#imagine risking your head just to get some cash you don’t really care about anyway

[kuijoon]

i lied here’s another one

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

not allowed, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader; established relationship yoongi x reader

summary: The love of your life, BTS’s very own Min Yoongi, tells you he has a gift for you. But he also says you’re not allowed to refuse. What’s that supposed to mean, hm? Surely not... wild hot sex with the Golden Maknae himself?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship with Yoongi (takes place after his surgery); smut (fem reader, m-receiving oral, dirty talk, penetrative sex, doggy, spanking); idol!BTS; it’s self-indulgent and I’m a little ashamed but it’s too late now, whoops

--

Just... just looking through the Twitter tag couldn't hurt, right?

You scrolled through the pictures slowly. They performed really well these past two days. Received all the awards they deserved, because BTS were the best. Still, it depressed you seeing the empty space where Min Yoongi was supposed to be. 

But that was because Yoongi was beside you, propped up in the bed with pillows, scrolling on his phone with his right hand. Occasionally, he would lower it to use both hands, since his left arm was still in the sling. You two had watched the MMA and MAMA 2020 performances together. You knew he wanted to be there. You could hear it in his voice when he called in. 

Oh, that’s right, were you supposed to be in his apartment?

No. 

But you didn't care about rules and neither did Yoongi. 

Were you dating? Well, as much as dating could be when it came to a relationship with the most loved 'lil meow meow' in the whole world. 

Yoongi always gave you this look of disapproval when you called him that, but you would always just smile and say it again, slower. 

It was the kind of thing that simply fell into place and neither of you wanted to convolute it with too many other opinions or thoughts. What happened, happened. You weren't going to make yourself known or ask for impossible things. When he told you that he was getting surgery for his left shoulder and wouldn’t have schedules for a long while, you cashed in on all those sick hours you accumulated at work, stating you had to take care of a loved one. 

No one knew your loved one was Min Yoongi. And that's way you two liked it. 

Yoongi leaned over to the long straw of the water bottle tucked in the crook of your arm. 

"Staring at our maknae again?"

You stiffened. "I'm looking at all their pictures, Yoongi. Just happened to stop on Jungkook."

He took a short sip.

"Mmm-hmm."

A few seconds past. You stared at Jungkook’s intense dark eyes, his long hair flying about from dancing, his clenched jaw as he focused. Looking sinful in all white, tempting you to save the photos.

"You're not changing the screen."

"I'm admiring the stylists' hard work."

Yoongi hummed. "You're a bad liar."

You would have thrown your phone at him if it wasn't the special edition BTS S20+, complete with a Shooky phone case. You swiped past, seeing the image of Jungkook lifting Jimin in the Black Swan performance.

"I should tell him."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Sick of me?"

"No." He pointed to his left arm. "Can't take care of you either."

"I don't want to be the reason you need more months of physical therapy. I'm fine."

Yoongi placed his phone in his lap and placed his right arm around your shoulders. "We could risk it," he purred. 

You chuckled. "I don't think that's a good idea." You leaned your head against his shoulder. "I want to see you preform again."

"But you still want to bang Jungkookie."

A muscle in your eyebrow twitched. "I'm only looking at the pictures, Yoongi. You know you're the only one for me."

"You wouldn't try? Even if he begged you?"

You turned to Yoongi and his crafty smirk. "No." You stared at his lips and leaned in, kissing him lightly. You smiled against them. "I love you, Yoongi." Your smile turned into a smirk. "I worked too hard to sneak in here. Even outsmarted Dispatch. You can't get rid of me so easily."

Yoongi smiled back. He leaned against the headboard.

"What if I was okay with it?”

You blinked at him. "Why would you be okay with it?”

Yoongi shrugged. "You're mine, no matter what, no? Not even Jungkook's dick is going to change that."

"... Hah?"

Yoongi held up his hand, long fingers spread out. He ticked them down as he spoke. "Pros: my woman gets to satisfy her little crush, gets the fucking she wants, and will be happy."

You felt your ears burn. "Yoongi..."

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, wicked smile on his lips. "Cons... none."

You rolled your eyes. "You'd be pissed off."

He tilted his head. "What do I have to be pissed off for? Are you saying there's a reason I should be worried?"

You frowned. "No. Even if it did happen, which it won't, you will always be number one."

Yoongi nodded. "There you go."

You let out a puff of air. "I don't think Jungkook would agree anyway. And I wouldn't do it, because it's not the right thing to do."

"Who decided it's wrong?"

You made a face. "I don't know... society?"

"And we trust that societal rules are just and moral?"

"I mean, no..."

-

Washing your hair was always a pain in the ass.

You had to blow-dry it upside down, add five products at different stages, brush it super carefully with a special brush to avoid breakage, collect the fallen hair and throw it out, blah blah blah.

You shrugged on one of Yoongi's shirts after the shower – the black-and-white checkered one he wore during his VLive. Running your hand through your hair, you finally picked up your phone. Yoongi was at physical therapy, so he wouldn't be back for a while. You had some messages from him, probably before he had to put his phone away.

I sent you a gift. It will arrive today. You are not allowed to refuse.

You raised your eyebrows at that. 

P.S. Merry early Christmas. 

Was it jewelry? You pursed your lips. You always told Yoongi not to buy you things. Firstly, because you felt bad you could never reciprocate the amount he spent. You didn't make the money he made, after all. And secondly, you weren't that interested in owning expensive things. The only expensive items you loved were technology-based. Yoongi and you bonded over the newest Samsung products and always kept an eye on the latest tech. 

Maybe that was it? Maybe you had to collect a package. You mused, brushing your teeth. You were going to borrow Yoongi's pants, but you had to go hunt for some. After the teeth brushing. 

You spat and gargled some water.

The front door opened. 

You frowned. Was physical therapy canceled? Yoongi didn't have people come in and clean the apartment, because he didn't want anyone to find you. You weren't supposed to be here and no one knew you were here – except for his members, of course. But they didn't have the key, so it had to be Yoongi. You waited, in case there was someone outside. You didn't want them to hear your voice. The door closed and relocked.

You spat and rinsed out your mouth before turning off the light and going to the hallway.

"Yoongi, was physical therapy can–"

The head of long black hair lifted and turned around. He was in the middle of taking off his black sneakers. He pulled down his black face mask.

It was not Yoongi. 

"Hey, noona."

Abort.

You backed up. 

"J-J-Jungkook?"

The mischievous maknae grinned. 

"I'm the gift."

Your eyes widened. You whipped your phone to your face, nearly dropping it, juggling it for two seconds before slapping it between your palms and rereading Yoongi's messages. Rereading them way too many times because what? What, what, WHAT?

"D-don't you have p-practice?" Why were you stuttering? You never stuttered. But you never had that conversation with Yoongi until a couple days ago either. 

"I have some time, but I have to go back, yeah," Jungkook replied, far too cheerfully for how flustered you were. He was probably trying not to laugh at you. 

"How did you get in? And what do you mean, y-you're the...?"

You felt like your world was spinning. Did Jeon Jungkook just announce he was the gift? What? You're not allowed to refuse. Of course, you were going to refuse! This was Min Yoongi you were in love with! The cutest in the entire world! 

Jungkook brushed back part of his long hair and tucked it behind his ear, revealing half of his forehead and his silver hoops. Smirk on his pink lips, the mole underneath his lower lip winking at you. Skin tan and glowing in the hallway light.

...

Okay, yes, Jeon Jungkook was very handsome, but it didn't matter because–

"Hyung and I had a talk. He gave me the key," Jungkook said, dangling it. 

"Hahaha, why would be do that?" you laughed nervously, still crab-walking backwards because maybe if you just fused with the wall then you were be spared from those penetrating dark brown eyes.

Jungkook stepped into the apartment, following you. “I was surprised too.” He smiled somewhat apologetically. “I guess he overheard me telling Taehyung that I would totally fuck you if you weren’t hyung’s girlfriend.”

You blinked rapidly. “P-pardon?”

Jungkook held up his hands. Oh dear. His pretty, large hands that reminded you of Yoongi’s, but his right hand was tattooed. “But I wasn’t going to do anything though. Promise.” His eyes shifted upwards and then he looked back at you, his rueful expression turning into one of slyness. Shit. “Well, until Yoongi-hyung asked me to, that is.”

You stumbled in the doorframe of the bedroom. To be honest, you kept backing up because Jungkook advancing on you was making you uneasy, hot, and bothered. With emphasis on the latter two. You still couldn’t believe Yoongi would do this to you. This was Yoongi! Mild-mannered, sweetie with swagger, SUGA of BTS!

Then you had a thought.

You were always very good at teasing Yoongi. Either to annoy him or sexually in public situations. You could imagine Yoongi’s smirking face now. Knowing he got the one-up on you. Knowing he’d finally shocked you.

You’re not allowed to refuse.

The back of your knees hit the edge of the bed. A hot shiver went up your spine. Jungkook was right in front of you. Black parka, black jeans. Jungkook unzipped the parka, shrugging out of it. Black dress shirt. You knew Jungkook did not like wearing button-ups. Why was he wearing it? He unbuttoned the first one, revealing his collarbone. Then the second one. Open-mouthed smirk completed with his tongue between his teeth, dark eyes on your shaking form.

The maknae was going to fucking striptease you?

You held a hand up. “Hold on a second.”

Jungkook’s fingertips paused above the next button.

“You’re doing this… for fun?”

Jungkook tilted his head. “No. Not really for fun.” His voice was low, deep. His eyes trailed down your body, then back up to your face, lingering all over you. You swallowed. “I’m doing this because this is the only chance I’ll get.”

“What if I say no?”

Jungkook lowered his hand. “Hyung said you weren’t allowed to refuse.” His voice was softer now, almost pouting. Ouch. It actually pained you. You wanted to give in to him just like that. You loved Yoongi with all your heart, but the maknae’s charms definitely worked on you. They worked on everyone. Everyone loved Jungkook and wanted to give him everything.

“Jungkook,” you breathed, trying to reorient yourself, trying to find the right words. “I’m not saying I’m not interested. I definitely am.” He observed you carefully as you groped for the right words. “But this is a little crazy. And… you could get anyone.”

“I couldn’t get you.”

You slowly, slowly made eye contact with him. Jungkook took a step towards you. You didn’t move, transfixed by his chocolate eyes.

“The way you slowly fell in love with Yoongi-hyung,” he whispered, getting closer and closer. “You didn’t even notice. You still don’t notice. The way I stare at you, you and the beautiful shape of your eyes.” His finger came up and traced your eyes, rooting you in place. “Your cute nose. The shape of your lips.” His fingertip brushed against your lower lip. “So full. I watch you kiss him, wishing it was me.” He caressed your cheek. “The dimples that appear when you smile. So cruel.”

Jungkook’s breathing shallowed. His eyes flickered downwards to your hands, still clutching your phone. He reached for it and took it from you. Threw it onto the bed. Then his hands wrapped around yours, clutching them tight. You stopped breathing. Jungkook’s voice dropped several octaves.

“I watch your hands. Touching him, resting on his thigh, tracing up, palming him right in front of us.”

“I didn’t… think anyone would notice.”

Jungkook leaned in even more, still holding your hands tightly, as if they were going to disappear. You could smell his clean scent, like fresh laundry.

“I always notice,” he murmured. “Whenever you’re there, I can’t help but have my eyes on you. I couldn’t touch, but I could look. I thought that was all I could have.”

Jungkook let go of you. Hand dancing up your neck, cupping your cheek. Tilted his head, eyelashes lowering. Breath against your lips. Eyes pleading you, waiting for the heartbreak.

“Please let me kiss you.”

You’re not allowed to refuse.

You pressed your lips against Jungkook’s, eyes closing. It was impossible to say no. He was sweet and soft. You could feel his nerves and his fear in his kiss, not trying to ask for more, not wanting to ask for too much. It was you who hooked an arm around his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. Right, wrong? That didn’t matter right now. The only thing you cared about right now was taking Jungkook’s fear away.

You pulled him onto the bed, arms around his neck, mumbling his name against his lips. His breathing hitched, hands circling your waist, holding onto you.

“Noona…”

“Call me by name, Jungkook.”

He gulped, shaking his head. “I can’t.” He gnawed on his lip anxiously. You smiled, and took his hands, placing them by the buttons of his shirt.

“Weren’t you in the middle of giving me a show?” you teased. “You’re great at putting on a show.”

Jungkook’s lips curved into a smile. “Oh yeah?”

You settled down into the bed, looking up at him from in between his thighs. You could tell Jungkook was still nervous, but there was something else too. His mischief was creeping back into his sparkling eyes. You cocked an eyebrow, smirking. He undid another button. And another. Carefully, playfully pulling the fabric apart, revealing a little of his skin at a time.

“Hyung told me you like staring at my pictures.”

You shrugged, licking your lips. “They’re nice photos.”

“Were you satisfied by just looking at pictures?” he purred, already reaching lower, lower. You could see the contours of his muscular torso, the top of his abs. Ugh, Jungkook was so attractive. Scratch that, so fucking hot. He reached the bottom of his shirt and placed two fingers under your chin, pushing it back up to his face.

“My eyes are up here.”

His fingers under your chin made you realize how hard you were breathing.

“Jungkook.”

He tilted his head at you, long hair covering part of his face.

Yoongi’s words came back to you. My woman gets to satisfy her little crush. At the time, you thought those words were referring to your crush in Jungkook. But perhaps it was the other way around. Maybe Yoongi was referring to you satisfying Jungkook.

“Don’t hold back.”

And then you got up from the bed, grabbing the collar of his dress shirt and yanking them down Jungkook’s shoulders, kissing him again, but harder this time, tongue sliding into his mouth and thrusting into it, taking his breath away. Jungkook’s eyes went wide, gasping against your tongue, struggling to get out of his sleeves before he scrambled for the buttons on your shirt, moaning as you sucked on his tongue, gripping his upper arms.

“N-noona…”

“Call me by name or nothing at all,” you growled dangerously.

His dark eyes bored into you, daring you. You nipped at his lower lip, grinning.

“You think you’re the only one who’s horny here?”

Your hands danced around his arms, reaching around him, and your nails scratched him down his broad back, hissing as he moaned, tipping his head back, Adam’s apple shaking. Fuck, it felt so good. It felt so fucking good to drag your nails down that back, seeing Jungkook lose some control, falling more and more into the moment. You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around him, shuddering as his hard body was pressed against you and your half-open shirt.

“I want it all,” you breathed. “I’m so greedy, but I want it all, Jungkook. Give it to me.” Voice dropping, inhaling his delicious scent. “Please.”

He growled deep in his chest and grabbed the bottom of your shirt, yanking up and revealing your bra clasp, undoing it easily. Pushed you back, swiftly pulling your shirt and bra off together, tossing it aside to the floor.

“Fuck, your tits are as pretty as I thought they would be.”

And then Jungkook’s mouth was on you, furiously kissing down your neck, licking your collarbones, biting your shoulder, his hands roughly squeezing your breasts. You moaned, your nipples pressed against his thumbs, pinching them against the side of his hand. His lips travelled down, down and then they latched around your nipple, flicking it with his tongue. Your hands flew up into his hair, gripping it tightly.

“Fuck, they even taste good,” he whined. “You taste so fucking good.”

Your back arched as he began to suck, running your hands through his hair, whimpering his name, telling him how good he was, how nice it felt, lost in the feeling of his tongue and his strong arms around your waist. He switched to the other nipple, saliva dripping. Licking it all over and then breathing on it with his hot breath. Your entire body trembled in his arms from the sensation.

“I’m drooling; that’s how fucking good you taste,” Jungkook mumbled, sucking hard and tight, dark eyes on you as you cried out softly, holding onto his head. Your fingers curled into his long locks, grasping them tightly. He raised his eyebrow, but you began to rock back and forth into his mouth, tugging your nipple with his lips. Jungkook’s fingers dug into you, erotic groans vibrating in his throat as you fucked his face with your tits.

Wetness soaked your panties, the scent of your sex getting stronger and stronger.

Jungkook removed his lips, sucking in a tight breath. Your name slid out of his mouth in a tight hiss, no honorifics. You felt your pussy throb hearing your name come from his lips, saturated with desire. You grinned.

“Took you long enough, Jungkookie.”

He chuckled, grabbing your hips and shoving them up into his jean-covered crotch. You gasped. You could feel his erection straining against the thick fabric, grinding against your soaked panties. Fuck, you couldn’t stop staring at Jungkook, him and his sharp jawline and his beautiful eyes and his playful smirk on his damn lips, infuriating and arousing you.

“You’re so fucking irresistible,” you whispered, rolling your hips into him hard. It was his turn to gasp, his turn to shudder at your movements. The way you could turn him from smug confidence to those submissive doe eyes was turning you on way too much.

You wanted to ruin him and be ruined by him.

You grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him onto the bed. He yelped as you slid down, nails racking down his torso, whimpering in your wake. The front of his jeans was wet with your juices. You undid the button, zipping them down.

“How are you going to explain this?” you smirked, gesturing down to the giant wet sport at the front of his pants.

“They’re black,” Jungkook panted. “It’ll be fine.”

You laughed, pulling them down his legs. Jungkook’s hand flew down, reaching into his back pocket, pulling out a condom. You tilted your head.

“Only one?”

He looked down at you, startled. “W-well… I don’t know if you want more….”

You raised an eyebrow and reached over to the nightstand, opening it and taking out the whole damn box.

“Er… I cannot cum that many times. In one sitting, anyway.”

“Ah, well, let’s just see then.”

You peeled his jeans and boxer briefs off, licking your lips as your hungry eyes landed on his cock. Half-hard, pre-cum glistening at the tip. Jungkook swallowed nervously, but you crawled on top of him, immediately licking a fat stripe down his entire length. You moaned with him, feeling the blood rushing to his cock, pulsing against your lips. You hadn’t had sex in a while, trying not to tempt Yoongi or aggravate his injury. His recovery was too important to not only you, but the nation and the world. So, you kept your need to yourself, but now Jungkook’s cock was right on front of you.

And there was nothing to stop you.

You pressed your lips against his balls, licking them all over, playing with them with your tongue. Jungkook groaned above you, grabbing fistfuls of sheets as you began to suck on them, bobbing your head up and down. He was panting your name breathlessly, helpless as you pulled your head back, his balls slowly slipping out from between your lips.

You kissed up his length, tongue swirling around the head before taking him in, all the way, softly but firmly. If there was anything Yoongi’s tongue technology taught you, it was how to apply his technique to giving head, much to his surprise. You were good at extrapolation. You pressed the head into the roof of your mouth, raking it all the way to the upper part of your throat and tightening. Jungkook gasped, eyelids fluttering as your tongue assaulted the bottom of his cock, from the bottom of the head to the base.

You heard something between the lines of, “Holy fuck”, “What the hell”, and “Oh my fucking God.”

You retreated for a second, wrapped your tongue all the way around the head and teased the thin skin right where the head and length connected, repeatedly rubbing your lips over it before going all the way down again.

Now Jungkook was absolutely incomprehensible as you began to suck him off, fast and tight, lips soft compared to the vacuum of your mouth. Was it unfair? Yes, it was, giving him soft and hard, rough and wet, scraping the head against the back of your throat and choking it with your muscles. Jungkook was whimpering and cursing, his thighs flexing under you, tasting so fucking good that you were dripping between your own thighs.

You didn’t stop.

Faster and faster, holding his hips down, watching Jungkook unravel under you, hands in his long hair and slamming his head back into the pillows, covering his mouth as he screamed your name into his palm. You felt his cock spurt his cum into the back of your throat, your muscles constricting as you drank him up, your moans added vibration along his length.

The first orgasm was always the most and tasted the best. So much, coating the entire inside of your mouth, your tongue swiping around his cock to collect it all. You lapped it all up, encouraging his cock to get hard again. Smirking as you succeeded, popping your mouth off gently.

“What position do you want me in, Jungkook?” you murmured, throat a little hoarse, taking the condom and opening it, rolling it onto his cock.

He moved his palm from his mouth, panting hard, hair all over his face. His intense brown eyes locked with yours and you knew the dynamic was switched.

“On your back. Want to watch your face when I fuck you.”

You could relent, rolling onto your back, removing your soaked panties, chest heaving in anticipation as Jungkook got up, towering over you. His hands gripped your hips, adjusting you to the correct angle. You could play the other part, with one small caveat. His eyes found yours, glaring at you.

“Wipe that smirk off your face.”

“Make me.”

Jungkook thrust into you, hard, and you kept the smirk on your face as he forcefully stretched you out, pushing your limits.

“Hurts?” he taunted.

You licked your lips. “It’s not good unless it hurts.”

The slight irritation that flashed in his eyes spurred you on. You tightened around his cock, exhaling with a hiss. Fitting him to you, bringing out the dominance in him. Jungkook gritted his teeth and slammed his hips into yours. You had the audacity to chuckle.

“Did you really want me that bad, Jungkook?” you teased. “Or were they only pretty words? Are you a tiger or just a cute little bunny?”

Jungkook snarled low in his chest.

Then he began to fuck you, lifting your legs onto his shoulders and pressing down, smacking your ass with his hips. The position made you tighter, gravity making him pound you harder, forcing you to feel all of him as drove his rock-hard cock into you. Your hands flew up, one pressed against the headboard, the other clutching a pillow for dear life, eyes squeezing shut at the fullness and harshness.

“A-ah, fuck, yes,” you gasped. “So fucking good…”

Jungkook brought his face close to yours, hitting you deeper and just as hard. “Where’s your smirk now? Can’t give me one when you’re being punished by this cock?”

Your heart jerked in your chest at his dirty words, becoming even wetter with the dangerous edge to his voice.

“Listen to you, fucking dripping down my thighs with how wet you are for me,” Jungkook hissed, inhaling sharply as you throbbed hard around him. He groaned, clenching his jaw. “Fuck, I can’t help myself, I just have to fuck you like an animal.”

You snickered dryly, jerking your hips up to meet his. Not saying anything, letting your pussy do the talking because you were so close to orgasm that you roughly massaged his entire length, throwing your head back and moaning as you came around him. The squelching sounds between your connected hips got louder, drenching the air with the scent of sex and lust.

Jungkook sank his teeth into his lower lip, grimacing. “Fucking unfair how good you feel,” he ground out, squeezing his eyes shut, ramming his hips into you, muscles in his arms and shoulders tense. “Can’t even last, fuck.”

He crashed his hips into yours and growled your name in his throat, cock smacking against your walls as he came, swelling the condom full. You whimpered in ecstasy, back arching, clenching around his cock.

“Yes, Jungkook, oh, yeeees…”

It wasn’t enough.

Neither of you had had enough.

Jungkook gripped the end of the condom and pulled out, hissing at the sensitivity as he took it off. You tossed him a spare towel from the nightstand drawer and he cleaned himself, gasping.

“Hands and knees.”

You rolled over, flinging the box of condoms at him, and he caught it, dark eyes glinting.

“Spread that pussy for me.”

You reached back and planted your hands on each ass cheek pulling your wet slit open. Jungkook hissed and you could hear skin on skin of him jacking himself off to get hard again. An idea popped into your head.

You flexed your vaginal muscles, opening and closing your hole for him.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You’re so damn sexy it’s illegal.”

You heard him get onto his knees. The sound of a condom being ripped open. His groan as he fitted the condom over his aching cock. His strong hands gripped your hips, the head rubbing against your entrance.

“Don’t know how long I can last,” he murmured. “I’m just going to go as hard and as fast as I can.”

“Do it, Jungkook,” you panted. “Make me feel you for days.”

He whimpered at your words and sank into you. Both of you moaning, your hands clutching the sheets, his fingertips bruising your skin, imprints of lust. Jungkook was pure, glorious power that threatened to overtake you, his cock throbbing and digging into your walls as he fucked you hard, muscular thighs slapping into yours. The poor bed could barely take it, but neither of you noticed, lost in the feeling of being filled and doing the filling.

His hand came down on your ass, a sharp, harsh sound that echoed off the walls and made your pussy clench. It barely hurt. You had felt worse before.

“You like that?” he panted.

“Fuck yes I do,” you gasped hotly. “Spank my ass, Jungkook.”

He did, thrusting into you and slapping you repeatedly, making your ass jiggle. You squeezed him each time, now rolling your hips back into him, arching your back as you came with a satisfied sigh. Your skin stung, your pussy was pulsating with abuse, and Jungkook’s cock hit all your deepest spots.

“Fuck, Jungkook, you’re so fucking good at fucking me,” you breathed, feeling him wind you up again.

He couldn’t even reply, only loudly moaning through the convulsions of your pussy radiating up and down his length. Good thing the walls were pretty soundproof, because it was a goddamn porno in the bedroom at the moment. It was obscenely lewd with the wet slapping of his hips into yours.

“So close, so close, squeeze me, fuck, choke my damn dick,” Jungkook rambled in between breaths, hissing as you did as you were told, gripping him every time he slammed into you. He came with a half-scream, half-moan of your name, whining at the sensitivity as you pulsed around him, leaking down his thighs and yours. It smelled so strongly of sex that you weren’t sure how you were supposed to clean this up before Yoongi came home.

Your phone buzzed loudly on the bed.

You grunted, clawing for it as Jungkook remained inside you, softening but refusing to leave your warmth. He wrapped his arms around you, burying his face into your back.

You checked your messages. From Yoongi.

Your gift needs to get his ass to practice before he gets yelled at.

“Jungkook, you’re gonna be late.”

He groaned in annoyance, squeezing you tighter. Another message popped up.

Tell him there’s plenty of time before I fully recover. If he works hard and does a good job, maybe after I recover too.

You poked Jungkook. He lifted his head, pouting, eyes changing to excitement when he read the message.

-

part ii “You’re not allowed to leave until your noona is satisfied.”

--

masterpost

[leejeongz]

nsfw a-z JUNKYU (treasure)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

lots of cuddles and stroking your skin. he wants to make you feel calmer than you did even before the scene, calm enough to fall asleep. he can sense when you’re back to being your usual self but the softness doesn’t stop.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

he has two favourites on his own body and on you! on him, it’s his lips and his legs. his legs because well it’s junkyu he has fabulous legs duh. and his lips because he constantly notices you staring at them. he bites them on purpose when he sees you staring at them and knows that you want to kiss them 24/7

on you, he likes your hair and your fingers the most. he likes the way your fingers wrap around his dick and how you tease the tip with your index finger, sending him straight to heaven. and he likes to stroke your hair. he knows it sends shivers down your spine when you’re already turned on.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

he definitely looks forward to seeing you covered in his cum. even if you let him cum inside you, he doesn’t because he wants to see it actually on your body. he lovessss watching it trickle down your fingers before you suck it off them and also clean the remaining liquid off his dick too. he also sometimes has you take selfies on his phone after he’s finished all over your face for a later date.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

when you sit by him in your short dresses and skirts, he wants to do nothing more than to slowly inch his hand up your inner thigh and finger you, making you leave a damp patch on the seat, but he’s nervous that other people in the room might notice.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

2 different partners, one of which was a long time girlfriend, the other a one night stand. he can be romantic, he can be distant, he knows it all. he’s still a little shy with saying things out loud, but that doesn’t affect his skill and will happily discuss things via text.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

ride him and he’ll be your whiney little bitch. don’t get me wrong, he’s still in charge, but the noises and the faces he pulls have you fooled for a second. he doesn’t have a preference, reverse cowgirl and cowgirl are even, both get him to cum quicker than any other position.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he’s a silly guy, you think that’s gonna stop just because he’s got his dick out? he’s so loving, even if you are friends with benefits, he just wants to make you smile and to make you feel comfortable and safe, as well as making himself feel comfortable too. a tense atmosphere is only saved for those scenes where you are mad at each other.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

he’s always completely shaved. balls too :)

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he’s a huge romantic and is solely focused on you. even if he’s desperate, he’s still gonna make it loving and share lots of intimate moments with you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he takes his time when it comes to masturbation. he wants to set the scene in his mind as takes a lot to actually turn him on when you aren’t there. he usually gets off at his desk to those pics he’s taken of you or to just his imagination. he gets caught by his members a lot, but he somehow convinces them he’s just working on a song.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

he loves when you call him sir or master, especially when you look at him all innocently. it lets him know that you know your place and that he has you wrapped around his little finger. call him one of these in a sfw context and that’s when you know you’re in for a good time.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

studio or at his desk in his room. although it not ideal for his job, the best sex usually happens when you’re distracting him from something you can tell that he’s stressed with. giving him head while he’s working or while he’s gaming usually gets him really turned on and as much as he’s saying that you guys can’t do anything at the time, you definitely can and will.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

pictures of you! it’s not secret that he has a folder of pictures of you that he uses to get off to. your selfie’s alone really turn him on, especially the ones where you have your fingers in your mouth. but of course there’s plenty of nudes and little teasers in there too. and those pics of your face covered in him cum of course.

lingerie!! boy loves seeing you in the sexiest pieces and sets, so much so that he doesn’t mind splashing the cash and buying you some as a “just because” gift. he’s very gentle (most of the time) and does not rip them because they’re stunning on you! but sometimes he gets carried away and tugs on them a little too much while pulling you towards him.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

no food play. it’s too messy and too much of a hassle after a scene when he’s super tired.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

my mind always goes to junkyu getting head under his desk while he’s producing a song, tell me that wouldn't be hot. i can imagine him to be quite whiney but he just lets you do your thing without telling you how to suck it. running the underneath of your tongue over the tip is for sure something that he CRAVES. if he asks he gets, but he just wants you to do it anyway without even being asked.

his oral skills aren’t anything special, they’re good enough, but he gets you so worked up beforehand that the slightest touch will make you cum. he loves to press little kisses against your inner thighs before actually getting to eating you out.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

most times, he wants it slow. he wants to drag out every last moment and make the most of everything and so he keeps the pace slow. he doesn’t wanna tire you or himself out, knowing that you’ll both crave more after the first round. but sometimes he’s a little desperate, there’s nothing slow about it when he’s like this.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he’s not a fan at first, but you soon show him the wonders of quickies in a vacant room where you can get caught, and he’s craving them all the damn time. he becomes a quickie lover and sometimes all he needs is to be satisfied for a while.

honestly though, he wouldn’t choose them over somewhere comfortable like your bedroom and wonders why you’d rather do stuff quickly when you could just wait a few more hours and get ruined properly. if only he understood that sometimes, you just cannot wait, and that it’s all his fault.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he gets excited at just the mere thought of experiments and venturing into a new world with you. the potential danger of literally anything out of the ordinary happening is something that really gets him going. he’s down to try anything once if you are, but he gets a little shy about discussing them.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

usually 2 rounds with a small break in the middle for water and such. he can last around 15 minutes per round inside of you and he’s pretty proud of himself for that lmao, especially since he’s receiving head for like 20 mins lol

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he loves knowing that you use toys when he’s not around, it gets him horny to think about you holding a vibrator against your clit while you think about him. but i don’t think such toys would be welcome in the bedroom while he was there.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

angry/jealous sex, there is no teasing at all. he gets what he wants and that’s it, there’s nothing in it for you (or so he thinks). if you don’t cum that’s your problem because he’s given you ample opportunity.

normal, “everyday” sex, is full of teasing, especially when it comes to giving you oral/foreplay. there’s lots of kissing, lots of orgasm denial and LOTS of touches and kisses. pressing light kisses onto your clothed clit was his signature move, just one had you wanting to cum sometimes.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he’s whiney as FUCK okay. he’s very loud,you can definitely hear him, maybe even some other people too hehe. sometimes he sends you voice notes of him moaning when he knows you’re horny and alone. he’s not really into dirty talk because he doesn’t want to say anything that will ruin the mood.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

he runs his hand through his hair A LOT while you two are being intimate, especially when your lips are wrapped around his length. usually his hair gets sweaty and also, he wants to see you, so you catch him brushing it out of his face a lot.

he’s definitely a tits man. he loves to hold them, sleep on them, suck on them, whatever you/he wants. he holds them while he fucks you because he knows it hurts, it’s a win win. they aren’t always sexual to him either, they’re just another part of you that he can admire (but he’s too shy to compliment you on them and also thinks it would be kinda weird if he did lol)

he. kisses. you. constantly. the kisses are often broken by the thrusts but he doesn’t care and he actually thinks it makes the whole thing more romantic.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

just over average length with a litter under average thickness. i think he’s a show-er too.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

honestly, not that high. he goes through spells of not wanting any to wanting it twice a day, but on the whole, it's not extraordinarily high nor low

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he’s pretty tired, but he doesn’t want to fall asleep until you have or you’ve said it’s okay for him to sleep. he’s a little groggy so you usually make him go to sleep whenever, but it’s also really cute 🥺

[hyperpsychomaniac]

Scrooge's New Driver

DT17 Fanfiction

Summary: With Duckworth gone, Scrooge is struggling to find a replacement chauffeur who doesn't baulk at his driving orders. Until he unexpectantly runs across (and nearly over) the answer to his prayers. Oneshot.

***

It had been six months since Duckworth had passed, and Scrooge had been through as many drivers in that time. At least Duckworth had understood the meaning of urgency. At least he had been willing to take a little risk.

Scrooge glowered at his newest driver from the backseat of his town car. "Milligan, if you don't get me to my meeting on time, you're fired."

