You cursed your wolf again for loosening your tongue. She was comfortable and liked these people. That was strange indeed. She hated your pack. Not that you blamed her, but it was still weird that you knew these people for less than a day and she liked them better than anyone you’d ever met.

    You were shocked when you saw the dining room table. It was covered in literature, print outs, and some kind of weird tablet-y screens. A quick glance showed that it was all research on werewolves. You stiffened, wondering if they were researching to help or hurt you. “Cap, I told you to clean this up before Tony found her,” Nat grumbled from the kitchen. “Sorry, Y/N. The boys wanted to understand your culture better and didn’t want to be rude asking questions,”

    “So they asked Google?” you laughed, making your way to where Nat was cooking some delicious smelling concoction. “You guys can just ask me,” you called into the other room.

    “Why don’t you come join us?” Cap asked kindly. You had walked past the group to the kitchen. You were going to have to learn quickly how to be around groups again, but for now…Nat had food and that was way more interesting than a room full of boys.

    You laughed again. “Because the food is out here!” you replied with a tentative smile to Nat. She was a harder one to figure out, but she seemed nice enough. She gave you a smile in return.

    “Get a bowl,” she gestured to the cabinet with her head. “You can have get some first.” You got three bowls out of the cabinet. Nat raised an eyebrow as you filled the three of them with her stew-like creation. You handed one of the bowls to her.

    “Chef gets first dibs,” you told her with a smile. She looked touched at your thoughtfulness. You took the other two into the dining room and handed the extra one to Loki. He looked up shocked, touched, and…confused, when you handed him the bowl. You shrugged with a shy smile. “Thought I’d save you the trouble of fighting the others,” you told him and sat down to focus on your bowl of stew, and not why on Earth you had thought that was a good idea. The chef getting the first serving was just good manners and tradition. But Loki? Damn wolf felt smug about it too and you grumbled at her about whatever she was up to. You looked over the documentation on the table while you ate, laughing at some of the ridiculous things people thought were true.

    No one interrupted you while you ate. They were getting food too and there was a scuffle over the stew pot while they jockied to get to the meal. Nat sat next to you while they fought, obviously pleased that she wasn’t in on the brawl.

    “So, Y/N, any help you’d like to give us about the wolves?” Clint asked, gesturing toward all the research that cluttered the middle of the table.

    “Um…” you hesitated, not sure what he was looking for. You gestured to the document you were laughing at. “We don’t turn into horny slavering idiotic beasts at the full moon,” you quipped. “Don’t know where people got that idea. Yes, we have to shift at the full moon, but I’m still me when I’m a wolf… And as you saw we can obviously change at other times too. We have higher metabolisms,” you added when Loki handed you another bowl of stew. You hadn’t paid attention to him getting up. “Thank you,” you directed that comment to Loki as he settled back in his chair with his second bowl of stew. “So I eat like a teenage boy, or an Asgardian apparently,” you shrugged and dug happily into the stew.

    The team let the subject drop there for now. They’d press you more later, but you gave them enough basics for one night. Cap went over the press conference for tomorrow and the team sat around telling stories until late that night.

    *

    You finally checked your phone before bed that night. There were tons of angry texts and voicemails from the pack. And unfortunately from your mom. You made the terrible decision of calling her back, pacing up and down the hall as you spoke to her. “No, mom, I’m not coming home. I’m finishing my degree.” You saw Loki peek his head out of his room as you paced past. You held a finger to your lips. You’d forgotten that he would possibly overhear your conversation. You were used to the girls in the dorm who didn’t care as long as you weren’t in their rooms on the phone. “Yes, mom, the Avengers are letting me stay with them. Yes, through graduation. No, I haven’t spilled any pack secrets to outsiders,” you chose your words and meanings carefully. “I’m not coming home,” you told her firmly. “Mom, I don’t care how hot he is. Hotness is not a defining character trait. I’m finishing my degree,” you told her firmly. That was as close as you could get to telling her that you had no interest in the arranged marriage. You weren’t going to marry that douche-bag, no matter what she said. “I’ll talk to you later, mom,” you said and ended the call. You sighed and glared at the phone.

    “Are you alright, love?” Loki asked, concerned.

    You gave him a smile. “Moms, they always worry,” you replied instead of answering his question. You were used to censoring your words. You couldn’t lie to werewolves. “Sorry, I got used to the dorms where the only place to pace was the hallway. Didn’t mean to disturb you,”

    “It’s no trouble,” he replied, still concerned.

    You gave him a better smile. “Goodnight, Loki,” you told him and headed back to your own room, turning your phone to silent so you didn’t have to deal with the pack anymore for awhile.

    “Goodnight, little wolf,” he replied fondly. You grinned at his familiarity, knowing it was a rarity for him to get attached to anyone this quickly. You’d learned a lot about the team during the stories they told that evening. Thor was one thing, he loved everyone and reminded you of one of the puppies.  Loki?  Loki wasn’t.  

    *

    The next morning you found yourself backstage at the location Tony had picked for the press conference. You weren’t quite sure where it was, you hadn’t been paying attention on the drive, instead you were drawing small anxious circles on the back of Loki’s hand with a finger. He had noticed you were twining your hands and clenching your fists in nerves. He’d offered his hand silently so you didn’t dig your nails into your palms anymore. Drawing the anxious little circles were helping your nerves.

    “It’ll be alright, Y/N. Cap’s doing all the talking. He’s good at this sort of thing,” Nat told you. You were wearing a demure dress that you had borrowed from her, luckily you were close enough in size that the dress fit and looked good on you. You were going shopping after this to replace your wardrobe.

    “Y/N, can’t you do anything else with your hair?” Tony asked. “It looks like you were raised by wolves,”

    You growled at him. “I was raised by wolves, and spent almost all of my time in the woods. I have two hair styles, ponytail or down in a mane of curls. Pick one,” you grumbled. “And before you say anything, no, I don’t own makeup, never have, and have never worn the stuff,” you continued grumbling, defensive and anxious.

    Nat sighed and sat you on a chair in front of her. “Let me,” she told you.

    “Seriously, Tasha? Move over,” Clint told her and took her chair. “Close your eyes, Y/N,” he said as he took the makeup from Nat and got to work. “I have way more experience at this than she does,”

    “I wouldn’t go that far,” Nat replied.

    “I would,” Clint quipped back pleasantly as he worked on your makeup. At the same time, you felt gentle fingers in your hair, teasing the curls out to look more manageable and braiding the sides back into a knot, forming a half-ponytail.

    “How did you get so good at that?” Nat asked the person working on your hair. You had assumed it was her, not bothering to listen to your senses which were already on edge from the press conference, but obviously it wasn’t her.

    “Practice,” Loki’s voice replied calmly as he worked. His own hair was shoulder length, but you couldn’t imagine him braiding his own hair.

    They were both soon done with you and you were shocked when you saw yourself in the mirror. You’d never looked so nice. “Thank you both.”

