#like whoever this customer is you’re…selfish

[ultravioletlesbian]

truly do not understand customers who complain that literally could not be me. and not in a “i don’t want to bother anyone because i don’t want them to be mad at me” way but in a “i don’t want to bother them because i literally don’t give a fuck” way like it literally does not matter to me sorry. if you sit down at a restaurant you’ve never been to and then aren’t served for 15 minutes and you’re like “i’m never eating here again” like you’re an idiot maybe. did you try waving down a server. did you walk to the counter and ask to be served. like. i would not give a fuck if that happened to me like maybe some things are going on you don’t know. could we have a little understanding please? let’s have some understanding please.

[lyranova]

This is amazing for your event and such a neat idea! Thank you for creating this, truly. So, if I may... can I have Solid x Rosette (my beloved OC) for the Coffee shop AU?

Hiya @vilandel ! Of course you may, I was really glad to see you request for these two and it was a joy to write this for them (Solid was a little challenging since I’ve never written him in a scenario like this, but thanks to @loosesodamarble ‘s lovely help and guidance I was able to acomplish it 🥰!). Also I adore Rosette and could easily see her and Zera gossiping over all the things happening in Clover over tea 🤭. I hope you enjoy~!

Word Count: 1,566

Warnings: None

————

“ Okay Rosette, I’m leaving you in charge while I’m gone,” Rosette’s boss called over their shoulder as they began to walk out of the café. The young lady nodded eagerly.

“ Alright! I’ll do my best.” She told them, and the boss nodded before walking out of the café.

Rosette let out a soft sigh as she began to look around the café; luckily there weren’t very many customers so she wouldn’t have a too difficult time being here alone, but the downside to the café being quiet was that her mind would begin to wander.

Her pale grey eyes scanned the café; there were many couples sitting around the room, some seemed to be in the early stages of their relationships, some seemed to be well into their relationships, and a few seemed to be ending their relationships.

“ I wonder what happened between them?” She thought curiously. “ From what I heard at the butcher’s shop they were talking about getting engaged.”

She hummed in thought as she began to scan the couple. There was certainly some animosity between them now that wasn’t there before, and there was a…hurt and sadness in the woman's eyes, while the man looked resigned and somewhat regretful.

Her eyes moved further down; the woman had her arms crossed and her leg shook as she tried to hold back her anger. Meanwhile the man sat there calmly, but as Rosette looked closer she noticed he was checking his pocket watch constantly, and his phone on the table kept buzzing every 30 seconds.

That’s when Rosette realized what happened: he had fallen for someone else, and was now breaking the news to his former girlfriend, the woman he was sitting with.

A sad sigh escaped her as she turned away, that poor woman. She didn’t deserve to be broken up with like this.

Maybe there was something she could do?

As she began to walk around the counter to approach the couple and help the woman, the door to the café suddenly opened.

“ Whoever owns that bright red sports car outside better hurry up and move it out of my spot before it gets towed for illegal parking,” The young man announced smugly as he removed his silk scarf from around his neck and took his long, silver trench coat off.

At the newcomers' words, the other man instantly jumped up from his seat and ran out of the café.

As Rosette went to thank the young man for what he did, he began to chuckle.

“ Idiot, wait until he realizes that his ugly little car’s already been towed,” He muttered. “ That’ll teach him to park in Solid Silva’s parking space.”

As soon as the words left his mouth any gratitude that Rosette felt towards him instantly disappeared. Of course this man had the car towed for selfish reasons, and not because he actually wanted to help someone else!

She shook her head before directing her attention towards the woman who had just been abandoned.

“ You okay?” She asked the woman softly as she approached her table, and she nodded.

“ I’m fine, thank you,” The woman replied with a grateful nod.

“ You’re welcome! I called a cab to come pick you up, and they’re waiting outside for you,” Rosette told her, and the woman nodded again before pulling out her wallet. “ Oh don’t worry about paying, I’ve already taken care of it!” She added, and the woman’s eyes widened but she quietly thanked her before slipping out the back of the café.

Rosette smiled triumphantly, proud to have done at least a bit of good, but frowned when someone snorted behind her.

She quickly turned and saw the young man from earlier sitting alone by the window. He glanced at her, and began to try and hide his snickering behind his hand.

“ What’s so funny?” She asked curiously, her head tilting slightly as she looked him up and down. He quickly cleared his throat and shook his head.

“ Nothing, mind your own business,” He told her in an irritated tone as he looked away.

Rosette huffed a bit before walking back around to stand behind the counter, that was really rude and uncalled for!

But he was a regular customer here, so even though she wanted to tell him that he was mean she couldn’t unless she wanted to lose her job…

As she cleaned and organized things behind the counter she glanced over at him. For the past few weeks he had been coming by the café everyday at the same time, and she couldn’t stop herself from being curious; so she began to ask around about him.

Apparently his name was Solid Silva, he was the third child and second son of the esteemed Silva family, and from what she heard and witnessed first hand, he could be a bit of a…jerk to say the least. He was a spoiled rich boy who looked down on others that were of lesser status than him, he felt entitled to even the most minor things, and there were rumors that he would even go as far as to harass and bully his younger sister!

Based on all of that information Rosette had grown a strong dislike for him! She also came from a rich family, but that didn’t give her the right to act better than others!

If only there was a way to change his mind…

“ Tsk she’s late,” He muttered as he crossed his arms and glared out the window, his foot tapping against the floor in irritation.

“ Are you waiting for someone?” Rosette asked curiously as she turned to fully look at him, and he glared at her again.

“ That’s none of your business,” Solid huffed as he turned away from her again, and she quickly put her hands on her hips.

She had had enough!

“ Y’know, with an attitude like that I can’t imagine any woman wanting to meet you!” Rosette told him sternly, and Solid quickly turned to look at her.

“ Excuse me?”

“ Your attitude,” She continued with narrowed eyes. “ You act like you’re better than everyone, you like to flaunt your family’s name and wealth but you never do anything good with it! You’re just…mean!”

Solid stared at her in bewilderment, and then his eyes narrowed in anger as he stood up and walked over to the counter.

“ Do you realize who you’re talking to?” He growled. “ I could have you fired for this!” Rosette nodded.

“ I do know who you are, and to be honest I don’t really care!” She told him seriously. “ It’s about time someone talked to you about your bad attitude and how you treat others!”

