#in my defense my brain was literally not getting enough oxygen

[blackmageeljin]

On a scale from one to YOU HAVE TO DRIVE TO THE LOCAL STATE PARK TO USE A FREE PUBLIC SHOWER BC UR HOT WATER HEATER did not actually break, and is under warranty, but the ELECTRICAL LINE TO IT SHORTED AND WILL BE EXPENSIVE TO FIX, HOW POOR ARE YOU

So yeah how was y'all's weekend?

[sirfrogsworth]

So, ever since my dad started using an oxygen machine, my brain has grown accustomed to the mechanical white noise it emanated. We ended up putting the machine in the same room where I slept. And then I got so used to falling asleep with that white noise, I could not sleep without it. I literally get terrible insomnia if I don't have the machine running. I tried other noise. I tried a recording of it. I tried a box fan. But nothing worked nearly as well as the oxygen machine.

After my dad died, the rental company took the machine away.

So I bought a used one on eBay. I cannot get it any other way because you need a prescription for a new or refurbished one.

Unfortunately, these things have a limited lifespan. And the one I bought is starting to show signs of death. And because sleep is pretty much the most important thing I can do for my health, I decided to buy a backup unit.

This listing was from a well-reviewed seller. It said the unit powered on and it even had a video of the item functioning properly—but only for 30 seconds or so.

As you can see above, it says under the "condition" section that the item description would list imperfections.

When I got the item, I plugged it in, and after 3 minutes a loud beep sounded. And the beep continued for 20 minutes and never turned off. Every time you turn it on, after 3 minutes, this alarm sounds. The manual indicates a red light with a continuous beep means there is a serious system malfunction.

This seems like a malfunction that should have been disclosed.

And yes, it is possible that the issue was exacerbated by FedEx dropping the box. But it is not possible for that to be the direct cause of this issue. This item had to have already been in rough shape for something like that to cause a malfunction.

And it is also possible the seller was not aware of the issue. Perhaps he never turned the unit on long enough for this alarm to sound. But that doesn't mean he is excused from selling a damaged item without being responsible for it. The item cannot arrive in a different condition than shown in the eBay listing.

(But also... he knew. I'm like 90% sure he knew. And I think the following will give you that impression as well.)

I wrote to the seller...

Apparently after 3 days I can appeal to eBay. So hopefully I can get this resolved one way or another. But this seller hanging onto this technicality is so frustrating.

If it were me, I'd want to make it right. I mean, if I accidentally sold a broken item I would feel awful and do everything I could to take care of the person I sold it too. And it just sucks that not everyone is that honorable.

But the fact that he worded it like this and is using this defense so adamantly really makes me feel like he knew this was an issue. But I don't think any reasonable person is going to be satisfied with this defense. He's like those debate bros that think if you catch someone in a debate fallacy they automatically lose the argument.

eBay's rules say you can't deliver a damaged item without fully disclosing the damage. It just sucks he's going to make me do this the hard way.

[possthrowaway4q]

I've learned/realized a lot about my health issues recently, and I... really need some opinions. Particularly from people with traumatic brain injuries. So I'm gonna share my story.

Major Trigger Warning: birth complications, asphyxiation, seizures, child endangerment, medical neglect

(Sorry this isn't under a readmore I have literally never been able to use them on mobile without breaking the post)

I was lied to about my birth story. I was told by my mother that I came into the world a beautiful and perfectly healthy baby (and in her defense she very well could've convinced herself of this). This is, according to what my dad told me now that I'm an adult, completely false. My mother and I both almost died. The doctors didn't believe she was in labor yet. Called it Braxton Hicks for multiple days. Wasn't until one of them actually checked and saw my head that they believed her. Came out completely blue with the umbilical cord wrapped around my neck and was totally silent when they unwrapped me. Had to spend multiple days in the NICU in one of those oxygen tents. Don't know a lot of the details because apparently it wasn't discussed much. No idea if the doctors said anything about potential long-term issues and even if they did, there's no guarantee my parents kept an eye out properly. Didn't find out until a few years ago that I had hallucinations and frequent vivid nightmares as a young kid and the person mentioning it clearly didn't think much of it, despite me vaguely remembering seeing two separate child therapists around that age. Like, early elementary, I think.

That's not the only event though. Summer between 5th and 6th grade I had a drug-induced seizure. I was being watched by a family member who was kind of notorious for hoarding all sorts of medications. Including ones she was no longer prescribed. She didn't keep everything in their proper bottles either, moving pills between and re-labeling them. Including putting prescriptions in OTC containers. I asked for something for a headache. She gave me a pill saying it was Tylenol - didn't even see the bottle it came out of - and left me be again. Wasn't long before I knew something was wrong. Thankfully, I had my phone in my hand and was able to text her before I lost complete control of my muscles. Dunno how long exactly the seizure lasted, but it must've been at least ten minutes because that's how far away my parents lived and they were there with me when it ended. Remember my dad picking me up and holding me until I could talk and move again. We never did go to the hospital. Idk if it's because we all assumed I was fine once it was over or if it was because no one wanted to get the family member in trouble. Would explain why she called my parents instead of an ambulance, I suppose.

Been thinking about that tonight. Realized I was never really the same after that. I went from all As in school to completely unable to keep up with most subjects. I couldn't think or focus, I was in a fog most of the time, was losing large gaps of time and couldn't remember both short and long term things, and shortly after that was the beginning of my three year long psychotic break. Everyone remembers how the start of middle school is when all my mental health symptoms went into overdrive and I was just. Notably worse. And to top it all off, I always have said that my memory of my past seems to only go back to a few substantial memories in 5th grade and everything prior basically doesn't exist most of the time.

So I guess my question is just... could I have brain damage? Birth asphyxia is bad enough, but a 10+ minute long seizure as a child? I'm pretty sure that's way past the threshold of a medical emergency/when permanent brain damage can start. But every time I mention the idea to anyone, it gets brushed off. Either because I "don't need another thing wrong with me" or "does it really matter?" or because neither thing are your typical ideas of a TBI.

Sure, I've got a bunch of other reasons I could have these symptoms. Even just on the mental health side, ADHD, autism, psychosis, dissociative disorder stuff, and it's been too long for any doctor to say definitively one way or the other if they even take me seriously. But... I don't know, could those have contributed? Hell, could that be the root source of some of it that no one connected to because we never talked about it after the fact? (I even completely forgot for a long time. Didn't think it was a big deal. Didn't really understand seizures at the time.) I can't emphasize enough how drastically my health changed after that seizure. But maybe it was just puberty or the increase in difficulty/stress from going from elementary to middle school.

Surely it's possible though that those things at least exacerbated underlying issues or something? I guess the root of my question is whether the traumatic brain injury community would have me. I don't think I'll ever be able to fully, publicly identify that way, but I still desperately want to know if I'd be welcomed if I tried. Could I really have brain damage or am I just being dramatic or a hypochondriac or something? I just wanna know why I'm so fucked up in the head.

[anotheranimestan]

Heyooo I legit just found u bc of the bakugo series, and then I went on a spree reading your account- ugh I’m in love!!! Do you think you could tag me when part 3 comes out?

Ahhh! Thank you so much! ❤️ You guys have no idea how much a few words of encouragement means to writers 😭.

No need to tag tho because here it is!!!!! 😃

Sorry it took so long. I wanted to write it as best as I could! I don’t want disappoint anyone who’s been enjoying so far. ☺️

~~

All Bark No Bite (pt. 3)

(Final part)

Bakugo angst + ~sexual tensionnn~

Please, children avert your eyes. Things get a LITTLE inappropriate here 😳

Read part 1 and part 2

wc: 2.4k

He’s an asshole...but he’s a HOT asshole 🤤

You’d never seen his room before. It was much different than you’d imagined. You’d expected burn marks all over the walls or blown up debris of things scattered about. Maybe a bunch of mirrors so he could look at his self-confident, conceited ass all night. But actually it was kinda of nice. Pretty neat. He had some posters hung up and some books laying around. Black sheets and blankets. And it smelled oddly sweet in here, sort of pleasant believe it or not.

You’re so used to him yelling and exploding so it was weird seeing him so relaxed, in his natural habitat. Doing normal things. Like eating a snack, tapping his pencil in concentration, fidgeting with his hair. He even spun around in his rolling chair a few times mindlessly. He was acting sort of...cute? It was unnerving being attracted to him like this.

But as soon as he noticed you watching him it was all over. You were making him self conscious. He didn’t even realize he’d let his guard down like that.

“That makes absolutely no sense, dumbass.” His voice was bored and over it.

“What are you talking about!? I’ve explained it three times!” You retorted indignantly.

“Exactly. I thought you were smarter than this...” He jabbed before turning around and flipping his notebook shut.

You’d spent twenty minutes attempting to teach him what he’d missed in class earlier today but he was insufferable. Easily the worst student on the planet. Every time you explained something he’d tell you how to teach it better. Who does that!?

“Whatever moron. I didn’t come up here to try and teach your pea brain. I—“ The words were harder to say than you’d expected. Painful actually. They really didn’t want to come out. “I just wanted to say sorry for getting you—“

He whipped a pencil and it hit you directly in the forehead.

“Ouch, what the fuck?” You hissed, rubbing the sore spot. How’d he get so much damn power behind that thing?

“Don’t apologize. It’s weird.”

“What!?” You threw the pencil back but only managed to hit his shoulder.

“Anyways...” He ignored you, completely unfazed by your assault.

“You’re easily the most—“

“Anyways...” You swore if he cut you off one more time you were going to smack the shit out of him. “Aizawa thinks you’ve lost your mind.”

The unexpected information took you aback.

“He saw you try and get yourself blown up in class yesterday... No sane person is stupid enough to pull a move like you did.”

Ah yes... he meant the time you wrapped the man’s hand around your neck, tauntingly, in front of like 20 classmates and two teachers. You’d been trying to avoid asking yourself the question of why you did that. You claimed it was the best way to shut him up....but there were other ways to do that. More reasonable ones. You wouldn’t admit you’d daydreamed of doing it before and subconsciously took the opportunity. Red embarrassment flashed through your body again. God knows what they were all thinking when they witnessed that. You desperately wished people would stop reminding you.

Suddenly the need to defend yourself bubbled up. “I—I only did that because I knew you wouldn’t do anything.”

He scoffed. But didn’t deny it. “If you’re going to try something stupid. At least do it right.” He chastised.

Your body froze as he stood up and walked over, crouching down directly in front of you.

“If I wanted to choke you. I’d do it like this.”

He wrapped his hand around your neck. Demonstrating the best way to actually cut off someone’s air flow. But he did it so gently you barely even heard his explanation. You were just flashing back to last night. Instantly your entire body lit on fire. Replaying this scene in your head was strong enough. But reenacting had you completely out of sorts. Kissing him again but this time going full out. You wanted to bite him, just to hear him make that deep moan into your mouth again. Just imagining it was making you flutter. Aching to have him pressed up against you like that, relieving some of this pressure that was building up in your body. You felt yourself unraveling. About to pounce.

But he interjected with something that stunned you once again. “The way you did it would be better for...other forms of choking.”

Dear god. Surely he knew what he was doing to you. If he kept this up any longer your heart or your lungs were definitely going to give out.

But you mustered up your last two brain cells that weren’t absolutely losing their shit over him and carried on with your normal banter.

“Yea yea, I get it. You can stop now.”

He didn’t budge. His hand still snug around your throat. You obviously didn’t mind it there but it was incapacitating your brain function.

You gently pushed it away and he didn’t resist. But where he put it next was no better.

He traced the side of your cheek and along the outline of your lips. Just staring at them, eyes lost like he was thinking deeply about something. He wasn’t giving you a moment of a break. No room to breathe.

Your nerves were through the roof, your heart was beating so loud you could hear it in your ears. Desperately you tried to change the topic. “So is this your attempt at being nice? Advice on how to murder someone?” It’s amazing how your mouth just spewed shit out even though your brain was actually dead.

“Sure.” Now he was tugging at your bottom lip. Completely unbothered by you baiting him.

“Ah. A nice Bakugo? I must be having a dream. I guess now that you’ve lost to me your whole tough guy persona has been killed.”

That snapped him out of it. But now he was looking just as intensely, directly into your eyes.

“Don’t push it.”

“Or what?” Faking composure was coming so easily much to your relief.

“Do you want to find out?” He growled.

“You’re not scary.” You said rolling your eyes as hard as possible.

Something snapped in him. He couldn’t hold himself back anymore. Within a moment he had you on your back. Your body didn’t even have time to process. Even if it did, would you have stopped him? He trapped both your wrists on either side of your head and your feet under his ankles. His arms looked glorious as he held up is body weight.

“How about now?” His voice was deep and savory.

There he went. Invading your mind again. His scent. That lust-filled look in his eyes. The way he was thoroughly enjoying being on top of you. The adrenaline was coiling through your body. He had you right where he wanted you. He could do anything he wanted to you. But that “annoying little mouth of yours” wasn’t done quite yet.

“Whatever. You always do this. But you won’t actually try anything.”

“You think I wouldn’t hurt you at all? I literally want to kill you sometimes.” He had a smug little grin on his face. But his eyes couldn’t pull themselves from your lips. After experiencing them once he could barely stop thinking about them.

“You’re telling me? I fucking hate you.” You lied.

It made his smirk form into that wicked, shit-eating grin he always wore. The one that gets deep under your skin and makes you want to punch him in the throat and yank him onto you at the same time.

“Kissing someone is a weird way to tell them you hate them.” He was really cutting into you now.

You hissed. “Hey. You kissed me.”

“You kissed me back.” He raised an annoying little eyebrow.

Your brain wanted to choke him (the murder kind) but your body was screaming something completely different. The emotions swirling around in your chest was so overwhelming. Finally you burst.

You trapped one of his arms and corresponding leg and threw your weight to roll on top of him. One of your favorite moves from self-defense class that you knew would come in handy. Now you straddled him and using every ounce of your weight tried to pin his wrists down.

You expected him to fight you like the vicious little monster he is. But instead when you looked down he was just staring back at you. You were stunned at how good he looked at this angle. Did he have any bad angles?

“Finally. You made a move.” He said pretending to sound impressed. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Yea well...” You scoffed proudly. “you think you’re so fucking tough. Now looo—“

The words flew out of your mouth and you were tumbling again. This time he just grabbed your waist and tugged you with brute force. No technique needed. He easily overpowered you.

“Yea, that wasn’t going to work out. It was a cute try though, Little Bite.”

He laid directly on top of you now. Your legs spread as he rested his hips between them. His full weight pressed into you making it flutter. Your arms had somehow wrapped themselves around his neck and rested on his back.

The tension in the air made it difficult to breathe. But you were fully unconcerned with getting oxygen right now.

Nose to nose now he said “We’ll just count this as my rematch. Clearly I won.”

“You suck at flirting.”

Flirting? Where’d that come from?

“Seems like it’s working pretty good to me.”

That smug fucking face again.

“You’re such an ass.”

He bit his lip.

“Fuck...I love when you insult me like that.”

A beat passed and that was all it took. You smashed his lips onto yours. Wrapping your legs around him and squeezing. Too close wasn’t close enough.

He kissed you like he wanted you bad. Like you were his favorite meal and he was absolutely famished. It was so intense and passionate that neither of you could catch any air. Every insult, all the bickering, every jab had built up to this moment and was fueling it like gas to a forest fire.

His warmth was overtaking you. His body was so heavy, crushing you just liked you’d been daydreaming about all this time.

Your mind shut down all functions except desperately trying to use all five senses to their max capacity and commit every bit of him to memory.

He felt you pawing at the edge of his shirt and sat up. He peeled it off slowly. Letting your eyes adjust to every inch of him.

Your hands were instantly stroking every one of his muscles starting at his shoulders and trailing down his soft skin slowly...slowly to the edge of his jeans. Your index finger sat teasingly on the front button as you admired his perfectly toned body.

But before you even had time to think about what you wanted to do next he took your wrist and secured it down above your head again.

He dipped down and went straight for your neck.

Greeting it with a warm wet kiss from his tongue, his lips wrapped around your skin and sucked gently. You felt the blood pooled with pleasure rushing to the area. His other hand started exploring your body. Finally he was getting to put his hands on you the way he really wanted all along.

After you started tugging on his hair, desperately trying to avoid any scandalous hickeys he rolled you around again.

Letting you on top to straddle his hips. Giving you only a little bit of freedom though, as he locked one arm around your waist and the other started caressing your thighs slowly working his way north.

After squeezing your ass until his heart was content he clamped down both hands on your hips. You couldn’t bare it anymore. Your hips started gently grinding against him and you bit down on his neck all at once. You felt the angle of his pelvis rubbing into you creating little rumbles of pleasure.

“Fuck y/n..” he muttered under his breath.

You both were getting more and more bothered and aroused. His hands never stopped grabbing and tugging at you. His moans growing more fervent as he whispered into your ear.

He was just toying with the idea of peeling off your shirt when...

“THIS IS THE POLICE! COME OUT!”

Your soul practically rose out of your body as a loud bang almost broke the door down. Bakugo’s hand slapped over your mouth. You’d screamed without realizing it.

Kaminari’s laugh sounded through the door. “Oh my god Bakugo! You scream like a girl!”

Mina shrieked. “No, stupid! Y/n are you in there!?”

Your life was ending.

“Get the fuck out of here before I come out there and break your skulls!” Bakugo barked at them.

They didn’t say anything but you heard their quick footsteps as they ran down the hall still shrieking like banshees.

“Oh god..” you groaned as you tried to roll away from him, using his bare chest to push off.

But he wouldn’t let you go. “Where are you going?”

“Aren’t you going to go hunt them down and threaten them or something.” Typical Bakugo behavior.

“No, I’m busy.”

You had to stop your mouth from falling open.

“They’re probably going to tell everyone.” You prodded. Expecting his temper any second now. Like he was a bomb about to go off. You pulled away again in preparation, sitting fully upright now.

“I’ll deal with them tomorrow. I’m dealing with you tonight. Now get back over here before I get mad.”

You shrieked as he muscled you back into his arms. He bent you back around him as snugly as he could. Moving your chin to the side, he kissed your neck, sweeter this time. Instinctively your hands ran through his hair. Fuck the rest of them. You could get lost in this hot head all night. And you were as he started gently sucking on your soft spots again.

But he pulled away abruptly. Like he’d just realized something. “How are you gonna become a pro hero if a moron like Denki can scare you like that?”

You smacked the back of your idiot’s head lightly. “Don’t fucking ruin it.” You groaned.

“Fine.” He grinned as he went in for the kiss that started the rest your next piping hot and sticky couple of hours together.

~💥💥

TADAAA! What did you guys think?? What was your favorite part overall?

I’d love hearing your thoughts and opinions 😃 makes me a better writer

Also special shout-out to @jennammaee ! Pt. 2 of this series has been my most successful post yet, so thanks for encouraging me to write it!!

Tags: @sweetsailor000 @yumxmii @fullsundear @frosted-flakes @marloalmore @aprilbouz01 @deneuves @softestparker @davidbowiehotashell-blog @mocha-focha @piii-chan @v0dkadaddy @xxjosiexx

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Inspired partially by the twitter trend of The Face Vs. The Face Sitting On It and just in time for Valentine’s Day! 

Gender Neutral Reader Insert. 

Enjoy my masterlist!

Support me on KoFi!

__________________________

While sitting in the car, you watch out the window. Folks buzz around you--some folks looking content, strolling about their day. Others are flitting around, a bit of crease in their forehead. And you feel for them. You know those days where there’s just not enough hours in the day to get it all done. Or it’s when one thing sets off a spiral of all terrible things. Or when you just don’t wake up on the right side of the bed. You know that crease all too well because currently you were having a bad sleeping week. 

You were getting tired when you were supposed to but the second you put your head on the pillow your brain was hot wired--keeping you up with all the things you needed to do, hadn’t done, all the appointments you had kept pushing off. It was finding the littlest things to find that anxiety and keep you staring up at the ceiling. Calum noticed the tossing and turning and tried his best to lull you to sleep this week, fixing you tea in the evening, getting you off your phone or laptop a couple hours before bed. He even started reading to you, but your ears picked up on the white noise of everything in the house. Your brain picked up the embarrassing memory that you hadn’t even considered in decades and now holding it in front of your mind’s eye for hours on end during the week. 

Like right now, you should’ve been at home sleeping. Your work was giving you a long weekend and you really could’ve used the time to catch some extra Z’s, but you were, admittedly, a little scared to stay home. Sure maybe you did fall asleep cuddled up next to Duke. But you worried that you’d stay up, worry yourself sick some more so when Calum told you he had some errands to run you immediately tagged along. The time running around would hopefully tire you out enough that when you got home you could actually fall asleep. 

So after Calum’s personal training session in the morning, which you sort of tagged along for, but mostly went through your own routine and getting a solid breakfast, you two were now buzzing around from store to store. Calum had gotten most of the grocery the other day, but he forgot a couple things so your first objective was to grab those and bring them back up. He then had to go to the post office to mail out his mother’s birthday cards and a few other things. 

While in the line at the post office, your head tucked into his back, Calum got a phone call from a guitar shop on the other side of time about a new model that had just come in. Calum had been eying it for ages, but he didn’t want to be reckless with his money especially after getting some work on his teeth and to the house. So he asked the guitar shop to keep an eye out for when more stock arrived in case it sold out before Calum felt comfortable spending a large sum of money like that again. 

The store agreed to set one off to the side for him and could keep it on hold until the end of the day. Which was perfect--still gave the two of you time to get lunch. You didn’t need to get anything, didn’t need to do anything. But even after lunch, Calum made one more pit stop. Here now at the gas station, you sit peering through the windshield and can see a mother with her two sons walking from the doors. They boys hold brightly colored icees in their hand, each clutching a bag field with goodies. 

You aren’t entirely sure whey Calum needed to stop here for anything. It’s not like he needed stamps, since he got those at the post office. He hadn’t pulled in to get gas. Lunch had been filling, though you tried not to stuff yourself too much just because you knew that on a long car ride, the last thing you wanted to do was be uncomfortably full. 

The door opens again, Calum strutting through with his glasses covering his eyes and resting comfortably atop the chubby cheeks. Barely hanging from the crook of his fingers is a brown plastic bag. The doors click open and he climbs into the driver seat. The guitar shop wasn’t that far, but today seemed to be a busy day on the road. Took you all too long just to get to the grocery store this morning. 

“Snacks?”

“Was craving something sweet after lunch.” 

You peer into the bag as he hands it over to you. Some gummy bears, gum, a bar or two of chocolate you can’t quite tell. You set it onto the floor at your feet. “Let me know when you want something.” But he’s already tearing into a Twix bar when you glance at him. “Or not,” you laugh. 

“The other stuff is for you--if you want to indulge. Can’t forget ya,” he pushes the glasses down for just a moment to wink at you and then looks into the rearview mirror. 

“Do you think you’re going to get this one?” you asks as the SUV rolls out from the parking lot and onto the asphalt of the highway. 

“Hmm, maybe. Gotta see how it feels first.”

You nod at his question, resting your head into the cushion of the seat. And it goes quiet for a while. The radio plays softly in the background, and every so often the packaging crinkles as Calum downs more of the chocolate and caramel treat. 

“Valentine’s Day is coming up soon,” Calum states, while paused in a bit of traffic. “Got any ideas on what you want to do for it?”

You think for a moment. Valentine’s Day has never been your thing--being perpetually single does that to a person. “Restaurants are going to be a nightmare.”