    “It’s time!” Cap called to your group. You all started toward the stage.

    “One last thing,” Tony told you. He came up behind you and with a practiced gesture had clasped a necklace around your neck, lifting your hair so the necklace landed properly. “You need a bit of bling,” he explained.

    You followed the others out onto the stage and were grateful that Cap was doing all of the talking. You were impressed with his lies that you’d been working with the team this entire time. His honest nature sold the lies, though you still tasted them. You tried to call on your wolf when he allowed questions, but she was lethargic…asleep?… and couldn’t offer you strength, so you had to answer the questions on your own. Cap was standing right next to you and fielded questions you couldn’t or wouldn’t answer, but you answered what you could, said again that you had saved Pepper’s life and the lives of the others in that room and how you would continue working with the team.

    You were relieved when the press conference ended. It had been way more draining than you had expected. Way more draining than it should have been. You stepped forward and took Loki’s arm as you walked off the stage. He hadn’t offered it, but didn’t seem to mind and didn’t show any surprise when you did. Instead he just shifted his arm to better escort you. You focused on the feel of his suit jacket under your hand and keeping your feet moving, wondering what was wrong with you.

    You tried calling your wolf again, but she didn’t stir.

    The second you were backstage again, you stumbled into Loki. “Sorry,” you murmured, exhaustion and darkness clouding your thoughts.

    “Y/N? Are you alright? Did your wounds reopen somehow?” Loki asked as he steadied you. His voice was concerned. You shook your head.

    “No, I’m not injured,” you told him softly. Why was everything so…lethargic? It was so hard to focus on anything or anyone.

    Your knees buckled and you crashed into Loki, hard. He actually stumbled as he caught you. “Y/N!” he exclaimed. He had steadied you, but your eyes had shut and you couldn’t get your legs to support you again. He swept you into his arms, but laid you on a nearby bench a moment later.

    “What’s wrong?” the others demanded, circling around worriedly, but you couldn’t get your eyes to open again. Everything was too much effort. You just wanted to lie down with your wolf and sleep. She already was asleep…

    “Wait,” Nat’s voice. She touched your neck. “What’s this red line-? Shit!” She grabbed the necklace Tony had clasped on you before the press conference and carefully unclasped it, removing it as quickly and carefully as she could. “Where’d she get this?” Nat demanded.

    “Stark put it on her before the conference,” Loki’s voice. “What’s wrong with it?” his voice was angry, demanding, accusing.

    “She needed something nice to wear,” Tony protested.

    “It’s silver. Werewolves can’t stand silver. That’s in every werewolf story ever.” Nat snapped at him.

    You made a soft noise, fighting to wake before your wolf. She would be pissed when she woke from whatever this was. It was a struggle, but you finally got your eyes open. “Y/N!” Loki’s voice and expression were such open relief.

    “I’m ok,” you told him softly, fighting to sit up. Loki helped you. It took all of your willpower not to lay your head against him and go to sleep.

    “Why didn’t you tell us you’re allergic to silver?” Tony demanded, angry that he looked bad for you being in this state. You looked past Loki to him.

    “I only knew it was silver weapons that we have issues with. That didn’t seem relevant,” you told him tiredly. You would’ve been embarrassed by what had happened had you been more awake and aware.

    “Can you walk? We should really get out of here and back to the tower,” Cap’s voice was gentle, but he was urgent. You nodded and let Loki help you to your feet.

    “I’m ok,” you told them. You were sure you weren’t convincing. In fact, you were sure you weren’t convincing at all. Loki wrapped his arm around you, supporting you on the walk back to the SUV. You were asleep with your head on his shoulder moments after you were both in the backseat of the SUV. You couldn’t stay awake with your wolf still lethargic and asleep.

    The scary monster werewolf had been taken out by a pretty, but unremarkable, silver necklace.

[lonedailydoodle]

Daily Doodle 79 - July 4, 2018

The day started sad and frustrating with money issues and engine fix issues

But oh boy was it worth it!! THIS IS FUN!!

 Today I woke up earlier than I wanted, but not too early so I stayed up and got on my phone to chat, later getting on my desktop with cereal and watching a video. I then got ready to go down to the city and left

I was feeling a bit down while driving cuz of looking at my nearly empty gas tank and knowing I barely had any money left. I made it to Pixie’s and brought him the ratchet and extension I had borrow.. And the extension wasn’t long enough. I thought he was gonna work under the Miata but he needed a longer extension to remove the sparkplugs and replace them..

I felt bad cuz of this but he borrowed money from his grandma and we left to an AutoZone to buy the extension real quick, then returning home

We worked on removing the spark plugs but then realized the cables were no good either and were breaking when being removed, part of them was also getting stuck on the spark plugs which are deep in the engine! So we left to the AutoZone once again to get new wires and some long pliers which I think will help Pixie a lot. I also admitted to Pixie that I felt really sad cuz of lacking money, there’s not a lot of use I can put to this money but not having much also feels bad..

Made it home afterwards and successfully replaced all the spark plugs, two of them were in very bad condition even. After this, Pixie turned on the car and it smoked a bit but it was completely normal. So we then left to a nearby gas station to get an oil change for the Miata as it was long due for one and showing signs it needed one soon

We got there, the car felt a lot better with new spark plugs and left the car there. We sat to wait and watch as they did their thing with the Miata. Once it was done, they told Pixie that the engine light was flashing, Pixie worried a bit but we started driving home. On our way there, the car started rattling and turned off right as he arrived at his house. VERY lucky for us we didn’t drive far.. We popped the hood thinking it was that one loose cable that keeps turning off the car but it wasn’t that, it was actually a spark plug cable that had become fully loose! There was also a bunch of spilled oil everywhere that worried Pixie

We managed to plug the cable back in properly and took the car in, investigating the source of the oil.. Then finding out it was fresh oil, so the guys changing the oil probably spilled some oil on the engine while filling it.. Woops, still scary though

Pixie then decided since the cable was correctly inside, we would take the Miata on a proper spin this time.. And literally, the car felt stronger since everything was correctly installed now. We drove around the avenue and Pixie even drifted twice in a curve, being careful as well even as it was a controlled U turn, but WOW THAT WAS FUN!!