“ I only treat others how I believe they should be treated,” He responded. “ Take that man from before; he felt that he had the right to park in my parking space, so I put him in his rightful place!”

As Rosette opened her mouth to argue back, the door to the café opened again, and in walked a man who looked very similar to Solid.

“ Oh good, it seems that the two of you have already met,” The man announced as he walked over to the pair.

“ Nozel!” Solid exclaimed in relief as he ran over to the other man.

Rosette’s eyes narrowed; so this was the new head of the Silva family? But, he looked so young?

“ You need to have this woman fired immediately!” He told Nozel as he stood beside him, and his older brother raised a questioning brow.

“ You want to have your fiancé fired from her job?” He questioned curiously, and suddenly everything went very quiet and still.

Fiancé…?

“ Huh?! What do you mean ‘fiancé’?!” Rosette and Solid exclaimed in unison, causing all the other patrons to turn and look at them.

“ Just what I said, as of this afternoon the two of you are now engaged to be married,” He explained as though it were obvious. The pair looked at each other for a moment before looking back at Nozel.

“ To her?!”

“ To him?!” Nozel nodded.

“ Indeed. I just arrived from a meeting with Mr. and Mrs. Vitrail, as of next week you’ll be moved into the Silva residence and the week after that you’ll be taught how we conduct business operations so you can contribute to the family business.” Nozel explained to Rosette, who just stared at him in disbelief.

This couldn’t be happening…how was this happening?

“ I…I don’t understand,” She began softly as she tried to wrap her head around what was going on. “ How did you meet my family? And how am I in an arranged marriage?!”

“ Your parents have business associates with my family for many years, although our relationship has kind of waned a bit over the years,” Nozel told her. “ As for how you’re in an arranged marriage, your father told me that it was what you wanted?”

Rosette opened her mouth, but paused before quickly closing it; oh yeah, she had asked him to arrange a marriage to a wealthy man for her. The reason she had asked her father to arrange a marriage with another wealthy family was so she could do more good in the world. More money meant she could give more back to society, right?

But she hadn’t expected her arranged marriage to be with the Silva family, or with the one member she seemed to get along poorly with!

————

Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you all have a good day~!

[softc0reearts]

Room99 | The Mandalorian

Chapter: 2/3

Word Count: 2213

Synopsis: Din has no idea how he’s going to do to get Grogu back from Moff Gideon, and in his desperation, he finds himself on the doorstep of an apostate that’s said to believe the Mandalorian are cursed. He expects a variety of reactions to his arrival but what he doesn’t expect is to show up at a dance club that is the target of drug smuggling pirates. Now Din is placed in the middle of a conflict that changes him forever.

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

Cere-Sal took a step forward, her jaw visibly tensed and fists clenched so tight her knuckles went white. Despite her body language, she didn’t say anything and just stared at Din’s mask. Din didn’t see anger, what he saw was a conflicted expression. Her fist was clenched but her face only showed regret. 

“You’re not the first Mandalorian to seek her out, but she’s like a wild animal. When she realizes you’re too close, she will run and hide so you better make this encounter work or it’ll be years before she’s found again.” Din’s conversation with Bo-Katan dwelled in his head again and in this moment, he could see the look of that animal being hunted. So Din did the only thing he could think of, he raised his arms as a white flag and parted his lips to talk. Before he could even get a breath out,  a loud crash came from the main room of the club. Both Din and Cere-Sal directed their attention towards the door they both just came through. 

“Not this again…” Cere-Sal hissed, her once tense body now moving towards the door. 

Din watched, tilting his head just slightly. “What was that?” he asked, her response signifying it may be a regular occurrence. 

“These annoying pirates that like to cause issues for the club because they had a dispute with the owner. Now they come in every time they’re in town and cause issues and run off all the customers.” she looked back at Din before her attention moved on to finding something to use as a weapon.

She wasn’t dressed for battle, if these pirates were a serious threat, she could get hurt and then he’d not get her help. Maybe it was for a selfish reason but he moved forward. “Stay here, I’ll check it out.” and without waiting for a response, he moved right past her and pushed the door open.

The music was still thumping, so anything she may have said after he stepped out of the dressing room was tuned out by the music. The room was far more empty then when he first arrived, whoever was left was now being hassled by pirates of various races. They all wore a similar jacket with a large patch, a symbol Din had never seen before. The ones closest to him were behind the bar raiding the drinks and food, so he turned his attention to the ones hassling one of the dancers. 

Din didn’t say anything, he just stomped forward and grabbed the shoulder of the closest pirate. It didn't expect Din, so the Mandalorian was able to get a hefty grip and pull the pirate forward into a fist right to it’s gut. It let out a groan and fell to one knee to catch it’s breath. Din was so caught up in that pirate that he didn’t notice the two pirates he clocked raiding the bar had started his way. They didn’t make much noise and with the sound of the music, they were able to grab Din from behind without a struggle. He had a pirate on each arm, one hand on his bicep and the other pushing down at his shoulder. He attempted to struggle free but everything was so loud and their combined weight was just enough to push him to his knees. The pirate Din had attacked, stood and faced him with a smug look on its face. It’s mouth moved but Din couldn't hear it over the music so all he could do was watch as the pirate pulled a strange bottle from it’s jacket. The talking turned to laughter as it stepped towards Din with it’s free hand out. It didn’t show but Din was panicking, he didn’t know what the pirate was about to do and despite his best struggles the two pirates holding him had a firm grip on him. 

“We’re just having a bit of fun, why don’t you join us.” the pirate said as he leaned down and lowered the bottle to Din’s mask while his free hand tugged at the bottom of said mask to lift it. 

The pirate didn’t wait for Din's mask to be off before it started shoving the bottle towards his now exposed chin. The panic caused Din to breathe heavily, catching a whiff of a sweet, almost chemical smell. It burned as it came in through his nose, causing his head to jerk but whatever was in that bottle was now infecting the air inside of his mask.

“Come on Mandalorian, don’t fight it, you’ll have more fun if you just take a deep breath.” the same pirate antagonized him, his mask now passing his lips. 

A flash of neon green flashed past Din’s eyes and right into the Pirate’s head as it laughed, causing it to drop the bottle and go stumbling in the direction it was hit towards. The shock gave Din a chance to readjust his helmet and pull an arm free from the pirates. He used that hand to grab the wrist of the pirate on the opposing side and pull it over his shoulder and onto it’s back with a thud. As Din turned to handle the other, it was already on the ground with a six inch platform boot pressed into it’s chest. 