“Yeah, they will be.” Another crinkle comes from the right side of the car and then his arm reaches behind your seat, finding the small bag of trash you stash there--though you have to be careful when Duke sits in the backseat. Generally though, he doesn’t mess with too much. “My mom sent me a recipe of hers. It’s really good.”

“I’d be down for cooking.”

“Nothing else? Don’t wanna go sky diving? Give me another heart attack?”

You laugh thinking about the first birthday you spent with Calum together as a couple. “You didn’t die.”

“But I did almost shit myself.”

“You can play on stage to thousands of people, but no, jumping from a plane is a no-go.”

“Yes, because I am a sane human.”

You huff out a small tuft of laughter and turn to look at him. One hand on the wheel with the stainless steel linked chain dangling from his wrist. His other arm is resting against the door, gently tapping out a beat with his long slender fingers. “Do you want to do anything?”

“Valentine’s Day,” he scoffs. “How long have we been dating? When have I ever been dying to do anything on some random day in February.” His statement doesn’t fall venomously from his mouth. He even looks over to you with a smile. “I don’t need one day out of 365 to declare my love for someone.”

And it’s true. While Calum wasn’t super accepting of love from new people, while it took you months to show Calum that you were trustworthy and not someone to keep at an arm’s length, once he cracked open, he oozed adoration and love for people. And you knew it was a defense mechanism. You knew that when someone did care as hard as Calum did it wouldn’t always be an easy thing to win over. 

Calum, when he finally let someone one, loved hard. It could be a random Tuesday in July or a Sunday in February, and he would make sure his love was known. He never needed a special occasion to send flowers, to cook dinner, to offer to drive you to doctors appointments because he knew that sometimes you got too nervous or flustered by them to drive but did manage to push through if absolutely necessary. He’d easily pick up some gloves and an extra sponge if he saw you wiping down the walls in the kitchen or wiping through the counter. He kept fridge cleaning days marked on the calendar. And when you added reminders to wash bed sheets to the shared one, he also include rest breaks for you too. 

Calum had never needed someone to force him to show appreciation. 

“I mean, there is the option to literally do nothing on Valentine’s Day. Like treat it as any other day.”

“That’s still something,” he countered, turning on his signal and switching out from the middle lane. His exit was approaching in another mile and a half. 

“Oh fuck off,” you laugh. “We can’t cease to exist that day. Bare minimum we need to convert oxygen into carbon dioxide.”

Calum laughs softly, showing some of his teeth too. “Fair, fair. There’s another Netflix documentary coming out, true crime one. I forget what it’s fully about, but I think it’s about a serial killer if you’d be down to start it then?”

“When would I ever turn down the opportunity to be a detective with you?”

“You haven’t yet,” he states with laughter in his voice. 

“And I never will.” The ramp takes the two of you down and down and soon you’re winding through streets and not too far you can see the shopping center coming into view. He pulls into the lot of the shop and the two of you step out in unison. 

The bell above the door chimes as he opens it for you and you smile often in your thanks. “Hey, Calum!” one of the guys at the register calls out. The store is fairly empty. But you’re not shocked on a Tuesday afternoon. 

“Hey, Derek. How’s it going?” Calum heads directly over to the counter and you look up to the left wall, at the records on display.

“Let me know if you need anything,” the second guy states to you, “or if you want to see anything.” He’s younger than Derek, both look to be equally tattooed from the pieces that peek out from the short sleeve work shirts, but his face is significantly brighter. 

“Thanks,” you return and go back to the displays. You can hear Calum and Derek chatting but slowly tune it out, make it background noise to the music playing through the speakers. 

You turn to walk towards the back where more instruments sit and you can see Calum leaning into the glass display of the counter. The palms of his hand pressed into the metal edge. The sunglasses sit on top of his head and you notice the younger guy glancing over at you again.

He nods again and then goes back to his computer. Nothing else is said. And you look over the stringed instruments, ukuleles, some violins and then you spin around again, done with that lap and go to head up to Calum. “See anything?” he asks. 

You shake your head. “You’re the musically talented one. I just nod and smile when you talk about it.”

Derek returns, a case in hand. He comes out from the hinged doors that separate the sales floor from the registers and back of the store. You scoot a little closer to the display as the case is transferred over. Calum takes it easily heading to the corner you just abandoned to sit and check out the instrument. It’s a beautiful deep green, almost reminds you of the thick Washington forest. The body is slender. 

“That’s a pretty cool color,” you note, watching Calum work his fingers over the frets. 

He grins up at you. “Think so?” You give another nod. He doesn’t inspect it long before you can see the desire to give in crosses his face. 

Derek’s standing close by and you turn to him and keep your voice as close to a whisper as you can while still being heard. “What’s a bass like that cost?”

He rattles off the price, one eyebrow slightly raised over the other. You know Calum will riot--he’ll pitch a fucking fit. But you reach into your wallet and slide out your card. You had been saving--for a year. You wanted to do something big for Calum. You just didn’t know what it was yet specifically though you had some ideas, a bass was top of the list.  But you didn’t want to try and go out and buy a bass without consulting him, without getting an understanding of what he liked. You thought about maybe a really good leather jacket and some more boots. He loved the ones he had, wore them as much as he could. 

And when you mentioned possibly getting him more, he told you the ones he had were still in good shape. Calum wasn’t the type to just buy clothes to buy them. He indulged here and there, but always made a point to wear something he had down before replacing it. You’d tease the subject a couple more times after that, but he never took the bait and you weren’t going to force him into a thing he didn’t want or need. 

But it’s clear to you that this is something he wants. But he’ll tussle with himself and never give in on it. It’s pricer than you thought it would be. But you too were being smart, having finally paid off the last of your car, you start moving those payments to savings and it helped a great deal. You were fine. You get insurance and the whole deal as Derek advises. By the time you slide the receipt back across the counter, Calum comes back to the registers. “I appreciate you holding it for me, man. But I don’t think I can right now.”

Derek looks at you and you look down into the glass. “It’s--it’s yours, dude.”

“What?” Calum breathes behind you. 

“They-uh, they paid for it,” Derek says, nodding at you.

You can feel the heat in your body now and spin around to face Calum in a rush. “Consider it a not Valentine’s Day gift.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Ever since I finished paying off my car, I saved the payments to do something nice for you. Didn’t know what it was going to be for sure. But I know you, Calum. You’d want something and tell yourself no. I mean you can treat yourself sometimes.”

“You-you didn’t?” His eyes are rapidly blinking, head shaking like he doesn’t want to believe you. Like he can’t believe you as his mouth mumbles out, “No,” repeatedly. 

“It’s yours,” you nod. “It’s really yours.”

If it weren’t for the weight of the bass, you’re sure Calum would’ve tipped over, maybe even rushed to Derek to hand the case back over, but instead he’s weighed down, chained to this spot in the blue speckled carpet of the store, still repeating, “No,” softly. 

“‘I hate to break it to you, but you’re gonna have to find space in your office for it now. Because I refuse to return it.” You step forward, find the handle and slip your hands around it taking it from Calum. A small grunt leaves you and then you start to the door, throwing a thanks to Derek. 

The lights to the SUV blink and you can hear the locks clicking open as you push open the door to the store. “Wait--what are you doing?” Calum asks. 

“Open the trunk please,” you ask. 

“Let me do it,” he demands, stepping in close to take the case with the bass now. “What the fuck did you do? Baby, this is expensive.”

“It’s not a Valentine’s Day gift,” you answer again. “Because I love you. On a random Tuesday.”

He gets the instrument safely into the trunk and then closes it, watching dumbly as you climb into the passenger side. He walks to the driver seat and climbs in, taking you gently by the chin. “That was absolutely reckless and unnecessary-- ”

“I am just absolutely reckless and unnecessary then,” you counter, “because I’m not returning it.”

“--but thank you. Thank you so much,” he continues as if you hadn’t interrupted him. “I love you.”

“I love you.” Then it’s silent, as the two of your gaze at each other, watching what could almost be tears well in his eyes, but they don’t fall. 

“I don’t know what I did to deserve a person like you, but whatever it was, I’m glad I did it.”

“I’m glad you did it too.” The two of you return home, Duke rushing to the front door as the two of you step through it. Calum safely places the bass in his music room/office and returns shortly after to help you decide on what to order for dinner. 

As the two of you settle onto the couch, Calum takes your hand and presses a kiss to teach knuckle. “I’m gonna teach you how to play.”

“You know we’ve done this before.”

“And you were good at it.”

“I was alright at it.”

“It’ll be your bass,” he whispers. 

“I bought it for you,” you return tossing your head back to look at him. 

He kisses your lips. “Yeah, but it’ll be the one that I teach you to play for real one and it’ll be yours--just as much as it is mine.”

“A true sap,” you laugh, but nod and return your focus back to the TV. 

In the week that follows, Calum makes sure to take an hour in the evenings to set you down and pick up on the lessons. They fizzled out as work for the both of you picked up. But now things are a bit more calm. He sits next to you, assessing what you remember from last time and correcting finger placements as needed, but they go smoothly. 

When Valentine’s Day does come, Calum pulls you back into bed for just five more minutes of sleep. And five minutes turns into half an hour. But finally you two pull yourself out from the sheets, figure out what to do in the midmorning that results in food being consumed and then you slowly gravitate towards different sections of the house. 

There’s still a bit of laundry to be done and Calum takes Duke out for just a little bit. The two of you migrate back together by mid afternoon. He finds you making a quick lunch and presses a kiss to your cheek. You turn to face him, squeezing at his. “I bought some face masks,” he offers. “Care to join me in doing the bare minimum of converting oxygen into carbon dioxide after your lunch?”

“Don’t see how I could pass up such a wonderful offer? You want anything?” He shakes head, mentioning grubbing on some of the leftovers earlier while you took a nap. 

With your lunch done and the plates cleaned, you find Calum in the bedroom and let him know you’re ready for the face masks. He shuffles to the bathroom. “I hope I got the right one for you,” he mutters. “I got them forever ago it feels, so who the hell knows what I got.” His laughter is soft as he rummages through the bins under the skin. 

“I’ll be in the office,” you tell him and he nods, still pulling bins out. You settle into the couch and spy the green bass still on the stand from yesterday. You pull it into your lap and sling your arm over it. The amp next to you is off, you know but you still pluck away at it as if it were on. 

Calum shuffles in a few minutes later. “Um, babe. It’s off.”

You don’t reply but do look up. He holds up three different packages. “Here’s to hoping one of these is worthwhile.” You place your bass back to the stand and take one that sounds like one you’re okay with using. Calum hands you a towel so you can wipe your fingers off after you get it placed onto your face. He helps get it right and then you help him with his and the two of you slip onto the couch, legs entangled and leaning into opposite ends of the couch.

You laugh at Calum’s story as you scroll mindless through app after app. In the boredom you snap a picture of Calum with the face masks on and don’t think too much of it, saving it to the album with all the silly and cute photos of him are--there are tons. 

“I mean the sun is a star. Though the ones we see have been dead for a long time.”

Calum taps your leg with his foot. “It was a simple question--to be the sun or the stars. I didn’t ask for this philosophical crisis.”

“Why would it not weigh in your decision! If you’re a star like the ones we see at night, you’re technically already dead. You wanna be dead?” You huff, sitting up. 

“I mean, no, but c’mon.”

“It’s a valid thing to consider, that’s all I’m saying!”

He laughs. “Okay, sun or the moon?”

“You first,” you return and just then your alarm on your phone goes off. The two of you shuffle back to the bathroom and take off the masks. 

“Moon, maybe,” he counters. 

You nod. “Fitting. When should we get started on that recipe of your moms? Is it super involved?”

“Nah, it’s pretty easy. Normal time should be good. I’m going to read outside if you want to join.”

“Maybe in a bit.”

Calum nods, grabbing his book as he passes through the bedroom and the patter of Duke’s claws follow behind him. You go back to the music room, turn on the amp and then actually play a little something. It’s nothing fancy--just the arrangement you put together with Calum as a practice exercise once. You play it for a bit, adding a little flair. When you phone rings, you pause to answer it. You wouldn’t normally, but the number looks semi recognizable so you answer it. 

It’s just a scam call and you hang up but then notice some other notifications. Before you realize it, you’re deep into Twitter. You’ve run across the trend of people posting pictures of themselves and their significant others with the caption, The Face Vs The Face Sitting On It. It made you laugh just a little bit at first. And then you kept going down the rabbit hole. Some are silly, most are good pictures. 

While it’s not exactly secret that you and Calum are dating, you two don’t post too much. Calum isn’t incline to post on social media in the first place and while you use it a bit more than him, you try not to post too much about him out of respect. However, as you look tap on quote retweet and bring up your photos you think maybe one silly post wouldn’t hurt. So you grab the one of him recently with the face masks and then one of yourself--it’s silly too, a little blurry too in the darkness that it was taken in. 

You hit post and watch the likes come in. Then keep scrolling. Eventually you have to put the bass away and peel yourself from the couch to find Calum and see if he’s hungry enough for dinner. Just as you round the corner to the office, you spy him stepping through the glass sliding backdoor. “Hungry?” you ask. 

He nods, “Yeah.”

The two of you, with Duke trotting ahead, make your way down the hallway and into the kitchen. “You’re funny,” he states, washing his hands first. 

“Thank you. I’ll be here until you kick me out.”

He laughs. “No, the pictures you posted. On Twitter.”

You’re shocked that he noticed it that fast. Normally it took him a bit longer to see silly stuff like that. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Nah. What I hope you don’t mind is my reply.”

At first you’re nervous. Calum could’ve gone one of two ways--super silly and broke out even worse photos of you possibly not sober or he went super on trend with it and pulled out a photo of you done up for a date night. Not that you preferred one over the other, but sometimes you liked to keep your relationship light on social media. It was easier that way. There wasn’t any real pressure that way. Though the fans seemed to have enjoyed it when you posted more posed and serious content. 

You liked to keep it a bit more real. You and Calum didn’t do the whole nine yards a lot--you two were normal people who hated getting out of bed some days and went as well into the afternoon before showering at times and walked Duke and went to doctor’s appointments like everyone does. So you always opted for a bit of a joke, a silly Tweet or photo whenever you could. 

“What did you post?” you ask. 

He shrugs, taking up the knife to dice the onion. “I’m not telling you.”

You glance at the printed out recipe and get a pan on the aisle over medium heat before pulling out your phone. As you load the app, you listen to the snap of the knife fitting the wooden cutting board. You type Calum’s name and tap onto his profile. 

While there’s is silly--I do want to take a moment to show off my favorite person in the world. So here we go, The Face Vs. The Face Sitting On It. Below is attached a picture of him--you snapped while you two were out for lunch one day. The black t-shirt tight around his biceps as he slyly grins into the camera. The lights in the background are just barely in focus of the resturant and Calum’s glancing out of the window next to him. You remember that you were recording him, or at least you thought you were, and told him that he was handsome. Not the first time, but everytime he did, he blushed and turn away. And you captured it here too. 

The photo of you is actually one with him in it. The guys got together and did a big family dinner and the two of you posed at Crystal’s request in the slightly matching outfits. You hadn’t intended to match--though black was a staple in both your wardrobes. You were a bit different thanks to the pop of color in your shoes, but in the lighting of the street lamp, you had to admit that you did look hot. The first couple of  buttons on your shirt you were undone and with your hands tucked into the pockets, you looked like you owned shit. 

“While I hoped that you’d go with something more silly, I will take this,” you finally say. 

“That picture is literally my background for a reason,” he returns. 

You kiss his cheek and then trace over the stubble with your teeth to his ear. “Can I make a reservation for tonight?”

“The table is reserved for you literally at all times,” he returns in a breathe. 

“Good,” you laugh and then glance back to the recipe. 

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Trapped” Part 5

Almost one year ago, someone tried to kill The Joker in a speeding car and Y/N pushed him out of the way, getting hit instead. With a fractured skull and broken bones, she was out of business for 6 months; when she finally recovered, The Queen of Gotham wasn’t the same anymore. Trapped inside her own mind and exhibiting severe cognitive impairment, Y/N’s life switched upside down without any hope of ever returning to normal.

Part 1    Part 2    Part 3    Part 4

4 Months Pregnant

“I need customized stickers that say Baby On Board for my purple Lamborghini and the other cars I drive,” The Joker growls at his own idea whilst sharing it with the person fulfilling his wacko trades: Franco Rossi, the leader of best underground supply chain in Gotham.

“When would you like them ready Mister J? After Y/N gives birth?”

“Nope! Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?...” Franco hesitantly inquiries about the sudden emergency since he can’t understand why The King of Gotham demands them so fast.

The Joker hates explaining yet certain people are obtuse thus they necessitate enlightenment.

“Y/N’s pregnant: when she gets in a car, the baby is also. Baby on board! Hello??” the father-to-be loses his temper.

Who can argue with The Joker’s logic? Nobody. It sort of makes sense anyway.

“Of course, Mister J. I’ll have them ready. If you drop by after 6pm, I’ll have your guns ready too.”

“Perfect!” the Joker hangs up among the ruckus coming from the office near the kitchen: sounds of shattered objects and yelling alert Richard aka Panda you’re at it again. He nonchalantly passes by in order to deliver the items to The Clown.  

“Your drinks Mister J,” he gives one cup with Starbucks caramel latte to his boss and the other is placed on the table. Why does your boyfriend require 2 identical containers? It won’t take long to solve the mystery.

“Are the lids glued?”

Strange question but there’s a purpose in it.

“Yes sir. How is she doing?”

“She’s hormonal: breaking things makes her feel better which reminds me we have to hoard porcelain objects for her to wreck. NO glass!”

“Sure, I’ll tell the crew,” Richard leaves the kitchen while texting Frost. “Hulk needs more to smash,” he types the code name they gave you in the last weeks although The King knows about it: J’s the one that came up with it.

“Hey Pumpkin,” you are greeted as soon as you pop up from the office. “How’d it go?” he scrolls down on his phone and takes a sip of hot liquid.

“Ugghh!” a frustrated Y/N swings the yellow teddy bear The Joker stole for her on their first date, hitting his hand in the process. The drink flies near the fridge and splatters on the floor with minimal damage: only a tiny puddle instead of a disaster, that’s why the lids are glued.

Safety measure for The Queen’s unpredictability.

J grabs his reserve cup of coffee, paying attention now hence he dodges your renewed attack and keeps his coffee intact.

That’s why his drinks have the lids glued, in case you catch him off guard the second time it will result in negligible destruction.

It happened before.

“I don’t think so Princess,” The Joker strong grip on the container calms you a bit because you won’t be able to win this round. “Are you hungry?”

“No,” you pout and sit in his lap.

“I bet the baby is,” the secret weapon is unleashed: J discovered such a gem by accident and it works like a charm. How can Y/N say “no” if the baby is involved? She can’t.

A plate filled with a bunch of your favorite breakfast food is placed in front of you and strangely enough you’re instantly hungry.

“Extra bacon,” he purrs. “Plus chocolate dip and honey mustard for your pickled cherries. I added peanut butter olives as a bonus.”

In your defense, you’ve been having weird cravings lately.

You place the toy on the chair nearby and start eating, ogling a Joker texting back and forth with his business partners. He chews the morsel you just offered and shivers: waffle dipped in clam juice is disgusting. Maybe he should look at the food you shove in his mouth.

“Gross,” J washes the terrible taste with coffee and gets a kiss for encouragement, yet he’s aware of the connotations. Another kiss confirms it.

Let’s put it this way: besides the hormonal episodes and food demands, The Queen has had a fresh type of craving recently - The Joker kind.

More than usually.

That’s why he has to clear it up.

“I’m flattered for being the center of attention; we gotta keep in mind that contrary to the popular belief, I don’t have unlimited stamina, Pumpkin.”

You nod in agreement and unbutton his pants, then unzip them also.

“Y/N, pay attention!” J insists since you don’t give a damn about his woes. “Think about it as a two way street: The Joker Street and I Want To Break Things Street. Are you with me so far?” he double checks.

Why is he yapping so much??! I guess you should make an effort to comprehend: he’s even doodling patterns on his phone to emphasize the speech.

“When you get hormonal, Princess, let’s try and walk on the I Want To Break Things Street instead of The Joker Street, hm? The Joker Street is sometimes closed for repairs until further announcement.”

OK, OK, this is a lecture. Something about a Joker Street, he seems upset he doesn’t have one…?... Right?...

If you were him, you would be pissed Gotham didn’t name a street in your honor when you’re so important for the town.

Another peck on his neck, then your lips go down his collar bone.

“You’re not paying attention, are you?” J mutters when it’s clear his shirt won’t remain on his body for too long.

“I am,” you defend yourself.

“Oh yeah? What did I say then?”

“Ummm…” you try to piece together words among estrogen taking over. “No Joker Street?...”

“Bingo, that’s it Princess! No Joker Street, correct! Choose the other street, yes?”

This time he kisses you, excited his idea was well received when in fact, both parties are referring to unrelated concepts.

“Wait,” J dodges your touch, “Richard is calling.”

Because he’s on the phone ignoring Y/N, she is ensuring a nice surprise for later; concentrating to the maximum to avoid misspelling, the following message is sent to Franco Rossi from her cell:

“Make a landmark sign that says Joker Street.”

The King’s conversation is prolonged more than anticipated until he discerns you’re not wiggling: you feel asleep, softly snoring on his shoulder and he definitely can’t afford to wake you up.

The doctors said your body is trying to cope with the pregnancy the best way it can: if you doze off at random hours it means you ran out of fuel and you should rest. After cheating death and surviving the accident, the future mother is at high risk of serious complications which is why each day could lead to unforeseen problems.

The Joker rises from the chair holding you in his arms and after a few steps he realizes it’s difficult to walk: thanks to his unbuttoned and unzipped pants, they keep sliding lower and lower. There’s no way he will make it upstairs so maybe the sofa in the living room is the best option. He almost trips thus he begins to drag his feet on the carpet, the pants at knee level now.

“I’m reduced to a piece of meat,” J grumbles, finally making it to the couch and placing Y/N on it so she can have her power nap.

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

6:02pm

You accompanied The King to a meeting with Seraphim, the best hacker/strategist J uses: they’ve been plotting for a while concerning D.A. Kevin Winchester. The politician is becoming a huge pain in the butt for Gotham’s underworld and something must be done; either annihilation or blackmail, it truly doesn’t matter since he’s bad for business. Due to a total lack of interest in the subject, you are exploring the surroundings quite angry The Joker dragged you here.

Luckily there’s stuff to do.

Bam! you punch the fragile glass sculpture and it splinters into a million pieces on the lavish marble floor.

Seraphim jumps at the noise, immediately recognizing his beloved possession:

“That’s…,” he gulps, appalled. “That’s a Vitriol!”

Yup, the one and only Degas Vitriol, the latest sensation taking the art universe by storm.

“She’s hormonal,” J sneers. “She breaks shit!”

“That’s valued at 150,000 dollars!” the hacker breaths in much needed oxygen regarding the atrocity unfolding at his hideout.

“So??!!” your boyfriend sucks on his teeth, irritated. “Serves you right for buying that asshole’s artsy fartsy crap!”

The Joker actually has 4 Vitriol masterpieces at the mansion yet you were strictly forbidden to destroy them, alas he gave you the office for your rampages.

You continue your exploration as they talk about God knows what until you perceive an alarming detail: Seraphim is literally screaming having a gun pointed at J.

