#i put it behind a cut but if it's not working on mobile i apologize :[

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Time Is On My Side | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: y/n is getting unhinged as fuck man, torture, mentions of childhood trauma,

Word Count: 4738

A/N: this gif should not be attractive but here i am sitting in a puddle... WHO SAID THAT

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Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

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Three weeks. All Dean had left was three weeks. 

It felt like your heart was constantly in your throat. It felt like you could never get Dean close enough to you when you slept beside him. No amount of late night conversation or sexual escapades could save you from the anxiety you had welling up inside you. 

And so, you went back to work trying to find the demon holding Dean’s contract. 

You lingered behind Sam in the back of a dark room in an abandoned cabin where Dean was throwing every torture he could possibly think of at the demon strapped to the chair in front of him. “You ready to talk?”

“I don't know,” he wailed. “I don't know anything!”

“Oh, you hear that, guys?” Dean taunted. “He doesn't know anything.”

“Yeah, I heard,” Sam smirked. 

You stayed silent.

“I'm telling you the truth,” the demon pleaded. 

“Oh, you are? My god, then I owe you an apology. Allow me to make it up to you.” Dean held the demon’s mouth open and forced Holy Water down his throat. “I'm gonna ask you one last time: who holds my contract?!”

You were mentally scolding yourself for finding this interrogation sexy in any manner.

The demon went quiet and hung his head low. He looked up with inky black eyes, smiling. “Your mother. Yeah, she, uh, showed it to me right before I bent her over.”

“I want a name. Or else—”

The demon cut Dean off. “Or what? You're gonna squirt your holy water in both ends? Please. Brother, that's like a flea bite compared to what's coming to me if I tell you jack. Do what you want. The only thing I'm scared of is the demon holding your ticket.”

You stepped forward for the first time. “Let me try something.”

Dean looked at you skeptically, but the wheels in your head began to turn. The boys hadn’t seen you in action with an interrogation just yet; a skill you could credit your father for bestowing upon you. 

“Oh, god,” the demon laughed. “Gonna torture me with a kiss, pretty girl?”

You kept your gaze ahead, preparing for what you were going to have to do to this demon. “We got any salt in the trunk, Dean?” 

He shot you another skeptical look. “Yeah…?”

You nodded at him to go get it while you circled the demon holding the iron fire poker behind your back. When you were behind him, you quickly carved the binding link symbol into the back of his neck through the demon’s screams of protest. 

The demon laughed when you were finished. “A binding link? Really?”

“Hate to say it, I’m with him on this one,” said Sam, looking at you with confusion written all over his face. 

You gave him a look that told him to just trust you. When Dean returned with the large bag of salt he had in the trunk, you doused the iron poker in holy water and dipped it in the salt. “Is this gonna feel like a flea bite?” you asked, your face completely flat. 

The demon’s eyes flashed with fear, but he kept his “tough guy” persona up. You lightly cut down his left thigh with your knife before shoving the poker in the wound, and he screamed out louder than Dean had been able to manage making him. 

“Who holds Dean’s contract?” you asked evenly. 

“I can’t tell you,” he replied flippantly. 

“You can,” you said, “you just don’t want to.” You cut down the inside of his left thigh and created a deep gash, repeating the same action of putting the poker inside the wound. “See why I wanted you stuck inside?” you snarled. “You’d miss all the fun.”

“I’m not telling you anything!” he cried. 

You recoated the iron in holy water and salt. You cut up the side of his torso and put the poker against the wound once more. “Tell me,” you demanded. 

“No!” he screamed in agony. 

“Tell me!” you screamed in his face, holding the poker to his throat. 

“(Y/N)—” you heard Dean say quietly from behind you. 

You shoved the demon to the ground, still bound to his chair, and grabbed a handful of salt. Harshly, you rubbed it into the bleeding wound on the inside of his thigh. “Fucking tell me!” 

“(Y/N)!” Dean pulled you up from the demon by your elbow. “Sam, finish this fucker.” He pulled you outside of the cabin, and you shrugged him off you. 

“What the fuck, Dean?!” 

“I couldn’t watch you do that anymore,” he said. 

“What, get some demon to spill his guts? I thought that was what we’re here to do,” you scoffed. 

“Yeah, but that?” Dean pointed back at the cabin. You could see Sam exorcizing the demon through the window. “I’m not gonna watch you do that to yourself.”

“This has nothing to do with me. I’m fine,” you responded. 

“I’ve never known you to be like that,” he told you. 

“Like what?”

“Like me,” he answered, looking anywhere but your eyes. 

“C’mon, Dean—” you rolled your eyes. “This has nothing to do with my character versus yours or something like that. This is a desperate time. Desperate times, desperate measures.”

“Whatever,” he said. “Why is this just a casual thing for you?” 

“I grew up a hunter with a mean ass dad, Dee. He taught me all this,” you said, waving your hand in reference to the cabin. 

“Really?” he questioned. “You never told me that.”

“It never really came up,” you smiled lopsidedly. “Besides, not much time for backstories when we’re trying to break a demon deal and keep Sam from going Dark Side.”

“Don’t do that again. Not for me, okay?” Dean asserted. “I can’t watch that again.”

“I’m not asking you to,” you replied. “But if it gets us some answers, I will do it again.” Dean went to protest, but you kept going. “If it gets you out of this fucking deal, I’ll do pretty much anything. I love you, and I respect you, but this is not up for debate. I have a skill. Why not use it?”

***

“Guys, why are we gonna go after a fucking zombie when we should be focusing on Dean’s deal?” you asked, referring to the case Sam had found in the paper. “We’ve been on soul-saving detail for months now. But three weeks out, all of a sudden, you’re interested in workin’ a case?”

“Look,” Sam sighed, “I just thought since Dean’s been all gung ho to hunt, I’d be doing him a favor.”

“Obviously I wanna hunt some zombies, (Y/N),” Dean grinned. 

You dropped your head back knowing you’d lost the fight.

***

The man who’d died had apparently had his liver removed surgically. After thoroughly convincing a coroner that you were insane, you realized your zombie theory was all wrong.

You remained fed up with the fact that you weren’t focusing on Dean’s deal but went along with the case anyway. While Sam and Dean remained focused on talking to another man who’d had an organ cut out of him, you were angry with the entirety of the situation; not specifically the two brothers.

Now, back in the motel, you sat on Sam’s bed while Dean happily chomped on a burger. You pretended to research on your laptop while Sam actually worked on his. 

“So, I got a theory,” Sam piped up. 

“Yeah?” Dean asked through a mouthful of food. 

“Yeah, I talked to Mr. Giggle's doctor. Turns out his incisions were sewn up with silk.”

That caught your attention. “What?”

“That’s weird,” Dean added.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, nowadays, it is, but silk used to be the suture of choice back in the early 19th century. It was really problematic. Patients would get massive infections. The death rate was insane.”

“Good times,” Dean quipped. 

“Right, so doctors, they had to do whatever they could to keep infections from spreading. One way was maggots,” Sam grimaced. 

“Dude, I’m eating,” Dean winced. 

“It actually kind of worked because maggots, they eat bad tissue, and they leave good tissue. And get this. When they found our guy, his body cavity was stuffed full of maggots,” Sam explained. 

“Dude, I'm eating!” Dean groaned. “Alright, let me get this straight. So, people are getting ganked, right? A little ‘antiques roadshow’ surgery, some organ theft. But why is this all sounding familiar?”

“Uh, Dr. Frankenstein?” you quipped. 

“No, because he’s heard it before,” said Sam. “When you were a kid. From Dad. Doc Benton: real-life doctor, lived in New Hampshire, brilliant and obsessed with alchemy, especially how to live forever. So, in 1816, Doc abandons his practice and—”

“Right, yeah,” Dean cut his brother off, “nobody hears from him for like 20 years, and all of sudden, people start showing up dead.”

“Dead or missing an organ or the hand or some other kind of part.”

“ 'Cause whatever he was doing was actually working. He just kept on ticking. Parts would wear out; he'd replace them. But I thought Dad hunted him down and took his heart out.”

“Yeah, I guess the Doc must have plugged in a new one.”

“Alright, where's he doing the deed?” Dean questioned. 

“According to this, Benton's picky about where he sets up his lab. He likes dense forest with access to a river or stream or some kind of freshwater,” replied Sam. 

Dean took another huge bite of his burger. “Why?”

“Because that's where he likes to dump the bile and intestines and fecal matter.”

Dean gagged. 

“Lost your appetite yet?” Sam deadpanned. 

Dean considered, looking down at his burger. “Oh, baby, I can’t stay mad at you.”

Though you normally would have giggled at Dean’s joke, you simply rolled your eyes this time. 

Dean had apparently been expecting you to laugh, too. “What’s up?” he asked. 

“Nothing.” You shut your laptop and walked out with the brothers staring after you to smoke a joint. 

***

Almost an hour of you sitting outside later, Dean marched out of the room with his bag. 

“Where you going?” you asked him. 

“Sam lied to us. He knew Benton was here,” he replied, throwing his duffel into the back of the car. 

“What?!” you exclaimed angrily. 

“Yeah,” Dean huffed. “And Bobby knows where Bela is. That’s where I’m goin’.”

“I’m coming with you,” you asserted. Off his look, you stated, “I’m not asking.”

“Can’t say I’m loving this new attitude of yours,” Dean said as you headed back to your shared room for your bag. 

“My dude’s gonna die in three weeks. Forgive me if I’m a little on edge,” you called over your shoulder as you strutted ahead.

***

Dean drove well into the night as you sat beside him holding his hand. You couldn’t help but want to constantly be touching just to revel in the fact that he was here, and he was okay. 

You arrived in Canaan, Vermont around three in the morning. You and Dean stopped at a motel to get a few hours of sleep before you would head to meet Bobby’s contact, Rufus Turner. 

“I’m sorry,” Dean told you through the dark, holding you against his chest. 

“For what?”

“Everything,” he replied, voice rumbling deeply in his chest. “I’m sorry I’ve been hard on you. I know this has been…” he trailed off, sighing. 

“You don’t need to apologize, Dee,” you told him. “I’m not angry with you. I’m just stressed out.”

“I know. And I’m sorry I put you in that position.” 

You tilted your face up toward him and kissed his chin. “It’s okay. Let yourself off the hook.”

The two of you didn’t speak for the rest of the night, but you knew that Dean wasn’t sleeping. The both of you were staring up at the ceiling thinking about what was awaiting Dean in less than three weeks. 

The evidence of that showed in the bags that hung under your eyes as you approached Rufus Turner’s house. A handwritten sign hung on the porch reading, “No solicitors, that means you! No asking for donations. No selling ANYTHING!"

Dean rang the buzzer and than banged on the door. 

You heard a noise behind you and turned to see a security camera positioning itself toward you. “What?” a man’s voice asked through the intercom. 

“Hi,” you said politely. “Rufus?”

“Yeah, even if I am, the question is still the same. What?”

“I’m (Y/N). This is Dean. We’re friends of Bobby Singer’s,” you replied. 

“So?” he asked. 

“You called him this morning,” explained Dean. 

“So?”

Dean tried to flash a charming grin at the camera despite his obviously growing frustration. “You told Bobby about a British chick who made contact with you.”

“And so?” Rufus continued. 

“You know where she is?”

“Yeah.”

“Great. Could you tell me where I could find her?”

“No.”

“ ‘Course not,” Dean muttered to himself. He looked back up at the camera. “Look, Rufus, man—”

The door jerked open to reveal the man you’d been speaking to. “Look, let me point something out to you. You are knocking at my door, so don't ‘Look, man’ me. I'm not your man.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Dean replied politely. It was like he was speaking to his father, and how quickly he snapped into line startled you slightly. 

“Alright, let me tell you a little story,” Rufus began. “See, once upon a time, Bobby called me, asked me to call him if I got a whiff of this Bela Talbot. I got a whiff. I called. The end.”

“Okay, yeah, if you could just tell me where she is, I mean, that would be great,” Dean chuckled awkwardly. 

“Dean, right?”

Dean nodded. 

“Dean, do I look like I'm here to help you?” 

“I’m gonna say no?” 

“Then get the hell off my property.”

“Would a bottle of scotch change your mind?” you asked, holding up the bottle Bobby suggested you bring with a lopsided smile. 

Rufus eyed you, brows drawn, then the bottle, and then grinned. 

***

Rufus was actually pretty cool once you’d gotten to know him and plied him with a little liquor. What he told you about Bela was what really piqued your interest, though. Rufus managed to find Bela’s— well, Abby’s— records from England. She’d apparently lost her parents in an accident where it seemed the brake lines were cut on their car. 

You didn’t drink, seeing as Dean wasn’t intending on being the responsible one in this scenario, and as a result, you drove a very drunken Dean back to your motel. 

“But Bela—” he whined. 

“I’ve got her. You’re staying here,” you asserted, doing your best to get him on your bed. 

“I don’t want you going alone,” he replied. 

“You are too drunk to be handling a gun, m’ love,” you told Dean. “I promise I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“Wait.” Dean grabbed your hand as you turned for the door. “Be safe, okay?” 

A gentle smile tugged at the corners of your lips. You helped Dean tug off his boots and get into bed. He passed out pretty much as soon as he hit the pillow, and you gave him a lingering kiss on his forehead before you left. 

***

As soon as Bela closed the door to her hotel room, you were on her with your arm across her throat and your gun in her face. “Where’s the Colt?” you sneered. 

“(Y/N),” she replied calmly. 

“No extra words,” you asserted.

She quirked a brow at you. “It's long gone, across the world by now.”

“Liar,” you said, shoving her neck harder. You grabbed her bag from her hand to look in it, keeping your gun firmly trained on the place right between her eyebrows. 

“I'll call the buyer. Speak Farsi?” she smirked. 

You pulled her against you and made quick work of frisking her in search of her gun. 

“What the hell are you—?!” 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you replied, dangling her gun in front of her face that you’d found tucked in her waistband. You used the tip of your gun’s barrel to flick the light on, then pointed it back at her. “Don’t fucking move, or I’ll kill you, I swear to god.”

You began to search the room, taking every drawer and bag apart. 

“I told you, I don’t have it,” Bela spoke evenly. 

“We are way past trust, angel,” you explained to her. When you heard movement behind you, you shot at the door inches from her head. “I told you not to fucking move.” You continued searching.

After a few minutes, she spoke again. “It's gone. Get on a plane if you must. Track down the buyer. You might catch up to him eventually.”

You angrily threw the last drawer open, rummaged through it, and stood with your gun pointed at her head. 

“Are you going to kill me?” she asked.

You simply nodded in response. 

“You're not cold-blooded, darling.” Bela rolled her eyes. 

“That’s where you’re wrong,” you stated flatly. “The boys are more of the Care Bear type than I am.”

She gave you a skeptical look. “Really.”

“Really,” you smirked cruelly. “You and I are way more alike than I think you realize.”

“How’s that?” she snickered. 

“Both annoyingly bitchy. Both with various vices and addictions. Both brutally honest. And we both killed our parents,” you told her. “But what I can’t work out is why you did it.”

She looked completely shocked but tried to maintain her composure. “I don't know what you're talking—”

“Yes, you do,” you replied. “Don’t fuck with me. You were, what, fourteen? Shady car accident, police suspected a slashed brake line, and little Bela— well, Abby— inherits millions. Ringing any bells?”

Her mouth agape, she breathed out, “How did you—”

“Doesn’t matter,” you drawled. 

“They were lovely people. And I killed them. And I got rich. I can't be bothered to give a damn. Just like I don't care what happens to Dean,” she shrugged.

Seeing red, you pushed her against the door with your arm against her throat again.

“You make me sick,” you snarled. 

“Likewise,” she grinned. 

You backed away from her, pointed your gun, and cocked it. Then, you noticed the woven herbs hanging above her door were ones used for warding off Hellhounds. Deciding killing her now would be letting her off easy, you clicked the safety back into place and shoved her out of your way. “I’ll see you around, Abby.”

***

When you returned to the motel, Dean woke up as soon as you opened the door. He hummed sleepily. 

“Morning, princess,” you smiled. 

“You haven’t called me that in a while,” his deep voice rumbled. 

You giggled. “Figured it was time to bring it back.”

“Is she—?” Dean trailed off, referring to Bela. 

“No,” you said. “She will be soon, though.”

He shot you a confused and slightly irritated look. “I thought you were gonna—”

“I was. And then I saw Devil’s shoestring hangin’ above her door. I figured that would be a more suitable death for her,” you shrugged. 

“Damn, she made a deal?” he questioned, getting up from bed. 

“I’m guessing to kill her parents,” you replied. 

“Good thinkin’. Well, let’s get goin’ back to Sam.”

You nodded. “Sure you don’t need to nurse that hangover first?” you asked mockingly. 

He groaned. “That scotch was some serious shit, man.”

***

“I’m really fucked this time, (Y/N),” Dean admitted, voice breaking slightly. 

You pulled your eyes from the road to look at him for a brief second. “Dee…”

“No,” he shook his head. “The Colt’s gone, and Sam was right. Bela was a goose chase.” Dean’s phone rang. “Speaking of…” he trailed off as he answered the phone. “You okay? Was he there?... Did you kill him?... What do you mean, ‘no’?... What, the live-forever formula?... Great, let me guess. I got to drink blood out of a baby's skull?... Wait, wait, wait. What are— What are you saying? You think… Okay, so, this formula…” He suddenly got panicked. “Sam?! Sammy!” He slammed his phone shut. “Dammit! Drive faster, (Y/N).”

“What happened?!” you questioned. 

“He found Benton’s cabin. He said that whole, uh, live-forever thing is just science. Meaning… it’s doable. And then, Benton found him,” Dean explained. 

“Oh, fuck.” You floored it completely. “Well, how the hell are we gonna find Sam? Weren’t there, like, five different possible cabins?!” 

“I’m gonna get the phone company to put a track on it,” Dean responded. 

After he did so, the car went quiet for another moment as you focused on driving. However, there was a nagging thought in the back of your mind. “Are you… Are you gonna take the elixir of life?”

Dean considered for a moment. “I don’t know. I don’t even know if this is gonna work.”

“Right. I don’t know if changing out whose pancreas you’re carrying is gonna have an effect on the Hellhounds’ ability to… y’know…”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “This fucking sucks.” He slumped down in his seat. 

“Hey, all is not lost,” you told him. 

He shot you a look that said, “Yeah, right.” “Look, right now, we just need to focus on Sam,” he asserted. 

“Okay, then. What’s your plan?” you asked. 

He gave you another look. 

“Right,” you said dryly. “Why would you have a plan?”

***

Thankfully, when you got to Benton’s cabin, you found a bottle of chloroform on the table in the kitchen. Silently, you held it up to show Dean. He took it from you and drenched his Bowie knife in the liquid. 

As you approached the cabin’s basement, you could hear Doctor Benton’s voice becoming closer and closer. Dean mouthed to you, “One, two, three,” and then, you and he began shooting at the doctor’s back after jumping out from behind the wall blocking the basement’s stairs from the rest of the room. 

“Shoot all you want,” Benton grinned, approaching you. You let loose two more bullets, and Dean swept up behind him to stab him in the back. 

He stumbled and turned around. “A knife? What part of immortality do you not understand? Pity about the heart, though. It was a brand-new one.”

“Good. It should be pumping nice and strong,” Dean smirked. “Sending this stuff throughout your whole body. See, I picked up your little bottle upstairs and dipped the knife in it.”

Dr. Benton’s mouth fell open in shock, and his eyes rolled back in his head just before he collapsed. 

“(Y/N), gimme a hand?” Sam asked as Dean dealt with Dr. Benton’s body. 

You rushed to his side, unstrapped his limbs, and carefully peeled the pieces of duct tape off his eyelids that were holding them open. “You okay?” “Yeah. You got here just in time,” he smiled weakly. 

You gave him a quick hug, both relieved that he was okay and happy to see him again. 

“Alright, break it up,” Dean groaned. “Help me get this mook on the table. He’s fuckin’ heavy.”

***

You sat in the corner of the room waiting for Dr. Benton to wake up. After about an hour of twiddling your thumbs, the doctor groaned. 

“Oh, hiya, Doc. Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey,” Dean deadpanned. 

“Please—” the doctor panicked. 

“ ‘Please’ what?” Dean taunted. “You've been killing poor bastards for over a hundred-fifty years, and now, you got a request? Shut up.”

The creature struggled against his restraints. “No, you don't understand. I can help you. I know what you need.”

Dean ignored the doctor and focused on you and Sam. “We might have to cut him up into little bits. Y'know, this immortality thing is a bitch.”

“I can read the formula for you. You know… immortality… Forever young, never die,” he tried. 

“Dean,” Sam said suddenly. 

“Sam,” you warned. 

He walked out of the room, indicating for you and Dean to follow. 

You kept an eye on the doctor just to ensure he couldn’t go anywhere while Sam addressed his brother. 

“I mean, we're talking Hell in three weeks, or needing a new kidney in, like, half a century,” Sam urged. 

“Yeah, well, you can't exactly get those at a Kwik-E-Mart,” Dean snarked. 

You kept silent. 

“It's not perfect, but it buys us more time to think of something better. We just need time, Dean. I mean, please, just- just think about it.”

“No,” Dean replied firmly. 

That surprised you, if you were honest. 

“Dean, don't you want to live?” Sam asked in desperation. 

Dean gave him a sympathetic look, but his voice was firm. “What he is isn't living. Look, this is simple.”

“Simple?” Sam scoffed. 

“To me it is, okay,” Dean returned. “Black or white; human, not human.” He strolled back into the room to tower over the immobilized doctor. “See, what the Doc is is a fuckin’ monster. I can't do it. I would rather go to hell.”

“You don’t understand. I can help you!” The doctor yelled. 

You poured more chloroform onto a rag and handed it to Dean. Dean covered the doctor’s mouth with it and turned to Sam. “Now, I'm gonna take care of him. You can either help me or not. It's up to you.”

***

The three of you laid the doctor’s body in the ground inside a refrigerator wrapped in chains. You dropped the doctor’s book on top of the box. 

“No!” Benton wailed. “Stop it! I can help you!”

“Enjoy forever in there, Doc,” Dean said, sounding slightly emotionless. 

As gruesome as the thought of being trapped down there forever was, it was what needed to be done. And so, you shoveled the displaced dirt back on top of the refrigerator and book. 

When you’d dusted your hands off, you turned to the boys. “Alright, we gotta get the hell outta dodge.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked. 

“Bela’s probably on her way to the motel as we speak,” you replied. “She swiped the receipt from my pocket.”

“And you didn’t think to say anything till now?” Dean asked, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. 

“We were a little preoccupied!” you remarked. “Now, c’mon. Let’s get our shit before she gets there…. Should be in about three hours.”

***

After exactly three hours had passed, you called the motel room you’d been staying in while Dean drove the three of you away from trouble. Quickly, the phone picked up. 

“Hiya, Abby,” you cooed. “Figured you’d be stopping by.”

“Wh—”

You cut Bela off. “I felt your hand in my pocket when you took that receipt.”

Her breathing had become quicker. “You don't understand.”