“You need to take your mask off NOW.” Cere-Sal had never truly lost her Mandalorian training, which came in handy when dealing with pirates. 

She didn’t wait for a response and came right from Din’s mask, getting as far as reaching towards his helmet before her wrists were grabbed by Din. “No” he muttered, she knew the creed so he didn’t feel the need to elaborate on his response.

“What you just inhaled is a synthetic drug, one made to really mess a person up.” she pushed forward, causing them to stumble back a few steps. 

She was strong but Din had dealt with stronger, so he pulled her wrist away from his face and gave her a hard push before releasing her. Din watched Cere-Sal stumble back and from her body came three clones, all different monocolors. He looked at each of them with confusion, they mimicked her for a moment before one of them lunged for him. He moved to guard himself but the clone was gone before anything happened, which caused him to glance back at Cere-Sal who was alone without her clones. His brow furrowed, she was talking but moved far enough that she was muffled by the music. 

Just as he was about to take a step forward, two bright blue hands snaked around the “eyes” of his helmet and tried to cover his view. Fortunately for him, they were partially translucent and he could see through them, unfortunately that didn’t help when they yanked him back. It was so hard he didn’t just take a step back, he stumbled and landed on his bottom. Standing over him, feet to each of his side was Cere-Sal but entirely blue and glowing like the tubed lighting of the club. She looked down at him, her face twisted into a sinister smile, an expression that made him uneasy because there was something unnatural about it. 

She bent her knees, her bottom hovering over his body as she rested on her bent knees. She turned her head to the side, lowering one of her hands against his chest. His focus went from her expression to her hand that now moved up his chest as her fingers walked along his armor. “Did you forget what Bo-Katan said about my last words before abandoning the Creed?” her voice echoed in rhythm with the music. 

Din couldn’t focus, his eyes watching her painted nails get close to his mask which caused him to internally panic. “I…don’t remember.” he stuttered. 

“Yes,” she stopped moving her fingers up and tapped Din. “You,” she tapped again. “Do.” and again. And with that, she grabbed the sides of his chest armor to yank him up so they were now inches from each other's face. “What did I say?”

“The Mandalorian are cursed, that’s why we lost our world and continue to suffer great loss.” he repeated what Bo-katan told him about Cere-Sal’s last words as a Mandalorian. 

With that, his armor was released and he dropped back to the floor with a grunt. For a moment he thought maybe it would end but then he felt a weight on his lap, Cere-Sal’s clone was now sitting on him with her knees up so her arms could rest on them. 

“Isn’t that why you continue to fail, you can’t even protect cargo and now you’ve lost…” she hummed, her bottom lip puckered out as if pouting, “a foundling?” 

She was mocking him.

But she wasn’t wrong.

Here Din laid, failing yet again to even get help from someone who he would have once called family. 

“Did you think coming out here would get him back?” Cere-Sal’s clone asked, her pout now gone. “And what if you get him back, you have no direction on where to take him or how to find the Jedi.” her words stung but she was right. Din had been grasping at straws since Grogu became his foundling. 

He couldn't say anything, it wouldn't change the outcome of this realization. 

“It’s not your failure completely, if the creed is cursed, you never had a chance of ever making a difference.” she set one of her hands against his chest. “I don’t blame you for feeling defeated, it’s why I left. I needed to take back what the creed had taken from me.” every word made the dread grow stronger and stronger. 

If he was no longer a Mandalorian, could he get Grogu back?

Before he could even voice his defeat or react to the question that just rang in his head, Cere-Sal’s clone leaned in. Her expression matched how he was feeling, like they had both lost something dear to them. She parted her lips, but didn’t say anything because they both knew that nothing she said could change what had changed in Din.

Just as the defeat had set in, a pair of arms came right through the blue clone and grabbed Din’s chest plate. When he was pulled forward, the clone became a cloud of smoke that he was pulled through. 

“Get up.” the real Cere-Sal was now right in his face, glitter twinkling on her eyelids and expression twisted into a snarl. “Don’t lose it on me, there are still pirates to deal with.” 

“I’m sorry, I can’t help you.” Din huffed, clearly struggling. “You were right about the curse, I didn’t want to see it but you’re right.” his voice only got worse as he spoke. 

“What?” Cere-Sal looked confused, her grip loosened and his armor slipped from her grip. 

“What you said when you left, how the Mandalorian were cursed.” Din looked defeated and Cere-Sal didn’t even need to see his face to know it. 

“Now is not the time for this, just get up.” she stood up from her couched position, looking down at him with little expression on her face. 

“No, I need you to understand that you were right.” Din tried to lift himself but was unsteady. Instead, he lifted his hands to pull his mask away.

Before he could get further than his chin, Cere-Sal pushed against the top of his helmet and because of his intoxication, was able to push it back on despite his opposing lifts. 

“I didn’t leave because I thought the Mandalorian were cursed, I don’t know who started that rumor but it’s not true and I’ve told every Mandalorian before you the same.” she started, her once stoic face now showing an emotion Din was struggling to read. “I left because I was tired of losing the people I loved.” She let her hands slide from the top of his helmet to the sides so she could hold his head in place. “I’m not built to withstand loss like that and I just couldn’t continue knowing it would likely happen again, so I left and came looking for a new purpose.”

As she talked Din could get a better read on her expression, it was regret. He didn’t move, not even to remove her hands from his mask and instead just listened and allowed her to get what she clearly needed to get out, out. 

“I was tired and suffering from survivor's guilt, I wanted to see what was out there for me that could help with the pain I was enduring. It was never about the creed, it was always about me wanting more than the creed could heal me.” her grip on his helmet loosened, just enough that his head slid back.

What Cere-Sal couldn’t see, was that Din was nearly passing out, whatever he’d inhaled was doing it’s worse to him. “I need…” he slurred, “Bo-Katan…” he was able to get out before he lost consciousness. 

Cere-Sal was able to stop his head from falling, but now she was left with a passed out Mandalorian and a club full of pirates. With a deep sign, she gently placed his head against the floor and watched his slow breathing. 