We then got home, stayed there, ate and I finally got to draw on Pixie’s new Surface tablet! It feels so cool to draw on it, I LOVE IT!! We also browsed memes and watched funny videos together until much later leaving in the Miata to Chuck E. Cheese for Pixie to have some fun dancing

Once at the Chuck E. Cheese, he took advantage that the machine had a lot of credits already in and nobody was using it, so he danced until he got frustrated that the machine was still broken. Sucks cuz it’s their loss, they haven’t fixed it since it got water damage from the hurricane. We then decided to go out to the nearby KFC to get food, then go into the nearby Taco Bell to sit down and relax while eating. I got myself some new Nacho Fries to eat and loved them!! Puerto Rico has always had fries at their Taco Bells, but the Nacho Fries are new, still heavily confused the US didn’t have fries and the Nacho Fries are something new to us now

Pixie sketched on his Surface while there and we had a good time watching a friend go crazy drawing commissions to people in one of the chats I’m in! She seemed to be having a good time

After a while, we decided to go home and switch to my car to get fuel real quick from which Pixie would pay for me. Then arrive at home to hang out for a while longer, just watching him draw and then have another one of our tickle fights

Pixie needed to be ready for tomorrow cuz of school, so I then kissed him goodbye after discussing another sleepover soon and left home, making it safe. Once at home, I got on my desktop and got to writing the doodle, immediately feeling tired.. It seems it’s true what Pixie said, we energize each other

I was too tired and wanted to sleep early tonight, so I decided on drawing the doodle tomorrow.. Pixie won’t be able to read it early and the doodle might go up late, but I will get rest! I have a headache as I write this even, aagh

So I then wrote what I would draw, got distracted from my goal to sleep early by sketching some progress on a commission, then finally showered and went to bed

[ennergetics]

FILLED REQUEST: down with love, a fuckboi! seongwu au

(image credit)

pairing: ong seongwu x reader genre: fluff, angst wordcount: 3023 summary: Ong Seongwu is the campus’s resident type-A fuckboy. when you, an unknown writer, attempt to steal his spotlight, he tries to get revenge by making you fall in love with him. warnings: provocative situations, but nothing too steamy (inspired by the movie of the same name! same verse as the sungwoon prince au, but with a different reader + earlier time period. cross-posted on ao3.)

one | two

Each term, Ong Seongwu beats three of his own personal records: the number of features editors who’ve quit at the campus publication he heads; the amount of attention its social media has garnered under his editorship; and the size of his contacts list, the names of interviewees mingling with those of all the people he’s slept with.

Everybody on campus knows Ong Seongwu, and he wants to keep it that way. A consummate professional, he entered university knowing exactly what he wanted and how he was going to get there. After all, one doesn’t become an excellent reporter and social media influencer overnight; Seongwu built his brand through hard work, god-given good looks, and a knack for making people laugh. He flirts with all of them and fucks them without batting an eyelash, and none of them can say they didn’t know what they signed up for.

Yes, it’s easy to fall for Seongwu, with a story like his: a talented boy on scholarship with big dreams, eager to find someone to share his life with. The best lies are half-truths, after all. Seongwu does work hard, but he doesn’t think there’s a place in his life for love. Still, that doesn’t mean he can’t have fun, and he’s broken the many hearts of people who’ve wanted more.

PRODUCE, the publication he helped found as a freshman, is his current project and only love. He can’t help it if all the features editors up to this point have fallen hopelessly in love with him, tried to change him, and quit their jobs after failing. They were then banned from ever returning to PD101, the fond nickname for the publication’s office on campus. It’s been Seongwu’s home for his entire stay at college, and no simple flings would be able to drive him out of there.

Seongwu is at his usual spot in PD101, alternating between scrolling through PRODUCE’s social media accounts and editing the article queued for publishing within the week, when someone clears their throat.

“Boss, I’ve got an interesting piece you might want to look at.” The current features editor is a deceptively quiet boy with a knack for finding the best stories. Park Woojin quite easily turned down Seongwu’s early attempts at banter, and Seongwu’s glad to find an editor who might actually last till the end of the year and beyond. Woojin is clever enough that Seongwu might bring him onto the team when he expands PRODUCE beyond the campus, but that’s not important right now. If Woojin says a story’s got promise, Seongwu’s willing to bet on it.

He takes the tablet from Woojin and skims the article someone sent in to their submissions email. The sender, one L/N Y/N, doesn’t even have a picture up on their profile, which is a red flag for Seongwu. He gives it a cursory read-through, his expression souring as he gets further. It’s well-written, sure, but the article hinges on a tip for those lost in love: take control of their romantic lives ‘by not fucking scrubs more than once.’

He vaguely remembers what the word means: it’s a gender-neutral word for “fuckboy” that was popular in the ‘90s. Seongwu snorts. “Of course we’re not publishing this. It’s barely worth the minute I gave it my attention.” He doesn’t really think that, but PRODUCE is his magazine and he’s not going to publish anything so contrary to his own lifestyle. There’s something about this piece that feels like a personal attack, though Seongwu can’t quite place his finger on it. Before texting his next hook-up for the week, he gives Woojin a look; Woojin shrugs; and that’s the end of that.

Two days later, everyone on campus is talking about an explosive blog post promoted through the school’s online billboard system, titled “DOWN WITH LOVE.” Seongwu checks out the link and finds a more polished version of what had been sent in, complete with properly sourced memes and gifs. That annoys Seongwu enough, but now none of his regular fuck buddies will pick up his calls or reply to his texts—that is, except for the three who sent him a link to the blog post.

Seongwu looks you up and discovers you’re quite attractive, your photos tastefully shot and social media clean. He’s scrolling through your twitter when he sees a question about whom you think ‘the worst scrubs on campus’ are.  There’s only one name there: his. “Never met him, but everybody tells me he’s an ass,” your answer says.

That’s the moment he decides he’s going to get his revenge. Ong Seongwu doesn’t lose, and it should be easy enough to make you fall in love with a self-proclaimed fuckboy like himself. You’ve never met him—in fact, you refuse to meet with him or any of the PRODUCE staffers—and his carefully curated social media means he can control his image perfectly. Seongwu puts on glasses, parts his hair in the middle, and borrows from his friend Jisung’s wardrobe, making himself practically unrecognizable, then sets himself up as a new student in your project management class.

Adopting a Busan accent that’s a passable approximation of Woojin’s way of speaking, Seongwu strikes up conversation with you. “Hey,” he says softly, “have you got a copy of the syllabus? I just shifted into this class.”

“I do,” you say, your tone oddly hopeful. “You don’t know who I am?” You look surprised that he’s talking to you. He imagines you must not be popular; infamous, yes, but you probably didn’t make many friends publishing and promoting your post like that. Your campus is filled with easily identified scrubs who probably didn’t take too kindly to having their beds suddenly empty.

Seongwu cocks his head in a way he knows makes hearts flutter, blinking at you. “No, should I?”

“No, no, not at all!” you say, a grin lighting up your face. “Here, I’ve got it on my phone.” You hand him your phone, and Seongwu makes sure your fingers touch his. He exaggerates his reaction, looking down with a sheepish smile, but he feels his cheeks turn warm. Seongwu shakes his head. It’s been a while, he tells himself, and that’s all it is.

The class starts and he has no chance to return your phone. You’re engrossed in the professor’s explanation—something about the various management frameworks, and Seongwu realizes he’s in over his head here as a communications major—but you glance at him occasionally, worrying your lower lip with your teeth.