"But Mr McDuck, the road rules! And I'll have to speed…" Scrooge was pretty sure his voice cracked. How old was this lad anyway?

"So take a shortcut. Shorter route, less speed. It's not bloomin' rocket science… Here! Take a right here! Now, Milligan!" Scrooge tapped his cane on the divider. He was going to miss the turn!

Miraculously, Milligan reacted instantly and threw a hard right. The front tyre jumped the curbing, the back end slewed out, and then came back under control.

"See? That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

Milligan slammed on the brakes just as Scrooge saw the backpacker on the crosswalk ahead. The car jerked to a halt. Scrooge was reasonably sure he'd felt no impact, but the backpacker had disappeared, maybe dived to the ground. Not that that would stop him from trying to sue him. Great. Like he needed another lawsuit.

Milligan leapt out of the driver's seat and ran around the front of the car to help pick him up. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Oh, sorry. I was just crossing the street."

Scrooge wound down the window and stuck his head out. The backpacker seemed unharmed. His duffel bag had spilled out what looked like a bunch of VHS tapes. And, most importantly, he wasn't yelling abuse and threatening to sue. "Milligan he's fine, now get back in the…"

Milligan spun around, his paws bunched into fists at his sides. "No, Mr McDuck. I'm done!"

"You wha…"

"I QUIT"

Not again. "You can't quit now! I need to get to my money bin. Do you have any idea how much money I could lose if I don’t close this deal?"

"Better than losing my life! Or taking someone else's. I quit!" Milligan flung his chauffeur's cap back in through the open car door and stormed off.

Scrooge waved his cane out the window. "Damn it, Milligan. You'll never work in this town again." How was he supposed to… his gaze fell on the backpacker.

The lad was stuffing his VHS tapes back into his bag. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and it was probably a good thing the car hadn’t struck him. The impact would have done as much damage to the vehicle as it would've done to him.

"Hey, you. The man with a death wish."

He straightened as he slung his duffel over his shoulder. "Huh? Me?"

"Yes, you. Can you drive?"

His jaw hung open, and Scrooge could almost imagine the cogs slowly turning. "Er…" he finally said, "technically, or legally?"

"I'll give you a dollar if you can get me to my office in time for my meeting. I've got to be there in five minutes, and it takes nearly ten to get across town. You make that up, you make a dollar."

The lad's face brightened. "Sure." He jumped into the driver's seat and tossed his duffel bag into the passenger's side. Then he picked up Milligan's hat and crammed it over his ruffled red hair. "Er…"

"Well, hurry up!"

"Hang on, it's one of the ones with the stick."

"You can drive a manual, right?"

"Let's find out!" He slammed the car into first. The sound of metal on metal screeched from the gearbox, and the engine spluttered. "Wait, extra pedal…" And then they roared forward.

Scrooge hadn't heard his town car make that noise since Duckworth had died. "Well, finally, someone with the right attitude."

"So, where's your office?"

"You don't know who I am?"

"Pft, no. You haven't introduced yourself! And, come to think of it, neither have I. I'm Launchpad McQuack!"

"I don't care who you are. I'm Scrooge McDuck, my money bin is the largest building dominating the skyline, and if you don't get me there in five minutes, you won't be getting a dollar."

"Come on, I said I'd do it, didn't I?"

"Not in first gear, you won't."

Launchpad wrestled with the gears to more grating, and the engine stopped revving so high as they surged forward.

"That's a bit better. I hope you're not riding that clutch."

"So, Mr McDee, what do you do?"

"McDuck. I make money. Stop talking and…"

"Five minutes, I know. Gee, you realise you're cutting this a bit fine?"

"I was on time until some idiot jumped out in front of my car!”

"Wow, some people have no road sense. Hang on. We're going to need to take a shortcut." Launchpad wrenched them around a corner, jumped over a curb, and cut across a park. Park-goers ran every which way, but quite frankly, Scrooge thought most of them looked like they needed the exercise. Launchpad burst out through some bushes on the opposite side. The money bin loomed before them. They'd cut off a whole winding loop of road that wound its way around the city's nod to greenery, which Scrooge simply considered a waste of space.

"Huh. You've got initiative, lad."

Launchpad's face brightened. "You mean that, Mr McDee? Aw, thanks. That's… really nice."

"Eyes on the road!"

Launchpad reefed his head back around and brought them back in their lane, narrowly avoiding an oncoming truck. The town car bottomed out as they slammed down the road leading to the money bin, and then Launchpad pulled them to a stop outside its very front door.

"How'd I do? Do I get a dollar?"

Scrooge glanced at his watch. Two minutes to spare. Launchpad had potentially saved him a great deal of money, but he still felt a tinge in his gut that, yes, he did technically owe him that dollar as Launchpad had fulfilled the obligation of the bet." Er… wait for me here, alright? I still need to get back home. But, yes, you've earned your dollar."

Technically, Scrooge had changed the verbal contact on him, but Launchpad just grinned. "Sure thing, Mr McDee."

Scrooge rushed up to his meeting and hoped the miraculously crazy enough driver he'd picked up didn't figure out the town car he'd been left in charge of was worth far more than a dollar.

***

Two hours later, they screeched back to the front of McDuck Manor to the smell of burnt rubber. Launchpad hadn't nicked off with the car. And he'd still been in irritatingly good spirits when Scrooge returned. The drive to the manor had been almost as reckless, and Scrooge had considered telling him he was no longer under time constraints. But the pace was such a welcome change from his previous six drivers, and so Scrooge left him to it.

Seriously, those guys were supposed to be professionals. But, instead, they'd all been scared of their own shadow and had cared more about the road rules than doing what the man who paid their wage told them.

"Here we are, Mr McDee!" Launchpad exclaimed happily.

Scrooge winced. Still, it was better than his other drivers' whining. "I suppose you want your dollar now."

"Oh, yeah. I mean, if it's not too much trouble. To be honest, I am completed out of cash. I've only just got back into town from travelling, and, I… I thought I'd stay with… but it looks like they moved. I mean, I was away for a really long time so I guess I couldn’t really expect… Well, I need the money anyway. I need to pay for a room tonight."

Scrooge snorted. "In Duckburg? Lad, you are not going to get a room anyplace for a dollar."

Launchpad's face fell. "Oh…" Then he smiled. "Well, that's okay. Since I'm your driver now, you'll be playing me more dollars, right? Tonight, I'll just sleep in the car. If that's okay?"

"Sleep in my car?" Scrooge spluttered. "You can't… you realise this wasn't a permanent thing, right? I mean, you're not a professional driver, are you?"

Launchpad's shoulders slumped. "No. It's okay, I get it. I… I just thought I did a good job, and…"

Of course, he wasn't a professional driver. But every professional driver Scrooge had been sent had been useless. They certainly hadn't driven like Launchpad. He was the only one who'd got the job done.

"… and I know I'm not very good at these sort of things."

Launchpad's downcast look brought a faint tug to Scrooge's chest. "Lad, you did a great job," he found himself saying, and he wasn't sure why because he certainly didn't care about some backpacker off the street who probably expected to sleep on someone's sofa for free. But the lad had just helped him get a tonne of money to add to his money bin.

Launchpad chewed his lip. "Really?"

"I tell you what. Take my car back down to my garage. I'll show you where it is. You can stay there for the night. And, it'll only cost you a dollar. After that, I'll draw up a contract and…"

***

"You hired a homeless man to drive your car?!"

Scrooge rolled his eyes. "Beakly, calm down. He wasn't homeless. He was a backpacker."

"Then you left him, unattended, with your vehicle?"

"He did it for a dollar! And the best part is, I didn't even have to give it to him!"

"And… now he's sleeping in your garage." Beakly glared down at him, arms folded.

"One dollar!"

"Really?"

"Oh, fine. I felt bad for him, alright? He really wanted the job. And he can't be any worse than my previous drivers. It doesn't always pay to put your money on the professionals."

"Did you check any of his credentials?"

"Two million dollars more in my money bin, Beakly. That's credentials enough. Besides, I got my dollar back. I'm pretty sure I could tell him he could live in my garage, and he'd just work for me for free."

"You do realise, if you employ him, you are obligated to pay him minimum wage?"

Scrooge rolled his eyes and let out a long-suffering sigh. "I know."

[rhysismydaddy]

Felons pt. 1 (Nessian)

Nessian multichapter. Next part out probably Monday. As always, this one just sets up some stuff so it’s kinda boring. This one’s probably going to be long. And an emotional roller coaster. Just letting you know :) 

Lightly based off the book The Witness. I say lightly because I’ve actually never even read this book, but my mom told me about it. ALSO no offense to anyone who’s from/lives in Nebraska lol.

Cassian swiveled around in his chair and looked at his partner with raised brows. “She’s in Nebraska?”

“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?”

Someone’s a little testy today. He ignores the tone and repeats, “But... Nebraska? What the hell is she doing there? And why did it take us so long to find her?”

Azriel gives him a tight look, and he realizes the reason for his pissy attitude. He’s annoyed it took him so long to track her down. 

Before he can tell his partner it isn’t his fault, he says, “She isn’t doing much. She’s completely off the grid. Which answers your second stupid question, too.”

“Okay... how off the grid are we talking?”

The woman had grown up in a penthouse, for fuck’s sake. He couldn’t imagine her living in the middle of nowhere without any of the comfort she’d lived with her entire life. 

“No cell phone or bank records for the last two years. The last time she was seen by any sort of traffic camera was before that, and it was in Atlanta.” He scrolls through something on his desktop with a frown. “From what I can tell, she took all her money out in cash and hoped on a bus.”

Nothing about that sounded like the woman he’d been reading about, but he wasn’t about to argue with Azriel in such a bad mood. “So she went straight to Nebraska?”

“I don’t know.”

His least favorite answer. “How’d you find her, anyway?”

“Well, I figured that unless she was sleeping under a bridge, she had to be paying rent somewhere. So I went state by state, looking at new property purchases under her known aliases.” Azriel sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. “But that didn’t pull up any results, so I looked at all the IDs on new renter’s insurance purchases until I matched one to her.”

His eyebrows rose. “That’s...”

“Tedious as shit.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s why it took so damn long,” he mutters. “She’s been careful, Cass. I mean really, really careful.”

A laugh bubbled out of him at that. “Well, she should be. She’s a felon.”

~Nesta~

Nesta’s breath clouded in front of her as she ran up the hill, panting like crazy. Even though she’d taken up running after the move, she still fucking hated it. Especially when it was cold. 

Which, in Nebraska, was somehow year round.  

Even the summers here were cold compared to back home-

No. Not home. 

This was home now. 

California was slowly, painfully becoming a distant memory, and she had to constantly force herself to remember that Mackenzie Brooks had never lived there. She was born in Michigan. She has no family or friends. Her hobbies include reading and running (the last of which was a definite mistake to include). 

And she was her. 

God, it honestly was a miracle she hadn’t slipped up yet. 

Maybe it was still the fear that drove her. Maybe it was just that she knew she could never go back to her old life. No matter that she wanted to.

No matter that she’d picked up and left without a word.  No matter that her sisters probably thought she was dead. 

Thankfully, she made it to the top of the hill before she passed out or died, and she bent over, sucking down the freezing air. It was only October, but it was already cold enough to force her to wear three layers and a beanie. 

Despite being miserable and cold, she forced herself to go through her training course. 

Because it couldn’t just be enough to be fit enough to run away anymore. If the person chasing her was faster... 

Nesta punched her hand through the target, satisfied when the wood cracked down the middle. Her knuckles luckily had gotten used to the abuse, so when she ducked under the branch and struck again, another target went flying. 

By the time she was done, her hands and arms were tired and her body was aching for a bath. 

Or two hours on a warm, sunny beach. 

Since only one of those things was bound to actually happen, she trudged back to her cabin, praying the hot water would hold out long enough for a full bath. 

One thing about Blair, Nebraska was that somehow, the less than ten thousand people who lived here were always experiencing a water shortage. 

It rivaled the cold ass weather for her least favorite thing about the place as a very close second. 

Noticing who was parked in front of her small little house, she grimaced and amended her statement. Lack of hot water was actually third, second only to the one and only Sheriff Marks. 

He spun around when he finally heard her steps, smiling a big, ugly, fake smile. “Miss Brooks.”

“Marks.”

According to small-town social guidelines, she was being beyond rude for not calling him Sheriff. But he was a short, ugly, annoying man, and she didn’t hold an ounce of respect for him. 

And because she wasn’t completely fake, she didn’t bother hiding it. 

“What are you doing on my property?”

His smile dimmed as his eyes beady eyes narrowed slightly. “I wanted to see how you’re doing. You never come into town. And here in Blair, we take care of each other.”

That right there was the reason for her dislike; Sheriff Marks was an insatiably curious man. 

And ever since she’d shown up a year ago, he’d been trying to put together the puzzle of why a moderately attractive young woman would move to the middle of butt-fucking nowhere. 

“I’m fine.”

She wanted to walk by him and go inside, where she could blissfully lock him out, but she had a list of rules now, and not putting her back to people she didn’t know or like was at the top of it. 

“Okay, sure, but-”

“Listen, Marks. I appreciate this... gesture, but I moved here to be left alone. I’d appreciate it if you would respect that.” It was the most she’d ever said to him, and he looked a little shocked. “I think I’ve made it more than clear.”

His face went somehow even ruddier, and for a split second, she regretted the harsh words. 

She couldn’t have people caring about her, though. When people cared, they stopped by more and felt entitled to know your business. Neither of which were things she wanted. 

So she just raised a brow and shot a meaningful glance to his cruiser. 

“Yes. It’s perfectly clear exactly who you are.” 

She almost rolled her eyes at the attempted insult, thankful when he finally turned to leave. As he was pulling away, she united her muddy shoes and got her house key from her sock, grimacing at how tight her back was when she stood up. 

Inside, she went through and made sure every door and window was locked, a habit she’d picked up two years ago and hadn’t been able to shake. 

God apparently was looking out for her today, because when she finally made it upstairs, there was enough hot water to fill the tub. 

When she sunk down to her shoulders and closed her eyes, enjoying the moment of peace. But then images of her sisters’ faces, the ocean, and her old home popped up uninvited in her head. 

It was always quiet moments like these when she found it the hardest to shake the memories of who she used to be. And since Nebraska was always fucking quiet... 

Nesta reminded herself of why she was here; why it had been necessary to leave. She reminded herself that her family was safer with her gone, that she was safer. 

But the hole in her chest refused to listen and close up. 

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she was too tired to even brush it away and chastise herself. Because for the first time in twenty-five years, she admitted she was lonely. 

She’d been alone for most of her life, but there was a difference between alone and lonely. Even when she’d isolated herself from her family and friends, they’d still been there for her. 

But now... she had no one here. And she’d never felt so alone in her life. 

It was horrible enough to make her consider going back, despite the risks. 

This is home now, she told herself, dunking under the water to wash away the thoughts hounding her. You didn’t work your ass off to get safe just to bitch out after a year. 

Coming up and gasping for air, she went through her cover, just like she did every night. 

“My name is Mackenzie Brooks, nickname Mackie. I’m from Michigan, but I moved to Nebraska last year to start over. I like to read and run. I’m twenty-five.” Taking a deep breathe, she finished, “I don’t have any family.” 

No amount of time under the water could ebb the sting of those words, though.

~Cassian~

Cassian was honestly a little surprised he hadn’t gotten fired. 

He absolutely hated his orders, and he’d made that more than clear. They’d come straight from Command and “weren’t negotiable,” but that didn’t mean he hadn’t tried. 

Calling his boss a two-faced asshole might’ve been a bit much, but it felt justified in the moment.

Because in all the time he’d spent searching for Nesta Archeron, he’d always pictured the day he’d finally track her down and slap some cuffs on her wrists, haul her away to jail.

He’d never imagined he’d be given orders to find out what she knew first. 

And he’d also never imagined having to do so in fucking Nebraska. 

An hour in the state, and he already hated it. He was from Boston, so he didn’t mind the cold weather, but the lack of buildings over thirty feet was a shock to the system. 

That, alongside the fact that everyone here was wearing some form of plaid, only worsened his mood. 

It wasn’t like he cared about her or anything, but he’d never really liked undercover work. Deceiving a woman--no matter that she was a criminal--never felt right to him. 

But orders were orders. 

He had to find out why she’d run, what she knew about what had happened, and if she had any proof. The goal was to get it all recorded, so he had to carry around a stupid little tap recorder in his jacket pocket. 

Maybe she’d meet him and just spill her guts immediately. That’d be ideal, but it seemed pretty fucking unlikely. At the very least, he’d have to get her to trust him enough to talk about the events of two years ago.

He drove the crappy old truck Azriel had gotten him through the small town, gaining the eyes of pretty much every person he passed. 

Not a lot of new people, apparently.

Ignoring them, he drove to the address of a small house on the outskirts of town. Or home for however long it took him to get close to her. 

Gods, I hope she’s talkative, he thought, walking up the creaky stairs and shouldering the door open. 

Quiet and small, but at least it was clean. 

Throwing his bag down, Cassian grabbed his laptop and started to get to work. 

~

Three hours and a trip to the grocery store later, he’d learned absolutely nothing Nesta--or Mackenzie Brooks, rather. 

There had been nothing online, and no one in the store had much to say besides, “She moved here a year ago. Keeps to herself.”

Great. 

Luckily, he had a reason to go see her. They were neighbors. Kind of. 

Her house was further out of town than his, and she owned the land around it, so she didn’t actually have neighbors. But he lived within a two mile radius, so he counted it. 

Which is why he found himself sitting in her gravel driveway, eyebrows high on his forehead, staring at the place.

And for the first time, he questioned if Azriel was right. 

Because the woman he’d read about... she definitely didn’t seem the type to live here. 

The porch was missing floor boards, the roof was caving in on one side, and the paint on the outside of the house was peeling off. The only thing that looked somewhat new was the front door. 

It had three locks and seemed to be a little heavy duty compared to the house, which made it stand out in a pretty obvious way.

Stepping out of the car, he walked up to get a better look, avoiding the holes in the floor. The house was quiet, and he knocked on the door, finding it to be solid and heavy. 

No answer. 

He knocked again, waiting a few minutes. Then he decided to be nosy and peek in the window. 

A couch and dining table were all that was visible, furthering his opinion that she couldn’t actually live here. 

She’d grown up in one of the nicest apartment buildings in California. Her father had been a wealthy real-estate tycoon. She’d gone to private school and sailing camp, for Christ’s sake. 

There was no way she lived here. 

That theory was proven very soundly incorrect a second later when he felt something tap the back of his head. Repressing the jump that rose from not hearing anyone sneak up on him, he straightened and turned around. 

And found himself looking down the barrel of a shotgun into the surprisingly beautiful, angry face of Nesta Archeron. 

“You have five seconds to get the hell off my porch.” 

Shock ran through his system like lightening. For a few reasons, the least of which was the gun. 

For starters, pictures didn’t at all do her justice, because she was probably the most attractive thing Cassian had ever laid eyes on. And that was with mud splattered on her face, hair in a ponytail, and athletic clothes covering her thin frame. 

Then there was the fact that Azriel had been completely correct. Nesta Archeron, pampered little trust fund princess, was living here. In Nebraska. Completely off the grid. By herself. 

The gun was also a surprise, but not as much as the way she was holding it. Her feet were squared, her shoulders lined up to absorb the kickback if she fired. She looked... she looked like she knew what she was doing. 

She raised a brow, reminding him of the fact that he still hadn’t spoken. 

And remembering who he was supposed to be, what he was supposed to do, he ignored the gun and smiled broadly. “Or what?”

“Or I will shoot you,” she responded calmly, hand pulling back the fore-end to load the gun with a snap. 

“You aren’t going to shoot me,” he assured her. “I brought you a pie.” He held up the baked good and grinned. It was from the grocery store, but it still counted, right? “It’s blueberry.”

“What? Who the fuck are you? And why are you here?”

Sticking out a hand that she ignored, he said, “Cassian. I’m here because I just moved in to the place about a mile from here, and I wanted to meet my neighbors. I gotta say, I’m loving the hospitality.”

Nesta ignored the joke and asked incredulously, “You moved here?”

He nodded. 

She just narrowed her eyes, not buying it apparently. 

Good God, “stand-off-ish” didn’t begin to cover it. 

He was having a difficult time wrapping his head around the fact that this was the same woman who’d gone to UC Santa Barbara, liked to surf, and had dated a movie star.

“But what about the-”

“I hate pie.”

He scoffed, leaning against the crumbling wall of her house like he was unbothered by the rejection in her voice. “No one hates pie.”

Nesta shrugged, jerking her chin towards his truck in a clear get the fuck out manner. 

“I’ll leave if you tell me your name,” he bargained, acting like he didn’t know who she was already.

There was a pause of silence, and a bit of sadness seeped into her bright blue eyes. “Mackenzie.”

Mackenzie Brooks, one of her aliases.  

“Pretty name.”

“Leave.”

“Sweetheart, I honestly can’t believe you’re trying so hard to get rid of me. I’m the best looking guy around here.”

That might very well be true, considering he hadn’t seen a single person under the age of fifty when he’d gone out earlier. 

“And what if I’m not looking for a man?”

“I have a female cousin you could date instead.”

Her lips twitched, and it made him a little too happy to see. “If I take the pie, will you leave?”

“Counteroffer. We split the pie, then I’ll leave.”

Her eyebrows go up. “Who the hell offers someone half a pie?”

“I was planning on giving you the whole pie, but I didn’t know you’d be so beautiful. And feisty.” He ran his eyes over her slowly. “A quality I never even knew I liked.”

“The urge to shoot you just increased.”

Cassian waggled his eyebrows. “So passionate.”

Nesta just sighed, finally lowering the gun. She engaged the safety and leaned it against the door, then snatched the pie from his hands and walked to the porch railing. 

He noticed she didn’t turn her back to him the entire time, and she she kept the gun in arm’s reach. 

What the hell had she been through?

His train of thought was cut off when he heard a splat. Nesta came back to him, one crumpled half of the pie lying upside down in the lid, the other in the original container. She shoved the crumpled half toward him. “Now leave.”

“How did you even cut it? Do you have a knife hidden between your breasts?”

It was a miracle she didn’t slap him for that one. She just narrowed her eyes again and said, “Yes.”

He honestly believed her. 

Cassian sighed, knowing he had to actually leave now. “Well, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but it’ll do. It was lovely to meet you, Mackenzie.”

“Please just leave.”

Ouch.

He laughed and walked to his truck, calling out, “I’ll see you soon, neighbor!”

Nesta frowned at that, but he ignored it and grinned back. 

She stood on the porch watching him drive away until he was a certain distance, then picked up her stuff and unlocked the door. 

Well, Azriel had definitely been right: she was being very, very careful. 

But why? 

Cassian had no idea, but he was definitely going to find out. 

_____________________________________________________

Part 2

@sjm-things​ @santas-dwynwen​ @thebitchupstairs​ @sayosdreams​ @perseusannabeth​ @cursebreaker29​ @a-bit-of-a-cactus​ @elriel4life​ @girl-who-reads-the-books​ @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​ @highqueenofelfhame​ @tswaney17​ @rowanisahunk​ @superspiritfestival​ @studyliketate​ @over300books​ @justgiu12​ @maastrash​ @aesthetics-11​ @bamchickawowow​ @b00kworm​ @sleeping-and-books​ @musicmaam​ @hizqueen4life​ @maybekindasortaace​

[goddamnitkastle]

Tell Me Where Your Heart Is

Hello Brooke! (@the-restless-brook)! Yes, I am your Kastle Secret Santa. Ta da! 

You prompted me with “anything cozy, domestic, or angsty (as long as there’s a happy ending).” 

So full disclosure I really had no idea what I was gonna come up with for your gift. I thought about doing some sort of AU for you (because you really are the the Queen of the Kastle AUs) but that ended up being a red herring cause Season 2 of Virgin River came out and OH BOY did I get inspired lol

And so I ultimately decided to go full on angst, which I hope you will like. There is a happy ending, I promise. And there’s also a couple Marvel/Netflix Universe nuggets I threw in, I hope you’ll catch them :)

But to keep it simple, here’s a post The Punisher Season 2 fic in which Frank and Karen meet up at Josie’s. Will they make their way back to each other? (well, yeah, duh but it will be an angsty ride).

Enjoy! And Happy Holidays, Kastle Fam! <3

Josie’s on a Monday is pretty dead, even in December. Honestly a graveyard is more lively on this weekday than the bar in Hell’s Kitchen, despite the homely effort of the Christmas decorations put up by Josie herself. So when Karen comes strolling in, just dodging the light rain, and takes a seat, she’s not surprised by the look on the bar owner’s face.

“Wow. Must’ve been a hell of a day. Starting early for the week, huh?”

“I guess you can say that. Can I get a bourbon?” Karen asks as she places a twenty down on the bar top.

“You got it.”

Josie turns around and grabs the Four Roses bottle off the shelf. Karen takes a quick survey of the scene, clocks everyone here. Rob and Mira Donohue are having drinks at the table by the pinball machine and Tom Belkin is at the pool table with a friend.

“Here ya go, love.” Josie places the glass in front of her and takes the twenty. Karen takes a sizeable sip, tries to focus on the burn going down her throat rather than her rattling nerves. She doesn’t miss Josie’s eyes go wide though when she gives her her change. 

“Hey should I be worried tonight, Page? This isn’t your usual night and look, I don’t mind... usually…”

“It’s fine, Josie. I’m just... meeting someone. And I need this place to be quiet. I think they need... quiet.”

Josie shakes her head, walks over to the end of the bar. She pulls back a small curtain, revealing a safe hidden under the register. She turns the combination lock, opens it, and pulls out a 9mm.

“Josie come on, that’s not…”

“It’s a precaution. I do trust you... usually... but I got an establishment to protect.” Josie says as she ejects and checks the mag.

She clips it back in and clicks the safety off when the bell rings by the entrance door. Karen resists turning around, even though she is dying to see him.

God how long has it been since the hospital she thinks.

She goes for another sip of bourbon, tries to feign casualness even though his very presence has changed the mood of this dull Monday night. The Donohues have stopped talking and Tom and his friend have stopped playing. Heavy boots pad their way to the bar. Out of the corner of her eye, Frank Castle comes into her line of sight. He’s in all black, sporting a full beard, and scowling, but it doesn’t feel lethal to her. Josie though is gripping her gun like a lifeline.

“What can I do for you... scary hipster?” Josie asks.

Karen has to choke down her laughter. She covers her mouth with her hand and squeezes her eyes shut.

“I’ll just take a beer.”

Frank sits down a seat away from Karen and the tension lifts once Josie clicks the safety back on. The bar patrons resume their activities as she quickly serves Frank a beer, gun still in hand. Josie walks toward the end of the bar toward the safe but not before giving Karen a quick I will never let you in here again if there’s trouble tonight look. She just shrugs in response.

Neither of them say anything for a good while. Karen just focuses on her bourbon. Frank was the one who called her, he can start this. Not like she has anywhere to be...

Although drinking at Josie’s on a Monday night isn’t exactly at the top of her list.

“Hell of a place you picked.”

“Didn’t know what I was getting into. Knew it wouldn’t be crowded here... and I needed a drink.”

“What about your place? Don’t tell me you had to move again…” Frank cracks as he takes a swig of his beer.

“Nope, I’m still there.”

Frank takes a step closer to her. Karen can’t help it, she turns to face him and take him in. No bruises and his hair is growing out again. He looks the way he did when he first came back into her life, just without a blanket and not asking for change.

“Wasn’t sure you were gonna say yes to meeting me.”

“I wasn’t either. Still debating on leaving, actually…”

“Do you want to?”

“Honestly? Yes.”

“Okay. You can go.”

“Right.”

Karen starts to get up and she wishes she missed Frank’s face. Looking like a puppy who got kicked for chewing on someone’s flip flop.

“Hey.” Frank says intensely as he grips her arm. “Come on. Don’t…”

“Don’t what, Frank?”

“Don’t... go.”

“You literally told me I could go. Look, what do you want Frank? Can you just tell me why you called…”

“I will when you stop this.”

“Stop what?”

“Being pissed at me.”

“Being pissed... oh boy.”

She bites down on her bottom lip; a suppression to not straight up scream at him.

“I want to talk, Karen. But if you need to say something to me just say it. Just get it out in the open so that we can move forward.”

His eyes bore into hers. Karen hopes Frank isn’t looking into her soul, he doesn’t get to do that anymore. She knows she needs to break this, needs to move on. He chose the war. He chose to continue being The Punisher. The people that care about him, the peace he could have found... he pushed it all away. And he can’t just decide to want it now after almost a year of silence.

“Fine. I do have some things to say. But first, you’re gonna buy me a drink. Okay?”

“Okay.”

She walks back over to the bar and sets her bag and coat down again on the chair. Frank follows. Josie saunters over.

“Another bourbon, Page?”

“No I’d like two shots of whiskey please. He’s buying.”

Karen jerks her head toward Frank who immediately pulls out a wad of cash from his coat pocket.

“You got it.”

Josie walks away to get the shots. Karen takes a seat and Frank takes the one next to her.

“Didn’t take you for a hard liquor kind of girl.”

Karen opens her mouth, then closes it. How exactly is she supposed to respond to that? People have been making assumptions about her all her life and she’s in no mood to tell Frank that he’s wrong.

“But I guess I don’t know that much about you, do I? You always... surprise me.”

The genuineness throws Karen off. She wonders if she should cut him some slack. It’s not like they owe each other anything. The connection that Madani had told her they had will probably always be there but as it stands she doesn’t fit into his life and vice versa. What’s the point in trying to make it work?

“No. You don’t know anything about me.” She says after a prolonged pause.

Josie comes back with the shots and makes herself scarce again. Karen takes the shot and gestures to other one.

“Come on.”

“Jesus…” Frank mutters.

“Not into hard liquor like me? Wait. Let me guess. You actually love wine.”

“I do actually.”

He stares at the shot glass then back at her. He sighs and downs it. The grimace he makes is brief, but then he turns back to her and she knows what has to come next.

“It’s been a year since the hospital Frank. ” Karen starts as she rotates her empty shot glass with her fingertips.

“I think. I’m honestly not sure… anyway. I thought we were done. I thought you were finally out of my life and then those pot of white roses landed on my desk last week and… I really don’t understand what you want for me at this point. If it’s to get information I am not going to do that for you. If you are looking to reconnect I don’t want that either. Not while you continue to wage this war of yours that you chose. Over life. Over love. Over… me.”

She places the shot glass down, the clink on the wooden bar top being the loudest noise in her ears.

“I’m sorry. About that day. And I’m sorry I never called you after that. But I thought you understood.”

“Understood?”

“Why I am doing this. Why I couldn’t accept what you were offering me that day in the hospital. I lost my entire family, Karen. I had to watch them die and then bury them. You can’t even begin to imagine…”

“I’ve buried people that I loved. I absolutely know what you are going through. I know hurt. I know guilt. I know how it feels to want to drive a knife into this world just to feel like I had some kind of control over it. So don’t you dare try to tell me how I feel. I just…”

Karen huffs as she runs her fingers through her hair. Frank scratches at his beard, clearly processing.

“Do you think I like feeling like this? I am never going to see Maria again. I am never going to hold Lisa or Frankie Jr. in my arms. They are gone, Karen. And it is my fault that they are gone. If I let myself love you…”

“Frank…”

“It’s just a risk I can’t take. If anything happened to you… I wouldn’t be able to survive it.”

Frank’s trigger finger taps away on the bar top.

“So is that it? Is that why you called me? To tell me that you will forever be stuck in this black hole of a life? Stuck in a war that can never be won and you think it’s what you deserve?”

“It is what I deserve.”

“No it’s not Frank. The loss of your family… that is something that you will carry with you with the rest of your life. And the grief will always come straight at you, unexpectedly. But you deserve an after…”

“Karen, no…”

“You do. I know you can’t see it but you will come to a day where you’ll be able to think about them but still go on with your life. And that won’t feel like a betrayal...”

“I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I should’ve never called you.”

He practically bounds out of the bar stool and heads for the door.

“Frank!” Karen shouts.

The door swings and he’s gone.

This is a crossroads moment. Karen can feel it. She could let him go, never see him again. Maybe at last find peace with this pain. Find someone else to build a life with.

“You love him don’t you?”

Karen turns around to find Josie looking at her. She’s cleared their shot glasses away and is washing them in the sink.

“Josie…”

“Don’t try to deny it. And he loves you too.”

“Yeah, sure he does.” Karen replies sarcastically.

“He does. I remember that news story a while about that crazy asshole who shot up that hotel trying to kill ya and that senator or whatever. I read that he took a few bullets for you. That’s love.”

“How did you... nevermind. Yes, that is true, but then when I offered the option to love someone else, he said he didn’t want to.”

‘Yeah but then he asked to see you again. Timing is a bitch, that much I know. Come on, at least go out there and give the man a hug. Man looks like he could use one.”

Karen turns back to the front door. Before she can process it she is heading out the door, barely catching Josie‘s laugh.

The sharp, winter air hits her and the light rain Is back. Karen looks down both sides of the street, knowing that he is probably long gone by now. The man knows how to disappear, and will only be found if he wants to.