“Fucking Mandalorian…”

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[phoenixyfriend]

👀 PLease tell us your thoughts about the Jedi babies re-growing up among different cultural contexts.

Oh fuck okay

Context: original post, chrono The specific post this ask is referencing: here

Summary of the AU: Disaster lineage got tossed back in time. Anakin stayed 21-ish, but Obi-Wan and Ahsoka got deaged, took new names for time-travel reasons (Ylliben and Sokanth, or Ben and Soka), are now staying with the True Mandalorians under Jaster Mereel because the Force said to, go back to the Temple after about a decade. They grabbed Shmi about three months after arriving.

So as far as the cultural background goes, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka had similar upbringings. She spent a few years on Shili first, but both spent the majority of their childhoods up to age 13/14 being raised in the creche. So that's the basis that they would default to, in a vacuum.

Nobody is raised in a vacuum.

Along with the Jedi cultural background, they're being raised by Tatooine natives in a Mandalorian environment.

Shmi and Anakin are both former slaves who have desert survival baked into their bones. The longer Anakin spends around her, the more his accent slips, the more he talks about old folktales, the more he uses idioms that don't exist on a cityplanet like Coruscant. All the things that he tamped down to be a Jedi come floating back to the surface, and Shmi's never known anything else. Anakin's knowledge of slave customs make her feel more comfortable, which in turn makes him feel better, and so on.

Mandalore is just... the culture they're living in. You don't grow up in a new culture with a new language without picking up on it personally. (Source: I moved to the US when I was a little under two years old.)

I think the thing I'm going to focus on as an example is the way each of these cultures approaches family, and then maybe how they approach the keeping of peace/what peace means.

Jedi: Where you come from means little, only the legacy you leave behind in your students. Mandalore: You protect your clan and your children; adoption is a major cultural value, if not actually practiced consistently. Tatooine: You can lose your family at any time, so you value what you have in all its forms. You don’t forget where and who you came from, to family of blood and family of choice alike. You cling to your memories and what little you still have of them, to what your master cannot take away.

These are all valid ways to approach family, and each of these approaches can have significant meaning to different people. But they do all, to a certain degree, conflict with one another, despite all three being fairly communal cultures.

The Jedi have a culture, one that’s built on a shared ability and religion over thousands of years. It’s not just an organization, but a continuous community with legends and traditions and art and records. But it’s one that is built on new blood coming in from the outside, volunteers who join because the religion speaks to them (near literally, given the nature of Force Sensitivity), given up by families who couldn’t or wouldn’t teach them in a way that let their talents flourish instead of pushing it all down.

For the Jedi, a culture built on people coming together due to something they have in common intrinsically that their families of blood do not, it makes sense to put emphasis on letting go of that past when they can, and to place importance on teaching lineages. It’s not just the official master-padawan pairs, either, but that’s the most obvious and easily paralleled element. Moreover, a lot of the Jedi culture is about gaining knowledge, so obviously spreading it is good, and also on supporting the galaxy to make it a better place; to view the Jedi order as a heavily communal culture would make sense, since their values are all about selfless betterment of the universe, which on a larger scale is about the galactic conflicts, but on a smaller scale is about supporting their own community, the children and the ill and elderly.

So that is the specific culture that Obi-Wan and Ahsoka grew up in, one that holds blood family as relevant but not particularly crucial to one’s identity, but is structured so people leave behind legacies through education in a manner that often becomes adoptive family (depending on your definition, I guess). Jedi are encouraged to connect to their home cultures, if not their families, with practices like the coming of age hunt for Togruta leading to the young Jedi taking a trip out to Shili to engage in that cultural milestone. This can also be viewed as a way for the Jedi to maintain personal connections to the wider universe, a (not entirely successful, but certainly attempted) way of keeping them from becoming too isolated and insular from the universe at large, and losing touch from what the galaxy actually needs of them.

They’re now growing up with two cultures that do place emphasis on blood and found family.

Mandalore, as presented in The Mandalorian, has their traditional values set as being heavily associated with their armor, battle skills, and childcare. While that’s clearly a set of values that aren’t actually followed by everyone with full sincerity, we can assume that these stated cultural values do have at least some impact on the way the society is structured, since we do see more traditional characters (Jaster, Din) adopt orphaned children and then have the Mandalorian elements of their immediate circles support that claim.

(We’ll ignore Jango and the whole clone army thing because the amount of Sith influence is up for debate and also holy trauma, Batman.)

However, we also see that a lot of Mandalorian culture is built on their family histories. On the New Mandalorian side, we see emphasis placed on the fact that Satine is House Kryze and that she’s a duchess. Her bloodline is relevant, though not the most important thing about her. On the Death Watch side, we have Pre and Tor placing emphasis on the fact that they’re Clan Vizsla, descended from Tarre, that this is important to why they deserve what the darksaber represents, this is part of why they not only deserve to lead, but should for the good of Mandalore.

Bo-Katan’s armor is a family heirloom. Boba’s armor was Jango’s, but before being Jango’s, it was Jaster’s. Armor is important enough to pass to family, but the family can be adopted. This all tracks.

The resol’nare specifies loyalty and care for the clan/tribe among the six tenets.

These two elements seem relatively well-balanced: the importance of adoption and the importance of family as a larger unit on the level of a house or clan.

And then you have Tatooine, which also balances blood and adoption, but for entirely different reasons, that being this: it can always be taken from you.

For all that a Mandalorian could historically expect their family to die in battle, and a Jedi could expect to lose their master the same way if things went poorly, those were usually choices. A Mandalorian was raised to walk into battle, and then they could make that choice to do so. It wasn’t often much of a choice, but they could feasibly turn their back and choose to be a farmer or a doctor or something, and support the people who went out to do battle instead of being the one on the field themselves. A Jedi could choose to be a healer or an archivist or join one of the Corps.

A slave does not get that choice. A slave can be killed or sold on a whim from their master. It’s not a one-time trauma, but an ever-present fear. Your parent, your child, your sibling, your spouse, all of them can be separated from you at any time. You can always lose them, and you have no choice but to grin and bear it, or try to run and die before you reach freedom.

In a context like that, I imagine Tatooine places a very heavy emphasis on family, both of blood and of choice, and on treasuring what you have while you have it. A person is always aware that they can lose whoever they have in their life, and so they make the most of their times together, have clear and consistent ways of expressing that love (I imagine primarily direct verbal confirmations and physical contact, practical gifts like water and fruit). Childcare is important, elders are venerated. Those who survived that far have valuable wisdom, and the children are to be given what happiness they can have before reality wipes that ability from them.