You sneak behind him then in a split second you strike the pistol out of his hand and your fist lands on his temple with such brutality it knocks him out unconscious.

“What the hell are you doing, Y/N???” The Clown hisses at your erratic behavior.

“Hm?”

“What are you doing??!!!” he repeats, annoyed.

“S-saving  you…,” you stutter, confused on why J is mad. “He was yelling and…mmm, had a gun,” you wince in pain because your knuckles hurt from the impact.

“The guy’s half deaf and sometimes he raises his voice without noticing, or did you forget??!! Now I have to wait until he comes to his senses and that’s a waste of my time, Y/N!!! Seraphim wasn’t threatening me, he was showing me his newest collectible!!! I suppose someone with half a brain can’t acknowledge the mess they’ve created!!!”

A lot of accusations thrown your way still… the last sentence brings tears in your eyes.

“I…” you bite your lower lip. “…I don’t have half of brain…”

“Wanna bet??” The Joker bites more instead of leveling with your logic: you though he was in danger and took action. If it was a real emergency, yes, you would have been the hero; it’s not and apparently he can’t appreciate your fast intervention in these circumstances.

“Y-you’re stupid…” you whisper, frustrated. “You don’t understand anything…”

Here it is -- the cataclysmic event of the century: someone called The Joker stupid. He’s beyond outraged with nothing better to utter besides a very childish:

“You’re stupid!”

Y/N turns around and stomps out of the house leaving a trail of destruction outside: she slaps the bottled water out of The Shark’s hand, kicks Panda’s shin and snatches Frost’s donut basically inhaling the sweet treat.

“I want to go h-home!!” you shout and enter the first vehicle you see, slamming the door so hard the window on the passenger side cracks.

“Jesus…” Jonny mumbles and being the sensible man that he is you are offered the whole box of pastries he purchased for his family. He can acquire more, but there’s no way in hell he wants to endure Y/N in the state she’s in.

Gotta keep Hulk calm somehow…

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

3 Hours Afterwards

You sulk when The Joker strolls in the master bathroom frantically searching the cabinets.

“Did you see my shaver?” he asks.

“Hm?”

“Did you see my shaver?”

“I…I wouldn’t know. I only have half a brain,” the surprisingly eloquent phrase queues J his woman is holding a grudge for his earlier statement. Why wouldn’t she? He was a complete jerk.

At least you didn’t catch on to the obvious: The King of Gotham doesn’t own a shaver; hair just grows on his head.  

He glimpses at Y/N soaking in the bathtub with a kid’s book in her left hand and the right hand fingers sunk into a bowl filled with ice placed at the edge of the Jacuzzi. The Joker leans over and switches your book since it’s upside down.

You huff at the unwanted help and stare at the pictures expecting he’ll look for his shaver and disappear.

You’re not that fortunate today.

“Imagine my surprise when I drove the main alley and detected a sign that says The Joker Street,” he brings up the topic.

Franco Rossi was super-efficient …sadly you ordered the item before J ran his mouth at the hacker’s place, otherwise you wouldn’t care he wants a street with his name.

“You said no… no Joker Street,” you stammer. “Now you have one,” the bitter tone makes him roll his eyes: Y/N’s brain got what it could from his monologue, he should have known better than to make it complicated.

“Excellent…” The King starts rubbing your tummy, “… precisely what I was aiming for. I’m washing the baby, not you!” he underlines when you move farther from him.

You scrunch your face displeased but let him do it because it’s for the baby.

“I know what you’re doing,” Y/N gives him a cold gaze. “U-using the baby… I’m not stupid!”

Busted, The Joker thinks. The schemer in him won’t accept defeat though.

“I didn’t say you were.”

“Yes you did!”

“You said it first!!!” he reckons, antagonized. “Therefore two stupid people put together gotta make up for a smart one!!’

“I… I don’t wanna make out…” you frown at his suggestion.

The Joker sighs, deciding not to correct the trajectory of your judgement; it sure sounds like an opportunity.

“Why not?”

“I’m tired and…and I h-hate you,” your heavy eyelids close.

“Both viable reasons, even if I have to admit you striking Seraphim like that got me quite worked up. He’s no small fry! I had to wait for one hour for him to recover; you got a mean punch, woman! The more I reflect on it, the hornier I get. Which reminds me, Pumpkin: guess what?... … … I’m hormonal too.”

No answer, Pumpkin’s out.

“Of course nobody gives a damn if I’m hormonal!” he complaints while grabbing you from the bathtub. You cling to him for a few moments prior to drifting back into your dreams.

“Thanks for getting me all wet,” J snarls at the cruel reality of having his favorite Prada suit ruined.

“You…you’re welcome…” his Queen replies in her sleep, somehow her mind clutching to reality amidst pure relaxation.

This is what two hormonal individuals are reduced to: one’s dozing off, the other is suffering in silence, although being the proud owner of the tiniest road in Gotham compensates for the mishap.

It’s a two way street.

 Also read: Masterlist

You can also follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho. 

[sheabuttahwrites]

[ I Know ]

. one : truth hurts...

abstract & introduction

**tw // Domestic Abuse

“You don't hear me talking to you?” he yelled menacingly, demanding an explanation.

My brain immediately scattered and I gasped for air as he shifted his hips, snatching himself out of me. “Baby... wh—what are you talking about?”

“Jade, you know what I'm talking about. You called me some other nigga’s name!”

I opened my mouth preparing to speak, yet, again, words were beyond me. Out of pure desperation, I closed my eyes, hoping that it was all just a terrible dream. But it wasn't. Sure enough, he was still right there in my face waiting for answers... that I did not have. I had called him Omari's name and I couldn't deny it.

But that doesn't mean I wasn't about to try. 

“Cam, I didn't. You're hearing things.”

Without an ounce of hesitation, he began to shake his head. “Don't lie to me.”

“I'm not lying.” 

He pushed himself up, hovering over me, and I watched his jaw tighten as he shut his eyes and took the deepest breath. He always did this whenever he was upset, but I don’t know why. It never actually helped calm him down. “What the fu—are you serious? I know what I heard. You think I’m stupid?” 

“No,” I promptly corrected, leaving no room for assumptions. “But I didn't say someone else’s name, Cam. Why would I do that?”

He completely ignored me and left the bed, starting toward his clothes piled down by the foot. “...Yo, get up. I got something for your ass.”

At the sound of those words, I froze, paralyzed with fear. I already knew what he had for me, and I did not want it. I closed my eyes once again and filled my lungs, trying to figure a way out of this mess. I had seconds to save myself. I was in need of a literal miracle, therefore I could only take it to God. I prayed so hard, but nothing useful came to me, causing reality to set in. I had one choice, tell the truth or continue with the lie. “Cam…”

“Lying and fucking cheating? You know I don't play that shit,” he ranted, failing to even notice that I had just called his name.

“I'm not cheating on you, I swear,” I tried my best to reassure him. “I would never lie to you, baby.”

He turned to me and his glare cut into me like knives. “Bitch, I said get up.”

Tears pooled in my eyes as I slowly sat up and placed my feet to the floor. There was no way I was gonna change his mind. I was kidding myself ever thinking that I could. 

He threw his t-shirt on and I reached down for my clothes as well, in hopes of curing at least a little bit of my vulnerability. “What you doing? I don't remember telling you to put shit back on.”

I swiftly opened my hand and let the shorts and cami fall back onto the carpet. “I'm sorry.”

“That means nothing,” he declared, walking over to me. All of those tears came crashing down; I was so scared. “You already know that shit don't faze me, Jay.”

“Cam, I love you! I'm not seeing anybody else! I don't even want anybody else! It's just you and me, baby. That's it,” I pled, but he ignored my defenses and raised his hand to me. Before I could even blink, it had landed on my tearstained face. I screamed as my neck violently twisted in the direction of his slap. 

“Keep fucking lying!”

His volume had increased to new heights, and so did mine. “I'm not!”

Once I'd come to my senses, it was too late. I stared up into his eyes, so regretful for raising my voice, and he was looking back at me like I had lost my damn mind. It wasn’t my intent to be shouting at him, making shit worse for myself, but it was truly the pain talking. My skin was on fire. Within seconds, the same hand he had just smacked me with flew up around my neck. I instantly took hold of his wrist with both hands, shocked out of my mind. He had never gone this far before. 

“Who the fuck you think you talking to? Huh?” He was standing right in my face. His tone was low, but still so intense. “Don’t you ever raise your voice at me. You hear me?” Terrified, I nodded to the best of my ability. “I can't fucking believe you! Everything I do for you, for us! I leave here for months at a time, working my ass off so your spoiled ass can have everything you want, and this is what I get in return?! You fucking around on me?” He looked so demented, watching me with narrowed eyes while I struggled to breathe and get him off of me. “You can't keep your fucking legs closed while I'm gone?” he questioned through clenched teeth, tightening his grip on my throat. My eyes doubled in size as tears continued to pour from them. I let him go and swatted at his hand crazily, my body begging for oxygen. I was beginning to panic. I never would've thought he’d have me in a situation afraid for my life. “What I tell you?! This shit is mine, you hear me? You are mine!”

“Cam... I can... can't bre...!” I honestly wasn’t sleeping with anyone else. I had only made a careless, stupid mistake and, damn, was I sorry. “Cam, please,” I mouthed to him. The edges of the room were starting to go dark.

“‘Please’ what? With your trifling ass!”

He slung my neck from his clutches and turned away in total disgust. I dropped to the floor, coughing and wheezing, trying to regulate my breathing. Foolishly thinking it was over, I put all of my attention on regaining some composure. I had to calm down. Losing the ability to breathe had always been a huge fear for me, and I didn't want to go into an anxiety attack. I had my hand on my chest, attempting to coax myself into taking deeper breaths, when I felt him grab the bun I had thrown to the top of my head.

“Get your hoe ass up!”

“I’m sorry,” I sobbed, just above a whisper. I knew I was wasting my time, but I still had to try. Maybe he would realize what he was doing and feel something for me past the rage. And cut me some damn slack. I felt like I was about to pass out. 

But he refused to let up, yanking me by the hair. I shrieked in pain. “Shut your damn mouth! Don't let me have to tell you again.”

I went against his wishes and continued to try and plead with him. It was my only option. I couldn’t be quiet and I was always too fearful to fight back. I just wasn't ready for the type of trouble that hitting him would for sure bring. His temper had become outrageous and he was so much taller and stronger than me. And, anyway, I somehow managed to piss him off just fine without having to touch him first. I started to feel the burden of his strength as my body began to slide across the floor. I threw my hand up to my head, kicking and screaming, hoping my actions would convince him to release me. I quickly accepted that it wouldn’t be so simple, so I just toughed it out until I was in the doorway. As soon as I saw my chance, I reached out and grabbed onto it with both hands, holding on for dear life.

“Cameron, no! Please don't do this to me! I'm so sorry! Just let me up so we can talk, please,” I shouted in one breath.

“Shut the fuck up! And let the door go!”

Again, I didn't follow his orders; which caused me instant regret. He snatched my hair so hard that I knew some of it had been ripped from my scalp. “Aaaaah, Caaaaam,” I wailed, squeezing my eyes shut and trying to tug my locks away from him. “Stooooop!”

“Let it go,” he roared. Then he bent down and pried my fingers from the moulding. He lugged me out into the hallway and I started to reach for the walls, railing, tables, vases, anything I could attach myself to. But attempting to grip things with only one hand proved impossible. I was knocking shit over and it was falling everywhere, tears were flying from my eyes, the hurt in my voice was undeniable and he didn't give a single fuck. His only care was getting me to his desired destination.

I was somewhat relieved when I saw that he wasn't going for the stairs, but it was no time to celebrate. The carpet was burning the hell out of my hips. Time seemed to lag behind, as those were the longest seconds of my life, being violated by something that was usually so soft and gentle to me. Cam, on the other hand, I was used to. 

After what had felt like forever, he finally brought the torture to an end in the upstairs media room about thirty-five feet away from where we’d started. And, without a pause, he picked me up and tossed my naked body onto the couch. 

“Don't move.”

I was so winded and trembling horribly, but I decided to do as told and remained as still as possible. He started to walk up on me and I just closed my eyes, sure I wasn't doing well enough for him. Terrified of what might've been coming next, I pulled my knees up to my chest and put my face down.

“I'm not cheating on you, baby, I promise. I wouldn't do that to us.” I peeked up at him and hated how familiar this was. I couldn’t even lie to myself anymore and say I didn’t recognize the person standing before me, but he was still so different from the guy I had met and fallen for all those years ago. This version of him just didn't give a fuck. I could easily see that he had absolutely no remorse for what he was doing to me; or all he had done before today for that matter. But, embarrassingly enough, that didn't change the fact that some variation of him still had my heart. “You gotta believe me, Cam. I love you.”

Something I said must’ve been the last straw, because he balled his fist and punched me in the face. Hard! The force even knocked me over. I screamed out, grabbing a hold of my jaw. His blow had made my teeth puncture the inside of my mouth.

“Do you not understand ‘shut the fuck up’?! It means close your damn mouth,” he yelled, answering himself. “Stop fucking talking! Just shut the fuck up!”

There was no more fight left in me. I was in agony. The inside of my cheek stung and I could taste the blood as I checked for broken teeth, my neck was sore from battling against his hand, I could feel about three separate areas where I was sure I had no skin, my head hurt where my hair had been so forcefully pulled, my hands were beat up by the things that had denied my grasp, my anxiety was in overdrive, and one side of my face throbbed as it tried to recover from a slap and a punch. I was done trying to convince him of anything. He was free to think whatever he wanted. 

“And you tell that nigga I'm coming for his ass next, ‘cause I'ma find out who the fuck he is! I swear, you got me so fucked up right now,” he huffed, pacing the floor and massaging his temples. “I don't want your dirty ass in my bed either, so get comfortable. And don't move.” His voice was calm, but, the way he eyed me, I knew not to get up. “When I get back in here, you better be in this same spot. Think I'm fucking playing.”

After his threatening lecture, he turned away and started to leave the room.

“Cam,” I reluctantly called, in a whisper. Blood was filling my mouth and I needed to spit badly. I needed my clothes, too.

“You ain't had enough,” he asked, coming toward me at a pace that caused my already high level of distress to rise. I put my hands out, in hopes that he wouldn't start up again. I knew I wouldn't be able to take much more. 

“Yes, yes! I just want some clothes and I need to go spit,” I exclaimed in one hurried breath. Thank God, he stopped and kept his hands to himself. 

“I want you naked. And swallow that shit.”

I frowned at his response. “But I can't swallow all this,” I gently opposed, tilting my head back to try and prevent it from spilling out as I spoke. 

“Swallow it... or you'll be picking up your fucking teeth.”

Pure shock took over my expression. I couldn't fathom that this was actually happening to me. At his hand. The man I loved, who I thought loved me. I didn't even know what to do with myself anymore. I just felt drained. Dealing with him had become exhausting for me, in every sense of the word. And things weren't getting any better. Instead, he was getting worse. 

New tears formed in my eyes as I fought to rid my mouth of the most foul tasting shit I had ever experienced. They quickly ran down to my chin where they dripped steadily onto my lap. Once I had succeeded, I looked up at him, longing for something--anything--and his face gave me nothing. At that point, all hope was lost. I turned my back to him, curling up and comforting myself, because I knew his ass wouldn't. And he just walked away.

As if it wasn't me who had stood by his side, rooting for him, when his ass had nothing; me who overlooked all of the bullshit he dished almost daily; me who had been nothing but good to him, done nothing but loved and trusted him; me who had gotten the abortion because he said he wasn't ready to be a father; and me who cooked for him, cleaned for him, did any and everything for him. Taking better care of him than I was myself. With no ring on my finger. That shit hurt more than any blow to the body could ever. That was a fucking blow to my heart!

All I could do was lie there in the dark, giving in to the desolation, weeping silently and praying things would turn around the way I always did. I ended up crying myself to sleep.

[slasherholic]

omg i never thought abt jen and mikey together but like......wow so pretty. do u have any thoughts or hcs u can share 🥺

tbh I only ship them as a crackship for the aesthetic™️ and also bc a power couple consisting of not one but TWO gorgeous murderous bastards is too much for my feeble villain fucker brain to handle

bUT YES I TOTALLY DO HAVE HCS. they’re v lazy but kinky as shit because michael really really needs to get dommed i mean knocked down a few pegs by a woman other than laurie sOOO

*note: the film never specifies jennifer’s age, and neither did any of the sources I researched, so I’m sticking with my pre-existing hc that she was an 18 y/o senior in the movie. jen is obviously a legal adult here 👍

HCs | Jennifer Check x Michael Myers (NSFW)

*AU where Jen lived and went on to be a bitchy succubus for all eternity and is now extremely good at what she does

*warning: non-consensual pp touching ahead

ha, hope y’all didn’t think this was gonna be an actual functional relationship cause IF SO well then��honey, you got a big storm comin

remember the jason x mikey ship dynamic where the gag is that mikey is basically jay jay’s stinky mean cat who gets sprayed in the face with water every time he’s bad?

yeah, so michael is jennifer’s bitch very angry, very fun pet. oh how the turntables, mikey

only jennifer doesn’t exactly share jason’s innocent nature ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

michael had been in the market for a new “s/o” after his old one errr broke

and since stalking jen made his pp very hard, she was obviously the perfect choice for the job

but when michael made his move on her, haha whOOPS

nice going pp brain, your not-so-victim is a literal man eater and you just broke into her home so now she’s going to kick your fucking ass

yes jen is stronger than michael, yes she can yeet him like a soda can across her kitchen, yes she can sit on his chest and choke him out against the floor, yes it all happened in that order and no michael doesn’t want to talk about it

in michael’s defense he did get a fuckton of fatal stabs in on jen before he conked out from oxygen deprivation

lol too bad she’s immortal dumbass

jen wasn’t expecting to be dining-in tonight, but oh well a bitch ain’t gonna turn down free catering

might as well get a peek at what’s on the menu tho, let’s just get this crusty ass mask outta way and—

—oop he’s gorg.

totally her type too, at least back when she dated boys instead of tearing out their livers

she’s not even -that- hungry, so like, she kinda doesn’t wanna kill him yet?

she like, kinda thinks he might look pretty chained up ass naked in her living room?

yeah she was right lol

also his dick big

tbh jen was only planning to keep michael around until she got hungry, but fuck, he’s just so much fun to play with

she figured out pretty quickly that he wasn’t gonna talk to her

but that’s cool, he doesn’t have to open his stubborn bitch mouth for her to know how much he fucking detests the cuffs he’s locked up in and her and the fact that she can overpower him

jen finds it really funny to pin michael’s limbs down and have sloppy make-out sessions with his pretty face until that nasty glare of his turns downright murderous

yeah it gets her bitten but she doesn’t care because that’s really hot what the fuck

he’s so feral she loves it

soon, she’s making a point of grinding her crotch against his bare cock as she sucks his lower lip until he pops a very hard and very angry boner

sometimes jen leaves her cute toy all alone afterwards to suffer with his problem

but sometimes, she reaches down and wraps one of her slender hands around his hard-on, stroking and squeezing and teasing until he’s beading up with precum, painfully swollen

and then she grips his powerful neck with her other hand

and while jerking his cock, c h o k e s him until he’s blue in the face, until his body is gasping and heaving reflexively, until he’s fighting and thrashing so violently that he’s nearly bucking her off

but oh my god, he comes like a motherfucking firehose

michael has never felt such indescribable rage in his entire life. not toward anything or anyone. nothing he has ever experienced approaches this boiling hatred; he despises jennifer check with every fiber of his empty black heart and when gets free he is going to murder her in the most brutal fashion his mind can possibly concoct.

and jennifer absolutely cannot get enough of him.

[hrtiu]

Foxiyo Week day 2! Better late than never! The prompt is Trust: safety, faith, protection. Sometimes, even the great Commander Fox needs protecting. AO3 link.

Nobody’s perfect. Even CC-1010, Commander Fox, highest ranking clone in the GAR, made mistakes sometimes. When pressed, there were exactly three mistakes over the course of his career that Fox could remember with perfect clarity.

---

“I specifically requested an escort for my trip to Bothawui, and you’re telling me no one’s available?” Senator Paulness asked, his watery eyes flashing in frustration.

Sithspit, Fox thought, looking down at his datapad. “Weren’t you sharing the transport with Senator Chuchi?”

Commander Fox stood on the landing platform between Senators Chuchi and Paulness and their respective entourages. Behind him a squad of clones stood at attention—enough clones for one senatorial escort but definitely not two.

“Senator Chuchi? When did I ever say anything about Senator Chuchi?” Senator Paulness said, hands on hips.

“Aren’t you both going to Bothawui?”

“Yes, but to entirely different cities on entirely different diplomatic missions! Do you think this one escort can be with both of us at the same time on two different sides of the planet, Commander?”

Fox looked back down at the datapad, his mind struggling to call back to his conversation with Senator Paulness from two months ago amidst the thousands of other meetings, councils, briefings, and requests floating around in his memory. Senators Paulness and Chuchi had approached him on the same day, requesting to go to the same system, but now that he thought about it, they hadn’t said they’d be going together.

“Eh, no, sir,” Fox said, already bracing for whatever ire Senator Paulness was about to unleash on him. “My mis-”

“I’m so sorry, Zinn,” Senator Chuchi said, approaching her colleague and taking him by the arm. “I told Commander Fox I’d be going with you when I made the request. When I first heard about your trip I thought we might travel together, then later I changed my mind and forgot to tell Commander Fox.”

Fox stared at Senator Chuchi like she’d grown a second head, though she had no way of telling on the other side of the helmet. She was lying. She was lying to spare his shiny ass.

Senator Paulness looked down at the blue arm hooked around his elbow, his eyebrows climbing up his forehead in surprise. “Oh, eh, well… It’s no problem, Senator Chuchi. An honest mistake.”

“I can get another escort together in a few hours,” Fox said, doing a few quick calculations on patrol schedules and outstanding favors on the inside of his visor. “Would that work for either of you?”

“Since it was my mistake, I’d be happy to take the later escort. Thank you for being so accommodating,” Senator Chuchi said, her composed features gracing him with an elegant smile. Fox resisted the urge to cough.

“Certainly.”

Fox got Senator Paulness sorted with his escort, then saw the transport off the landing platform and called in the squad who’d be taking Senator Chuchi. When all the logistics were finally done, he personally walked Senator Chuchi to the transport. He held a hand out to her to help her up the gangplank and she took it. 

“Thank you,” he said, just loud enough for the mic in his helmet to pick up and vocalize the message.

Senator Chuchi smiled down at him. “It was my pleasure, Commander.”

---

Fox’s second mistake nearly leveled the city. Fox stood on a platform overlooking the carnage the Zillo Beast had wrought, the sheer amount of work to do the only thing keeping him from boiling alive in a wash of guilt and anger. Over a hundred people, citizens and clones alike, killed by a beast that he and his men should have contained.

Chancellor Palpatine finished talking with the Jedi who’d helped subdue the beast, then joined Fox on the platform, the kindly face he always wore hardening just a fraction.

“Well, Commander. How did this happen? You told me this creature was secure.”

Fox tensed, his fingers flexing nervously on his blaster. Chancellor Palpatine represented the Republic in a literal sense, and failing him felt like failing Fox’s duty to the Republic. “We made it as secure as we could, sir. The beast was an unknown quantity.”

“There should have been contingencies. Backup plans! Ray shields on ray shields! Look at all these casualties,” Chancellor Palpatine said, his eyes misting over as they surveyed the smoldering city. 