Within ten minutes, the class is over, the first day a simple explanation of the syllabus. Seongwu doesn’t need to graduate with Latin honours, but he wants to. This class is beginning to look like an obstacle, and he curses how foolhardy he was with this plot. It spoke volumes about how much you’d shaken up his routine. Still, there was a way for him to kill two birds with one stone.

“Um, thank you for lending me your phone,” he says, scratching at the back of his head. “It’d be great if we could be study buddies?” Seongwu says, letting his hair fall over his forehead just so. “I’m Hong Sungwoon, but my friends call me Ong. They say I’m too much of an old man,” he says, chuckling. This way, you’ll use a name he’ll recognize, but won’t know it’s him.

You’re smiling up at him, then he sees a spark in your eyes. Bullseye. “Maybe I should get your number, Ong-sshi,” you say. “It wouldn’t be hard to study with a cute face like yours beside me.”

Seongwu covers his mouth with his hand. “Gosh,” he says, “I’ve never had anyone be this forward with me before, especially not someone as attractive as you.” Your eyes soften, and Seongwu admits it’s a look that makes him feel warm inside. He almost feels bad about how he’s going to break your heart.

“Then we’ll both be lucky,” you say, handing him your phone. Your fingers linger at his arm, tracing a light pattern on his bicep as Seongwu inputs his number. He ignores the shiver up his spine at your lazy smile, keeping the act up and trembling slightly when he hands your phone back.

Your first study session is in the following week, right before a quantitative quiz Seongwu has no idea how to answer. Hong Sungwoon is a man afraid of crowds, so the two of you study at the roof of the old biology building, a spot you’ve apparently been keeping to yourself since you got to university. It’s conveniently near PD101, so everything works out for Seongwu.

He’s sitting with his side flushed against yours, watching you push up your glasses every few moments while explaining the necessary diagrams to him. When he feels you shiver at the chill, he places an arm around you as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “You shouldn’t be cold,” he says, wide-eyed.

You grin up at him, snuggling closer and leaning your head on his shoulder. The hand with the papers you’re scribbling on falls onto his upper thigh, and when you show how the items flow from one department to another, he feels the pressure of your finger against his skin.

The rest of the session continues like this, with Seongwu finding excuses for innocent touches here and there, with you escalating each one. Your breathing becomes shallow, a cute flush beginning to show on your skin. Seongwu resists the urge to pull you into a kiss, internally reminding himself of the part he has to play. It’s when you’re done explaining the whole lesson, practically sitting in his lap, when you turn to him and place your hand on his chest.

You draw your face close to his and whisper against his mouth. “Ong,” you say, looking into his eyes, “how would you feel about lessons of a different kind?” And Seongwu springs away as if burned, sputtering while trying to hide his laugh at how corny your line had been.

“I couldn’t possibly do that, Y/N-sshi!” he says. “I mean, I’ve never really done that kind of thing before, and I want to save myself for someone special, you know?” But before you can say anything else, he adds, “I would certainly be honoured to take you out on a date, though. You seem swell, and I’d love to get to know you better.”

Seongwu sees you considering it, and for a moment he’s worried you won’t take the bait. “I mean,” he says, pressing his hand into the small of your back, as if he doesn’t feel you shuddering under his touch, “it’s hard for me to control myself when you’re so pretty, but you could be...”His fingers curl up, scratching lightly against your shirt in a way he knows you’ll feel. “…you could be my first.”

He’s got you there, and right after a grueling, fifty-point quiz, he takes you out to a small hole-in-the-wall restaurant. The auntie running the kitchen waves at him when he ushers you in, flashing both of you a big smile. “I’m not the most well-off,” he says, milking your sympathy. As you look around with wide eyes, though, he feels his throat itch with apprehension. In a way, this is an honest side of himself, one no one, especially not his hook-ups, ever get to see.

“I love it,” you say solemnly. He orders for the both of you, and you dig into the home-cooked meals with gusto. Seongwu makes sure to feed you once or twice, ignoring how your tongue slips out to lick the rich sauces off your lips. The whole time, you both talk about how you ended up at the university, Seongwu giving you a sanitized version of his history, omitting how cutthroat he’d been throughout the years while building his virtual empire. He finds out that you’re just as driven as he is, with a mind skilled at data visualization and a minor in publication management.

You insist on splitting the bill, but the auntie surprises you both by telling you the meal is free. “This young man is a regular customer, and I’m happy to see him finally out on a date,” she says, and Seongwu thanks the stars for having her back up the alibi he’s given.

He walks you home, and at your doorstep, you give him a kiss that tastes like auntie’s best tteokbokki, and Seongwu deepens the kiss for a moment before remembering the long-term plan. You’re breathing hard when he pulls away, your pupils dilated and your grip on his neck tight. “Come in,” you say breathily, your hand moving to stroke at his jaw.

“I-I’m not sure that’s a great idea,” Seongwu says, though every bone in his body—as well as all the blood that rushed south at the feel of your hips against his—disagrees. “I’ll see you in class next week.” He kisses you on the cheek before extracting himself from your grasp.

Numerous dates and study sessions go by, with your hands wandering his body more and more desperately and his famous self-control slowly but surely being eroded by your touch. One night he gives in and you make out on your couch, his grip around your waist tight as you grind against each other. He waits till you come and leaves with a terrible case of blue balls, insisting on being a gentleman all the while. Never mind how dirty his groans are when he jacks off later in the shower, your name on his lips. As he leans his head against the shower stall, his heavy pants fogging up the glass, Seongwu thinks something has to be done.

You’re at one of the smaller study halls, one rarely frequented by students, when Seongwu decides it’s time to enact the final phase of his plan. He ignores the uneasy feeling at the back of his mind, willing himself not to feel anything when you thread your fingers between his. For once, the two of you aren’t caught up studying, and he pulls you to a rarely visited section of the hall, where you crowd him against the bookshelf and pull his lips to your own.

Your lips are puffy and his hair’s a mess when he pulls away, stilling the gentle grind of your hips with one steady hand. “I’m not sure,” he says, putting all the confusion and turmoil he’s feeling into his next words. “I think—I think you’re the one for me, but I don’t know how you feel.”

Seongwu’s set up a hidden camera on the top shelf, ready to record your confession for posting at prime-time. Everything’s in place for him to succeed, but he can’t deny the apprehension he feels. He wants you to confess because it means he wins, that you’re a hypocrite who doesn’t walk your talk. But part of him wants you to confess because he wants to know how you’ve felt about these last three months you’ve spent together.

You sigh once. Seongwu holds his breath. “I’m in love with you. I wrote an article decrying love and its associated pains, but it all feels like a lifetime ago. You’ve made me so happy these past three months. It was impossible for me not to fall for you.” And Seongwu smiles, having won both your heart and the competition you hadn’t even known about.

“That is, if I hadn’t fallen for you already, Ong Seongwu.”