The family ‘networks’ among Tatooine slaves are smaller and tighter knit. There’s less trust for outsiders, but once you’re in, you’re in until you are taken away. Still, families are torn apart regularly, and often can’t contact each other after being separated if they’re sold far enough away, so families stay small because they’re always being broken up. Unlike Mandalore’s tribe/clan system, or the Jedi’s wide, loosely-structured community, Tatooine’s slaves form smaller groups that cling for as long as they can, and try to support each other. (There are selfish ones, of course, especially the newbies, but... well. Most try.)

Tatooine is also much more likely to assign a familial role (e.g. referring to an elder as ‘grandmother’). It’s not uncommon in the others (multiple Jedi refer to their masters as a parent or sibling, like Anakin’s “you’re like a father to me” line), but it’s not as baked-in that such a role should be given.

So on a structural level, we have two people from a community culture with little emphasis on blood family or formal familial roles are now being raised in a community that has them asking “what can you do for the people around you first, and then the wider world?” by people who tell them “your family, blood and found, is the most important thing you have; never let anyone take more from you than they possibly can.”

And that shit has an effect.

For all that Sokanth and Ylliben were once raised with a knowledge that their duty, their goal, was to better the galaxy as a whole, they are now being told that the community that raises them asks their loyalty back, because societies are built on support networks, and if you support the tribe, it will support you. There are parallels to that kind of thinking among Jedi, because it is basic social theory, but it’s not presented as the same kind of cultural value. It’s not given as something to strive for, just a basic fact.

This, for instance, means that once they’re back at the Temple, they have a tendency towards suggesting study groups and other ways of supporting people in their immediate circle, often structured in very unfamiliar ways. Again, this isn’t uncommon among Jedi, but it’s not done in the same way, or with the same emphasis. The Jedi also often approach problem-solving in a different order, so the step of “meditate on it and you may find your solution” often comes before “gather information from people who know more about it than you do,” while Ben and Soka have by this point learned to do it the other way around, because that’s what the Mandalorian system taught them: rely on your family first.

Meanwhile, the Tatooine element of their upbringing has them being much more willing to just... casually refer to ‘my dad’ and ‘my sister’ and so on. They use those words. It’s not just “my master is like a father to me,” but “this is my father.” They don’t hesitate to talk about the family they had and still have in Mandalorian space. None of the Jedi begrudge them it, really, but it’s always a shock to hear for the first time, and between the Tatooine refusal to pretend the connection is gone and the Mandalorian tendency to err on the side of roughhousing as affection, they’re just... odd. It’s not like none of the other Jedi know family outside the Order--some of the old books had Obi-Wan visiting his brother on Stewjon once in a while--or like none of the active Jedi are loud or boisterous, but the specific manner in which Soka and Ben interact with the Order, especially when their dad is around, is very weird.

More Soka than Ben, really, but that’s mostly just because Ben’s a very quiet person until he gets a little older, so it’s harder to notice on him.

Point is, while they still hold to their duty to the wider galaxy and will continue to keep that duty above almost anything else in their lives, the way they talk and act about the subject of family, especially in private, is heavily influenced by their new cultures.

This is already very long but I promised I’d talk about peace so let’s go:

The Jedi seek peace as an absence of war and conflict in the portion of the galaxy under their purview, in hopes that they will prevent as much suffering and death as they can.

The Mandalorians are varied, but Jaster Mereel’s group (which is the community the Skywalkers are with) is likely to view peace as unrealistic to achieve in the long term. They do not seek war, but they know the world they live in, and are prepared to protect against violence as their first resort. They always expect an attack, even if they don’t seek it.

The Slaves of Tatooine view peace as the calm in a storm. It is the status quo. Nobody has escaped tonight, for the guards aren’t searching, but neither is anyone dead. The Master you have is in a good enough mood to not sell you, to not kill you, to not beat you. Peace as an absence of suffering is impossible, so you seek for your master to be peaceful, that is to say: not raging at you.

The scope of each of these narrows significantly. From the known galaxy, to the wars that meet Mandalorian space, to the household one serves.

A community like the Jedi can choose to address peace as something to be sought on a large scale as an absence of war. They primarily function within the borders of the Republic, which has its problems but is largely structured to prevent such things from occurring until the Sith interfere. The Jedi have a structure that allows them to address peace as an ideal to be sought, at least within the borders of the territory they serve.

Mandalore, meanwhile, has been at war on and off for... ever. When they are not at war with themselves, they’re at war with someone else. ‘Peace’ is just the time between wars, and they know that if they do not attack first, they will be forced to defend. Jaster Mereel was known as the Reformer, and part of that was that instituting a code of honor, one that was intended to prevent Mandalorian warriors from acting as raiders and brigands, but rather acting as honorable hired soldiers, or taking roles such as the Journeyman Protectors. Given that, I imagine that he views war as something inevitable, but also something that can be mitigated.

War doesn’t touch Tatooine.

Oh, it might raise taxes and import rates. It might prevent visitors who come for the races. It can do a lot of things.

But to a slave, these are nothing. The only thing war does is affect the master, the person who chooses when their slaves get water, when they get beaten, when they are no longer useful enough to keep around or keep alive.

The peace of a slave’s live is dictated by how much abuse they are subjected to by the person who owns them.

What this means for Soka and Ben is... well, they are viewed as war-hungry by the people who don’t know them very well. They have armor. They focus on fighting, both with and without their sabers. They know tactics better than most masters. They claim that war is coming, and don’t seem too sad about it.

(It is a fact to them. War will come. All they can do is meet it. They’ve already done their mourning once.)

They also... well, Shmi tells them things in hidden corners. How to duck their head to hide the hate or fear in their eyes. How to watch for the anger in the tendons of a hand. The laugh of someone who enjoys the pain they’ve caused, not just the adrenaline of a fight. She is free, and so are they, but she has not forgotten how to hide in the shadows until the master’s ire has turned elsewhere. How to be small and quiet and unseen until the danger passes.

A Jedi’s first resort is words. Their second is their saber. But the Jeedai hold their heads high, and the Mandalorians do the same.