Fox wanted to sink right into the duracrete below them and perish. “I… Sir, I… Did what I could-”

“Chancellor Palpatine, are you alright?” a soft, lilting voice said. “I heard you were trapped on an airship when the creature attacked.

Senator Riyo Chuchi joined them on the platform, her headpiece and elaborate hair dishevelled but otherwise unharmed. Chancellor Palpatine turned to her, his eyes widening and a weary smile rising to his lips.

“I am unharmed, thanks to the quick thinking of Anakin Skywalker,” he said.

“I’m so glad to hear it, Chancellor. And Commander,” she said, turning to Fox, “Please do not blame yourself for this incident. I saw that creature from the Senate building. There was no way to contain it, and it should never have been brought here in the first place.”

Chancellor Palpatine’s eyebrows rose and he leaned backwards, surprised by the Senator’s gentle, implied rebuke. And Fox… Well, Fox didn’t know how to feel. It was strange, having someone come to his defense, and this was the second time now. The deep well of guilt in his gut started to evaporate, if only a little, and his sense of personal responsibility for the carnage before him ebbed to a more manageable  degree.

“Well, ahem. Thank you, Senator Chuchi, for your concern,” Chancellor Palpatine said.

“Thank you, Senator Chuchi,” Fox said.

“No,” she said, reaching her hand out towards him. “Thank you for protecting our capital every day.”

He shook her hand, and even through his gloves he could swear he felt warmth.

---

The third mistake Fox made came very close to ending his life, but in other ways saved it.

He’d let the Jedi librarian—Jacosta Nu—go. She’d used her mind tricks on him and escaped. Fox wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do to apprehend someone who could warp his very thoughts, but excuses wouldn’t work on the Emperor, or on his new disciple, Darth Vader.

“The temple is sealed, Lord Vader,” Fox told the imposing man as he strode up the temple steps. “What are your orders?”

“Unless authorized by either the Emperor or me—no one enters, no one leaves.”

“Yes, sir.”

Vader swept past Fox, his long black cloak trailing behind him, and walked through the temple doors. Fox stayed behind, monitoring the comms and making sure the perimeter stayed clear. Then the shooting started.

“Sir, we’ve got another Jedi!” a trooper shouted frantically over the comm.

“Don’t let them escape! Apprehend them by any means necessary!” Fox said.

More shooting continued, then several screams. Fox lost one, two, three men.

“Commander Fox?” a voice asked, a voice entirely at odds with the current situation. Fox turned around and his heart rate spiked at the sight of Riyo Chuchi walking up the temple steps, ignoring the troopers waving her away.

“Ma’am, this area is not safe-”

“What’s going on, Fox? They’re saying that the Jedi have betrayed us, but that can’t be true! I can’t get a straight answer out of anyone-”

“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to leave, right now,” Fox said, his teeth grinding in tension. She was not supposed to be here. Fox wasn’t allowed to have opinions about his orders, but one thing he did know was that he didn’t want Riyo Chuchi’s hands to be sullied by the kind of work he had to do now.

He signalled to Captain Dennet, and the trooper gently but firmly took Senator Chuchi by the arm and started to haul her away.

Fox checked back in on his comms, and everything was chaos.

“He got Sinkeye!”

“Ahhh!”

“Wait, wait! That’s not a Jedi-!”

Then Darth Vader himself descended from a broken window high up on the temple wall, his bulky body moving with a balletic grace. As the dark figure slowly advanced on him, it all came together in Fox’s head. The chaos from the comms, Vader’s orders, the cold anger in his voice—this was an even bigger mistake than letting the librarian go.

“Your men were shooting at me, Commander,” he said, coming to a stop right in front of Fox.

This will be the last mistake I ever make, Fox thought, his hands starting to shake in one final contradiction to the training he’d received on Kamino. Now, Fox knew with absolute certainty that clones could fear.

“I’m sorry, sir! They thought you were the Jedi-”

“Did you not provide your troops with my description?”

“I- I didn’t expect anything like this to happen, sir. I just didn’t think-”

Darth Vader raised his hand and Fox squeezed his eyes shut, somehow knowing despite having never dealt with him before that Vader’s hand was all it would take to kill him.

“Stop!”

Fox opened his eyes and all he could see was the back of Senator Chuchi’s cloak, the crimson hiding him from the murderous man before him.

“Senator, this matter does not concern you. Leave,” Vader said, his voice deathly still.

“I know that things are different now with the Emperor, and you may be his acolyte, but the Senate still exists. Are you going to murder me, too, to get to Fox? Because that’s what it will take,” Senator Chuchi said, utterly unbowed.

Beyond Senator Chuchi, Vader stood stock still, his mechanized breath slowly puffing in and out. He examined Senator Chuchi like he might a bug beneath his boot, and Fox felt sure that his mistake would now cost two lives instead of one.

“I will be telling the Emperor about this,” Vader said, then he whisked away.

Fox inhaled, the oxygen flooding his deprived brain. He didn’t even realize the power had left his limbs until Senator Chuchi caught him, her tiny frame propping him up.

“Commander Fox, you need to get out of here.”

“...But… We need to keep the perimeter secure…”

Senator Chuchi shoved him back so he was centered on his feet again and looked him sternly in the eye. Fox wondered somewhere in the back of his mind how she managed to catch his gaze through the helmet.

“If you ever see that man again, he’ll kill you. You need to leave.”

“I can’t leave,” Fox protested. “I’m Commander of the Coruscant Guard.”

“We both need to leave. I don’t know if this ‘Lord Vader’ will have much mercy to spare for me, either. If I can see where the wind is blowing, the Senate may very soon become powerless in the face of this new regime.”

“I can’t-”

“Sir,” Captain Dennet interrupted. “Sir, you should go with the Senator. She’s right—Lord Vader will kill you. Either way you’re no longer with the Guard, but at least if you leave you escape with your life.”

Fox looked around, and the other clone troopers nodded solemnly. His chest tightened at their support and concern for him, at the permission they were giving him.

Senator Chuchi held out her hand to him. “Come with me, I was already preparing a transport in case of emergencies.”

Fox looked down at the hand, the pale blue laced with indigo where her skin creased. She was so small and seemingly delicate, and yet she’d caught him each time he fell.

He took her hand.

[threeletterslife]

02 | Illegirl

→ previous | next

→ summary: Excelling in every school subject, acing every math test and conquering the academic world is something you do as easily as breathing. As your residential social outcast nerd, you live rather as a recluse, talking to almost no one except for your dear ol’ cousin and that sweet boy in a few of your classes—Jungkook? was that his name? Befriending your ʰᵒᵗ AP stats teacher was the last thing on your high school senior agenda…

→ genre: 90% fluff, 8% crack, 2% angst | teacher!au & f2l!au

→ warnings: profanity (89% of it is y/n and the other 11% is jimin), very very brief mentions of sexual harassment, making googly eyes over jimin’s rock-hard abs

→ wordcount: 10.4k

You should've known.

You should've known the trip would be shit.

"Jin, I can't believe you brought my bikini!" you yell accusingly, picking up the yellow swimsuit in disdain. "I have two other one-pieces, but no, you just had to pick this one!"

Your cousin doesn't even look at you. "You've got a nice body, own it," he answers, fumbling around to find his own swim trunks.

"Oh my god. I can 'own it' some other time, you know, when Jimin won't be around!"

"Who cares? It's not like you're stripping naked in front of him. It's just a swimsuit, literally designed for wearers to own it," your cousin says, shrugging. "Besides, he's just your teacher."

You scrunch your nose. "And that makes me feel better how?"

"Well, he's just someone who happens to be more knowledgeable than you to teach you a certain subject. No matter," Jin shrugs. "It's not like you two are doing inappropriate things on the side. Oh boy, then that'd be illegal for sure."

You look down at your toes. Wow, I don't feel guilty at all.

Not wanting your cousin to go further, you sigh, biting your tongue, and you take the pretty yellow bikini to the bathroom. How worse can it get?

It was worse.

Way, way, worse. You might even feel faint.

"Dang, Jimin, my boy," Jin catcalls. "Have you been working out?"

Jimin shrugs. "A little."

While you had felt just plain wrong wearing a bikini in front of your teacher, it seemed so that your teacher gave zero fucks about being completely shirtless in front of his student.

You try to look away, but Jimin's well-toned abs are just a tad bit too perfect to not look at. Making sure your cousin and teacher aren't looking, you take a couple of peeks.

"Y/N!" Jin exclaims, causing you to jump. "Why are you still wearing that bathrobe? I told you to own it."

You shake your head. "I'll take it off once we're near the water."

Your cousin rolls his eyes and walks away, figuring your stubborn personality won't bend to his simple suggestion. You take this opportunity to sneak another look at your teacher's abs, this time, eyes trailing up to look at his face when his wide, chocolate eyes meet yours. You almost let out a loud squeak, blushing while quickly averting your eyes. Had he been looking at you?

Well, shit. This is more awkward than a family dinner. But not that you've ever had one, anyways.

In silence, the three of you walk to the very edge of the wooden walkway which stopped just above five-foot deep ocean water.

"What a beautiful view," Jin says proudly, placing two hands on his hips. "I think I see the fish in there too!" He thinks for a moment. Then without warning, your cousin takes a running leap into the clear waters, bellowing the word: "Cannonball!" at the top of his lungs.

He splashes into the ocean, drenching you and Jimin from head to toe. In fact, you look like you've just gotten out of a bath. "Jin!" you whine, trying to wring the water out of your hair.

"Come in, baby cousin!" he replies, giggling at your annoyed reaction as he starts to backstroke away from the walkway.

You roll your eyes dramatically but obey, cautiously dipping your foot into the seawater. But you get a strange feeling someone is watching you. Whipping your head around, sure enough, you see Jimin staring curiously at you. You raise your eyebrows.

"What?" you say accusingly.

"What?" he says, raising up two hands in defense.

"What?"

"What?"

"What?"

"What?"

"Okay, why were you staring?" you say, cutting off the stupid repartee.

"W-what?" Jimin stutters. "When was I staring?"

You sigh. "You know what? Whatever," you mutter under your breath. Wanting to get away from your teacher as quickly as possible, you peel your drenched bathrobe off your body, flinging it away. Then, as fast-as-lightning, you dive into the ocean.

The cool water envelops your warm skin, welcoming you into the vast sea. You smile to yourself as you feel the minuscule underwater bubbles wrapping around you. For just a few seconds you forget all of your problems as you dolphin-kick further into the tranquil waters. You're almost sad when you're forced to resurface from the lack of oxygen.

Rubbing the saltwater away from your eyes, you open them to see Jimin was already swimming towards Jin, who was yelling and waving his arms around. He reminded you of a panicked mime to be quite honest.

You smile to yourself at the thought.

"I'm coming!" you shout back, diving back under the water again to swim towards your cousin and teacher.

Jin and Jimin are standing around in the ocean when you reach them. And for some reason, with your slightly tired legs, you believed you could as well. Attempting to find the sandy bottom with your feet, you completely forget how short you were compared to the two men.

It happens all too fast when you can't breathe anymore, your face submerged underwater as you fall deeper into the saltwater. In the rather pathetic process, you panic, flailing your arms around in a pitiful attempt to get back up to the surface. But you should've kept your calm—pain shoots up your nostrils when you accidentally take a deep breath through your nose. You hate to admit it, but you might just be drowning.

You don't think the ocean is so beautiful now.

"Y/N!" you hear a muffled scream from above. It's either Jin or Jimin—maybe both, you don't know.

Warm hands wrap around your waist, tugging you back to the surface. Immediately you get into a coughing fit, keeping your eyes squeezed shut as you instinctively wrap your legs around your savior's waist. You choke out more water that had gotten into your system as the person you think is Jin pats your back in an attempt to help, but you swat his hand away.

"No, I'm fine, you don't have to help me! I could've totally handled th—"

You'd opened your eyes. It hadn't been Jin who had been your savior, contrary to your belief. It had been Jimin. You're in his arms, bare stomachs touching, legs wrapped around his waist.

No. NO. NOO.

You gasp, but cough instead. Your face burns, and you don't know if it's from the lack of oxygen or the embarrassment that you're half-naked in your teacher's arms.

God, why the fuck does this shit just happen to me?

You're a choking mess as Jimin attempts to pat your back again. You want to tell him not to touch you, but you're afraid if he doesn't help at the moment, you'll die from choking on water.

It takes a while but you stop coughing, throat very sore. Jimin finally lets you go when you slightly push away from him, your head hanging low in shame. How humiliating.

Jin immediately pulls you into his arms, sweeping away the wet baby hair that was clinging to your forehead. He gives your cheek a little pat. "Stupid," he says, lightly flicking your forehead. "You could've been in some real trouble. Did you really think you were as tall as us?"

"Uh, I hoped?" you answer, eliciting a chuckle from Jimin.

"Why is your baby cousin so much like you?" he says.

"That's 'cause I practically raised her," Jin says proudly, hugging you tightly.

"For the worse," you tease, hitting his chest.

Jin laughs. "Just don't try drowning again, okay? I was actually worried."

"I'm an ace swimmer, I don't drown," you reply, sticking your tongue out at your cousin. "Not usually anyway..." You puff out your cheeks in thought, racking your brain to change the humiliating topic as smoothly as you can. "Well, now, who's up for a game of Marco Polo?"

"Man, that was some fucking dinner," you mumble, laying like a starfish on the comfy bed as you rub your protruding tummy through your white t-shirt. "I look pregnant. And the father is food."

You stifle a small yawn as you turn your head to look out the window. The view really is beautiful. Jin had outdone himself renting this damn nice beach house. The dark, sparkling ocean reflects the shining stars in the sky, and the black outlines of swaying palm trees make you almost taste the salty beach night breeze.

Honestly, you could've drifted off to sleep right then and there. But of course, someone knocks on your door, disturbing you and your food baby.

"Jin?" you call, sitting up on your bed in an unflattering angle (no doubt revealing a double chin).

"Actually, it's Ji—Mr. Park," the familiar voice answers. You should've known that low, silky voice was nothing like your cousin's silvery tone.

Well, fuck.

"Uh, well, sorry. Y/N's occupied at the moment," you lie, lying back down on the bed and praying your teacher would just yeet out.

You can hear Jimin sigh outside your bedroom door. He impatiently knocks on your door again. "Yeah, but Jin's drunk. I came to ask for help."

"Oh my god." You sigh as well, groaning as you get up from your bed. "I told him not to get drunk anymore! I swear he's doing it on purpose now, just to spite me!" You throw open the door, seething with frustration. Big mistake.

"HOLY FUCK!" you shriek, throwing your hands over your poor (or maybe blessed) eyes. "GO PUT ON A DAMN SHIRT!"

There was your teacher, completely shirtless. He's dripping wet (from what you innocently assume is water), and he's definitely not flexing but damn those abs. Jimin runs his hand through his damp, black hair in irritation. "Yeah, I will later, alright? Just... C'mon, Y/N, I really do need your help."

It feels so wrong to stand in front of your shirtless teacher, especially after what had gone down between the two of you. You try your best to keep it professional, making sure your eyes get minimal contact with Jimin's well-defined abs.

"Your cousin's about to pass out in the hot tub, and I think we'd both appreciate it if we got him to bed before he drowns," your teacher continues, running another hand through his black hair as if by habit.

"God, that damn idiot." You shake your head in disapproval as your awkwardly maneuver your way around your unprofessionally dressed teacher. Starting to walk ahead towards the hot tub outside the beach house, you turn around only to ask Jimin a question. "So, did he throw up yet?"

"Not yet, no," Jimin answers, catching up to you. "Take that as a good sign. We should get to him before he decides to turn his insides out."

But you're barely listening to what your teacher's saying. You're just too distracted by the fact that this shirtless man is walking so close to you. So close that his wet skin glides by your dry (lotion lacking) arm every step you take. Your face is probably steaming redder than the spicy chili pepper you'd eaten at dinner.

When you finally get to the nice hot tub, you see your older cousin splashing about in the water. Not only is he acting like he's six, but he's also attempting to doggy paddle around the small tub. You're starting to worry if alcohol can severely kill off brain cells.

"Jin..." you say, lowering your voice in a dangerous whisper. You approach your cousin who was still god forbid playing in the hot tub. "What did I say about drinking?"

At the sound of your voice, your cousin perks up, stopping his atrocious doggy paddling to give you a goofy grin. "Oh, hey, Y/N!" He cranes his neck and squints, looking behind you. "Oh, you brought Jimin! Hey, man, come in!"

You shake your head, mouth set in a stern frown. "What did I say about drinking, Jin?"

Your cousin actually has the nerve to snort at you. "I don't remember."

"That's it!" you roar, pointing accusingly at Jin. "Get out. No one's allowed to go in that hot tub for the rest of the day."

"No!" Jin giggles. He splashes back in the pool, floating on his back. "Can we all acknowledge how nice my boy Jimin's abs are?" Your cousin waves his arms around dramatically, then blows a kiss to the night sky.

"You're drunk," you accuse.

"I am aware~" Jin sings, blowing another damn kiss to the moon.

"Yeah, no. We're getting you out of the tub," you sigh, desperately catching your teacher's eye. "Mr. Park, help!"

You lumber forward, gripping onto Jin's upper half of his body as he flails his arms wildly, nearly missing poking your eyeball out. "Stop it!" you yell, resisting the urge to wack his across the head. "I'm trying to help you, alright? Look, you're getting me wet!"

Jimin laughs at your helplessness, which earns him a death glare from you. Without another sound, he grabs onto Jin's legs, helping you haul him out of the tub. But the whole process is messy.

Your cousin won't stop flailing around his arms, singing the alphabet backward in a high-pitched, off-tune voice that makes you want to rip out all of your hair strand by strand. You and Jimin try to ignore the chaotic evil that is your cousin, persistently trying to carry him off to his hotel room. "I'm literally going to kill you," you remind Jin every five seconds.

Finally, when you get to your cousin's room, you practically throw him on his bed, shaking the water off of your arms. "Thanks a lot, idiot," you seethe. "My whole shirt is wet!" You try to squeeze the dampness out of the cotton material of your shirt to no avail.

Instead of feeling sorry, Jin just grins mischievously. "What shirt?"

You roll your eyes. "Get some glasses, you dud. Your friend here isn't wearing a shirt, but I am."

Jin giggles. "Nope!"

"Argh!" you scream in exasperation, turning to Jimin as steam practically escapes from your red ears. "Let's go."

But your teacher stays in place, his face slightly red as he turns his back to you. "Uh... he's right," Jimin mutters. "Um... the water... you're um, wearing white..."

Oh fuck.

You don't even want to look down to see what sort of stuff you were revealing. Fast as lightning, you cross your arms over your chest, hoping you didn't flash anything too bad. Then without another word, you attempt to dash out of the room, but someone grabs your wrist, stopping you.

Oh what do you know, it's Jimin.

"Wait, Y/N! We still need to talk, remember?" Jimin protests, averting his eyes from your body as his tight grip slightly loosens on your wrist.

"Goddammit, can it wait until we're both wearing an adequate shirt?!" you shriek, wretching out of your teacher's grasps. "This has to be the worst timing ever!"

"Right, shit. Sorry, you're right," Jimin quickly says, stepping back with a bright red face. "Just... meet me outside. I'll take care of Jin."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," you say in haste. "You saw nothing!" Then, you make a mad dash to your room, your face burning from embarrassment and sheer confusion.

The moment you reach your safe place, you collapse on your bed, allowing yourself to take a deep breath. You just can't help but worry. What did your teacher want to talk about? Why here? Why now? He surely didn't remember that day... right?

You almost consider blowing the meeting off but think better of it. It would just create more drama and more things to talk about. So you drag yourself out of bed, forcing your arms to grab a clean t-shirt to change.

It takes a lot of contemplation to leave the privacy and safety of your room. But you finally do, trudging outside to see Jimin was already waiting.

He had slipped on a nice-fitting black shirt over his swim trunks and was running his fingers through his damp hair. What really ticked you off was the fact that he was sitting on the edge of the hot tub, dipping his feet into the warm water.

If you can remember clearly, you'd announced that no one was allowed to be in the hot tub for the rest of the day. But whatever.

You look back at the screen door, actually wondering if you should just leave. You've done nothing wrong... right? But why is your heart beating furiously in your chest? And why the fuck are your armpits accumulating sweat? God, you want to avoid this conversation at all costs. Yet you've avoided it for too long; it had to come sooner or later.

Fuck it.

You take a deep breath, making your way (semi-confidently) over to the hot tub and sitting across from your teacher as you dip your feet in the water as well. But you refuse to look at him.

"Y/N..." Jimin softly says. You grit your teeth, averting your gaze off to the beautiful night sky. Then, it's silent. After a few minutes, you're starting to wonder if the talk will never start, and you'll be able to be in peace.

But no, the silence just has to be interrupted by that darn Jimin. He's chuckling, giving you a non-threatening, almost friendly look.

"Y/N, you went so far to avoid this conversation, you know," your teacher laughs.

No kidding.

"I happen to be very close friends with Mr. Jung, your literature teacher," Jimin says, making your blood run cold. "He assured me you two never had a talk."

Fuck.

"I also happen to be close friends with Namjoon, or Mr. Kim, your philosophy teacher," Jimin continues. "Turns out your class never does projects."

Shit.

"And, Jin booked this trip knowing it wasn't your... er, time of month."

Your ears turn bright red as you look down at your feet in the hot tub. How the fuck are you supposed to react to being completely exposed?

"Y-You know what?" you blurt out. "Let's look at the view! Yeah, the view? Isn't it real nice?" you exclaim overly excitedly, pointing out to the dark waters.

Jimin seems slightly taken aback by your outburst, but nods in agreement. "Yes, well I agree... it's a nice view." He scratches his head awkwardly. "But um, Y/N... This is a bit serious. Can we focus?"

Dammit.

"Y-Yeah... sorry."

"Thank you." Jimin nods curtly. "So um, about last Friday..."

Your eyes bulge out of their sockets as all of your muscles tense up. Nononono, this cannot be happening!

"I just want to tell you that, uh... I'm sorry." Jimin runs his fingers through his hair, awkwardly leaning back on the edge of the hot tub.

"Sorry? Sorry for what?" you ask, frown lines appearing out of confusion.

"For sexually harassing you."

What. WHAT? WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAT???? HE REMEMBERED??

"W-What?"

Jimin squirms in his seat. "Please don't make me say it again," he begs. "I'm so sorry I sexually harassed you. I'm so sorry I made you feel uncomfortable in any way. I was drunk, I wasn't thinking straight, I was—"

"Wait, no, that definitely wasn't sexual harassment," you interrupt, shaking your head in disagreement. "Especially not if I kissed back."

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you want to throw yourself into the goddamn ocean. If the situation wasn't bad before, it was bad now.

"I-I mean, you were drunk, Mr. Park," you blubber, trying to save yourself. "It's fine. I wasn't even drunk."

You want to facepalm for the sake of your idiocy.

Jimin's face turns bright red as he shakes his head. "I... lured you," he says as if were admitting a felony. "It wasn't your fault."

"H-How do you know?" you squeak. "I mean, how much do you remember?" Your hands grip the edge of the hot tub, slipping once in a while due to the accumulation of sweat.

"Everything..." Jimin admits. "I remember everything I did and said, Y/N. I'm so sorry."

You can't find your words. But maybe that's a good thing, judging how much of a goddamn blabbermouth you are. Yet you've really got to give it to your teacher. It takes massive guts to apologize for your wrongdoings—especially drunk wrongdoings.