She goes to her left to head home. As she turns the corner, he’s there. Against the wall of Josie‘s, barely standing.

“Frank?”

She walks toward him but he doesn’t acknowledge her. He looks so broken, looking up at the sky.

“You belong with someone else, Karen. Not with me.”

“Don’t.”

“You do.”

“Well I don’t want someone else, Frank. I want you.”

He turns away from the sky and stares at her, wide eyed.

“Yeah. It’s still on the table. But if you’re not even going to open yourself up to the possibility of an after… And I’m not saying an after with me. I mean for yourself. If you won’t even allow yourself to try to find it then it’s not going to work. I need hope, Frank. I need to believe that there is a better world to make and to be had. Even if that means I am not going to be around for it. I am still going to try to leave it better than I found it.”

“Who was it?” Frank asks after a few moments.

“What?”

“Who did you bury?”

“My mom. My brother, Kevin.”

“Tell me about them?”

“Okay. Walk me to my car?”

She thought it would be a lot harder to tell him about what happened to her mom and Kevin, about who she was before she came to New York City. But it fell out of her, everything. He doesn’t interject nor interrupt her. They’re still a block away when she’s done talking.

They reach her car as Karen fishes for her keys. They are stuck at the bottom of her bag and she groans in frustration. She had almost forgotten that Frank is still with her but then she feels a hand lightly touch her shoulder.

“Karen.”

She looks up. He is looking better but there is still that same lingering, soul crushing sadness in his eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

The sincerity of his apology stuns Karen. Then it comes back. The memory of when she told Matt about what happened to Kevin.

“Jesus Karen.”

Matt was wrapped up in trying to take down Fisk at the time. Karen was trying to pull Matt back, she knew it wasn’t the right time to tell him. She knows he would’ve probably have had a different reaction under different circumstances. Karen knows this. But Karen would be lying if his response didn’t haunt her dreams every now and then.

“Well I should get home. If you ever wanna talk… well I’m sure you’ll reach me somehow. I’ll keep an eye out for another pot of roses.”

She gets her car door open and climbs into the seat. She turns the key in the ignition but the engine stalls.

“Come on.”

Karen keeps turning the key but the engine continues to stall.

Frank knocks on her windshield window.

“Hey, let me check. I can probably jumpstart your car.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Jesus Karen.”

“I don’t want you here, Karen.”

Karen smacks the steering wheel repeatedly and then screams. And screams. And screams.

“Karen! Karen!”

Frank’s voice is muffled and Karen barely registers that he’s opened her door and is pulling her out of the car.

“Karen it’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here.”

The screams turn into sobs and Karen stops trying to pull away from Frank.

She doesn’t know how long they stand there in the light rain while he holds her. Her crying does subside in time and all Karen feels is his heartbeat and his hand running up and down her back.

“I know. I know.” He keeps repeating into her ear.

Frank asks if Karen wants a ride home. Karen just simply nods, now realizing that her legs are numb.

“Okay. Let me make a quick phone call.”

Frank gets on the phone and says hi to Micro. Karen manages a small smile. Good to know that he’s not dead.

“Okay so Micro is calling in some favors. Your car is gonna get towed to a lot nearby. I will take care of it tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Frank.”

“Let’s get you home.”

Frank holds his hand out and Karen takes it. 

...

It takes an hour but they arrive in Karen’s neighborhood. Frank has to park ten minutes away from her apartment, which has him apologizing and cursing alternate side parking in one breath.

Karen feels simultaneously exhausted and wired. Frank hasn’t taken her hand in his since they got out of his van but they keep drifting and bumping into each other as they walk.

“Thanks for driving me back.”

“You’re welcome. You okay?”

“Yeah I just… I told Matt. About Kevin. And it... wasn’t the best timing and I had never told anyone before that moment and…”

“Yeah well I don’t think altar boy has the best bedside manner. Even on a good day.”

Karen can’t help but laugh. They walk up the front steps of her apartment building.

“Don’t worry about your car. It’ll be safe. I’ll pick it up tomorrow and take it to the shop. It’s probably the alternator.”

They reach her door.

“Okay so I have your car keys but you probably need these back.”

He hands her the rest of her key ring. He turns to go down the steps, their fingers interlocking around each other.

“So hold onto it. You have everything. Use two hands and never let go.”

Never let go.

Never let...

She grips on his fingers and he turns around. She doesn’t say or do anything but hold on to the key ring and his fingers. They just stare at each other but something changes, something shifts.

He walks back up the two steps, and they’re now face to face.

Karen can’t explain it but she’s filled with such a longing that she thought she had buried a long time ago.

They are still holding on to her key ring, the metal becoming warm from the heat of their hands. She inches closer and closer to his face, eventually ghosting her lips over his.

Karen places a small kiss on his mouth. He doesn’t react, which isn’t surprising, so she tries again. She can feel how taken aback he is but he starts to reciprocate soon enough. He angles his mouth as she pushes her tongue past his teeth, his hands cup her face as she wraps her arms around his neck.

The flurry and fury of their movements push them up the stairs. Karen has never been more grateful for her one floor walk up. He gets the door open as she gets to work on getting his jacket off. He helps her out of hers with ease, his mouth never leaving hers.

Karen is trying to take it all in but it’s too much. The ridges of the scars on his skin that have stories and how she wants to know all of them. How strong he is, taking her shirt off with a gentle force she has never felt. How soft his hair is, how his beard feels so fucking good on her neck.

They fall into her bed, still partially clothed but Karen doesn’t mind, she’s content to just kiss him and hold him close to her.

His mouth leaves hers and Karen tries to reach for it but stops. It’s that stare of his again. But it’s different this time. She’s seen him vulnerable but never this vulnerable. He honestly looks terrified.

“Frank what is it? We can stop…”

“No. I want to. I want this... I just... when we’re not together... when I don’t see you... it scares me. And I tried to hide from that feeling all year. Karen don’t…”

She runs her hands through his hair and he frames her head with his.

“It’s okay. It’s okay Frank.”

Instinctually, her hand slides down to his chest. Over his fast beating heart.

“It’s safe. You’re safe.”

She reaches for his face, her finger tips brushing against his lips. He kisses her palm and she pulls him back in.

...

Frank is warm. A comfortable warm, not the searing kind that comes from his nightmares. Hands are wrapped around his head and his face is pressed against soft skin. Karen’s skin. This stillness, after all that transpired last night between them, is strangely comforting. As is her slow, deep breathing. And when she wakes up, a smile forming at the sight of him, he still wonders if this is all a dream. 

“Morning.”

“Morning.”

“How do you feel?” Karen asks as she pushes away a strand of hair from his forehead.

“Happy.” Franks answers honestly. 

“That’s good.”

“And safe.” Frank admits quietly.

“That’s exactly how I want you to feel.”

“I do. With you.”

“So do I.”

He reaches for her face, brushes the pad of his thumb on her cheek. For a brief, sudden moment he sees smoke and a bloody cut on Karen’s forehead. How close he came to losing her that day…

“I will come for you.”

Frank shakes away the memory and tries to focus on this one. He wants these kind of memories with Karen, not the ones filled with violence and open ended goodbyes.

“Is everything okay, Frank?”

“Look Karen… I want to be honest. I don’t want to lie to you anymore and… you should know why I called you.”

Frank pulls away from her and sits up against her headboard. Karen follows suit, pulling her comforter up.

“Okay.” 

“I... want to be done. The Punisher… I want it to be over.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I won’t, uh, bore you with the details but… I was near death. About a month ago. I really don’t remember much but I wasn’t… planning to come back from this job. But I guess Curtis and Madani weren’t on board. They got me out and… I just remember cracks of light. From the car windows. And each time, I saw you. I honestly thought you had come with them. I kept wanting to let go though, finally be with… but you were there. Telling me to hold on. Cause there was another side to this. An… after. And I did. When I finally came to, I asked where you were. And yeah, I found out you weren’t really there but… it was real. And it got me through. And that was why I called. I want you there. But then you were ruthless... stomped on my heart... which I deserved... and I got scared. I’m still scared, Karen. But I don’t want to live without you anymore. And I don’t expect…”

Karen takes his hand, puts it in her lap. Whatever he was going to say next dies on his tongue.

“This is real, Frank. You know that, right?”

“I do.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

He leans in to kiss her and it is the sweetest touch he can muster. He hopes it is enough.

It was a hell of a journey for them to get to this point. And they still have a long way to go. But her heart is safe with him. And now his heart can be safe with her.

[danddymaro]

My Only  | Tatewaki Kuno x Reader

Thoughts are italics in quotations = ‘Example’

Flashbacks are in italics = Example

Word Count :  4325 

I decided to finally post this since it was a little idea i had a long time ago, and never really finished. Kuno was headass...but cute nonetheless.

My Only

Walking along the halls of her new school, (f/n) held on tightly to her leather bookbag strap, biting the inside of her left cheek in anxiousness.

‘I’m late,’ she thought worriedly. ‘So...maybe I shouldn't go in at all… Maybe I should just wait till tomorrow.’ She added with a worried crease to her (dark/light) brow.

‘ Everyone is going to be staring…’ she grimaced at the thought of having all eyes on her staring at her with expectancy and wonder. Just the thought of it made her palms sweaty and legs go overwhelmingly wobbly.

‘I’d never miss any days anyways,’ She argued, ‘Just one… the first shouldn't really matter…’ She went on, but as she contemplated the decision of just leaving it all for the next day, she found herself already at the door to her new classroom.

Looking down at the small index card she looked back up at the number a second and third time for good measure.

“This is the right classroom…” she said swallowing hard, already feeling her heart going into full gear and pounding restlessly in her chest.

Her hand nervously rose to tap on the door, but stopped inches before she could reach it as her nerves got the better of her. From the window on the door, she could see her new instructor already giving a lesson, writing on the chalkboard with quick swift movements, completely leaving behind a couple of scrambling students on important notes, those who bothered to pay attention at least.

Everyone else stared on with glazed looks, present, but not truly there.

She realized that if she walked in then, she'd be interrupting an ongoing lesson, and the professor didn't look lenient at all from his stern look and obvious frustration.

“I would have been here earlier,” She defended herself, “ But my alarm is busted,” she went on, knowing that even if she had an excuse, it really didn't matter. She’d had a hard ass instructor before, and unfortunately had the luck or getting one just about every year.

Hanging her head, she sighed deeply. “I can't do this,” she said defeated, backing up.

With that one step, rather than a quick retreat she found herself bumping into another body. As an immediate response, she jumped away from the new person in fright and stared at them wide-eyed, (e/c) eyes fully rounded and alert.

Before her stood another student, evident by the furinkan high uniform that was identical to hers. Her hair was a silky brown color, the longest strands not even reaching past her chin. Hime styled bangs hid her eyebrows, stopping in a curved cut right over her eyes, framing the entirety of her face nicely in a precise cut. And between her two closed, peachy lips was a small white stick which she brought out, revealing it to be a red-colored, cherry-flavored lollipop.

The brunette trained her eyes on the shaken girl and sized her up, studying her with keen eyes before she spoke, “You're the new student.” she started, showing a slight smirk, an almost permanent expression she found herself making, but not that the new girl knew that.

Eagerly nodding, (f/n) stared at her feet, embarrassed to be called out so easily.

She probably stuck out like a sore thumb…

“ boy, you’re real shy aren't you?” The bowl cut female said chuckling, finding it amusing and well, just plain cute enough to make her interested in the flustered girl. She was so used to the usual strong personalities and craziness that the meek girl before her actually seemed interesting... dare she say out of this world.

In Fact the only softer person she could name was her sister Kasumi, but Kasumi was more modest than meek.

(f/n) raised her eyes up at the comment, seemingly taken back. It wasn’t to say the brunette was wrong but wasn't it reasonable for (f/n) to be nervous?

This was the first day of school for her, her first day meeting people, moving to a new place, a new world, and life, wouldn't anyone else be just as nervous?

‘Day 1 and I’m already labeled’ (f/n) thought shrinking back, ‘I don’t want to be known as anything else but my name. And I don’t want some dorky name to follow me around !’ she thought with a grimace, shaking her head in denial. But before she could defend herself, the other girl spoke, interrupting her upcoming protest,

“ You already got good points for being cute, acting all shy like that, the guys here are gonna swallow you whole,” she said as a matter a fact, placing a hand to her hip.

At the blunt comment ( f/n) did a double-take, forming a horrified expression.

“Wait, wait ! what do you mean?! Swallow me up whole?”( f/n) said gasping, finding it hard not to stutter at such a comment.

“ This school is full of some real hounds… if you act like that all the time, I'm positive you won't survive and trust me, there are some persistent guys here...I know some personally.” The brunette stated, lifting her chin up with a grin, almost like it was something to be proud of.

“Oh no,” (f/n) said worriedly, “ that’s troublesome,” she added, not being able to imagine such a scene, not being able to handle the thought of having to have to actually have to fight guys off.

Back at her old school there wasn't much of a conundrum, for the most part, it was the usual boring school days filled with even boringer lessons and homework, but at the very least she hadn’t been harassed.

‘Maybe I should skip the whole school year,’ (f/n) thought deadpanned. ‘Not show up at all,’ She added, her shoulders slumping.

“Where are my manners,” the brunette said shaking her head. “ Nabiki Tendo,” she said extending out an open hand to the (e/c) eyed girl. Smiling, albeit in a troubled manner, (f/n) took the greeting with welcome, taking Nabiki’s hand.

“(f/n)( l/n)” she responded with placid kindness.

“So, you gonna walk in?” Nabiki said pointing her chin to the closed door, receiving a tight smile from the other teen.

“If you want me to be honest, I'm not even sure if I can...or want to,” (f/n) admitted sighing, receiving a simple, small ‘ah.’ from the other student.

Nabiki seemed to stop and think about something before snapping her fingers together suddenly.

“Say, You wanna ditch this class?” she offered with a bright-eyed twinkle to her eye.

“ You're already late, actually missed over half the instruction,” she said shrugging, “so what do you say, wanna skip?” She offered smiling brightly, hoping to convince the girl and find something to do other than sit through a boring lecture.

“After the first half we usually sit down and stay shut, The teach doesn't like noise,” Nabiki said rather annoyed, “So we’d just be in there doing nothing,” she said with an eye roll. “So yeah?” She asked with a coy grin, hoping to convince the girl.

“Skip?”( f/n) repeated worriedly, “but...won't we get in trouble?” she asked in a hushed tone.

Nabiki shrugged, “I never have.” She said without an eyebat. “I’m what you call a repeat offender,” she said smirking at the look she received, which was one of astounded surprise.

“ So you do this a lot don’t you?”( f/n) asked raising a brow, her tone being lingered with a sense of judgment.

“Hey, don’t judge, weren't you gonna do it just a few minutes ago?” Nabiki said with a challenging look, crossing her arms and staring down at (f/n). (f/n) backed down sighing, “ i was only thinking about it,” she muttered embarrassed, “not like I was gonna pull through with it.” she added.

“Well, I’ve decided for you,” Nabiki said as she smiled, grabbing the other girl's wrist and pulling her along.

“ Listen goodie two shoes, it’s nice to let loose once in a while,” she said, offering advice, “ be bad for once,” she added, making (f/n) roll her eyes playfully, a gleeful, little grin coming over her.

‘First day and I'm already skipping,’ she thought feeling slightly excited, being dragged by the other girl. ‘This is actually the baddest thing I've ever done!’ she inwardly squealed, almost shaking.

Feeling the grip on her wrist fall, (f/n) looked to the side to see Nabiki walking beside her nonchalantly, like she wasn’t roaming around with the risk of being caught.

“ so what should we do first? “ (f/n) asked excitedly, making Nabiki's eyebrows rise and her face blossom with amusement, “ so I was right, it’s your First time?” She said chuckling.

With an enthusiastic nod (f/n) confirmed.

“Well, sorry to disappoint, but It's not a big deal, not that exciting,” Tendo said chuckling, “i was just gonna go see a classmate of mine, he got his butt handed pretty bad by this other kid this morning,” she said shaking her head at the memory. The present excitement faded from (f/n)’s face and a look of concern settled onto her instead. “Is he being bullied?” she said worriedly, feeling bad for the poor guy already.

At that, Nabiki almost choked on the hard candy, pulling it out harshly to save herself.

“ if anything the idiot deserved it!” she said laughing, using her other hand to give (f/n) a pat on the shoulder, “trust me, he had it coming, so don't feel too bad.”

“But isn’t he your friend?” (f/n) asked with confusion.

“Loosely, “ Nabiki said flatly.

She wasn’t friends with Kuno. But at the same time, she wasn't not friends with him either...if that made any sense.

He’d been her associate before, if she could call him that.

...Or her customer if that was more fitting.

Between both Akane and Ranma, Nabiki was able to get enough pictures to sell to the doofus, making easy cash, so of course, she’d care just enough.

‘You do seem to care… even just a bit,’ (f/n) observed. ‘Even if you don’t want to show it,’ she added, watching Nibiki’s defensiveness.

“ oh Alright, “ (f/n) said nodding, offering an amused chuckle at the response,

“can’t wait to meet him then,” She added.

“If he's even awake,” Nabiki interjected, “ come on I’ll lead the way,” Nabiki said walking ahead, knowing the direction by heart, having the other girl trail behind, taking in everything she could.

“Well, we're here,” Nabiki said throwing her candy’s white, little stick in the trash bin as they entered the open room.

“And there he is,” Tendo muttered, outstretching her hand to the unconscious male. “Still out cold i see,” she added with a snicker, jabbing her finger to his cheek.

“Not even a noise, “ she observed, looking back to her new friend, waving her closer.

“This right here is Kuno, Tatewake Kuno,” Nabiki said with a shake of her head. “That’s one name you’ll hear around here pretty much every day,” she informed her.

As (f/n) glanced down to the sleeping boy, she felt a dust of pink touch her cheeks, crawling up to the tips of her ears, making her face match the color of ripe, little cherries.

‘He’s really cute...’ she thought to herself, her hand absentmindedly going to lay over her warmed cheek.

He wasn't even awake and was making her blush a few shades of red, her heart racing like a wild stallion at his close presence. Nabiki noticed the obvious change, and stared wide-eyed, her dark chocolate eyes filled with shock,

“No way…” she mumbled not sure whether to facepalm, or succumb into a large fit of laughter. “There’s no way, “ she muttered, going unnoticed by the other girl as all her focus lay on the teenage boy.

‘ The girl could not have possibly gained a crush on that enormous moron,’ Nabiki tried to reason. She hadn’t even thought it possible, but once she saw the notable affection glittering in (f/n)’s eyes, she sighed,‘ She's got it bad for him already.’

It hadn't even crossed her mind that it was a possibility...It was just that stupid.

But now what was she to do?

‘I guess the idiot is kinda cute,’ Tendo argued, though she felt a bitter taste in her mouth as she admitted it. ‘It’s not like i haven't noticed, but…’ She trailed off, shaking her head, ‘I guess there is someone for everyone,’ she mused, ‘That is if he can stop being such a dog,’ She added, uncertain on him even being capable of it.

The school nurse came from her small office and took notice the two extra students in her little room and smiled at them, not at all bothered or concerned by the extra people,

“You two don't have to worry about him, he should come to soon enough.” She said placing a hand over both of their heads, making them look up at her.

“He's a pretty stubborn headed one, so I don't think a little knockout is gonna get him to stop walking around like he usually does,” she said eyeing Tatewake with an amused gleam in her brown eyes.

“You mean like he owns the place?” Nabiki said flatly, not being the least bit willing to hold back her remarks.

The middle-aged woman didn't answer, only giving the younger a knowing look, rolling her eyes. She didn't want to say it out loud, but since the teen already did, she had no choice but to agree silently.

Bending down to the mischievous teen, the chummy nurse pinched her cheek,“ Nabiki Tendo, you look out for this boy,” she advised, pulling at the caught bit of flesh with a frown, “He comes in here about every week! You know, you should really talk him out of those silly fights with that Saotome boy.” she said for what seemed like the umpteenth time, pestering the Tendo female.

(f/n) could tell it was almost rehearsed at this point with how much it had probably been stated before, meanwhile, Nabiki shrugged, pursing her lips.

“Aww, Then how would I get out of instruction Mrs. Ito?” She said pouting, making the elder woman give her a halfhearted glare.

Shaking her head, Mrs. Ito sighed,

“You little devil.” She muttered, then focusing her eyes onto the other girl, a new face she hadn't seen before.

She smiled in welcome, shooting the new girl a flashy smile,

“ Hey, don't let this one get you into too much trouble,” she advised jutting her thumb to the smirking girl, “ Behind that sweet little face is a little demon,” she said ignoring the halfhearted glare shot at her by the so-called demon.

“Don't look at me like that kiddo, how about you come here and help me if you're going to cut class again, do something productive,” she said beckoning the short-haired girl with her index finger.

Groaning Nabiki stood up and walked over to the nurse,

“Ahhhhh work,” she said in a flat voice.

“I don't want to hear it.” Mrs. Ito said laughing at the obvious display of displeasure.

As Nabiki and Mrs. Ito disappeared to the back, (f/n) trailed her eyes back to the sleeping teen.

Quietly approaching him, she stood before him and stared down at his sleeping face as she did before, this time taking time to really study his features.

Before she had tried to be discreet, knowing more than one person would call her out on the ogling, but now she could feel unashamed.

In her preoccupation, she failed to notice Mrs. Ito peer over from the doorway and give her a grin, watching her fluster over the unconscious boy.

“ She wasn't kidding,” The nurse said shaking her head.

As soon as she walked into the back with Nabiki, the girl didn't waste time in voicing her suspicions, all with an amused grin.

“ care to change the cloth on his forehead?” she said out loud, surprising the daydreaming teenager. (f/n) turned to her immediately, stepping back from the unconscious boy, like she’d been caught doing something she wasn't supposed to,

“ I've got my hands tied back here sweetie, is it too much to ask?” The nurse said offering her a pleading look. (f/n) shook her head, “No trouble Mrs. Ito, I'll get right to it!” she said sparing another glance at Tatewaki before making her way to the sink.

Wringing a cloth, she carefully brushed the dark, lightly curled hairs covering his forehead aside with gentleness, placing the white towel on his forehead. Absentmindedly, her touch lingered as she ran her fingers through the brunettes soft, wavy strands, easily passing through them and feeling the dark hairs slip in between her fingers.

Before she could retract her hand his two eyes open to reveal blue tanzanite’s staring back up at her with a piercing gaze, making her gasp in surprise.

“ I must have died, “ he said softly, training his eyes on her, not seeing anything but the lovely face above him.

“ Only there could I see such an angel glance down upon me,” He added, almost too smoothly.

With a softly formed smile, he stood straight up and turned to her, capturing her small hand in his. He seemed to pull himself together quickly, the injury he had a thing of the distant past like it had never even been there.

It was then that an obnoxious, loud laugh cut through the room, Nabiki walking forward, shielding her tearing eyes with a hand.

“ no, no, no, Kuno baby, no! You didn't just say that!” she said snickering. meanwhile (f/n) was left tongue-tied, her brain going fuzzy as she took in his words.

Tatewaki on the other hand glared at his short-haired classmate, his eyes immediately finding her and narrowing,

“ well if it isn't Nabiki Tendo again...with you here I wouldn't imagine it being heaven. Perhaps a hellish world instead.” he said less than pleased, “ But such judgment from you Tendo... Could it be your envious?” he asked smirking in her direction, to which the girl shook her head, visibly gagging.

“ Kuno baby, I wouldn't touch you with a 10-foot pole,” she said smoothly, placing her hands on her hips, sticking her tongue out at him childishly.

“ I wouldn't care if you did, for I have no interest in you bothersome girl!” Tatewaki said immediately, turning back to (f/n). Whilst still taking hold of her hand, he stepped off from the bed, standing at his full height, leaving the teen even more surprised with the difference.

“ Forgive me, my sweet angel,” he said, offering her a charming smile. “I would have noticed a lovely girl like you… may i assume your new here?” he asked her.

Nodding furiously, (f/n) answered him, “ Y-yes, (f/n) (l/n),” she uttered out breathlessly, staring deeply into his blue eyes.

“ Tatewaki Kuno,” he introduced himself, lifting up her hand to lay a kiss on the flesh, “It is a pleasure to me-” He was cut short as (f/n) was pulled away,

“ Oh look at the time,” Nabiki said suddenly, whisking his new infatuation away.

His first meeting with her had been interrupted, leaving him even more intrigued with the girl. Determined, he pursued her, though admittedly straying in other directions from time to time.

But he argued It wasn’t his fault, something no one else seemed to understand, not even the (h/c) haired girl he’d become so close with.

After months of friendship, his ways put a damper in their growing relationship, becoming something he couldn't bear,

And it was then he made his decision,

“My eyes no longer wonder!” he assured her, taking a hold of her hand in his, pulling her back. With the force she came towards him, nearly crashing back to him.

He was quick to take the other hand in his opposite one, lifting them up to his lips at the same time.

Kissing the tips of her knuckles gently, he took a large breath, kneeling down before her, falling to one knee.

Her eyes nearly popped right out of their sockets as she stared at him, her stomach dropping in that very instant. Aside from that, she felt embarrassment, knowing they were at the center of a scene, fallen beneath all of Furinkan high’s population.

“(f/n), my love, I assure you that I only breathe for your existence now my sweet. “ He started, “ Akane Tendo, nor the pigtailed girl are as beautiful as you, or as captivating. In fact, no other woman alive could compare to you! You single-handedly have stolen my heart, ” He said smiling up at her with complete adoration.

‘ A true Goddess, of not one, but all realms and lifetimes, my (f/n)!’ He thought with a soft sigh, an arrow wedged within his heart, pointing right at the (h/c) haired young girl.

He knew that anyone that could wash away the pigtailed girl, and above all Akane Tendo had to be the one. Anyone that had made him tear down their portraits without regret was the one to own the entirety of his being.

Withdrawing her hand from his, she placed them over her face, hiding her two blazing cheeks from him.

“ st-stop saying stuff like that! ” she squealed, shaking her head with denial,“You can’t be serious!” she said stunned, but also on edge.

He couldn't really be so ‘ in love ’ as he claimed

… could he?

She’d known him for ⅔ ‘s of the school year, considering she arrived later than the had year began. It hadn’t been enough time to basically declare such a thing,.

But then again…

‘We’ve gone out together….’ He’d taken her out many times, but of course, just as friends, that being the ruse.

‘ Friends don’t go out alone for fancy dinners… Friends don’t buy roses…’ She thought to herself immediately afterward.

‘He hadn’t mentioned Akane… of Ranma in months…’ She contemplated, ‘In Fact… this is the first time he even talks about them…’ She went on.

‘Is he really... really done with them...all for me?’ she pondered, shaking her head with denial,

‘ No … He’s an idiot!’ she thought with tightened fists, looking away from him, turning with a cold shoulder.

If he didn’t care about Akane, then why was he arguing with Ranma to begin with? The only reason would be his feminine form or Tendo...

Seeing (f/n) turn away from him, Kuno immediately stood up with worry creased brows, trying to find the words to sway her,

“I know I have been a scoundrel... my eyes have wandered far too many times, as my heart

- but my love!” he started, crying out to her. “ I swear to you that I would never stand before you and spew lies!” he swore.

With an eye roll, Ranma stepped forward, shoving Tatewake, “ As much as I hate this idiot… he’s not lying.” Ranma said with assurance. “He wanted to pick a fight with me because he thought I was trying to steal you away,” he said with annoyance.

“ Steal me away?” (f/n) murmured dumbly, struck by absolute disbelief.

‘He was fighting over me?’ she went on, her heart going it’s fastest it’d ever gone, her (e/c) colored eyes glazing over at the gesture.

“My dear, are my words and declaration of love too much for your gentle heart? Have they finally reached you?” he asked worriedly, truly showing a face of concern, an unmistakable look of genuine worry, but deep down within being joy-filled.

“The fire within my passionate heart blazes and burns for you, I could not ever give you anything less than my full affection,” he said somewhat dejected, unable to show her any less than his 100%. “And I will fight for you, every day of my life, so long as you know i am yours,”

‘ oh god...he's such a cornball, but a stupid sweet…. Cute.. cornball! ’ she thought not feeling her blushing die out. Instead, she launched herself towards the chocolate haired teen and placed a gentle kiss onto his soft lips, feeling a rush of excitement coursed through her veins at doing so.

She hadn't even thought it out, simply gone ahead and done it, her body moving to get a taste of the craving her heart’s been dying for.

From her closed eyes, she didn't see his own touch of red on his cheeks or the way his blue eyes sparkled with desire and affection.

His arms locked around her small body and hold her up, raising her to come up to meet his height with an effortless swoop.

Her feet dangled above the ground as she was lifted up, the two swinging with happiness as she was pouring all of herself into the loving smooch. Her hands came to his shoulders and wrapped themselves around his neck tightly as he spun her around once, all while joyous laughter arose from his chest.

“Now that you are mine,” he started, “ I have nothing more to hide,” he continued on, giving her sweet eskimo kisses, brushing his nose on hers. He grinned wildly as he watched her cherry-red face while she returned his affection.

He could openly love her, and have his endearments returned…

“ Oh, My darling angel… I love you, I love you so, so very much,” he said softly, a glazing look washing over his eyes making them seemed like polished blue stone.

With a quick snap, Nabiki sighed, “Well, I guess that's the last of them,” she muttered to herself with disappointment, though with a small smile drawn over her that was both genuine and happy for the two.

“This one will be on the house,” she said to herself, looking down at the couple's first, official picture together.

[sally-mun]

OKAY BITCHES ON TO PART 2!

Also don’t forget to check out Part 1 if you haven’t yet!

British

Okay so maybe it’s in poor taste to start the British section with dolls I’m not actually sure are British, but fuck it. The one on the left is a doll I’m reasonably sure I got from a British seller, and the one on the right seems to just be a scaled-up version of it, SO. That’s what I’m going with.

No joke, the left doll is my favorite Sonic plushie EVER. It’s so incredibly fluffy and the proportions are just right and it’s really well-made and AUUGHH I LOVE HIM. Interestingly the doll on the right is made of the same uber-fuzzy material, but it doesn’t have as much of a fluffy effect because of the larger scale. Also the shoe stripes are ribbons for some reason, which makes them stand out from all the other dolls.

So this is from a line of dolls that, as far as I’ve ever seen, are simply known as “Europe prize” plushies. I don’t know if they were actual prizes for some sort of game or claw machine or whatnot, but that’s how I tend to see them listed. These dolls are REALLY nicely made and incredibly cute, like way more than usual. I also have the Knuckles from this set, but he doesn’t live in this net so he’s not pictured here.

I know this line also included Sonic (obviously), Amy, and Shadow, but I’m not sure who else. I’d REALLY like to get the others someday, but I don’t have much hope for that, since they’re long since out of production and prices just keep going up as everyone cashes in on nerd collector culture.

This doll is fine enough on its own (if a bit fearful in the eyes), but what’s really odd about it is that it’s like literally twice as tall as the other dolls in its line, for some reason. I have the Sonic and Tails from this set, and their sizes both match each other, but for some reason Knuckles is a tall boi?? Oh well.

I believe this set also includes an Eggman doll, but I’ve never seen it before.

I wish I’d thought to showcase it better in this photo, but the tag on the bottom of Sonic’s right foot here is the real spotlight of this doll. I don’t know much about the background of this doll, but i know that tag on his foot is what distinguishes him from other Sonic dolls, and collectors go NUTS for this guy. I remember missing out on one years ago because the shipping was too costly (it’s always been rough importing from Britain, but it used to be a lot harder), and for a while I thought I’d never get one. Oddly this one that I did eventually nab is the only one I’ve ever seen with suction cups. I’d like to hope that one day I could get the one that doesn’t have them, but I’m not holding my breath.

Following the last doll, I’m sure a lot of you are immediately noticing that this Tails also has the tag on his foot, albeit a very faded one. This doll is also super odd, because EVERY other time I’ve ever seen this doll before, it has NOT had the foot tag! This one is the only one I’ve encountered with the tag, and I didn’t even know it had it until it arrived in the mail. This doll is also about 50% bigger than the Sonic doll with the foot tag, maybe he goes with the non-suction cup’d Sonic plushie? I don’t know off the top of my head how big that Sonic is supposed to be, so it’s possible! Or maybe these dolls have nothing to do with each other, and I bought some weird anomaly. Definitely one of the weirder Tails plushies in my collection.

Australian

EASILY the ugliest doll I will ever own, short of maybe obtaining the Tails that matches this set. (Trust me, the Tails is REALLY FUCKING UGLY.) I have such mixed feelings on this lil guy because, as many of you already know, this is one of the elusive Sega World Sydney dolls, which means it’s EXTREMELY rare and thus meant to be treasured... and yet holy shit guys how did you fail so hard on this doll. I mean FOR FUCK’S SAKE HE DOESN’T EVEN HAVE SOCKS! OR FINGERS!! There were plenty of Sonic plushies in the world by the time this doll was created, and they all socks and fingers, let alone better designed faces. I dunno man, I don’t know how to reconcile how ugly this doll is.

And then there were two.