“You rely on the Force, and you have your pride,” she tells them, her hands on their own. “But there will come a time when you will not be able to remind people that you are free. You will not be able to say that you are a person, that you deserve the respect of a living sentient. Perhaps it will be a politician who treats everyone like that. Perhaps you will be captured by an enemy. Perhaps you will be undercover. You will not be able to fight, with words or with weapons, and you will have to know how to survive.”

Tatooine does not have peace. Tatooine only has survival.

And while Jedi fight for the survival and peace of the universe, they are refined and composed. Mando’ade fight like warriors of old, and Tatooine slaves fight like cornered, rabid anooba.

The galaxy comes first, but when the chips are down and the Sith come out to play, Soka and Ben do not need refinement, because they know how to toss aside their pride and live.

[plus-size-reader]

Feelings

Jace Herondale x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2213 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: The reader is a vampire who owns the hardtail bar, who has quite the past with Jace Herondale which they never really addressed to begin with

—————————————————————————————————

Owning a downworlder bar was hardly the cakewalk it made itself out to be.

In all the years that you had owned Hardtail, you had come in contact with all sorts of colorful characters. From vampires and werewolves to demons and demon hunters, there was no telling who was going to walk through that door.

Though, no one was quite as interesting to deal with as Jace Herondale was.

He was an arrogant ass, of course, only doing things when he wanted to do them, and why. Not to mention that he was utterly ridiculous most of the time, something that made him almost impossible to deal with.

...and you would know that better than anyone, seeing as you’d done just that for quite some time.

Going out with him hadn’t been your finest moment, you could admit that.

All in all, you and Jace had nothing in common, and all you ever did was argue but no matter what you did, you always found yourself coming back to him. Without fail, you sought him out and just couldn’t cut the tie you felt to him.

It was impossible.

He just kept coming back, and it wasn’t as if you had it in you to turn him away at the door.

Though, today was the first time he’d ever come in here with someone else in tow, not to mention a woman. She was pretty with fiery red hair and no doubt a personality to match, if you knew him well.

That must have been what had taken him so long.

Normally Jace would stop by every few weeks, just to make sure that none of the downworlders were starting trouble for you, but he hadn’t been here in months now. Clearly, it wasn’t all that big of a deal what happened here, unless of course he needed your help with someone.

Then you were good enough to visit.

“What can I get for you?” you asked, quite similarly to how you would greet any other customer, your eyes staying on the girl at his side rather than looking Jace in the eye.

Whatever it was he needed, you were sure that he’d get to it before you had to do too much more of this, or so you hoped.

You had other customers after all, and most of them didn’t take too kindly to being ignored.

“I’m actually not here to drink. I’m here for you” he grinned, resting as casually as he could against the bar, as if he had any right to do that.  Though, it wasn’t as if you were going to throw him out just for that.

At the very least, you knew that you had to hear him out.

“You mean, you are” you clarified, gesturing to the redhead at his side, who you still had no idea about. You had never seen her before, in all your escapades with shadowhunters, and it wasn’t exactly like they were a vast breed.

Whoever she was, it was news to you.

“Right, Y/N this is Clary” he shrugged, plopping down on the barstool across from where you were standing, filling up a glass of bourbon. You had no idea what was going on, or why you cared, but you smiled anyway.

Whatever this girl, Clary, was doing here, you were sure it had nothing to do with whatever it was you and Jace had been doing for the last few years.

She nodded in acknowledgment of you before turning her attention back to Jace, who hadn’t explained anything about this place to her before they showed up.

“What are we doing here?” she muttered, her words little more than a whisper in his direction which you caught easily due to your superhuman hearing. Usually, nothing of value happened here but usually, Jace wasn’t here.

Not like he was today.

“If anyone knows where those vamps are keeping Simon, it’s Y/N. Nothing happens in the downworld without her hearing about it” he shrugged, helping himself to the glass you’d poured, shooting a wink in your direction as he did so.

It was true.

This was a pretty popular hangout spot for all the vampires in the downworld, and as they drank, the more their conquests bubbled to the surface. It was hardly your fault if you paid attention.

“You're more than welcome to ask around, I haven’t heard that name in here before” you shrugged, filling your own glass from another tap, specifically for the vampires like you that frequented this place.

Alcohol didn’t do nearly as much for you as some good O negative did.

Clary nodded, heading off in the direction of where you’d gestured, clearly more determined to find her friend than Jace was. He didn’t seem to care all that much about anything at all.

...but at least that hadn’t changed.

“I had no idea you were seeing someone new” you hummed, not bothering to meet his eyes as you focused all your attention on the stout in front of you. Now that the two of you were alone, it was different.

There was nothing else for you to focus on, and at this point, anything would have been better than dealing with this.

After all, you had no right to be jealous.

You and Jace hadn’t been an item in a few years, and whatever he wanted to do, that was his business. You weren’t going to get involved, just like you should have done from the start.

It would be easier that way.

You didn’t want to deal with this any more than he did, but even with how awkward this was, Jace looked like he was having a great time. This was fun for him, because of course it was.

Everything was fun for Jace, because he always thought he was one step ahead of everyone else.

“I’m not necessarily seeing someone else” he shrugged, taking a long, heavy sip of the glass you’d put in front of him before moving on to anything else behind the bar that would be easier to deal with than him, your jaw tight.

You were avoiding him.

...And frankly, he couldn’t blame you.

The two of you’d had a long, sorted history, and this was hardly the first time you’d seen something like this from him. Really, he was surprised you even cared at all because of how commonplace it was.

It was just the kind of person he was.

Still, he hadn’t brought her here to hurt you. He needed your help, because if anyone knew what to do about their little vampire problem, it was you.

“Besides, this isn’t about her” he sighed, standing from the barstool he’d set himself down on when he arrived to try and get your attention. You were angry with him, and he couldn’t blame you for that, but he couldn’t avoid this.

It was important.

“I don’t think she knows that” you countered, pouring another shot for yourself which you downed casually before finally meeting his burning gaze. Whatever it was that he wanted, you both knew that you would help.

Because of the two of you, Jace was the selfish one. He did what he wanted without thinking about the consequences but you had never been like that.

Even now, he was sure that he could come here after months of not seeing you and ask a huge favor, and you wouldn’t hesitate to do as he asked. It was just the way you were and nothing was going to change that.