You stand on your tiptoes and reach for the camera, switching it off. Seongwu’s jaw hangs open, and while he’s staring at you wordlessly, you begin to speak. “A year ago, an impressionable junior applied for the features editor opening at PRODUCE magazine. I needed some experience for minor credits, and yours was one of the most-talked-about and better-run among the accessible publications. I was starstruck by you then, so smooth and suave and skilled. You knew precisely what you wanted and how to get it.

“I told myself that I wouldn’t sleep with you, even as your flirting got more intense. It’s easy enough to fall in lust with you, Seongwu, but the sides you showed during the magazine’s times of trouble, the rare moments you bared your heart—in the end, I fell hard. You took me to bed during the Christmas party and never talked to me again.”

Seongwu’s brows furrow. “So you wanted revenge by getting me to date you?”

“No, you silly boy,” you say, reaching out to touch Seongwu’s face. “I just wanted you to like me. I knew it’d be irresistible to you, the idea of making someone crack, to the point that you’d let down your cool exterior and be the you no one else gets to see.”

He’s floored. There it is, that feeling again, of being bested by someone else—the same someone, no less—but it’s overshadowed by the realization that everything you’re saying is true. Maybe he hasn’t fallen in love with you just yet, but he’s certainly getting there. Ironically enough, words aren’t always easy for him, and he hasn’t verbalized the meaning behind his enthusiasm as he checks for your messages in the morning; the energy he feels after laughing in class with you; the tenderness of your interlinked arms as he walks you home.

“I do like you,” he says, “more than I knew. More than I should. But we can be happy now, can’t we? I’ll release this cover story, we’ll go on dates for real, I’ll ask you to go steady, and we’ll live a good life, or whatever it is always comes at the end of romantic comedies.”

You look troubled for the first time, and Seongwu feels the seed of worry grow. “I can’t. So many people here on campus are better off because of me. No more awful ghosting, no more one-night stands that they expected more from, and no more silly attachments.” You shrug before pulling him close. “I’ll miss you.”

Taking the camera with you, you smile sadly, giving Seongwu one last chaste kiss. “I guess I’m a down-with-love kid, after all.”

[phoebonicawrites]

12 Days of Winter Whumperland, day 4 - all I want for Christmas is you (given as gift/gifts from whumper)

This one - kind of fits the prompt? It’s the return of creepy sadistic Orange (Uron) and less-creepy-but-still-a-hardened-killer Cyan (Skla) and yes, I did just name the orange guy ‘orange’ in Welsh. My explanation is he picked the colour that sounded like his real name because it amused him. Found out after writing this that Oren, as well as being Welsh for ‘orange’, is also an actual name of Hebrew origin which means ‘Jerusalem pine’, and he’s enough of a bastard that I didn’t want any real people to have to share a name with him. So he’s Uron now, which is not appearing on any baby name sites. Cyan’s name doesn’t mean anything, I just wanted it to sound alien and hard to pronounce.

Does it count as whump if the character getting whumped is kind of an asshole? Because Red’s kind of an asshole. Uron would absolutely have done this even if he wasn’t, though.