Those of you that’ve been following me for years have probably already seen these before, but fuck it, here they are again. The Sega World Sydney plushies are the ONLY official Sally plushies to exist, and like the Sonic one, it’s really difficult to reconcile how incredibly ugly they are. I mean I can at least cut them some slack with the faces I guess, because the one on the left isn’t terrible I suppose. I think the fact that she doesn’t have hands is really stupid, but I mean, if Sonic didn’t get fingers I guess I’m not surprised Sally didn’t either. No, the thing that really gets me about these Sally dolls is the hair. It’s hard to tell from this angle but it’s.... bad. Oh my god it’s so fucking bad. It looks like she had a bad incident with a weedwacker. WHO THE FUCK DID THEY HIRE TO DESIGN THESE PLUSHIES?!

Whatever, I don’t turn away official Sally merch. Vests exist for these dolls, but as you can see I don’t own them for either of these two. I do have a third, smaller Sally that DOES have her vest, but she doesn’t live in this net. Maybe another time!

More bad Sally hair, this time without legs because she’s a hand puppet. She probably has the worst hair of all of the Sally dolls I personally own, it’s very clumpy and matted. The others’ hair is at least still fluffy.

I’ll let the fact that she doesn’t have hands slide here, being a puppet at all, but even then it’s only because I’m feeling generous. There’s no reason she shouldn’t have had them.

SOOOO not technically a plushie, but it was in the net and I’m doing Sally items right now anyway, so fuck it. This is a mini-backpack, but the fabric is so furry that it’s pretty much impossible to get a clear picture. I left the strap there sticking out just to help give some idea of what shape you’re even looking at.

I can’t remember what I paid for this, and honestly I don’t care, because it’s so unique and I’ve never seen another one since.

Bootlegs

A friend of mine sent me this as a surprise a few years ago because he thought it was cute, and I definitely have to say it’s one of the more fascinating items in my collection. Most of the time bootleg merch is trying to imitate something official to confuse the buyer, but so far as I know this is completely original! I love it because it’s what I imagine Sonic would look like if he were an Animal Crossing character. The most bizarre detail of all, though, is that the tush tag has the logo for Detective Conan instead of Sonic the Hedgehog. I HAVE NO IDEA WHY.

This is a fake version of the Fang/Nack doll from Sonic the Fighters, but honestly, I don’t mind at all that it’s a bootleg because holy shit this doll is higher quality than some of my official ones! (I’M LOOKING AT YOU, SEGA WORLD.) According to the pictures I’ve seen, I think he’s actually even better quality than the original he’s copying!

It’s hard to describe just how nice this doll is, because the picture seriously does not do him justice. The stitching is perfectly clean, the proportions are absolutely perfect, the fabric is soft and high-quality, and oh my god the HAT!! The hat is AMAZING, it’s actually solid and holds its shape VERY well! The same goes for his tail too, on that note. Plushies with long tails tend to have trouble maintaining their shape, but this doll’s tail is really well done. He also has a much longer muzzle than most dolls of this time were willing to use, which again helps his proportion and overall accuracy. I don’t give one single shit that this doll isn’t official, I love him so fucking much! <3 <3 <3

Other Dolls

What can I say, I fucking LOVE Nick Wilde from Zootopia, and this is one of the best dolls of him I’ve ever seen. It’s actually really nicely made (they put a LOT of work into his shirt), and he’s very soft and huggable. Also, bless that smarmy expression, they got it just right.

Jumbo Tom Nook! This is the only jumbo plushie of him I’ve ever seen, so I’m glad I was able to nab it. The fabric is oddly shiny though, and I have no idea why?? I have several Tom Nook plushies from different doll lines, and I’ve never seen another one that’s shiny like this.

Decided to picture these guys together because why the fuck not. I apologize for the lack of clarity, but I’ve never been willing to open their bags. I want them pristine~

One thing I think is cool about the Undertale dolls is that there’s so much uniqueness put into each one. They all have differently shaped tags to reflect their individual personalities, and the plastic bags they come in have different patterns as well. The fabric patterns all completely unique to each one as well, so they’re not all clones of each other (especially with Papyrus).

You can actually still buy all of these guys right now on the Fangamer website! They’re pricey, but you get a quality that makes the price worth it, and you get a discount if you buy them together!

Vault Boy from Fallout, and for some reason I’m just now realizing that I don’t know what vault number is on his back. I feel like a terrible fan, FORGIVE ME. He has also never come out of his bag, so sorry for viewing difficulties here as well.

Companion cube ‘fuzzy dice’ for the car. This is one instance in which I have actually not used the car-related plushie in my car, as at the time I got this it was VERY difficult to get companion cube merch of any kind (these dice were actually a compromise with myself because I still couldn’t afford a regular cube), and after the work I put in to find these I definitely wasn’t going to risk them in my car! Just as well anyway, because they’re awfully big and would’ve been pretty cumbersome to look past.

...I did, however, put these in my car for a while. These are fuzzy D20 dice, because come on, if you’re going to hang dice in your car and have the option to use these, how can you not?? It definitely got a lot of compliments, even from people that simply saw them through the window. I didn’t even play tabletop games yet at the time, I just really liked them~

AAAAND THAT’S IT~ At least, that’s it for this net! Maybe I’ll do this again with the other nets sometime, if you guys would like to see more. I do have another one that also very much needs a dusting, so we’ll see!

Thanks for tuning in!!

[ohtheseboysilove]

The life ahead of us I/III [Billy/Four x F!Reader]

Words : 4, 200 K +

Warnings : fluff, smut, angst, blood…

Summary : Billy and reader decided to quit the Six Underground team after three years fighting the bad guys. They agreed to help them finish this last job before starting their new life. Only three more missions to go for a life of freedom.

Note : Hiyyaaa, first 6 Underground writing and I’m beyond excited ! (and bloody nervous too!!!) I had this idea few days ago and I didn’t want to start writing it because I have a lot of other stuffs to finish/edit but I just couldn’t stop thinking about it so…The whole story is already clear in my mind, divided in 3 parts (was supposed to be a simple OS but I got carried away as usual…). Anyway, I hope you’re gonna like it as much as I do and don’t forget to tell me what you think (even if it’s just a meme or a heart emoji, I’m surviving on these little comments!). Lots of love xx

x Masterlist x

General Headquarters of the 6 Underground team.

His mouth was hot, almost burning against yours, tongues and legs intertwined together in a passionate and lustful mess.

His thrusts were becoming sloppy as he was coming closer to his orgasm, his fingers quickly working on your clit to bring you with him and he was doing an amazing job as usual.

“Fuck…baby I’m so close” He breathed against your face before devouring your neck with light bites and small kisses.

“Me too, babe” You whined and sunk your nails into the skin on his shoulders, a low grunt escaping his throat at the gesture. “Come for me, Billy” You murmured and grabbed his face, your teeth tugging on his bottom lip as his whole body tensed, his strong orgasm washing over him followed by yours few seconds later.

“Holy shit” The blond moaned as he rested on top of you, still inside you, too lazy to move immediately. “I got—”

“Are you done fucking in here ? We’re leaving in ten !” A loud bang echoed through Billy’s trailer and the sweet and melodious voice of One could be heard. “If you’re late again, I will shoot the both of you myself !”

“Give us a minute !” The blond yelled back, his voice slightly croaky as he still breathless from his previous activities. “Fucking wanker”

“I heard you, Four !” You giggled quietly at One’s answer and sighed when you could hear his footsteps on the sand, signalling he was walking away from the trailer.

“We better get dress” You whispered and pressed a single, loving kiss on Billy’s swollen lips, earning a little groaning. Sex before a mission was probably your favourite. You were both giddy and full of good nerves, fucking them out in the best way possible. “Come on, babe” You pushes away few sweaty locks from his forehead and he gently kissed the inside of your wrist, mouth hiking up higher on your arm. “Billy” Instead of sounding like a warning, it was more like a desperate moan and it made him smirked proudly.

“In few months, we will finally be able to have as much sex as we want…” He dropped his mouth above your chest, his tongue lazily lapping between the valley of breasts, your throat going dry at the incredible feeling. “…without any disturbances…“ He cockily sucked on the love bite he made earlier under your right boob, just on the little mole which he found insanely sexy. You hissed, fingers grabbing his roots roughly. ”…no One…or Two…or Three…zero fucking numbers…“ His lips came back on yours for long, lazy kiss which always made your head spin. ”…just you and me, baby" You sighed loudly, the idea bringing butterflies in your belly.

You and Billy had decide to quit the team at the end of this major mission. It wasn’t an easy decision but it was the right thing to do. You arrived few months after Billy in the team as Eight and the both of you immediately clicked. It was the last thing you excepted when you integrated One’s little team. But only few weeks after you arrived, Billy and you started seeing each other and you never stopped since. You didn’t have family or close friends and you were quite good with a gun and especially with explosives, he made you an offer and you didn’t even think twice before accepting. You never regretted your choice once.

But now, three years later, Billy and you agreed that it was time for a change. But you couldn’t just quit and let the others handle the rest of the job by themselves. You would first finish this job, three more missions were planned to wrap the operation. But the desire to leave was itching through your veins a little bit more everyday. Everything was ready. Passports and new identities. Flights ticket toward Costa Rica. A beautiful house right on the beach. A good amount of cash to survive few years without raising a single finger.

“Three more missions, babe” You whispered, his smile matching yours immediately.

“Three more missions” He repeated with dreamy eyes.

You couldn’t wait to start your new life with Billy by your side.

***********************************************

Mission 1/3.

“Eight, how it’s going ?” You breathed slowly as the voice of One echoing in your earbud, your fingers perfectly stable as your worked on the explosive device.

“Slowly but surely” You murmured quietly as if you spoke louder everything could explode. Which wasn’t possible of course, but you needed all your concentration for the job. “Two more wires to go” You added as you carefully cut a black wire, Five next to you was holding a flash light right on the bomb.

“Copy that. Four and Seven, how is looking up there ?”

Five immediately plugged out your earbud and you murmured a quick thank you. It was one of your rule for this kind of job, you couldn’t listen to Billy because you would just be distracted and then risking stupidly yours and everyone’s life. Sometimes your heart would beat so strongly because of the blond that you couldn’t hear anything else and it was the last thing you needed.

Few more agonisingly long minutes later, you switched back on your earbud and murmured Billy’s favourite words : The bomb is disconnected.

It was for him the most stressful moments of these missions, waiting for you to confirm everything was fine. He was always worried to, instead of hearing you, hear the loud explosion which would result if you failed your mission.

But you never failed.

***********************************************

Your bigger job was over, the bomb wasn’t a danger anymore and you made peoples evacuated the building without really being noticed. Everything was going as it was planned.

“I have my eyes on the target” Three announced with his thick and easily recognisable accent. “Two, mi amor, do you see this hijo de puta ? Leaving through the second elevator”

“I got a visual” The french girl confirmed. “But call me like that one more time and the next bullet is for you, imbecile”

“You never complain when I call you like that in bed, mamacita” Javier was pushing his luck and One let out a little groan, ordering him to focus.

You couldn’t repress a little giggle at their familiar teasing. Javier and Camille were adorably cute and domestic at the base but during mission, Two was dead serious and you knew that Three loved to tease her about that.

Your heart ached a little at their kind of cute interaction and you couldn’t help yourself but checked on your amor.

“Billy, everything’s good on the roof ?” You didn’t let your voice betrayed your worry even if it was obvious for everyone.

“All clear, babe. Seven and his rifle can be quite useful” He always had this cheerful tone and sometimes it was driving you mad because he sounded so reckless. But he also always managed to come back to you.

“I save your ass at least a thousand time, you ungrateful wanker” Blaine chimed in.

“I bet you did, hiding away from the real danger” Billy teased gently and you could hear his quick breathing, indicating that he was running or doing some parkour shits.

“Oh shut the fuck up” Seven groaned and the blond chuckled loudly.

“Alright, Blaine stopped distracting him, he need to focus” You murmured and you could guess Seven was rolling his eyes at your comment.

“Yes, mom” He replied sarcastically.

“You heard the lady, Sniper ? Stop bothering me”

“Asshole”

"Enough, the three of you” One cleared his throat and you immediately complained, claiming your innocence in this stupid quarrel. “Especially you Eight, you’re the one distracting Four” One added, completely ignoring your previous words.

You humphed with annoyance and Billy laughed quietly.

"Can’t argue with that one. She can be very distracting”

***********************************************

You grimaced, the throbbing pain on your cheekbone was making your head spin and you almost throw up at the feeling. Your ankle was also slightly touched, swollen and red but hopefully nothing too serious that few days of rest couldn’t fix. But you didn’t have time for any of that right now, the mission was done but more and more guards were deployed on the building and it was time for you to evacuated quickly.

You were the last one with Five. You lost her somewhere between the third and fourth floor, after a man assaulted you, knocking the butt of his gun right in your face. You managed to take care of him but Amelia was nowhere to be seen. You hoped she was okay, your earbud had fall somewhere during your fight, you couldn’t imagined how Billy must be worried.

“One more floor, come on” You encouraged yourself as all your muscles were sore and begging you to just stop and lay there.

The evacuation was on the roof, a zip line carefully installed by Billy and he already evacuated everyone except the both of you. His worry was growing as you still weren’t here, the sound of shotguns echoed through all the building, not helping his nervousness.

When you finally reached the roof, your gaze frankly searched everywhere for Billy, a relieved sigh leaving your mouth when you saw him, waiting patiently next to the zip line.

"Took you fucking forever, was about to leave” He falsely complained, the relived smile on his face was contradicting his words.

“You wouldn’t dare” You said as you quickly walked toward him before stopping net at the sight of large man right behind him. “BILLY !” You yelled and barely registered his surprise face as the man jumped on him, both of them falling loudly on the floor.

You grimaced as Billy’s head knocked painfully loudly on the concrete, the sound seeming to echoed through your head as you made your best to reach him. You weak ankle was slowing down drastically.

One punch.

Two punch.

At the third punch Billy’s head fell on his side as he spat blood on the floor, his eyes watching you as you came closer.

You didn’t have any more bullet or this fucking asshole would already be dead. The blond tried to take back the control of the situation but he was clearly still a bit dazed from the violent punches he just received. He was struggling to hit him back as his arms were stuck under the big guy, a groan of exasperation and pain falling from his mouth.

When you saw the man grabbing a large knife from his belt, a rush of adrenaline courses through your veins. You literally sprinted there just in time to see the man roughly throwing his weapon toward Billy’s chest, trying to stab him. And he almost did. You let at a strangle cry at the gesture and almost tripped over but thankfully the blond rolled on himself at the last second, avoiding the – probably – deadly stab.

“Don’t touch him, you sick fuck !” You threw yourself on his back, not really your smartest move but you couldn’t think straight when Billy was in danger.

“Get off me, bitch !“ The man tried to dodge him from his back but you didn’t budge and quickly grabbed the thin rope from your belt, wrapped it around his neck and putting as much as pressure as you could.

The man started chocking immediately and Billy didn’t lose a second, pushing himself off the ground and stabbing the man with his own knife, right through his heart. A weak gasp escaped his throat as blood started dripping from the corner of his mouth, Billy quickly helping you get off from under his back.

"You’re okay ?” You immediately cradled his face, checking the bruises already forming on his beautiful face.

“Peachy” He mumbled, hissing quietly as he wiped the fresh blood from the scrap of his forehead. “Thanks to you. Would be dead without you” He added with a little smile as you both walked to the zip line, your hands still shaking at the previous events.

You could have lost him so easily. That was also why you both wanted to stop being part of the team. Always worried about your other significant, wondering if he would make it alive today.

“You scared the shit out of me, Billy” You whined as he quickly and skilfully hooking you to the zip line from the belt you were already wearing. "I thought he was going to…"A sniffle fell from your mouth and you immediately cleared your throat, it wasn’t the time to let the emotions drowned you.

"I know babe” The blond pressed a short kiss on your hairs and hooked himself to the line too as you took a deep breath. You weren’t safe yet. “Let’s go home” You both walked to the edge of the building and you hugged tightly Billy as he jumped off the roof, sliding fast down the safe place where the other were waiting.

***********************************************

General Headquarters of the 6 Underground team.

“How you’re feeling, Nick Fury ?” One snorted as soon as you strolled in the HQ, wearing this stupid patch on your left eye.

“Ha-ha, very funny, One” You rolled your eyes, well your eye and took a seat at the large table, slamming of piece of paper in front of your boss.

“What the fuck is this ?” He asked, a spoonful of cereal crushing loudly under his teeth.

“You said you were going shopping later, I need that” You slid it toward him and threw a quick glance without any real interest.

“Why on earth would I do your shopping ?”

“Because I look like a fucking pirate and I practically can’t walk because of this stupid ankle” You glanced angrily at your foot which forced you to stay in bed for the past five days.

“And what about Skywalker ? Too busy doing nothing ?” One groaned exasperatedly.

“In fact, I’m too busy doing my darlin’ girlfriend” Billy chimed in a he walked in the living-room, biting in an apple. “Maybe you should try and get laid too One, couldn’t hurt you”

You pretend to be annoyed by his comment but your amused smile betrayed you. It was hard to resist his cheeky grin, especially when he was looking so good, all sweaty and just back from the gym.

“You’re fucking gross” One stood up and grabbed your shopping list before leaving the room mumbling quietly.

You and Billy exchanged a fond gaze, knowing that under his shell, the big boss considered all of you like family.

“You’re supposed to be in bed” The blond commented as he walked to you, dropping a little peck on your hairs.

“Yeah but I wake up and you weren’t there anymore” You shrugged and giggled stupidly when he crouched down at your level. “Billy, seriously I can walk to the trailer, it’s not that far”

“Up on my back, missy” You shook your head childishly and watched your boyfriend stood back up, brows arched. “You’re not supposed to put pressure on your ankle, back to bed now” He softly pushed few locks of hair behind your hairs, giving you the sweetest look ever.

His way to convince you to go back lay down on your bed.

“I’ve been laying in bed all week Billy” You whined with a pout. “I’m so done staying in this damn freaking bed. It’s boring” You crossed your arms, remembering that you already asked him three times to go buy a new mattress and still nothing.

“Well I don’t know for you…” He tilted his face close to yours, his lips hovering above your mouth but quite not kissing yet. His warm breath gently caressing your face making you momentarily forgetting about his request. “But I, have few ideas to pass time in this damn freaking bed” His cocky and raspy tone sent a wave of electricity directly to your core, your fingers involuntary curling against your palm.

“Oh yeah ?” You grabbed the hem of his tee-shirt, tugging him closer to you and he smirked wider at your receptiveness. “Like what ?” He slid a finger under your chin and tilted your head toward him before pressing a hot, dirty kiss on your desperate mouth.

“Like…"He broke the kiss but didn’t let go of your bottom lip, tugging at it with his teeth until you hissed, feeling him grinned against you. ”…fucking you face down onto this mattress that you love so much…“ You didn’t even mind the irony about this damn mattress, too occupied with the hotness growing inside your body. "Sound good to you, babe ?” His question was useless and you both knew it. The unsteadiness of your breath and the way your hands were tightly clasped around his forearm were enough hints to understand the situation easily.

But he loved hearing you saying it anyway.

“Yes” You breathed out quietly, his digits rubbing dangerously high on your thigh, each of his stroke deliciously burning your skin.

“Yes what ?” He repeated with a teasing smile, earning a little whine from you.

You should have excepted that from this cocky bastard.

“I want you to fuck me with my face down against the mattress Billy” You repeated and internally cringed about your desperation. “Hard, please”

For all answer he gave a predatory, toothy smile which made your core throbbed with need before grabbing you roughly by the waist, throwing you on his shoulder like a rag doll. You gasped loudly, scolding him for his brusqueness and he only chuckled carelessly, delivering a sharp slap on your covered arse, a little moan leaving your parted lips.

***********************************************

“BILLY !” You screamed his name again and again, trying to reach him but you couldn’t move. “Billy…“ You let out a strangled sob at his pleading eyes looking toward you.

He was being tackled against a wall by a man, a hand tightly wrapped around his neck, applying a strong pressure on it. The lack of air in Billy’s lungs were obvious as his head was slowly turning a worrying shade of red. The little vessels on his eyes were bright red, his eyes popping out of their sockets from the urge to breath.

You could see his hands trying to push away the man from him, little desperate gasps chocking out from his parted lips.

The man decided to move away his hand and instead threw him violently on the floor, kicking his ribs roughly.

Billy coughed loudly, thin dash of blood escaping from his mouth.

"Let him go !” You yelled again, forcing your body to move but a sharp pain on your wrists made you looked down. Ropes. So tightly wrapped around your skin that every little move was burning, atrociously scratching your body.

You looked back at Billy and this time he was on his knees. Arms crossed behind his back, his face covered in bruises and dry blood. You opened your mouth to call him but nothing came out, unable to make a single noise.

The same man from earlier came back, holding a gun in his hand, walking straight for Billy. You eyes widened at the sight and you tried your best to wriggle out of your chains, gaze fixed on your boyfriend.

No, no, no.

Please, no.

Everything went horribly slowly as you watched the man raising the hand holding the deadly weapon, tears obscuring your vision. Billy stayed still, his chest straight as he fixed the man, jaw clenching firmly.

“Are you afraid ?” The man whispered dangerously low, gun pointing directly on his head.

For a split second you locked eyes with the blond before he looked back at the man.

“Never” Billy growled before spitting a bit of blood on the floor, gaze fierce and burning with anger.

The man chuckled darkly. Completely useless, you watched the man’s fingers taking off the security of his gun. The unmistakable sound brought shivers down your spine. You barely noticed the spams in Billy’s jaw because of your whole body was shaking violently.

“Liar” The man murmured with a satisfied smirk, slowly pressing the head off the gun on his forehead.

A strangle sob escaped your throat painfully at the gesture. That caught Billy’s attention. His beautiful green eyes fell on yours, tears silently falling on your cheeks. His lips mouthed something to you but you couldn’t understand it. The loud thumbing of your heart against your rib cage was making your head spin.

The deafening sound of a bullet leaving the gun tore the heavy silence, echoed loudly in your head. And then the noise of Billy’s body collapsing on the ground, the thick smell of powder and iron making you sick.

“BILLY !“

You jolted awake on the mattress, eyes wide opened, sweat dripping from your forehead and heart beating too quickly.

You let out a loud, throaty sob, your whole frame shaking and shivering violently at the vivid memories of Billy’s dead body. You didn’t even notice your movements, rocking yourself in poor attempt of calming your nerves, gaze staring at Billy’s empty side of bed.

You didn’t hear the sound of the door’s trailer opened before two soft hands clasping around your shoulders.

"Baby, what’s going on ? (Y/N), (Y/N) !” You felt someone cradled your face, warm digits stroking your wet cheeks. “Breath with me, baby. Inhale…exhale…just like that, love” You did as he said, feeling your pulse starting to slowing down and your breathing becoming easier.

Several seconds later, you could finally see him. Billy, alive and well, looking worriedly at you.

“You…“ A small cry fell from your mouth and the blond pressed a kiss on his forehead before bringing you against his chest. “You were dead” You breathed out almost painfully, hands desperately grabbing him, the fear that he would disappeared making you sick.

“Still having these nightmares ?” You nodded weakly, nose pressed against his jumper, feeling a little bit more at ease with his familiar scent. “You know I’m not going anywhere, baby. There is no way I’m leaving you alone, love you too much for that” A small hiccup escaped your mouth, bringing Billy to only hug your tighter.

You had absolutely no idea for how long you stayed like that. Minutes ? Hours ? ? All track of time was lost in his strong, safe arms, his lips gently kissed your hairs and murmuring sweet nothing to you until you finally calmed down.

“You were out ?” You mumbled sleepily, head resting in the crook of Billy’s neck, exhaustion growing in your bones.

“Yeah, couldn’t sleep. I went for a run then I heard screaming when I was coming back” He pushed back the bed cover with his free hand and gently moved you under the warm blanket, chuckling softly at your drooping eyelids. “M gonna go for a quick shower, okay ?” He kissed your shoulder as you barely managed to murmur a little okay before settling comfortably in the bed.

Those nightmares weren’t new for neither of you. It was the normal consequences of a constantly dangerous life. Always worrying about each other. About your friends. Wondering if it was your last day truly alive.

For you it was always the same way. You fell asleep and suddenly everything seemed so real that you couldn’t tell if you were awake or no. Usually you were so scared you whole body were just freezing, not able to wake up until either your boyfriend did it or something really intense happened in the dream. Translating by Billy’s death most of the time. Gunshot. Stabbing. Falling. Drowning. And every time you woke up, you were terrified it happened for real one day.

That was mostly why you and Billy were leaving the team. You didn’t want to worry every time you were apart for few hours.

For him, it was different. He couldn’t fall asleep. Someday his mind would race about the dangerousness of the missions you were all doing. The thick tension which wrapped around his body each time you had to take care of explosives. It was a deep, freezing kind of fear running through his veins. He would remember that you would have to do it again and again. He would just lay in bed, making sure you were next to him, keeping his eyes open with the fear of seeing something he didn’t want to if he closed them. So, sometimes he would go for a run, changing his mind or running until he was too exhausted to even think about anything.

Few minutes later, you were fighting the sleepiness drowning you, eyes closing by themselves every two seconds but you wanted to wait for Billy. Too scared to just go back right into this nightmare. You felt the mattress quietly creaked as the blond joined you in bed, switching off the light before sliding under the covers behind you.

“Try to sleep, baby” He murmured lazily, knowing you wouldn’t fall asleep without him. He pressed his chest against your back, one arm sliding under your head and the other one resting gently on your stomach. “Good night, gorgeous” A small kiss dropped on your hairs and you sighed quietly at the gesture, relaxing against his warm frame.

“Two more missions” You quietly said, eyes closed and hand linked with Billy’s one.

“ Two more missions” The blond repeated in a soft sigh, his head resting on top of yours, the sound of his steady heartbeat quickly lulling you to sleep.

2 more missions left.

[sleepydew-valley]

Quarantined Shane: Day 1

So this is a little longer stories, that will have multiple parts. Let’s see how it goes with writing it. Anyway here is the first part. I hope you enjoy it

Farmer: Nico Ganesan, Male Farm: Blueberry farm

The farmer had gone to the ranch, hoping to get some help from Marnie only to find it empty. The ranch was technically open for business but seeing as Marnie was the only employee and she wasn’t home it meant right now it was closed. She would usually get out at specific times, he had learned. But he only remembered she would work out with the other ladies on Tuesdays and today was Friday and he could for life of him not remember where he was supposed to be looking for her.

He rubbed the back of his neck as he wondered if he should wait around. It wasn’t like it was urgent, but the heater in the coop had broken and he needed a new one, or at least some assistance fixing it.

It was days like this he hoped Marnie should post a schedule in her store, if she was going to leave the door open like this. It had been a year since he had come to Pelican Town, but he had only recently acquired his chickens and cows, so he wasn’t too familiar with the animal store.

He was about to turn around and leave when he heard someone yelling.

“Marnie!”

It sounded like Shane. It had to be Shane. The farmer remembered Shane also lived here. He walked into the kitchen. There was a door next to the kitchen counter, where he was sure the yelling had come from.

The farmer walked closer to the door. He knew this was probably Shane’s room, although he had never gotten a tour of the ranch. He knew however, Shane lived closest to the barn and right next to the kitchen. He also knew Marnie’s room was the one right behind the cash register. He had never been beyond the animal store. Although he had talked with Marnie on multiple occasions, it was usually reserved for the animal store or whenever they would run into each other at the saloon. He hadn’t been invited for hangouts at the ranch. Jas was probably the family member of the ranch he was closest to, but even she hadn’t showed her room and quite frankly that would have been a bit odd.

“Marnie!”

“She isn’t here.” He heard himself blurt out but clapped a hand over his mouth. He wasn’t technically allowed back here. Sam had told him about the time where he had gone into the kitchen, only to be yelled at by Shane who didn’t appreciate the trespassing.

“What?” Shane said.

“She’s not here.”

“I’m sorry, but who are you?.” Shane said.

“I’m Nico.”

“Oh.”

Shane sounded disappointed. It could just be his imagination, but then again why wouldn’t Shane be disappointed? It wasn’t like Nico and him were close. In fact, in the entire year Nico had been in Pelican Town, his interactions with Shane had been limited to the “polite introductions” and awkward greetings. Nico had had more interactions with Jas and Nico is sure that’s the only reason Shane was even remotely kind to him. And here kind meant, not snapping at him for talking to him.

“Do you know where she is?” Shane asked.

Nico shook his head but then he remembered Shane couldn’t see him. “No, I’m sorry. I’m looking for her too but she wasn’t here when I arrived.”

“Wait, what time is it?”

“I don’t know, somewhere around two o’clock.” Nico answered.

“She’s at Mayor Lewis. Probably handing over Jas’ things.”

“Oh.” And then Nico thought about what Shane had just said, and the fact they were talking through the door, “Why is Jas at mayor Lewis? I mean… does Jas even like mayor Lewis?”

There was a bit a shuffle behind the door before Shane answered. “No, she doesn’t like him. She thinks he’s weird. But with me quarantined here, she couldn’t stay here, and Sam is also quarantined which means she can’t stay with Vincent either, so Marnie was out of options and she sent her to Lewis.”

Nico would wager there were plenty of other options than Mayor Lewis, but there was probably a reason Marnie had sent Jas there.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear about the quarantine.” The farmer said. “Is it because of JojaMart?”

“Yeah, it sucks.” Shane said. “I don’t mind staying in my room for the next two weeks, but it’s going to be hard not being able to talk to Jas during that time.”

Nico didn’t know what to say. He didn’t have any comforting words to offer. Although he felt compelled to do something to cheer Shane up.  

“Why are you here, by the way?”

“Oh uhm, the heater in the chicken coop broke… and well, the spring nights aren’t quite warm enough for me to ignore it, so I hoped to get some help from Marnie with the repair.”

“Oh, I can help with that.”

“Really?” Nico asked.

“yeah, do you have something to write on, then I can just talk you through the instructions.”

“Hold on, let me get my phone out.”

Shane talked the farmer through how it could be fixed while Nico tired to keep up with writing it down.

***

Nico felt sorry for Shane and Jas. Mayor Lewis was a nice guy, but he was the complete wrong man to have take care of Jas. Not because he wasn’t a good caretaker, but there was no way he would be able to fulfill Jas needs and if Jas wasn’t even afforded the luxury of getting in contact with Shane, then she would surely be miserable the next two weeks. Yes, the farmer was doing this because of Jas. Only for Jas. Would it be a bonus if him and Shane became closer? Sure, but totally not the reason he was doing this.

He knocked on the door the mayor Lewis house. It was only four o’clock. It was Friday. He knew everyone else would go to the saloon soon enough. Mayor Lewis was probably also considering it, unless of course he had to stay home with Jas. He wondered what kind of arrangement had been made when Marnie had agreed to let Lewis take care of Jas.

He should’ve expected Marnie besides Mayor Lewis when the door was opened before him. This was probably why Lewis was chosen. However, they both looked confused to see him at the door.

“I’m here because I heard Jas was staying here.” Nico explained. “and I have something exciting to show her back at the farm.”

Jas hadn’t looked particularly excited about being here. In fact, it was clear she didn’t like her new living arrangements. But she perked up at the mention of her name.

“Oh, what is it?” Marnie asked.

“… oh well, I got the greenhouse repaired and was able to plant a bunch of fairy roses. And I know how much she loves them.”

Jas quickly ran over and tucked in Marnie’s dress.

“Can I go?” she asked excitedly.

Marnie looked hesitant about it but when Lewis mentioned they could go for a beer at the Saloon in the meantime, she was quick to agree. She of course made all kinds of instructions of what not to do and made Nico promise to take good care of her.

As Nico and Jas were walking away from the house, Jas looked up at him and asked, “Are we really going to see fairy roses?”

He crouched down beside Jas. ”Actually Jas, there are no fairy roses-”

“but-but you said… you said-” her bottom lip started to quiver and he started to panic.

He made a note to himself to never lie to a six-year-old again, even if it was in her best interest.

“No- no I’m taking you to something better-” dear Yoba, he hoped she considered Shane to be better than fairy roses- “but you have to keep it a secret, okay?”

She wiped her eyes and nodded. Although she still looked slightly sad, she looked intrigued by the idea of being let in on a secret. They walked all the way over to the ranch.

“What are we doing here?” Jas said.

“I’m taking you to see Uncle Shane!” The farmer quickly said.

Her eyes lit up instantly. The farmer was sure he saw her vibrating on the spot.

“Really? Aunt Marnie said I wouldn’t be able to see for the next to two weeks. She said something about being sick-”

Again, the farmer crouched down to his level. “Jas, you know how some people will get the flu?” she nodded. “Well there is this different kind of flu, which is much more contagious-”

“kon-ta-jus?”

“It’s much easier for someone else to get sick because of it. And it is more dangerous than the common flu.” The farmer said.

“So, Uncle Shane is that sick?! Aunt Marnie-”

“No-no-no!” he was explaining all this poorly. “Uncle Shane is okay. But to be safe, he is put in isolation so no one else risks getting this. This is for your sake, okay?”

She nodded understandingly. The farmer wondered just how much of this Aunt Marnie had explained to Jas.

“So we can’t go inside his room to see him, but instead we’re going to stand outside his window and talk with him. You’re okay with that?”