It was just who you were, and while he should have probably felt bad about knowing that and never trying to change it, there were too many other things he had to deal with.

Besides, if he was going to be a good boyfriend, he should have been that when you two were actually dating.

Worrying about it now wasn’t going to do either of you any good.

“Would you stop worrying about Clary for a second? We have things to do” he scoffed, snapping at you in a way that forced you to do as he said, if for nothing more than a second. You had no idea what was going on, but it was much more important than some new girl.

You just weren’t sure why yet.

“Simon’s at Hotel Dumort, I spoke to Raphael Santiago about him. Now would you get out of my bar” you sighed, desperately hoping that now that you’d given him what he wanted, he would go away.

Lying to them before hadn’t been your finest decision, but you couldn’t help it. You didn’t want to do this anymore, not with him.  

The two of you had gone your separate ways for a reason, and you weren't really in the mood to rehash it all with him right now. It would be better for both of you if he just went away.

“I could, but I don’t really think you want that” Jace shrugged, that sly smirk on his face as he sat back down, still sure that this whole thing was just another game like you were so used to playing.

You didn’t get your feelings hurt.

That was what you always told him.

That you had lived too many lifetimes to ever get too attached to anything, or anyone. That you would be perfectly fine if he fell off the face of the earth one day and never came back. It would be so much easier that way, if you actually believed it.

You loved him.

Of course you did, but there was nothing you could do about it now. You and Jace had tried this whole thing and it didn’t work. You knew that if you gave it another shot, it would end just as badly as the first time.

It always went badly with the two of you.

“I really do, you shouldn't have come here” you allowed, taking his glass from the counter and setting it behind the bar before going for the backroom. You had no idea what was happening with you right now, or why you felt like this, but it didn’t really matter.

All you could think about in this second was getting away from him.

Not that Jace was going to let that happen.

Clearly, he had pushed you too far and this wasn’t the lighthearted tormenting you two usually got up to. You were upset, which was new for him because you were normally so hard to rattle.

He’d never gotten such a rise out of you before.

“Hey, hold on. Where are you going?” he asked, shooting Clary one last glance before following you.

The action caught the attention of several of the patrons he passed, but not one of them moved to interfere. After all your years of running this place, they knew well that you could handle yourself.

Even against a shadowhunter.

“Go help Clary find her friend, Jace. I’ll be here” you shrugged, bearing down on your teeth as you tried your best to shut down all the emotion bubbling up inside you. You didn’t want to feel it, didn’t want to care, and that wasn’t going to change.

Jace wasn’t yours anymore.

It was true.

You were always going to be here, and he knew that.

That was why it didn’t matter if months passed by before he came back or if he brought beautiful girls with him to meet you. No matter what he did, you were always going to be waiting for him and maybe that was the problem.

Maybe that was why you hadn’t worked in the first place. You were too available, too happy to help him when Jace was only concerned about himself.

“Will you?”

It was rich, especially coming from him. Acting as if you hadn't been there for him whenever he needed you even after you should have turned your back on him.

Of the two of you, he shouldn't have been the one worried about being alone.

“I get it. Vampires don’t have feelings right? We’re just monsters, and you kill monsters. I was an idiot to think that would ever change” you sighed, doing your best to ignore the anger bubbling up in your belly.

You just felt like such an idiot.

How could he have actually thought this whole thing was going to be a good idea? After all this time, it was almost as if he didn’t know you at all.

“I loved you, more than anything” he tried, not understanding how you’d managed to go from what you’d been like fifteen minutes ago to this. Fighting wasn’t new for the two of you, but this was.

Something about this was different.

This wasn’t fighting for the sake of it, knowing that you would find a way to make up when it was all over. It actually felt like you didn’t think he cared about you, which couldn't have been farther from the truth.

When you two were together, he’d never once doubted the way he felt for you. Though, you weren’t sure that you could be so convinced, because whether he believed it or not, you knew Jace better than he knew himself.

“I wish I could believe that”

[daniyanii]

I POSTED THIS ON MY WATTPAD (melaninanimez) FIRST

Soft Yandere Dabi

You remember the exact day you met him. You were just doing your day to day job as a florist. You loved your little shop with everything you had left, because well....it was all you had left.

Many years ago your shop was actually your fathers. You used to run around smelling the flowers and playing with the petals in your own world while he worked to give you everything he could. Life was good...until it wasn't.

One day while you were playing in the back room, your father was being robbed. He was always a prideful man and would refuse to give up, but that was his downfall. He refused to give the money not because he was greedy, but because he was saving up to give you a real christmas that year.

After he refused the money the robber was fed up. Your little dream world was interrupted by a single gunshot, something heavy dropping to the floor, and rummaging through the cash register.

You heard the bell on the front door ring quickly as whoever committed this crime ran off. You were completely frozen with fear, but you slowly inched yourself out the room. Once you hit the main room you were horrified to see blood spilling down the small steps that lead behind the counter.

"Daddy?" your high voice whispered out

But you got not response, the only sound that filled the room was the spilling of blood and your jagged breaths.

You had to no choice but to walk up the steps since that was the only way to get behind the counter. You always used to run around barefoot so you had to step directly in the warm trailing blood. When you peeked behind the counter it confirmed your worst nightmare.

Your father had been shot dead.

You remember running to his body and screaming. Begging him to move or talk, asking him not to leave you. But after a few minutes of crying and pleading you knew it was over, he was gone.

He wasn't the first parent you had seen dead either. Your mother killed herself by overdosing a year prior. It took you hours to realize she wasn't just sleep. You remember bouncing on her chest laughing, and begging her to get up. But after your poured water on her hand and when she didn't move you knew something was wrong.

You always tried not to think about it but without fail it remained a constant replaying memory. It was like an annoying fly who just wouldn't go away no matter how many windows you open. You took the pain and trauma from both of those situations and pushed it all the way down to your feet. Whenever you thought about it in public you would just put a smile on your face like always and keep moving.

One day a young man came in staring at the ground, refusing to look up at you. Nevertheless, you still smiled and greeted him like all your other customers.

"Do you have any sunflowers?" He mumbled out still looking as far down as he could.

"Of course I do! Let me show you." You spoke with enthusiasm since surprisingly no one ever asked for sunflowers. Plus....they were your dad's favorite.