“Hmm, I’m pretty sure I do,” you told her calmly. “I saw that Devil’s shoestring hangin’ above your door. There’s only one use for that: holding Hellhounds at bay. So I went back and took another look at that obituary for your parents. Exactly ten years ago today. Happy anniversary, I guess.”

When Bela didn’t speak, you continued. “Is that why you stole the Colt, huh? Try to wiggle out of your deal; our gun for your soul?”

“Yes,” she replied, and you could tell she was crying. 

“But stealing the Colt wasn't quite enough, I'm guessing,” you nodded, pursing your lips. 

“They changed the deal. They wanted me to kill Sam,” she cried. 

“Really?” you mocked. “Wow, who’da thought that demons would’ve been untrustworthy. Well, I’ll leave you alone now. Let you live out your last few minutes in peace.”

“(Y/N), listen, I need help,” she begged. 

“We are weeks past help, lovebug.”

“I know I don't deserve it,” Bela continued crying. 

“Y’know, come to think of it, you don’t. But if you’d come to us sooner and asked for help, we probably could’ve taken the Colt and saved you.”

“I know,” she swallowed, “and saved Dean, too. I know about his deal.”

Your heart sank, and your voice became dangerously low. “And who told you that?”

“The demon that holds it. She holds mine too. She said she holds every deal,” Bela explained. 

“She?”

“Her name’s Lilith.”

‘Fabulous,’ you thought. “Lilith? Why should I believe you?” you spat.

“You shouldn’t, but it’s the truth.” “This can't help you; not now. Why’re you telling me this?” you questioned. 

“Because just maybe you can kill the bitch,” she replied, voice holding her usual charm for the first time during your call with her. “Tell Dean I’ll see him soon.”

Taking in a shuddering breath, you said, “See you around, Abby,” and hung up the phone.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[amberstormblade]

Part two of the Viking Piglin AU is here!! If the formatting is off, I apologize! I’m doing this on mobile in my work parking lot. Also, I’m pretending the second level of Grady’s tavern has bedrooms in it because I don’t actually know what’s there so it would make sense.

One last thing! Probably! If you haven’t already, go check out @arckiaym ‘s really cool art that they’ve made based on the concept of this AU! It’s super cool and amazing and I wish to absorb their talent because it’s just that great!

(Hope it’s okay that I tagged you arck, I can probably untag you if you want)

Part One

Legundo had never realized how small Viking was before. He was alway moving around, phasing through things, almost like he was incapable of standing still. But now, as he sat there, shaking in his arms, it was painfully obvious. His jacket hung so loosely off his frame that he was practically drowning in it. The blood that was dripping from his mouth and the pain and confusion painting his eyes didn’t help either.

Speaking of the blood, Joy came over with a damp cloth and started to wipe it away, being extra careful next to the new tusks that were poking from his mouth. They were so short still, it reminded him of the members of his bastion that were fresh from training. While they were technically adults, they were all still so young. Looking at Viking now, he’d fit right in with them. He could see his new tail twitching behind him, as he and Joy now worked together to try and clean his face off. It was obvious that he didn’t have full control over it and that it was bothering him a great deal.

Exhaustion rolled off of Viking in waves. It was clear that the transformation had taken a great deal of energy out of him and that if he wasn’t moved soon, Legundo would become his personal pillow. Viking looked lost in thought in spite of this. He hadn’t spoken much after the initial reveal of his coming back to life, most likely due to the shock of the situation.

“You could set him in my bed for now.” Joy suggested. “Unless you think it would be okay to use the waystones with him. Not quite sure how teleporting would affect the newly revived though.”

Viking jumped at the sudden noise, almost as if he had forgotten that he wasn’t alone. He was quick to cut off any response Legundo had, however. “I’ll be alright. I can just,” He grunts as he shifts to stand, it’s a slightly different noise than what he would have made before and he can’t hold back a flinch. “I can make my way back to my place and then just-” He’s cut off as his legs collapse under him, Joy and Legundo being the only things stopping him from bashing his head on the floor. They gently lower him back down so he can catch his breath.

“Yeah, no offense bud, but I know I’m not letting you out of my sight for a while. Joy probably isn’t either.” She nods in agreement. “You just went through something extremely traumatic to say the least and you’re probably going to need some help. Who knows what’s going to be different now!” Legundo shifted a bit, trying to keep a good grip on Viking. It was a little difficult with the height difference but he and Joy were making it work for now.

“What other differences could there possibly be?” Viking asked, sounding at least slightly in denial of this whole situation. “I mean, I’m fleshy again, sure. That’s going to make it a little more difficult to get in and out of my house but I’ll get by. The tail, also a difference but it’s literally attached to me so I figure I’ll-” As Viking started to ramble, Legs slipped a gold ingot out of his inventory and held it in his face. The younger instantly quieted, all interest now focused on the gold. His pupils dilated until his eyes were practically black and he started making little rumbling sounds. Legundo then put the ingot back in his inventory and Viking seemed to snap back to reality.

“Well you definitely have some new instincts to deal with!” Legundo said with a bit of a chuckle. After a second however, he grimaced slightly, almost speaking to himself. “I’m going to need to teach you about those, aren’t I?”

“Where’d the shiny go?!” Viking was almost distressed, still teetering on the edge of his sudden fixation. “Why did that happen? Why would gold of all things make me do, um, do whatever the heck that was!”

“I’ll explain it to you, don’t worry. Just need to think of a good way to do it.” Legs sighed. He then helped Viking stand again, making sure to go slow just in case.

The small group made their way over to the waystone while Joy and Legundo explained that the transformation seemed to have given him some piglin instincts as well as the obvious physical features. Legs had decided that the best thing for right now would be bringing him to spawn so he could rest until the meet up that was happening that evening. Then they would bring up this development with everyone else and figure out where to go from there. Joy decided to stay back for now as she wanted to start researching into what had happened further and make sure that Viking would be okay. It was only after they had arrived at spawn that Viking noticed something else.

“The sun!” He stared at the sky in awe, almost as if seeing it for the first time. “It-it feels… It feels amazing!”

“Oh yeah, it kind of just hurt you before, didn’t it?” asked Legs, who was still supporting most of his weight. “Not catching on fire must feel nice, huh?”

Viking let out a hum, eyes closed and seemingly soaking up the warmth that he had been missing out on for a long time. He seemed to sag into Legundo as exhaustion threatened to drag him down once more, only to jolt back awake as a strange rumbling sound seemed to come from him. Legs sighed and scooped him up so they could travel faster, deciding to explain yet another new trait along the way.

“Us piglins are capable of making a wide array of noises. That rumbling is something similar to a cat purring, it can mean different things depending on the situation. Sometimes it’s used to help calm others or you make it when you’re calm or content. Sometimes it’ll happen if piglin feel sick but that’s mostly in younger ones. Although, I’m not sure how that would work with you, considering the circumstances.” Viking was doing his best to listen but all he could manage was a small grunt to acknowledge that he’d even heard anything. “Don’t suppose you’re awake enough to point me to your place, are you?” When Viking didn’t respond Legundo just sighed. “All the action today really tired you out, huh. Guess we’ll see if there’s space for you to rest in the tavern, I’m sure Grady won’t mind.”

[disabled-queer-culture-is]

Hello there! Not a culture ask, just needed some advice on something.

So I've had catatonia for a couple years now. And over time, the long term effects of catatonic episodes have greatly impacted my muscles and joints, causing lots of weakness, muscle spasms, and numbness, especially in my legs and arms, and I've recently been saving up some money to get a mobility aid to help me walk.

I was also born with leg length discrepancy and clubfoot, which also affects my ability to walk.

But recently I received a comment from someone telling me that I'm not "disabled enough" and idk it just... it really got to me. It made me feel like I don't belong in disabled spaces. I usually try to brush off comments like that, but given that it came from someone very close to me, it hit hard.

So idk, I guess what I'm trying to say is, do you have any advice for someone like me who's been told they're not "disabled enough" and how to deal with comments like that? I would really appreciate it.

Ah, that’s one I’m still working on, myself. (You know how it gets with imposter syndrome.) Here’s some things I try to keep in mind when faced with those comments!

Those people don’t care about you. They don’t care what evidence you show them, they don’t care whether or not you’re physically disabled or what struggles you might have. They just want to argue and put you down. Call them out for being a jerk and an idiot (if you have the courage to/it won’t put you in danger) and end the conversation. They don’t care about you, so do your best not to care about them.

They don’t know you! Even if they’re a family member you’ve lived with your whole life, they are not you, and they cannot and will not ever fully understand what you’re going through. They don’t know your emotions or the way you struggle and grieve your health behind closed doors. If they don’t know your situation and aren’t trying to understand, how can you trust them to make an accurate judgement about your health?

You don’t owe them your medical history. They just want to fight, don’t play their game. The ONLY people you owe your medical history to are the healthcare professionals you are going to for help. Don’t waste your time and energy trying to give them enough evidence to prove that you are disabled enough. (If it’s a struggle you’re running into with getting necessary accommodations/help, get a trusted ally in your corner and have them fight with you! Threaten to call whatever sort of organization your country has for disability rights/advocacy! Nothing will turn around that attitude like threatening to get the law involved.)

You ARE disabled enough. There’s no mountain you have to climb to count yourself as disabled enough. If you have any sort of long term condition, officially diagnosed or not, that impacts your ability to lead an independent life without any sort of aid, you are disabled.

I’m really sorry to hear that it was someone close to you who said such an awful thing. My recommendation would be to get someone who has proven themselves to be trustworthy with respecting you and your disability, and set a time to bring them along to have a talk with the person who told you that. Tell that person that what they said hurt you, that it was an unreasonable and insulting thing to say to anyone, especially someone they claim to care about. Tell them that they can either sort that attitude out, or you can cut them from your life. (It’s okay to leave the room/turn off your phone after that! They’ll probably want to start a fight. Don’t let them, and keep yourself safe.)

I know it’s hard to cut out someone who you care about. But if they can’t put in the basic effort to not call you a liar about something that affects every single second of your life, or at least apologize after they hurt you, you deserve better than them. You are disabled enough. You deserve people who care about you and want to help you live your life to the fullest. You deserve a community of people who understand your struggles, even if only a little bit. My DMs are open if there’s anything I can do to support you!

[solrika]

Vent post.

Id put it behind a cut but I’m on mobile :/ also this is very ramble and not at all coherent but oh well.

I always have a bit of an issue with posts like this that are like “your trauma and how you react to it doesn’t make you a bad person” because. Uh. Cycles of abuse are a thing, you can absolutely do bad things out of trauma responses. You can absolutely be a shitty, hurtful person from a place of pain. (Staring at the entire state of Israel and its treatment of Palestine). Especially in the context of that post, which specifically mentions anger issues and addiction.

I’m not replying or reblogging said post because I truly don’t think that’s what op was going for, the greater point was “autism isn’t just sunshine and roses but can create real issues for people,” it’s just… an accidental unfortunate implication. But it’s late and I’m dealing with my own neuroatyoical issues flaring up atm so. Yelling about implications and the need for nuance and space for caretaker burnout on my own blog. Probably dealing with some buried trauma of my own.

(Also the USA healthcare system sucks for people who can’t easily take care of themselves, I dunno what it’s like outside the country but in here you need SO Much Money just to get barely adequate care for TBIs or Alzheimer’s or shit. )

There’s a little byplay in the notes that I think is important—someone says “I don’t have autism but I got secondhand trauma because my sibling does,” someone else responds “fuck you, of course allistic is making it all about them self” and a third person goes “hey it’s very common for the siblings of disabled people to be neglected in favor of the ‘squeaky wheel,’ I know it hurts to hear but disability hurts more than just the disabled person.” That plus some of the notes describing damage that autistic people have done (and largely regretted) to others… Disabled people can cause harm. That’s a thing!!! Being disabled does not make you blameless! Cool motive still murder!

And your disability can absolutely cause secondhand harm even if you don’t mean it to! My little sister no longer feels like the smaller sibling because my parents spend more emotional energy on me—and that’s a mild case, my disability only really began being an issue when we were both in college. It’s nothing compared to her friend, whose adult brother suffered a TBI and can’t live at home because it’s not safe to have a huge man around who can’t regulate his strength when he’s upset. It’s not at all his fault that he’s like this, but it’s a horrible situation and ALL involved should be able to say that it’s horrible.

I have done shitty things because of trauma responses, and I have worked really hard to create strategies to keep those shitty behaviors from happening again. I give myself—and others—a bit of a pass when a situation is truly uncontrollable. Or when someone is actively trying to ignore boundaries I’ve set to protect myself, but… that’s not the same as going “I have anger issues. Huh. Oh well! I will continue having destructive trauma responses and do nothing to mitigate it!”

I dunno. I’m sure some of this strong reaction of mine comes from being lashed out at by people in the midst of their own meltdowns, even though those have been more TBI related than autism related. Still. The meltdown was unavoidable but the ways they acted during were… hm. Not great.

At least stay away from vulnerable entities when you’re like this. My partner removes himself from the dog when he’s having a meltdown because the dog can provoke him into physically lashing out. (The dog has no idea, of course. The dog is very stupid and only barely understands what me crying means. ) He can’t control the meltdown happening but he can step away from things he could hurt. I really wish the people who hurt me had stepped away from the child I was.

I wish I’d gotten an apology, too. Like at least apologize for your shitty behavior, please!

(This whole “writing my own separate post and not tagging op” is one of those “hm. Am having Emotion. How to express it without causing pain to others” things I’ve tried to cultivate.)

If you don’t fucking MANAGE damage to others, others won’t want to be around you. If you hurt someone they are absolutely within their rights to set boundaries to protect themselves.

I dunno. I started at point A and I’m not sure where I went from there. Don’t be a dick I guess.

[iwouldfuckajcrowley]

Another Crowley/Reader fic that obviously is not written by a particular angel submitted by an anon

You don’t normally do this sort of thing, but you’ve been invited by casual friends to the local discotheque, and they’ve been after you to go for weeks, and so tonight you’ve given in and agreed. You’ve dressed for the occasion, though not to stand out. You expect you’ll spend the evening holding the wall up, so to speak, not being one for dancing.

Your friends are happy just to have gotten you in the building, honestly, so they let you try to enjoy the music from the very back. It’s all very loud and very fast, but everyone on the dance floor seems to like it, and anyway, there are more offensive things in the world than enthusiastically-blared ABBA. It just all feels a bit of a bore– a bit of a headache.

But then, you hadn’t expected Crowley to be there as well. He looks good, but then, he always does– fashionable. His trousers, despite being quite close-fitting at the thigh, have just enough flare to get into this sort of place, his shirt collar is spread wide in a trendy sort of way… and his shirt is open, just enough to show off a tantalizing glimpse of his chest. And the mustache! So virile…

When he spots you, he heads towards your little spot along the wall, all confident swagger as he snakes between those boogie-ing the night away on the dance floor. He walks with his hips and the rest of him just follows. When he reaches you, he nudges his dark glasses down his nosebridge. golden eyes raking over you. You suddenly find yourself quite aware of the extra height the heels of his shoes give him, height he hardly needs.

“Care for a dance?” He asks, glasses back in place now– back before anyone but you might have the chance of seeing his naked eyes. Seeing his true nature. That… that is a select privilege, conferred upon you only because of your long asso and few others over the millennia.

“I’m afraid I don’t…” You protest, though you let him take your hand in his. You haven’t danced since 190367 and it wasn’t at all like this. He guides one of your hands to his hip, takes the other up. Tugs you close…

“Then isn’t it time you gave it a go?” He grins.

“Is this suede?” You ask, nervously trying to make conversation, and rather fixated on the soft fabric of his trousers. He’d placed your hand at his hip so casually, and yet it consumes you.

“AnBaby, it’s ultrasuede.” He says. Not that ‘ultrasuede’ means anything to you, but he sounds very confident in saying it, and also his other hand is on your hip, and that all makes it very difficult to think about these things.

You’re not much for dancing, but being in his arms… you could be one for that. Anyway… he’s not really much of a dancer himself. Demons aren’t much better than angels, in that regard, one supposes. Still, you’ve never known another angel to have Crowley’s raw sexual magnetism… something about him draws you in, something about him goes to your head like sparkling wine.

His cologne is unexpected, a light floral entwined with seductive vanilla, a contrast to the ultra-masculine appearance… and it’s undercut by the barest hint of skin musk,

“I’m afraid this really isn’t my 'scene’…” You apologize, but it comes out rather weak. He releases you, but doesn’t move far, doesn’t stop his own gyrations, holding your focus with every enticing wriggle, every motion of arm, every shimmy of hip… and the way he flicks his tongue out towards you, the hint of something inhuman…

“Are you asking me if I want to get out of here?” He winks no how would you know that? grins, reaching out and cupping your chin in his hand.

“My shop flat is just around the corner…” You say, emboldened. By his flirtations, by his cologne, or just by your own wicked desires…

“Someone should walk you home, dark night like this.” He leans in close. “You never know what’s out there…”

“Yes, it would be terrible if I were to be beset upon on my walk home, by some… wicked demon with designs upon my virtue.” You smile.

“Oh, I wouldn’t let that happen.” And he looms ever closer, so close you can see those serpentine eyes behind his dark lenses. “I’m the only demon who’ll be menacing your virtue tonight.”

The shiver you feel at the very thought of him… at the very thought of surrender!

“Take me home?” You say, and he offers you his arm.

You’re so aware of him, on your walk home. The closeness of his body and the way that he moves, like having a great predator loping along at your side, radiating power, and there beside him, you’re safe. Protected.

He follows you up to your flat, and no sooner do you have the door locked than he’s upon you, has you pressed up against it to be kissed, forked tongue teasing at your lips, sliding into your mouth… The most wondrous haze seems to descend upon you both, making the world beyond you both unreal. There is only Crowley, his hands on you, his mouth on you, his body pressed so close to yours.

“You wanted my virtue?”

“Oh, yes…” He hisses, fisting a hand in your hair and baring your throat to his kisses. To the tickling darting touch of his tongue, and the barest graze of viperine fangs, and the rough rub of his mustache against tender skin. “I want to relieve you of it.”

“That could take some time.” You warn him. “I’m as much virtue as you are vice.”

“And how much vice do you think I’m made of?” He asks, his breath hot against your neck. He pushes his thigh between yours, sliding up to nudge against the spot where you would manif your sex. Being as it’s always in the same place and always the same shape, and you never don’t have it, because that would be very odd, and you are just a person.

“I think you’re a beast.” You moan, and he grins against you, and nips at you just a little.

“And I’m about to act like one.” He promises. He moves you from the door to the sofa, and bends you over the back of it, strong and sudden enough to make you swoon. He takes your trousers down, and you he simply miracles your shirt away, along with his own clothes.

You feel so eager for him, enough to make you weak in the knees, and his grip on your hips is firm, holding you right where he wants you as he trails wet kisses up your spine. You can feel the friction of his mustache, and the softness of his lips, and the wicked, clever working of his tongue as he works his way higher. His firm prick slides between your thighs, teasingly near and not near enough to where you would most like it buried, he thrusts between them as his kisses now travel from the center line of your spine across your upper back. And his hands slide up from your hips, to travel up your back as well, like the first slow stroke of a sensual massage.

“Oh… oh, you know what you do to me…” You rock against him, need igniting pathways along your skin, bringing you to life in new and thrilling ways.

“I have my suspicions.” He admits, and his tongue traces strange sigils across one shoulderblade. You can feel the building pressure and need for release there, can feel him calling forth the deepest and most intimate parts of you, as he kisses and teases around the joint, as your skin tingles the way it would before a powerful storm.

Almost before you know what’s happened, he’s dug his thumbs in just there and kissed you just so, and you couldn’t stop your wings unfurling if you trie from rocking your hips down against him in search of further sexual stimulation. The normal way that that happens.

He sinks his teeth into your wi shoulder, and probes delicately between your legs with slicked fingers, opening you to him like a delicate flower, before sliding home, sheathing himself inside you to the hilt. Oh, and you never felt so complete… You couldn’t have designed your body to receive him more perfectly.

Not that you could design your body to do anything of the sort, of course. That’s not how bodies work and we all understand that fact of nature. I only mean that’s how magical it feels, not that you might have attempted to do something like that. That would be silly.

Of course I suppose he could have made himself to fit you, but not on the first go, he’d have to have a feel for depth and… elasticity? Or… something of that nature, I mean, he’d have to have a baseline, he’d have to know what you felt like in order to literally transform his prick to suit you. Anyway.

He fills you and you know what life is for. You were put on this earth to love and be loved by him– and if love is a virtue, then your virtue be an endless well he might draw from, but he can never relieve you of it.

He can, however, move inside you, in firm and powerful thrusts. Virtue you may have an unending supply of, but rational thought is something you are rapidly losing hold of as he gives it to you but good. He urges you along in your pleasure, hissing encouragements in your ear as you moan his name, helpless beneath him, once a being of duty and now a being of electric pleasure, once filled with love for all things and now filled only with his love.

His hands close around the patagium of each w your hips as he drives himself into you, as he spends himself deep within your body, in the wake of your own overwhelming pleasure. He kisses a line back down your spine as he withdraws from you, as you shiver and whine at the loss of him. You slump against the back of your sofa, and you think if this is what going out to the discotheque gets you, you might go more often.

[stephantom]

mcicioni-blog replied to your post “almost halfway through the last episode of the first season of Black...”

No F/S moments yet? Didn't you enjoy the way they loked at each other during the raw pig scene? And yes about Vane, who seems to be gated by most fans, and who is a foul bastard at the beginning, but acquires depth and dignity as the show goes on imo

I thought that Vane’s backstory (and return to confront and conquer it) gave him depth and made him more understandable. I think he has some good inclinations, and wants to be better than he is but is simultaneously kind of self-sabotaging (I think he has a lot of self-loathing, and that that’s a big part of his relationship with Eleanor), buut as soon as I think maybe I like him, he does stuff like refer to Anne as Rackham’s dog, or fondly remind Eleanor how hot she was when she was 13. :/ 

At least, this was my feeling as of the ending of season 1. Now I have binge-watched the first half of season 2 (it feels much more fast-paced and suspenseful) and he’s grown on me much more. In fact, in the Flint vs. Vane conflict, I think I’m mostly rooting for Vane. Like Eleanor said, Flint chose to instigate this, and Vane has no way to back out and save face.

As for F/S, iiiidk haha. I think I do remember a flicker of something in that scene you mentioned, some light-hearted teasing. But for the most part, they seem to both be focused on their goals right now, not on each other (or other people in general). Flint is very much stuck in his own head, and Silver is just trying to find his way through chaos. Now that I’m halfway through the second season, where Silver has positioned himself as Flint’s right hand, I can see more of a connection forming. Silver seems to be becoming more curious about who Flint is (I think maybe the first moment where I could see something really forming there was when Flint asked Silver if people, and Silver himself, saw him as a villain, and Silver seemed so surprised at the idea of Flint really caring about that. “And with all the things you’ve done? It must be horrible to be you.” Or something like that.)