She nodded eagerly. He stood up again and then guided her to the back of the ranch. He hadn’t known which window was Shane’s but it didn’t take too long to find guessing from his knowledge of the interior of the house.

He stopped in front of the window that belonged to Shane’s room. He noticed Shane was lying on his bed, reading in a book. He wondered to wait a moment to get a good look at which book it was, but Jas was impatiently waiting besides him. He gently tapped on the window

Shane jumped at the sound and looked towards the window. He looked puzzled, but he still got up from the bed and walked over to window. Jas was too short to be seen through the window but once he got closer and she came into his view, his expression changed completely.

The farmer held up his phone against the window with his number written on the screen. Shane fumbled as he  immediately pulled out his own phone and called Nico’s phone.

As Nico answered the phone, he instantly put it on speaker.

“Hey pumpkin, I’m so glad to see you.”

“Nico brought me here!” She said excitedly.

Jas was practically bounding as she started to talk about the things that had happened that day and how angry she had been with her Aunt Marnie about moving to Mayor Lewis house, and how sad she had been when she was told she wouldn’t be able to see her Uncle Shane for awhile. She complained at length about living with Mayor Lewis and how he didn’t even have a TV or phone or anything fun, and she hadn’t been allowed to bring a lot of her toys. She complained about how the 6 pm curfew still applied, but they refused to take her anywhere interesting and they were no fun to play with at home. Even though she had only stayed there a few hours, she already hated living there. Nico felt for her and knew the next two weeks were going to be awful for her.

Shane just listened as she talked. He tried to calm her down, but no words made her feel better about living there and instead he opted to complain about Mayor Lewis with her. He sounded a bit sincere in his trashing of the Mayor that Nico wondered if Shane had anything against him. Nico imagined that Shane wasn’t particularly fond of the relationship between Lewis and Marnie.

But he looked incredibly relaxed when talking to Jas. It was few times Nico had seen interactions between the pair, but he always felt a tug in his heartstrings whenever he saw the look Shane had reserved just for Jas. No one else was able to bring this side out of him. In fact, everyone in town only got to see him as the rude drunk. At least few people bothered interacting with him after the first few tries.

“Okay, Jas we have to go back before Marnie starts to wonder where you are.”

Jas looked slightly disappointed, and Nico wished he didn’t have to take her away, but Aunt Marnie had been very specific with the time he had to be back with Jas and he didn’t want to push it. If he had to be able to bring her here again, he had to abide by Marnie’s rules. Jas knew as much as well, at least she didn’t complain, and she said goodbye to Shane. Nico assured it wouldn’t be the last time they would be back here and promised to bring her back here whenever she wanted.

He hung up on the phone and was about to walk away, but Shane had tapped on the window and Nico knew he couldn’t resist turning around to see what Shane had to say.

He mouthed a thank you with a smile Nico had never seen him direct him.

[gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights]

Rating: T

Summary: Luka is just minding his own business. XY is just hanging from the side of his boat.  Of course XY isn't going to shut up and leave him alone... but maybe that's not entirely a bad thing.

Word Count: 1843 | Chapter 1/4

Notes: Special thanks to Janai and Maddy for beta reading for me!! And being inspirations bc I wouldn’t ship this otherwise lol.  Luxy rights [dabs]

XXX

“C’mon, man, please!  This place is such an unsexy trash heap, she’ll never think to look for me here!”

Luka blinked down at XY from the Liberty’s deck.  Straight down, because the other boy was currently dangling from the side of the ship.  How had he even gotten there?  Tried to jump?  They had a plank, but he hadn’t bothered to ask Luka to lower it.  Luka probably wouldn’t have known he was there if he hadn’t watched his face smush against his bedroom porthole.

The smart thing might have been to ask “what are you doing here,” or maybe even “what makes you think I’ll do you any favors?”  But XY would probably have an easier time answering questions when he wasn’t hanging on by his manicured fingertips.

“Fine.”  He reached a hand down to haul him up.

“Woah!”  XY exclaimed at being yanked on deck.  Luka didn’t know why he was surprised.  He weighed almost as little as Marinette.

He dusted off his purple jacket with a sneer.  “Gross, I think I touched a barnacle.”

“We don’t have barnacles.”  Only because Officer Roger made them scrape the hull once a month, but still.  “You mind telling me why you’re here?”

“Pshaw, yeah.”  He plopped down in one of the folding chairs and crossed his feet on the table like he owned the place.  Unsurprising, considering his attitude said he owned everything.  Including his music and Marinette’s designs.

Even though they’d appeared on Bob Roth’s show in the end, that sting never entirely went away.  Maybe it was because it was his first (and only) time being akumatized, but the negative emotions still hung in the air like a discordant note.

Or maybe it was because music was meant to come from the heart, and Luka wasn’t convinced XY even had one.

He sighed and shook his head.  It wouldn’t do any good to confront the boy again and risk another akumatization.

He settled down cross-legged in the chair farthest from XY, where he could still keep an eye on him, but not hear his obnoxious humming quite so clearly.  Maybe working on Marinette’s melody would soothe some of his irritation away.

He was only three chords in when XY started talking.

“Do you know that blonde girl from the hotel?  The mayor’s kid?”

Luka blinked blankly.

“Her name’s er—Cole?  Clover?”

“Chloe?  I think Marinette’s talked about her.  Why?”

“Aaaaanyway, that girl’s been on my tail ever since we started staying at the hotel.  She’s probably my biggest fan.”

“Good for you,” he replied in monotone, strumming a few more chords.  Maybe a D minor would work there…

“No!  Awful for me!  She wants to take me out for pasta.  I don’t even like pasta!  Or girls!”

Luka blinked at that last bit.  “Can’t you just tell her that?”

“Ugh, I wish.”  He sighed, flopping his arms over the sides of the chair so they dangled against the deck.  “Dad says I can’t come out because it’ll be bad for my image.  The only thing I’m good for is my pretty face.”  

He said it like it was a fact.  Something about that turned Luka’s stomach.  He couldn’t imagine hiding being bi from his family.  Juleka knew she was lesbian practically since she was born, which made it a bit easier too, and it wasn’t like their mom cared either way.  

“Music should be about who you are on the inside, not just the way you look,” he said.  “Hiding such an important part of who you are must make it difficult to hear the melodies in your heart.”

XY snorted.  “Not sure what kind of hippie crap you’re talking about.”

Why was he even bothering?  They weren’t friends.  But still, this was the longest conversation he’d had with anyone outside of Juleka’s friends in… he couldn’t remember.

“Why did you tell me this, anyway?”  He asked, shaking off the thought.

“You asked why I was here.  Duh.”  XY dug some wax out of his ear and flicked it on the deck.

“But you said—nevermind.”  

Unsure how else to react, Luka readjusted his guitar and tried to pick up Marinette’s melody again.  But his fingers stumbled over the strings, refusing to press the right frets.

What did it mean that XY had come out to him of all people, when he otherwise wasn’t allowed to?  Didn’t he have anyone else to share his struggles with?  Or was he just trying to draw on Luka’s sympathy to keep him from kicking him off the boat?

Probably that last one.  After all, it didn’t seem like XY even knew this was Luka’s house when he showed up.

“I thought you were supposed to be good,” XY scoffed when Luka butchered another chord.

“I’m just playing the song in your heart.  It’s not my fault you’re out of tune.”

The boy blinked, as if no one had called out like that before.  Luka hadn’t even meant to, really—he should’ve just kept his mouth shut and let his music do the talking.

“I think my heart song needs more bass drops.”

“Wh—that’s what you’re concerned with?”

“Uh, yeah?  Your heart might be a boring guitar solo, but I’ve gotta have some kind of beat.”

Luka just sighed and shook his head.  “Play your own heartsong, then.”

If that was supposed to make XY shut up, it failed miserably.

“Huh.  Sounds like your weird hippie stuff again.”

Luka didn’t point out that he had been the one to argue what his heartsong would sound like in the first place.

“Dad wouldn’t want to hear something like that, anyway,” he mumbled.  “Can’t top the charts with mushy junk.”

“Is that all you care about?  Being number one?”

XY looked at him like he was stupid.  “Yeah.  Why else would I make music?”

Something in his gut twisted.  It was just so wrong, to hear someone talk about music like that.  

“Because you enjoy it?  Because it lets you express yourself?”  

XY snorted.  “Maybe that works for you.  I can’t… it just doesn’t work like that.”

“Have you tried?”

“Yeah!”

Luka jumped at the anger in XY’s voice.  It was nothing like the nasally drawl he was used to.  

His blue eyes flashed with regret before he settled back in the chair. “...Sorry.  That wasn’t very cash money of me.”

XY?  Apologizing?  What kind of nerve had he touched?

“...It’s okay, I guess,” Luka mumbled back.

XY scoffed and ran a hand through his gelled mess of hair.  “This was stupid.”

“What?”  This whole situation was stupid, but probably not for the reasons XY thought.

“You’ve just—you’ve got all kinds of ideas.”

“Yeah?  So?”  Not everyone’s head could be as empty as his.

Luka received another of XY’s are you stupid stares, which was pretty ironic considering which one of them had been hanging off the side of the boat a few minutes ago.

“My dad, no matter what he says—he hates ideas.”

Luka shrugged.  “Sounds like he doesn’t know much about music, then.”

“No, he knows everything about music.  What sells, what doesn’t.  So when he said my original music sucked—I knew he was right.”

“That’s…” That’s terrible didn’t cut it, just like it hadn’t cut it earlier.  He shouldn’t care; it wasn’t like he owed XY his sympathy.  Heck, he didn’t even like him.  

But when it came to having your music rejected… he could only imagine what it would be like to have a family member deny such an important part of his soul.

He might have said that out loud, if the moment hadn’t been broken by a voice from the street.

 “XY!  Where are you?  Stop being utterly ridiculous and come back!  You said you were going to show me your new song!”

“I didn’t say that,” XY hissed, pressing himself flat against the chair.

Luka sat up a bit straighter to see the blonde girl searching the street, her ponytail whipping back and forth.

“I’m guessing that’s Chloe,” he said.

XY clasped his hands together and made a face that was probably supposed to be puppy eyes.  It would’ve worked a lot better if he stopped making those duck lips.

“Don’t rat me out, man, please!  I know you don’t like my music, but you wouldn’t make me—”

“Please, just—shut up.”  Luka rubbed his temples.  XY was going to give himself away by talking that loud.

For once, he actually listened.  Chloe’s shouts rang out for a few more seconds before she decided he must not be at the riverside.

XY heaved a giant sigh.  “Pretty cash money of you to hide me.  I’d better get back now.  Got some new holograms to touch up.”

“You make your own holograms?”

“Pshaw, no.  Dad has people for that.  They like seeing my gorgeous face while they’re at it though.”

Yeah, he should’ve seen that coming.  He didn’t know why even now, he kept holding out hope that XY would show some trace of the real music inside his heart.  Maybe he really was just a tinny pop beat—but when he’d spoken about his dad, he almost sounded like he had a soulful rock ballad hiding under the surface.

Probably just wishful thinking.

XY stood up, brushed off his butt as if the Liberty’s “unsexy garbage” clung to him, and looked over the railing.

“So. Uh.  How do I get off?”

Luka rolled his eyes.  At least he hadn’t jumped off into the river.

“Let me get the plank.”

When he got done rolling the walkway over the edge of the boat to the street, he straightened back up and jumped.

“Didn’t anyone teach you about personal space?”  He glared at XY, whose blue eyes were just inches from his.  They might’ve been pretty if they weren’t so close he could barely see.

Then, as if this day couldn’t get any weirder, XY planted a smooch on his cheek.

“What the heck are you doing?”  Luka moved to wipe the spit off his face, but XY grabbed his wrist first.

“I just increased your face’s net worth by like, a billion euros!  As thanks for getting me out of that jam.  If you’re gonna wipe it off, at least sell the rag on ebay or something.”  He winked.

“I should’ve left you on the side of the boat where you were hanging.”

“But you didn’t.”  

XY, being… himself, almost fell into the river while throwing his hand sign from the plank.  

Luka snorted and shook his head.  At least watching him make a fool of himself was entertaining.

“See you next time I need to hide from Cole.  So probably like, tomorrow.”

“I didn’t invite you back.  I didn’t invite you the first time.”

“Like you’d say no to the number one chart topper in Paris.”

“Number two.”

“Still not a no.  See ya, Lucky!”

“It’s Luka!”

“Luke, right!”

Luka groaned.  That boy was the human equivalent of an out-of-tune trumpet.

But his eyes still followed him down the street until he was out of sight.

[twilighteve-writes]

Quiet Your Thoughts and Love Fiercely

Summary: Scrooge McDuck hated magic. It was something he never bothered concealing from other people, least of all his family. But his family had magic, and that was impossible to deny.

Scrooge, and his relationship with the magic his family carried.

(Also available in AO3)

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Scrooge McDuck hated magic.

It was something he never bothered concealing from other people, least of all his family. He found magic to be some sort of a cheater’s trick, getting things others (he) had to work hard on. He didn’t like how some people could play tricks with others’ heads either – he didn’t know that Goldie’s charm was a form of magic, at first, but he never liked it when she smiled at him and he felt like a curtain fell and smothered his thoughts until it grew fuzzy and he only had eyes for her. It was only later that he realized he was one of the few who could resist her charm, and that she enjoyed her time being herself around him.

So, there. He didn’t like magic. It brought nothing but trouble. End of discussion.

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No, not end of discussions. Apparently his grand nephews all had magic, and Donald knew him enough to know he hated magic and told the kids, who then decided not to tell him until the worst possible time. Knowing they had magic from Magica de Spell of all people was not how he would have preferred to find out.

But they had magic, and that was impossible to deny. Huey’s constant warmth, Dewey’s quick zaps, and Louie’s nose for gold suddenly made sense, like the last pieces of puzzle he never knew he needed to make sense of them.

He put on a smile, told them it was alright, and tried to go on with his life.

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“You’re a liar, Uncle Scrooge,” Donald said quietly, after he tucked the boys to sleep and said goodnight to Webby. Here, in the mess of his study, he couldn’t hide the truth anymore.

“I’m not a liar,” he tried anyway.

“You don’t like the kids’ magic,” Donald pointed out.

“I’d rather lie than tell them I don’t like their magic,” he said, finally dropping pretenses.

“They’re smart kids. They’ll know sooner or later.” Donald tilted his head. Scrooge felt the brush of ocean waves against his fingers – it must have been his imagination. “What will you do when they find out?”

Scrooge sighed. “I… don’t want to deny them something they clearly treasure,” he admitted, and pretended he didn’t see Donald straighten in surprise. “I just need more time to process this.”

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Huey carried his fire to light their way while exploring, readily providing warmth when the cold started to creep in. Dewey soon gained enough control over his lightning to start helping with engines, electronics, and knocking out beasts when they came to harm them. Louie’s quiet magic helped them chart their course and determine where else to explore.

Scrooge hid behind a smile and told them they did a good job, feeling his chest warming at the way they preened proudly and ignoring the stab of something ugly that snarled in his head, telling him he was a liar, liar, liar, he hated magic and he was lying, ignoring the way Donald watched him from the sidelines while keeping an eye on the kids.

Scrooge pushed the ugly thing down and snarled back. He didn’t like magic, but he loved his family much more than that.

Part of him still wondered if it was better if none of them had magic.

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He met with Goldie, under the shades of the trees around Killmotor Hill after her excursion with Louie. He was baffled by the fact that she had been put in glass box as a display of sorts, but honestly, he shouldn’t have been surprised. The triplets may be smart and capable but each of them were also wholly capable of attracting their own kinds of trouble. If anything, this should have been expected.

“He’s an interesting one, that Louie,” Goldie said fondly. “He reminds me of you, you know? You both feel precious.”

He blinked. “Both?”

“Your nephew told me about this earlier. He said I have magic,” Goldie said, then she let out a sound that was halfway a laugh and halfway a sigh. “It answers so many questions I didn’t even know I had. No wonder you always felt like gold.”

“I’m sorry, what.”

It was one of the rare moments that Goldie looked like that, like she knew she slipped and there was no fixing it. “Whoops,” she muttered. “Donald told me you didn’t know.”

“Are you telling me I have magic, too?” Scrooge asked.

“Yes,” Goldie said, light, as if she hadn’t just dropped a verbal bomb in Scrooge’s face. “It’s very subtle, though. Almost as if it’s not there at all. But it is there if you bother to look for it, just under the surface.” She frowned in thought. “Well, Louie can consciously control his. You obviously don’t. Maybe yours is more… passive.”

Scrooge thought it over, and blanched. “Are all the riches I’ve gotten from the blasted magic, then?!”

“Hey, it’s an advantage that’s barely even there. Take whatever you can take.” She shrugged. “Besides, it’s not like they don’t struggle, still, or meet their own challenges.”

“Is this why I always know how much money is in the bin?!”

Goldie threw her head back and laughed, loud and unrestrained, and he found himself deflating, sighing and smiling softly. It was almost worth the wad of cash she somehow swindled out of his pocket.

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Della came back, living and breathing and not dead like he’d thought. In fact, she looked more or less healthy considering she spent a decade on the moon.

She also sported a metal leg and breathed white mist and defied gravity with the wind becoming her wings. He warped his disdain for magic into a smile that didn’t quite take root and forced it on, then let go of the mask in the privacy of his room as he thought things through.

When the Moonlanders invaded, Donald revealed his own magic, the very ocean singing in his blood and bending to his will. Scrooge realized, then, that the kids in his care all had magic of their own.

He stepped back from the dislike for magic, thought it over. Goldie’s words rang in his head. It’s not like they don’t struggle, still, or meet their own challenges. They still did. Only, the struggles and challenges were… different. Not ones people without magic would have expected.

It would take some getting used to, but Scrooge refused to let his dislike for magic drive him away from his family.

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Della had sky-related magic, he found. She reminded him of gliding in the air, feeling the exhilaration of letting the wind caress his face. Donald, meanwhile, had sea-related magic, and he very much reminded him of diving into the deep blue. Lately, when they were around each other, he would wonder why he was reminded of the sun setting in the sea, the ocean meeting the sky as the horizon expanded.

Huey’s fire magic brought warmth and light to them all. Dewey’s electricity magic was as active as the owner, zapping around and demanding attention. Louie’s gold magic almost felt like it was trying not to get noticed, somehow, but the glow was too bright, the call of something precious too strong. Around each other, Louie’s cold magic mingled with Dewey’s entirely-too-active one, steadied only by Huey’s warmth, and reached an equilibrium of sorts.

Webby said she didn’t have magic, not really, and Scrooge believed her – she was never much of a liar. But her bracelets worked like magic, granting barriers and giving him feeling of reassurance and safety, and it might as well had been woven with magic.

(Later, he would realize Gladstone’s extreme luck was a kind of magic in itself, and Fethry’s ability to seemingly understand whatever animal chittered to him, how critters of all sorts gravitated to him… that was most likely magic, too.)

Scrooge took a deep breath and committed each magic into his mind. He didn’t like magic, but he had learned to tolerate it, and he understood how they could be beneficial.

He would learn to accept it, bit by bit,.

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He found out about the Void Ring during his excursion to the bin’s library, flipping about and trying to find an adventure in the making in his boredom. It was one of those artefacts with little information, with rumors flying about it without giving anything concrete. Some of them stated the ring would bring fortune to the wearer, another said it would bring misfortune, yet another claimed it would bring swift and painful death or scraped the wearer clean of their powers.

Curious.

He studied the maps and charted a possible course. Mentally, he ran calculations for resources he would need.

The decision to go after the Void Ring wasn’t one he had difficulty to make.

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More stories about the Void Ring came in to him, later. One of the most notable ones mentioned corrosion to magic, corrupting it, and scraping it away. Scrooge’s drive to get the ring solidified immediately at that. He would never risk his enemies finding out about the ring and taking it to bring his kids down, to strip them of their advantages.

An ugly part of him that grew quieter each day whispered suggestion to him, telling him that he hated magic, still, and he only wanted to make them normal. He smothered that ugly part viciously, forcing it to silence. He loved his family and he would accept their magic, by force if necessary.

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The Void Ring sat somewhere in a temple atop a tall cliff overlooking the sea, broken down and in ruins. The crumbled stones above seemed to go well with the jagged rocks below, the roar of the wind above singing in tandem with the rush of the waves below, sky and sea caught in a duet that was as eternal as it was ethereal.

Della landed the plane by the ruins – there was broad enough land to do so. With the wind whipping wildly, she didn’t trust Launchpad to do such delicate a landing. Launchpad didn’t mind; if anything, he watched how she handled the controls eagerly, like a little boy learning by sight.

Scrooge doubted he would be able to do a smooth landing the way Della did, though. Judging by the white mist leaving her beak as she breathed, she had called to her magic to help calm the winds as she let the plane touch down to earth, as delicate as a songbird landing lightly on a perch. More advantages magic had over the mundanes, he noted quietly.

“Let’s all go inside,” Scrooge said, inviting the twins, triplets, Webby, and Launchpad to follow him. “And be careful.”

“Oh, man, this is so exciting!” Launchpad exclaimed, bouncing at the balls of his heels like a child. “It’s so rare that I get to join your expedition. Thank you, Mr. McDee!”

“I’m inviting you because we might need more muscle power,” Scrooge pointed out, gesturing to the ruins. And they really didn’t need to worry much about the safety for the plane, since the temple ruins was cut off from civilization.

“Still! Thanks a lot, Mr. McDee!”

Launchpad’s enthusiasm was clearly contagious, and it didn’t take long for him to pull the triplets and Webby into his orbit, chattering excitedly about superheroes in their town. Scrooge noted how Launchpad fumbled around Gizmoduck and Darkwing Duck’s names, and how Huey, Dewey, and Webby were careful to use Gizmoduck’s hero name. So within that group Louie was probably the only one who didn’t know Gizmoduck was also Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera.

What had that man been doing? How did four out of five people in Scrooge’s immediate contact knew his identity? He did a good job with his hero work, and he was a smart man if he could secure his workplace under Gyro, but Scrooge wondered if there was something lacking in the common sense department if he found it so hard to keep a secret identity. Just one or two people knowing, he could understand. But four out of five? How many more knew about it?

He shoved that thought aside. That was problem for later. Right now, he had a ring to find.

The orb he shoved into his pocket before they went on the trip weighed on his side. That traitorous part whispered, cheater, cheater, you don’t like magic but you’re cheating, you hypocrite. He shoved it aside and continued his trek.

There was something he probably needed to pay attention to, though, and that was how Della and Donald stayed silent but sent each other looks constantly, and how Louie would, from time to time, glance at them with a mixture or confusion and wariness in his eyes. He didn’t understand why he kept getting impressions of the sea and the sky. Was it because where the temple was located?

As they descended a stone stairway down to the earthen crevices of the temple, Donald suddenly whipped his head to Della, a scandalized look in his eyes, while Della threw her head back, laughing raucously. “Della, ew!” Donald yelled, which only seemed to drive Della to laugh harder.

“Mom, Uncle Donald, what are you doing?” Louie asked before Scrooge could. “Why do your magic keep rising?”

“What? I thought they keep buzzing strongly but they weren’t using magic?” Dewey looked at Della and Donald in clear confusion.

Della’s laughter died, but the grin was still in place. “Oh no, no, we were just talking.”

“You weren’t talking,” Huey pointed out.

“Absolutely no word has been exchanged,” Webby added.

Launchpad gasped. “Oh man, do you have twin telepathy?!”

Donald opened his mouth to answer, paused to think, and turned to Della. “Yes and no?”

“Yes and no,” Della agreed. “It’s less telepathy and more communicating with magic.”

Huey’s beak fell open. “You can do that?!”

“Sure you can! You just have to send messages while you flare out your magic a bit, like this, see?” Della looked pointedly at Huey, and Scrooge knew immediately that she was doing the poking equivalent of magic to the boy. The boy jolted in surprise, but then he frowned.

“Uhhh, you were just poking me?”

“What? No, I tried to tell you I’m thinking about tacos,” Della said. “Right, Don?”

“Yeah, I got the impression clear as day,” Donald agreed. “Lemme try – “ he directed his gaze to Dewey, then Louie. Dewey just blinked in confusion, while Louie squinted.

“I can feel you flaring your magic at me, but that’s about it,” Louie admitted.

“That’s weird, that was clearly sushi,” Della tapped her foot in thought. “Launchpad, Webby, Uncle Scrooge. Can you get anything from me?” she asked, staring at them each.

Launchpad scratched his head. “Is this supposed to work like a radio or something? I got nothing.”

“Um, yeah, same,” Webby agreed.

Della turned to Scrooge expectantly. He shook his head; he had felt wind brushing his face, but that was about it.

“Huh,” Della glanced at Donald. “I guess it is a form of telepathy, then.”

“You can communicate using magic,” Scrooge summed up. It was… surprising, to say the least.

“Yeah. It’s a new thing,” Donald said. “We only started recently.”

“So… what, you talk using your magic?” Huey asked. “How?”

“Well, we can’t talk using magic,” Della explained. “Not like we talk right now. It’s mostly just impressions and feelings, and some visuals if we really concentrate on it. And then we fill in the blanks with context clues and stuff.”

“Charades, but with magic,” Donald said. He turned to the Dewey. “I thought you can tell people’s feelings through their magic.”

“Only sometimes. And it’s pretty rare.” Dewey shook his head. “And it’s not their magic I feel, it’s their field. Like this sort of static around people.”

“Yeah, and also, I can sort of tell if Dewey or Louie is upset or something through their heat but it’s not straight up charades with magic,” Huey pointed out.

“Oh. I thought it’s the whole package,” Della mused.

“Nope, nothing like that.” Louie leaned forward. “Wait, so, you can do telepathy? Like genuine twin telepathy?”

“And it’s a new development! Oh my gosh, can you imagine what sort of thing you can communicate once you’ve developed it fully?” Webby bounced in excitement, eyes gleaming. Despite not having magic, other’s magical developments seemed to always lift her to the sky.

“Oh, I can imagine something,” Della wiggled her brows and sent Donald a look. Donald choked and returned the look, and Della gagged. “Ew! Why did you send me that visual of a fish?!”

“Because you’re being gross, that’s why,” Donald huffed. “Shouldn’t we keep going to get that ring already?”

His words elicited a chorus of oh, right from the kids and Launchpad, and they proceeded to walk down. Just as Donald took a step down, Scrooge pulled his sleeve lightly and sent Della a look.

“Is this why Duckworth’s been telling me you two were up at ungodly hours drinking coffee and eating brownies in the kitchen?” he whispered lowly to them.

Donald grew rigid upon hearing his words, and Della giggled nervously. “Up at ungodly hours? Who’d be up at ungodly hours?”

“He mentioned you two discussing nightmares,” Scrooge pressed.

Della groaned into her hands. Donald relaxed again, but he muttered under his breath, “snitch.”

“Come on. With how the boys handled their magic, I know it’s easy to lose control of it. If this is a new development, you probably have even less control. Did you share nightmares?” Scrooge prodded. “What about, stuck on the moon? Stuck on an uninhabited island?”

“How are you so perceptive about this?” Della hissed.

“I practically raised you.”

Donald rubbed his temple. “It’s… fine. We’re handling it.”

“Being up at midnight drinking coffee and eating brownies by the tins isn’t my definition of fine or handling it.” Scrooge frowned.

“No, we really are,” Della insisted. “It’s just that… here’s the thing, individually, the nightmares aren’t that bad. Seriously, we might wake up from a bad dream once a week or something, but it’s not the sort of thing that’s, uh… debilitating, or anything.”

Donald sighed. “That’s why I said we’re fine.”

“The problem is more on, um, our magic reacting to each other?” Della twiddled her thumb, then jumped in to the explanation. “I don’t know, I think we unconsciously reach to each other’s magic when sleeping and it might tap into our fears or whatever, because I sure don’t want to be stranded on the moon and separated from my family again. And our magic mingling in sleep might have made some sort of reaction that pushes that worries out to the front or something and made it worse. We don’t know whose magic started it but the end result is that we both share the nightmare and the nightmares occur more frequently.”

“It’s manageable. We made sure to sleep far away from each other. That helps,” Donald added stubbornly.

Ah, these kids. So stubborn. Scrooge sighed and let go of Donald’s sleeve. “Just tell me if it gets worse. We’ll think of something.”

“…like what?” Della asked reluctantly. You can’t use magic, she didn’t say, you won’t understand it. And we barely understand this.

Scrooge brushed aside the stuffy feeling in his chest to reply, “Therapy, perhaps. I heard sleep coaches is an actual profession these days. Sleeping pills, if it comes down to it.” He gripped his cane until his fingers felt numb. “Anything to help.”

“Thanks, Uncle Scrooge, but we probably just need to have this telepathy thing handled,” Donald assured. “We don’t have as many nightmares after we started communicating. This is basically just us practicing.”

“We’ve been keeping the topic light and PG-13, too, since we didn’t know the kids couldn’t tell – “ Della stopped and grinned at Donald. “Oh, we can do so much more now that we know the kids can’t tell.”

Donald snickered. “Stop sending me those right now, we’re descending the stairs, I don’t want to slip and fall.”

“What… have you been communicating about?” Scrooge hedged.

“Things little kids should never know about,” Della whispered teasingly.

“That’s a joke, she’s mostly sending me pinup art visuals, nothing weird,” Donald assured.

“Oh, do you want something more risqué? Something raunchy?” Della snickered.

“Della, you’re the last person I want to discuss something like that with. Can we discuss R-rated horror movies instead?”

“Ooo, that’s an idea.”

A parental side of Scrooge that rarely piped up wanted to tell the twins that no, they weren’t allowed to that, but then again they were over thirty and well into their adulthood and it wasn’t his place to tell them what to discuss with each other anymore. It wasn’t like they were planning to murder someone. He sighed, “Just keep that from the kids, they’re probably not mature enough for that.”

“Sure, Uncle Scrooge.”

From the staircases below, Dewey gasped. “Wait! Does this mean Mom and Uncle Donald can share memes without having to use a phone?!”

Scrooge’s mind blanked out. “What’s a meme?”

Dewey gasped in affront, and the rest of the walk down devolved into teach-Scrooge-about-the-dank-memes session that Scrooge honestly still couldn’t understand. What was so funny about a child running around holding a knife and a president telling people to perish? What even was the context? He wasn’t even sure he wanted to touch on frog on unicycle.

By the time they got to the bottom of the stairs, Dewey had gotten Huey, Louie, and Webby worked up enough to join him talking about memes, Launchpad threw in some memes of his own, and Donald and Della was back to using their magic to communicate, snickering all the time. And Scrooge was more lost than ever. It was honestly a blessing to finally enter the massive circular room and see the stone pillar at the middle of it.

The circular room was once beautiful from the looks of it. Temple priests might have tried to paint the wall with whatever deities they worshipped, but the paint – probably not long lasting to begin with – had gone muddy and the lines of the art smeared until there was no distinction over what was depicted anymore. The multiple doorways leading to the room were decorated with what were now broken seashells, crumbled to dust, and tarnished gold and silver. The wall and ceiling formed a dome, and at the centermost of the dome was a circle of the same tarnished gold and silver, which might have gleamed under Huey’s firelight once upon a time.

The single stone pillar was decorated with the same crumbling shells and dull, lackluster metal that spiraled up to the top. It was more of a pole than anything, thick enough for him to hug without having his fingers meet, now that Scrooge thought more of it, as it didn’t connect with the ceiling. It stopped three quarters of the way up, with a platform at the top, and a miniature temple of its own. Scrooge squinted at the small temple.

Louie looked around. “I’m surprised there are no traps around,” he noted.

“The Void Ring is an obscure enough object, I suppose,” Scrooge admitted. “And the temple priests most likely did not think it was necessary to put traps. The big cliff that cut the temple off from the rest of the world has been there since basically forever, and the legends did say that only fools would want to take the ring.”

“Then why are we being the fools who want to take the ring?” Louie asked warily.

Scrooge blinked. “Precaution,” he settled at last, and turned his attention away before Louie could ask what precaution he was talking about. “It seems the ring is up there, in that small temple. I don’t think we can climb the pillar. I’m not sure it’s sturdy enough for us to do so.”

“I can fly up there and take the ring,” Della volunteered.

“We don’t know how it will react with your magic,” Scrooge protested.

“I’ll throw it down if anything bad happens. I’ll be fine,” she said with a smile. She looked up and breathed, and mist of white bloomed around her as she floated up, suspended by the very air. “I’ll be back soon.”

The summoned winds carried Della up, and she circled the pillar as she went, then hovered by the small temple. She peered into it, studying it. Her hand reached out to touch it, slow and deliberate.

There was a silver flash, bright, just above the platform. Della cringed back, the white mist around her disappearing for a split second and she slipped down. She regained the white mist and her buoyancy on the air immediately, but the split second lurch was enough to send Scrooge’s heart hammering against his ribcage. He watched Della fly higher, just a little bit, then she bent to pick something on the platform.

“Uncle Scrooge, is the ring silver with a black stone?” Della asked.

“Yes!”

“Okay, I think I got it,” she announced, finally picking up the ring from the platform. She floated back from the platform, looking down to them with a smile, ready to fly back down and land on solid ground.