Warnings: whumper POV, sadistic whumper, mentions of torture and murder but not explicitly described for once! ableism, false accusations, character death.

~~~

Red walks into Navigation, alone, and heads straight for the data download. Hidden in the vent, Uron shivers with anticipation. Perfect.

He slips through to Weapons – no one there, good, having to kill anyone else right now would complicate things – and strolls back down to Nav. As expected, Red’s still standing by the wall panel, intently watching the screen of his tablet to make sure the download goes through.

“Hey, Red.” Uron pulls open the panel just by the door and starts to work on the wiring, pulling apart most of the repairs that the last crewmate to fix this section made, and slashing through a few more wires for good measure.

Red grunts a perfunctory greeting in response. He doesn’t look round. Uron severs one last wire, and slips the knife back into its hidden sheath, even as both his mouths water with the thought of how easy it would be to drive it into Red’s back instead. Funny how the guy who prides himself on his observational skills doesn’t realise he’s leaving himself wide open.

But killing Red is a bad move right now. That’s not the plan. No matter how tempting it is.

There’s the cheerful bleep of a download finishing. Red turns away from the wall, and Uron closes the wiring panel and steps into his path, just casually, as if it’s a spontaneous decision. “Hey, man, can I ask you about something?”

“Yeah?” Red’s brow furrows suspiciously. “What is it?”

“What’s your problem with Cyan?” Uron asks, all innocent confusion. “You keep calling meetings over her and –”

“She was not clearing the garbage chute in Storage that time,” Red interrupts, finger pointing emphatically into Uron’s chest. “I know what I saw.”

Uron shrugs. “I dunno, man, it sounded like what you saw was nothing. Green seemed pretty sure that you wouldn’t have seen the trash go out unless you were standing directly by the lever…”

“Ok, then explain why she was right by the reactor when it almost blew!”

“Dumb luck?” Uron suggests. It had actually been pretty bad luck, considering he was the one who’d committed that particular sabotage, aiming to draw attention away from what he’d just done to Lime down in Shields. “I mean, why would she do it just to fix it? And you might as well say it was Pink, they took the other side…”

Indignation’s flaring off Red now, at his supposed crewmate disputing his supposed evidence yet again. Damn, but he’d be easy to break. An ego like that’s always so brittle. Put the pressure in the right place, and he’d shatter like glass.

It’d be so simple to just lock the doors and tear him open, mind and body.

Uron doesn’t like having to restrain himself.

But sometimes it’s important.

“I just don’t trust her, okay?” Red snaps, throwing his hands up in frustration. “There’s something off about her. She’s either an imp or she’s…” He twirls a finger against the side of his helmet. “You know?”

Uron lets his expression harden – easygoing everyone’s-buddy Orange wouldn’t be on board with whatever intra-species prejudices Red’s got going on, after all. “And you think –” he mimics the twirling gesture “– is reason enough to space her?”

“Why are you trying so hard to defend her?” Red glowers. “What, are you the other one or something?”

Uron blinks. He supposes he ought to have seen that one coming, but the irony’s still pretty hilarious. Blowhard Red actually getting it right for all the wrong reasons, not once but twice. And he’ll never live to prove it.

He lets his upper mouth curve into a slow smile. “Pretty bold of you to say that if I am. What with us being all alone in here.”

The blood drains from Red’s face. He takes a step back, icy terror spiking through his mind. “You…”

Uron savours the moment, moving forward as Red retreats, letting him realise that he’s cornered. “I’m just saying. If I was an impostor here to kill you. And you went and accused me to my face like that, no backup or anything, well – you’d just be begging for a knife in your gut, wouldn’t you?”

“Y – you…” Red’s breathing harsh and shallow, realisation of his mistake crashing down on him. Uron lets the tension hold for just a little longer – then shifts tack, instantly replacing the predatory smirk with a glare of appalled, righteous fury.

“But you don’t need to worry about that, right?” he demands, letting his voice rise and break as he jabs his own accusing finger downwards, to the dark space beneath the navigation console. Red’s gaze follows it, and Uron hears the man’s breath stutter as he finally spots Black’s mangled body, jammed into the gap. “Did you really think I wasn’t gonna notice?!”

“Tha- wha- the fu-” Red stammers, but he’s cut off by the alert sounding all throughout the ship.

Dead body reported.

“…thanks,” Skla says, quietly, after everyone else has left the cafeteria, and they’ve both watched Red’s frozen body spiral off into the distance.

Uron grins. “I wasn’t about to let that loudmouth get my best friend ejected.”

He’s still looking out at the stars, but he can feel the spike of emotion as Skla flinches, before she locks her mind down tight again. “We’re not friends. I don’t even like working with you.”

“Sure, but I like you.” Uron turns to face her, surprising even himself a little with how sincere the words are. “I admire the hell out of you. If anyone ever gets to kill you, it’ll be me, or I’ll make them pay for it.”

Skla slaps a cyan-gloved hand against the front of her helmet in a borrowed gesture of frustration. “Do you realise how disturbing it is that you think that’s a compliment?”

Uron shrugs, tendrils rippling under the imitation of a spacesuit. “As disturbing as the fact that you took it as one?”

Skla takes a breath to speak, pauses, then lets it out in a sigh. “Whatever.” She turns away from the window, pulling up the list of fake tasks on her tablet. “Let’s just get back to work.”

[petehparker]

Last Night

Prompt: can you do one where the reader is Tony's daughter but he doesn't know the reader and peter are together and he tries to set he reader up with a close friend or whatever and Peter gets jealous ??

Word Count: 1,793

A/N: Written by Claire xx

Your name: submit What is this?

 You wake up with your neck aching and your hand resting on something soft and warm. As your eyes slowly open and register your surroundings, you find yourself looking at the piles of books that you and Peter had abandoned during the night. Speaking of Peter, you were half tucked into his side, his slow breathing dusting the side of your neck.

You smiled softly, sitting up to move the books off of your bed and snuggle deeper into Peter, wrapping your arms around him and surrounding yourself with his warm scent.

The alarm comes on what feels like seconds later, jolting the two of you awake. Peter groans, rubbing his eyes. You’re already sitting up again, slamming your hand on the alarm to stop the obnoxious beeping as your heart rate begins to return to normal.

“What time is it?” He moaned, halfway through a yawn.

“Um,” you checked the clock. “6:30. You better get out of here before my dad gets up.”

Peter curses, beginning to gather his books from the floor and running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. You took a moment to appreciate him; the rising sun through the window painted him multiple shades of gold and his messy hair waved over his forehead. His voice was low with sleep, and you couldn’t help but smile at the way he looked at you.

“I really didn’t mean to crash here last night, sorry Y/N.” You were already rolling his comments off.

“Oh, please, you know I never mind.” You grinned at him, leaning forward and kissing him on the cheek.

Your smile was reciprocated on his face. “What time did we even fall asleep last night?”

You began tying your hair up, thinking back to the previous night. The last thing you remembered was leaning against the palm of your hand as your eyes began to shut with exhaustion, Peter’s fingers absentmindedly twisting a strand of your hair, listening to the gentle sound of his voice as he talked you through the equation again. “I have no idea.”

The sound of a door shutting heightened awareness in both of you as you exchanged wide-eyed looks. “I really gotta get out of here.” Peter finished cramming the last of his things into his backpack, pressing a kiss to your forehead before turning to leave. You grabbed his wrist before he could leave, pulling him in for a sweet kiss before pressing your forehead to his.

“I had a nice time last night, Parker.”

“I’ll see you at school, Y/N. But now I really have to go, you know I don’t want to but if Tony Stark catches me in his daughter’s bedroom this early in the morning, we’ll have some problems.”

You laughed, pushing his chest away. “I’ll see you later, Spiderman.”

The last thing you saw before Peter’s head disappeared behind your door was his blinding smile, dimples and all, before he was gone.

By the time you came into the kitchen, coffee was already waiting for you on the counter. Your father was seated, scrolling through the news on his tablet. “Late morning, Y/N?” He didn’t even have to look up.

You grimaced. “Yeah, big science test today. I stayed up to study.” You sipped your coffee, reaching to grab cereal from the cabinet.

“You didn’t forget about tonight, did you?” You freeze, looking questioningly at him.

“Tonight?”

“The Thompson’s are coming over tonight, we have to talk business but they have a son for you to entertain.”

You made a face. “Entertain?”

Your father shrugged at you, his familiar boyish smile tugging at his lips. “One way or another, he needs to be distracted. I’ve heard he grew into quite a handsome young man, who knows what could happen?”