One thing I want to say about Flint is that, although I’m not really sure I like him, yet, that fact might actually make the reveal of his relationship with Hamilton more powerful and more of a subversion. He’s not the first gay character in TV, but he might be the first of the Tragically Cynical, Morally Ambiguous, Physically-And-Intellectually-Impressive “Alpha” Male TV-Protagonist trope to be unambiguously not straight. Imagine if Mr. Favor spent a whole season and a half brooding and barking at people and getting people to follow him in spite of themselves again and again, etc., and then during one of his many moody “heavy is the head that wears the crown” scenes, we suddenly got a flashback of him tenderly kissing another man. In canon. It really is kind of amazing. I knew it was coming and I was still amazed.

So, now, at this point, I can feel the Flint/Silver possibilities, yes. I could see something happening there, some directions the story could take. Flint reconnecting with his younger self, forgiving himself. Silver bringing a lightness.

I still am a little more interested in what’s happening with Anne and Max and Jack, at the moment. And even in Vane and his struggle to survive and be respected and free and powerful and also not a brute. Which I think earning Eleanor’s respect (even more than her love) kind of symbolizes for him.

I think usually when I get really invested in a ship, there has to be one or more characters that I’m drawn to in that way where I can’t really pick apart whether I’m attracted to them or I want to be them, or just recognize something in them. I think the character most like that for me on this show right now is probably Anne. And there’s something about Anne and Jack’s relationship that feels very real to me--that connection that’s something better than romance, that feels almost like siblings, where they’re just so comfortable with each other, and where whatever happens, they still know that they will have each other. Flint and Silver have both yet to really win me over. But that could change. Already I am feeling a little warmer toward Flint, after that last episode (which ended with a memory of him and Hamilton kissing--well, that and then a current-timeline cliffhanger).

[wiypt-writes]

25 Days Of CHRIS-Mas

Summary: Ransom is still a disaster in the kitchen but knows just how to rescue the meal he’s been trying to cook all day…

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale (Knives Out) x Reader

Warnings: Bad Language, smut (NSFW, 18+)

W/C: Hazard a guess about 2k ish

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction, any likeness to any persons or events in real life are purely co-incidental. I do not own any characters contained herein bar the reader and/or any original characters. I do not give consent for my work to be copied and posted/translated onto any other sites. If you see this fiction anywhere other than Tumblr, it has been taken without permission.By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer and ALL warnings posted here.

A/N: HE IS BACK!! Real Life Tasks Ransom and Reader return and we get an insight into their lives as parents now!

Posted on mobile with my left hand. Apologies in advance for any mistakes! Dedicated to @sweater-daddiesdumbdork and @jennmurawski13 who wrote this Ransom with me last year…

25 Days Of CHRIS-mas Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Day 22: Ari Levinson (Red Sea Diving Resort)

Miserable. That was the only word he could think of at the moment. Ransom Drysdale was miserable.

He'd been attempting to make dinner, a fancy one at that, in three attempts now and so far, he burnt it, undercooked it and somehow turned a sauce into a gelatinous glob.

"This is bullshit," he said flatly. A coo sounded as he looked behind him at his eleven month old son, Teddy, happily gnawing away on a snack cracker and fruit while he suffered over the filthy counters and stove.

“Thanks for your support,” Ransom’s hands felll to his hips. “Suppose you think this is funny.”

A squeal came in reply.

“I would tell you to eat shit,” Ransom arched a brow before he scoffed and looked at the devastation on the kitchen side, “looks like your mommy’s gonna be doing that.”

Teddy signed for more snacks and Ransom groaned.

"Words, kid, they're in there, just... speak."

“Abbabbbaaddd,” came the nonsense reply.

With a tremendous eye roll that would put Joni to shame, Ransom scoffed at his son and went back to whatever bleak situation dinner had become but not before tossing his son another biscuit.

He cussed and he groaned, his fourth and now his final attempt at a meal falling from the pot and pan and straight into the garbage.

Checking his watch, he flicked up his brows. "Perfect. Just enough time for Bistro de Paris to deliver."

He reached for his phone and just as he was about to call through his order, it rang, his mothers caller ID flashing on the screen. For a moment he hesitated, ready to decline the call, but his Nanna Wanetta hadn’t been well recently so…

“Linda?”

“Lovely to speak to you, too.” His mom's sarcastic response came.

"To what do I owe the lack of pleasure ?"

“I wanted to know if me and your father will be seeing you, Y/N and Theodore on Christmas Day.”

“No,” he replied simply, cutting the call.

That easily handled, he dialed the bistro and put in the order for the exact meal he was attempting to make. Once he’d read his card details out he tossed the phone back into the side abs looked around at the mess in the kitchen.

“Fahk,” he grumbled, his eyes flicking back to Teddy, “you know, before I met your mom my time was filled with alcohol, hookers and drugs. Now it’s housework, puke and dirty diapers.”

Teddy blinked, blue eyes so like his own gazed back up at Ransom and then his baby boy smiled at him. A smile so big it caused his little nose to scrunch up, flashing the four teeth he had.

"You're lucky you're cute," Ransom snorted and collected Teddy from his high chair. "Let's get you down for a nap, huh?"

Then in a quick move, he puckered his lips and pressed them into his son's forehead.

Teddy down in the pack and play, Ransom quickly got rid of any evidence of his kitchen disaster. He’d become quite adapt at most household chores over the last few years since you had fallen pregnant; okay, some had resulted in trips to the ER, others almost burning the house down or blowing it up. But he tried. Which was more than anyone had ever expected of him.

And in that he was proud. But dinner, he'd yet to master anything beyond boiling water and the simplest of meals. In a way, it frustrated him, annoyed him to a desperate end each time and for once, just once in his life he wanted it to get it right the first time.

It was your favorite meal, chicken cordon bleu with dauphinois potatoes and a beurre blanc, and it mattered to him that he got it right. For you.

He tossed the pans into the dishwasher and set it going, before grabbing a beer and heading to the lounge. He found himself googling cookery classes before he snorted and gave his head a wobble.

“Fahk this, I’d rather hire a chef.”

That was it, the answer to his Christmas gift for the two of you. A chef, to handle dinners and the shopping. Weekends you could manage together, breakfast, he was getting good at and lunch was simple enough to throw together. Dinner, yep, Merry Christmas, you were getting a chef.

Just as Teddy began to stir, the gate buzzer went signalling the food was here. Setting it to one side to serve just before you got home, he got his son's dinner ready.

"Butter noodles and peas for you tonight, spawn," he set a few tablespoons on the highchair and began plating your meal.

In the knick of time, you pulled in and he smirked to himself as he set the last container in the trash.

You walked onto the kitchen, kicking off your heels and beemed as Teddy gave an excited shriek.

"Hi handsome, how's my baby?" You cooed back at him, plucking him from his chair.

“I’m fine.” Ransom replied.

“I was talking to Ted.”

“I remember a time before the crotch goblin when I was the first person you’d kiss when you got home,”

"But you're always my last." You kissed him.

“Good day?” He asked as you set Teddy back in his chair.

"Meh, this Christmas charity ball is going to kill me, but I'm better now. I had to work through lunch and I'm starved."

Ransom frowned, “that asshole Barber works you too hard. You’re a legal secretary not a fucking party planner.”

"There's a committee of us, Ransom," you shook your head, "and Andy is a senior partner, who happens to have his turn this year as the event head. They rotate each year. It's fine, I'm fine, just tired."

“He’s still a prick. And that son of his is a creep, reminds me of Walt’s brat.”

"Well, just... Let it go, okay?" You patted his cheek and sighed. "Dinner ready, handsome?" Now you looked to him with the moniker.

"Yup,” he nodded. “Go change and I’ll serve it up.”

"Okay!"

“You can wear my sweater, no need for anything else.”

"I might do just that."

With a smirk, you left the room and headed to change. You pulled on his soft cable knit, a pair of bed shorts and chunky socks before you made your way back down to the kitchen.

"That's what I'm looking for," Ransom smirked as he eyed you.

“Save it for later, Tiger, I’m starved.”

He handed you a glass of wine and you went to sit. He grabbed the two plates and followed right behind you.

As you sat, he placed a plate in front of you and you blinked. “You made this?”

"Yep, worked all day on it.”

“I’m impressed.”

"Thank you," he shrugged.

“I mean the house didn’t burn down…” you took a sip of wine, “wait, you still got all your fingers?”

"I'll show you what all ten fingers can do after he," he nods to Teddy, "goes to bed."

"Maybe you can show me, in the den by the fire and our Christmas tree."

“As long as your not gonna make me watch some Hallmark shit beforehand.”

"Fine, how about you read to me, you haven't done that in a while."

Ransom smiled genuinely, his cheeks sporting just a hint of a flush. For all his bluster and bravado, there were certain moments with you he loved. Reading to you had become a habit when you were pregnant, and one he’d happily adopted for Teddy too.

“Okay.”

"A Christmas Carol?"

He shrugged “you know Scrooge was on crack, right? It’s the only explanation.”

"Absolutely," you snorted.

“But I’ll read you the crack fic, Princess.”

You smile warmly in appreciation.

Breezing through the rest of dinner, you allow Ransom to clear the plates while you bathed Teddy for bed. His night time bottle of milk was had as he sat on his daddy’s knee, Ransom gently reading to him as he sat snuggled up in his little blue pajamas.

Becoming a father had truly brought out the best in your husband, who so many before you had written off as a spoilt, trust fund prick. Which wasn’t entirely inaccurate, but you saw a side to him no others bothered to even try and notice.

And you knew, despite what anyone may say, he’d die for the little bundle that was now starting to fall asleep on his lap. He didn't even make it to the final page of the nursery rhyme book before Teddy was fast asleep, the bottle languidly hanging from his mouth.

Ransom glanced down, smiling as he pressed a kiss to your baby’s hair. “Love you, spawn”

“Stop calling him that!” You admonished.

"I mean it endearingly," he lifted the tot and gently led him in his crib.

You tucked him in and turned on the night light, the pair of you posing in the doorway, watching for a second.

“He is beautiful, Ransom,” you sighed, “how did we make something so perfect?”

"I ask myself that every time I look in the mirror."

You turned to him with a sigh and roll of your eyes as he ran his hand through his hair, a soft look on his face.

“I know I’m an asshole, and I don’t deserve anything so wonderful but here we are, huh?”

"Here we are."

“Come on, princess.” His arm dropped round your shoulders. “I owe you a story.” His nose dipped into your temple as his lips fell over the shell of your ear. "And a few fingers."

“You do,” you smirked. “Which one d’ya wanna do first?”

"Fuck you into Christmas morning," he nipped at your ear as you walked the halls.

"That’s a week away… you think you got that kind of staying power?”

“Oh baby, you know I do.”

You flicked your brows, you knew he did. You definitely knew he did.

“Still wanna go downstairs?” He rumbled in your ear as you passed the door to your room.

"Nope." You pulled him into your doorway with a flirtatious giggle.

“Mrs Drysdale, I like your style,” he smirked as he kicked the door shut behind him.

Your lips were quick on his, his hands finding the hem of that sweater he loved to see you in so often. He loved your body, the way in ways it remained the same before Teddy and the supple ways it had changed since. His eyes flashed in the dim light coming from the strings of bulbs which hung down over the outside of your windows as he took in your bare chest, tiny shorts and socks which were pulled up to your knees.

"Fuck you're so beautiful," he breathed out as he backed you into the bed, his knees crawling across the mattress while your ass scooted along the plush surface. "My little kitten."

You blinked up at him coquettishly, your hands moving to the top of your right sock, but his fingers were quick to curl round your wrist, the metal of his wedding band cool against your skin.

“You know I like them, princess, leave 'em on.”

“Kinky fucker." You bit your lip.

"With you, anything," he smirked.

His lips pressed back you yours, the kiss urgent as his tongue battled for dominance with yours

"No foreplay," you nipped at his bottom lip. "Need you."

“So we’re skipping the fingers,” he nodded, sitting back in his heels and tugging your sleep shorts down, “needy bitch.”

Gracefully, he rose to his feet and whipped off his burgundy sweater before he undid his belt and jeans, and in a flash was naked by the side of the bed.

"Plans change," you swallowed, admiring your husband's body and form. Stay at home fatherhood didn't change him in physical or mental prowess whatsoever.

His hands gripped your ankles and he gave a sharp tug, pulling you down the bed so your ass was just perching on the edge at the foot.

"I thought I said... Oh fuck," his thick shaft slipped right inside.

"What was that?" He grunted as he pulled back and thrust forward again, his hands on your ankles, wrapping those smooth legs of yours around his slender waist.

"Oh fuck." You shuddered again.

“Yeah, that’s it…” he thrust deeper, “fahk, you were made for me.”

Your hands grasped for the comforter, fistfuls as he plowed into you as deep as he could. Your preening and gasping well heard no doubt if company were around.

"Fahking take me so well, kitten."

“Hugh, fuck…”

"Don't... call... me... that..." he grunted with each thrust. "Say my name."

You smirked sinfully and preened as he hit a sensitive spot, "Ransom."

"Yeah, baby, you’re mine.”

"Harder, please. Fill me up," you whimpered.

"Gonna fill you so good you’ll be feeling me for days, princess.”

"Dripping with you," you panted.

“God, you’re a dirty bitch,” he grunted, pulling out of you. You whined but didn’t have much chance to protest as he manhandled you onto your front.

Ass up, face down, his hand curled a kind your neck as your cheek pressed to the bed. In a jolt he was back inside you, a loud hiss coming from his mouth.

"Such a tight pussy, kitten, all mine," his flat tongue laved up your spine as he pistoned into you.

"Yeah, always…”

A few more deep thrusts and you were crying his name as you came. Your body went lax in his hold as your orgasm washed over you, your mind a pure blank as his hips continued powering in and out of you

You could feel him swell and pulse inside you, his fingertips pressing into your hips. A gutteral growl boomed from his throat and chest as he spilled into you.

A moment later he collapsed onto the bed besides you, turning you both as he did so. Strong, possessive arms held you to him, your back pressed to his chest.

He peppered between your shoulders with kisses, soft and slow. Your chest inflated slowly as you steadied your breath, breathing out long exhales.

"I love you," his nose bumped the back of your ear.

"I love you, too." You replied. "And I love Bistro de Paris."

You giggled a little as you felt his kisses stop, his body grow rigid behind you, his softened cock still stuffed inside you, plugging his essence from dripping out. "What?"

“You heard.”

That low, deep chuckle grew in his well sculpted chest, "Busted."

"Mmhmm," you hummed. "Next time, take the trash out beforehand."

“I did try. Those pans we have kept burning everything.”

"Blaming the pans isn’t going to improve your skills, Ransom."Gently you turned in his hold, your body freeing him from your heat. "But, I deeply appreciate the effort, honey. I know you try."

He smirked a little, his lips pecking yours, “we know my skills lie in the bedroom, princess, not the kitchen.”

🎄🎄🎄🎄

Day 24: Andy Barber (Defending Jacob)

[askfallenroyalty]

Dark World Arc Posting 1/?

Hey so like, remember the dark arc from like, a year ago? and i canned it so i never uploaded it? well, the ending was done on stream and i got real close to the ending, it was going to have a music video/video game to finish it off but it never came to fruition.

anyway its about time i take some time to upload the sketches and what part of the animation was done, and write down what would of happened.

under the cut there’s gonna be a million images lmao

god.... if tumblr mobile doesn’t put this under a readmore i think i would literally die and oombust

CW: knives, talk of stabbing (for magic reasons, not for violence. kris isn’t going to be hurt) threats of actual violence (empty talk), one panel has chara face shift like flowey to be scary. 

Each picture is accompanied by a description for the visual impaired.

2 Panels:

Chara grabs Kris’ shoulder. They are facing away, unbothered. There’s Feylow 2.0, in monster-skull form behind the two of them. Chara says “Kris?” next panel, Chara looks down, saddened. “Oh, right. You’re possessed.”

1 Panel:

We get a shot of Kris against a solid black background. They stand stiffly. Red Text reads Badum, badum, badum, a heart beat. 

1 Panel:

A close up of Kris’ face, shadowed harshly.

1 Panel:

A medium shot of Kris, reaching for their soul, face concentrating.

1 Panel:

Kris grabs their soul, a solid red background and kris is shadowed darkly against the red of the soul. They grimace in pain.

1 Panel:

Back to reality. They turn back to Chara, a determined expression on their face. Chara looks confused. Kris yells “Chara! Stab me!” in blue text.

1 Panel:

Chara looks disgruntled, beyond confused. Kris still looks sternly at them head on.

1 Panel: 

 Chara throws their hands up in the air. “NO!” they shout, Kris rolls their eyes, anoyed and groans at the reaction.

3 Panels:

Dobatsgetcavitites, one of the stream commentors says the following: Chara has holy magic. If they stab kris in teh heart, we and the knight will be relinquish control.

Chara consdiers this, humming in thought as they rub their chin. They then become more casual, saying “yeah, okay.” Chara pulls out a magic made knife with an audible shing! “That’ll work!” They declare.

1 Panel: 

 Frisk is face palming. Lancer is unfazed. Chara readies to stab Kris, who has googly eyes and is panicked. Susie rushes to stop Chara. “Wait, STOP!” she shouts.

1 Panel: 

 “Yeah by KILLING THEM!” She states, against Chara’s logic. She’s covered in dark ooze from when she attacked Kris and the Knight.

1 Panel:

Chara raises an eyebrow, cocky. “Aw, is the baby scared of a lil of a little stabbing?” They ask, still holding the knife in stabbing postion.

1 Panel: 

 Chara mocks Susie by pretending to be surprised and concerned. “But oh,” they continue, “You were so fine with axing the Knight before!”

1 Panel: 

 Chara’s face contorts into a scary face, black eyes oozing and mouth unnaturally large. They point their knife inward in a threatening gesture. “I should GUT you,” they state, “You little hypocritical swine.”

1 Panel:

Frisk signs “no,” at Chara who rulls their eyes and goes “tch” in annoyance. Kris breathes a sigh of relief, comically wide eyed.

2 Panels:

A Fan of All Trades, another stream commenter commands kris: Apologize to Feylow, group hug and say goodbye. Pray for a safe return.

Kris goes up to Feylow, laying their forehead against the beast who accepts the comfort. “Apologies,” kris states in red text.

(NOTE: originally there was going to be an added scene to give Feylow more depth as a confused betrayed beast. Feylow would of whine and beg for mercy, Kris would comfort them and tell them it’s almost over.)

2 Panels:

Kris then goes up to Frisk, Chara and Lancer, arms out wide. Feylow is pacified, ready for sleep. “Hug.” Kris states again in red rext. They go over to Chara, pulling them in a hug. Frisk gets excited, Lancer hugs Kris in return. 

1 Panel:

Frisk joins the group hug, squishing Chara who is now sandwiched in the  middle. Kris and Chara seem surprised as well.

1 Panel:

Frisk is so happy at hugging their new friend and Chara. Chara is squished, uncomfortable and barely tolerating it. Kris is awkwardly smiling, also squished. They say “thanks” in blue text.

1 Panel:

Kris rolls their eyes playfully and Chara gets demonic again. Chara threatens with: “Let go or I’ll stab you all.” Kris interupts, sweating anxiously with their hand up. “But you’re going to anyway.” (again in blue text.)

2 Panels:

Kris goes back under control and in red text. They become stiff. “Pray for a safe return” they state before going slack, falling to the ground.

1 Panel:

AfanofTrades says: Oh, I have an idea to make this easier. Kris, go to sleep.

Dobatsgetscavities says: Sweet dreams honey.

Kris is now asleep against Feylow who is unbothered. Lancer is confused, tongue sticking out idly. Chara and Frisk stand to the right, cut off by the framing of the panel. Chara holds a red knife.

2 Panels: Frisk looks at Chara, unsure about all of this. Char looks down, saddened and unsure too. Chara then transforms their knife into their Holy Spear from earlier in the Darkworld Arc, when they had their cherub form. It’s a long spear with a red heart attached between the blade and wood. Frisk is now REALLY concerned over this change.

-

That’s it for now. these take like, idk, 3 hours or so to convert into this format? Tho, maybe that’s cause i had to set up the big webtoons pages first. Probably won’t take as long next time i do this. I want to shoot for once a week or more, but no promises. 

[tu-sugar-mami]

It has always been you #4

You can read part 3 here

(EDIT-NOW WITH SPOTIFY PLAYLIST)

(sorry for long post, Tumblr mobile won't let me cut it)

___________________

Slender skittish fingers find themselves fidgeting with a carefully hand carved wooden box on the lady's lap as she stares at the plate sitting on the currently too big and empty table. It's a quite simple local dish, the kind of food you would often prepare for her before you started with the delights of foreign cuisine. She can't help but to stare blankly at it, knuckles turning white as her grip on the box becomes stronger. The Lady lets out a shaky exhale. She knows that if she really wanted to she could ring the bell and order you to keep her company, but that's not something Donna wants. She misses you staying by her side and spending time with her willingly. Why does it feel like you're trying to sever the already fragile bond you shared?

Donna nibbles on her lower lip, trying to make sense of what has happened so far. You're back, but she can clearly see you're not the same person you were three months ago, what with your hardened gaze and your stoic expression replacing the soft smiles and gentle eyes. Besides, you're still avoiding her and as far as she's concerned you owe her some really good explanations. Were you ever going to tell her about your special ability? 

And the blood! She had a lot of free time in her manor so she had gotten her hands on a few medicine study books to pass the time but she doesn't recall a single illness that would make you cough blood out of a sudden without having prior symptoms.

Also what was the deal with the flowers?

Wait… could it be?

Could it be possible that you were about to give her a small bouquet of her favorite flowers and declare your lov– ahem, fix things between you? But no, she didn't see it as something plausible. What could it be then?

"You're going to break it if you keep doing that." Donna is very used to unexpected sounds but she is so caught up in her thoughts that Angie's voice makes her slightly jump in her seat. 

Donna sighs. Her grip loosens.

"I'm not even sure if i should give it to her anymore…" She turns to face the doll, who takes a seat next to her. "Maybe I should just get rid of it."

The doll looks at her but doesn't speak for a few seconds, then her gaze drops to the little box. She remembers how Donna spent so much time carefully carving and refining details in the wood, putting the silver pieces together to create a beautiful pattern, the crest of House Beneviento adorning the lid.

"I think you should do it. Give it to her." Angie carefully takes the box from Donna's hands to take a closer look and run her finger over the House emblem. "And while you're at it… please apologize for me, i think she would appreciate it more hearing it from you."

Donna smiles behind her veil at Angie's sincerity (though it doesn't reach her eyes) and slowly starts eating. It might not be even close to the others meals but you made it for her and she appreciates it nonetheless. After her first bite she begins planning how to approach you.

You, on the other hand, don't notice the hours passing by, keeping yourself busy by cleaning even if everything is already spotless. You want to have an excuse if the Lady comes too close, an escape from the itching in your throat and the pulsing in your back. So far it seems to work, because you have successfully avoided your boss and haven't even heard of Angie since dinner. Until you hear your name being called from the library, that is.

It is when the sun is about to set that you make your way to your favorite room of all the house. The library has been your sanctuary more than once, always offering warmth against the cold weather, and comfy too since the Lady likes to keep fuzzy blankets and soft pillows on the couch. But now is a different story. Now your stomach churns with anxiety, and you fear what you can't control. You have a suspicion of what is about to happen, and it only makes you even more restless as your feet carry you against your will to that place that once was the perfect place to curl up on the couch (perhaps once with your Lady leaning against you while you read out loud for her and gently run your fingers up and down on her back as she sighs contently) but that now is only the shadow of it. Now it's just the place where your boss is calling you to probably confront you about what happened that time you disappeared.