Then her smile froze on her beaks, and again the white mist disappeared. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she gasped as gravity took hold and she plummeted to the ground, barely even a sound from her mouth.

Scrooge lost the precious milliseconds to save her by being rooted to his spot, too shocked by the development to realize he should have moved to – to catch her, or to break her fall, somehow. The screams of the kids around him and Launchpad gasping loudly broke the spell and he found himself moving, then, but Donald had beaten him to the punch. The sailor had somehow managed to run to Della and jumped, catching her in midair and sending them both tumbling away, skidding to a stop near the wall.

Scrooge ran to them, panic rising, as he watched Donald rise from his spot and hover near his twin. He called her softly, to no avail – she had her eyes shut tight, and she panted, struggling to breathe. Her hand gripped tightly enough that her knuckles shook violently. From her breath, mist grew out, but it wasn’t brilliant white like usual. Instead, it was a hazy reddish-brown that clouded her entire being.

Donald stilled just as Dewey came to a halt by them, reaching to Della, and then, in an alarming moment, shoved Dewey to Huey and Louie. Not violent enough to harm him, but enough to make him stumble as Donald dove to Della’s hands, shaking her rigid fist and trying to pry her fingers open. He snarled when Della only held tighter. He flared with ocean blue light that mingled and mixed with the reddish-brown around Della, like colored oil on water, and yelled, “Give it, Della!”

With a loud gasp that was almost drowned out in her struggle for air, Della’s eyes snapped open, unfocused, and Donald was finally able to pry the ring off her hand. He scrambled back until his back hit the wall.

Della grew slack almost immediately. The reddish-brown haze settled around her, heavy, clinging and refusing to let go. Her breaths were still concerningly short, and her brows were knitted together in pain.

“Mom?” Huey called, voice soft and afraid. Della didn’t respond.

“It must have been the ring,” Scrooge said. “It says it corrodes magic. I shouldn’t have let her take it – “

His words were cut when Donald suddenly fell forward, slumping to the ground without fanfare. He was still for the longest second in Scrooge’s life, and then suddenly he let out a horrible sound that was both a choke and a cough at the same time, and began gulping and coughing madly. Blue liquid, murky and muddy but undeniably sea blue, leeched out of his mouth and coughed out, pooling underneath him and staining his feathers blue.

The ring, his mind screamed, and then it was Scrooge’s turn to frantically pry the silver band out of Donald’s grasp. Unlike Della, who had been clenching, Donald was worryingly slack. He barely found any resistance taking the ring and staining his own feathers with the blue that Donald had coughed up, that smelled of dirty shore and fish markets.

The effect was immediate on him. He gasped as he lost his balance, knees going weak, and he could feel small hands trying to break his fall and let him sit slowly. Goldie’s words played in his mind. It’s very subtle, almost like it’s not there at all.

The ring made him unable to properly move, like he was becoming stiff from head to toe. He could imagine himself as a being made out of metal, with the ring slowly burning rust and holes into his body. He realized, then, that he couldn’t let the triplets touch the ring, and how he really shouldn’t have let Della take the ring. If the effect was so profound on him, who barely had any magic at all, he wasn’t sure how Della and Donald would feel like.

“Webby,” he called feebly, knowing he could only entrust the ring to someone without magic. “Did you bring the pouch I asked you to bring?”

“Yes,” Webby answered, frantically taking said pouch. “Here, let me – “

“Don’t let anyone hold it in their bare hands,” Scrooge instructed just a moment too late. Webby grasped the ring, frowning when she swayed a little and regaining her balance when she shoved the ring into the pouch and closed it off. She didn’t seem to be aware of how Scrooge’s heart clenched when she swayed. Scrooge stared and asked, “Are you alright?”

“Um, a little weirdly tired, but mostly okay,” she admitted.

“Good, that means it’s only directly harmful for people with magic. I’m entrusting you with the ring,” he said. Webby straightened up and nodded.

Their attention was taken away when Launchpad suddenly hissed, “Oh, no,” and dove to Donald, starting chest compression.

“Launchpad knows CPR?” Webby muttered.

“Junior Woodchuck training,” Launchpad said. “Huey, sing Stayin’ Alive for me. Webby, time me – count if I’ve done 120 compressions.”

“Launchpad, what’s happening?” Scrooge demanded, slowly getting to his feet.

“He’s not breathing,” Launchpad said distractedly. “Huey, sing!”

Huey startled, fumbled, and sang the song Launchpad requested, a little off-key but keeping the rhythm. Webby rushed forward, counting for Launchpad.

Della moaned, stirring, and Scrooge found himself lurching forward to her. He knelt by her, and she directed an unfocused gaze at him. “…Uncle?” she called weakly.

“I’m here,” he said, grasping her hand. The hazy reddish-brown around her stirred with his touch.

“My head hurts,” she breathed, closing her teary eyes and frowning in pain. To Scrooge’s alarm, a stream of blood dripped from her nostril. “Everything is ringing. Uncle, please… it hurts.”

“Della – “ Scrooge squeezed her hand, searching for soothing words, but found his tongue dry and wordless.

“Please,” Della pleaded, sniffing, and coughed when she inhaled her own blood.

Dewey and Louie crawled closer to them, and Scrooge bit his tongue. Della wouldn’t want them so see her like this. He opened his mouth to tell them to stand back a little, just as Louie leaned forward, hand outstretched to touch Della. His hand touched the reddish-brown around Della, and he choked, scrambling back and gripping his beak shut with both hands. Alarmed, Dewey followed and steadied him.

Della pawed weakly at Scrooge’s lap and stilled when she touched something in Scrooge’s pocket. Her eyes flickered up, regaining some sort of clarity. “Uncle…? What’s that in your pocket?”

Scrooge’s eyes widened when he remembered what he had brought, and he hurried to take it out. The pure turquoise orb the size of his fist rested on a bed of jagged obsidian and amethyst. Della blinked when she saw it, and she reached for it, fingers brushing the cool stones. Almost immediately, the shallow breaths grew deeper and the nosebleed stopped. Her face grew slack as she relaxed. The reddish-brown changed color, lighter and lighter until it was brilliant while once more, lightly dancing like wisps around her, then clung to her skin and seemingly absorbed back through her breath. Her eyes fluttered close again, but instead of debilitating unconsciousness, Scrooge could tell it was healing sleep this time. He brushed the blood away from her face, but only succeeded in smearing it all over her cheek.

He turned around to Donald, who was still receiving chest compression from Launchpad – the pilot had gained a panicked edge in his gaze, clearly concerned when Donald didn’t respond to the aid he gave. Scrooge pushed him gently and took Donald’s blue-stained hand, resting it on the orb. As soon as he touched the orb, he drew a deep breath and his eyes fluttered open. He glanced about in apparent confusion and stopped to stare at Scrooge, then he sighed and closed his eyes again. The blue around him lost its murkiness and seeped back into Donald’s skin, like water absorbed by a sponge.

Launchpad checked his pulse frantically and heaved a breath of relief. “Oh, phew. I thought we lost him for a second there.”

“I didn’t know Junior Woodchucks have CPR training,” Webby commented weakly, wobbling on her knees and letting herself slump to the ground at last.

“We all have basic medical training,” Huey said. His breaths came short, but it was more because he was shaken and less because he had a pressing problem. “I haven’t had it yet. I need to take it soon.”

“Uncle Scrooge, what’s that orb?” Dewey asked from his spot by Louie. Scrooge turned to see him holding Louie’s shoulders, with the youngest triplet staring at both Della and Donald with an unreadable look in his eyes.

“The Orb of Remedies,” Scrooge recited, “it has the ability to heal, restore, and purify. I thought it would be a good idea to bring as precaution against the Void Ring. I’m glad I brought it with me.”

“Yeah,” Louie agreed feebly. “I don’t want to see them like that ever again.” He shuddered. “Their magic felt… wrong.”

“Wrong?” Dewey repeated.

Louie nodded. “Mom felt like smog,” he said, hissing the last word hatefully. “And Uncle Donald reminded me of… of that huge island of trash in the middle of the ocean.”

Scrooge’s mouth felt dry. “The Void Ring corrodes, corrupts, and scrapes away magic,” he breathed weakly.

Dewey’s head whipped to look at him. “Why did you choose to take it?” he asked, tone sharp and accusing.

“I didn’t want to risk anyone taking it to harm any of you,” he admitted. He swallowed. “I never thought Della and Donald would…” he trailed off, and sighed. “We should probably get up. There’s a chance we might have to put Della and Donald in the hospital, with what they’ve gone through.” He stared at the Orb of Remedies. “We’ll keep them in contact with the orb later, on the plane. We’ll monitor their progress. We’ll have them checked over once we got back home.”

“How do we get them up there?” Huey said, looking up to the ceiling at the direction of the stairs they descended down from. Scrooge took a deep breath to answer him, but then realized the problem in that most of the people present were children. He hummed in thought.

“It’s okay, I got it,” Launchpad assured. Scrooge frowned, ready to argue that they would have to think it through, but he found himself silenced when Launchpad easily slung Della over his left shoulder and brought Donald under his right arm as if he had a basketball instead of a full grown person. He shuffled to balance his weight and nodded at them, apparently ready to go.

“Whoa, Launchpad, you’re so strong,” Webby commented, eyes wide, staring. “I’ve only seen Granny hold up weight like that.”

“Oh, I’m nowhere near Mrs. B’s level!” Launchpad said. “She’s very strong.”

Scrooge sighed and slipped the Orb of Remedies into Launchpad’s pocket, instructing him to make sure the orb would be safe, and let him climb up the stairs as fast as he was able without jostling the twins too much.

“Where’s the ring?” Huey asked, looking around in worry.

“I have it here,” Webby answered, holding up the pouch. “Don’t touch it.”

“I don’t want to. Keep it away,” Louie said, shuddering.

“It’s okay. I’ll make sure it’ll be safe,” Scrooge said, waving the kids to go up the stairs after Launchpad. “You won’t ever see it again, if it were up to me.”

He thought of Della, plummeting like a stone to the unforgiving earth, gasping for breath and hurting. He thought of Donald, choking and gulping and far too still. His fists clenched, and he vowed to never let the triplets get close to the ring.

The trek back to the plane felt so much longer than it had any right to be, and by the time they secured Donald and Della side by side on the passengers’ seats, Scrooge kneeling by the seats and securing the orbs between them, they’d had Launchpad fly the plane and told him to fly as fast as the Sunchaser was able to.

There was a gnawing in his stomach, the ugly part that he kept silencing hissing in his head, this was his fault, this was his fault. He didn’t have it in himself to push it away this time, and prayed his kids were alright.

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Della woke up halfway through the trip back to Duckburg, good as new, her plumes of white bright and shining like cotton clouds in a sunny summer day. She blinked, gaze landing on Donald, and immediately demanded them to land on sea.

“Donald needs to get back home and get checked by a doctor! As well as you, I might say!” Scrooge protested.

“I’m fine, we’re in the sky,” Della said. “Donald doesn’t need a doctor, this is magic-related. Doctors are useless in this case. He just needs the sea.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m all healed, aren’t I?”

Somehow, she managed to convince them, and Launchpad made a relatively smooth landing on water. Della hoisted Donald over her shoulders and practically ran out of the plane, plunging into the sea and laid Donald out, letting him float on the surface.

The effect was immediate. The seawater around Donald seemed to glitter, climbing to his chest and receding. Scrooge straightened and stared, hope blooming in his chest.

“Is… is this going to work?” Webby asked nervously.

“I think it is,” Louie said. “Uncle Donald’s magic is getting more… clean? And stable.”

“That’s good, right?” Dewey asked nervously. “I mean, you said he felt like a trash island. This should be a good thing, right?”

Huey squinted and leaned forward. “Wait, what’s the water doing – oh my god, Mom, Mom! Mom, Uncle Donald’s sinking!”

Scrooge squawked in horror when the water pulled Donald down, and the horror was mirrored in Della’s eyes. She dove down to follow Donald, but she resurfaced instantly, looking down the water in what seemed to be bemusement. And then the water exploded and Donald shot up to the surface, bobbing up and down like a bottle, coughing and hissing, glowing sea blue and blinking seawater out of his eyes.

“Don! You’re alive!” Della screeched, making Donald wince, and enveloped him in a hug. The triplets whooped and dove in, swimming to Donald and hugging him, ignoring his protests and orders to wear a lifejacket. His protest turned into panicked screech when Launchpad cannonballed into the water and cheered, splashing water to them.

Webby shook her hands, looking like she wanted to jump in, but her feet remained planted to the plane’s floor. Scrooge took a glance at her and extended a hand.

“I’ll take the ring,” he said. “Go join the others.”

Webby lit up immediately. She handed the pouch over and jumped to the sea just as the others began to wave her in. scrooge stayed firmly on the plane, keeping hold of the magical artefacts they had, and smiled at the way the kids cheered and laughed, then bawled when the weight of the situation finally hit them – the leftover fear finally sinking in and the relief hitting like a bludgeon – while the adults tried to keep them calm.

Well, more like Donald and Della. Launchpad joined the crying squad without much resistance and hugged both Donald and Della, blubbering and telling them not to die.

(“When did Launchpad get so close to Della and Donald?” Scrooge would later wonder.

“Oh, Launchpad had me for a Darkwing Duck marathon, then Mom and Uncle Donald joined us,” Dewey explained. “After that they began chatting about piloting stuff, and then they got close.”

Scrooge blinked. “Didn’t his relationship with Mrs. Beakley get better because they watched that show, too?”

“Oh yeah, Darkwing Duck is Launchpad’s go-to when he wants to make friends quick and easy. I can’t blame him, it’s a good show.”)

For once, the ugly part that kept telling him whispers of his past faults kept silent. Scrooge was grateful for that.

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He insisted the twins get looked at by a doctor anyway, just in case, and the doctor conceded that they were perfectly fine and healthy. Scrooge breathed in relief and hurried to the bin to lock the Void Ring away, and kept the Orb of Remedies with him. With chances of magic hurting his family being quite high, he decided it would probably be best to always have it around in adventures, just in case.

He thought of how the Void Ring hurt Della and Donald, how it managed to get Donald so close to death. They dodged a bullet this time, but magic causing problems… this won’t be the last time it happened.

Magic brings nothing but trouble, that ugly part whispered to him.

Magic is what keeps my family alive, Scrooge argued. If their magic being scraped away could make Della gasp for air and Donald drown on land, he could only conclude that without magic, they would die.

The world would be better without magic. Your family being normal would be far better.

But that wasn’t so. Without their magic, they wouldn’t be his family, would they? A Della who couldn’t fly wouldn’t be his Della, a Donald who couldn’t call the wrath of the sea wouldn’t be his Donald. Magic was a part of them, deep and intrinsic, and Scrooge would never wish to change them for anything in the world.

You hate magic, the ugly part whispered, but its voice grew quieter as Scrooge stepped confidently into the manor. You hate magic, it brings nothing but trouble.

Your family is magic. Your family is trouble.

“No,” Scrooge whispered as he watched Della’s bright white mingling with Donald’s sea blue as they exchanged fond looks, watching Huey play with flames of his own creation, Dewey sparking electricity, and Louie calling his khopesh to polish. He glanced at the bracelet Webby wove for him, and reveled in the warmth and security it lent him, how it managed to quiet the anxieties that screamed in his mind. “Magic simply makes them what they are. Family is trouble, and curse me kilts, have I missed trouble.”

The ugly part grew quiet at last.

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Later, Donald would enter his study after he and Della tucked the triplets to bed, said goodnight to Webby, and departed for bed – Della going to her room and Donald going to him before he went to his houseboat.

“You’re not a liar anymore,” Donald noted quietly. “You don’t have that look when the kids use magic, now.”

He simply shrugged. “I did tell you I’m not a liar.”

Donald’s smile was fond, and quiet, and at peace. “Goodnight, Uncle Scrooge.”

“Goodnight, Donald.” Then, barely louder than a whisper, “Sweet dreams.”

The door clicked shut.

[babbushka]

Mine

Charlie x Reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: cheating/affairs, nsfw, minor angst 

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

“Hey Charlie,” The bartender greets him when he steps out of the yellow taxi cab, “Your table’s all set up for you.”

The bartender’s having a smoke outside, barely visible in the dark of past-midnight as he’s leaned up against the old brick wall of the building.

Charlie stands in front of The White Lily, tips the cabbie before the car drives away. Tips the bouncer as he walks through the door, cuts in front of a long line of people. The bartender follows him.

“Thanks, is she here?” Charlie asks, attention zeroed in on finding you.

“Yep, already ordered your drinks.” The bartender replies, and Charlie tips him too. “’Appreciate it.” The boy says.

“’Course.” Charlie replies, grateful for the boy’s willingness to accept cash.

Can’t use the credit cards for anything – no record, no trace.

He hangs back a little, finally having spotted you. You don’t see him, gazing off into the distance somewhere. It’s dark in the club, nothing but soft neon lights filtered through a thick haze of smoke illuminate the space. He lights a cigarette, adds to it. It’s one of the last bars in the city that allows smoking.

The whole place looks like it never grew out of the 1940s, all the old fixtures and furniture kept in pristine condition. There’s a jazz band on stage, a four-man group that’s there every Friday when Charlie slips away from his life and meets you here.

You’re waiting for him, but not anxiously, he can tell.

He can tell by the way you’re sitting, how relaxed you are. Your head is leaned back, resting against the high-backed cushion of the booth. You’ve got a smile on your face, listening to the trumpet, soothed by it.

You look good, wrapped up in the brass music, golden notes kissing your skin.

He wants to kiss your skin.

He reveals himself to you, walks towards the booth and slides in right next to you.

Nicole never let him sit next to her, always had to be across. You welcome him with the brightest smile, arms already reaching to slip around his shoulders and hug him close.

“Hello handsome.” You can’t help but laugh, joy so clear on your face.

It hurts, how happy you are to see him. Reminds him that he could have had this for years.

“Hey gorgeous.” He smiles right back at you, his hands not wanting to let you go as he pulls away enough for you to shift yourself to face him, tuck yourself against his side. Your dress struggles to contain you as you do, as you cross your legs and lean into him. “Is this new?”

It’s beautiful, but then again, everything looks beautiful on you. The way the lights hit it makes you look ethereal.

“No, you just haven’t seen it in a while.” You laugh, sadness creeping into the corner of your eyes, your smile wavering, “You haven’t seen me in a while.”

He admires you for a minute, simply rests his head against the cushion of the booth and looks at you, looks into those eyes of yours. He’s always blown away by what he sees, by how much you care for him. He’s thankful that you’re never jealous, just observant.

“I kept trying to get away.” He replies earnestly, and you duck your gaze just the smallest amount, collecting yourself.

He grabs a hold of your face and tilts your head back up to face him. He hates the wetness he sees in your eyes.

“You’re here now, that’s what matters.” You say, and he hears in your voice how you mean it, how you really mean it. “Are you doing okay?” You ask, and he doesn’t know how to answer that.

Was he? How could he be? With his life crumbling around him. It was time, it had been a long time coming, but the fallout wasn’t easy, wasn’t clean. He hated how messy it is.

He hasn’t seen Nicole in days, hasn’t seen Henry in just as long. The courts, they’re not being cooperative, the lawyers are vultures. He doesn’t remember ever yelling this much in his whole life, the way he yells when he’s home.

He can’t even call it home anymore.

Not anymore.

He takes a drag of his cigarette.

“No.” He says finally, says instead of all that. You hear it anyway.

You always hear him.

“Anything I can do to help?” You offer yourself for him, in that way you always do, selflessly giving and giving and giving yourself to him.

He’s so afraid to take advantage of you, but you let him, you beg him to. He’s never been very good at resisting you, resisting his feelings for you.

He doesn’t want to.

“Just let me hold you for a little bit?” He asks in return, a silent plea.

You know just the thing he wants, and you nudge his thigh with yours.

“Come, dance with me.” You say, “You can hold me all you’d like.”

He licks his lips, stands up and offers you a steadying hand so you can stand too.

You walk to the small dance floor, populated by couples who were escaping their own lives, living in their own heads as they swayed to the music.

Charlie wraps his arm around you waist, holds your hand in his as you lean your head against his shoulder. He’s got you so close, he can smell the way your shampoo curls in his nostrils. He brushes his nose along your cheek, kisses the shell of your ear softly.

It’s magic, the way he gets to hold you like this. He’s never held anyone like this.

Not like this.

He closes his eyes, sways along to the trumpet. He tries not to dwell on how lonely it sounds, how lonely he feels whenever he’s away from you.

You lift your head off his shoulder, and he rests his forehead against yours, noses softly touching as they slide against one another. Your lips are right there, his for the claiming.

He stops moving his feet, heart thudding in his chest. It’s always so risky, kissing you.

There’s always a chance, a chance you won’t want him anymore. A chance someone who knows him will see, a chance someone will tell. There’s a chance that this isn’t real, that this is just one big figment of his imagination as he’s laying in his cold empty bed on the other side of town.

Or even worse, as he’s laying in his cold bed with Nicole.

He takes the chance, kisses you anyway.

You’re real, you’re worth the risk.

He loses himself in the kiss, shudders against you, against your tongue. It makes his stomach swoop, like he’s free-falling. He wants to never do anything else, only wants to kiss you. Your eyelashes tickle his cheek from where they brush against him. He can feel you shaking.

He knows that you know it’s a risk too.

“Charlie, what are we gonna do?” You ask sadly when he pulls away just enough to breathe.

“She wants to move.” He says, making you freeze. “California.”

“And you?” You whisper, terrified for a moment.

“I’m staying here.” He says quickly, holds you. He only ever wants to hold you, to kiss you, “I’m staying with you.”

“I can’t ask you to do that, you know I can’t. I won’t.” You shake your head, and already he can feel hot tears sting at the corner of his eyes.

What a mess, what a fucking mess.

“I know, but you’re not. I know what I want, and it’s not LA.” He holds your face in his hand, kisses you again.

“They don’t have clubs like this, in LA, do they?” You ask against his lips, and he huffs out a laugh.

“No, they don’t.” He says, and you smile.

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

Charlie takes you back to his apartment, calls for a cab and sticks his hand up your skirt the second he’s got you in it.

He fucks you until dawn, not that dawn was too far off to begin with. He’s drunk off the feeling of his own orgasm, drunk off of the feeling of your warm cunt around his cock.

He refuses to pull out of you for a long time, even after he’s come, even after he’s gone soft. He just can’t bare the thought of not being close to you.

You, thankfully, don’t mind. You’re more than content to have Charlie drape himself over you like a big sweaty blanket, an even pressure of his weight pressing you into the mattress.

“You okay?” You ask, when he’s gone silent.

He marvels at how you can always tell.

“I was just thinking…” He replies, finally pulling out of you and rolling onto his feet.  

“What about?” You wonder aloud as he snaps the condom off, ties it and drops it in the garbage.

“You – I’m always thinking of you.” He says, standing at the foot of the bed.

The sun has started to peek up above the horizon, golden light washing you. God you’re gorgeous, he thinks to himself as you sit up against the headboard, the covers pooling at your waist exposing your breasts to him. He counts the bruises and bite marks that litter your flesh, that mark you as his.

“Good thoughts I hope?” You ask, all of your sadness fucked right out of you, leaving behind the beautiful after-glow and that teasing, playful nature of yours that had made him fall in love with you all those years ago.

“Only the best.” He nods, makes his way back to the warm spot he left, climbs under the covers and settles between your legs, rests his head on your stomach. “Nothing but the best for you. It’s the least I can do, the least I can give you.”

“You don’t have to give me anything, I already take too much.” You say softly, carding a hand through his hair.

“You don’t take anything I don’t want you to have.” He shakes his head, kisses your stomach, props himself up so he can suck at your tits, your nipples.

You melt under him, slide back down so you’re flat on your back. He can already feel himself getting hard again – it was so easy to get hard for you.

“What about me were you thinking?” You ask, breathy moans as he lets his hand wander down to tease at your cunt, slow even strokes of his fingers.  

“Hm?” He asks, drunk, he must be drunk. His brain catches up to him, and he fingers you as he speaks.  “You don’t look real, you’re too pretty. How are you so pretty? I’m afraid you’re gonna disappear into the sunlight and I’ll wake up and it’ll have all been just another dream. It’s like I’m seeing you in black and white – some old Hollywood star right in front of me. Like someone smudged the screen, turned all your edges soft.”

“I’m not gonna disappear, I promise.” You say, voice catching on a gasp as he curls his fingers and brushes them against your g-spot.

“Good, you can’t, not now.” Charlie whispers, kisses you as he fingers you, makes you cry from it, makes your thighs shake around him, “You can’t leave me now, not when I’ve finally got you.”

“Does she know?” You ask, and he sighs.

“No, I don’t think so anyway.” He says.

You were both so careful, you didn’t want to hurt her, didn’t want to ruin her life. You were so aware of it, so acutely aware of what you were doing, how objectively bad it was.

It didn’t feel bad when you gasped underneath him. To Charlie, it felt like the most absolute correct thing there could ever be. That was the problem. 

“You’re going to have to tell her eventually, you owe her that much.” You say anyway, and he nods.

“I know.” He replies, and you move on – for now anyway.

Your arms loop around his neck as he rubs steady circles on your clit, your chest heaving as you silently beg for more friction. He knows you won’t come like this, knows it’s only enough to keep your veins on fire, to keep the curl in your toes. He’s meticulous, knows what he wants.

He pulls his hand away all together.

“You know what my favorite version of you is?” He asks, and you blink up at him, hair fanned out across his pillow.

Is he dreaming?

“Hm?” You ask, frowning, wanting to come.

“You in the morning.” He says, “The way you hate the sun on your face, how you shy away from it.”

You hum and tuck your face behind one of your arms as the light dapples across your cheek – not even realizing that you’re doing it.

Your inner thighs are hot, wet, as your cunt drools for him.

“I love the way you laugh in the mornings, when the day’s bullshit hasn’t set in yet. It’s my favorite.” You say, simply because you can, because you can’t really think of anything else that isn’t fuck me.

“I only laugh in the mornings with you.” Charlie points out.

“When do you have to go to work?” You ask, wiggling your hips, and he rolls his eyes playfully, as if you’re the most demanding thing on the planet, as if it’s a chore fucking you.

It’s not, it never has been.

“Not for another hour, let me have breakfast?” He asks, already shuffling down the bed, kissing down your chest and stomach, tugging apart your knees and getting a mouthful of you.

“Mmmm.” You moan, finally satisfied as he spells his name with his tongue, wanting to own you even here.

He swallows you down, all the come that’s been waiting for him all night. He drinks you down, nudges his nose against your clit as you cry above him.

“Fuck, you’re so good.” He says against you, biting hard at your inner thigh.

“Yeah?” You gasp, a hand fisted in his hair.

“Best damn pussy I’ve ever had.” He says, and it’s the truth.

It’s the truth.

He eats you out until you’re coming for the last time, finally, finally gushing down his throat. He’s got fingers in you, pumping in and out, and when you’ve coated his whole mouth with your come and slick, he smears it against your thigh.

“Charlie!” You grin when he bites too hard, you pull away from him with a laugh.

“No get back here, you get right back here.” He laughs back, hooks his arms around your legs and pulls you all the way down the bed so you’re eye level with him, so he can kiss you. “You’re mine, you know that? All mine. Mine in the mornings, in the afternoon, at night. Mine when I’m at work and mine when I’m at home.”

“I’m yours, all yours.” You laugh, laugh and laugh, he kisses you all over, tickles you with them. You laugh like this is the most fun you’ve ever had. How fucked up is that? “Are you mine?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever belonged to someone the way I belong to you.” Charlie says, and though he doesn’t laugh when he says it, he means it.

He means it.

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

Taglist: @dreamboatdriver @kyloxfem @solotriplets @tinyplanet-explorers @inkstaineddaughter

[humanmoodring-retired]

Walking With a Ghost || Luce & Nadia???

TIMING: Current 

LOCATION: Candleton Cemetery & Nadia’s Apartment ;) 

PARTIES: @divineluce @humanmoodring

SUMMARY: Nadia invites Luce on a date with promises that it’ll be a little dirty... It’s not grave robbing if you don’t want the bodies, right?

As Luce climbed up the stairs of Nadia’s apartment, she couldn’t help but reflect on how different it felt from the last time she was here. Not just physically-- physically, it was like night and day. She’d barely been able to make it up the first landing without having to take a break from the pain in her ribs. But unlike last time… she just had this feeling that something was different. Something was off. It wasn’t like Nadia to flirt with her, to make those jokes. Not unless she was like, super fucking stressed or something. But, the satan salt deliveries had stopped a while ago and it hadn’t seemed like there was anything else fucking her up. So, what was going on? Whatever it was, the other woman’s invitation to “get a little dirty” had her knocking on Nadia’s door all the same. “Hey there.” She said with an easy grin as she leaned against the doorway.

Just as Luce knocked on the door, Nadia was getting her duffel bag ready to take on a couple hundred thousand dollars in cash. She also had a shovel with a handle that allowed it to fit into the bag. Her revolver went in as well, though she didn’t think they’d run into anything worth shooting. She also transferred a glass vial of phoenix tears into something sturdier and slipped it in a pocket. Nadia flexed her left hand. She didn’t want to be ill prepared again. She picked Candleton for its ability to be pretty fucking quiet after hours, so she didn’t expect any trouble. Finally, she’d drawn a map from memory. She knew the approximate area where she’d stored her cash, as well as what the date on the tombstone should probably be. Late October. Probably. She’d gotten to White Crest in November and found a place to stash a good chunk of her money right away. She’d been looking for places to hole up the rest of it when the three exorcist stooges had fucked up her life and set her back months. But that’d be fixed tonight. She opened the door for Luce, a bright smile on her face. “Hey, yourself. Ready for some fun?”

“Ah, you know me, I’m always down for fun.” Luce replied. If this was how Nadia wanted to go about their hook up, who was she to stop her? But, as she stood there, her eyes fell to the large duffle bag in Nadia’s hand. A duffle bag? What was she doing with that..? It was big and bulky, but it didn’t totally seem like it was full-- in fact, it kind of looked empty. What the fuck? “What’s that for? You on the lamb or something?” She asked with bemused expression. But, even as she spoke, her confusion only grew. What was going on here? And why… why did she get the sinking feeling that Nadia was calling in that favor she owed her for the phoenix tears?

“Excellent,” Nadia said. She shouldered her bag and headed out the door, locking the door behind them. “Or something,” she told Luce breezily. On the way downstairs, she considered whether she wanted to take her bike or Nadia’s piece of shit Bronco. The truck had more room, but she hated it. She hated most things that were decidedly Nadia, for all of her attempts to blend into the girl’s life. “So, I moved here after… some shit, back in November, and I had to hide some stuff in Candleton cemetery. I figured we could go get it.” She looked back at Luce, mischief in her eyes. “It’s not a fun date, I know, but it will be a little dirty, like I promised, and there’s always the risk of getting caught, and that’s fun.” They made it outside, and Nadia walked over to where she parked her bike, strapping the duffel bag in and turning to Luce once more. “I wanted to put what we’re doing out there. ‘S not illegal, per se, but…” She trailed off. This was Luce’s chance to back out, if she wanted to.

Following Nadia down the stairs, Luce couldn’t help the expression of concern that grew more and more pronounced with every step she took. Or something? Listening as the other woman spoke, she did her best to try and make sense of it all. She hid something in the cemetery? In the fucking cemetery? Seriously? And dirty-- Fuck. She was-- Christ. They were going to rob a grave. That’s what Nadia wanted her for? To help her dig up a body? Why the fuck did she want a body? Or, if it wasn’t a body, what the fuck did she stash in a fucking cemetery? And why? Approximately a hundred questions were going through her brain as she followed Nadia until they stopped at a bike she’d never seen before. A motorcycle. What the fuck? Luce stared at the woman in stunned silence, trying to get a gauge on just who was standing in front of her. This… whatever was going on, this wasn’t... Swallowing, Luce offered what she hoped was a crooked grin. “Sure. I’m game.” Whatever was happening here, she needed to figure out just what the fuck Nadia was up to. And why. Why was she acting like this? And since when did she know how to ride a motorcycle?

This was, as the kids might say, a mistake, Nadia was quickly beginning to realize. Luce’s confusion and concern over this situation was a bit too much, and Nadia should’ve known that she would have been better off going to the cemetery alone. But, she needed a lookout, and she thought that Luce could hang. She’d been wrong, obviously. Concern seemed to be winning out over Luce’s natural desire to deny that she gave a shit about Nadia. See, negative emotions like that were what got in the way of people having fun. Damn. And then she seemed to be weirded out by the motorcycle. Nadia gave Luce a bit of a sheepish smile, ran a hand through her hair. Classic Nadia Diaz move. “Impulse buy,” she said, looking at the motorcycle. “Kind of fun, though.” She bit her lip, appearing to be unsure. “Listen if this is… Fuck, I know it’s, like, weird. But I was-- There was so much going on, when I first got here, and I didn’t really know what to do, so I just.” She took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I had to get rid of some money. I couldn’t think of anything else. Nobody checks a fucking cemetery, right?” One more time of running her hand through her hair. It’s a nervous habit, after all. Nadia did it when she was nervous. “But it’s… seems sketchy, right?”