“Dad...” You groan, nudging his shoulder with yours. Ever since you had asked him to not be opposed to the idea of you dating, he had done a complete 180 and insisted on “looking out” for you everywhere he could, doing everything short of designing your dating profile.

If only he knew that you were dating possibly the only boy that he wouldn’t want you to date.

***

The dinner was going fine, if not achingly slowly. Harry, the son that was supposedly your age, turned out to be a year older. He was actually quite good-looking, with strong features, and might even have been your type if he hadn’t had all the personality of wet cardboard. He didn’t seem to really want to discuss anything with you other than his mission trip to Haiti and his future in his father’s business, but he smiled along nicely enough to hear your own ideas on what you wanted to do after school.

After dinner, Tony took Harry’s parents into his study for “adult mumbo jumbo”, as he so fondly referred to it, leaving you and Harry in the living room alone. You wanted desperately to take off the unfortunate heels you had chosen for the occasion, but Harry’s stiff gaze didn’t quite make you feel comfortable enough to do so.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” You suggested, your cheeks almost hurting from the smile you had glossed over it. You were desperate to avoid struggling through more discussion.

“Yes, I would love that. Do you have any documentaries you would like to watch?”

You half thought he was joking, but his choice of a political documentary about George W. Bush’s presidency proved you wrong. You weren’t sure if it was your late night with Peter catching up to you, or just the nature of your ever-so-boring company, but you felt yourself becoming more and more exhausted.

When the doorbell rang, you were more than excited to answer. “I’ll get it!” You announced, although Harry hardly glanced at you and you weren’t entirely sure who else would answer it. You checked the monitor on your way to the door and were surprised to find your boyfriend on the screen.

You swung the door open excitedly, already feeling your mood brighten at the thought of even a few minutes in Peter’s company.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” You felt frenzied, almost too excited to have an excuse to leave Harry.

“Oh, uh, I was just testing these for your dad and he said I could drop them off today, I just got off work.” Peter held up a bag, presumably of new tech for his suit. “What’s the occasion?” His eyes roamed over your makeup, stronger than it had been at school, and the dress and heels you were wearing.

“Are those my gifts I hear?” Your dad’s voice rang from behind you. “Ah, yes, Mr. Parker, I believe you have something that belongs to me.”

You stepped aside so Peter could come in, finding yourself facing the Thompsons and Harry as well. Peter set the bag down, surveying the scene before him.

“Right! How rude of me. Angela, Brian, this is Peter Parker, one of my scientists in training.” Tony addressed Harry’s parents, although you’d never heard him introduce Peter like that. “Peter, this is the Thompson family.”

Harry stepped forward, his posture admirably straight. “I’m Harry Thompson, please to meet you.” His hand gripped Peter’s so intensely that you cringed from your position. “I take it you and Y/N are friends as well.”

Everyone’s eyes went to you, and you felt an involuntary blush warming your cheeks.

“Yes, Y/N and Peter are good friends from school.” Tony’s smile brightened just a bit. “You know, Harry, I’m sure Y/N wouldn’t mind making other close friends, if you’re interested.”

Harry nodded. “Noted, sir.” You made immediate eye contact with Peter, trying your best to express how little you wanted Harry to be your “friend”. He was chewing the inside of his cheek, staring at the ground like he was trying not to draw attention to the sting of being called just your friend. You felt it too.

It didn’t take long for your father to use his social prowess to escort the entire group out at the night drew to a close. By the time the door shut, his entire face shifted.

“Dear lord, could those people be any drier?”

Had he made that comment any earlier in the evening, you would’ve laughed in relief and agreed heartily, but all you could think of was getting to Peter and explaining.

“Yeah, although I just remembered that a friend borrowed my notes and I really need them back before tomorrow, I’m just going to go grab them okay? Thanks, Dad.” You spoke so quickly that you weren’t even sure he knew what you said, but he waved you off.

“Oh, and Y/N?” You stopped just short of the door, turning to face him. “I’m one of the world’s most famous geniuses. Give me a little credit with the excuses, okay? Just don’t come back really late from wherever you’re actually going.”

You smiled at him. “I won’t.”

***

The drive to Peter’s seemed to be much faster than you remembered, but soon enough you found yourself standing on his stoop, your knuckles rapping on the door. He answered in his pajamas, clearly confused to find you there.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“Peter, let me explain, I-”

“Oh yes, please do explain to me how I seemed to have interrupted quite the little date between you and some other guy tonight. I’d love to hear it.” You winced at the hurt in his voice. “Look, Y/N, what’s th-”

You couldn’t take it anymore. You surged forward, your hands seizing around his shoulders and pulling him in for a strong kiss. His hands tightened on your waist, and you almost began to lose yourself before reminding yourself what you had to say.

You broke it off, looking straight into Peter’s eyes. “Tonight was one of the most boring nights of my entire life, Peter. I was thinking about you the whole night, I couldn’t wait until Harry left so I could text you literal direct quotes of all the terribly boring things he said to me.” Your hand found his and you intertwined your fingers with his, bringing them to your lips. “Peter, I-”

He kissed you before you could say anything else, his hands buried in your hair. You eagerly retaliated, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck. He ended the kiss, grinning ear to ear.

“I want to tell your dad about us.”

You laughed, pulling him closer. “Well, if you would let me finish, I was just getting there, Parker. I want to tell him too. He loves you and I can’t imagine why he would turn this down.”

You almost didn’t get to finish your sentence before he was kissing you again.

[vitanteactawrites]

Sometimes Two Isn’t Enough, Part IV

Fandom: Supernatural / AU

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel 

Pairing: Dean x Reader x Sam

Word Count: 2,281

Part: Four [part one, two, three]

Warnings: None!

Author’s note: Sorry it took so long guys, but here it is! We’ve finally started to dig in a little deeper and discover who the reader is, so enjoy! On a side note, I’m on vacation for a week but plan on taking a good old notebook and pen with me to try and get some stuff done. Next weeks chapter will be a little late, but expect a hunt and more information on who the reader is.

Despite the fact that the gentle lull of the Impala’s engine had put you to sleep, when it cut, you hardly stirred. Which was why your brows furrowed in sleep muddled confusion as fingers dusted hair from your eyes. With a soft grumble, your hand moved to bat away whatever had disturbed you, the other tugging Dean’s borrowed jacket closer to your shoulders. And while your sleep addled brain could hear the deep chuckle, your body still insisted on curling deeper into the soft leather of the back seat, chin nuzzling into the jacket within your grasp.

But the hair in your face was pushed back once more, this time accompanied by a gruff whisper of your name. Upon the realization that someone was going to insist on waking you regardless of any effort you put forth in attempt to avert it, you sleepily opened and squinted your eyes at the figure before you. Only once Dean was firmly in focus did your lips curl slightly.

“Sorry - are we stopping again for the night?”

You could tell that it was late afternoon by the light seeping through the windows of the vehicle, and despite the fact that there were potentially hours’ worth of open road ahead of you, you’d been quick to learn that the Winchesters had been taking you into consideration. You knew little about the past, which made driving for a long distance seem uncomfortable. More than once the three of you had stopped around dinner and stayed put, effectively making your trip to safety a little longer, but also much more comfortable.

“We’re here.”

The two words were enough for any lingering exhaustion to be wiped away and replaced with interest. Scooting across the seat, you carefully exited the Impala, offering Dean his jacket back in the process. You felt… nervous. This was, as Dean had once put it, their home. Or as Sam had put it, home base. Putting two and two together hadn’t been hard. One of them was your soulmate, which meant that this - at least for the time being - would be your home as well. Lacking any real memory, this place was your first home, which made it that much more important and special.

“Where’s Sam?”

“Inside. He figured it shouldn’t take two of us to wake you, so he brought everything in.”

Though your gaze had drifted to look at Dean as he spoke, it didn’t take long for you to offer a soft hum of acceptance at his words, eyes turning to the outside of the bunker. And it wasn’t just the exterior building you took in, but the surrounding woods, the roadway, everything.

You aren’t sure how long you lose yourself in your thoughts, but it’s a gentle brush of knuckles against the back of your hand that has you thrown back into focus. The surprised look you throw Dean is enough to put you both on edge, as he’s quick to withdraw his hand and awkwardly run it up the back of his neck instead.