"Lady Beneviento." You greet her bowing lightly. "Did you call for me?"

You thank the gods for not being able to see her face, otherwise you'd be bewitched by the way the light of the fire would outline her features and give her an ethereal hue. Good Lord, you're not even seeing her but can imagine her face as clear as water, just how much more will you torture yourself?

The Lady lowers the book she holds and acknowledges you. She will leave the questioning about your 'gift' for later. For now she'll focus on clearing the issue that has been bugging her since you returned.

"Why did you stop doing it?" She asks.

Confused, you look up to her and tilt your head.

"I'm afraid im not understanding the–"

"I believe I had given you permission to call me by my name, yet as of late you keep calling me by my title." The book is set on the couch and she stands. You still can't get over the fact that she towers at least a head in height over you, but you wouldn't have it any other way. "Why is that?" Her tone isn't quite demanding, but you do feel the pressure and the need of an answer.

You take a deep breath and gather your courage. You cannot lie to her even if you wanted to, but you don't have to tell her the whole truth either. Some of the fabric of your dress is clutched in your fists as you brace yourself for the possible outcome when you drop the news you came to deliver.

"I only want to keep our relationship as professional as possible." Alright, perhaps you can lie. "And i wish to tell you that I'll be resigning in two days from now on. I'm going back home." The lady's breath hitches almost imperceptibly. "For good this time…"

"But you just returned…" The Lady takes a step towards you. You take a step back. "Why now? All of a sudden, why?" Many thoughts run through the lady's mind. Keep things professional? Are you serious?! What about sharing the same bed on thunderous nights? What about all that effort you put on her meals? And don't let her get started on how once she nicked her finger while working on a new doll and you kissed it better! Does that look professional to you?

Did any of that mean anything to you at all…?

Unable to meet her eyes, you settle to inspect the embroidery of the carpet. 

"I've asked you a question. Answer me."

"I'm sorry, My Lady…" 

"That's not an answer." 

You sigh. Perhaps another lie is needed.

"I need to return to my old life. There's people that need me there."

Well, not quite a lie. Okay, truth to be told, you don't really care about returning to saving people as a superhero from the shadows, but you're running out of excuses.

Donna doesn't want to voice that nagging thought, but it's becoming difficult. 'It is me who needs you. I need you to stay.'

"I am grateful and honoured that you opened your home's doors for me, but i must return." 

"Very well." Donna doesn't let her emotions affect her for now, or so she tries. "Then i guess you won't mind if I ask you something else. How come a human like you can open a breach on my floor?"

You look like a deer caught in the headlights. You knew this was coming but you don't feel ready.

'I can't tell you about that either. Not now, at least."

An angry groan from the Lady caughts you by surprise and you look up to her in a blink.

"Why is it so difficult to get answers from you?!"

Her desperation gets the better of her and she pushes you against the wall with a strength you didn't know she possessed. You're pinned to the concrete, her arms each side of you effectively blocking your way out. The shock barely lets you react with anything else but a gasp. If the Lady wasn't wearing her veil you would have noticed her gaze shifting to your parted lips for a moment before going back to your eyes. 

You've never seen her like this, not even when you made mistakes before, like accidentally breaking one of her favorite mugs, but something tells you that it's thanks to the pent up frustration of not having answers. Her breath makes the fabric of her veil flutter as she speaks. Her voice is stern, dangerous, it's threatening and it reminds you of a simple fact that often and easily escapes your mind; there is a reason she's a Lord.

"Tell me what are you hiding."

"I can't…" And indeed you can't, how could you? How could you explain to her that you're so selfish and couldn't help but to be madly in love with her? How could she understand that she's the very one who makes your heart race like there's no tomorrow? How could she comprehend that you look at her as if she was the one who puts the stars on the sky every night? 

You turn away from her, unable to keep your eyes on her anymore. You fear that if you don't avoid her piercing gaze you might spill everything you're working so hard to keep under wraps.

Her hand grips your jaw, turning your face to look back at her, strong enough to keep you in place but careful as to not hurt you. She tries not to think about how close her thumb is to your lips and how much she craves to run her finger through the soft skin. She unconsciously presses herself against you (if you didn't have a way to get out of grasp before, you sure as hell are glued to the wall now), unaware that it makes something else burn on your lower belly, something you were avoiding to feel all this time; Lust…

"Maybe i didn't phrase that right." She angles your face so that she can stare dangerously into your eyes. "You will tell me what you're hiding."

The way her body grounds you in place is distracting, and you can feel every movement of her sternum thanks to her forceful breathing. You don't know it but she is also aware of all this, and she's trying her best not to claim your lips right there.

"Lady Benev–" a fit of coughing takes you violently, the strength in your knees disappearing as they give up, only the lady's arms keeping you from hitting the floor with too much force. 

Both of you get out of your trance as the damned flowers make their move on your throat.

"Please…" Her voice cracks and you can feel the stitches in your back straining trying to keep the cuts together.

You slump forward and Donna catches you in her arms, embracing you and trying to support your weight. Her eyes widen as she gets a clear sight of the fresh blood seeping through your shirt. Your coughing fit only seems to be getting worse and she doesn't know what to do. Her mind runs a mile per hour, were you going to escape through the gap and leave her behind again like last time? Would you be alright? And when the fuck will you tell her what is going on once and for all?

Soon your back is not the only thing bleeding as you start coughing flowers. Not only the petals, but the whole stem along with thorns that gash your throat raw. You want to scream but the plants won't let you. Your sight becomes blurry as the tears fall out.

Donna holds you close even after the pain makes you pass out…

"This will hurt a lot, gremlin, i won't lie." Is what Chips had told you before beginning with the procedure. Of course you wouldn't have expected a walk through the park, but the excruciating pain you felt had no comparison with any other one you experienced before, and that's saying something since you had received fairly painful hits in your line of work. Still, the thought of the lady's disappointment at your measly feelings was enough to force yourself to go through with the procedure. It would be a temporary fix until you decided what you wanted to do and went with the permanent thing.

Telling Lady Beneviento about your strange "condition" was not an option. It was downright manipulative the way you saw it, probably making her feel pity for you, or worse, making feel blackmailed with your death if she didn't reciprocate your affections and therefore forcing her to make a decision she didn't want to do. But was it really worth it dying to keep your secret safe? 

You wake up groggily, your head spinning as you manage to sit upright and leaning against the headboard. Gasping, you make a double take as you realize you're laying on a bed. But not any bed, of all the places you could have rested you are currently laying on the Lady's bed, wearing a fresh set of clothes that you have no idea where they came from. You gasp when you shift, feeling something pressing your back and after reaching back you're met with new bandages covering you. 

"When were you going to tell me?" 

You freeze when the one and only  Donna Beneviento speaks. Your neck hurts with how quick you turn to her. She's sitting on a chair next to the bed, her hands dutifully folded in her lap. Her veil is gone, and as soon as your gaze lands on hers you can't help but to look away in shame.

"I know what is going on. I wish you hadn't been so secretive about it." Her voice is dull, no other emotion on it other than total indifference. You can see an old book on the bedside table. Your eyes widen as you recognize the cover. The same book Chips showed you.

"Lady Beneviento i can explain it!" You try to turn toward her but the pain in your back refrains you.

"I think it's a little late for that."

"I–"

You're interrupted by a phone ringing in the distance. It must be important because she bolts right up and leaves you to yourself in the bedroom.

______________

Next part coming soon.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 129: Pangea

cw: mentions homophobic slurs

It was their day off.

Their one day when they didn't have to work and their five year old was at the muggle nursery school. They often cleaned and did laundry on days like these, but they always made a point of spending some quality time together. Harry had realized shortly after they'd adopted Cassie that it really hurt their relationship not to have time they set aside for just the two of them.

Today they were headed to get some ice cream and talking about the slumber party they were going to be hosting in a few days and all of the arrangements that had to be made when Harry's mobile started to ring.

Draco watched curiously as Harry pulled it out of his pocket, "Hello?"

"Yes, hi, is this Mr. Potter Malfoy?" a woman asked.

He glanced at Draco and put the phone on speaker, "Yes, this is Harry."

"Hi," the woman said again, "This is Linda in the school office. We're going to need you to come pick Cassie up."

"What? Why?" Draco asked before Harry could reply. "Is everything alright?"

"Sorry, I have you on speaker so my husband could hear you."

The woman chuckled and Draco looked ready to reach through the screen and strangle her. "Everything's fine. She just had a little disagreement with one of the other students and is pretty upset. The head mistress will have a chat with you when you get here."

"The head mistress!" Draco hissed.

Harry laid a hand on Draco's shoulder. "Thanks for calling us. We'll be right in." He hung up and braced himself for the inevitable.

(Read more below the cut)

"What happened?" Draco asked immediately.

He rolled his eyes and turned around to walk back to their house so they could drive to school, "You heard what I heard," he said. "I don't know any more than you."

"Yes but you went to Muggle primary school!" he protested, walking quicker. "You should have some idea-"

"I don't."

"Do you think it was accidental magic?" Draco asked.

He shook his head. "That was not the sound of a call about accidental magic."

"Then what do you think she was fight about?"

"Draco, there are a thousand things to fight about. Muggle children are just as unpredictable as wizarding children." He reached over and took Draco's hand, "She's only five, how much trouble could she be in?"

----------

When they arrived Cassie was over talking to a different adult and the headmistress waved them in.

She seemed happy enough so Harry let her be and followed the headmistress in, Draco all but vibrating with nervous energy behind him.

"Mr. and Mr. Potter-Malfoy, thank you for coming."

"Harry and Draco are fine," he said.

"What happened?" Draco asked quickly.

Harry glanced at him, "Sorry. We've just never been called in before. Is Cassie in trouble?"

"This afternoon, Cassie told a story to her classmates about how the continents got separated."

"Gaia," Draco nodded. "It's one of her favorites, she likes to hear about how life thrives no matter what."

Harry took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Right," Headmistress Blake replied, "and that's great. Storytelling improves communication skills and it's great for students to share like that."

"So why are we here?" Draco asked.

"Jacob told her that Gaia wasn't real, that the whole story was made up, and tried to tell her about Pangea."

"Pangea?" Harry asked incredulously. "How old is this kid?"

She chuckled, "His parents are geologists."

"Still!" Harry said, "That's pretty advanced for a five year old." Draco looked completely befuddled as though he had no idea what they were talking about. "But I still don't understand why we're here."

"I'm getting to it," she said. "She tried to tell him that it was just a story that her father told her."

Draco nodded, "Should we not tell her stories like that?" he asked, sounding panicked.

"Not at all," she said, giving him a warm smile in an obvious attempt to diffuse his anxiety. "But Jacob called you a liar and used a bit of derogatory language."

Harry's entire body froze, "Excuse me?" He'd been hoping that she'd be in Hogwarts by the time other kids were old enough to understand the implications of having two dads. It wasn't a big deal in the wizarding world, but it mattered in the muggle world still.

Headmistress Blake nodded, "She told him it wasn't nice to talk about people that way and insisted that Draco wasn't a liar. When Jacob doubled down on the slurs, she punched him."

"Good." Harry covered his mouth, "Sorry," he said quickly. "Sorry, it's just-"

"We have taught our daughter not to hit," Draco insisted, glaring at Harry. And while this was true, they had, it was only because Draco was already teaching her the words for jinxes that would be more effective. She was going to be a terror once she got her wand. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid that I don't understand what sorts of slurs you're referring to."

The headmistress rubbed her eyebrow uncomfortably, "He called you poofs and said that fags can't be trusted," she said and Draco's jaw dropped, his hand clenching Harry's so hard that Harry was afraid he'd need a healing spell cast when this was over. "Other students overheard and told Miss Murray after the fact."

"We taught her not to hit," he said, "But we've also taught her that it's important to stand up for what is right," Harry said. "It sounds like she tried to use her words first and then when that didn't work she used a different means available to her."

"But the next step should have been talking to her teacher, not punching another child."

Harry nodded, "I can understand why you'd-"

"Excuse me, Harry," his husband interrupted, "But I can't," Draco said bluntly. "And here's why; we are raising our daughter to be strong and independent because Salazar knows that women are not taken seriously in this world. Teaching her now that there is someone to help her when she is being verbally assaulted will not help her when she is grown."

"Mr. Potter-Malfoy, I understand what you're saying but-"

Draco shook his head, "With all due respect, there is no but. If her teacher didn't notice that another child was shouting bigoted slurs at her because she has two fathers then no one was coming to her rescue."

The headmistress squared her shoulders, "Cassie's being suspended for two weeks."

"What?" Draco spat.

"We cannot set a precedent that allows for violence to be the answer."

"And what is Jacob's punishment?" Draco demanded.

She blinked at him, "He's got a broken nose."

"Setting aside that his actions still deserve a punishment from a source of authority so he doesn't continue to grow into a bigoted prick, let's just say for the sake of argument," Draco said, voice sharp as nails, "that she'd gone over and told Miss Murray about what he'd said what would his punishment have been?"

"He would to apologize," she replied.

"What? Just said he was 'sorry'?" he asked incredulously. "That's it?"

She nodded, "Yes. He's only five."

He turned to look at Harry completely outraged, "This whole school can fuck off," Draco said, standing from his chair and pointing at Harry, "I told you this was a bad idea."

Harry winced, he had in fact said this was not a great plan, just not for this reason.

"We'll be taking our daughter home today and she will not be coming back," he said. "And we will be telling this story to anyone who will listen."

"Mr-" she started, looking taken aback, since Draco had always been the polite one of the two of them.

"Oh, don't even start with me," he growled. "I run a very successful design business and while I do not understand how most of the social media works, I have someone who I pay to do it and she and I have been friends for a long time. Get ready to lose any family that you have that has a conscience, you can become the place for all backwards bigots." He started toward the door and Harry stood up.

"We'll sue you for slander," she said.

He looked over at her, completely unimpressed, "It's only slander if it's not true."

"It'll be your word against ours," she replied.

A pale eyebrow rose, "Yes it will. Lucky for me that I've recorded this entire lovely exchange," he said, twirling a pen that the Weasleys sold at the joke shop that did just that. "Feel free to contact our solicitor about anything else."

And with that he swanned out of the office.

Harry stared at her for a long moment, "Maybe you should consider educating your parents and students." Then he followed Draco out.

Draco was already squatting next to Cassie, murmuring softly to her, "yes, well done, my darling," he said pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"He was really mean, papa," she murmured.

His husband nodded, "I know, love."

"Hey, bean," Harry said, ruffling Cassie's curls and bending over to kiss her temple. "Let's get out of here, yeah? Do you have all of your things?"

She held up her unicorn backpack and nodded.

Harry helped her get her backpack on and then they set off, each of them holding one of her hands.

Cassie chattered away about the rest of her day, not even mentioning her run in with Jacob again.

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

After they put Cassie to bed they came back downstairs and Harry collapsed onto Draco on the sofa, resting his head in his lap.

"Pansy says that story is spreading like wildfire."

"Really?" Harry asked.

Draco nodded.

"S'kinda sexy," he said.

Draco laughed, "Sorry?"

He shrugged a shoulder, "You getting all livid and protective. It was sexy."

His husband's fingers combed through his fringe, "I'll always fight for you, for her, and for us," he promised.

"I know," he replied. "You're a good man Draco Potter Malfoy."

"It's only going to get harder," Draco said.

"Maybe, but we'll look for a more inclusive nursery school-"

Draco shook his head, "I mean when she heads to Hogwarts."

"I don't think so. People don't care about a man marrying another man," he said.

"But they care about the savior marrying a death eater and then disappearing for almost a decade and a half." He sighed, "I just wanted her to start somewhere where my sins wouldn't burden her and here we ar-"

"Hey," Harry said, sitting up and stopping the words coming out of his mouth. "You are not a burden to her and our marriage isn't a sin that could ever burden her-"

"I didn't mean to imply that you-"

"Listen to me," Harry interrupted. "Draco, you are a good dad," he said as he cupped his cheeks in his palms. "You are a good husband and you are a good person. We are both lucky to have you."

"Harry," he murmured, eyes downcast.

"You are," he promised. "I love you and Cassie loves you. and we are so blessed to have you."

"I love you too," he said, "But this isn't the last bully-"

"I know," Harry assured. "And we'll always be here for her, yeah?

Draco took a deep breath before nodding. "Yes. You're right."

"Ooh," Harry replied, crawling over him and straddling his hips. "I love it when I get to be right."

His husband rolled his eyes, "Just kiss me already."

And of course Harry obliged him.

Life wasn't always easy or perfect but they always had each other and Cassie always had two dads who would go to the end of the earth for her.

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

Day 128: Snake | Day 130: Forfeit

[s4turns-r1ngs]

Hello Hello!!

I just wanted to say o love your Bench trio fics! They’re amazing!

I was also wondering if you could do The bench trio X Gn! Hybrid Reader! Where the reader is a Fox hybrid!

The reader likes to play tricks/pranks on people! Especially the Dream Team! And while setting up a prank, the bench trio sees them and asks why they’re doing! The reader tells them and Tommy and Tubbo ask if they can join! Dragging Ranboo into it!

After that they hang out a lot and pull pranks in people! The reader also stealing from The Dream Team and Techno sometimes!

A little thing you can add if you want is that the reader gifts a lot of gifts to their friends! Tommy keeps all the little gifts in a secret chest! Tubbo keeps them in a separate room on his house! And Ranboo writes the things you give him on his memory book and puts them in his ender chest so he never looses them!

ALSO!! The reader would sometimes kidnap Micheal to spend the entire day with him! Spoiling him to no end with Toys, clothes, food, etc! You dont have to add this tho!!

Take care! <33

DSMP - Sneaky

Summary: As a fox hybrid, it was only a matter of time before you pulled Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo into your plans. (Also bonus Michael content because Michael Is Beloved. <3)

Pronouns: they/them

Warnings: Swearing, General Chaos (its the bench trio, are you surprised), consensual kidnapping

-> [a/n] - oh my god??? thank you???? you're so nice?????? sldfjlskdjfsldjfslkfjl,, i hope this is good! also first part is in third person pov, because i need to get better at writing that lol. readers dialougue is blue :]

-> p!c!benchtrio (and michael too <3) + reader, the beginning has a little p!bbh + reader too :]

> divider that i can't add bc im not on mobile. sadge <

[y/n] smiled mischievously as they rounded the corner, making sure that the unsuspecting victim (which at the moment, is badboyhalo) couldn't see them. they wanted to make sure that their trick worked, so that they could possibly use it on someone else later. of course, they would apologize to bad, because they still value him as a friend, but even friends play pranks on each other every now and again.

their ears perked up as they heard talking from around the corner they just turned. peaking their head around, [y/n] was greeted with some of their closest friends: tommy, tubbo, and ranboo.

"oh, hey guys!" they greeted, with a small wave as they repositioned themself so that they could talk to their friends, and watch bad at the same time.

ranboo smiled. "hey [y/n]!"

tommy and tubbo ran up to them, a wide smile on the latter's face, while tommy just looks like he doesn't want to be here. (obviously he does, but he's tommy. it's not really surprising at this point.) either way, he mutters out a "hello" with a smile he seems to be repressing.

tubbo looks around the corner. "so what are you doing?"

"oh!" [y/n] exclaims, tail swishing ever so slightly faster. "oh! i'm just testing out a new...'trick'!"

ranboo raises an eyebrow in suspicion. "a...'trick'? what are you-"

the fox hybrid holds up a finger, moving their body so that they were hidden around the corner. "shhh. it's about to happen!"

the trio watches [y/n]'s eyes light up as the demon, once dry, is covered in water. they all hear him shout and see him look around, as if to try and catch the culprit. bad glances over at the corner just in time to see [y/n] duck behind it.

"[y/n]!"

"shit." they turn towards the three, and with another smile they stand properly. "sorry guys, gotta blast! nice seeing you, though!"

they hear tommy let out his signature laugh as they run, a nine and a half foot tall demon chasing after you.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

giving gifts! (hcs bc yes)

tubbo:

-> ngl you probably woke him up in the middle of the night bc you found something cool. or made something cool. either or.

-> he will take it regaurdless of whether or not he's tired as shit or wide awake. free stuff from fox friend? cool. give.

-> he probably has a shelf in his house with all your little gifts on it.

-> he may not say it immediately most of the time (bc you DID wake him up at like two in the morning) but he is greatfull for all of your gifts :]

tommy:

-> bro i hc that this fucker LOVES shiny shit

-> (i mean, so do i but that's besides the point)

-> n e ways

-> you give him a shiny rock? here. have a cool stick in return.

-> raccoons are crazy man. he (like you) has a collection of tiny little things too. sometimes you trade. bc that's friendship <3

-> it doesn't matter when, bc he will always be awake when you want to give him something. he will 9 times out of 10 give you soethibg in return

-> if you wear jewelry, then he probably gave it to you :]

ranboo:

-> for some reason, he's also always awake whenever you give him gifts.

-> and he, like tubbo, aslo has a set place to put all of your gifts

-> he even writes about it down in his memory book so he doesn't forget about it <3

-> ranboo thinks all the little rocks you find and decide to give him are vv cool.

-> you: hey ranboo!! look at this cool rock i found!!

-> ranboo: that is so very cool and/or poggers can i please have it

-> another shiny stuff lover <3

-> bc i hc that mr. boo's chaarcter wears earrings and stuff, he decides to take one of the cool rocks you gave him and turn it into one!

-> you point it out and he just smiles and says: ye i know :) i did it bc your cool :)

-> and then you just die from embaressment bc who wouldn't if that happened

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

bonus michael thing bc i actually really like that idea:

you lift yourself a little further on the roof and knock on the window, opening it not long after.

"michael!" you whisper-shout. "michael! are you there?"

a small little zombie piglin pops his face into your view.

"hey, buddy! come here!"

he waddles closer to the window, chicken plushie in hand. a little snort makes it out of his mouth when he stops.

placing your arms on the window sill, you begin speaking. "alright, so i have a plan. do you wanna go out for a bit?"

the piglin nods his head eagerly.

you smile. "alright cool. i just need you to climb out this window and then we'll go."

michael looks at you wearily, clutching his plush a little tighter.

"don't worry, mike. it'll be fine. i'll catch you if you fall." you tell him reassuringly.

your ears twitch, picking up some noise from downstairs.

he walks over slowly, still holding onto his plush. carefully, he climbs out the window. picking him up, you slide a note into the room, shut the window, and slide down the roof, landing on the ground without a problem.

you hear a door open from inside and begin walking away, michael squealing excitedly in your arms. it's not long before you hear someone open the window. with a smile, you turn around and wave.

"[y/n]! what the-"

tubbo cuts him off. "-fuck!"

"don't worry guys i'll make sure to bring him back!"

"oh thank god-"

"eventually!"

"[y/n]!"

you mock a salute. "see you later guys!"

and then you run off.

[moon-lixie]

"Were you this touch deprived?" The amusement could be easily missed in between the calm of your voice that threatened to melt under his fingertips.