"Can we just," Jimin sighs, "can we just forget it happened?"

You nod your head vigorously without a second thought. But you pause abruptly. "But that's the problem," you say. "How can I forget that my own teacher kissed me and called me pet names?" Sighing, you rub your forehead. Until you realized you fucked up for the billionth time today. "Shit. Sorry. That was not appropriate."

"W-Well, you're not wrong," Jimin mutters, avoiding your eye contact again. "I just get... really tipsy when I'm drunk."

"Yeah, no kidding," you mumble under your breath. "But I really don't think I can promise to forget. I mean, it's hard not to remember something like that... I'm really sorry. I don't think I can do it."

Jimin nods, finally looking up at you to give you a small smile. "Well, same here, Y/N. It's not something that happens every day, at least, I hope not. But whatever you remember from that night, don't take it seriously."

"Of course I won't!" You scoff. "Why would I take it seriously? You were drunk!"

"Well, I dunno, because you uh, kissed back?" Jimin laughs. Then, he stiffens, shaking his head. "Sorry. That was not appropriate."

"Yeah well, you and me both, Mr. Park."

Your teacher laughs again, a sound you're starting to grow quite fond of. "Don't call me Mr. Park, Y/N."

What now.

Jimin stutters, flushing red. "Wait, I mean, don't call me Mr. Park here, like this. Fuck! I mean, just don't call me Mr. Park outside of school. It makes me feel old, you know?"

You chuckle at your teacher's awkwardness that nearly matched your own. "Yeah, that's a good idea," you agree. "I feel awkward every time I say it."

Because it sounds fucking kinky.

Jimin laughs again, releasing a sweet and low noise that makes you smile. "Well, I guess the awaited talk is finally over." He stands up, slipping out of the hot tub. "I hope you accept my apology. Good night, Y/N."

"Accepted. Good night... Jimin."

Usually, you like to wake up on your own time when the birds are chirping and morning sunlight pouring in through your windows. Nothing satisfies you more than rousing from your slumber with your own natural alarm clock. Nothing dissatisfies you more than being awakened from another being.

"Up!" a chirpy voice screams too close to your ear. "Wake up, Y/N!"

Groaning, you turn over to face the loud voice that was bothering you from your peace. Your eyes flutter open to catch a blurry sight of a person, a man. You frown. A few blinks later, the figure is much clearer and portrays an obvious rendition of your goddamn teacher.

BiTch, wHat tHe fUck.

The sight jerks you awake immediately. Gasping unholily, you scramble up, legs tangling up in the sheets in your panic as you try to straighten up your sleep attire and tame your bed hair. "JIMIN?"

A dream? Is this a dream??

Your mind scrambles alike, trying to come up with an explanation as to why your teacher was in your room at this early hour. Oh god, is he drunk again??

"Relax, relax!" Jimin grins, placing a sassy hand on his hip as he stands up straight like the equanimous man that he is. "I know, I know, probably not the most welcoming thing to see when you wake up..." He shrugs. "But Jin threatened to starve me if I didn't wake you up."

No kidding. Imagine partaking in a peaceful slumber only to be awakened by your fucking teacher of all things. Sounds like some kid's nightmare. But then again, Jimin had had no choice. Jin had threatened to starve him, which was never a good sign.

Still, your mind slips back to last night's awkward endeavors. Oh god. You shudder as the memories flood back into your brain. But today's a new day, a fresh, new start to you and Jimin with no past held grudges. Maybe it'll go swell.

"Er... So how's Jin's hangover?" You untangle your legs from the sheets, almost stumbling to get out of bed. Adjusting the ancient t-shirt you've worn for sleepwear for several years too long, you look expectantly at your teacher, who, unlike you, seems outwardly put-together (judging by his clothes).

Jimin chuckles. "Well, he's making himself the hangover breakfast... You know, because he and I both know that I can't cook for shit."

You snort, "Yeah you and me both."

It's actually much easier to slip into a conversation with Jimin after that. Both of you take your time walking to the kitchen for breakfast as the chat becomes more and more relaxing and familiar. Who knew passionate talking about French mathematician René Descartes would open a comfortable morning talk?

All too soon, you're in the kitchen. Jin's humming to himself as he's tending to three different pots and pans, but he perks up and turns around when he hears your footsteps.

He eyes you and Jimin up and down, particularly squinting at the rather sliver gap between the two of you before a grin spreads across his face. "Well," he announces, hands on his hips, "you two seem to be less awkward."

You almost snort out loud, but opt for a quiet, "Yeah, I wonder why."

Next to you, Jimin hears and chuckles. "We just had a little talk, and that seemed to solve everything."

"No biggie," you add, sarcasm sprinkled lightly across your words.

But your cousin doesn't notice it as he wildly claps his hands together like an overenthusiastic seal. "Great! Now that you two are less awkward, we can actually start our vacation!"

You and Jimin exchange nervous looks.

"Oh my god, oh my GOD, OH MY GOD!" you scream bloody murder at the top of your lungs as you struggle to take a deep breath. "Jimin, you're going too fast! Too fast!"

"That's what she said," your cousin snorts, but immediately ducks his head as if he was ashamed of his sudden inappropriate outburst.

"God, Jin. Shut up!" you yell, gripping onto your cousin as if your life depended on it—which it kind of did.

Speedboats have never been your thing. Well, actually, adrenaline rush has never been your thing. Anything going over 50 mph made you feel sick in the stomach and rightfully knocked the wind out of you. In fact, you're highly convinced that you can die sitting in any vehicle moving at rapid speeds.

"Wow, Y/N, didn't know you were such a scaredy-cat," Jimin calls from the front. He turns around slightly to make this comment, chuckling good-heartedly at your rather pathetic state where you're clinging onto your cousin and all. The salty ocean wind righteously muses his shiny, black hair, bringing justice to anyone gazing at him. His bright and beautiful grin paired with his tan, muscular arms could honestly bring world peace if you admit to being dramatic. In fact, his whole body seemed to be radiating, sparkling in the blinding sunlight as small, pearlescent water droplets reflected even more light for you to gratefully perceive.  

But wait a minute. This is your teacher you're talking about here. Stop it! You tell yourself. Stop making your teacher sound hotter than he already is!

"So what if I'm a scaredy-cat?!" you bellow, squeezing your eyes shut and tightening your grip on Jin as your hair flies around your head maddeningly.

"So you can't enjoy this lovely boat ride!" Jin screams back, although he's literally right next to you. In the next second, you assume your billowing hair has smacked his face one too many times because your cousin pulls your wind-blown, wavy hair back in a low ponytail. "I swear, these locks of yours have been releasing all havoc on me since the moment we got on! Do you have a hair tie?!"

You don't answer, instead wordlessly jutting out your wrist to offer your cousin one of the four hair ties that were fitted on there. Jin takes his goddamn time choosing a hair tie (even though they're all the identical plain black design) and he takes even more time tugging it off your wrist. Then it takes a whole eon for him to tie your chaotic hair for you, making sure to soothe out all the tangles to give you the best hair-tying experience ever.

As time-consuming the process is, it's comfortable and way less turbulent than what could've been if Jin hadn't helped. It's times like this that makes you wonder where you would be in life without your cousin. You don't even want to answer that, much less list the possibilities.

Your upset stomach seems to wreck you out of your own thoughts. One more second on this boat and I'm going to heave the remains of breakfast.

But lo-and-behold to your utmost gratitude, the speedboat comes into a slow stop. The wind no longer threatens to steal your breath away and the salty fish-feces water no longer splatters dangerously close to your lips. You let out a grateful sigh.

"Is it over?" you ask, finally managing to open your eyes.

"You're acting as if the boat ride was torture," Jin snorts, playfully shoving you.

"It was!!" you insist. "But for real, is it over?"

Jimin chuckles, steering the boat to a shady spot underneath towering trees with lush leaves. "Well, for now, it is."

"What?!"

"See, Y/N," Jin laughs, patting your shoulder, "we still have to go hiking later. We'll relax here for a couple of hours, but ultimately we'll have to take a boat ride back."

"Oh god," you groan, dramatically arching your back and placing a distressed hand on your forehead. With that, you slide down to the bottom of the boat, making yourself comfortable amidst shit-smelling life jackets. "Please wake me up once this trip is over, thank you."

You kind of said that as a joke, but the next thing you know, you've actually fallen asleep.

There's no turning back now. You really do hope your cousin will wake you once you're home.  

Okay, so Jin didn't wake you up when the trip was over; you woke up yourself, and you were still clearly in the middle of the vacation.

But soon it dawns on you that there are bigger problems than you not being at home. For starters, you're not walking, but you're somehow moving. It takes another hot second to realize you're on someone's back.

It takes another hot minute to realize your arms are loosely hanging around another's neck, your bare legs wrapped around their waist. This is probably the fastest you've ever shaken off your sleepiness. Only because your mind likes to anticipate the worst, as always.

"JIMIN?!" you shriek, kicking to get off of his back. "Let me go!"

He listens, letting you slide off his back and land (a bit wobbly) on the ground. But when he turns around, it's quite apparent he hadn't been Jimin but quite actually your own cousin.

"Y/N!" Jin sighs. "First off, you've been living with me for so long, but you still can't tell who I am?" he teases, quirking his eyebrow at you. "Second, you can't just try to jump off my back like that! This hike is near a cliff; you could've fallen to your death if you jumped a tad bit later!"

"Besides," a voice chuckles from behind. You whirl around to see Jimin, adjusting his expensive-looking sunglasses as he grins. "What made you think I'd carry you?"

"W-Well..." You stop yourself. Well, it might just be because we've made out before, but haha, no matter right?

"Yeah, anyways," Jin huffs, patting a huge bag, "I've got sunblock, aloe cream, water bottles,..."

Once Jin starts listing the million little things he brought to aide the three of you on the hike, you zone out. The heat of the sun penetrates through the little shade of the leave-less trees, and you can already feel sweat accumulating on your forehead. A bit irritated, you wipe the sweat off on the back of your hand, then wipe the back of your hand on your t-shirt. It's already getting so hot and stuffy. You can't imagine how bad it would be when you're actually out in the open and walking.

It does not sound like music to your ears.

By the time you break from your thoughts, your cousin is still listing the shit he brought. You can't believe your ears. No, you're not going to stand here waiting to drown in a puddle of your own sweat. You're going to get this dumb hike over with—even if you have to get it done alone.

"Yeah, yeah," you quickly interrupt your cousin babbling on about how cool his new hiking shoes are. Jin and Jimin turn to you, looking at you expectantly to say something. So you do. "Yeah, um so... race you!" you yell, whirling around and sprinting towards the narrow ledge of the hiking trail.

"Wait, Y/N!" you hear your cousin and his friend shout from behind.

You pay no mind, even running faster. If they wanted to tell you to stop, they'd have to catch you first. You'd just be waiting on the other side of the trail, sipping on ice-cold lemonade from the refreshments stand.

Yeah, you're a math genius. You know very well, too well, that Y/N plus heat equals utter disaster. It's a surefire equation that works every time. And that's what you were wary of before you decided to sprint through the hike—to avoid disaster.

But of course, before you had started sprinting to the end of the hike, you'd forgotten you hadn't gotten that much exercise the past... seventeen years of your life. It's no wonder that your endurance is a big, fat zero. You've been running, lightning-speed, for only seven minutes but you're heaving for breath.

You realize at that moment, with a heavy heart, that you cannot go on like this. If Jin found out you fainted from dehydration and fell off the cliff, he'd pull up your body to murder you all over again. For being reckless and stupid, that is. You have no choice but to stop running.

Your legs feel like jelly as you wobble your way over to some rocks before collapsing on them. The jagged surface digs behind your back, but it's the least of your worries. You squint, shielding your eyes from the scorching sunlight. Damn. Looks like none of your trip companions had taken the race seriously. They hadn't even tried to catch up to y—

"Y/N!"

Oh, nevermind.

"Y/N!" the voice shrieks again. It takes you two seconds to realize that's not Jin's voice. Which leaves Jimin as the culprit.

Quickly, you try to look less, for the lack of better word choice, dead. You try to wipe the sweat running down your face and fix your hair before sitting upon the rock. Just in time, Jimin comes into view, holding an ice-cold water bottle in his hand.

"What on earth, Y/N! You're a fast runner!" he wheezes, nearly toppling over as he collapses on the rock next to you. He breathes as heavily as you are, running a hand through his wet hair. "Do you need water?"

You nod gladly and wordlessly, mouth completely parched. Jimin's hand juts out as he hands you the water bottle, and you take it gratefully. Uncapping the bottle, you take a nice, long birdy, relishing at the moment as the cool water hits the back of your throat. When you finish, you wipe the excess water trickling down the corners of your lips with the back of your hand, and you hand the water bottle back to Jimin. Your eyes enlarge as he uncaps it swiftly and takes a large swig, pressing his lips to the bottle's opening.

Okay. Never would you have thought you'd be sharing a water bottle with your teacher. That was something new.

There's a bit of awkward silence as both you and Jimin catch your breaths in the torrid heat of the afternoon. You jump when Jimin chuckles, breaking the moment of silence.

"Y/N," he laughs, "I'm not sure you understand what hiking is."

You make a face. Hiking? You would look up the exact definition if you could (just to double-check), but you're pretty sure there's no wifi around here. So you go with the definition you previously had in your head. "Isn't it just walking in nature?"

Jimin shrugs. "Well, yeah, but you have to admire the nature too. Jin's kinda pissed 'cause he thought we'd take our time hiking the trail, but you just ran off."

Oh no. Pissed Jin was not a good sign. "Shit," you mutter underneath your breath. "Where is he?"

"Fortunately for you, he's really far back." Your teacher adjusts his sunglasses and smiles. "You know your cousin, he hates not admiring anything. We'd be lucky if he even finishes the trail."

You laugh, nodding. "Accurate! Do you understand the struggle of having to wait for him to finish up in the bathroom in the morning? He can spend three hours looking at his reflection in the mirror!"

"That sounds like Seokjin, alright," Jimin snorts, shaking his head. "Do you think he'll spare us this time and make it quick?"

"Yikes, I really don't know," you sigh. "Maybe we should go back for him?"

Your teacher cocks an eyebrow. "You think?"

"No, not really." You shrug, stretching out your arms before grinning mischievously. "Let's let him catch up himself."

"Exactly what I was thinking."

You and your teacher quietly wait for your cousin to show up. But you should've known Jin, that slowpoke, would take forever. The hot sun beats down on you and you realize you didn't even put on sunblock—you had run off before Jin reminded you with his motherly instincts.

Hot sweat trickles down the back of your neck and you flinch.

I fucking swear if I can feel my own sweat trickling down my neck again I will flip.

You sigh. You know you need a good distraction... maybe talking will help? You desperately turn your head towards your teacher who looks as just as about done as you are.

His black hair is shimmering from his own sweat as his cheeks are flushed red from the heat; you spy a drop of sweat rolling down his neck and disappearing behind his loose t-shirt.

It's a good sign to start talking.

"Sooo," you start, Jimin turning his head towards you. "Tell me again why you became a math teacher?" you ask, wiping away a drop of sweat before it could roll down your neck.

"Because I like math," Jimin shrugs, pulling on his t-shirt and letting it go repeatedly to fan himself.

You're persistent, not taking a simple reply as an answer. "But why did you decide to teach high schoolers?"

Jimin turns to you fully, looking off into the distance as if he were thinking. "Well, elementary kids are too young to understand the type of math I like, junior high kids get annoying, college kids think they're the shit. High schoolers are perfect, er... or they fit me," Jimin says. "I probably shouldn't say that though. I could offend a whole bunch of people."

You laugh. "I'm not offended; I'm in high school. How'd you get a job so quickly? Aren't you still pretty young?" you continue to ask.

"Well," Jimin pauses. "I don't want to brag or anything, but I'm a math whiz," he says, throwing his head back and grinning at you.

"That was bragging," you mutter under your breath. "Straight up bragging."

Jimin pretends like he didn't hear you. "Any more questions?" Jimin asks sarcastically. "Hey, how about this—we take turns. You ask, then I ask."

"What? Why?" you whine. You didn't want to answer questions about your own private life, your plan to keep your distracted had blown up in your face.

"So I can get to know you too," Jimin replies.

"And we have to answer?"

"Yup."

"Okay, fine," you say. "When did you meet Jin?"

"When he came to school," Jimin simply says. "My turn."

"What no!" you whine. "That's a no-brainer answer, even I could've given an answer like that. I meant like around what time?"

"Uh..." Jimin hesitates, seemingly doing the math inside his head. "Well I knew he existed and everything but we didn't become close until around three months ago," Jimin estimates.

"Oh, I see," you say. "Jin doesn't usually bring people home unless they're special."

Jimin smiles, his eyes scrunching up and his soft lips spreading out. You try to look away but the sight is almost addicting.

Stupid Y/N.

"Special aren't I?" Jimin chuckles.

"Don't get too full of yourself," you murmur.

"I won't," Jimin assures you, "now it's my turn. How do you do so well on your math tests all the time? My questions are crazy hard you know, they're designed to trick and challenge."

You scoff, shaking your head disapprovingly. "What a nice teacher. But I tend to study each topic until I completely understand it. Math is simple logic," you shrug. "If you understand a topic completely, no matter how hard a question is, you'll be able to plow through. Good answer?"

"It's a logical answer," Jimin nods.

"My turn. Why did you decide to go on this trip if you knew I was going too?" you inquire.

"Because Jin invited me," Jimin says, but upon seeing your glare, he expounds, "and I can't refuse a nice beach trip. Besides, we're chill, right?" he says. "I hope. After that talk we went through..."

You quickly nod your head. "Yes, whatever, we're chill."

Jimin laughs. "How long have you been living with Jin?"

"Uh... Lemme see. Six, seven years?"

"Why do you live with your cousin?"

"Hey!" you say. "That's two questions."

"Oops," Jimin chuckles. "You go, then."

"Were you a nerd when you were in high school?"

"Is that even a question?" Jimin laughs. "Yes, I guess so. I tried really hard in school."

You nod. "Not surprised."

"Okay, so, why do you live with your cousin?"

Your face falls a bit. "It's kinda complicated," you say. "And lengthy."

"We have time," Jimin says, leaning back.

"Nah, I prefer to skip the question," you say. "We each get one skip," you dictate.

"Yes ma'am," Jimin jokes, saluting you.

You roll your eyes, then grinning evilly. "So, do you usually kiss people when you're drunk?" you ask as innocently as you can.

"Skip!" Jimin exclaims. "Once again, not appropriate!"

"Oh, c'mon, I'm generally curious!"

Jimin shakes his head. "I'm not answering that, Y/N."

"It's a yes or no question," you say.

Jimin laughs. "Still not gonna say a word."

"Fine then," you say. "Do I get another qu—"

"Y/N, you little hog!" Jin screeches from a short distance. You see your raging cousin, face red and blotchy as he clutches onto bundles of what looked like... food. "When I get my hands on you!" your cousin screams.

You look at Jimin frantically. "Should I run?" you ask.

"And risk being killed two times over? Your choice," Jimin answers, laughing.

"Y/N! Just because you're seventeen years old doesn't mean you can just run off whenever without saying anything!" Jin scolds as you sigh. "You could've fallen off the cliff and died! No one could've saved you!"

"I remember I clearly told you that I was gonna race you," you say defiantly, crossing your arms over your chest. "Besides, I'm careful."

Jin groans in frustration. "Are you asking me to ground you?"

Jimin chuckles on the side causing Jin to whirl around, glaring at his friend. "Doesn't Y/N always stay at home? Would it make any difference to ground her?" Jimin says, raising his eyebrows.

Jin sighs, shaking his head and turning to face you again. "Guess you've got a good point, my dude. But Y/N, I'm serious. You're the only family I have and I don't want to lose you. You have to be careful."

"Well you're the only family I have too," you say, rubbing your arm guiltily. "And I am careful!"

"Then can you explain to me why you're sunburned out of this world and why your leg is bleeding?" Jin says.

"Oh," you answer, only realizing the stinging pain of your sunburn and the cut on your leg.

Jimin chuckles from the back again. "Jin, you're literally like her mom."

Jin rolls his eyes. "Y/N, put on that aloe cream. Luckily, I knew you'd get sunburned somehow someway. Lemme get the first aid kit for your cut. God, Y/N, you are so not careful."

"Sorry, mom," you say. "But says the one who drinks and gets wacky."

Lucky for you, Jin doesn't hear as he rummages around Jimin's spacious car for a first aid kit.

You giggle under your breath as you watch Jin who was grumbling about, still searching for some antiseptic and a band-aid. You smile. Your cousin was the mother you've never really had.

Your leg bandaged protectively and your hands full of two jars of Jin's homemade aloe cream, you attempt to clap along with the audience, the jars clinking in response. Your eyes lit up as you watch a spectacular dance performance.

The vibrant colors of the costumes, the dance steps, the partner work were all so beautiful. Just an hour before when Jin had forced you to come to this show and dinner place, you had been quite skeptical, due to your detest of crowded places. But all of that had been replaced with admiration and enjoyment.

As another beautiful dance finished up, you take that moment to look over at your company who look as equally amazed as you are. Jin's clutching on a chicken leg, mouth half-open as he chews absentmindedly, eyes glued to the stage. Jimin's forgotten his food as his full attention is on the beautiful figures moving their bodies gracefully to the beat of the music.

You smile.

"Thank you!" one of the dancers says breathily, holding the microphone with both hands. He grins at the audience. "I think that's enough dancing for us tonight!" he exclaims, pointing to his fellow dancer friends behind him. "But maybe the crowd can have some fun now!"

A loud cheer erupts from the pleased crowd as people start to stand up, already getting ready to dance their hearts out on the beautifully lit stage.

The dancer with the mic laughs. "We'll clear the stage and then it'll all be yours. Cue the music!"

Bright, bubbly music rings from the large speakers as people follow the music up to the stage. And they dance.

You watch as Jin finishes the last of his chicken leg and turns to you and Jimin. "Wanna dance?"

"Oh yes," Jimin says, his eyes sparkling in excitement.

"Oh no," you say. "I like watching dancing, but not doing it."

Jin rolls his eyes. "You can watch yourself dancing then."

Without another word of argument Jin drags you on the stage, Jimin close by. The stage is way too crowded for your liking and the once happy-sounding music sounds like some kind of buffalo rampage.

But when Jin starts to dance, you can't help but forget all the uncomfortableness, that being replaced by laughter. Boy did Jin dance funny.

"You're doing great, Jinnie!" Jimin screams over the music as he busts out some moves himself.

Your eyes widen in shock as you see the way your teacher moves. He's graceful, his body moving smoothly with the music—as if the music was controlling his body—or no, as if his body was controlling the music.

"Y/N! Dance with me!" Jin yells in your ear as he takes both your hands and spins you around goofily.

"God, Jin, slow down!" you shriek as Jin moves your arms around to the beat of the music like you were his puppet. You're afraid you look like a dancing ragged doll at the moment.

But after a while, the worries go away and they're replaced with enthusiasm and joy.

"Whoo!" you scream as you dance like a madwoman. You're pretty sure Jin's already tired, he's lagging behind you, his limbs moving slower than before.

And just as expected, only several minutes later, you feel Jin grasp your shoulder. "Hey, Y/N!" he yells over the music. "I'm gonna go down and sit. I shouldn't be moving around so much after all that chicken I ate!" Then, your cousin turns to Jimin. "You better take care of her while I'm gone!"