“We - we better not keep Sam waiting. He might think something got us and send out the search party.”

It’s a poor attempt at a joke, one you mentally kick yourself for immediately, but it propels you toward the first doorway in your sight.

The moment you step into the bunker, your feet draw to an immediate halt - causing Dean to nearly barrel right into you. The scuffling of feet as Dean braces his hand against the rail and carefully steady’s you both is enough to draw Sam’s attention from below. It’s likely the look of complete awe on your features that has the grin of pride and the bubble of laughter escaping his throat.

“I had the same expression when I first saw this place too. Don’t worry, you get used to it.”

He was right, you would get used to it eventually, because this place was going to be your home, which was perhaps the reason you’d stopped and just…  stared. They’d built it up to be something because they had memories in this place - they’d established themselves there, and every time they’d spoken of it on the drive, you’d been under the assumption that you’d come to love it because they did. You’d assumed there would be touches of them, but that it would need some of you too - and you were right, it would - but it still seemed perfect.

You weren’t sure when Sam had moved to stand at the bottom of the steps, looking up at you with a small sense of pride shining in his eyes, and that beautiful grin on his face, but once again it was enough to propel you forward.

“I - I know you stumbled upon this place yourselves and have since discovered more about it as time passes but I - may I have a tour?”

It seemed to be the perfect question to ask, because within moments Dean shucked the jacket you’d returned to the back of a chair and the two brothers sprung into action. The three of you moved through each room at the pace you set, and while they provided as much information as they could about each room - whether it be the initial intended purpose of the room, their use of it, or their experience with cases or memories involved in the space, some question always pushed past your lips. Your interest in their home seemed enough for one brother to begin a story or thought, and the other to pick up on it. It was an action you’d believed others might have perceived as rude -- as if they were interrupting one another, but the exchange of looks, of small shrugs and grins was enough to tell you that, while not completely normal, it was something they would accept.

Once you’d returned to the main living space, the walls lined with books and the floor littered with an array of tables and chairs, Dean gave you once last long look before muttering something about cleaning his gun and unpacking. You watched him leave before turning to look at Sam expectantly. Dean had been reluctant, which meant they’d made some sort of deal about spending time with you.

“So these are the books you’ve been telling me all about? The ones filled with lore, and theories… history?” You asked, eyebrow arching slightly.

“Uh- aha ya.” Running a hand over the back of his neck, Sam’s gaze was quick to move from you to the shelves surrounding you.

“I’m not sure I remember, let alone know how to read,” you mutter, brow furrowing slightly in silent question as to whether or not that’s something you should really be ashamed of, “but could you show me some of the books maybe?”

Sometime during your question, your eyes had moved from Sam out of nervousness, instead taking in the lengthy shelves and surrounding area, so when an answer wasn’t offered forth immediately, you nearly cringed. Swallowing the lump of discomfort that was forming in your throat, you dared to look at him. There was a conflicting look on his face, as if he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how to phrase it. Sam was quick to snap out of it, his head dipping into a succession of nods.

“Yeah - yeah uh I’ll show you some of my favorites.” There is a quick flash of a smile, but the hesitation in his eyes was still prevalent. “And if for some reason you can’t read… then I’ll teach you. Just - just like I’m sure Dean would - will - teach you about hunting or cars or whatever else you want to learn.”

Your lips quirked - only slightly - into the smallest of smiles. “Thanks Sam. I’d really appreciate that.”

Time passed after that, but you found it hard to distinguish whether it was flying or creeping by. You were relieved to note that most words on the pages of the books Sam showed you, as well as a select few you pulled out yourself, held real meaning. There were a few you asked for clarification on, some Sam pointed out as being newer, or slang, others even he was uncertain on. At some point during your trek around the large room, Dean had reemerged. Seated within one of the more comfortable of the chairs with his feet propped up and a beer in his hand, he busied himself with looking for cases on the computer. But it wasn’t long before you caught him watch you pursue the endless number of books, his lips quirking into a smile that seemed the vanish the second he caught either you or Sam watching him.

“What’s the most unique book you have?” The question is perhaps the first words that have truly broken the silence within the bunker in the last hour, but they seem much needed. Particularly because of the silent conversation Sam and Dean appear to be having via looks and facial expressions can either be a good, or terribly bad thing.

“Oh. Well, the Men of Letters have a few odd books - but most of them we’ve managed to translate. Kevin,  or Castiel can handle most anything we throw at them, but there’s one that neither can crack. Castiel claims it’s older than most Angels.”

You glanced between the two brothers, eyebrow arching slightly.

“And you have this thing here? Can I see it?”

A few minutes later, you were seated at one of the tables, a stone tablet in your hands, and a few thin pieces of parchment beside it.

“We assume someone transferred it from stone to paper a few hundred years ago, but outside of a folder and box with a bunch of question marks, there isn’t much too it.” Sam informed, seating himself opposite you.

You gave him a mildly impressed look before your eyes dropped to the tablet in front of you. Within seconds your brows were crinkling together, a frown tugging at your lips.

“What do you mean Castiel couldn’t read this?” With a glance at the Winchesters, you returned to the papers.

Deans attention waned from the laptop in his lap to looking at you fully, eyebrows arched and beer long forgotten.

“Excuse me?”

“Well, it isn’t that hard to read. It’s about the Daughter of God. It’s pretty vague, but the writer keeps calling this Daughter of God her mother.” You muttered, glancing up.

Before either Winchester can open their mouth to say anything, there is a faint flutter of wings before a man appears at the top of the stairs.

This time, you were certain time slowed. All senses but sight dulled - the sound of the brothers greeting or your chair knocking back as it hit the floor were both vague and distant. The man at the stairs appeared directly in front of you, his seemingly stoic face crinkled in confusion.

“Stay back, Angel.”

The threat ripped from your throat in a near growl, one that seemed to shock the entire room back into motion.

“Y/N. Y/N!” The hands pressing against your arms and then moving to cup your face are what drew you back completely into focus. With reluctance, your eyes ripped from the unidentified man to Dean’s, whose expression was no longer masked but shined bright with worry.

“That’s Castiel, okay? He’s a friend.”

The words ought to have reassured you, but instead your eyes flickered back to look at Castiel, the frown returning to your face.

“Y/N here uh - she can read that tablet.” Sam interjected, clearing his throat awkwardly as a hand motioned over toward the table.

“She is not human.”

Scoffing softly, you gave your head a shake, trying to get around Dean to no avail. “Someone has brilliant observation skills; shall we test out your theory?”

Deans face appeared in front of your almost immediately, his hands leaving your face to grip your arms and direct you back a few steps.

“Y/N. What is with the hostility?”

“You keep telling me that Lucifer - the man who apparently held me against my will and used me against you, the man who I apparently hate to the point of wanting to destroy him - is or was also an Angel at some point or another. You may trust him, but I don’t.”

It was enough for his grip to loosen around you. With a few steps, you were back to where you’d been standing before, eyes narrowing onto the trench coated man as Sam explained who you were, and what you’d found.

“That would explain it. Your presence releases an aura of power, like the essence of God after he leaves a place.” Castiel muttered, gaze turning from the tablet to look at you.

“The Daughter of God is as close to an urban legend as the Angels have. Did the tablet mention who might have transcribed it?”

“Emma.” The reply is as brief as you can make it, and from the tense set of Castiel’s shoulders, you realize he is just as unsettled by your presence as you are his.

“Very well, I’ll return to Heaven and begin the search immediately.”

Without waiting for confirmation, there is a flapping of wings and he is gone. A look is exchanged between yourself and the Winchesters before you sigh and give your head a shake.

“That’s Cas for you.” Sam muttered.

“Come on, I’ll make us some dinner.” Dean replied, turning on his heel to disappear into the kitchen. With one last exchanged look between you and Sam, you offered a shrug and followed Dean.