"Yes," he answered immediately, no time for thinking needed, "when it comes to you I'm always touch deprived, I can never get enough of you."

word count: 1.970k

genre: fluff, Hyunjin x gn reader.

song: Wrong About Forever - Jeff Bernat

Every great waltz has its spins that make you feel like you're flying as the music pushes you further, Hyunjin wasn't a stranger to this concept, nor was he ignorant to the part in which the two people dancing move apart, stretching their arms as far apart as physically possible while their hands stay clasped together.

He, more than anybody, knew what it was to dance, to give yourself to music and get lost quicker than he could even realise.

What he wasn't familiar with were the matters of the heart, at that he had always been clumsy and hesitant, comparing love to a dance.

That's exactly why he could never understand when you walked away; his mind couldn't wrap itself around the concept of you leaving for good, in his heart there was always hope for a last dance.

Your face was carved into his memory, he could draw your every feature down on paper as easily as he could dance with his eyes closed.

Loving you wasn't a rational decision, it was an impulse, something he had grown to adore despite the difficulties it brought along.

The music filling the room suddenly faded, leaving behind the thrumming of his heart reverberating in his eardrums.

He had to admit there was always a bitter taste when that moment arrived, his body not being able to push any further and the music coming to an end.

If it was his decision then he would spend every second of his life doing the things that he loved, without the need of a break, without knowing what an ending meant.

But wishful thinking only ended up hurting his heart, bruising it carelessly as if he wasn't the type to hope on behalf of the entire world.

With a loud exhale he allowed himself to relax, shoulders loosening and eyes opening slowly, as if rushing through the process would be a mistake.

The first thing he saw was his reflection, the rolled sleeves of his shirt, hair clamped together on the front of his face because of his effort, lips parted and chasing an extra breath.

His surroundings were one of those places that gave comfort due to the long time it had been the background of his happiness, his passion for what he did had been sprawled all across the room.

Dragging his feet across the wooden floor, he scrambled to gather his things, barely remembering to grab his phone that had been discarded on the couch when he arrived if it hadn't been for the light buzzing sound coming from it.

The device loomed like a threat over his heart, having the ability to mend everything or put an end to one of those things he loved with an inimaginable fervor.

An unseen message had been sent in blue, waiting impatiently despite not being the first one sent between the both of you.

You had contacted him first; after two weeks of radio silence you had sent four words his way, typical of you.

'Can I call you?' It was unknown to him how long he had spent staring at the dark screen, forcing his eyes to trace the eleven characters that shaped your unorthodox way of asking for forgiveness.

Forgiveness for what? That he no longer knew, perhaps this time you had gotten scared of how ever so well you two worked together and that's why you had decided to walk away, or maybe there was a chance you had just gotten tired of him, again.

The game the both of you played didn't feel like the typical love he saw portrayed in movies but he couldn't find it in him to care, after all, dancing around you had never bothered him in the slightest.

With trembling fingers he had typed an answer, one word, three letters, a simple affirmation.

He tried to be quick, direct and concise; searching the deepest corners of his mind for the answer that could please you the most and immediately regretting the dry response.

But what had been done already wasn't something that should trouble his mind, even if it came to you, the person he craved to have by his side the most.

So, he had abandoned the mobile as soon as he stepped foot in the dance studio, leaving it screen against the couch in hopes that would soothe his anxious heart if only for long enough to enjoy his dancing.

Now that it buzzed with the call that could be the one he couldn't help but walk cautiously forward and take deep breaths before picking up.

"You're done with dance practice, right?" If he had ever wanted to get high on something, it was your voice, along with every single detail about you.

His lips curled into a satisfied smile. "Oh, so you do remember my number?"

A dry chuckle resonated on the line, forcing his mind to picture the scowl twisting the features of your beautiful face, portraying the guilt you never owned up to in front of him.

"Are you free?" Of course you would dodge his comment, but yet again, he couldn't bring himself to care, simply humming in affirmation.

"Okay, then see you in a bit."

Dumbfounded, an amused laugh found its way out of his lips. "Should I know what you mean by that?"

The harmless exasperation painted itself across your every word as you answered. "Do I really need to spell it out for you, Hwang?"

He was inexperienced when it came to love, very much so, but he was an expert when it came to you, always knowing what you meant, what you wanted, the things you needed.

Walking in the direction to your apartment he answered, "I'm afraid yes, I can't know what you mean if you don't explain it, now can I?"

You laughed annoyed, staying in silence for a moment; he couldn't have pushed things far enough yet, he could never, because you happened to love him just as much as he loved you.

"I miss you, okay? Happy now?"

"Very," he said, lips curling in a lovesick grin that shielded him even from the way you abruptly ended the call.

No matter how much you tried to walk away from him, suddenly cutting yourself from his life, you always came back, always stayed in the tiniest of details around him.

Perhaps that had been his mistake, to accept you even with that quirk of getting cold feet, because if only he had stopped it at once then it wouldn't have become a habit, a necessary routine.

But to love is to get tangled so awfully that you can't find your way out, only further falling into the mess of affection and longing.

The two of you just had your special way of working and tackling things, for instance, you hadn't talked to him for half a month and still your spare key remained under the pot of his favourite flower of yours.

Victory grin plastered on, he reached for the metal piece, opening the door of your apartment as if it were his very own home.

Alerted by his steps at the entrance you came to greet him, arms crossed over your chest as if to keep a final barrier between you and the man that owned your heart.

"I missed you too." Was the very first thing he said once he found your eyes staring right at his; it made you smile and he felt accomplished.

"Of course you did." His words melted you in an instant, making you move closer to him and take his hand in yours. "You always do."

And how could he not? How could he bring himself not to miss someone like you? Someone whose mere presence was intoxicating, seeping inside his muscles and veins, putting his being at ease.

Gently, he allowed the pads of his fingers to trace the outline of your nose, your lips, your chin, before leaning in towards you.

A firm hand against his chest stopped him on his track, causing a question to paint his face with confusion.

"You're all sweaty and you stink." You scrunched your nose adorably, as if actually bothered by his smell. "Go take a shower."

"But I want to kiss you first." A pout made his lips stand out, well aware that it sometimes worked wonders with convincing you.

"Nope, no kisses while you're all smelly." And just like that the both of you were back to normal, not caring to drag things for longer than they should with explanations or apologies that fell into deaf ears.

Against your petition he moved forward and embraced you in his arms, suddenly set on stone in making you squeal in complaint.

Moments later dragging you towards the bathroom despite the verbal refusal that didn't match with your eager steps trailing behind him.

Leaving his things forgotten on the entrance along with whatever fear he had harbored in his heart about this time being the time you would leave his side for good, he closed the bathroom door and kissed you.

Your lips felt unfairly soft against his, warm as a blanket that shielded people from every possible unfavorable outcome life could have prepared for them.

Sure hands moving to clasp on the hem of your shirt, slowly moving it upwards the further he got lost into the kiss.

Piece by piece he undressed the both of you until you were down to heart and soul, truths lying bare for eyes to pry and discover the biggest vulnerability in them.

Knowing the place as well enough as his own home, he turned around to set the water into the perfect temperature for the both of you, never cold.

Then he led you like you needed to be held, careful and attentive, eyes never leaving yours in a new attempt to learn every detail embedded in your pupils.

He turned you around, pressing your back against his chest and hugging you close until there was no space in between, his lips finding the way to your shoulder, pressing soft kisses meant to fix any remnants of doubt.

"Were you this touch deprived?" The amusement could be easily missed in between the calm of your voice that threatened to melt under his fingertips.

"Yes," he answered immediately, no time for thinking needed, "when it comes to you I'm always touch deprived, I can never get enough of you."

He couldn't be more honest even if he was asked to testify in court and make a pledge that allowed him to say nothing but the absolute truth, because he loved you with an intensity that sometimes could be mistaken as meek due to it's soft and innocent nature.

Hyunjin loved you the way someone loves something unobtainable, innocent and patiently, willing to wait entire lifetimes for stars to align and give him the pleasure of being in your presence.

Your hands moved to rest atop his where they were clasped together against your bare torso, thumbs escaping to rub soothing circles into your skin.

Trailing kisses up your neck he allowed himself to hope that every one of his touches reverberated with warmth all the way to your heart in the same fashion that yours did to him.

For you he would learn how to love properly, he would even understand to let go if that was what you truly wanted at some point in the future.

"I love you." The words felt like dripping honey as they slipped in between his lips for the very first time.

"I love you too," you answered, not even leaving time for him to panic at the sudden frankness with which his deepest sentiment had been revealed.

For a love like yours, he would always wait, always fight to make things better.

[bloodycassian]

** PT 2 Azriel x reader - enemies to acquaintances PT 2. ** - reader gets a backstory, they clear another enemy camp together and bond more. Azriel apologizes. 

Slight TW for violence/domestic abuse mention. Trying to keep reader as genderless as possible but sometimes I inherently switch to using woman POVs- asks still very open ;)

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

"It seems I owe you an apology." Rhys began, pacing at the end of the makeshift bed the healers had set up for you. Your stomach rolled with nerves. His tone was not genuine, and you could feel the tension rolling off him in waves. The healers buzzing nearby suddenly found different things to do.

 Azriel and Cassian stood at the edge of the canopy, the drizzle of rain making their armor shine. "Azriel informed me of your injury- I'm impressed with your bravery." He smiled, his dark eyes making him look like a snake. 

You glanced to the shadowmaster, who nodded the slightest amount. "Did you receive my message from him?" You asked, and when he had a genuine wide grin - showing almost too many teeth - it gave you chills.

"I did in fact. I wish the same to you." He said with that deadly calm. Cassian tried to hide his laugh, Azriel remained stonefaced. "Let's take this to the war tent. Whenever you are...suitable." he glanced to your wing, still stained with crusted dry blood. 

You felt your cheeks heat slightly, and nodded. He strode out from the healers canopy and into the rain without a look back. The generals followed him, Azriel glancing back to you only for a second. 

+

Once you had mustered the strength to get out of the cot, you thanked your healers. They insisted on giving you healing potions before you departed. And tried to get you to promise to come back for a check in daily. Mobility tests, stretches and strength building. You gave them loose affirmations and took the potions without putting up too much of a fight, given that the wing still ached slightly. Two days of rest had done a lot for the healing process, but it would take at least a week before it was fully healed. 

The short walk to the war tent was cold as the mist of rain poured down. Many of the soldiers were inside or drunkenly asleep in the mud. Sitting around and waiting was not an ideal situation with a thousand males ready to fight all around. 

You pushed open the tent, shaking out your jacket on the pelt rug. Earning a scowl from the high lord, seated at the head of the table again. "This one tells me you were a sight to see in the skirmish." He said, gesturing to the shadow master. 

You glanced to Azriel, his face was blank but his cheeks had gone a duskier shade of brown. "But maybe I took that the wrong way, and what he meant was that you were a disaster, considering someone managed to put a hole in to your wing." He laced his fingers together in front of him. You curled your lip at him, ready to tell him to get his ass out there and do it himself then. 

Before you could, Azriel turned to the high lord, opening his mouth to protest but he was quickly silenced by Rhysand's dagger like eyes. The shadowmaster pressed his full lips together tightly. Looked to his feet, as if in shame. It made your head thrum with adrenaline filled rage. Rhysand - the most powerful high lord in history - coudlnt get off his ass to take care of some second class Attors himself? Perfect. Just your luck. Being hired out like the hundreds of your kind before you, only it was worse because you weren’t even getting any gold from it.

"We now have a bigger force than originally planned coming directly at us." He said softly, a dark wind organizing enemy pawns on the table to show where they spread out. how they had your forces stuck against a wall of mountains.

 "Because you were brave enough to somehow miss the group of Attors flying away..." He glared those snake eyes at Azriel again, then Rhys let out a bitter laugh. He was upset, understandably so. You could admit that. But it wasn't your fault he decided not to believe you in the first place. 

You glanced to Azriel. His face was grave as his high lord tore into both of you with a tone of a disappointed parent. Like your parent. The thought of your father made your jaw clench, your teeth grind together as you fought to not begin screaming at Rhysand.

"The two of you will see to it that this is taken care of." He took a breath, gesturing to the pawns on the table. "There is a ravine to the west of here-" His dark gifts had the pawns lifting in the air. A fist of fear clenched your stomach. You had forgotten just HOW powerful he was.

"If you cut off the bridges their advancement will be paralyzed. We then may be able to regroup and massacre our way through this group here-" He pointed to the north, a smaller force lay there. Without the flanking force able to be a threat behind you it would work. Your strategist mind flushed out the plan.

 "I expect you both to fix this - as you both caused this issue. I want it done before dawn comes." The pawns he held in the air turned to dust on the table, making a neat pile before the dark lines that indicated the ravine. Hitting his point home, in a non subtle way you supposed. Arrogant cock of a high lord.

"It will work, Rhys." Cassian said softly. He glanced to Azriel. His eyes were pinned to your wing. Your stomach flipped, you glared at Rhys. Before you could call out his plans' faults - or how terribly he was treating you and your considerable 200 units in his army- you saw Cassian shaking his head slightly at you. He rested a hand on Rhys' shoulder. The gesture stood out. The cocky high lord had a sensitive side, perhaps. Your lip curled at the thought.

As if sensing your disgust with him, Rhysand's lip curled "Now get out." He said, voice low and gravely. Cassian gestured for you and Azriel to follow him out. Rhysand reminded you so much of your own father it made you want to spit. A territorial, abusive cock without enough dignity to spare your family name.

You took a deep breath of cold air, hoping to clear your mind. It did little to shake the tension in your shoulders, or the stiffness in your jaw. Making a mental checklist of the weapons you needed to bring, you noticed Azriel following you. Or seeming to.

The shadow singer stalked past your tent, going to the west where the bridges were. "What are you doing?" You asked, jogging to catch up with him. He was already fording through the tall shrubs and grasses by the time you caught up. 

"Taking care of it. I can fix it myself." He growled. You tried to keep up with him, but the jostling was upsetting your injury. 

You put a hand on his shoulder, "Wait, hey." He shrugged you off, scoffing to himself. "I should have gone alone in the first place. I dont understand why he had to send you." He muttered, stalking deeper into the forest. The rain didn't reach you here, under the darkening shadows and mist.

Rage erupted inside you at his words - and you called out the only thing you could think of that might stop him. If he wanted to fight he could damn well stop and have an actual fight with you. "I guess you are just like all the other Illyrians after all." Your blood rushed in your ears, seeming to dampen the sound of everything. The dull hiss of the rain hitting the trees above was barely audible. 

He stood rigid, wings flaring over his shoulders, growing larger with the shadows writing around them. "Do you even have a clue what real Illyrians would do to you right now if you were talking to them like this? What a normal male would do?" He was close. Too close for comfort. Too close to not be fighting or fucking. 

"Considering my father was a very real Illyrian, yes" He stuttered at that. You'd never seen him do such a thing. It would have been funny if that angry set of his features didnt come back. You were ready for more fighting, more yelling but his face went slack, and his eyes met yours finally. They were no longer the cold dark color like in the tent with Rhysand. They were a hazel that matches the warm colors of pine bark in summer. Your heart clenched at the sight of it.

"You're like the Peacemakers, then." He muttered, referencing the old tales of mighty warriors with mixed breeding. Unfortunately a lot of that breeding was not willing. It usually never was, and it had ruined two generations of Illyrian and Peregyn pairings. "Axios was always my favorite." He smiled at the memory. You bit your lip, remembering the true stories of each hero. Not the bastardized verisons peddled throughout the realm.

The offspring became ostracized and cast out of most communities. On Prythian and on the continent. The ones who survived long enough to become trainable though were given the name Peacemakers for a reason. Known for hired bloodletting, no questions asked. 

"I hope your end is not met like theirs." He seemed to shudder at the thought. All the anger boiled out of you at his concern. 

You felt the shame begin to creep up around you. You had sold your services to make ends meet at times. It always left you with a sickening feeling in your gut after. As if the Mother herself was disappointed. "You can help that not happen." You said softly, voice barely audible. If you weren't so deep into the forest you doubted even his shadows could have heard you. "I need.. I need to find my father." Your voice trembled, he approached you slowly. Like he was approaching a wild animal. 

"It might seem-" He began coaxing, holding a hand out to you. Just like he had the other night. A question, a temptation. 

"I know your pain, shadowsinger." You took his hand, letting him lead you to a fallen tree. The soft moss growing on it was a welcome seat after walking for so long following him into the woods. "He would beat my mother and would pluck her feathers." You were grateful for your mother every second she put into resisting his influence for you. For keeping him at bay until you grew enough to be sent to the Peregryn camps for training. She never revealed your cross breeding, only that you had your wings and could use them well. Only because she had taught you. 

Azriel was quiet for a long moment, his shadows moving slowly like waves around your ankles together. "I'm - sorry.. .about your mother. I didn't know." He whispered, pausing and cursing to himself. "I can help you find him. We can look, but we need to get through those enemy lines first. I need you to help me do that." He grasped your hand lightly, as if asking.

 "Lets slice some attor, I guess." You sniffed, the cold making your nose run. At least, you blamed it on that.

+

The camp was mostly asleep by the time you got there. Under the cover of nightfall you were able to silently end most of the Fae that lurked in the camp. With everything going so smoothly, your heart lurched at the sight of Azriel falling backwards, a calling horn in his hand. His siphons flared, and it shattered. But left his siphons dull. He winced as he rolled out of the winging range of a fellow Illyrian with a flail in one hand and a mace in the other.

"Traitorous bastard." Azriel grappled with the Illyrian commander, but they were evenly matched. They knew all the same moves, sparring and sword wise. You launched yourself through the scattered bodies lining the clearing, dodging over puddles of blood and forgotten weapons. The commander had Azriel in a hold that had his wings flipped outward, and the male took the opportunity. He pressed his boot against Az's back and pulled them backward, bending them father than was natural. You roared, not bothering to waste the time to draw your weapon. 

You barreled into him, Azriels hands still reaching backwards to claw at his hands. He toppled over a stack of bodies, yanking you down with him. You scrambled away from him, hands clambering for any weapon. By the time you turned back around to face him, Azriel had already put him on his knees before you. Bending the males wings back just as he had done to the shadow singer.

Your borrowed blade went through his throat, pinning him to the ground as he kneeled. He looked like a statue in the position.  

You spat on the body. "Dont touch wings, asshole." You muttered. Azriel stared at you, as if in shock. You picked up a better looking sword from the ground nearby, wiping it on the cloth inside of your armor sleeve. "What?" You asked. Azriel seemed stunned silent. He seemed shocked in place. After you were sure there were no rogues readying to flee or informants spying, You took a breath, returning to him where he still stood beside the body of the commander.

You pointed back at the winged body speared to the ground behind him. Smiling, you titled the pose. "A prayer to the mother." His eyes went somehow even wider. 

Then he broke out in laughter. You couldnt help but join him, the high of battle making you both delirious. You laughed at his laugh, the stupid face he made laughing back at you. Laughed at the half spoken words that were cut off by more breathless giggles. 

Your sides ached by the time you both sat around the enemy fire, enjoying their spoils of war from a nearby town. The roasted duck smelled particularly good. Azriel heated a pot of tea over the coals, throwing in fresh pine needles from a tree nearby. 

"You know-" He handed you your cup of tea. It was warm in your palm, but his hands were still somehow hotter than the boiling water. He blew on his cup, the steam not going much farther than what his shadows allowed. They seemed to almost play in it. "I am sorry about your mother. I understand why you regard some of us with such...distaste." He put the lid back on the pot and took it off the fire. He looked so natural doing...normal things. Not just posturing for his court and killing. 

You nodded in thanks, not needing too many words with him. "She fled the week after I was formally invited to train in the Peregryn ranks. He found her, and killed her for leaving him. My court holds no rules against such things. He hasn't suffered for it." Your voice shook at the end. "Yet, that is. This.." You gestured to the battlefield, the bodies behind you. "This is just along the way. Killing him will be my destiny. My retribution for my mother." You sipped your tea, letting the burn of it sink in. You hoped it would warm your insides.

"I miss my mother as well." He said, taking a gingerly sip of his tea. He stretched his wings, you could tell by the hesitant way he folded them back in that they pained him. You made a mental note to give him one of your healing potions when you returned to camp.

You sat in silence with him until that fire burned out, and only dull coals were left.

+

"I'm glad you both seemed to have fun. Is the camp clear?" Cassian hissed, following you to the war tent. You sipped your mead, nodding. "Yes, oh strategic one. The bridges are cut too, courtesy of yours truly." You winked at him, making him stop in his tracks. Azriel patted him on the shoulder without a word, then followed you into the tent where Rhys waited. Wrathful or not, you knew he had no rights to tell you off this time. 

Azriel's hazel eyes met your own as you entered the tent together.

[hauntedbythefanficsofmypast]

Spiderbug Siblings

Peter sighed to himself struggling not to pout as he sat through the meeting. He was continuously reminding himself that he was the one that begged his father to bring him along, but he didn't think it was going to be this boring. Usually he was more than happy to take over different things at SI to give his father a break, such as paper work and meetings his dad really-really didn't want to go to. However this meeting had sucked his soul out ten minutes in. He missed the glances he was getting from said father, who had noticed his son's complete and utter boredom. 

Tony struggled not to smirk as his son deflated. He had warned him that this meeting was the worst one he'd ever been to. Tony discreetly moved his hands under the table, flicking his right wrist causing a holographic keyboard to appear on his forearm. He quickly typed out a message before sending it to Peter.

Peter's wristwatch vibrated softly, alerting him to the message. He moved his left arm under the table before flicking it allowing the message to appear across his arm. 

'Kiddo, go ahead and stand up saying this in french. "Ladies, Gentlemen, I hate to cut this short but unfortunately I have another meeting to get to. My father however will be remaining behind, I sincerely hope our business deal goes through." Then go have some fun, I know you're dying inside right now so go.' 

Peter closed his eyes smiling softly before giving his father a barely noticeable nod, standing up and apologizing in French. He shook a few people's hands before giving them a bright smile and a nod to his dad, turning and leaving the room.

"Je me suis demandé quand il allait enfin s'ennuyer.(1)" One of the women said, turning to Tony with a teasing smile, causing him to burst into laughter. 

Peter was more than happy to strip out of the suit and into a pair of jeans, a t-shirt with a silly science meme, his black converse and a green hoodie. He had planned to go check out the young man that applied to MIT and the Stark Industries Internship Program after the meeting, however he thought now would be better than ever. Peter knew that after a quick talk with the Principal he'd be allowed to sit in on the class in the back unannounced to see Max Kanté in action. He ran a hand through his hair before checking his phone's battery life, satisfied that it was at seventy-eight percent. His Stark watch was at sixty-five percent as well, so he knew that he'd only have to charge them once he got back to Le Grand Paris. Pulling out the file on Max, he decided that walking to Lycée Françoise Dupont would be rather relaxing and give him the time to stretch his legs. Plus if his calculations were right, which they usually always were, he'd be there by lunch time. Giving him enough time to talk with the Principal and the man's teacher, then find a place to sit in the back. While leaving the luxury hotel he put on his Edith sunglasses watching as directions to the school popped up, then pulled his hood up, and placed his Stark buds in. He left giving little more than a glance to the paparazzi planted firm outside, he knew they'd be waiting to get pictures of his father or him, after all their pictures sold for big bucks. He fidgeted nervously with his sunglasses until he was finally out of the paparazzi's sight. Letting out a breath he took out his phone hitting play on his album filled with Ella Fitzgerald music. He relaxed listening to it allowing the glasses to guide him through Paris. 'I really need to convince dad to market these. After the failure that Google created people would be skeptical, but having the Stark logo on it would cause many to trust them.' Peter thought about it drawing up blueprints in his head as he walked not paying attention to the outside world. Definitely not noticing the car heading towards him as he crossed the street heading to the school, until his senses started screaming at him.