You see Jimin nod out of the corner of your eye as you continue to dance your heart out.

But almost as soon as Jin leaves the stage, the bouncing music halts and other than you, twenty other people groan in complaint.

"C'mon! Mid-song? Really?" you whine, throwing up your arms, others around you causing a bigger tantrum.

Jimin quickly comes over to you, softly placing a protective hand on the small of your back. Your cheeks heat up slightly but then you remember Jin had practically ordered Jimin to take care of you. Your teacher doesn't take his hand off of your back and you think it's so you'd stay together if some kind of mob madness were to break out. But the madness never comes. Instead, the music turns back on—except it's slow and romantic.

Ohhhh no.

"Grab a partner everyone! It's time for some loOove!" a dancer announces into the mic. And as quick as lightning half the people on the stage left while the other half stays behind to find partners. You want to leave.

"Uh, Jimin, I think I'm just gonna leave now," you say as Jimin nods, leading the way out of the sea of moving people, his warm hand still placed on your back, guiding you. But as you were about to take another step forward, some large, buff guy walks right in front of you, blocking your path.

"Dance with me," he laughs, scratching his messy beard. You swear you see old pizza scraps in that thing. "C'mon, pretty lady," he coos, grinning as you spot pieces of lettuce and beef stuck between his teeth.

Shrinking back and trying to find the best way to nicely reject this man, you bump into someone's chest. Looking up, you see Jimin who enlaces his arm around you.

"Sorry, dude, she's with me," he says.

At this moment, you're so thankful for your teacher you could buy him a whole five-star meal.

"All the pretty ones are always taken," Beard Man sighs. He suddenly leans into you, causing you to act on instinct, gripping Jimin's hand for safety. You don't care if Jimin is your teacher at this point, you're too scared of this creepy guy to care. "If you change your mind about your protective lil boyfriend, I'm always here."

"No, I think I'll stay with my boyfriend, thank you," you say, squeezing Jimin's hand while shaking just slightly. Beard Man was hella intimidating, you had to admit. "Go find prettier ladies to hit on."

Before you can insult Beard Man even more, Jimin takes you by the hand, placing a hand on your waist and starting to move slowly to the romantic beat of the song. Quickly catching on that your teacher wanted you to dance away from Beard Man, you wrap your arms around your his neck as you let him guide you through a series of dance steps.

You don't dare to look up until several minutes later. You're happy to see Beard Man is gone, probably bothering some other poor, unfortunate girls. You relax your tense arms, still keeping them secured around your teacher's neck.

"I don't know why but that guy scared the living shit out of me," you confess, chuckling slightly. "Thanks for saving me, by the way."

"No problem. He was on something," Jimin answers, twirling you around slowly to the music.

"He had a plan?" you ask innocently as your teacher catches your waist and brings you back close to his arms.

"You're kidding, right?" Jimin says. "He was on drugs."

"Huh?" Your eyes open in shock. "Is that what that nasty smell was? I thought it was the rotting food in his beard."

Jimin nods. "And his eyes were all red too." Jimin shakes his head then smiles.

"Well, don't tell Jin about this," you say. "He'd try to murder the guy if he hears. And plus he probably won't even let me out of the house again because 'it's for your safety,' " you quote in a mocking voice. "I don't want my only friend to go to jail."

Your teacher raises his eyebrows. "Don't tell Jin? What makes you think I'd listen to you?" he teases lightly.

Offended, you scoff. "Because...?" You really don't have a reason.

Jimin laughs. "I'm just kidding, Y/N, I won't tell Jin, you can trust me."

You glare at your teacher as he innocently smiles at you, still leading you through the slow dance.

From afar you can see Jin, smiling from your table as he holds up his phone. He sure hella looks like he's recording you and Jimin dancing.

Wait a minute. Since when was I dancing with my fucking teacher?!

Quickly, you pull away from Jimin, face blushing red. Why didn't you feel weird while dancing with him? Why did it only occur to you now that this was... awkward? Weird? Illegal???

Jimin stares at you curiously as you look away in an attempt to hide your flushed face. "Are you tired? Do you want to go back?"

You nod your head. "Yeah, I think I need more food," you say, rubbing your belly convincingly.

Your teacher laughs. "I think you always need more food."

"You know me well, Jimin."

"Are you sure you don't wanna come in?" Jin asks, putting an arm around you as you both sink into the hot tub.

"I'm a bit busy, sorry," Jimin says as he flips his hair back, giving your cousin a sorry smile.

"I can't believe you brought work stuff on a vacation," Jin sighs as he flicks water at your teacher.

"Hey! Stop it!" Jimin cries as he swats the water away from his papers. "I'm grading quizzes!"

You perk up. "Did you grade mine yet?"

"Yes," Jimin says as he goes back to looking at his quizzes, marking a question wrong every so often (often as in every second).

"So?" you ask. "Did I do well?"

"Is that even a question Y/N?" Jimin laughs as his rings clink together when he turns to you. "You always do well so what's the surprise there?"

Jin smiles, patting your head. "That's my girl," he says. "You got your smarts from me."

You make a silly face. "I did? That'd be pretty unfortunate," you say as Jin splashes water at you. "Hey!" you yell. "You're lucky that dirty water didn't get in my mouth! Or else you would've been dead!"

Jimin chuckles. "Ah, god, you guys are making it too hard for me to keep working." He sighs as he sets off his quizzes to the side. "I'm coming in."

Your teacher starts to walk towards the hot tub as you quickly hide behind your cousin for your modesty; you were wearing that yellow bikini. You sneak a peek as Jimin throws off his t-shirt to the side and carefully climbs in the tub.

Hard abs... what the fuck Y/N. Stop!

"Ah," Jimin sighs as he glides into the tub. "I should've done this from the start."

"That's what I've been telling you, dude," Jin says. "And Y/N, stop clinging onto me like a monkey!"

"Will you stop comparing me with animals? First a hog and now a monkey!" you screech.

"You just sounded like a bird," Jimin laughs as he gives you a knowing look.

"What the hell?" you shout as you throw up your hands. "You guys are so mean to me!"

"You know I love you, Y/N," Jin says as he tugs you in for a hug, kissing the top of your head.

"I would say the same thing, but it wouldn't sound right," Jimin shrugs as he chuckles, watching you and your cousin hug it out.

"Yeah, no kidding," you mutter under your breath as Jin laughs heartily.

"Anyone up for some ice cream?" Jin asks as he starts to stand up from the tub. You try to tug him back down because he was your only shield covering your body from your teacher.

"Sure," Jimin says, leaning back. "Y/N? Ice cream?"

You sigh. "Ugh, okay. Hurry up, though, thanks."

"What an ungrateful brat," Jin teases you, pinching your cheeks. He flings his t-shirt over to you as he leaves. "Wear that if you're uncomfortable."

You thankfully pull the shirt over your head and tug it down to cover your whole body. Then, you turn to your teacher, newly assured to have your swimsuit covered up. "So... do you like the trip?" you ask as you settle down.

"So far it's great," Jimin answers as he stretches back. "It's a great break from my job."

"Job addicted much?" you tease, mercilessly.

"More or less," Jimin shrugs. "Or I want to succeed in life, unlike some other people." He gives you a mocking look.

"Excuse me, Jimin, but I have over a hundred in half of my classes," you say proudly. "I think I'll succeed."

"What a smartass," he chuckles, flicking water at you. "Teachers should stop having extra credit opportunities."

You huff, splashing your teacher with water, specifically aiming for his hair.

"Hey!" he shouts. "Not the hair!"

"Yes, especially the hair!" you shout back as you splash him with water again.

"Oh, it's on Y/N," Jimin yells as he sends you a huge wave of water that hits you smack in the face.

"Oh you lil—"

"Careful, Y/N, I'm still your teacher," Jimin teases as he flicks water at you again.

"Careful, Jimin, you still harassed me,” you tease right back.

"Harassed?" Jin asks as he slips into the hot tub with two buckets of ice cream. "What's that about?"

You and Jimin both jump, not hearing Jin walking in.

"Harassed? Who said anything about harassed?" you quickly say out of panic. But you're basically the worst liar in the history of worst liars.

"I literally... heard you," Jin says suspiciously.

Jimin sighs. "I was harassing her," he pauses as your eyes widen and your heart drops, "with water." You lean back and sigh in relief.

Jin takes a look at Jimin's soaked hair and your soaked face. "You two..." he sighs, mock-shaking his head. "Whatever. Have some ice cream, dorks."

Your trip to the beach with your teacher and your cousin wasn't as bad as you thought it would be. In fact, you thought it had been eventful and fun. To your surprise, you and Jimin had been able to get along quite smoothly despite your rough or er... heated start. By the end of the trip, both of you had basically made a joke out of the drunk make-out session, as if it weren't much of a deal anymore.

Still, you didn't know if you'd roll so smoothly in school.

When you walk into your math class, you glance at Jimin but look away quickly before he sees you. Sliding into your seat and taking out your pencil case, you keep your head low and watch the feet of your classmates scurry on into class.

As soon as the bell rings, you see from out of the corner of your eye, Jimin standing up. "I've graded your quizzes," he announces.

A collection of loud groans echo throughout the classroom.

"Y/N's probably the highest score again," someone whines.

"How'd you guess?" Jimin jokes, handing you your quiz back. And sure enough, a big, fat 100 is circled in the very front. Your quiz looks the same as you turned it in.

You take short glimpses of the other quizzes as your teacher passes them out and shrink back in shock.

There are more red marks than the white paper itself on most of them. Your classmates literally look like all the energy had been drained from them as they clutch their quizzes in shock.

"It was a hard one wasn't it?" Jimin says as he walks to the front of the class.

You're in shock. You thought it wasn't that bad.

"I'll curve the quiz," Jimin says. The whole class cheers as you smile too. That'd make you get over 100% again. "Now all of you can spend the rest of class correcting your quizzes," Jimin announces. "Ask each other for help. I'll be at my desk if you have any questions."

As soon as Jimin turns and walks to his desk, your classmates jump out of their seats and run to the back of the classroom, giggling and shrieking about their quiz scores. You're never a part of this.

Maybe because you don't have anything to correct, but also because you don't fit in—and you don't want to.

You turn over your quiz to hide your score and set it aside. Then, you take out the homework you've already accumulated from your earlier classes; you start to work. About thirty minutes in, you decide to take a small break and lean back, stretching your neck and back.

You look up slightly to see that Jimin was watching you. Cocking your head, you watch as Jimin gives you a small smile. You smile back, nodding your head slightly.

You guess it isn't that awkward. At least... not anymore.

When the bell rings, Jimin stands in front of the classroom door and collects the quizzes. You're always the last one out—mostly because your classmates practically fly out of class as soon as the bell rings.

Jimin takes your quiz off your hands and smiles. "Hey, nice job on the quiz," he says. "Have a good lunch, Y/N."

"Thanks," you reply. "You have a good lunch too."

If only he knew you ate alone.

—previous | next

—masterlist

[argylemikewheeler]

pls do something where will’s favorite nickname for mike is baby because it always calms mike down

|| cw: panic attacks ||

They stood on exact opposite ends of the issue: Mike didn’t want anyone to know what Will chose as his loving nickname, and Will only wanted to gush about how much he loved Mike and loved calling him “baby”. Mike refused to feel embarassed about it-- it was a sweet name, and not too corny and not too original that it felt grossly romantic. He refused to feel embarassed for the summer before his senior year, biking to Will’s house-- and experiencing his first panic attack.

The July air was thick; breathing deep felt like trying to suck a tennis ball through a straw. Mike was in a cold sweat, felt chilled even though his palms were burning on his black handlebars and the asphalt made the bottom of his sneakers feel gummy. His chills had started as he turned down Will’s street, his chest tightening and the prospect of seeing Will becoming such an enormous relief-- to fear he wasn’t sure where he was hiding.

He’d left the house after a fight with his parents-- Ted really, but Karen had tried to run defense, but of course couldn’t get a word in edge-wise. They were trying to talk about where Mike wanted to go to college, what he wanted to study, and how he would not be allowed to go anywhere near New York City. It was dangerous. It was infected, Ted had said. It was a no, loud and clear, upsetting Holly in the other room. When she’d started to cry, Mike grabbed his backpack to leave. Ted stood in front of him at the door briefly, crossing his arms and telling Mike what a “bad example” he was for his younger sister. Mike knew his father wasn’t referring to the yelling or flippant attitude.

Now that he’d left the house, Mike felt homeless. He didn’t think he could go back without inciting World War III-- or having to fold to his parents’ wishes before he’d even started his last year of high school. Or maybe he’d have to just pack up and leave for New York anyway, and be banished. What options did he have where did he have to go what could he do what was he supposed to do when no one listening and no one wanted to listen or even help him he was all alone and-

Mike stepped off his bike and started running down Will’s driveway, just to see if his feet still worked. They were starting to get pins and needles, sliding off the pedals and dragging against the ground. Mike wasn’t sure how he was able to run with the humidity, the heat, and his heaving chest, but he’d done a lot more with a lot worse injuries. God, the winter of freshman year was enough--

“Mike?” Will was outside, hanging towels over the clothesline. He lowered his arms slowly, letting them hover at waist-height, as if he’d have to stop Mike from running into him. There must’ve been terror drenching Mike’s face too. “Mike, what’s wrong? What happened?”

“I think I’m gonna die.” Mike panted. He tried to stop, falling into the laundry line and bracing himself on the post. Will grabbed him, feeling his arms and sides. He kept checking his hands, as if they’d come up dripping maroon.

“What happened? What did you see? What’s coming?” He looked back toward the driveway. “Mike? Talk to me.”

“T-Ted. He got all... all in my face about... Fuck, I can’t breathe. I think I’m choking-- I can’t breathe.” Mike yanked on his shirt collar. It was loose already, hanging down by his collarbone.

“You’re okay, Mike. You’re not going to choke. You’re okay-- why don’t we sit down in the shade. The heat probably isn’t help--”

“I can’t feel my feet or my hands. I can’t feel them. I think I’m dying. Will, I’m dying.” Mike had no control over his words, it seemed. The fear of literally dying right there on his boyfriend’s lawn was too overpowering to try and negotiate Will’s treatment plan.

“You aren’t dying.” Will wasn’t angry. He was firm-- he was sure-- but he wasn’t angry. “You aren’t dying, Mike. Try to take a deep breath-- with me, ready?”

Any attempt to breathe slowly on Mike’s part became short, shallow gasps. He started to feel dizzy, his brain getting and losing its weak stream of oxygen repeatedly with every failed breath. Mike closed his eyes and grabbed the wooden laundryline post, trying to splinter it with his fingernails. Will held his face, trying to guide him through just one steady breath.

“You’re okay I’ve got you. I just need you to breathe, Mike. You’re okay, baby.”

Will’s voice was quiet; so soft it slipped through the hard, cracked pounding in Mike’s head. Nothing in it was broken, nothing was breaking. There was still a home for Mike, even just in the sound of Will’s voice. In the words he delicately wrapped around him. The names he’d saved just for their shared moments that no one could dictate.

Mike opened his eyes to try and match Will’s breathing again. “B-B-B-”

"What? What is it? Bad? Break? B-Beat?” Will guessed, looking like he was going to start shaking himself. “Mike--”

“Baby.” Mike managed a choppy exhale. “B-Baby.”

“Yeah. T-That’s you.” Will smiled, crinkles forming by his eyes. “My very tall and capable and strong boyfriend, who is the sweetest boy. And who I just have to call baby.” Mike’s laugh was something like a hiss, but it managed to force his diaphragm to constrict. He inhaled through a wonky, awkward smile.

Behind Will, Mike could clearly see his house: standing firm, windows and curtains open. The sun was practically lifting it off the ground. The sunstreaked patio furniture would be a great seat, for both of them. Nothing had collapsed, no one had gone anywhere. Mike had just left his house after a disagreement with his parents. He wasn’t in the in-between of being loved and rejected. He was still loved-- there and especially here.

“Are you okay now?” Will grabbed Mike’s hands. “Can you feel this? Can you feel my hand?” Mike nodded, easing his breathing down. “See? You’re okay! I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. You’re alive. I’m right here.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

“Baby, it’s okay.” Will eased Mike’s head down to his shoulder, wrapping his arms around Mike. His hands splayed over Mike’s back, despite his shirt being soaked to the skin. He chuckled as Mike groaned another apology. “You’re safe, baby. I’ve got you-- you’ve got this.”

Will was right-- and Mike was finally more than willing to admit it to him. Mike could handle whatever his senior year was deciding to throw his way, but he also had backup. Will always had him-- had his back, his best interest, and his heart. There was nothing to be afraid of.

Not even the barbs Mike knew he’d have to attach to his already thorny attitude he had with his parents. Mike would have to harden, but that didn’t mean he still wasn’t kind inside. He was someone’s... well, he was Will’s “baby”. His sweet and loved and anxious and awkward boyfriend. And Mike wasn’t ashamed of it-- he wasn’t. He refused. He loved it.

[crimsonbluemoon]

kriity 10 for the kiss prompt thing?

I literally make John so Meta in all of my stories. I have no regrets. 

Number: 10 Prompt: desperate kisses following an accident or dangerous situationPairing: Krii7y

The roadtrip had been going well, in John’s opinion. Basically, it was moving the way he had expected it to from his research on Tumblr and AO3. Smiity had sprung the trip on him after a bad break-up (classic trope), and both had danced around their feelings while travelling the back roads of Canada. There were people who thought they were dating (which in their defense, Smiity had held his hand at the restaurant). Then there was the bar where John did not get jealous of the bartender flirting with Smiity. And of course, the mix up on bedrooms where the two had to share a bed for a night. ‘Boners and Blushes’ could have been their story title, if John was into alliteration.

The sexual tension was nice, though a little lackluster in comparison to the stories. Where was the need to strip naked for warmth? Wasn’t Smiity clumsy enough to need John to patch up a wound on his thigh and ravish him afterwards? Why did all of their bathroom doors have locks so they didn’t walk in on each other showering? And how come none of their adventures ended with a surprise rainstorm that made their clothes cling to their bodies? That shit was always in roadtrip fanfiction, and John felt cheated for not getting to see Smiity in a transparent shirt. 

But there road trip had some interesting twists, too.

Like a monster ramming the side of their car into a tree. That was new.  

“Oh my god.” The faint wheeze of fear that sifted in Smiity’s voice made him sound like he was about to faint. Blinking a few times to try and focus his gaze, John stared at the snowy hill the front of the car was now parked into. 

“Was that a moose?”

“We almost died.”

“That thing was way bigger than I thought mooses could get.”

“We literally almost just died, and I never said-” The words sounded familiar, for some reason, but John’s brain was too busy still rolling in his skull to pick up on them. 

“Is it mooses? Moosi? Meese? Smiity, help me out dude, what do you Canucks call-” He turned to face his friend, voice stopping at the first sight of tears. Some had already fallen, rolling down his cheeks and soaking the edges of his jacket. But fresh ones were being produced, and John’s heart sunk in his stomach at the sight. “Shit. Hey, uh, are you hurt? Do I need to go fight that fucker for your honor?” 

“You can’t fight a moose, you idiot.” Smiity’s sob and laugh mixed together in a strange way, but it was better than the pale look of death that had coated his eyes seconds before.

“I will for you. I’d do anything for you, probably. Since I love you and all.” He shrugged after his claim, trying not to draw attention to his bold declaration. Hell, it worked in the stories, and they literally almost got moosed (he wasn’t sure if this was a word, but again, his brain was on dry cycle) to death. Near death experiences always made love confessions work. “So yeah, I’ll fight a pack of Meeses if you want.”

“It’s moose, fuck. I love you too, John, why do I-” Except Smiity couldn’t talk anymore, because he’d yanked John over the middle console and dragged them both into a kiss. Startled, John’s hand clasped over Smiity’s neck, feeling the erratic pulse beat under his palm. He was still spooked, running on adrenaline, and John knew the kiss was something to help ground him. Maybe it was to remind him that they were alive, together, and John was more than okay with sharing this moment with Smiity. So he kissed back quickly, letting their lungs squeeze painfully from lack of air. Oxygen wasn’t important for the moment; they needed to know the other was alive. Smiity’s hands were fisted tightly in John’s hair, yanking him closer each time something creaked in the car. He tried to sooth Smiity’s worries with a thumb down his pulse, letting Smiity take whatever he needed from his lips and tongue. They’d need to call for help, start thinking of hotels in walking distance and how they were going to pay for Smiity’s car being totaled. None of the things they talked about in fanfictions. 

And the kiss they shared? Way better.  

[miraculousbelladonna]

Not Today

Here is the super dark angsty sad thing I wrote on the plane back to America! Born from this prompt I found while scrolling for angst prompts.

There’s a LOT of pain and angst. Hurt with only the teeniest tiniest bit of comfort.

Summary: “You’re in too deep this time.” Ladybug runs a hand over her face, voice shaky. “You’re not going to make it out of this one, Chat.”

“Well,” he manages with a dry laugh. “We always knew it would happen, didn’t we? And let’s be honest, Bug, we both knew it would be me.”

“Yes,” she sighs, eyes glistening with tears as she runs a hand over his hair. “But not today. Not like this. Never like this.”

CW: blood, graphic descriptions of violence, major character death

Let me know if I missed anything else that you guys think should be mentioned. I’m sorry in advance for the pain you’re about to endure.

Hawkmoth’s cane pierces Chat’s chest like a spear, and when he pulls it out it makes a wet, squelching crunch sound, a sound no human body should ever make.

A gaping hole is left behind, in which blood and muscle and splintered bone can be seen, and Chat goes down, hard. He’s on the floor, bleeding, gasping for air, and he doesn’t get up, he can’t, and Ladybug sees red.

This is it.

She throws her yo-yo and it lands unintentionally around Hawkmoth’s neck. (That’s the excuse she gives when someone asks. But she knows her yo-yo never misses its target. She knew she wanted to hurt him as much as he had hurt Chat. More, even. She wanted him to suffer.) She pulls it taut. He falls to his knees. She pulls it tighter still. Tighter.

He falls on his back, flailing. Clawing at his neck. Face turning red and purple with lack of oxygen. She pulls it tighter. She isn’t Marinette. She isn’t Ladybug. She is someone else. She is something else. She is the last line of defense, she’s the only one standing between this man and the city of Paris, the world. She is going to kill this man if it’s the last thing she does. After five minutes without oxygen, brain cells start to die. She can kill him without spilling a drop of his blood, which is much much kinder than he deserves. She pulls the yo-yo even tighter.

“Bug.” She hears Chat calling for her, and it sounds like he’s far away, and it brings her back to herself. She is Ladybug. As much as she wants to, she cannot kill this man. She snatches the brooch off of Hawkmoth. She pulls her yo-yo back.

It’s Gabriel Agreste.

She reminds herself that she is Ladybug. She cannot kill this man. So, she punches him in the face with enough force to knock him out.

She runs to Chat, pulls him up so he’s laying on her lap, calls for her lucky charm and casts the miraculous cure.

The miraculous cure doesn’t work.

Her stomach drops. Her heart crawls up and lodges itself in her throat. This is it.

“You’re in too deep this time.” Ladybug runs a hand over her face, voice shaky. “You’re not going to make it out of this one, Chat.”

“Well,” he manages with a dry laugh. “We always knew it would happen, didn’t we? And let’s be honest, Bug, we both knew it would be me.”