Luce listened intently, though her eyes were trained on the other woman’s face. Well. Not exactly her face. She was more focused on her eyes, trying to get a glimpse past the flurry of activity. The way she ran her hand through her hair, the biting of her lip, the pinching of her nose-- they were all things she’d seen Nadia do before. But… back to back, one right after the other? That never really happened. Not often at least, not when they’d been around each other before. There was something in her eyes that just seemed… different. Maybe it was just stress. Or maybe it was something else. Either way, Luce’s concern only grew. Whatever was going on, it was seriously fucking weird. Which meant, even though the cemetery was the last place she wanted to go, she was gonna be there. “Yeah.” Luce said finally, casting the woman an easy grin. “A bit sketchy for sure. But, I owe you one. And besides, I can’t really let you go out there all on your own. Who knows what kind of shit’s out there. It’s not safe.”

Nadia met Luce’s eyes, and, just for a moment, she felt seen. Not in a good way, either. This was a real mess, wasn’t it? Fuck, some people just needed to get their priorities straight. Luce’s concern was highly unwanted and unnecessary, but there wasn’t anything Nadia could do about it now. Except push the other woman away without blowing her cover any more than she already had. She let her body sag with relief. “Great. That’s, like, seriously great. I mean, that you’re coming.” They didn’t talk the ride to the cemetery, Nadia weaving through back streets and alleys. She was a bit lost in her head, thinking about what to do, after all this. If Luce caught on to anything being wrong with her, well, Nadia didn’t know what to do. For all of the other woman’s conflicting emotions, Luce seemed to care about Nadia, something that made her chest ache in a way that decidedly wasn’t her own. But she’d break the heart inside her chest in it meant she didn’t get caught. She parked outside the cemetery gate. Nadia threw her duffel bag over the fence and scanned it for the broken spot she’d crawled through when she first stashed the money. She looked back to Luce. “After you,” she said with a small smile, holding the broken rail away so that the other woman could get through.

Without further discussion, Luce slid onto the back of Nadia’s motorcycle-- a fucking motorcycle?-- and held on as they drove to the cemetery. Because that was a super normal thing to do. She could just imagine small talk in the backroom at Ink Inc.: ‘Hey, Luce, what’d you get up to?’ ‘Oh nothing, just went and dug up some sketchy shit from a graveyard to pay off a debt to one of the girl’s I’ve been fucking. Oh, and said girl’s been acting concerning as all get out. How about you?’ Trailing behind Nadia, Luce kept her head on a swivel as the made their way through the cover of darkness towards the fence. “How polite. Love it when a gal knows her manners.” She said with what she hoped was an easy going grin. She slipped inside the cemetery and looked around. Empty, as far as she could tell. “So… where did you stash this stuff? And what are we looking for anyways?”

“I’m hella polite,” Nadia said. She was, too. She never left a mess in the places she robbed. That would have just been inconsiderate. Despite the fact that Luce definitely didn’t want to be there, Nadia appreciated that she seemed to be taking this seriously. Probably for her own benefit, but still. “In a lot in the back right corner. It was about five minutes of walking from here. Grave’s from, like, October. It was fresh enough that no one noticed that I dug a bit. Think the last name started with a G. Or maybe an E.” She really hadn’t been paying attention, too many long nights of living in fear of getting caught followed by a certain amount of disbelief that she didn’t have to worry about those things here had made her reckless when she was hiding her stuff. She’d ended that night back at her apartment, hands bloody and clothes covered in dirt, and she’d drunk an entire bottle of Jack Daniels and passed out on the couch. “We’re looking for a metal box. Just some cash and shit inside.” By shit she meant a ton of jewelry as well as well as a Colt revolver said to have belonged to Billy the Kid. She wanted that gun back, man. It looked fucking cool.

“You dug around--” She shut her mouth before starting again, “Back corner… fresh grave, some kind of G or E last name.” Luce repeated, still in disbelief over what she was doing. Launching a full on assault on Yours Mime and Ours? No problem. Kidnapping the shithead who murdered her sister? Dude had it coming. The murder part… necessary evil. But grave robbing? Was this grave robbing? They weren’t like… going for a body. But they were definitely going to be digging around in the dirt. Of a grave. Fuck. What the fuck Nadia? “Cash? Are you in some kind of trouble or something?” She asked, as she made her way over to the area that the woman had directed her towards and began to look over the headstones. “You’ve heard of a bank account, right?” She tried to joke, but it did nothing to ease the growing confusion and concern. What the fuck was going on?

“I didn’t, you know, put anything in a coffin or whatever,” Nadia said, trying to sound defensive, but, really, she just kind of found this a little funny. In a disappointing kind of way. It made sense. Nadia would never actually sleep with a cool person. Or have strange, nagging feelings that forced her to do things like give up prized phoenix tears. She shouldered her bag and walked on, looking back at Luce. “No trouble. Just… probably best not to leave shit in places like this, you know? This town probably has actual grave robbers, and I really don’t want to deal with that.” Man, if somebody took her fucking Billy the Kid revolver, she’d make what she did to Todd the motherfucking vampire look like child’s play. The cash, too, or whatever. She had plenty of money, knew a thousand ways to get more money. But the gun of a famous Western gunslinger? That shit was priceless. She knew. When she stole it, there wasn’t a price tag. She started checking tombstones, looking for people who died in October. She kept looking at Luce, the other woman’s concern making her skin itch. She wished she could make it stop.

“I didn’t think you did. I was just wondering if you’d, you know… taken shit out of one. That’s all.” Luce said as she held her phone up to one of the headstones, reading the name. Roanoke. RIP in pieces to you, dude. But not their guy. “You know, with the number of ghouls and monster bullshit running around in the woods, there might as well be actual grave robbers around town too. Christ.” Luce shook her head, still trying to wrap her mind around the situation. None of this was sitting right with her. Yeah, she and Nadia had first met because the other woman wanted to set fire to a building, but YM&O was some seriously fucked up shit. And it wasn’t as though Nadia had ever mentioned any other weird, criminal bullshit stuff she was doing. Then again, who would actually admit to that? Letting out a sigh, Luce glanced over at Nadia and was startled to see her staring at her. Like she was waiting for something. Raising an eyebrow, Luce gestured to some of the other headstones around them. “I said I was gonna help, but now it looks like I’m the one doing all the work here.” She said.

“Taking shit off corpses isn’t my style,” Nadia said. Not the ones in the ground, at least. If they could walk and talk with a functioning body and pockets, they were free game. No telling how many undead fuckers she pickpocketed at that stupid carnival. “They are definitely grave robbers around here. A town of this size with as many people that just drop like flies? Grave robbing would be a lucrative business.” Just not one she was into. Grave robbing was rarely exciting, and Nadia hated touching dead bodies. She rolled her eyes at Luce’s comment. “Sorry. You’re just so pretty. How could I look away?” she teased. Then, she started on her own search for headstones. There was a Jeffery Edgars, but he died back in 2004, so he wasn’t her grave. She scanned around, careful not to walk over anyone (it was rude, okay?), silently begging something to stand out. There was nothing until… “Alison Gregory,” Nadia murmured. She died in the tell end of September, so Nadia had been a little off, but that was the grave. She chose it because the last name reminded her of another life. “If you can keep look out, this won’t take long,” she told Luce.

“Good to know. What is, then? You know, more your style?” Luce asked as she looked over another headstone. The numbers were so worn she didn’t even need to read them to know it wasn’t the one Nadia was looking for. Casting a glance over her shoulder, Luce scanned the area around them. No one was here, but she wasn’t going to take any chances. Security guards were probably out doing rounds or something, right? At the other woman’s words, Luce let out a bemused laugh, an attempt to distract from the way she stiffened. Seriously. What the fuck was going on here? This wasn’t… something was off. Something was really fucking off. “Touche, I’m damn fine to look at. Even in the dark.” She replied before following Nadia up to the latest tombstone. Her stomach turned slightly at the idea of digging up the grave, and a wave of relief washed over her when the other woman asked her to act as look out. “No problem. Do your thing.” She said with a thumbs up.

What was Nadia’s style? She paused, thinking about it. Whatever paid. Instead, she grinned. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” She set down her bag and knelt in front of it, getting out what she would need. She rested her pistol on the ground beside her and put the shovel together. Then, she began to dig. She only needed to get a few feet down. The ground was still soft, even after almost a year. She dug for awhile before her shovel hit something, a metallic sound ringing through the air. Nadia used her hands to uncover the box. She grinned as she saw the lock was still on it. Grunting, she withdrew the box and put in her bag before she began filling the grave back up. “Fucking jackpot.” She said. This was great. She still had a lot of money, and she could always get more, but she wanted to have eyes on her stuff in case she ever had to make a quick escape from White Crest. After she finished filling the hole, she wiped a bit of sweat off her brow, smearing dirt on it in the process. Grinning from ear to ear, she turned back to Luce. “I didn’t lie when I said it was gonna be dirty.”

I really would. Luce thought to herself as she scanned the area around them. The graveyard was dark-- there were lights along the main road that went through the cemetery that flickered and blinked in the night sky. Other than that, nothing. Just the two of them and a whole bunch of dead people. Super cool. Real fucking chill. Glancing down at the other woman, Luce froze when she saw a flash of metal next to the hole that Nadia had dug. A gun. She hated guns. She hated how powerful they were, hated how easy it was for the wrong people to get a hold of them. And she hated seeing one here, in Nadia’s hands. Luce raised her eyes once more, trying to hide her discomfort until the other woman spoke up. “True facts. I mean, this wasn’t the dirty I was expecting but, you’re no liar.”

Picking up the now hefty bag and tucking her gun into the front pouch of it, Nadia walked over to Luce. This night could end one of two ways, she decided, still feeling the other woman’s discomfort. They could both have fun, or just Nadia could have fun. She had no attachment to Luce Vural, despite what her body and brain almost constantly tried to tell her. Nadia had an attachment to her because she was a fool and always fell for people that would never want her back. Not in a meaningful way. Nadia didn’t care. Cutting Luce out would only benefit her, in the end. Just another loose Nadia Diaz thread to cut. But, still. “You know, I promised you fun, and I don’t think I delivered,” she said quietly. “Think that means I owe you a drink? And maybe something a little more?” She kept her voice light but hopeful.

As Nadia grabbed the bag, the shovel disappearing neatly back into the duffel, Luce craned her neck to look around the cemetery. She could have sworn she’d seen a beam of light, like a flashlight, flickering across the way. They needed to get out of here. At the other woman’s words, she blinked in surprise. While the suggestion was more of how she’d thought her night would go, all thoughts of it had gone out the window the second Nadia had told her what her plans were. “What, you don’t treat all the girls to a wild night of grave digging? I’m shocked.” Luce teased. As fucked up as all this was, as weird as it all was-- the offer was tempting. And after the horrible evening she’d had with Remmy? Even more so. “Yeah. A drink would be good. And I can’t say I mind the idea of a little more.”

Surprise was far better than concern to Nadia, and she was willing to take what she could get to salvage the night. After all this, she had no desire to keep Luce around; the other woman was clearly affected by some attachment that she either wasn’t aware of or was too stubborn to acknowledge. Nadia didn’t need her snooping around, figuring out something was up. She’d do whatever she had to in order to push her away. But this? “Grave digging’s for special occasions only,” she said, leading them back to the bike. “But good. Great, even. I’ve got a bed and a bottle of tequila that I’ve got no problem sharing.” She’d cut Luce off after, later. Maybe she’d even ghost her. That was such a funny phrase, all things considered. Whatever. She was going to enjoy the night. Whatever happened, after happened after.

Hours later, though it’s hard to tell without any light outside, and it is warm, and it is comfortable. It almost felt too good to be true, like one of those dreams no one would want to wake up from. Summer nights, soft sheets, and another body close by made her want to burrow back down, fall asleep. But it was all too good to be true. Nadia’s eyes snapped open. Her heart pounded furiously in her chest. She didn’t know where she was, who she was with. Her eyes wouldn’t focus. Her chest felt too tight. She stumbled out of bed, tripped over a piece of clothing, and managed to pull on a shirt as she left the room. Her room, in her apartment. She was at home. She didn’t feel like she was at home. She went to the bathroom. She needed water or fresh air or a mirror or something. Something to make this real. The lights snapped on, and she stared at her reflection. Same face, same eyes, no grin. But Nadia still felt dread, practically tangible, knotting in her chest. Maybe because of the fact that the hollowness she’d felt since the first time she woke up was gone, filled with something writhing and bitter and wholly not her. Her shaking fingers reached up to touch her face.

The bed moved, the pressure next to her rousing Luce from her sleep. Blinking, she frowned into the pillow under her before realizing what had just happened. Fuck. She’d fallen asleep. Luce wasn’t the type to fall asleep after a hook-up. She was usually on her way out if the prospect of another round wasn’t on the table, with an excuse about an early appointment ready in the wings. As the bathroom door swung open, the light flickering on, Luce stretched. She should go. She should take the opportunity to nod and wave and… shrug off everything. Because, while the sex had been good, it hadn’t felt quite how it used to? She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there had been an edge to the encounter that hadn’t been there before. Swallowing, Luce slipped into her shorts, pulling her shirt back over her head before padding quietly over to the bathroom. “Hey, Nadia--” Seeing the way the woman’s fingers trembled as they touched her face, Luce froze. “Are you okay?” She asked automatically, worry and concern leaking into her tone.

Shock at the sound of Luce’s voice was all it took for Nadia to regain control of the body. her hands were still shaking, her pulse rapid and her chest tight with a sense of anxiety that didn’t belong to her. Both hands went down to grasp at the sink. “Fine.” Her voice is rough, cracked in the middle. “Just a nightmare.” A nightmare would have been welcome. This had been the absence of anything, a realization that she’d been shuttered away in the back of Nadia Diaz’s mind, all because her body had gotten too comfortable during sleep. She tried to calm herself down, taking a few deep breaths. She was alive. She was real. She was alive. She looked over to Luce and noticed that the other woman was dressed. That was a relief. She needed to be alone, to find some semblance of control. “Heading out?” she asked, maneuvering passed the other woman back into the bedroom when the bathroom and her head began to feel distinctly too crowded.

In the bathroom lights, Luce could have sworn she’d seen a whole spectrum of emotions flicker across Nadia’s face-- dread, fear, confusion. But, when she’d spoken up, her hands had slipped down to cling to the bowl of the sink. And whatever Luce had thought she’d seen, it was gone. Tilting her head, she stared at the woman for a moment, concern still very much apparent. But, if Nadia said she was fine… She wasn’t going to pry. She wasn’t going to bother worrying about it because this didn’t mean anything. Swallowing, she shifted out of the doorway to let the woman slip by her. “Yeah. Got stuff to do in the morning.” Luce said with a shrug. “This was fun-- this bit. Count me out for the next time you decide to go digging around the cemetery.” She joked.

“Well, I won’t keep you,” Nadia said. She needed Luce to get out, needed to be alone and quiet or maybe really, really loud. If Luce didn’t leave soon, she’d leave herself. She didn’t care anymore. She was shaken. Sure, sometimes Nadia came back, broke free for a few seconds. It was never for long, though. This hadn’t been long, or maybe it had, and she just didn’t know it. Nadia still felt a bit trapped, even though she was the one who had control. This just meant no more Luce. Luce was officially on the same tier as the fucking banshee, though Nadia hadn’t decided if she’d kill this one or not. She could probably just push her away. That method had worked before. “I aim to please,” she teased lightly, though she didn’t look at the other woman. “Though, some people are just dying to hang around in cemeteries, you know.”

“You definitely do.” Luce replied with a crooked grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “In this town? Definitely. I’m good though.” She said as she made her way to the door. Hand poised on the doorknob, she paused for a moment, mulling over her words. She wanted to say something, felt like she should say something. Felt like she should try to… reassure Nadia. But, that was what had gotten her in that mess with Remmy, wasn’t it? Sending mixed signals? With a wave of her hand, Luce slipped out of the apartment. As the door shut behind her, she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Fuck. Taking the stairs two at a time, her mind raced all the same. Nothing about this night had been normal. From the motorcycle to the grave robbing to how… different Nadia had been that whole time? Something was off. Something was real fucking off. Maybe it wasn’t any of her business, but shit. She was going to figure out what was going on.

[kittinoir]

Echoes of You Ch. 11

Read on Ao3

Marinette sighed and tapped her pen against the half-filled page of diary. She was halfway through recording her day, but she kept getting distracted. Of course, Adrien had that effect - but not in the usual way.

He’d missed yet another half day of school that afternoon and, for once, he hadn’t been at fencing club when she’d gone with Nino and Alya to drop off his homework. Her friend’s hadn’t seemed to find it weird, but she’d never known Adrien to not keep to the schedule she’d somehow accidentally memorized. 

Nino had ended up taking the homework with him, saying they’d worked out a system for sneaking the missed work past his dad, and worse, his dad’s nosy assistant, Nathalie. It made sense, she guessed. Gabriel Agreste was known for his strict and solitary life-style. 

But still, she couldn’t help but worry.

Frowning, Marinette flipped her diary closed and put it back in its’ nifty lock box. She remembered making the box to thwart Chloe, but she thought she remembered making it with a friend. When she’d asked Alya about, though, she’d said no. Still, the box came in handy. She could only imagine what Chloe would do if she got her hands on it. Chloe was somehow the only person not in her circle of friends who knew about her monstrous crush on Adrien, but she’d decided it was beneath her notice. However, Marinette imagined the copious paragraphs in her diary describing that very crush would not be.

She left the diary on her desk for the dress form in the corner. It had the muslin mock up pinned to it with the sketch pinned to the wall behind it but the drawing was still woefully lacking details. Maybe choosing Chat Noir for inspiration had been a mistake. She paused in front of the sketch, tracing the now-familiar shapes with her eyes, but inspiration wouldn’t strike. She couldn’t stop thinking about…

Adrien.

“Maybe I’ll just drop by,” Marinette said out our, grabbing her purse. “Just for a second. With some pastries. Real casually. Friends can drop by, right?”

It was like missing a step, she thought briefly, as she paused by the trap door and found she felt like she was waiting for a response from an empty room. She frowned, but stopped again as she again caught sight of her purse. 

“Why…do I keep bringing this with me?” she wondered, unslinging it. “It’s empty.”

But it had felt natural, she realized, to grab it as she’d left. It did match her clothes, she guessed. Still, better to leave it at home.

“Hi, mom!” Only two customers were browsing the bakery this close to the dinner hour. Marinette was careful to circumvent them, ducking behind the counter as the bell over the shop door chimed and snagging a box on her way by.

Sabine shot her daughter a grin as she snagged a few pastries and layered them in the box. Marinette swallowed a smile as she included some passionfruit macarons and their world-famous croissants.

“Uh, excuse me?” Marinette jumped, whacking her head on the shelf and nearly dumping the pastries onto the floor. “Can I get some service here?”

Marinette straightened and squinted over the counter. “Chloe Bourgeois?”

Chloe rolled her eyes, but the move lacked the usual attitude, like her heart wasn’t really in it. “I need a dozen macarons and a dozen chocolate chip cookies.”

Marinette frowned, confused, but reached for a box. Rule Number One in the bakery was always help the customer - even if they were a pain in the butt from your class who had bullied you for literal years. 

Still, a small part of her couldn’t help but feel bad for Chloe. The girl had hurt her, yes, and she’d made terrible choices, but now she was suffering terrible consequences. If Chloe had been her normal over-bearing, bratty self, Marinette might have been able to ignore it, but she just…took it all so stoically. The cold stares. The snide comments. It was no less than Chloe had done to any of them, but…

It all came back to Adrien.

Marinette had never known him to turn his back on anyone. Not even Chloe, not even when she deserved it - until now.

Which was probably why Marinette did what she did next.

“How’re you doing?”

Chloe’s head snapped around to stare at her one-time rival. “Ex-cuse me?”

Marinette fought the urge to roll her eyes. “I asked how you’re doing. Have you been…ok?” It was stupid. She knew that even as she asked, but how else did one ask how a classmate was coping with being totally frozen out?

“I’m great, Dupain-Cheng,” Chloe snapped, snatching the box out of Marinette’s hands. “Thanks for asking.”

The other girl stormed over to the cash register and Marinette scowled, grabbing her own box of pastries. A waste of time to even ask. She ducked out the back door to avoid any more scathing comments and made for the metro that would deliver her neatly across the street from the Agreste mansion. She must have thought of a dozen things to say by the time she arrived, but as usual, as soon as those massive iron gates came into view, every single one evaporated. 

Except the usual flush of giddiness was tainted by…anxiety? No, stronger. Foreboding.

As Marinette stood across the street, taking in the manse, a flood of confusion and fear swept over her, a storm like she hadn’t experienced in weeks. Part of her wanted to sprint right back down those stairs and back home. She was back on the edge of that precipice.

‘CHAT NOIR!’ The girl’s scream echoed across the Pont Neuf. A flash of gold, a boy in black was knocked back again and again. She could do little but watch as she desperately tried to free herself. The boy stumbled again, his back against the shallow wall. She saw the monsters’ horrible grin, all those teeth, as it struck again. The boys’ baton snapped in two, and he fell.

The girl screamed again, frantic desperation lending her strength to finally free herself. She didn’t bother trying to follow him; she dove into the frigid black waters closest to her and swam. Her lungs were close to bursting when she finally found him, but her relief was short lived as green light suddenly illuminated the water, revealing a familiar face. Shock made her gasp, and as silver bubbles raced for the surface, they were both abruptly drowning.

The images, ragged and disjointed as they were, slipped through Marinette’s fingers before she could even fully recognize them.

“I…” She hooked a strand of hair behind her ear with one shaky hand. “What was…” A half-faded dream? More like a nightmare. She glanced at the house again, but whatever it was had passed; only faint, fragile anticipation remained.

Rallying her resolve, Marinette stepped forward onto the sidewalk - and promptly into someone as they made for the metro. She managed to snag the hand-rail and keep herself from pitching completely down the stairs, but the box of pastries was not so fortunate. Croissants and macarons spilled across the sidewalk and down into the metro station.

“Oh my god!” Heat spilled across Marinette’s face, but it was hardly the first time she’d run into someone - or dropped a box full of baked good. “I am so sorry. And so clumsy. Sorry.”

“You said that already,” the boy said, brushing off his ornate jacket. At least, she thought it was a boy; a Venetian mask covered his face and a hood obscured his hair. “Watch where you’re going.”

The blush only got stronger, but Marinette scowled as she stooped for her ruined box. It wasn’t like she’d run into the guy on purpose. He didn’t have to be rude about it. “I’m sorry,” she said one more time, if only because she didn’t know what else to say. “Is your jacket…”

“Fine,” the boy snapped, brushing the last bits of dirt only he could see from the material. He froze. “I know you.”

“Um…I don’t think so,” Marinette said, glancing up from her inspection. “I mean…I think I’d know if we were friends.” Besides, her friends knew how clumsy she was. They never would have given her a hard time about it.

“I didn’t say we were friends,” the boy said. He leaned in, the purple and gold lacquer on the mask glinting from the shadow of his hood in the late-afternoon sun. “You’re the one who’s in love with Adrien.”

Marinette’s eyes went wide, and she was fairly sure her blush had blown all the way up to her hairline. No one but her girls - and quite possibly Nino - knew that secret. No one.

“I don’t - I’m not - I don’t have a crunch - I mean, a crush,” Marinette spluttered, frantically re-arranging her pastry box. “Certainly not on Adrien. We’re just…we’re just very good friends.” The words were bitter even as she fibbed; she couldn’t say them without remembering the times Adrien had used that exact same phrase. The difference was he meant it.

“Mhmm.” The mask tilted. “Is that why you’re outside the Agreste mansion with a box of gourmet pastries?”

Marinette straightened with as much dignity as she could muster. “Who are you anyway?”

But the question would have to wait as a tell-tale rumble rippled across the cobble-stones. Cries rose in the air as the people in the street stumbled and clung to anything around them. Marinette elected to drop the box for a second time and cling to the railing rather than risk tumbling into the annoying stranger a second time. He, on the other hand, seemed to navigate the tremor with relative ease, cursing up a storm as he anticipated each roll of the street. 

“These attacks are getting closer and closer together,” Marinette growled as the tremors finally began to abate. “Doesn’t Hawkmoth have a hobby or a job other than terrorizing us?”

“Wish I knew,” the boy said, sounding about as pleased as she did. He glanced towards the Agreste mansion, almost as though that had been his destination as well, but ultimately ended up turning away - in the direction the tremors had come from. “See you around, Lovebug.”

“I am not his Lovebug!” Marinette stamped her foot. Deja vu swept in again, but dispersed as the rumbling started back up. “Wait!” She scrambled after the boy, not nearly as graceful as he was. “What are you doing! Are you crazy? You can’t go that way.”

“I’m crazy? You’re the one following me,” the boy said, glancing back at her over his shoulder. 

“Seriously,” Marinette said, reaching for the boys arm as she caught up. “You could get killed. At best you’ll be a distraction.”

The boy pulled his arm away, slipping out of her grasp as he rounded a corner as easily as if she were made of air. “Go away,” he snapped, an edge in his voice. “Go hide. Leave it to the heroes.”

Marinette balled up her fists, wishing she’d worn her purse after all just to keep her hands busy. “They’re just people,” she snapped, following him down an alley. “We have to help them. Staying out of their way - that’s the best we can do.”

“Not all of us.” The boy paused at the mouth of the alley, looking out into the street beyond. Marinette peered over his shoulder and cringed as she beheld the fight. 

It was already in full swing. Both Ladybug and Chat Noir were out there, but they were getting tossed around pretty badly. Any time they tried to co-ordinate an attack the akuma would engage them, preventing any progress. Ladybug looked better than the first time Marinette had seen her, but she seemed to be lashing out, more desperate than focused, more scared than confident. 

Chat Noir, for all his skill, couldn’t pick up the slack. He was trying to run defense, but Ladybug couldn’t seem to antipode either her enemy or her partner. It wasn’t going well.

The boy in the mask seemed to feel the same way. He looked back at Marinette again. She got the distinct impression he was appraising her, measuring her worth behind that inscrutable mask.

“If you could do more,” he finally said, “Would you?”

“I - ” She ducked as another tremor rocked the alley, but made herself nod. “If I could. They shouldn’t have to do this alone. I…I want to help.”

“Not afraid of joining the list of casualties you seem so convinced of?”

“I’d rather be on it and go down swinging,” Marinette said. She was surprised to find it was the truth. The boy seemed to believe her, too.

He reached inside his huge coat, rummaging around inside a satchel she hadn’t realized he’d been concealing. Marinette felt again like she was on the brink, but this time there was light at the bottom of the crevice, an answer to her question. The boy finally produced a little black box with decorative red scrollwork on top and held it out to her.

“You just carry those around with you?”

He ignored her. “Ladybug and Chat Noir need help, Lovebug -”

“Marinette,” she hissed though gritted teeth.

“They need help, Marinette,” he repeated, unphased. “Will you use the Miraculous of the mouse to aide them in saving Paris, your home?”

Marinette nodded. “I will.” For the first time, serenity surrounded her. Every step was new, but it was like she’d walked the path a million times before. She wasn’t sure where it lead, but she wasn’t afraid of what she’d find when she got there. 

“Will you return the Miraculous to me, Salem, when the fight is done?”

“I…I will,” Marinette said. Her pulse was steady, even. She was ready.

“Then I give you the Miraculous of the mouse,” Salem said, tilting the lid back. A floating mouse burst forth in flash of pink light. Marinette fell back in surprise, but managed to keep from freaking out. She’d accepted this. She would do it. And it didn’t seem interest in crawling through her clothes.

“Marinette!” the mouse chirped, swirling around her head. “Marinette!”

“Hi there,” Marinette said. She couldn’t help but smile; its excitement was infections. Suddenly she remembered Chat Noir’s conversation from a few nights ago: Multimouse, right? Right…this all seemed… right. A little familiar. Didn’t it? Or had she dreamt it? She wasn’t sure anymore.

“Say ‘Mullo, let’s get squeaky’ while wearing the necklace,” Salem instructed as she lifted the jewellery from the box. “She grants the power of multiplication, but we warned, you only have five minutes. Don’t mess it up.”

“She knows!” Mullo chirped, swirling to a stop. “Oh, she knows!”

For the first time, Marinette thought that maybe she might. “I’m ready,” she said with a tight nod. “Mullo, let’s get squeaky!”

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @1989dreamer!

I really wanted to write a sweet and gentle fic that fulfilled your wishlist. I hope you enjoy!

Read on AO3

*****

From Love not Lust

Stiles chewed on the top of his pen, inhaling the aroma of books and coffee as he sipped the mocha latte that was more chocolate than coffee, exactly how he liked it. It was half the reason he spent pretty much all his lunch breaks here. The other half was the sour-faced owner whose shadow fell over him at that moment.

Stiles ran a finger around the edge of his cup to scoop up the escaping whipped cream and licked it as he raised his gaze to meet Derek’s. “That’s a sour face for a warm autumn afternoon,” he offered brightly, the soft orange glow of the sun illuminating the store through the full glass frontage. When Derek just continued to glare at him with his dark green Books & Coffee apron that really complimented his stupidly beautiful eyes, Stiles took another swig of his mocha.

“Dude, what’s up?”

“What are you doing?” Derek asked darkly.

Stiles just blinked, because he came in here often enough for Derek not to question him. Sometimes he made a point of annoying Derek and sometimes he kept to himself, but either way Derek had pretty much grown used to his presence. He’d probably considered it a high risk factor when he and Cora had decided to return to Beacon Hills, along with Isaac, to turn the old abandoned book store into Books & Coffee.

It’d been on a whim of Cora’s, Isaac had confided to Stiles on his first visit, when he’d been home from college to visit his dad almost five years ago.

Sitting there now, on his lunch break wearing his deputy uniform, it was hard to imagine a time when it’d all felt shiny and new. It felt like it’d always been here, with its warm buzz of lunchtime business and familiar regulars.

Stiles watched Cora and Isaac showcase their usual workplace romance as they moved in perfect tandem together behind the counter, with Cora working the cash register and Isaac passing over his meticulously prepared pastries and cakes. Apparently it was something Isaac had done with his mom as a kid and had picked back up while he was incommunicado. They were the kind of sickening, cute kind of happy where they ribbed each other with gentle little jibes and glittery damn eyes. It was the kind of love only two people that had lost everything, healed and then found each other could possess.

Even Derek was softer around the edges these days. True he kept to the book side of the shop mostly, stocking and restocking, organizing the titles and on the rare occasion offering recommendations on books. But he was more relaxed, more at peace with himself in the calm quiet that had become Beacon Hills in the last few years. He seemed pretty content, like he’d found an inner strength and tranquility. Even when he was scowling down at Stiles as if he’d just set the store on fire.

“I’m drinking my mocha and reading my book, the same as I do everyday,” Stiles answered wryly.

“What are you doing with the pen?” Derek demanded through gritted teeth.

Stiles twirled the ballpoint absently, before the question registered in his mind. “Oh, I guess…annotating?”

Derek’s nostrils flared, dark brows drawing together in a familiar scowl that had long since lost its effect on Stiles. “You’re writing and doodling all over the books.”

“Only the margins. Mostly. And anyway it’s not like it’s one of yours. Or…well it was. It’s the one I bought a week or so ago. You know, the one you sold me?”

“I know what book it is,” Derek said curtly, gesturing at the copy of Northern Lights open on the table with a look of restrained dismay. “You can’t just…” He set his teeth. “They’re not for writing in like you’re some high school kid.”

A small, fond smile crept across Stiles’s lips. “You’re like…a real little bookworm huh? A guardian of paperbacks.”

Derek’s scowl intensified and Stiles gave a soft laugh. He swore the affection in it made Derek’s cheeks colour, just a bit. Setting down the pen with a self-deprecating little sigh, Stiles dragged his hand through his hair. “It’s just something I used to do when I was a kid. I used to highlight bits I liked, bits I didn’t, noted down my thoughts on things in the margin.” He shrugged. “Sometimes thoughts about the book, sometimes just what I had going on in my head.”

Derek stared at him in that carefully blank way he always did when a million thoughts were flittering through his mind. His lips parted abortively and he gave Stiles a short nod, nostrils flaring again before he turned and headed back into the bookshelves.

“He caught you doodling in a book?” Cora offered with a raised brow when he went to grab a second coffee to-go on his way back to work. “I’m surprised he didn’t rip your throat out. I dog-eared his copy of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe when we were kids instead of using a bookmark and he shifted right in the middle of the living room and tackled me to the ground.”

Stiles’s lips quirked. “Was this really when you were kids? Or was it last week?”

Cora laughed, eyes sparkling in the same way Derek’s did.

*

Stiles finished the book a week or so later. He was parked in his usual spot in the corner by the bookshelves, just killing time until his dad came off shift so they could go to dinner together and he sat back as he finished scrawling his final notes on the back pages.

“How did you get into it?” Derek asked as he took the seat opposite him at the little round table. “Writing in the books.”

Stiles shrugged. “I found it helped me focus on the story if I could jot my thoughts rambling through my head down, keep them to one side as I read, I guess.” He gave a sad little smile. “There are books and books somewhere from just after my mom died where I’d write my feelings down, the ones I couldn’t express out loud, you know? My dad kept them.”