"Monsieur, soyez prudent!(2)" Marinette cried out as she ran towards Peter tackling him back onto the sidewalk, his hood dropping and his sunglasses flying off his face. The car honked loudly as it skidded to a stop. Both teens turned to it wide eyed and apologizing profusely, in near panic attack states which ended up with the driver worried for them. They waved him on both stating that they were fine and just in a little bit of shock as they sat side by side on the sidewalk.

"Thank you." Peter said after a few moments of them just taking deep breaths together. Marinette looked up at him, blue-grey eyes meeting toffee brown eyes, before she glanced away. She picked up his sunglasses holding them out to him with a tired smile.

"English, yes? You're quite far from home are you not Mister? After all your accent is clearly not British so I'm assuming the States, not the south though I'm thinking from the north maybe the east?" Peter blinked in surprise, finally taking in the young woman that had saved him. Marinette was side sitting leaning against the light pole next to her. Midnight black hair was pulled into a long fishtail braid that went past her waist, Peter knew that once out of the braid her hair would be even longer. Her clothes were designer, M.D. specifically, something that would cause his dad slight annoyance since the designer still hadn't gotten back to him. She wore a soft pink cold shoulder tunic sweater, with black jeans that were loose enough for full mobility but tight enough not to sag or get caught on anything. She had a black and pink backpack on and a small matching purse, both clearly made by M.D. as well. He smiled politely, taking his sunglasses back and carefully sliding them into his pocket. 

"Yes I'm from the States. New York to be specific but I've traveled all over. You speak English?" He asked before adjusting his position sitting criss-cross in front of her. Marinette laughed softly nodding.

"I have learned a few languages, French is obviously my first, English was my fourth and hardest to learn!" She exclaimed, rolling her eyes and throwing her arms up in exasperation. Peter laughed loudly nodding his head with a slight smirk.

"Ah yes, English is hard and weird. For instance read and lead rhyme, and read and lead rhyme. But read and lead don't rhyme, and neither do read and lead!" Peter said his smirk grew when Marinette groaned glaring at him before punching him softly in the arm. "Sorry, sorry I had to do it." Peter said rubbing his arm as they settled down. Marinette simply rolled her eyes shaking her head. "But seriously thank you, not many people would risk themselves to save another. You're amazing Miss." Marinette gave him a sad smile not meeting his eyes anymore.

"Well, I'm afraid not many people think that about me. Besides it was the right thing to do, I couldn't just let you get hit when I could do something." Suddenly her purse shifted slightly almost like something inside was moving to press closer to the girl. Peter just barely noticed it, but could tell the girl took note of it right away. She stood up brushing the dirt off her pants, and Peter followed her up. "I'm afraid I must go, we've already spent quite a bit of time sitting here and if I want something to eat before my next class I must go. Au revoir Monsieur." Marinette turned heading down the street to a cafe, Peter turned watching her go but not moving.

"Wait!" He called out quickly shocking himself and the girl as she turned around curiously. "What's your name?" He asked, blinking when a mischievous smile covered the girls face.

"My name is Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way, and I'll see you around." Peter's eyes widened and a burst of laughter left him causing the girls eyes to alight with mischief. "I'll see you around Monsieur." She said before continuing on, Peter watching her as she leaves. He resisted jumping when Karen talked to him over his Stark buds.

"That was a meme was it not? Searching the web for it, oh. I understand that, that was very funny, yes? After all I believe this is what one would call a 'crack' fic." Peter held back his laughter as he crossed the street continuing to the school. He really hoped he'd see the girl again, he knew his dad would love her. He himself already felt a connection to the girl that had saved his life. He walked into the school heading to the office. He greeted the office secretary explaining why he was there and asking to talk with the Principal Damocles and Mr. Kanté's teacher Ms. Bustier. The secretary was quick to let him in and summon Bustier to the office. Peter took the time to explain to Principal Damocles that he simply wished to sit in the back of the class and observe the young man. Damocles was quick to please Peter, and it didn't escape his notice causing his opinion of the Principal to drop. He was quick to introduce himself when Bustier arrived, but allowed Damocles to explain what was going on. Ms. Bustier quickly agreed before escorting Peter back to her class room, telling him all about her class. He barely paid attention however once he realized that she was attempting to take complete credit for her students accomplishments. That was until she mentioned her 'bad egg' at least in her opinion.

"I just don't know what happened, Marinette used to be such a good student. She was the class role model, and everyone would go to her when they needed help. Then out of nowhere she just started bullying this girl that joined my class! She told me the girl was faking everything no matter how much I told her that the girl's condition was no excuse to treat her like that. I kept trying to get her on the right path but couldn't. Now she just sits in the back of the class and no one will talk to her. I've even had to exclude her from class outings because she still won't leave the girl alone! Honestly I always told her that no one will get better if you don't give them chances. Lila won't become a better person if Marinette continues to target and try to expose her. I'm just glad that Adrien is on my side and agrees." Peter frowned, giving the teacher's back a dirty look as he took in what she said, piecing a few things together. 'So this student is a pathological liar, but they're covering for her with some lying condition. Marinette, who was the designated role model, caught on and tried to expose her. However, Bustier and Adrien don't agree so they allow her to be excluded. Wow, I really hope Mr. Kanté does not fall for the lies. I'd hate for his intelligence to go to waste. After all not everyone can create a highly-functional robot, that manages to develop emotions on its own. Falling for lies is something that would hurt him incredibly in the eyes of SI.' Peter smiled politely when the teacher turned to him once they arrived at the door.

"Would you like a seat at the front Mr. Stark?" Bustier asked as she opened the door walking in with him behind her, Peter shook his head as he took in the room. "We only have two seats open one in the front and one in the back." Bustier finished turning and watching Peter look around the room.

"No," he said, not missing as she tensed up slightly. "I need to be able to observe Mr. Kanté. If I sit in the front everyone will notice me turned to look at him. I'll take the back seat, where does he sit now?" Bustier glanced at the spot at the front where Chloe Bourgeois used to sit, and then the one in back by Marinette.

"Are you sure Mr. Stark? Unfortunately the one in the back is by my problem student and I'd rather you not get a bad impression of the class because of her." Peter gave her a tight smile as she rambled on about why it would be better for him to sit in the front. He let out a sigh as she continued on, and wished his father was with him. Knowing Tony wouldn't care about being rude to the women, where Peter himself couldn't pull the courage up.

"Yes Ms. Bustier I am positive. I will take the seat in the back, now please tell me where Mr. Kanté sits and then where my seat will be." Bustier sighed knowing that she wouldn't win this one, she had hoped she could convince him to sit there. That way he could see the entirety of the class and they would see him, the class would also know to behave themselves. They won't pay much attention to him when they walk in and he is sitting in the back. 

"Very well, Max sits on the left side, third row and closest to the window. Your seat will be on the right side, last row and next to the wall. Peter nodded before thanking her and walking up to his temporary seat, sitting down and pulling out his phone. "Lunch ends in twenty minutes so the classroom will slowly start filling up." He gave her a smile showing that he heard her before returning to his phone. He pulled up his group chat with Shuri, MJ, and Ned, knowing that it was almost seven am in New York, and that Shuri only slept when forced to. He smiled reading the argument between Ned and MJ.

Guy in the Chair- I don't want to eat at Veselka after school today! I want to eat at Lil' Frankie's!

MJ- I can almost hear you whining through my phone screen. Send me a picture of the face you're making, I want to add it to my sketch book.

Guy in the Chair- Seriously MJ?

Guy in the Chair-  I'm not sending you a picture of my face.

Princess Memes a lot- You Americans are so silly. Here MJ.

Image.pn

Guy in the Chair-...

Guy in the Chair- Seriously?

Guy in the Chair- Did you seriously hack my phone to send her a picture of me?

Princess Memes a lot- Hack is such a strong word, I simply introduced my computer to your phone's systems.

Guy in the Chair- I hate this. I can't do anything in retaliation, chemistry is what I'm good at not technology. I can't get revenge. Peter help me bro!

Peter-man- Sorry Ned, I'm not going up against Shuri. She is scary smart, and I'd rather live to see Captain America and his group of runaways finally realize all the changes we've made to the Accords.

Princess Memes a lot- Listen to my favorite colonizer Nedy-boy.

Peter-man- Awe, I'm your favorite colonizer? I thought for sure it would be my Dad.

Princess Memes a lot- Oh no, I do love you father. You and him are some of the only people that can give me a challenge. On top of that he got so excited when he discovered I was smarter than him, I thought for sure he'd want to adopt me.

Peter-man- Oh dad did, however you're a Princess and dad knows his money would get him nowhere in Wakanda. Instead he has settled for us being friends, that way he can subtly drop hints to invite you over for some science time.

Peter-man- I'll talk with you all later have a good day in classes MJ, Ned. And Shuri please get some sleep, I'd rather your brother not blame us for keeping you up again.

Guy in the Chair- Bye Peter!

MJ-middle finger emoji*

Princess Memes a lot- He can't force me to sleep if he can't find me!!

Peter- Love you too MJ and good luck with that Shuri.

Peter placed his phone down as people slowly made their way into the classroom. It was obvious to him that none even noticed him as they talked together excitedly. The volume of the class got louder until four people walked in, everyone was zeroing in on the girl hanging off the blonde's arm. Peter grimaced at her terrible hair style and decided that MJ would love to draw this girl, so he held up his phone taking a picture of her. He noticed a girl slip in behind them but his attention was stolen by the girl once again as she continued her story.

"Oh Alya! You would absolutely love New York city!! I'll have to see if Tony will allow you to come with me next time!" The girl said fairly loud her smile was bright but Peter could spot a fake smile from miles away. He'd learned that skill rather fast as he grew up, after all he needed to when his father was in one of his spirals. "Oh! I suppose I should let you know since I trust you so much! By Tony I mean Tony Stark!" She said giggling behind her hand as everyone gasped in surprise. "You see he is like a father to me! Him and his son Parker love me! We're like this!" She crossed her fingers winking at her classmates. Peter tensed fisting his hands trying to control his anger as he looked at Ms. Bustier who wouldn't not even turn around when the lie left her students lips. He watched as the students all sat down in their seats but they were all turned to the liar listening intensely. 

"Wow you're that close to Tony Stark? I just applied for his internship program a few weeks ago, I haven't heard anything yet though." Max said excitedly as he pulled out his things for class. Lila immediately zeroed in on him, her eyes gleaming.

"Oh Max! I'll send Parker a message right away and tell him all about you! You know he runs the Internship Program there! Tony asked me to but I told him I just couldn't leave Paris for good until after school! I also told him he really needs to give Parker a chance!" She glanced around worriedly before turning to Alya. "You can post this if you want, but you didn't hear it from me okay? You see guys Parker had a rough time these past couple years. He fell into the wrong group of people and started bullying, drinking, and doing drugs! It was terrible and Tony was just heartbroken! I could barely console him, he almost kicked Parker out! I convinced him to give Parker a second chance though, and he is getting better, unlike someone we know...but Tony still doesn't trust him fully, so I thought Parker would be able to prove himself if he did good with the program. Unfortunately he does struggle so I have to help him a lot, but Tony cannot know that! Their relationship is finally fixing!" Peter's anger grew even more and it took all his control not to stand up and fight the girl right there. That is when he noticed Marinette sitting besides him tense as well but glaring at the desk and not Lila. "Well hello there Ebony." He said softly startling her slightly, Marinette looked up at him in slight shock as he smiled mischievously at her. "I must say, you look very different from the Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way that I've read about." Marinette blushed embarrassed before she let out a soft giggle covering her face with her hands.

"Oh my gooood," she said, dragging out the word. "I said that thinking I would probably never see you again, and now you're sitting next to me. God I don't know if you're there, but please kill me." Peter snorted softly but both of their eyes were on Lila again as she began talking about Tony and his son 'Parker' once again. 

"Lying little squirrel." Peter mumbled glaring at the girl. "Parker Stark? Really did she even do her research? It's Peter Stark and the fact that Kanté is falling for her lies and trying to get in the easy way. This makes my decision easier." He opened the folder turning to Marinette holding out a hand. "May I borrow a pen Ms. Ebony." Marinette snorted, shaking her head and handing him a pen. He wrote denied across the paper and took a picture with his phone sending it to his dad before closing the folder and returning her pen.

"My name isn't Ebony obviously, I'm Marinette Dupain-Cheng." She said politely holding her hand out to shake, he shook it gently as she spoke again. "Are you a new student?" Peter chuckled smiling a little awkwardly as he shook his head.

"No I was here to observe Mr. Kanté in the classroom, ah let me introduce myself. Peter Stark, or from what the liar is calling me, Parker Stark." He rolled his eyes in exasperation, his smile still awkward. Marinette's eyes widened in slight shock as she started rambling to herself about how she tackled Tony Stark's son to the ground. Peter watched for a moment slightly amused at the woman's ramblings before squeezing her hand gently. "Listen, don't worry about it. If anything my dad would be thanking you profusely for saving me there. He wouldn't be upset, however once he hears about that little squirrel's lies. He will be more than pissed." Marinette snorted softly at his nickname for Lila; shel smirked, shaking her head. "Which by the way, can I get her full name? I want to have my lawyers here and ready with paperwork before I return to the states in five days." Her smirk grew as she pulled out a notebook and quickly wrote Lila's full name down before pausing and thinking a sadistic gleam in her eyes. Marinette turned to Peter tilting her head to the side innocently. "Tell me Parker Stark," she said using Lila's mess up causing him to laugh under his breath. "Do you happen to know Bruce Wayne or his kids?" Peter quirked an eyebrow before nodding and telling her that he was very close with Bruce's eldest son. "Well you see the little squirrel, as you call her has also lied about him and a few others." She turned back to the paper steadily making a list of all the people.

Tony and Peter Stark

The Wayne family

Lois Lane and Clark Kent

Jagged Stone

Clara Nightingale 

The Justice League

The Avengers

M.D. Clothing

The sadistic glint didn't leave her eyes as a plan formed in her head. "You see, I can get in contact with Jagged, Clara, and M.D. if you can get a hold of the others. We could sue her all at once for slander and defamation of character. If you do this I'll convince M.D. to finally take your dad on as clientele." Peter grinned at her and held out his hand, shaking hers once she grabbed his. 

"Well, my father would strangle me if I passed on an opportunity for him to finally get a M.D. suit and dress combo for him and mom. So you've got yourself a deal Miss Dupain-Cheng. If you can get Jagged, Clara, and M.D. on video chat, I can get the others. Do you think you could meet dad and me at Le Grand Paris tonight?" Marinette smirked a twinkle in her eye as Bustier called for the class's attention. Marinette rolled her, before turning to the front of the class.

"Since I am currently living at Le Grand Paris I can definitely meet you. Oh, Jagged and M.D. will be there in person. They live in Paris, Clara however is currently in Africa helping build houses, so we may be able to get her on a phone call but not video chat." Peter slumped in the chair and leaned over towards her slightly. "How about I give you a ride back then since we'll be going to the same place?" Marinette quirked an eyebrow before smiling and leaning against him getting comfortable in her seat.

"Very well Parker, I'll tell my driver I have a ride. Now don't move, you're quite comfortable." Peter snorted softly nodding before turning his eyes back on Max.

'It's a shame I was rather hopeful about him. I thought he'd be a great addition, if only he hadn't fallen for the squirrel.' He turned his gaze away and zeroed in on Bustier who was looking up at them. He could already tell that she wanted to reprimand Marinette for leaning against him. As she opened her mouth Peter sent her a sharp glare, staring her down until she looked away nervously. He sighed looking out the window in annoyance.

'Great, now I'm stuck here. At least I have Mari to keep me entertained judging by her eyes she is clearly zoned out. Something tells me she already knows what this sham of a teacher is going to be teaching today. She is smart, that is obvious, perhaps not as smart as Dad and me. Definitely not as smart as Shuri, but I'm pretty sure no one has her intelligence. She has connections too which is surprising at her age while being relatively unknown.' Peter wiggled slightly before settling down leaning against Marinette as well before closing his eyes.

Marinette waited until everyone had filed out of the class before waking Peter up. She gently shook him snorting as he looked around in confusion. His eyes finally landed on Marinette and a warm smile covered his face. She snorted again, as she packed up her stuff. 

"Maybe you should call up your driver that way we won't wait for long." Marinette said, pulling her backpack on as Peter sent out a quick message.

"Mr. Stark, before you go! I'd like to talk with you about what my student Lila said." Bustier said at the front of the classroom, flinching when Peter glared at her.

"Oh, you mean how she decided to lie about my father and me. Or maybe about how she didn't even know my name, but decided to tell everyone that I was a bullying, drunk, drug addict? Is that what you want to talk about? Or do you want to talk about how throughout her entire speech you said nothing knowing damn well that I was sitting in the back." Peter walked down the stairs, Marinette following behind him. When Bustier stepped in front of Peter stopping him from leaving Marinette grabbed his upper arm squeezing it gently. 

"Mr. Stark Lila has a condition that causes her to lie. The Principal and I decided not to inform the class because she'd never have friends if we did." Peter shook his head stepping to the side and walking around her Marinette following.

"That is no excuse Bustier. If that Alya woman posts anything that she said today. Well, lets just say it will not be pretty. Come on Marinette, as my dad says often, this person isn't worth our time." Marinette held back a laugh before nodding and walking out the door still holding his arm. She pulled out her phone with her left hand and typed out a few quick texts. Smiling gently when she got responses, she leaned her head on his shoulder before slipping her phone into her purse. Waiting until Tikki tugged it gently signaling that Marinette could safely release her phone. They stood together at the entrance to the school until a Mercedes Benz pulled up and the driver got out opening the door for them. Peter helped Marinette in before climbing in himself, he laughed grinning at her shocked face. She glared slightly before turning her attention back on to the tablets built into the driver and passenger seats.

"Did you buy them like this?" She asked curiously, slipping her backpack off and putting it down by her feet, buckling up afterwards. Peter shook his head, grin not leaving his face as he buckled up.

"Nope, Dad and I tore it apart and built it together. It's fun bonding time ya know." Marinette smiled sadly glancing out the window looking at the now closed bakery. Her thoughts drifted to before everything happened, when her parents were happy and in love, and still wanted her. Her gaze left the building as the driver pulled into traffic.

"I used to bake with my parents all the time. We ran a bakery, Maman would spend time cooking with me, and Papa and I always played video games together. Every night until, we played every night." Peter's eyes widened and he reached out taking her hand and squeezing it. Marinette blinked looking down at his hand before turning hers and squeezing his hand back. They just sat silently for a while enjoying being together with the other. Neither teen knew why they were inexplicably drawn to each other. In the span of a few hours they were closer than normal, and barely knew each other. This didn't scare either of them though, it felt so natural for them to seek slight comfort with the other. To just be able to sit together and feel like nothing could go wrong. Marinette leaned against him resting her head on his shoulder closing her eyes.

"What happened to your parents?" Peter asked after a while moving to rest his head on top of hers when she tensed up. "You don't have to talk about it? I've just found that it's better to get things off your chest and out instead of letting it linger." Marinette huffed a slight smile taking over her face before disappearing.

"My parents got a divorce two months ago. They had been acting for so long that they were still in love, but had grown to hate each other. In turn that meant they started to hate me, I reminded them too much of the other. So neither of them wanted me, my mother left Paris returning to China. My father decided to go to Italy to stay with his extended family. I was left behind, my honorary Uncle took me in till I turned seventeen." Marinette used her free hand to gently wipe her tears away. She squeezed his hand taking a deep breath. "They left me with nothing but 'good luck'. I stayed with my Godmother for a while but I couldn't sleep on the couch. Then my Uncle offered to stay in Paris with me until my seventeenth birthday. After that I'm technically on my own, I have some money saved up so I could get a small apartment, not in Paris though."  Peter brushed his thumb against her knuckles thinking to himself.

"So you're only sixteen? I'm seventeen." He said attempting to change the conversation, and from the giggle Marinette let out, she knew what he was trying to do. "What do you want to do when you graduate? I mean I'm just curious is all you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. Like most people like talking about it but I know some don't, but uh, I'm going to be working at SI. Oh and I am already taking college classes online from MIT!" Peter rambled on causing Marinette to laugh and his driver to cough in an attempt to hide his own chuckles.

"I want to go into fashion. I've always been in love with it, and want to have it in my future." Marinette smiled, patting his arm to calm him down. "I've even won a few design competitions, although thanks to Gabriel being unmasked as a supervillain my most distinguished one is gonna be crossed off." Peter raised an eyebrow before connecting the dots with Hawkmoth and the Agreste companies fall. 

"I have to ask this after sitting through that god awful class. Do you even like that school?" Marinette groaned, shaking her head slightly. "Because I did notice you zone out in the class." Marinette snorted before nodding.

"See I finished everything online and my plan was to graduate early. However Bustier and Damocles wouldn't allow it, they told me I need my parents signature not my temporary guardian's. So I am stuck there until the end of the year. Especially since I don't have parents, so no one can sign. Child Services won't let my uncle adopt me, apparently he isn't a good role model. Which is kind of funny since he took me in when my parents just abandoned me." She was silent for a while thinking about her situation and Peter did not like silence on the girl. 

"Is that how you know M.D. through design competitions?" Peter asked, causing Marinette to laugh softly, wondering how to tell him that she was M.D. "I mean I just noticed that your entire outfit, plus backpack and purse are both M.D. and obviously exclusives." Marinette shook her head as they pulled up outside the luxury hotel, both unbuckling and getting out when the driver opened the door. Marinette adjusted her back back walking up the steps.

"No actually, I've known M.D. my entire life. Now what's your hotel room? Jagged needs to know to meet us there, come on Parker don't leave me hanging." Peter glared playfully at Marinette before telling her their room number. She texted it to Jagged, nodding to the receptionist that greeted her, welcoming her back. "Mister Franco is always so nice, he has worked here for years now. To be honest I'm pretty sure he never takes a day off, he really loves his job." Peter nodded smiling at Franco, before stepping into the elevator with Marinette pressing the button to his floor. "Have you alerted the others to the video chat?" She asked looking up from her phone, meeting Peter's amused eyes. He nodded watching as she slipped her phone into her purse, he noted her pause before letting it drop completely. At first he chalked it up to her making sure the phone was actually in the purse, but then he remembered watching it move earlier in the afternoon. 'Is she keeping a pet in her purse?' He pondered silently as they stepped off the elevator onto his floor. He pulled out his card and opened the door, to be greeted with the amusing sight of his father and Jagged opposite ends of the couch. Tony had his feet pulled up and he stared down at the crocodile lazing on the floor in front of Jagged.