“Yes,” she sighs, eyes glistening with tears as she runs a hand over his hair. “But not today. Not like this. Never like this.”

“Oh, Bug. I love you. I’m sorry I’ll be leaving you alone, but you know this isn’t your fault.” He puts his hand on her face from where he’s laying in her lap. It’s so cold all of a sudden, and he knows it’s just the blood loss, but it also feels like the inevitable, like death itself crawling up on him.

“It was always going to happen this way, but it wasn’t you. It was Hawkmoth. You didn’t do this to me. You didn’t kill me. You saved me. You saved me so many times, in so many ways, and you couldn’t this time, but it is not your fault. It’s ok. You did your best, that's all I could ever ask of you. And there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here. You know that.”

He doesn’t have the strength to hold his hand up anymore. It falls to his side as she holds him and cries. His miraculous is beeping, and they both know once the transformation falls, the magic protecting him will disappear, and he will die.

“Bug. I’m not gonna lie to you. I’m - I’m scared. Tell me something good. Something true.”

“The best and truest thing I know is that I love you, Chaton. You are the best person in my life. My partner, my friend, my confidante, my rock. I love you so much. You are so loved. You will be missed. You will be mourned.”

He lets his eyes slip shut for the last time as he whispers, “I know. I know that now. Thank you.”

She kisses him on the forehead.

His miraculous beeps one final time. The transformation drops. She is holding Adrien Agreste’s dead body in her arms.

The scream that comes out of her reverberates through the entire city, amplified by the magic released by the death of a holder whilst wearing their miraculous. It’s a sound so profoundly human in its rage, its pain, its grief, it gives everyone who hears it chills.

She screams. She screams until her throat tears and she’s spitting blood, and then she keeps screaming. She screams until her vocal chords give up on her. She screams until she physically cannot anymore, and then she cries. It feels like it’s been hours, days, years, but she looks up and realizes it’s only been seconds. She’s in so much pain it felt like time had frozen around her.

The paramedics are waiting to take Adriens body, to take him away from her, and before she realizes what she’s doing she’s up and running down the street with him in her arms, her partner, her first love, her best friend on both sides of the mask, Adrien.

There’s another ambulance at the other end of the street with more paramedics crowded around it, and she’s trapped, trying to figure out how to get out of there without harming Adrien’s body, but then a firefighter comes up to her.

It’s a firefighter she knows. It’s one she trusts. She freezes. He approaches her slowly with his arms out, and he takes Adrien from her. She’s holding herself so tight, her entire body feels like an elastic band about to snap, and the firefighter sees it. He reassures her.

“We’ll take good care of him.”

The paramedics clustered around the ambulance rush in towards the firefighter with a stretcher, bags, cuffs, tubes, machines, so many things, things she couldn’t identify if she were paid to, and everyone is yelling something and there’s just so much blood.

How can one person have so much blood? She read somewhere that the average human body has more than 4 liters of blood in it, but she didn’t realize it was so much. Adrien looks so small, so pale, lifeless, and as someone yells that they can’t find a pulse she’s reminded that he is. Adrien Agreste - Chat Noir - is dead.

She collapses onto the cement and wails as best as her broken throat can manage. She barely manages to make a sound, just a wounded animalistic whine, and it hurts like hell, but she thinks that it’s fitting. It’s fitting that her body is hurting as much as her heart is right now. It’s only fair, especially now that Chat, Adrien, isn’t alive to feel anything anymore, and her hands are still wet with his blood.

Someone picks her up and puts her in the back of the ambulance Adrien is in. She immediately reaches for his hand, the one wearing the miraculous, which is now silver and cold and dimly she thinks, it’s just as dead as Adrien is. It digs into her hand because of how hard she’s holding his.

She’s still crying, still so distraught, still holding Adrien’s hand so tight that her knuckles are white, and the beeping doesn’t register to her.

Her transformation drops. But the beeping continues.

In the next moment everyone is cheering, screaming, the ambulance is shaking with the force of the paramedics jumping in excitement.

It’s the heart monitor.

It’s the heart monitor.

Adrien’s hand twitches in hers.

He’s alive.

He’s alive.

Her voice is wrecked and thick with blood and tears as she leans in close and whispers in his ear, “Not today.”

[bonesaldente]

Caliginous I Darth Maul x Reader

Chapter 3: The Henchwoman

read this on ao3 

read the last chapter here

words: 2700+

-----------

This isn’t off to a great start. Lightsabers are not easy to fight against if you don’t have one yourself; there are few weapons that can hold up against the pure energy that makes up the blade, and those are hard to acquire.

Fortunately for you, the Jedi have visited your home planet of Kessel before and started trouble with your guild. You have never been affected personally, but as a precaution as well as for the simple practicality of it, you modified your sword with parts of a stun baton. If activated, an electric current flows over the blade, strong enough to block an incoming hit with a lightsaber, but not strong enough to cut through a person with near as much ease as one. 

In a fight like this, it’s a purely defensive weapon.

You hold the light durasteel in your hands and activate the switch, preparing yourself for the first hit, which doesn’t leave you waiting for long.

You manage to block the first three strikes at you and try to use his growing proximity to your advantage: As he swings at you for the fourth time, a low attack directed at your legs, you jump up in the air instead of blocking it with your sword and use your now unoccupied left hand to land a punch at his throat, which doesn’t have near as big an effect on him as you hoped, but still gives you enough time to increase the distance between the two of you in an attempt to collect yourself again and somehow gain the upper hand. After all, you have an arsenal of weapons, while he seemingly came with only that lightsaber of his.

In a flash, you draw your blaster and fire at him, but he deflects the shots to the side using the red blade, then comes at you unexpectedly fast, almost supernaturally so. You barely manage to dodge his attack and his saber grazes your wrist, causing you to unintentionally open your hand and… drop your sword, the one thing keeping you alive.

  All throughout your training you have learned one thing above all else: You are never unarmed. The idea then was that, as long as you have your body, you will fight, regardless of whether the opponent was stronger or more heavily armed than you.

So you keep going.

The high speed of the fight doesn’t allow for you to pick up your sword, so you move quickly towards the side to where there is more space, desperately trying to come up with a plan on how you can win against an armed Sith lord without wielding a weapon that can block his attacks.

Quickly, you realize that, here too, you are backing against a wall and the feeling of being trapped slowly but steadily sets in.

Regardless of its uselessness against a lightsaber, you get out a dagger from inside your jacket. Maybe if you manage to get his guard down, you will be able to score a hit. Most importantly, you need to get close to him again; his saber has a longer range than any weapon you carry, so as long as you’re at a distance, he’s got the advantage.

Only, you have no idea how to get close to him without literally being sliced in half.

He’s spinning the deadly weapon in his hand now while walking in your direction with the air of a predator about him, not looking threatened by you in the slightest. You hope he is underestimating you. 

When he slices at you again, you duck under the incoming saber and his arm, rolling over the ground and whipping around while he still has his back turned to you. This is the opening you have been waiting for: Half blinded by staring into his lightsaber for so long, you push your dagger forward and get his side. Trying to get away from him before he can come at you again, you lunge to the empty space spread out before you, but you are caught mid-air by an invisible force.

And slammed into the wall that was previously behind you.

The impact makes you feel like you can hear your bones cracking and knocks the air out of your lungs, and when you try to refill them with oxygen, you can’t. Something is closing around your throat, and despite knowing it must be the force, you instinctively claw at the invisible hands around your airways. 

Over your choking, you can hear the sound of his lightsaber retracting as if he has already won. 

Your mind is clouded by the lack of oxygen, but the wheels are turning while you are searching your brain for a way, any way at all, you can survive this.

That’s when you get an idea.

Clutching the wall you are pressed against as if to use it to support your weight, you slowly move your outstretched arm closer to your body, closer to your belt. 

Your opponent is too preoccupied with choking the life out of you to notice when you remove one of the new circular detonators from your belt. 

‘The oval ones explode on impact, the circular ones have a five-second timer’, you remember the lady in the armory telling you.

You gently toss the detonator with a subtle flick of your wrist, mentally counting down the seconds.

4… The detonator is moving excruciatingly slowly, but it’s tumbling the right way.

3… The Sith has yet to notice the approaching threat.

2… The explosive device gets caught on a loose rock lying in the alley, still lying a few feet away from its target

1… You start to lose feeling in your legs, a numbing sensation washing over your body

  The explosion presses you even deeper into the wall, if that’s possible, but suddenly you are free to breathe again and relief spreads in your chest, despite the almost unbearable heat enveloping you for a second, paired with debris cutting into your skin. 

Your ears are throbbing and your hearing feels muffled when the initial shock subsides, but you feel alive and genuinely hopeful once more.

Your opponent has been thrown back by the explosion, giving you a small chance of escape. You push off the wall and scramble away from him as fast as you can, but the oxygen is only now re-entering your system and your legs are still wobbly.

Still, you are getting closer to a corner. You only need to round it, then he won’t be able to use the force on you, right? As soon as you’ve reached that corner you’ll be safe, you’ll be able to run, to hide-

Your hearing kicks in again and you can hear the Sith getting back on his feet, no doubt following you.

In a desperate attempt to hold him off, you start attacking him with your throwing knives, quickly spinning, throwing, and running again. He is blocking them easily with the force. You remember something you have learned from the same woman that had gotten hold of a Jedi’s lightsaber once: it’s easy for them to block objects with the same mass.

When you turn around the next time, instead of throwing another knife, you shoot at him with your blaster, followed by a knife from your other hand. This seems to throw him off, but it’s hard to tell because you are already turned around and on the run again.

The corner is getting closer, you’re almost there-

An invisible hand is reaching out to you again, this time wrapping around your ankle, and pulls back harshly, making you fall on your face. 

The force pulls you back towards him mercilessly and the only thing you can do is turn around so you can at least face the enemy.

You come to a halt a few feet away from him, but suddenly it is like the force is completely covering your body, restraining all movement and effectively locking you in place. 

You try to fight against it and free your body, but you just end up panting from the effort, not having moved an inch. 

In your peripheral vision, you can see the man now stepping closer to you. He is no longer wearing his hood, it must have been blown back by the explosion, but you can’t see his face properly from your angle, still lying on your back.

What you can see however is that he is stretching his hand out again, ready to have the force close itself around your throat again.

Panic seeps through every inch of your being. This time, there really is no way out.

Unless?

“Wait,” you press out.

“What?” His voice sounds way too calm for having fought you seconds ago, it’s almost insulting.

“I’ve…” you struggle to get the words out against the grip of the force around you.

Almost imperceptibly, the hold on your jaw loosens.

“I’ve changed my mind. I will… work with you”

You hold your breath. There is little to no guarantee he’ll still accept your late change of heart.

“For me”, is all he says.

“What?”

“You will not work with me. You will work for me.”

“Whatever”, you utter, voice strained. You just want him to spare your life and, for maker’s sake, let go of your body. It feels like every single muscle in you is cramping up.

A second goes by and nothing happens, but then he lets go of you at once.

A sigh of relief escapes your mouth before you can help it, and you slowly crawl back on your feet, getting to face him in a more dignified position now.

The man standing in front of you is a zabrak. You haven’t encountered many of them in your life, and certainly none with a complexion as scarlet red as his. His intricate tattoos accentuate his features stunningly, his horns giving him an almost regal appearance. And, maker, he’s young, he can’t be much older than you are.

For one short moment, you just stare at each other, then, without breaking eye contact, his outstretched hand at his side summons your sword from the other end of the alley.

Spinning it so that the handle points in your direction, he extends his arm towards you.

It’s a strangely conciliatory gesture.

You hesitate one second, hand hovering above the handle, then take your weapon back.

Feeling the familiar leather wrapped around the steel calms you and the panic finally wears off as you return the sword to its place in the scabbard on your back.

“Get what you need to bring and meet me in three hours. I will wait for you east, at the edge of the forest.”

You take a deep breath while letting the realization of what you have gotten yourself into hit you.

“I will be there.”

You are about to turn around and leave, and so is he, when a thought pops into your mind.

“You never told me your name.”

Stars, your voice sounds hoarse.

A second of silence ensues.

“Darth Maul.”

Maul. The name is short and tells you little about the person behind it - it’s very fitting. Not, because it’s short, that is, but because of the cloak of secrecy that surrounds the man.

“Darth Maul… You know, if you’d just offered me to join you instead of threatening me, I probably would have said yes.”

He doesn’t respond, instead staring at you before turning around and leaving the alley. 

You close your eyes for a minute when he’s gone, allowing yourself to reflect on what just happened. Your thoughts are spinning, uncertainty nags at you, and there is so much you still need to figure out—

One thing at a time.

First, you need to get to the Concinnity headquarters before they get busy. Training for apprentices starts shortly after sunrise and the first sunbeams are already peeking through the smog. 

You leave the alley and pass by the sign that reads “Felicia’s—music and drinks”. 

Kriffing hellhole. A detonator went off right next to their building and nobody even bothered to check what’s going on. 

“This place is a nightmare,” you mumble to yourself, rubbing your burnt wrist which only now starts to make itself noticed by sending waves of pain through your entire arm. 

  The headquarters are unsurprisingly empty. You made it there before the apprentices get up, so the only ones who would be there are instructors and other contract killers. People you’ve known for most of your life, or rather been in the presence of—many make use of fake names and as a rule, everyone is cryptic; to a fault. They are people you can never see again after this day.

The Concinnity doesn’t allow members to leave the guild. Once they accept you into their rows, you’re in for the rest of your life, taking over instruction as an elder, but never leaving.

You head straight for the weapon chamber. If you’re leaving anyway, you might as well take something with you, that something being the one weapon you’ve always wanted to use but never been allowed to.

The lightsaber is kept behind a separate lock, making it obvious for anyone that it’s not to be removed without explicit permission. You ponder for a moment, then proceed to punch in the first code that comes to your mind.

The lock hisses as it opens, and you quickly grab the silver handle and shove it inside one of your pockets. Your eyes scan the room as you search for anything else that might be useful for your uncertain future with Darth Maul.

Maybe you should feel bad for taking their property, but then again, in these past few years you’ve contributed more than anyone else in the entire guild. For every job you executed, the Concinnity took 10 percent of the pay��allegedly. You have reason to believe they actually took more, seeing as payment always took place through Magnus, so you never really knew what the client paid—only what Magnus told you they paid. So, in a way, you’re taking what should be yours, right?

The only other thing in the room that catches your interest is some macro binoculars. They’re not special, but since you don’t know what’s lying ahead of you, you decide they could be useful.

With your loot, you leave the chamber and exit the underground complex faster than you ever have. It’s hard to believe this will be the last time you set foot in this place. As a child, you considered this your home, though when you grew up, you realized you were only an asset to the guild, no more, no less. Still, everything you know, you’ve learned here. Everything you are, the way you talk, walk, and breathe has been shaped in this place. It’s all you’ve ever known.

  But this chapter of your life is over now, you come to understand. A new future awaits you, a future at the side of a Sith lord. You’ve become part of something bigger, whether you like it or not.

  Your next stop is your apartment. It’s a small, worn down place just around the corner from the entrance to the Concinnity, barely big enough to house one person. Bedroom and kitchen are one room, the only other room being the tiny bathroom, not counting the walk-in closet taking up around half of the cramped space. It’s home to all of your gear, including clothing as well as weaponry. You aren’t home very often so you never came around to investing in a nicer place.

Now you’re glad about that.

It takes less than ten minutes to gather your belongings. They fit into one large bag that you can carry over your shoulder, only bringing the essentials: some hygiene products, a couple changes of clothes, two blasters in addition to the ones still on our person, and finally, the small trinkets you have the frowned-upon habit of collecting. They fit into a small pouch.

On top of everything you place some of the gear you’re in right now, your regular mission attire. In the end, you’re left with only your dagger and a blaster on you, everything else packed up and ready to go.

You don’t bother to take one last look at your apartment the way you did at the Concinnity. This place means very little to you and you don’t mind leaving it behind.

  Checking the time, you see you still have over an hour left. It won’t be enough to get some sleep, which you could really use, but it will be enough to eat something before you need to go.

You decide to pay a visit to the market place. It’s not a very safe place, robberies and muggings taking place almost daily, and worse things happening behind the counters and under the tables.

Still, there’s good food, probably the only redeemable quality of the planet you hesitate to call home.

  When you’re done eating, you decide to finally take off, taking your speeder—technically stolen and not really ‘your speeder’, which makes it all the more easy to abandon it once you are close to the edge of the forest and decide to walk the last bit. 

  Darth Maul doesn’t leave you waiting for long. He emerges from the woods without making a sound, only saying two words.

“Follow me.”

This isn’t off to a great start. Lightsabers are not easy to fight against if you don’t have one yourself; there are few weapons that can hold up against the pure energy that makes up the blade, and those are hard to acquire.

Fortunately for you, the Jedi have visited your home planet of Kessel before and started trouble with your guild. You have never been affected personally, but as a precaution as well as for the simple practicality of it, you modified your sword with parts of a stun baton. If activated, an electric current flows over the blade, strong enough to block an incoming hit with a lightsaber, but not strong enough to cut through a person with near as much ease as one. 

In a fight like this, it’s a purely defensive weapon.

You hold the light durasteel in your hands and activate the switch, preparing yourself for the first hit, which doesn’t leave you waiting for long.

You manage to block the first three strikes at you and try to use his growing proximity to your advantage: As he swings at you for the fourth time, a low attack directed at your legs, you jump up in the air instead of blocking it with your sword and use your now unoccupied left hand to land a punch at his throat, which doesn’t have near as big an effect on him as you hoped, but still gives you enough time to increase the distance between the two of you in an attempt to collect yourself again and somehow gain the upper hand. After all, you have an arsenal of weapons, while he seemingly came with only that lightsaber of his.

In a flash, you draw your blaster and fire at him, but he deflects the shots to the side using the red blade, then comes at you unexpectedly fast, almost supernaturally so. You barely manage to dodge his attack and his saber grazes your wrist, causing you to unintentionally open your hand and… drop your sword, the one thing keeping you alive.

  All throughout your training you have learned one thing above all else: You are never unarmed. The idea then was that, as long as you have your body, you will fight, regardless of whether the opponent was stronger or more heavily armed than you.

So you keep going.

The high speed of the fight doesn’t allow for you to pick up your sword, so you move quickly towards the side to where there is more space, desperately trying to come up with a plan on how you can win against an armed Sith lord without wielding a weapon that can block his attacks.

Quickly, you realize that, here too, you are backing against a wall and the feeling of being trapped slowly but steadily sets in.

Regardless of its uselessness against a lightsaber, you get out a dagger from inside your jacket. Maybe if you manage to get his guard down, you will be able to score a hit. Most importantly, you need to get close to him again; his saber has a longer range than any weapon you carry, so as long as you’re at a distance, he’s got the advantage.

Only, you have no idea how to get close to him without literally being sliced in half.

He’s spinning the deadly weapon in his hand now while walking in your direction with the air of a predator about him, not looking threatened by you in the slightest. You hope he is underestimating you. 

When he slices at you again, you duck under the incoming saber and his arm, rolling over the ground and whipping around while he still has his back turned to you. This is the opening you have been waiting for: Half blinded by staring into his lightsaber for so long, you push your dagger forward and get his side. Trying to get away from him before he can come at you again, you lunge to the empty space spread out before you, but you are caught mid-air by an invisible force.

And slammed into the wall that was previously behind you.

The impact makes you feel like you can hear your bones cracking and knocks the air out of your lungs, and when you try to refill them with oxygen, you can’t. Something is closing around your throat, and despite knowing it must be the force, you instinctively claw at the invisible hands around your airways. 

Over your choking, you can hear the sound of his lightsaber retracting as if he has already won. 

Your mind is clouded by the lack of oxygen, but the wheels are turning while you are searching your brain for a way, any way at all, you can survive this.

That’s when you get an idea.

Clutching the wall you are pressed against as if to use it to support your weight, you slowly move your outstretched arm closer to your body, closer to your belt. 

Your opponent is too preoccupied with choking the life out of you to notice when you remove one of the new circular detonators from your belt. 

‘The oval ones explode on impact, the circular ones have a five-second timer’, you remember the lady in the armory telling you.

You gently toss the detonator with a subtle flick of your wrist, mentally counting down the seconds.

4… The detonator is moving excruciatingly slowly, but it’s tumbling the right way.

3… The Sith has yet to notice the approaching threat.

2… The explosive device gets caught on a loose rock lying in the alley, still lying a few feet away from its target

1… You start to lose feeling in your legs, a numbing sensation washing over your body

  The explosion presses you even deeper into the wall, if that’s possible, but suddenly you are free to breathe again and relief spreads in your chest, despite the almost unbearable heat enveloping you for a second, paired with debris cutting into your skin. 

Your ears are throbbing and your hearing feels muffled when the initial shock subsides, but you feel alive and genuinely hopeful once more.

Your opponent has been thrown back by the explosion, giving you a small chance of escape. You push off the wall and scramble away from him as fast as you can, but the oxygen is only now re-entering your system and your legs are still wobbly.

Still, you are getting closer to a corner. You only need to round it, then he won’t be able to use the force on you, right? As soon as you’ve reached that corner you’ll be safe, you’ll be able to run, to hide-

Your hearing kicks in again and you can hear the Sith getting back on his feet, no doubt following you.

In a desperate attempt to hold him off, you start attacking him with your throwing knives, quickly spinning, throwing, and running again. He is blocking them easily with the force. You remember something you have learned from the same woman that had gotten hold of a Jedi’s lightsaber once: it’s easy for them to block objects with the same mass.

When you turn around the next time, instead of throwing another knife, you shoot at him with your blaster, followed by a knife from your other hand. This seems to throw him off, but it’s hard to tell because you are already turned around and on the run again.

The corner is getting closer, you’re almost there-

An invisible hand is reaching out to you again, this time wrapping around your ankle, and pulls back harshly, making you fall on your face. 

The force pulls you back towards him mercilessly and the only thing you can do is turn around so you can at least face the enemy.

You come to a halt a few feet away from him, but suddenly it is like the force is completely covering your body, restraining all movement and effectively locking you in place. 

You try to fight against it and free your body, but you just end up panting from the effort, not having moved an inch. 

In your peripheral vision, you can see the man now stepping closer to you. He is no longer wearing his hood, it must have been blown back by the explosion, but you can’t see his face properly from your angle, still lying on your back.

What you can see however is that he is stretching his hand out again, ready to have the force close itself around your throat again.

Panic seeps through every inch of your being. This time, there really is no way out.

Unless?

“Wait,” you press out.

“What?” His voice sounds way too calm for having fought you seconds ago, it’s almost insulting.

“I’ve…” you struggle to get the words out against the grip of the force around you.

Almost imperceptibly, the hold on your jaw loosens.

“I’ve changed my mind. I will… work with you”

You hold your breath. There is little to no guarantee he’ll still accept your late change of heart.

“For me”, is all he says.

“What?”

“You will not work with me. You will work for me.”

“Whatever”, you utter, voice strained. You just want him to spare your life and, for maker’s sake, let go of your body. It feels like every single muscle in you is cramping up.

A second goes by and nothing happens, but then he lets go of you at once.

A sigh of relief escapes your mouth before you can help it, and you slowly crawl back on your feet, getting to face him in a more dignified position now.

The man standing in front of you is a zabrak. You haven’t encountered many of them in your life, and certainly none with a complexion as scarlet red as his. His intricate tattoos accentuate his features stunningly, his horns giving him an almost regal appearance. And, maker, he’s young, he can’t be much older than you are.