Dark brows drew together. “So…it’s only a sad thing then?”

“It used to be. But lately I just find I enjoy it, I guess.” He chews his lips for a moment, thinking, before asking, “I was wondering why Pullman spelled it ‘daemon’. So I looked it up. Supposedly the way we usually spell it refers to purely an evil spirit, but the way Pullman spells it refers to a benign supernatural creature. And I got to thinking, are werewolves ‘daemons’ in that case?”

His question was mostly rhetorical, but something in Derek seemed to brighten in response. When he responded, they grew locked in a conversation that carried them far into the evening hours.

They sat together for some time, until the shop was nearly empty and close to closing. Derek, Isaac and Cora took turns doing the closing shift and it seemed Derek was the only one manning the floor tonight. He and Stiles talked, or bantered as they usually did but then a question Stiles had always wanted to ask came to his lips unbidden.

“Why did you buy this place if you don’t like people?”

Derek blinked with an odd, surprised little expression that made him look years younger, the look Stiles had only seen there a handful of times before.

“I didn’t care what we did when we came back, only that we did,” Derek replied simply, looking just left of him to avoid looking in his eyes. “But Cora likes to be surrounded by people and Isaac had been studying food when we caught up with him. So when Cora saw the old bookstore was still abandoned she wanted to buy it.”

Stiles offered him a teasing grin. “So Cora wanted pastries for Isaac and books for you?”

Something like a smile flickered at the corners of Derek’s mouth. “Something like that.”

Out the front windows, Stiles saw his dad’s cruiser pull up and he rose to his feet and headed for the door. “See you tomorrow then. I’ll probably have to buy the next one if you have it?” He waved the book in his hand demonstratively.

Derek looked awkward for a moment, but then reached behind the corner and withdrew another paperback. “I thought you might so…” He came to stand in front of Stiles, uncertain and stiff as he offered him the book.

When Stiles took the copy of The Subtle Knife and flicked through it instinctively, he saw neat red writing in the margins. His heart skipped.

Derek had re-read the book and put notes in the margins. His thoughts, his feelings. For him. Stiles was the one to flounder in surprise then, lips moving soundlessly, speechless for one of the first times in his life. Before he could find his words, however, Derek spoke.

“Can I read it? What you wrote?” He tipped his chin toward the copy of Northern Lights tucked under Stiles’s arm.

Stiles hesitated for just a beat. “I show you mine and you show me yours, huh?” He smirked, passing the book over.

Their fingers brushed as Derek took hold of the pages holding Stiles’s personal thoughts and feelings. The highlighted quotes that had stood out to him, the silly little passing thoughts that had occurred to him that were completely irrelevant as he read. He passed them into Derek’s hands and offered him a little quirk of a smile as he stepped through the door and out into the night.

*

It became a thing after that, the book sharing. He and Derek read all kinds of books, made notes in the margins of their thoughts while reading, sometimes in regards to the book, sometimes just thoughts in general. Sometimes Stiles even left little doodles for him.

When Stiles was particularly stressed at work, a lot of his notes in A Feast for Crows were full of nervous ramblings about his fears of never living up to his dad’s reputation or wishing he were stronger, faster, better. They were like letters, he supposed, only better because this way he could be as obscure or as blatant as he liked. Sometimes he circled single words that fit his mood on the page or sometimes he highlighted entire passages that spoke to him.

Sometimes he liked the books Derek picked, sometimes he didn’t. The journey through them was always fascinating though, enhanced by the glimpses into Derek’s private thoughts, the things he related to, the things that he connected with. Their debates on each other’s notes often carried them well beyond the shop’s closing time and he got to see Derek animated and enthusiastic, open and passionate in a way he thought few people had ever seen.

It felt like a precious intimate connection, a bond solidifying between them with every word. And he had bonded with Scott over video games and movies and with Lydia over saving the world but this was different. It was more and sometimes, when Derek had to help serve customers in between their conversations, he would glance up and find those stunning eyes riveted to him.

He’d always found Derek attractive, who wouldn’t? But what he felt when their eyes met wasn’t just an awkward rush of ill-timed physical appreciation. That focus, that connection made something in his stomach quiver blissfully, warm and fluttering, until his breathing came out in little shudders and his face heated with feelings he didn’t quite understand.

*

He realised just how strong that connection had grown over the Fourth of July weekend. Buried in the paperwork of his fellow deputies who had fallen prey to the virus travelling around the station, his head was pounding with stress and fatigue when he glanced up and started at the sight of Derek in front of his desk. He was standing there in just a t-shirt and jeans, a not-quite smile on his face, a cup holder with three tall coffees in one hand and a couple of large paper bags with Books & Coffee printed across them.

Stiles had worked so much overtime in the last few days and his brain was so fried that at that moment he felt he might cry with relief at the sight of him. “Dude, I love you,” he groaned appreciatively, making grabby hands for the reusable coffee cup that had ‘Stiles’ scrawled across it with a Sharpie in Cora’s neat script. His coffee cup she always served him his coffee in - containing his coffee order. He sipped at it greedily and groaned aloud in sweet bliss.

Derek’s expression had that familiar warmth to it, even as he said dryly, “well, we were thinking of expanding into deliveries so we figured we’d make you the test run.”

Stiles frantically cleared a space for Derek to sit at his desk with him with his free hand, without relinquishing his coffee.

“Sandwiches in one, doughnuts in the other,” Derek said as he set the two bags down and sat in the chair opposite Stiles. He placed the book that had been tucked under his arm beside them too and Stiles’s heart skipped.

Derek had brought their ‘book lunch’ to him. And Derek was looking at him curiously so Stiles was sure his burning face and skittering breath were giving him away. Luckily, his growling stomach saved him from having to make any excuses. He set his coffee down reluctantly to reach for a sandwich portion with one hand and a doughnut with the other.

“You are literally my new favourite,” Stiles crooned, devouring the entire sandwich half in a few bites before rounding on the doughnut. “Mmm, talk, talk so I know you’re not staring at me in silent horror at my appalling eating habits.”

Derek laughed softly, ducking his head as he shook it in disbelief and opened up his own sandwich. “I was literally raised by wolves,” he deadpanned. “Our Sunday family dinners were like a free-for-all.”

A snort of laughter burst out of Stiles unbidden. The image of a young Derek fighting his sisters for the last potato or slice of beef had done it, offered so freely by Derek himself and with one of those private little smiles that seemed to be made just for him.

“Did book group come to me today?” Stiles asked, when all his half of the sandwiches were gone and he was more than half way through their coffee. He tilted his chin at the book on the table.

“I’m not sure if you’re up to this reading level, if I need to explain to you the definition of a ‘group’.”

“We can be a book couple then,” Stiles waved him off, delighting in the way Derek fidgeted awkwardly in his seat. “I’ll grab yours out of the Jeep before you go. It’s one of my favourites.”

Derek nodded, passing his book over to Stiles. There was an odd little frisson of tension in him as Stiles pulled it into his lap. Divergent by Veronica Roth. But as Stiles opened the cover and started to flick idly through it as he took another doughnut, Derek rose to his feet.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“I brought enough for your dad too,” Derek said, too quickly, as he plucked up one of the now empty sandwich plates and set a couple of doughnuts on it before heading toward the main office. “Don’t eat all the glazed ones.”

Stiles hurriedly stuffed the rest of the one he’d been eating into his mouth and grabbed another as he browsed the pages of Derek’s book choice. He glimpsed a few random notes about people not putting books back in the proper section, as well as actual annotations on what the characters were up to on the page. But when Stiles came to a chapter that seemed quite thin on notes, he spotted a dark scribble in the margin that completely obscured whatever Derek had written there before. Next to it was an asterisk, one that corresponded to a line from the text that was underlined with stark red ink.

‘Something about him makes me feel like I am about to fall. Or turn to liquid. Or burst into flames.’

Stiles lifted his head slowly, the world seeming to whirl into slow motion as he watched Derek through the windows in his dad’s office, watched him smile politely at his dad, watched his dad tuck into one of the doughnuts he’d been given.

What had Derek felt when reading that line that had made it stand out? And why had he changed his mind about letting Stiles know his thoughts on it?

In a total contradiction to his character, he didn’t ask.

*

When the air turned cold with the approach of winter, Stiles felt a warmth unrelated to the perfect mocha and the scarf Lydia bought him for Christmas last year when Derek joined him for lunch at Books & Coffee on Stiles’s day off.

Isaac didn’t serve anything more than cakes, pastries or cookies but he always rustled up some sandwiches for the staff lunches. Apparently Stiles counted as staff, since Isaac had set the BLT to end all BLTs in front of him not long after he’d taken his usual seat. Isaac didn’t though and when he disappeared back behind the counter on the far side, Stiles couldn’t help but notice that Derek was a little tense. His brow was furrowed in a frown that Stiles hadn’t seen on his face for months, one that spoke of uncertainty and worry. He had a book in his hand but he didn’t pass it to Stiles right away.

If Stiles had learned anything over the years, however, it was how to deal with sour-wolves.

His mouth ran away with him as it always did. He was on to rambling about the increase in stray cats being related to them finally setting the Nemeton to sleep a few years ago before Derek finally seemed to find his words.

“That scarf. It’s not really your style.”

Stiles blinked at the randomness of the insult. Huh. “You don’t like my scarf?” He wasn’t really a scarf man to be fair, but it was understated, universal and cosy and he hated the cold.

Derek grit his teeth, dragging a hand over the back of his neck as if he were annoyed with himself. “No, I…I didn’t…” He exhaled through his nose. “It’s a nice scarf, I just didn’t think you’d pick something like that, that’s all.”

“Because it’s nice?” Stiles teased with a raises brow.

Derek’s lips twitched, his unease dwindling a little at Stiles’s mischievous tone. “Well it doesn’t have a novelty print on for a start.”

Stiles laughed and he swore Derek averted his gaze at the sound but he couldn’t quite be sure. “Lydia bought it for me last Christmas; she knows I hate the cold. I have a beanie that goes with it but I guess I took it off before you saw.”

Derek’s face became unreadable at that and his fingers wrapped around the book on the table in front of him distractedly, still shielding the title from Stiles’s view.

“She loves you.” It wasn’t a question. It also wasn’t exactly wrong.

“We love each other. She’s…well after all we’ve been through, she was there for me when no one else was. And when I went away to college, she always made an effort, you know?” He grimaced a little. “I mean I love Scott too, you know I do. But, well…” He shrugged. “I’d die for Scotty, and he’d do the same for me, but our friendship changed. So did my relationship with Lydia. Just…I think when Scott became the alpha, his priorities had to change and that’s fine, but Lydia has always made me a priority, even when we both realised we loved each other more like a brother and sister than a girlfriend and boyfriend.”

Scotty was still his best guy, Lydia was just better for him. She knew that perfect balance of how to take care of him and how to give him freedom. Plus she had a tongue sharper than his and the same dry sense of humour.

“That’s life I suppose,” Derek murmured after a thoughtful moment. “Our relationships with people change as we find out who we really are.” His face looked dark all of a sudden.

“Like me and you?” Stiles prodded gently, a whisper of a smile accenting his words to try and banish the heavy atmosphere that had settled between them. “I bet you never thought you’d be spending your Saturdays with me when you first laid eyes on me in those woods all those years ago, huh?”

Derek studied him for a beat, but then something in him relaxed a fraction. He set his elbows on the table and folded his fingers just under his mouth. His eyes were sort of hazel-green. They almost had flecks of burnished gold in, Stiles thought. He’d never noticed before.

“You’re quite welcome to spend your Saturday with someone else if you’ve got a better option.” Derek’s words carried that familiar biting, teasing tone that he often used with Stiles, the one that made Stiles’s insides twitch. But Stiles thought there was something else there too. He wasn’t an idiot but Derek was still holding back. He’d been hurt before and Stiles knew, because he was nosy, that Derek hadn’t been with anyone since his fling with Braeden years ago. So if Derek needed time, he’d be patient. Let him move at his pace. Stiles was in no hurry.

“Nah, I’ll keep my harem as back up if you ever realise what a dork I am.”

Derek laughed, soft and breathy and his cheeks suffused with a barely-there hint of pink. “I know you’re a dork.” With that, he nudged the book in front of him across the clean table and Stiles finally looked at the cover.

The King’s Name by Jo Walton. He’d never heard of it before. He told Derek as much with eager delight, always excited to find something new. The books that Derek picked revealed so much, he thought. About what he liked, what he didn’t. That was the reason he felt a personal rush when he handed over a new book.

Sometimes it meant more than others. Like now, for example, he grinned devilishly as Derek opened his copy of The Wolfman by Jonathan Maberry that Stiles had given him, outright laughing when Derek scowled at the note inside the front page:

Just for the LOLs.

Today his book was just for fun. But he couldn’t guess what Derek would read from Stiles’s notes throughout.

Judging by Derek’s hesitance to hand his book over though, it meant something more profound to him. Something so important he was nervous to share. He kept glancing at it as they talked over coffee and their sandwiches, as if he wanted to snatch it back and change his mind. Stiles subtly tucked his elbow on top. That baby was his.

*

Stiles read the book and Derek didn’t have to spell it out for him in exact words in the margins for him to get why Derek gave it to him.

It’d been a while since he had needed to unleash his ‘Google-Fu’ but by the time the sky had started to thin into pinkish pre-dawn, he’d found his way through most of the reputable websites it had to offer, as well as a few disreputable ones.

By the time the alarm meant to wake him sounded, he’d found himself reading through the forum for Beacon County’s AAA, Aromantic Asexual Alliance. Thankfully it was his day off. One of the few days he and his dad had off at the same time and so the day of the annual Stilinski breakfast. His stomach growled in anticipation of sustenance because he hadn’t moved since he’d sat down in his chair last night, after he’d read enough of the book, enough of Derek’s seemingly inconsequential annotations to understand exactly why he’d chosen it.

He glanced at the clock in the corner of his screen, running his knuckles absently across his lips as he thought.

He bookmarked the forum for reading later and headed out for a shower before his dad got up and realised he hadn’t been to bed.

*

In typical Stiles research mode, he found out everything he could. After breakfast with his dad, he made an excuse abouting trying to Skype Lydia then shut himself away until dinner, soaking up information like a sponge to water.

As predicted the AAA forum for Beacon County was the most helpful, run by real people with real experiences. While it didn’t tell him everything, it told him a lot. He discovered how different people who identified as asexual or aromantic could be. He learned that some people were indifferent to sex, while some were actively repulsed by it, could feel a mixture of the two on any given day.

He wondered what Derek liked, what he didn’t. Then he got caught up in thoughts of Derek’s fling with Braeden, the thrall Jennifer Blake had ensnared him with, the just sixteen year-old Derek and everything Kate had done to him on the back of his innocent high school romance that had been cut fatally short.

His thoughts kept him up well into the night, swirling around and around in his head. He rolled over onto his side at around two in the morning and found himself staring at the shiny hardback copy of Allegiant, the third book in the series Derek had started him on. He hadn’t started it yet, had been intending to make it his next book to share with Derek, a fitting choice, he’d thought. He snatched it up, flicked the light on and dug around in his bedside drawer for his favourite yellow highlighter, Then he snuggled down into his blankets as he started to read.

He sank into the story, jotting down his thoughts of Derek and the thousand questions he wanted to ask him but didn’t know how to phrase respectfully aloud. The things he thought he should ask, thought he shouldn’t ask. They occurred to him at random, often nothing to do with what was on the page. But he still highlighted the lines or passages that spoke to him. That fit them.

‘We are not people who touch each other carelessly; every point of contact between us feels important, a rush of energy and relief.’

Are you asexual? Aromantic? Somewhere in between?

‘It is the same urge, I realize, that makes me want to kiss her every time I see her, because even a sliver of distance between us is infuriating.’

Does sex repulse you? Or is it just like meh?

‘Yes, well, I realized that we’ve never been on an actual date.’

Dude, we’ve totally been dating the last few months without realising. And I like that. I think you liked it too?

‘”Why’s he bleeding?”

“Because he’s an idiot.”’

This line gives me dejavu. Multiple dejavus actually.

‘I feel like, if I read this book, I can reach backward through all the generations of humanity to the very first one, wherever it was—that I can participate in something many times larger and older than myself.’

I am so hungry right now. But the kitchen is so far away. I think I have half a packet of Oreos in my bag. They’re probably still good.

‘How many young men fear that there is a monster inside them?’

How long were you internalising all your confusion and fear about this before you figured it out?

‘Her absence stings worst of all.’

I miss you sometimes. Even when I’ve just seen you. That’s weird, isn’t it?

‘How have I never realized before that for all the strong, kind parts of him, there are also hurting, broken parts?’

I’m not afraid of any part of you, you know? Or repulsed by you. I think all parts of you are pretty beautiful actually.

‘“A group of scientists told you that my genes were damaged, that there was something wrong with me–’

You know there’s nothing wrong with you, don’t you?

‘“That you’re whole, that you’re worth loving, that you’re the best person I’ve ever known.”’

I can research until my eyes start bleeding but no internet forum or web article is going to tell me the most important thing, which is what you like and what you don’t. How you feel about me.

*

By Sunday evening he’d finished the book and found himself worrying about his usual lunch with Derek the next day. Worrying about all the ways he could be an insensitive prick with verbal diarrhoea and say something accidentally offensive or ignorant or just plain stupid.

He’d been staring at the closed book for nearly an hour before he made a decision.

His dad was on shift that night, so he took him his dinner via the Tupperware and on his way back, he stopped at Derek’s apartment that he shared with Cora and Isaac. It was a sprawling converted loft apartment above the shop that spanned over two floors.

Of course he wasn’t in. Apparently he was picking up some new books with Cora from the city but Isaac let him in and Stiles left Allegiant on Derek’s bed before ducking out, knowing Isaac would respect Derek’s privacy and not touch it.

It occured to him as he climbed back into his car that Derek might be overthinking things even more than him, second-guessing revealing such a personal part of him to Stiles and so on impulse he sent him a quick breezy text.

Bring me back a present from the big city!

*

He woke the next morning to his reply.

You better not have touched anything when you were in my room.

Stiles continued to grin all the way to the station, his anxiety that he’d written the wrong thing or completely misjudged the situation appeased by the easy teasing he could hear from Derek even in a text.

*

Of course that was the one day all the criminals in Beacon Hills decided to make themselves known. Stiles didn’t stop all day and his lunch break was instead occupied with an aggressive shoplifter as high as a kite. It took three of them to subdue him, because whatever he’d taken had made him not know how to stop, even though he’d nearly given himself a broken nose on the pavement by the time they managed to get him into a cell to cool down.

Stiles did manage to shoot Derek a hasty text before leaping to aid the front desk with aggressive high shoplifter’s even more aggressive mother, who’d stormed the station after he’d been booked.

It’s crazy here today. Can’t do lunch. Meet me after?

By the time he got to go home, his cell battery had died, he was starving and restless from bad station coffee. But all of that fell away when he walked out the front doors and saw Derek leaning up against his Jeep. He was dressed in a dark grey sweater that made him look so soft and cosy that Stiles just wanted to sink into him.

He was stiff, apprehensive as Stiles approached, but there was also that barely there little smile that he reserved just for Stiles.

“Have you been waiting out here for me my entire shift?” Stiles asked apologetically.

Derek shrugged. “I waited here for a bit, then I heard your dad say if you weren’t out of there in twenty he would fire you, so I took my chances and hit the drive-thru down the street.”

It was then that Stiles saw the bag hanging from his hand.

He snatched it from him and unlocked the Jeep, not even protesting when Derek slid into the driver’s side so he could ride shotgun and devour the burger and extra large fries within. “I’m not even going to pretend to be pissed at your supernatural eavesdropping if it means you always know when to bring me food.”

Derek rolled his eyes and took the keys to start the ignition. As he pulled out onto the road though, he seemed on the precipice of speech for some time. It wasn’t until they approached the first junction that he asked, “can we…go somewhere?”

Stiles only hesitated a moment before nodding, his mouth full. Then he flicked the heater on to ward off the biting evening chill. Derek glanced at him, clearly giving him a once over before he took a left at the lights.

When Stiles realised, even in the dark that they weren’t heading for Derek’s place or downtown or even the preserve he paused between bites. “So…did you mean ‘go somewhere’ to bury my body?”

“We’re heading to your house,” Derek replied without looking away from the road, his voice giving nothing away. “You’re not dressed for anything else.”

Stiles snorted. “Is that you refraining from scolding me for forgetting my coat?” When Derek didn’t reply, the next words fall out of Stiles’s mouth, unbidden. “Don’t you like me in my uniform?”

He panicked internally as he thought of how stupid that was to say, especially given the conversation they were likely to have imminently. Especially since he didn’t know where Derek stood on that stuff. Had he just made Derek really uncomfortable? Before he could scramble to apologise, he just caught Derek side-eyeing him in a way that Stiles could only identify as appreciative.

So…not uncomfortable then. A bit embarrassed at being caught out, most likely, but most definitely not uninterested or unaffected.

His dad was back at the station still, so the house was quiet when they stepped inside. Stiles grabbed two sodas from the fridge and offered one to Derek, who took it silently leaving Stiles to dither on the spot for a moment before leading him into the living room.

He was equal parts relieved and reassured when Derek took the seat beside him on the sofa.

They sat there for a while, consumed by silence and the knowledge that what came next would determine their relationship. It didn’t help that neither of them were particularly well-versed in saying the right thing.

In the end, Stiles stared at the place where he was rubbing his palms together, fingers fidgeting with each pass before he managed, “did you…read the book?”

Derek exhaled slowly. “I read what you wrote.”

Stiles stopped, turning his head slightly from where he was leaning forward to meet Derek’s eyes. He still couldn’t make out what was going on behind them. He licked his dry lips. “Do you…? I mean…” He sighed in frustration and sat back to look at Derek fully. “Oh god, are you pissed at me? Did I completely misread the situation? About you? About…me and you?”

Derek seemed to startle a little at the bluntness, floundering for words.

Stiles showed restraint and patience for the first time in his life and waited.

“You didn’t misread anything.” His fingers worried the neck of the unopened bottle in his hands, almost just to anchor himself in that moment. He seemed to study it for a long time, the longest Stiles himself had ever sat still and silent in his life. Then, softly, carefully, Derek’s voice eased into the quiet again. “While Cora and I were in South America, we spent some time with a pack there.”

Stiles nodded, refraining from reminding Derek that he knew this, that he and Derek had even talked about the pack and the way they ran things down there.

“Two of the betas there, the ones that we stayed with while we visited, they were ace.” Derek still didn’t look up but his tone remained even. He wasn’t distressed, wasn’t worried in any way. It was just hard for him to explain, Stiles realised, to put into words something that was so natural, so innate to him that it eluded simple explanation. Because Derek had never had to put it into words for anyone before.

“When I realised what that meant, it felt like the validation I’d been waiting for my whole life.”

Stiles nodded thoughtfully. “And you…I mean I know all of the things it can mean, but what does it mean for you?”

Derek turned his face to look at him at last, calm and entirely comfortable in his own skin and so different to the scared, uncertain young man Stiles had seen in the woods the day after Peter had attacked Scott. He wasn’t confused about what he felt, he wasn’t lost. He’d spent that time in South America and even the last few years here finding himself.

“I just don’t want sex,” he said. “I don’t think I ever did.”

Stiles didn’t have to ask to understand the unspoken truth in those words, to understand the confusion and inexperience that had driven a more vulnerable, younger Derek to believe sex was the only way to make connections. He wondered about the journey that Derek had taken to this well-adjusted man in front of him. Derek had told him so much already but there was a lot he felt he’d yet to learn.

“So it’s not repulsive to you? You just…don’t want to?”

“I’m not disgusted by the idea of it I’m…Eloa and Lucas, the couple we stayed with–”

“The ace couple?”

Derek’s lips twitched, obviously pleased at the sound of that word coming so easily to Stiles’s lips. Derek knew him well enough to know he had spent every spare moment in the last couple of days researching frantically for every scrap of information he could find. There was a fond appreciation clear on his face as he replied, “yes. They called it being ‘sex positive.’ I’m not disgusted by it, I just don’t want to do it.” His gaze wavered briefly.

“I used to force myself to, when I liked someone, like that was the only way I knew how to feel…” He cleared his throat, shrugging slightly. “So I did it. But it turned things sour and it wasn’t until South America that I started to realise why.” Derek hesitated, searching Stiles’s eyes before he added more softly, more vulnerably. “I don’t want that with you.”

Exhaling shakily, his voice husky with caged emotion, Stiles asked, “and what do you want with me, exactly?” He had to be sure. “I’ve got quite the overactive imagination; you’ll probably have to spell it out for me. Just in case.”

Derek’s gaze turned molten with tenderness, burnished gold-green-brown alight with affection that makes Stiles’s heart flutter. “I can show you?”

Stiles couldn’t breathe.

Derek’s thick lashes fluttered as he leaned in, tentatively cupping the back of Stiles’s neck. He edged in, so slow, as if he were wading into unfamiliar waters until their lips brushed. It was all tenderness, sweet and soft. It made Stiles’s skin prickle all over with warmth, Derek’s thumb brushing his cheek. Derek drew back to look into his eyes, to ask a million silent questions, and to each one the answer was yes.

When Derek leaned back in Stiles exhaled shakily, not from arousal but from the sheer overwhelming intimacy of it as Derek rubbed his cheek against Stiles’s. His beard was just long enough to be a soft prickle against Stiles’s cheekbone, his jaw, his neck. It was like scenting, more personal than any French kiss or messy tumble through the sheets. Because this was Derek, holding him close, nuzzling into his hair and kissing the side of his mouth, his cheek, breathing him in like he was the first breath of clean air after a lifetime of living underground.

He wasn’t entirely sure where to put his hands, or how far was too far for Derek, how much would be too sexual. But the hunger he felt wasn’t for sex so much as to hold Derek as close as Derek was holding him. To show him, to make his head spin the same way that Stiles’s did.

“Is this what you like?” he asked breathlessly, kissing Derek’s lips gently, softly dragging his nose along the line of Derek’s. He brought his own hand up to stroke down the back of Derek’s head through his hair, before letting his fingers cup Derek’s nape in a mirror of the hand curled around his own.

Derek melted into him, the strings of apprehension that had been holding him back sagging with relief. “I like that,” he assured Stiles, voice low yet soft with emotion. He’d undoubtedly had experience with relationships more to his taste since South America; with how confident he was in what he liked and what he didn’t. By the way his breath skittered against Stiles’s cheek as their foreheads touched, however, by the way his fingers gripped Stiles’s hair, like he was barely in control, Stiles knew he’d never felt quite like this.

Neither of them had ever felt like this before.

Just like that, Derek showed Stiles how he liked intimacy, physical contact, kisses and the way Stiles nuzzled behind his ear. He liked the way Stiles pressed against his neck and just breathed there, warm and close.

Stiles felt flushed all over, arms finding their way around Derek, gently, hesitantly, looking for any cue that Derek might not be comfortable.

“Can we...lie down?” Stiles asks in a barely there voice. “Is that…?”

“Yeah,” Derek drew back to study him, “yeah that’s…yeah.”

Grinning at Derek’s inarticulacy, Stiles shimmied down the worn, comfy sofa, fitting into the shape of Derek’s body when he lay down beside him. It was awkward at first, not the least because they were two full-grown men squeezed onto one sofa, but also because at first Stiles wasn’t sure how close to press, or where. He was definitely over thinking this but he couldn’t stop, he wanted to do this right and…

Then Derek’s arm came around him, as much to hold him close as to stop him from falling off the sofa onto the floor. Stiles gave a little huff of laughter into the hollow of his throat and just relaxed against him, one arm trapped between them, the other settling against Derek’s chest, his ever-moving fingers fiddling distractedly with the collar of Derek’s sweater.

They stayed like that for a while, melting together in the cosy quiet of the house. At some point, Stiles let his eyes fall shut to the sound of Derek’s heart thudding close to his ear. He murmured soft questions into the fabric covering Derek’s shoulder and Derek answered every one as easy as breathing.

“So we could do this like…in a bed and that’d be cool?”

“Mmm,” Derek answered the affirmative.

“What if I accidentally touched your butt or something? Or if you saw me naked?”

Derek gave a snort of amusement. “As long as you didn’t expect sex it doesn’t matter to me. I won’t be…offended by it. It’s hard to be uncomfortable about your body or nudity in general when you’re a werewolf. That’s not what it’s about for me. We’re naturally comfortable with all of that.”

“Supernaturally, even.”

Stiles didn’t have to see Derek’s face to know he was rolling his eyes.

“So if I like, stayed over, or you stayed over here or in the far future we lived together like an old married couple – or hypothetically were an old married couple – and I jerked off in the shower and you happened to overhear?”

Derek shrugged, still not seeming too perturbed. “I would give you privacy. It wouldn’t matter as long as you didn’t do it with me next to you or pressure me to join you.”

Frowning, Stiles lifted his head. “I would never pressure you, ever. And if I ever do it by accident I’d want you to tell me, because there are some things even Google doesn’t know, dude. All the research in the world isn’t going to tell me everything I need to know about what’s okay for you and what isn’t.”

Derek pushed up then, the movement forcing Stiles to edge onto his back on the sofa with Derek hovering over him, so that he could look into his eyes when he spoke again. “I just…you’ve got a sexual appetite and I don’t have a problem with it, Stiles. I’m not going to lose my shit any time it surfaces. It’s a part of you. I just need to know…”

For the first time that night, Derek sounded unsure of himself and Stiles could practically read the unspoken ‘is this too much to ask?’ in his voice. “I need to be sure you know what we’re getting into here. What I can offer you, what I can’t. It’s not personal but I’m never going to want to have sex with you. Not because I’m not attracted to you, or that I don’t want you, but because…” He winced as he struggled for words, “because I express closeness in a different way. I don’t need or want sex to validate how I feel about you.”

Stiles wondered if Derek realised he hadn’t actually said how he feels felt him yet. His lips parted to say just that but Derek cut him off.

“I know that…to some people who feel a desire for sex it can feel like…settling. And I didn’t want to ask you to give up something you like. So I didn’t ask. For a long time.”

Stiles exhaled shakily, gently squeezing Derek’s shoulders so that they could roll back up to sit next to each other, still touching, still close, but able to look each other in the eye from the same level which felt important at that moment.

“I’m glad you asked. Because if you think I wouldn’t give up having sex once or twice a week or whatever to do this–” Stiles gestured between them, to their easy proximity, the place where they’d been cuddling moments before, “–with you then I think you’re not clear on how I feel about you either.” He swallowed thickly. “I wouldn’t consider it as ‘giving up’ anything. Not really.”

Derek looked a little flushed, his eyes bright with the soft glow of the lamplight. He was trying to tell Stiles that this was ‘all’ he could ever give him, but Stiles was trying to show him that there was no sacrifice in that. Not to him. It was just something they didn’t feel the same about, a difference in desires in just one aspect of their lives and it was a fairly significant difference, but it wasn’t everything. It didn’t counter all the other ways that they did fit together.

He didn’t feel restrained or awkward or hungry for something Derek couldn’t give. He just wanted to be with him, everyday, as close as Derek would have him.

It would probably take some time for them both to understand each other’s feelings, their likes or dislikes, but that was a part of any relationship, with or without sex.

“I’m not saying it’s not going to be an adjustment,” Stiles said, “that I won’t fuck up sometimes, because yeah I do find you attractive in all ways. Sexually included, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to pressure you or resent you. It doesn’t mean I don’t want to see where this goes. I want you. What I feel for you, this closeness we have? It comes from love, not lust.”

It wasn’t a passionate inferno that was going to burn out in a few weeks or months, but a warm, glowing heat they could cultivate and sink into, wake up to every morning and fall asleep with every night.

“Am I going to have to go get a book so we can iron out the creases?” Stiles mused.

Derek looked thoughtful for a moment. “Not tonight.” He smirked. “I have to finish the last book first.”

Stiles laughed, and on impulse, leaned in to kiss the corner of Derek’s mouth. Derek looked pleased, if a little giddy when Stiles pulled back. “So for now, you’ll have to help show me the boundaries as we go, right?”

Derek nodded, expression soft, hair all mussed, eyes crinkling a little at the corners.

“So…there’s a hefty portion of cheesecake leftover in the fridge. Would the boundaries be good with it joining us on my bed upstairs for some sort of movie-snuggle-type situation?”

Derek’s smile was subtle and devastating all at once. “The boundaries would be good with that.” And he dipped his head a little with that shy little nod Stiles had only seen a few times before. And even if it wouldn’t always be as easy as this, if he could see Derek look at him like that, he thought they’d do just fine.

“What book were you on when you realised you loved me?” Stiles asked as they sat on his bed a little later, fighting with two forks over the best bits of the leftover Oreo marshmallow cheesecake while the opening of the movie sounded on his bedroom TV.

“Probably somewhere around Casino Royale and The Book Thief,” he answered, a teasing glint in his eye. “Although I started to question how much I really liked you when you gave me The Wolf Man.”

Stiles cackled delightedly and while he was distracted, Derek stole the last piece of cheesecake.

The End.