"Ah, Petey, Peter, my son, my first born, my rock when your mothers not around, please-please, explain why we are having a video conference with Bruce Wayne, our favorite reporters Lois and Clark, a Justice League representative, Carol as an Avengers representative, and Jagged Stone and his 'rock 'n roll' crocodile pet?" Tony said, not looking away from Fang for a second. Marinette snorted and walked in further dropping her bag on the floor by the couch, then kneeling down and starting to scratch Fang in his favorite places. Making him roll onto his back, tail waving like an excited puppy. Tony blinked, watching Marinette turn Fang into a cuddly puppy in seconds before turning to look at Peter with a raised eyebrow. "Alright, tell me what this is about." Peter rolled his eyes, slipping off his jacket and kicking his shoes off walking over to stand behind Marinette. Looking down at the crocodile in puzzlement.

"I can do you one better. Karen please play the audio from the class today, starting when Miss Rossi entered the classroom. Oh and Friday can you drag up as much dirt on Lila Rossi as possible." Both AI gave confirmation causing Peter to smile as he stepped around Marinette and Fang sitting down on the couch. He introduced himself to Jagged briefly before turning back to Marinette. "Think you can type up every little lie, while I get incontact with my lawyers." Marinette nodded, the gleam back in her eyes as she pulled her laptop out of her backpack. She waited till Fang rolled back onto his stomach before leaning against him and placing her laptop on her bent legs. The next couple minutes were filled with Tony raging over what the girl said. While Peter clung to his back in an attempt to stop him from suiting up and hunting the girl down. Jagged watched the scene amused sipping on a juice box he pulled from Marinette's bag. Fang was also greatly amused and wanted to join in with the two newcomers to his family but he knew his girl was busy, so moving wasn't an option for him. Marinette ignored them the entire time up until she finished. Then she starred, amused at Tony laying on his side, a grumpy pout on his face as Peter was still wrapped around him. 

"Calm now?" She asked, her lips quirking up into a smirk as he leveled a grumpy glare at her. "Because I told Clara to call at five and it's almost time." Tony continued to be grumpy for a while before letting out a loud sigh and nodding.

"Let's get this show on the road, pinky." Marinette sent him a dry look raising an eyebrow before looking at Peter who grinned.

"That's his way of saying he likes you!" Marinette snorted before pulling out her phone before glancing back at Jagged, her eyes narrowing.

"Jagged, is that my juice box?" She asked already knowing that he was drinking the juice box from her backpack. Jagged glanced down at the juice in his hand before grinning at her.

"Well you see, I was thirsty and our hosts were obviously having a moment, and I'll buy you two more twelve packs of the juice boxes." Marinette nodded before turning her gaze off him, giving Tony her signature sunshine smile.

"Hello Mr. Stark, I'm Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I am unfortunately part of Lila Rossi's class, though at this point I'm the only one that seems to see through lies." She held her laptop out to Peter, who took it with a smile plopping down on the couch. He scrolled through the long list, Marinette had composed. "I'll be the one helping compile all the lies, you may want to make sure everything on the Ladyblog is documented. It used to be a reliable source about Paris's heros, but the reporter, um, correction tabloid writer now fell for Lila's lies." Tony nodded before telling Friday to look into the Ladyblog. A few minutes later Marinette received Clara's call, the two talked together in French until Tony had video connection with Bruce, Lois, Clark, Wonder Woman, and Carol. Everyone wondered what was going on until Peter sent them all the list of lies. Marinette placed Clara on speaker before speaking up to everyone. "A few years ago when I was still in college-ah, middle school for you American's. A girl named Lila Rossi transferred to my school, she spread lies throughout the class about famous people. I was able to see through her lies because she decided to lie about Jagged Stone. " She gestured to Jagged who waved at everyone from his spot. "She claimed that she saved his cat from getting hit by a plane and developed tinnitus from it. She also stated that Jagged Stone wrote a song about her, at the time she was thirteen. Then she claimed to be best friends with Parisian superhero, Ladybug. The hero in question shot those claims down very fast, however the girl twisted it telling everyone Ladybug was only saying that to protect her. The creator of Bugout did not believe the girl, and that is why Ladybug heavily backs her. The list Parker here sent you is every lie she has told about you, Clara I texted you the list." Peter gave Marinette a playful dirty look as Clara took over the conversation.

"Oh my, all these lies I can't believe my eyes!" Everyone looked confused at Clara's rhyming.  "I can't believe her claims, all the people she is trying to deceive, and all the names." Clara gasped on her side causing many to wish they could see here. "Oh dear! She could have ruined your careers!" Marinette smiled softly when Clara said that. "She even mentioned your alternate ID, and this simply can't go unmentioned." Everyone looked at Marinette in slight confusion causing Marinette to give them an awkward smile.

"I'm sure all of you can see that she has mentioned that she knows M.D. the new famous designer who has kept out of the public eye. Well you all are lucky enough to meet M.D. before everyone else. It's a pleasure to meet you all, I am Marinette Dupain-Cheng and I run M.D. Clothing." Everyone stared at her in shock for a bit before the Stark lawyers joined the video chat. At the time they began making plans to take Lila down, and Marinette was at the center of the plans. "Tony and Peter leave in five days. His lawyers will be delivering her chargers, I want this to happen all at once." Everyone noted the determined glean in Marinette's eye, it reminded Tony of Pepper and he found himself about what his wife would think of this young woman. "If everyone has at least one of their lawyers to deliver them at the same time it will destroy her. That is why I suggest we do this during the school day, right before we are set to get out." Everyone agreed with doing it in front of the entire class. It was decided that Tony's lawyers wouldn't enter first, then Bruce's,  followed by the Justice League's and the Avenger's, Jagged and Clara's would enter soon after, and then Marinette's lawyer would hand Lila her final lawsuit. After the video chats Marinette gave Peter a big hug smiling brightly as Jagged picked up her backpack and Fang's leash. "Thank you for all the help Peter!" She let go before shaking Tony's hand, her smile not slipping. "As promised, get me yours and Mrs. Stark's measurements and I will make you a M.D. suit and dress combo. I think royal blue with ivory accents will suit you both. Peter has my number, so that you can get me the information." She walked to the door Jagged and Fang following her. "Goodnight you two!" Marinette said as they stepped outside. Peter and Tony stood at the door wishing them goodnight before closing it. Tony immediately turned to Peter once it was closed, wanting an explanation for everything. Peter sat down explaining what all had happened after he left the meeting. Tony listened intently while also thinking to himself about Marinette.

"So Max Kanté is rejected for the Internship program, damn. At least we caught this girl before more lies could be spread. I can't believe she dared to claim that I would give up on my own son." Peter nodded before picking the remote on and turning on Star Wars, he placed his legs across Tony’s lap and leaned again his side for comfort.

“Ya, she is pretty stupid. Did she think no one would ever hear her lives now she has multiple people coming down on her in less than 5 days.”

“Also that Marinette girl, think I can adopt her? Like joint custody? Pep would love her, seriously together they could rule the world.”

“Well with a little money you might be able to. Her parents gave up custody of her and the government refused to let Jagged adopt her.”

Tony looked at Peter silent for a moment before nodding to himself. 

“Friday-“

“Already drawing up adoption papers Boss. Pepper has been informed and she had this to say, ‘I give up, let him adopt the girl, I’ll have her registered for online schooling.’ Shall I bribe the person that receives the papers.”

“Yes but remember, I never said yes.”

That caused Peter to burst into laughter as he pulled out his phone, sending a text to his group chat.

Peter-man- New sister on the way guys. You’re gonna love her, dad just has to bride Child services.

Princess Memes a lot- Another science genius??

Peter-man- Nope, ever heard of M.D. Clothing?

Guy in the Chair- You’re joking.

MJ- Why am I not surprised by this.

Princess Memes a lot- You met M.D. and your Father is adopting her.

Princess Memes a lot- That’s it I’m taking a vacation to Paris, I’ll be there by tomorrow Peter. Ayo will be with me, and you will introduce the two of us to your new sister.

Peter-man- Understood Princess, although don’t mention the adoption to her just yet. I think I’m going to ease her into the family dynamic with us. 

Princess Memes a lot- Very well Ayo and I will not mention a thing. I will make sure we are both dressed discreetly as well. That way we don’t have to explain why the Princess of Wakanda is in Paris.

Peter chuckled resting his head on Tony’s shoulder curling into his dad's side. Tony smiled, his eyes never wavering from the tv screen as he rubbed his son’s leg gently.

Marinette let out a content sigh as she dried her hair with a towel. She sat on a plush chair in front of a grand dollhouse that was opened so all the rooms could be seen. The Kwami say inside all talking happily, making sure that Duusu and Nooroo were comfortable. Marinette smiled down at them wrapping his hair in her towel before leaning back and looking out the window. Tikki and Plagg flew up to her causing the young woman to laugh softly. She held her hand out allowing them to sit down. “In a few days Lila will be drowning in lawsuits. I really can’t find it in myself to feel bad for her.” Plagg snorted leaning back against her fingers, while Tikki gave him a disapproving look.

“Honestly kid, all you had to do was say the word and I would’ve taken care of the brat.”

“Plagg!” Tikki said, glaring at him, causing the other Kwami to laugh softly with Marinette.

“What?! I didn’t mean kill her! I meant that I’d cut her hair into something that doesn’t look awful! Always jumping to conclusions aren’t you Sugarcube.” Tikki swatted the back of his head causing the cat goddess to fly away laughing hysterically.

“Oh leave him be Tikki. He wouldn’t dare do anything in fear of repercussions from you.” Marinette said softly, bringing Tikki closer to her face. “A few days left Tikki, I am so excited.” Tikki smiled, rubbing her thumb gently as she looked up at her chosen human, her creation soul. Tikki felt her power rise a few days ago and now she knew why. Instead of having just one and a half creation souls around her, she had three. Marinette will always be the soul that resonates with her the most but Peter is a pure creation soul. Then Jagged and Tony combined made the third, it was their pasts that caused half their souls to be that of destruction. Yet it was the fact that they still held half a creation soul that got her, yes they had a reason to be bad, yet they wouldn’t allow it. She was happy that they still held that half tightly, the only for once a human’s, that was not meant to hold Plagg, soul becomes full destruction they become the worst of the worse. Which is why Tikki was happy Lila was going down, her soul was so close to destruction it sickened Tikki. She knew that once that little bit of creation left, there would only be a monster, because she was definitely not suited to be a cat. Tikki looked over at her other half with a gentle smile knowing that they’d find Plagg’s true destruction soul soon as well.

“Princess, why are we going to Paris?” Ayo asked as she followed Shuri onto the jet. The servants following with their bags, placing them onto the plane.

“Stark is adopting a young woman.” Shuri said trying on her phone. She looked up meeting Ayo’s eyes with a slight smirk. “The girl is the M.D. herself, I simply must meet her. According to Peter they only just met her and Tony is already adopting her. Peter also seems to have formed a connection with the woman. So I must meet her, and out of all the Dora Milaje you are able to be perfectly discrete. Anyone seeing us will believe you are simply my older sister, which is what I need. Miss Marinette does not know about the adoption yet and Peter wishes to edge her in. So I will simply be seen as Peter’s friend that decided to visit, and this will keep us out of the news.” Ayo nodded moving to sit down and relax knowing that they had an hour before reaching Paris.

“Very well, I shall enjoy meeting the new Stark child.” She said, causing Shuri to grin at her with a twinkle in her eyes. “I will not enjoy keeping you and Peter out of trouble however.” She finished teasingly causing Shuri to burst into laughter, Ayo only let a slight grin cover her face.

“Oh no oh no oh no.” Marinette muttered as she ran around her room getting ready. “I can’t believe I forgot this! Oh Miss Mendeleiev is going to be so upset! She went out of her way to have me come to her class’s party instead and I’m going to be late! Tikki, Plagg! Grab the pastries please!” The two Kwami lifted one try floating it over to the table by the door before taking the other over as well.

“My bug you must calm down. You have ten minutes before the party starts, yes, but Mendeleiev said to show up at any time.” Tikki flew up with Pollen the two gently fixing the French braid Marinette had begun putting her hair into. “There is no set time you need to be there so you are fine.” A knock on the door startled the human and Kwami slightly, Marinette ushered them into hiding spots before answering the door.

“Hello? Oh Peter! Do you need something?” Peter smiled brightly fidgeting with his sunglasses, he held up two bags filled with snacks.

“I was hoping we could hang out? Dad is in a really boring meeting and if I go it’ll suck my soul out.” He said dramatics causing Marinette to laugh.

“Normally I’d love to, but I have a class party today.” She gestured to the two large trays of pastries.

“Oh, that’s fine! I’ll just help you carry the trays then go find something to do.” Peter said, picking up one of the plates. “And before you say anything, shut up, I want to help.” Marinette glared at him before picking up her purse and folding her jacket over her arm. She picked up the other tray before checking her purse making sure Tikki and Plagg were in it. “Soooo,” Peter said, dragging out the word as he waited for Marinette to lock the door. “Where am I escorting you today fair Goddess?” Peter teased causing Marinette to quirk an eyebrow as they walked toward the elevator.

“Goddess? That's a new one. Care to explain?” She asked, stepping into the elevator pressing the button for the lobby. She reached over pulling his hood up gently with one hand before grabbing his sunglasses and slipping them onto his face. “There you go Mr.Famous.” She teased softly before fixing the strap of her purse. Peter smiled shifting the bag in his hand.

“Well my first thought was princess, but it just doesn’t suit you. Queen had popped in too but that didn’t feel right either. Trust me I know princesses and Queens, and they’d definitely love you but you have an air of difference compared to them. Something that makes you stand out something kind of magical-as silly as it sounds.” Marinette shifted slightly at the mention of magical glancing down at the purse that contained the most powerful beings in existence. Something that did not go unnoticed by Peter. “So when I settled on Goddess it just felt right, of course I tried other names but none compared to Goddess. So that is your new Stark patented nickname! Property of Stark & Co., nobody else can use it without express consent from Stark CEO, Head of R&D, and CEO in training!” Marinette snorted softly stepping out of the elevator Peter followed behind her as she began to giggle.

“Alright I suppose I shall let it slip this time! Besides it is definitely better than Princess, I hate that stupid nickname.” She turned to look at him, eyes twinkling slightly. “Now make sure to stay close, don’t want to have to save you from a car accident again.” Peter laughed rolling his eyes before calling out that it only happened once.  Causing Marinette to laugh again as they started the walk to Marinette’s school.

“Oh Marinette! You’re here!!” Aurore  called out as she, Mireille, and Jean hurried to meet both her and Peter as they entered the school courtyard. “And you brought a friend!” She said hugging Marinette once Jean took the tray from her. Marinette chuckled nervously hugging the girl back before hugging Mireille as well. “Pleasure to meet you I’m Aurore, that is Mireille, the man that took Marinette’s tray is Jean. Oh and of course you’ll meet the rest of our little family in a bit!” Peter smiled at the girl pushing his sunglasses up.

“I’m Peter, it’s nice to meet you. I am not staying though I was only helping Marinette carry the trays.” He said as Claude bounced over taking the tray from him and passing it off to his sister Allegra. He grabbed Peter’s shoulder directing him towards the rest of their class, smiling goofily. Marinette rolled her eyes smiling as Allan wrapped an arm around her shoulder following behind the two. He was telling her about his most recent audition calmly but excitement was clear in his voice.

“Nonsense! My new friend!!” Claude said smiling brightly leading him to the snack table. “If you’re a friend of Marinette’s then you are more than welcome to our party! I’m Claude Renou, the blonde that took the tray is my sister Allegra Dimont! You already saw Jean, Aurore, and Mireille. Kagami is over there teaching Ondine how to hold a saber, Kagami is wearing the red and black Cheongsam,” He paused turning to Marinette with a hopeful look. “Did I say it correctly?” He beamed when Marinette nodded before turning back to Peter. “And Ondine is the young woman who is completely out of her element on land!” He teased causing Ondine to glare at him playfully before waving politely to Peter. Over there controlling the music is Marc-pretty sure his mom, like runs France’s known yet unknown mafia but he won’t tell us.” Marc shot them a playful look before turning to and beginning to eat Marinette’s cookies. “And behind us is Allan Duval! Better known as Coté Spanghero, a rising actor! Then there is our teacher the wonderful and sometimes cruel Ms. Mendeleiev.” Anne-Claire Mendeleiev turned and stared down Claude who simply grinned at her. She sighed, shaking her head before looking over at Peter.

“Ignore him, of course you are more than welcome to join us. This is our little graduation party, these kids have been my students since middle school, except for Marinette unfortunately. Though I tried to get her multiple times.” She gave him a polite smile before patting his shoulder. “Oh and please call me Anne-Claire, all my students do when they remember they are almost out of school.” Marinette pulled away from Allan with a soft smile before linking arms with Peter. Peter grinned at her leaning closer to her.

“Looks like you don’t need to find something to do.” She said laughing with him. “Now come on, Jean knows some pretty cool magic tricks!” She pulled him over and they stood watching Jean perform different card tricks. They stood together, arms still locked while Peter watched Jean and Marinette talked with Allegra both women laughing together. Peter’s attention was stolen a few minutes later by his phone going off.

Princess Memes a lot- Stark where are you and your new sister?

Princess Memes a lot-Hello? Spiderboy?

Princess Memes a lot- Very well I have already found your location, Ayo and ai are on our way.

“Ah? Will Anne-Claire be upset if my friend and her older sister crash this party?” Anne-Claire raised an eyebrow as she took a sip from her cup looking over. 

“Depends Mister Stark, are the delinquents?” Peter was surprised that she knew him and even more surprised when he noticed none of her students were surprised.

“Ah, no not at all. Since you know who I am I’ll be honest. One is royalty and the other her bodyguard acting as sister.” Anne-Claire looked slightly excited at the prospect score nodding. 

“As long as they don’t cause trouble they’re welcome here.” Peter nodded smiling brightly before responding to Shuri that they were more than welcome to join. 

“My friend will be here soon, they may be a little stand off-ish at first.” Claude laughed, shaking his head, giving Kagami a teasing smile causing the woman to raise her eyebrow, faking an unimpressed look.

“Worry not Peter! We managed to break through Kagami’s Ice Queen persona!” Allan smirked rolling his eyes before handing his drink to Allegra. He stood behind Claude mining all of his actions. This caused them all to burst into laughter while Claude simply grinned looking at them. “Well besides that! Peter I have to ask, are you following in your Dad’s footsteps as head of R&D, or will you be taking up CEO. Oh perhaps I should start with my plans. I want to work in Public Relations, I actually have an internship with Wayne Enterprises. Cool right? Everyone here is going on to amazing things actually!” Peter smiled looking at them.”Why don’t we tell him? I’m sure Marinette has already told you her plans. We might as well tell him the rest!” Allegra shook her head smiling softly.

“I’ll tell him, obviously Allan is continuing his acting career, I am going to Harvard to study Law. Kagami is taking over her family business, Ondine is already an Olympic swimmer. Aurore and Mireille are continuing their weather girl careers, Marc is on his way to becoming a famous author and Jean is continuing his figure skating career.” Peter nodded looking at all of them., rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well I am actually already working at Stark Industries, I run the Internship program. Paid and Unpaid, I decide if you are given a chance in our company. I am however in training for both CEO and head of R&D, my parents told me that it is my choice. Although neither plan to retire for quite some time!” The class plus two continued to talk happily never noticing the girl glaring at them from Ms. Bustier’s classroom. Lila knew something was up, ever since she had laid eyes on the man sitting next to Marinette. It was something about him, something that made him stand out. She looked over at her sheep all of who were too engrossed with final plans for the last class trip. These were her sheep, the people that fell in line just to stop her crocodile tears. She sat high and powerful atop her kingdom and Marinette was in her rightful place, alone and ostracized. Something told her though, that the man out there with Mendeleiev’s class was going to ruin her. She sniffed looking away again giving her sheep a fake smile. She’d simply have to destroy him first.

“This is the place.” Shuri said looking up from her phone as Ayo and her walked through the school. “Peter said the teacher they were with is fine with us being here. Apparently they are having a party. Which sounds like a lot of fun!” They finally walked into the courtyard spotting Peter and the class before walking over when Peter waved excitedly. He introduced them to the class, smiling brightly when Marinette and Shuri hit it off right away.

Over the next couple days Marinette grew closer with Peter, Tony and Shuri. Marinette showed the three around Paris with the help of her friends in Mendeleviev’s class. Tony had even promised them visits to Stark tower the summer after their graduation. Of course it wasn’t known to Marinette that she’d soon be living there. In fact they still had to break it to her that Tony’s adoption request went through. It finally came out during a move night that Tony and Peter were holding with Marinette, Shuri, Ayo, her friends, and Jagged.

“Ya know, I’m going to miss you guys.” She said softly leaning against Peter’s side holding his right hand and carefully painting his nails a navy blue. Peter tensed slightly, sharing a look with Tony. Marinette noticed immediately when Peter tensed looking up at him sharply. “What?” She asked, turning to look at the father and son duo. Peter looked at Tony knowing that his father had to tell her.

“Ah, well you see Pinky, I decided that I didn’t want to lose you. So you’re mine now.” He said not looking her in the face, attempting to hide his nervousness.

“I’m yours now?”

“Yes. Our if you want to be specific and bring Pep into this considering she’s my wife, but mine either way.”

“You do know I’m not something to be owned, correct?”

“Well yes, but you’re still mine. End of story. You’re my daughter now, which means you’re Peter’s sister.”

“You know, I should be upset about this but  honestly I really didn’t want you guys to leave. I’ve grown attached and I think Uncle has too.”

Peter smiled brightly wrapping his arms around Marinette, careful not to mess up his nails.

“We just have one last thing to do.”

“Oh?”

“Change your last name to Stark.”

Tony said, smirking as he ruffled his now daughter’s hair. It wasn’t until after the movie finished that they announced the news to the rest of their group, and the celebration was anything but quiet. The night ended with a big sleepover in the Stark’s current living room and all went to bed knowing that tomorrow was the day they took Lila off her fake throne.

Lila smirked looking at herself in the mirror taking in her makeup. Nasty fake bruises covered her face and lower neck. She looked down at her clothes to make sure they were properly ripped. She nodded before heading out, stopping before she made it to the school before starting to cry. She rushed to the school bursting into Ms. Bustier’s class immediately having attention on her. She hid a smirk before spouting her sob story. Not knowing that Peter and his father were about to walk through that door with multiple lawyers Shuri and Ayo also tagging along. The moment Peter stepped through the door Kim charged at him fire in his eyes. Ayo was quick to move, taking Kim down flawlessly in seconds. “What do you think you’re doing! Get off my student!” Ms. Bustier said standing quickly but not moving towards Ayo and Kim.

“Shut it you banshee.”Ayo growled out standing up but keeping her foot in the middle of Kim’s back. “I shall act as guard for you all.” She said after Shuri gave her a subtle nod of permission. Tony and Peter’s lawyer Ryan was the first to step forward. 