For one short moment, you just stare at each other, then, without breaking eye contact, his outstretched hand at his side summons your sword from the other end of the alley.

Spinning it so that the handle points in your direction, he extends his arm towards you.

It’s a strangely conciliatory gesture.

You hesitate one second, hand hovering above the handle, then take your weapon back.

Feeling the familiar leather wrapped around the steel calms you and the panic finally wears off as you return the sword to its place in the scabbard on your back.

“Get what you need to bring and meet me in three hours. I will wait for you east, at the edge of the forest.”

You take a deep breath while letting the realization of what you have gotten yourself into hit you.

“I will be there.”

You are about to turn around and leave, and so is he, when a thought pops into your mind.

“You never told me your name.”

Stars, your voice sounds hoarse.

A second of silence ensues.

“Darth Maul.”

Maul. The name is short and tells you little about the person behind it - it’s very fitting. Not, because it’s short, that is, but because of the cloak of secrecy that surrounds the man.

“Darth Maul… You know, if you’d just offered me to join you instead of threatening me, I probably would have said yes.”

He doesn’t respond, instead staring at you before turning around and leaving the alley. 

You close your eyes for a minute when he’s gone, allowing yourself to reflect on what just happened. Your thoughts are spinning, uncertainty nags at you, and there is so much you still need to figure out—

One thing at a time.

First, you need to get to the Concinnity headquarters before they get busy. Training for apprentices starts shortly after sunrise and the first sunbeams are already peeking through the smog. 

You leave the alley and pass by the sign that reads “Felicia’s—music and drinks”. 

Kriffing hellhole. A detonator went off right next to their building and nobody even bothered to check what’s going on. 

“This place is a nightmare,” you mumble to yourself, rubbing your burnt wrist which only now starts to make itself noticed by sending waves of pain through your entire arm. 

  The headquarters are unsurprisingly empty. You made it there before the apprentices get up, so the only ones who would be there are instructors and other contract killers. People you’ve known for most of your life, or rather been in the presence of—many make use of fake names and as a rule, everyone is cryptic; to a fault. They are people you can never see again after this day.

The Concinnity doesn’t allow members to leave the guild. Once they accept you into their rows, you’re in for the rest of your life, taking over instruction as an elder, but never leaving.

You head straight for the weapon chamber. If you’re leaving anyway, you might as well take something with you, that something being the one weapon you’ve always wanted to use but never been allowed to.

The lightsaber is kept behind a separate lock, making it obvious for anyone that it’s not to be removed without explicit permission. You ponder for a moment, then proceed to punch in the first code that comes to your mind.

The lock hisses as it opens, and you quickly grab the silver handle and shove it inside one of your pockets. Your eyes scan the room as you search for anything else that might be useful for your uncertain future with Darth Maul.

Maybe you should feel bad for taking their property, but then again, in these past few years you’ve contributed more than anyone else in the entire guild. For every job you executed, the Concinnity took 10 percent of the pay—allegedly. You have reason to believe they actually took more, seeing as payment always took place through Magnus, so you never really knew what the client paid—only what Magnus told you they paid. So, in a way, you’re taking what should be yours, right?

The only other thing in the room that catches your interest is some macro binoculars. They’re not special, but since you don’t know what’s lying ahead of you, you decide they could be useful.

With your loot, you leave the chamber and exit the underground complex faster than you ever have. It’s hard to believe this will be the last time you set foot in this place. As a child, you considered this your home, though when you grew up, you realized you were only an asset to the guild, no more, no less. Still, everything you know, you’ve learned here. Everything you are, the way you talk, walk, and breathe has been shaped in this place. It’s all you’ve ever known.

  But this chapter of your life is over now, you come to understand. A new future awaits you, a future at the side of a Sith lord. You’ve become part of something bigger, whether you like it or not.

  Your next stop is your apartment. It’s a small, worn down place just around the corner from the entrance to the Concinnity, barely big enough to house one person. Bedroom and kitchen are one room, the only other room being the tiny bathroom, not counting the walk-in closet taking up around half of the cramped space. It’s home to all of your gear, including clothing as well as weaponry. You aren’t home very often so you never came around to investing in a nicer place.

Now you’re glad about that.

It takes less than ten minutes to gather your belongings. They fit into one large bag that you can carry over your shoulder, only bringing the essentials: some hygiene products, a couple changes of clothes, two blasters in addition to the ones still on our person, and finally, the small trinkets you have the frowned-upon habit of collecting. They fit into a small pouch.

On top of everything you place some of the gear you’re in right now, your regular mission attire. In the end, you’re left with only your dagger and a blaster on you, everything else packed up and ready to go.

You don’t bother to take one last look at your apartment the way you did at the Concinnity. This place means very little to you and you don’t mind leaving it behind.

  Checking the time, you see you still have over an hour left. It won’t be enough to get some sleep, which you could really use, but it will be enough to eat something before you need to go.

You decide to pay a visit to the marketplace. It’s not a very safe place, robberies and muggings taking place almost daily, and worse things happening behind the counters and under the tables.

Still, there’s good food, probably the only redeemable quality of the planet you hesitate to call home.

  When you’re done eating, you decide to finally take off, taking your speeder—technically stolen and not really ‘your speeder’, which makes it all the more easy to abandon it once you are close to the edge of the forest and decide to walk the last bit. 

  Darth Maul doesn’t leave you waiting for long. He emerges from the woods without making a sound, only saying two words.

“Follow me.”

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next chapter

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A/N: That was chapter 3, hope you guys liked it, feedback is always appreciated :)

@princessayveke

[elisaphoenix13]

How To Make Tony Pass Out

AC/DC blared throughout the lab as Tony waited for the results of his current idea. Specifically if there was a way to transfer Peter's healing factor and enhanced strength to someone like him. Peter was a mutant super human, Stephen had his magic and martial arts...but Tony? He just had his brain and his suits. Take the suit away and what was he?

A billionaire with a smart mouth that got him into more trouble than out of it.

So he figured he could try and see if he could pick and choose from Peter's abilities and transfer them to himself. He would leave the sticking to walls to his son.

The music suddenly stops, which Tony found odd because FRIDAY usually just lowered the volume enough so that Tony could hear the test results. Depending on the results, he would think of something else to try out or work on and have her turn the music back up.

"Hey FRI? What happened to the music?" Tony asks as he blindly grabs a wrench off the table beside him, his front half buried in the hood of his most recent restoration project. His Iron Man suits (and his husband's and son's as well) weren't his only hobby. No, he had taken to restoring cars again. It required more physical exertion than the suits gave him and he kind of missed the glee he felt when he finally got an engine to purr.

"There's...something you need to see boss." The AI says slowly.

"More important than those test results?" The engineer backs away from the car and grabs a towel to wipe his hands on as he approaches the holographic screen FRIDAY had brought up.

"Much."

"What am I looking at?"

"As I was running tests, I was noticing some similarities. So I ran a separate test."

Tony raises an eyebrow. "Okay? Is there a point to all this or are you going to continue to beat around the bush and leave me guessing?"

FRIDAY sighs. Actually sighs when her separate test results pop up on the screen. "I ran a DNA rest."

Tony glances over the results until he catches sight of who his AI had done the test on.

Paternity Test 

Tony Stark to Peter Parker 

Probability: 99.9998%

The panic came on like a freight train. He stopped breathing. He got tunnel vision so all he saw were those numbers. One thought on repeat as black spots covered his vision from the lack of oxygen.

Peter is mine.

"TONY!" The engineer finally gasps, giving his brain and body the oxygen they desperately need, and he opens his eyes to find himself looking up into frantic blue eyes.

Up? He didn't even remember closing his eyes. Now that his brain had enough oxygen to focus, he noticed that he was lying on the floor. So he must have passed out. How very Tony Stark of him. His reaction to finding out the teenager he adopted was biologically his was to pass out and...

...there goes the panic again. Tony wheezes and gasps for breath as his chest tightens and Stephen uses his free hand to grab the the billioanire's and place it against his chest. The sorcerer's other hand was underneath Tony's head and he only knew that because he had felt it before the second attack came on.

"Deep breathes love." Tony, with the other man's help, get his breathing back under control, and then slowly sits up. "What happened? FRIDAY told me you passed out."

"Peter." The engineer whispers. "He's...he still has family. He has a living relative."

Now Stephen was the one who had panic in his expression. "Whoever it is...they can't take him away from us. Not unless he wants to go and I'm fairly positive he likes being here."

The sorcerer's panicked expression turned confused when Tony chuckles madly. The engineer moves to his feet, using Stephen's shoulders as support, and leans against the desk to pull up the earlier hologram that FRIDAY must have minimized after Tony passed out.

"You don't understand." Tony starts, and Stephen joins him at the desk when his husband points at the transparent screen. "His living relative? It's me."

Stephen stares at the screen in deafening silence and Tony's next words die in his mouth when a pained expression crosses the man's features. Did Stephen already know? No, that was doubtful. He made jokes about Tony and Peter having the same nose or anything miniscule like that, but that's all they were. Jokes. Now there was evidence that Peter was actually biologically Tony's.

And that's when it clicked.

Peter was Tony's...not Stephen's. The teen was equally both of theirs because they didn't share blood with him, but now it turned out not to be true. Tony shared blood. Stephen did not.

Mama Bear was feeling insecure.

"Stephen..." Tony's panic was gone right now. At least the panic about the news with Peter. The panic he had now was over the emotional turmoil on the sorcerer's face. "This doesn't change anything--"

"It does Tony. I don't know why, but it does." Stephen says as he covers his face.

"It doesn't!" The engineer yells. "So he's mine! So fucking what?! He's as much yours as he is mine!"

"How can you say that?" Stephen whispers.

"Because I didn't get to be there for all of his firsts! Words, steps, school days...as far as I'm concerned I still only have one more year with him than you do. Wehave him now. I can guarantee you that if we tell him about this...you will still be mom."

Stephen pulls his hand away from his face. "If? Peter deserves to know."

"Yeah, he deserves to know, but he doesn't need to." Tony says. "Either way, I'm Dad. You're Mom. End of story. What does it matter that we share blood?"

"Because he's not mine too!" Stephen shouts.

There it was. The insecurity out in the open.

"A year and a half ago, I was a neurosurgeon. All I cared about was my reputation. I didn't care about settling down. I had one friend. Then I got into the accident. In desperation I looked for a way to fix my hands outside western medicine and came across the mystic artes. I studied it...became a master...then became the guardian for the New York Sanctum." Tony remains silent as the man rambles. "I thought I found a new purpose in life, then you waltzed right into it. Turned my life upside down, and made me fall in love with you when I saw how much you cared about your friends. I saw how you always thought of them first before yourself, but you cleverly covered it up by making it look like you were doing it for yourself."

Tony again refused to say anything because he didn't want to ruin this. Stephen had cracked. He was opening up and doing it in more than a sentence.

"Then one day, I come to the tower and Peter is there. I hated kids. I almost turned around and left, but he saw me."

Tony smiles at the memory and finally spoke. "I told him who you were before that...and he asked you about neurology."

Stephen huffs. "That's what started it. After that, I don't know...but he grew on me. Most teenagers are inconsiderate and disrespectful, but not him. He wears his heart on his sleeve." The sorcerer rubs his face. "He didn't bother me. I liked him. Then out of nowhere, I start worrying about him. Is he eating enough? Is he sleeping? It was literally like taking care of another you--are you laughing?!"

Tony was. In his defense, he was trying to stifle it, but he did that poorly.

"I'm sorry...but do you hear yourself?" Tony asks with a snicker.

"Forget it. You're not taking me seriously."

"That's the thing babe...I am." The engineer reaches out and carefully takes one of the sorcerer's hands. His left, to twist the ring he had put there not too long ago. "Throughout that entire rant of yours...do you know what I heard?"

"Tony..."

"You were a parent long before Peter gave you that title...and he only did because you put yourself there. He didn't call you Dad. Or his uncle, or anything like that. He called you Mom. Peter and I might share blood but no one could ever replace you. I've seen him with his Aunt May, but you? He has a bond with you that rivals the one he had with her. Honestly, I should be the one who should be jealous. He's literally my kid and he clings to you! Dad just has all the expensive toys."

Stephen chuckles and it brings a smile to Tony's face as he brings the younger man into a kiss. "You're certain it won't change anything?"

"Peter might mentally implode like I did, but there's no chance he's letting you go anywhere. If you try, he'll hunt you down or die trying."

"Mentally implode about what?"

Stephen and Tony stiffen before turning to find Peter at the elevator. Thankfully he only seemed to have overheard Tony's last words, so when they stayed silent, he shrugs to himself before hopping over to the car that the engineer had been working on. The couple didn't even have time to say anything to him before he was leaning into the hood of the car and clanging away.

"Hey Pete...wait a minute before you get too occupied with that." Tony calls to him.

The teen leans away from the car and wipes at the oil smudge he already managed to get on his face. "Yeah Dad?"

Tony had to fight off another panic attack because now that word meant so much more. "Serious subject kid. Come here." The billionaire swallows the forming lump in his throat when Peter frowns, but he sets down the wrench he had grabbed just seconds ago to join his parents.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No...apparently I did though." Stephen slaps the back of his head. "Not that it's wrong! I mean, it worked out for me in the end. Not the best beginning..." Tony trails off when his son gives him a weird look. "I'm rambling. It will be easier to show you."

With that said, Stephen and Tony move away from the screen showing the paternity test results, and the engineer sighs heavily as he motions toward the hologram. He didn't know how Peter would react. Happy? Upset? Mad? Hell, he wouldn't be surprised if it was all three with some indifference mixed in. This was one of those situations where that would work somehow.

Peter just stared though. At least at first. His confusion turned into disbelief, then skepticism, then after a few more emotions he put on the best damn poker face Tony had ever seen. That didn't bode well for him.

"...Peter?" The engineer says quietly.

"Is this...is this real?" The teen asks numbly.

"If it isn't, then FRIDAY gave me a few panic attacks for no reason."

Peter took that a little out of context though. "You're upset about this?"

"What?! No kid! I just wasn't expecting it and I literally found out an hour ago that you actually are mine! I'm expecting you to be upset!"

"...would you have wanted me?" Peter whispers and Tony gapes for a few moments.

"I...I wasn't in the greatest place back then so I'm not sure." The teen looks away with threatening tears but Tony pulls his face back toward his. "I think I would have though. After a positive test like this to make sure it wasn't some woman trying to get my money, I would have cleaned up my act and taken care of you. Especially if I knew what a great kid you would turn out to be."

Tony had barely finished his sentence when he found himself with an armful of a sniffling teenager. Stephen had taken that as his cue to leave and give them time alone, but he was halfway around them when he felt a tug on his belt loop and he was pulled back toward the two. The sorcerer looks down in surprise and discovered that the fingers grasping tightly to his pants belonged to Peter. Tony gives him a knowing look when the teen pulls him into the hug, and then grins up at him.

"I don't really remember my mom...so you've been the mom I never had. This hug, this family, wouldn't be complete without you." 

A single tear rolls down Stephen's cheek as he returns the hug and Tony kisses his cheek. "I told you. This changes nothing."

Stephen's upper lip twitches. "Peter...there's one thing your father failed to tell you." Tony's eyes widen while Peter looks at him curiously. "He passed out when he saw the results."

The teen guffaws loudly and then yelps in surprise when his father pushes Stephen away and tosses the teen over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"This calls for a celebration of all you can eat ice cream, binge watching movies, and suffocating cuddles on the couch. Mom can go buy the ice cream."

Stephen rolls his eyes. "What flavors?"

"Stark Raving Hazelnuts." Tony says immediately.

"I wasn't asking you. I was asking my cub."

Peter grins, using Tony's back as support to look up at the doctor. "Rocky Road and Cookie Dough!"

"You know kid, you're a lot lighter than you look." Tony says as he walks over to the elevator and Stephen makes a portal before disappearing through it. When the doors close and the engineer asks FRIDAY to take them up to the penthouse, he loosens his grip on the boy when he attaches himself to the wall of the elevator. "He's jealous you know."

Peter tilts his head. "About what?"

Tony folds his arms. "The fact that you're actually, biologically mine. He wants that too."

"...he's my Mama Bear. No one can take that from him."

"You might want to increase cuddle sessions for a little while just in case."

Peter laughs. "I can do that. He gives the best hugs anyway."

Tony gasps dramatically and with mock offense. "What am I? Chopped liver?"

"You let me blow things up." The teen supplies with a grin.

"How could I forget that?" Tony asks with a hint of sarcasm as they exit the elevator and he points to the floor when Peter follows on the ceiling. "On the floor Boy Wonder."

"Can't. The floor is lava."

Tony looks up at the teen with a raised eyebrow and sighs in defeat when Peter smiles down at him. "Well the couch isn't so plant it."

"Yes, Dad."

Tony smiles.

[kariachi]

Red Sea Body Plans

We’ve gone over the single-celled life from which everything else on Osmos V arose, so now it’s time to get into multicellular lifeforms. It’s here where things are going to get a little basic, purely because I don’t have the time, energy, or inclination to make up a dozen or so body plans per sea. Instead, we’re going to be building two or three base body plans each for both major forms of symmetry (radial and bilateral) for both haplicytes and lampicytes, and using them as the basis for life moving forward.

This is where the haplicytes are really going to split for us into specialized autotrophs and specialized heterotrophs. The autotrophs, which will become out Red Sea originating plants, will be dealt with at another time. Here we’ll be dealing with our heterotrophs, our animals.

We’ll call the autotrophs chlorocytes from here on out, and the heterotrophs phagocytes.

The things to keep in mind when designing any basic body plan are feeding, defense, respiration, and reproduction. We’ll be keeping all these in mind as we go forward.

Radial Symmetry

To start off with we’re going to focus on our radially symmetrical body plans. Radial symmetry is when creature can be split into multiple identical parts in a circle around a central point. These creatures are often slow moving, if not entirely sedentary, and we’re going to have to take that into account.

We’ll do two of these here, one sessile and one mobile, to start us off.

Sessile first. The first thing we know about this creature is that we’re going to have to work out a way for it to catch it’s food, as it can’t go hunting. The way most species in this predicament do it is through tentacles or fronds, with which they either catch passing animals or detritus floating along the currents. We’ll go with fronds to start with, say an even dozen, as it’ll make catching detritus easier and that’s probably where such a creature will start off. We can even give them external digestion, so they don’t yet have to worry about a stomach. As they don’t do much moving, respiration isn’t as much of a concern, so they can probably make due with using pores in their skins to diffuse oxygen in the water into their systems.

Reproduction will be more of an issue though. Nature tends towards sexual reproduction, which allows for greater genetic diversity and security for a species, but that’s difficult when you’re sessile. Can’t exactly hit up the club, ya know? Some sessile species handle it through pollination, others through spore distribution. In the water something like the latter is most common, referred to as ‘broadcast spawning’. We’ll be going with that, but to make it more interesting we’re going to make this a three sex species, all capable of making ’eggs’ and fertilizing them. We’ll make it a circular system, where Sex A+Sex B=Sex C, Sex C+Sex B=Sex A, and so on. They’ll broadcast their spawn, eggs will be fertilized, and the young will float around on the currents as zooplankton until they become large enough to settle in and attach to the sea floor. Their main defense at this stage will just be a pure numbers game.

As for the adults’ defense, toxicity is an option, but the scaly-footed snail has my interest recently and this Osmos V has a large amount of metals, so I think we’ll go with protective ‘shell’ around the base of our vaguely anemone-ish friend into which it can retract it’s fronds. We’ll make this shelter out of iron sulfide, just like the snail, which should give it oranges and blacks as coloration. To know when they have to retract, they’ll need some form of sensory input, so we’ll give them primitive eyes running along the fronds. That way they can see danger before it reaches them to retract to safety.

We’ll call these little guys siderpodes, or ‘iron foots’.

Which brings us to the mobile ones. These guys are gonna be able to track down dinner, rather than just having it come to them, but they’re still going to have to focus on slow moving or immobile food. Their mouths will most likely be located at their center, with a stomach attached, and with things like this are typically on the underside. We’ll make them omnivores, occasional scavengers, that feed on the chlorocytes, siderpodes, and other slow moving or immobile animals. They’re need to be able to track down their food, so we’ll give them rudimentary eyes as well, and thin tendrils they can use as early smell receptors. We’ll put these at the end of, say, seven thick arms, sort’ve like a starfish. They’ll breathe same as the siderpodes, and for defense will instead go with a chitin-like scale armor, to preserve mobility and maximize speed. (After all, if dinner moves at 0.0003 mph you don’t wanna be stuck moving at 0.00024)

For reproduction, we’ll still go with broadcast spawning for now, with the young joining those of the siderpodes as zooplankton. And actually, I think we’ll keep the three sex system, not just for these guys but as a Red Sea trait.

These guys will be the ozasters, meaning ‘smelling star’.

Bilateral Symmetry

Bilateral symmetry is the contrast to radial symmetry. We’re an example- species that can be divided into two symmetrical halves, generally with a notable front and back, with the front often but not always being where brains and sensory organs go. They’re the more motile of the two types of body plan, for the most part, and have higher respiratory needs. These guys will all have some form of circulatory system, generally a free-wheeling ‘blood everywhere’ system, and a form of respiratory system to go with it.

We’re gonna try to make two of these guys too, and they’re going to be the rulers of the open sea, at least the Red Sea.

The first thing we’re going to make is a segmented swimmer, because as near as I can tell they were quite literally everywhere in early evolution. Apparently you couldn’t put on a pair of socks without crushing something exhibiting distinct segmentation. We’ll give it a long, thin body, to minimize drag, with rudder-like fins along it’s sides, four to a segment. eight segments in total. It’ll primarily eat plankton, and to that end we’ll probably give it four little, almost feathery digits at the front to catch them in, then it can eat the plankton off them. This wouldn’t necessitate much sensory input, but I’ve got a plan for a predator for them so eyes will be handy. We’ll give it six, three along each side. These, along with the speed granted by it’s shape and fins, will serve as it’s primary defensive measure.

For respiration we’ll go with gills, placing them along the belly so water rushes over them as our little critter swims. Reproduction, meanwhile, will be more direct. With the ability to see comes the ability to see potential mates, and so these critters will be able to actually seek out members of their own kind for breeding purposes. This will probably lead to a degree of sexual dimorphism among them, possibly in coloration. They’ll lay their eggs in simple nests in crevices and on the sea floor.

They will be plumaretes, or ‘feather net’.

But our little plumaret buddies will need that predator I mentioned. We need at least one fishy line in this mess or I’ll riot, so let’s play around with that, hm? They’ll be larger than the plumaretes by a fair bit, large, long, and laterally flat. We’ll give them eyes as well, since everyone else has them- only four, forward-facing. They’ll have gills along their sides, along with eight fins, for mobility and respiration. Our first dedicated predators, willing and able to eat anything that’ll fit into their mouths.

They’ll also be our first foray into size as a defense. They’re big enough that the biggest threat to them at this point in development is other, larger, members of their group. This’ll come up more as the project progresses.

Reproductionwise, I think we can safely class them in the same spot as the plumaretes. Sexual reproducers, external fertilizers, that lay eggs in crevices and such. For both groups the young probably make up yet more zooplankton, because a body of water can never have enough of those.

These guys, we’ll call primavenes. ‘First hunters’.

And these four will be the base off which we build all future Red Sea originating species. Next time, we’ll dive into the Grey Sea and see what’s happening with those mad lads.

Trust me, it is definitely stuff.