“Thank you warrior.” He said nodding in respect to Ayo before turning to the class. “I am Ryan Wilson and I am Tony and PETER Stark’s lawyer. I am looking for one Lila Rossi.” Lila sat stock still not wanting to draw any attention to her. That failed when Ayla was quick to point her out.

“She is right here! You’re here to help her after that monster attacked her earlier aren’t you? Wow! Stark works fast! Oh can I record this for my blog?” Ryan galred at both girls before walking over and placing papers on the table.

“No, you may not! Lila Rossi you’ve been served! The Stark family is suing you for slander and defamation of character as well as claiming to others that you work with them. I suggest you find a lawyer and soon.” He turned away from them and walked to Bustier’s desk placing papers on her desk. “This is for allowing and even helping your student to lie.” He stepped back ignoring the class crying out in outrage. Lila just sat staring down at the paper in horror. The horror mounting as more and more papers were added to the pile until Marinette’s delicate and manicured hand placed her own papers down. She looked up at Marinette’s blank face, tears streaming down her face as anger slowly built.

“Lila I have let you get away with a lot, all because I was supposed to be the ‘better person’. Well I am done with that flawed idea, it’s time you learned that lies have consequences.” She turned heading back over to Peter smiling brightly until she saw Tony and Peter’s eyes widened as they moved forward. LIla let out a blood curdling scream launching herself at Marinette. Marinette turned quickly but Ayo was faster than both girls and slammed Lila into the ground. She calmly turned to look at Ryan not releasing her grip from Lila. “It may be smart to call for the police.” Officer Raincomprix walked in soon after sending the teacher a disappointed look as he pulled out handcuffs.

“We are already here. Lila Rossi evidence has been discovered proving that you willingly worked with Gabriel Agreste, also known as Hawkmoth. Anything you say can and will be held against you.” He cuffed her ignoring her screams and holding the young women still as she thrashed trying to get to Marinette. Tony wrapped an arm around her shoulder as Peter linked their arms together causing Marinette to smile.

“Ready to head home, daughter of mine?” Tony said with a smirk as Marinette leaned her head against his arm. 

“Ya know, I can’t wait to see my new home. Lets go.”

I wondered when he was finally going to be bored.

Sir, be careful! 

[jaykayblr]

And it went like ; Doyoung | One-shot

Pairing : Doyoung × Reader

Genre : fluff, strangers to friends to lovers au, college/university au, mutual pining, café is kinda main here.

Warnings : slapping, crying, teeny bit of angst, kissing. Don't worry it isn't anything extreme.

Summary : it all started with two cups of iced americano.

Word count : 2.7k

Taglist : @starrdustville @thechoppersan @cupidluvstarrz @ncvltrtchnlgy @jenoleemonade @bluejaem

Author's note : ahh, this is my first One-shot. Based loosely on request that @starrdustville sent in my previous blog. Leave a comment to let me know what you feel about this one. I have worked for this one for a week and I am kinda proud of my improvement but I feel I could have done better now that I have read it almost ten times, but lemme know what you all think!. I hope you all like it! If there are any mistakes, please let me know.

You glance up from the screen of the mobile to greet the orbs of the male who had entered the class. The brown eyes roamed through your face and then looked away, choosing a place in the class’s backward.

Mysterious brown eyes were the first thing you noticed about the new transfer student. He was aloof, remaining silent throughout the class. You could never find him chatting with anybody. He consistently preferred taking the last seat in the class. He was suave, with soft boyish qualities. You had been looking at him at whatever chance you received for the recent few days. It was challenging to not acknowledge him; the dude had silky soft hair through which he would run his hand occasionally throughout the class. The transfer student wore dark colors, which made him appear even more alluring than the rest of your class boys. He was lean and was taller than you.

Straightening yourself when the professor started the class, you forced your mobile away.

Focused, the educator went on about defining the antique architecture of Rome. It was an interesting subject - but you found yourself gawking at the new student. It looked as if he acknowledged your stare, because there was a slight smirk stretching on his cheeks when you continued gawking at him for two solid minutes. You glanced forward and tried paying regard to your lecturer.

Same routine, but different.

You are carrying two drinks of iced Americano in your hands. The route you picked was busy with the science graduates bustling out of their classes. You should’ve kept your eyes up to prevent what was about to happen. You soon knocked into a hard chest with your Americano staining the said man’s hoodie. Before you could lose your balance, a pair of sturdy hands holding your arms held you. You couldn’t speak. As you realized the situation, you backed away to bow towards the guy - to sputter an apology, until you hear that man’s voice.

“Calm down, woman,”

You couldn’t convey anything. You were so enthralled by the individual’s voice that you forgot your locations. His voice was deep and silvery. The phrase sounded unfamiliar to you, coming from him. His accent was mind-numbingly hot - even if you had heard only two words coming out of his mouth. You view up to examine the new guy from your class. His eyes have a playful glint at them, as he grins at your obvious staring. You quickly move backward and apologize to him.

“I am sorry. I am so sorry, oh god I am so sorry” you bow to him multiple times. You gain the attention of the surrounding science graduates who chuckle to themselves but keep moving. He catches you by your arms again and interrupts you from bowing to him again and again and instinctively makes your heart thump a thousand times faster than ever.

“It’s fine, I will clean it and it will be fine”

“At Least let me help you clean it, please?” you asked, and he nodded.

That was a year ago.

Currently, it’s the fourth year of your college and you and doyoung are two best buddies. In this one year, you both have turned into devoted friends who can’t live without each other. Sounds cheesy, yes, but that is exactly how it is.

[From doyoung; ]

WhErE ArE YoU?!

You chuckle seeing your mobile screen flash with his messages. Sitting in your economics lecture right now, learning something about marketing. You look around to see if anyone is looking at you. The half the students paying attention to the professor and the other half are sleeping or doing their own thing. You glance at your professor who was extremely focused on teaching the first benchers. You quickly type a reply.

[To doyoung; ]

In class! What do you want?

You hear the buzzing on your phone after a few minutes.

“Your boyfriend is texting you” your seatmate mutters beside you and you just chuckle - not at her but at the constant buzzing of your phone showing that your best friend is turning impatient.

[From doyoung; ]

Which one?

When will it end?

Ah, respond!

[To doyoung; ]

God! Doyoung!

Economics and in 15 minutes.

It wasn’t late until you heard three more buzzes from your phone. Your seatmate - somi wriggles her eyebrows at you.

[From doyoung; ]

So there is this new cafe near our college.

I want to go!

Please come with me?

[To doyoung; ]

Ok, fine.

Pick me up from the football court.

[From doyoung; ]

Yes, madam!

“You both are one weird pair” you flinch when you see somi snooping at your phone over your shoulders.

“Then stay away from us,” you say and put your phone inside your pocket.

“Just confess to him. His female admirers are increasing day by day. Only yesterday I saw Jasmine confessing to him.”

“Wait what?!” you almost shout, gaining the attention of the professor and a few students. The professor glares at you and goes back to teaching.

“Yes, and don’t worry, he rejected her” she rolls her eyes as you sigh in relief.

“But it will not always happen. Listen, if you don’t confess to him, he will eventually start dating someone else,” she says with a stern look, as if she is scolding you.

“I know, but can you please not scare me? I am just nervous! We have been friends for so-” somi cuts you off.

“You all have been friends for a year and you don’t Wanna ruin it and end this friendship by confessing, right?” she says and you nod while looking down. “Baby, if you don’t let him know your feelings, he will always think of you as a friend. Is that ok? He will eventually start dating some other girl. Is that ok with you? Are you ok with seeing him with another girl?”

You shake your head. She was right; has always been. Somi always told you to confess to doyoung, but you really didn’t want to ruin the relationship you had with doyoung. He was the most precious person in your life. And it has been like that for a year now.

Doyoung had shown no interest in any other girls - including you. So you never really thought about the possibility of him dating. But now as somi stated this possibility - it made your heartache. It made you experience a weird heaviness in your chest that you couldn’t exactly pinpoint.

Were you really ok with that? Are you ok with seeing him in the arms of another girl? Were you ok not taking up the chance to date him? Were you ok giving him up? Would he reject you? Or would he reciprocate your feelings? Are you really ok with taking up the risk?

These thoughts swirl your mind as the class gets dismissed.

You and somi get up and walk towards the exit when somi stops in front of you and looks you in the eye.

“Do it before it’s too late. Time doesn’t wait for anyone” and she leaves like that - provoking something in you.

Maybe it’s about time you do something about it.

Standing near the football court, you watch some guys from the foreign communications playing football. Their loud cheers surround the campus. You sit near the benchers thinking deeply about the risk of confessing to doyoung.

Somi’s words ring in your head. You feel a pang of jealousy in your chest when you imagine doyoung with another girl.

"Ha!" you flinch and look behind to see doyoung laughing like he won a trophy for scaring you.

"Ahh, you scared me!" he internally coos at the little pout you made without realising it.

"Lets go?"

The fragrance of vanilla hits your nostrils the moment you step inside the cafeteria. The little bell rang, alerting the barista of your arrival. A grey-haired barista looked towards both of you and grinned. You glanced around; the cafe was bustling with people. The chattering of young couples, friends, and teenagers filled in the shop.

Intertwining his hand with yours, Doyoung pulled you towards a corner seat. As you both settled, the same barista walked up towards you two.

“what can I serve this fascinating couple today?” she chirped in a very calm voice.

You were going to deny her assumption but doyoung cut you.

“so what are you having?” he inquired, propping himself on his forearms.

“um, I guess, caffe latte?”

“ah-ha! I was considering the same!” he looked towards the barista “two caffe latte please?”

“sure, anything else?” she asked, her eyes creasing at the sides as she beamed at you two. Returning the smile you looked towards Doyoung with a raised eyebrow as if asking him ‘do you need something more?’. he glanced at the menu card in front of him. “hmm, croissants?”

"coming up," she exclaims and goes back to her work.

"and oh, this time I’m offering to pay!" as soon as you announce that, doyoung’s expression changes to a frown, demonstrating his displeasure. Before he can say anything, you resonate "whenever we go out, you never let me pay! This time I’m paying and I don’t wish to hear any disagreements!"

"Y/nnnn" he whines and you shake your head at him.

Falling in comfortable silence, you both listen to the soft jazz playing on the radio of the cafeteria. After a few minutes, doyoung glances at you, hesitance apparent on his face.

“what happened?” you urge him. He just shakes his head and busies himself by looking at his nails. You want to question him further, but you see the same barista walking up to you with your orders.

Placing it on the table, she leaves while smiling at you both.

"I assume she likes us," doyoung whispers while slurping his latte.

"don’t change the topic, doyoung. what happened?" you urge him, with your voice stern.

“have you ever thought about dating y/n?” you freeze when he asks that. Luckily, he is looking downwards, so he can’t read your expressions cause he is good at that.

“mm, why?” you start feeling anxious when he doesn’t speak.

He sighs and shakes his head, mumbling a ‘nothing’. you grow more frustrated at that.

As you swirl your fingers around the brim of your cup. Your thoughts going insane, ‘does he love someone?’ ‘is he thinking of dating?’ ‘am I too late to confess?’ you feel your eyes brimming with nervous tears. You face away from him when he looks at you.

“Y/n, I wanted to ask you something?” you look at him in the eye, and wish that he won’t notice your wet eyes. He slowly takes your hands in his, his thumb gently brushing over your fingers. He looks down and takes a breath.

“I want you to keep quiet and let me finish, ok?” you nod at him, not speaking anything cause you know he will pick up your emotions from the tone of your voice. He sighs and moves closer to you.

“y/n, I have- I have, um, I realize we have only known each other for a year, but this one year has been the best year of my existence. I have never laughed so frequently in my life. I’m grateful for everything you have done for me and- and just- I am just grateful for this friendship. Listen, I hope this doesn’t sound too sudden. And I hope nothing changes in our relationship after this. But- I-” he halts and takes a deep breath. You instinctively hold his hand tight as you predict his next sentence. Your tears threaten to pour as you shut your eyes in order to hold them back. Your heart thuds in your ribcage and you pant. You glance at the ground to avoid breaking down in front of him as he tells you about his girlfriend. You hear him let out an unsteady sigh and-

“y/n I Love You!”

You couldn’t stop the tears that gushed out from your eyes. You sink back on the backrest and cover your face with your hands and cry your heart out. Your cries fill the cafe as everyone becomes silent and looks at you. You cry louder as you realize he likes you back, your best friend likes you back, doyoung loves you.

On the other hand, Doyoung panics when you cry, he loses his calm when you cry louder. His eyes swell with tears as he thinks that he fucked up royally to make you cry like this. He knew it was a terrible decision. He knew you didn’t like him back, but he still took the risk and ended up making you cry. You got emotional easily but never had you cried so loudly as you did now. He avoids the pointed stares of the people who scowl at him for making a girl cry like that and goes down on his knees towards your chair. He tries to hold your hand but you just tighten them on your face. His tears fall as he holds the armrest of your seat and turns you towards him. Gently but firmly he removes your hand from your face and his heart shatters when he looks at your tear filled face. He feels a pang of guilt in his heart. What was he expecting? you evidently didn’t love him back? He holds your hands and starts crying with you. The people around both of you watch this scene unfold, some looking annoyed and some watching with pity.

“I’m very sorry y/n,” he sniffs “I didn’t mean to make you cry,” his voice is heavy as he swallows hard. “I don’t know what I was thinking when I said that” he gulps again, “you clearly don’t love me-“ you cut him off as you slap him. His left cheek stings as his face falls. The people in the cafe gasp. doyoung looks down as the realization dawns over him. ‘he screwed up, he ruined everything’.

“stand up” your voice is small but commanding and he obeys. He looks down as he gets up.

“look at me” and he obeys but gasps when you kiss him hard on his lips. You are holding the collars of his black shirt with which you pull him closer towards you. A loud cheer fills the cafe and the people shout and scream while watching this dramatic scene unfold in front of their eyes. He comes back into reality and pulls you closer and kisses you back passionately, erupting an even louder cheer from the audience. You wrap your arms around his neck and his arms take their place on your waist. You both kiss as if you were waiting for this - which was also true.

You both pull away and break into laughter. The surrounding people are smiling, some are even taking videos. The couples peck each other, the old barista smiles widely and her eyes shine in adoration.

“so does this mean…”

“yes” you respond with a wide smile adorning your face. doyoung brings his hand to cup your cheek.

“from how long?”

“a year,” you say, making him smile. “what about you?”

“one year too”

“so I guess we both are idiots?” you ask, chuckling.

“hmm”

“you are late. But I will forgive you for that if you agree to be my boyfriend.” he chuckles at that.

“deal” he asks and pulls you closer.

You bring your palm to cup his left cheek. “does it hurt?” you ask, and he nods whispering ‘badly’ near your cheek. “I’m sorry,” you say and pull away to look in his eyes to show your honesty.

“It’s fine. You can make it up to me,” he says, pulling you closer again.

“how?” you ask.

“kiss me,” he says and you don’t waste a single second more to kiss him feverishly.

the cheers roar loudly, again.

love...

© Jaykayblr – Do not copy or translate my work.

[smugzayn]

I’m Sorry

You broke up with Harry four weeks ago, so why are you crying outside his front gates now? And why does he let you come in?

ONE.

It feels all numb at this point. You write the short text, press the blue arrow and watch the instant read notification appear below. There’s six unanswered blue bubbles of text, and they all say the same thing, “Call me. I’m sorry,” and they all are marked as read. 

“Leave Harry alone, babes.” Your friend plucks your phone from your fingers and plops it screen down on your lap. The Uber is small and with your shoulders pressed flesh against hers, you should’ve known she would’ve been peeking at your desperation. 

She pats your thigh consolingly and you lay your head on her shoulder. 

“He’ll call when he’s ready. Promise.” 

You sigh, forcing yourself not to flip over your phone to torture yourself once more with the blank screen. “It’s been four weeks.”

“You broke his heart,” she mutters.

She had never understood your decision to end it with Harry. She saw too much of the good - the sneaking away to dark corners, and flirty banter, and the way you both stared when the other one wasn’t looking. She was there the giddy morning after you had moved in, and the surprise birthday party he threw for your cat, and had walked in on one too many early afternoon bedroom sessions that resulted in tousled hair, flushed cheeks, and canceled plans. 

You and Harry were both private people, so your spats that turned into sleeping in different rooms were demons all to yourself. The empty bed on nights he promised to leave the studio early, and last-minute flights to wherever, and then the late to that family supper, or dinner party, and date night that started at just ten minutes turned into long texts of apologies, and empty promises, and the realisation that it wasn’t meant to be. 

“His heart never belonged to me,” there was a bitterness that you tried to erase from your voice. “It belongs to his music, and his fans, and his own - his own passions. And that’s fine because that’s what he wants, but it’s not…” You swallowed the last of what was left in your flask from the party. The burn down your throat helped distract from the ways your eyes were beginning to warm with tears. You cleared your throat. “It’s not what I want.”

TWO.

You were the further stop, so you rode the last bit of the Uber on your own. You’re not sure at what point you decided that you weren’t going home, but now you were standing at the front gates of Harry’s London home and pleading with Gerald, his security, to let you in. 

“Gerry, it’s me,” you beg earnestly into the intercom system as you stare into the camera. “Please, I just want to talk to Harry. That’s all.” 

“Sorry,” he responds gruffly, and you slouch down on the ground outside the gates. Four weeks ago you would have laughed if someone told you this is where you’d be. You weren’t happy then, but you were with Harry, at least. Four weeks ago you would’ve been cuddled up against his hard body in his warm bed and his arms would be wrapped tight around your stomach to pull you into him. You wouldn’t be sleeping, and you might even be crying because you knew it was over then. At least you were with Harry. 

You wipe away hot, angry tears that sting down your face. You can’t figure out if you’re more angry at him or yourself. Him for loving his career more than you and you for being too selfish to not let him. 

With a creak, that gates behind you slip open and you roll onto your back. Harry’s deep, sleep-filled voice comes over the intercom. 

“Come in. Hurry up,” he grumbles and you wipe away your tears, and clean up your hair, and the smudged makeup under your eyes as you walk the short path up his drive. 

He’s standing in the doorway, and it’s clear he’s just been woken up and he’s mad, or frustrated, or hurt. It’s hard to tell with him. Harry’s so expressive, so it always feels like you’re seeing every complex, nuanced emotion on his face. 

“Why did you come here?” he waits until you’re standing on the steps below him, his deep voice no more than a hard whisper in the air. 

You shrug your shoulders, examining the tightness in his eyes, and the hunched weight sagging his shoulders, and the defensive, wide stance of his feet. “I needed to see you. You wouldn’t answer my texts.” 

Harry swipes a tired hand over his face. 

“I’m calling you a cab -”

“No,” you protest, stepping towards him and putting a hand out to stop him as he reaches for his mobile. “Please. I just - I need to talk to you.” 

 The moment feels so big and scary that you feel ill. You don’t know what he wants to hear, or needs to hear, or what you even want from this moment. You can’t get back together with him because neither of you would be happy, so what exactly are you doing here? Do you tell him you're sorry? That you wish it was different? That you don’t want to - can’t be the one who makes him unhappy. 

“Fine,” Harry allows, slipping into the warm light of his home and you follow him. “But I’ve nothing to say.” 

You have a lot to say, you think, if you can just find the courage to say it. It bubbles in your stomach, and burns in a rush up your throat as Harry sits on his stairs and pulls his heavy, fiery eyes up towards you. As your mouth begins to water, you realise those aren’t words gushing up your throat at all. It’s something much worse. 

You grab a nearby vase, dump the flowers and water onto the floor in front of you, and promptly empty every drink you had that night. 

THREE.

You feel childish as you sit neglected on the sofa, wrapped up in a blanket, and with a crazy mess of morning hair atop your head. Harry’s rolled up the sleeves on his button-up and is glowering at his mobile from where he’s leaning against the counter in the kitchen. He’s angry and he’s not spoken a word since you woke up to find him standing there unhappily. 

Your head is aching, your tongue feels fat in your dry mouth, and you feel like a tit. You’ve fucked up. 

“I’m sorry,” you broach cautiously. “I’m not sure why I came here. I should’ve gone home, or to a friend’s, but...I didn’t. I’m so sorry, Harry-”

He cuts you off. “Did you think this would help?”

You feel a lump build in your throat. “What do you - I’m not sure what you mean.” 

His neck is red against his collar and there’s a tight furrow between his brows as he glares at you. “You call and I don’t answer. You text and I don’t respond. You show up and harass my security until I let you in.” He holds a hand up to stop you from interrupting. “You told me you wanted to be done. You broke up with me, and I’m trying…” 

Harry pauses, then coughs dryly and runs a hand through his hair. 

“And I’ve accepted that, but I can’t do that if you keep showing up - on my phone and now at my flat.”

“Can’t do what?” 

Something flashes behind his eyes then - pain or anger, you can’t really tell. 

His voice is hard and flat when he finally speaks. “I can’t get over you.” He turns to open the refrigerator, and then hands you a bottle of water. Your fingers don’t brush, he doesn’t look at you, and he returns to his distance across the room before he turns back towards you. 

You don’t know what to say. You could argue, but he’s heard all that you want to say. You don’t want to argue with him, anyways. You want to comfort him, thank him, and tell him your sorry it couldn't be different. 

“How can I make it up to you?” you ask and he pulls out his mobile as he shoots you a scowl. “No. Not for breaking up,” you amend quickly. “How can I make it up to you? For this?” You motion to the shirt you have on, Harry’s shirt, and the duvet, and the aspirin, the water, the tarnished vase put away somewhere, and the half-eaten peanut butter crackers sitting in the bowl on the table in front of you. A piece of you breaks as you think about Harry making those for you late at night, knowing how much you crave those after a night of drinking. 

He continues to busy himself in his mobile, though, and ignores you. It’s like he’s in another room, or house, or country, and not ten feet away from you on the other side of a counter. 

“I can clean your house, or make you a cake, buy you a new vase, perhaps?” you offer kiddingly, unsure of what to do or say. You think getting any reaction right now would be better than this, but then Harry speaks and it feels like a weight has fallen on your chest. 

“You can’t do this. I can’t do this,” Harry rubs at his jaw as he takes five strides to the front door and swings it open. “I can’t do this with you.”

You stand up, bunching the duvet onto the sofa behind you. “Harry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to -” 

“I know,” he interrupts, and your steps towards the door are slow and heavy. “I know. I’m trying to figure this out without you. Figuring out how to sleep, and work, and live without you. And I don’t know how to do it without you, but I can’t do it with you either. And definitely not like this.” 

“Harry, I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t know - I wouldn’t have ever -” You trail off, unsure of what to say, and unsure of what made you come here in the first place. “I’m just - I’m sorry.” 

Harry looks like he wants to pull you into him, he even leans forward slightly as if his body wants it, too. But his eyelids fall heavily, and the moment passes and you pass too, slipping out the front door. 

“I’ll go,” you promise, and you wonder if that means forever this time. 

Harry reaches out, his fingers trailing softly along your jaw, and your eyes flutter close with tenderness, familiarity, and need. Then his hand falls limply by his side and you turn away before you hear the light click of the door slipping shut.

[masterlist]