You stepped down the steps, and lightly grabbed his hand to lead him to the flowers. He seemed to tense at this but didn't pull away.

"Theyre all the way back here since people aren't usually big fans of them." You explained but quickly shut up, feeling like he wasn't one for small talk. You let go of his hand when the sunflowers came in view.

"There they are, beautiful as ever. I'll leave you to it, any other questions you have I'd be glad to answer." Since his head was slightly up now he could see you but you couldn't really see him, you still gave him your warmest smile and began to walk back to the counter.

"Um, can you actually help me pick one? I'm not very good at this." He spoke deeply, he knew that any other day he would have wordlessly walked in and wandered till he found what he needed, grabbed the first one he saw and left. But something about this woman made him have to talk to her. She radiated this warmth that even he couldn't make.

"Of course! It's not like there's anyone else in here." She turned around smiling again

She began asking him simple questions only flower related. She could tell he was a private man due to his lack of responses and she would respect that. After they picked which ones he wanted they traveled back up to the counter. He had subconsciously fully lifted his head up, displaying scorched skin and stitches. He didn't even realize until she spoke again.

"I'm sorry but your eyes are just beautiful." She confessed to him which made his eyes widen

Half of my face is burnt to a crisp but she noticed my eyes first? And complimented me...she must be joking

"I'm sorry again, I didn't mean to upset you and overstep. Here you go, free of charge." She quickly recanted once she saw his face frown

When he went to grab the flowers his hands grazed hers. He expected her to snatch her hand back after feeling the scorched skin, but she gently let go once she was sure the flowers were in his grip.

"It's alright. Thankyou for the flowers and helping me but I must pay you." He reached to his pocket but she pulled his hand out, holding it for a second.

"No need. It's nice to actually have a customer on the weekdays. Consider it a gift!" beaming brightly and the dark man

That damn smile again, why is it so enchanting? Is that her quirk?

"What's your name?" He blurted out before he could stop himself, and subconsciously tightened the hold on her hand

"Y/n L/n. What about you stranger?" Her smile never once faltered and she didn't even think about pulling her hand away

Why isn't she scared of me? Or is she just good at acting?

"Dabi. My name is Dabi." He bluntly responded

"Well Dabi, I hope to see you again. You seem like a good man." Y/n had always been like this, her kindness knew no limits. Anyone else would’ve immediately labeled Dabi dangerous…which he was

"I- Okay." For once Dabi didn't know what to say

After that day he stalked her non stop. It was such a surprise to see that once she was in the "safe" confines of her home how fast her smile dropped. How on most days her eyes would immediately begin to water as she scolded herself about being weak.

It saddened him to see how draining it was for her to act so nice. She wasted her kindness on anyone and everyone, and it took a lot out of her.

He had finally worked the courage up to go back. This time he knew he'd have to have her forever.

"Hey Dabi! Nice to see you again." she exclaimed

She remembers my name?

"Hi Y/n." He spoke lowly trying to avoid eye contact since he knew she was probably disgusting by his burnt skin and stitches

"More sunflowers?" she questioned since most people always got the same flowers

"Um, I guess you could say that." He answered knowing she wouldn't get it, but he knew that whenever he saw sunflowers (or any flower for the most part) he couldn't help but see her smile.

He considered her a flower, more specifically a sunflower.

"Well you know where they are. Need any help picking them out?" She questioned while he just nodded in response

She took a deep breath and walked down the very steps that haunted her. Almost as if she could still feel the warm blood between her toes She refused to show her pain so she did what she always did....smile the pain away.

When they got to the very back where no one could see them, he grabbed her hand. Not forcefully, but he had a good grip on her, scared that she would snatch away.

but she didn't

and in that moment he knew

she was his and his only

"Dabi are you okay?" She asked smile slowly dropped as she saw his nervous face

"Why aren't you scared of me?" He blurted out, needing to know the reason.

Her warm smile came back as she grabbed his hand a little tighter

"Well, you haven't given me a reason to be. You're really nice, and I have no room to judge anyone."

Dabi's heart was beating so fast he could hear it. He no longer could live without her, what was to come next had to be done.

"W-Would you mind taking a walk with me?" He asked nervously, knowing that any normal person would practically scream no

"Of course, the shop is slow today anyways. Come on." She took their hands and intertwined their fingers

Dabi could feel all the blood rushing to his cheeks. He never had a woman, or anyone touch him like this so willingly.

She let Dabi lead and after quite some time she realized he was walking her out of town.

"Dabi where are we going? Town is back that way." She questioned

"I-I'm selfish. I need you, I want you, and so I'll have you. You'll learn to lik-." Dabi was cut off by lips touching his

His heart damn near stopped

He had never been kissed before

He'd never even had a hug

And here she was kissing him first

"Dabi I already like you. I'll go anywhere you want, but what about my shop? It's been in my family for generations." She replied softly

I'm fucking dreaming arent I?

"W-We can arrange t-to have it looked after." He was in such shock he could barely talk

"Okie Dokie. Then lets go!"

"Are you serious? You're not gonna run or scream and call me a monster? You'll just come with me willingly?" He stared at her with udder disbelief, expecting her to kill me

"Will you protect me?" She ignored his questions and dropped her smile to know she was serious

"With my life. You'll never be hurt again." He didn't even hesitate, wrapping arms around her waist, not pulling her in for a hug because he didn't wanna scare her.

"Will you give me your loyalty?"

"There is no one else I could ever feel like this for. Only you." He confessed truthfully

"And you promise not to leave?" She was tired of everything in her life leaving

So what if Dabi wasn't "normal"?

So what if she would never leave his sight?

She finally had someone again, and she didn't wanna have to let go again.

And he wasn't letting her go

So it would all workout

"I will never leave you. And you can't leave me. I-I love you." Dabi couldn't believe he just said that but he really couldn't believe what happened next after that

"Then what are we still here for. I'm ready to go home with you." she said while pulling him in for a deep hug

He just inhaled her scent, she smelled so floral and ethereal.

He couldn't believe she wanted to be with him.

[wienerbarnes]

Italian Heart

Pairing: Bucky x Italian!MobBoss!Reader

Word Count: 4,867

Warnings: canon level violence, possible inaccurate italian slang lol

A/N: ive been watching a lot of the sopranos lately and i feel like ive never seen a bucky x mob boss reader au (ive only rlly seen em where buckys the mob boss. if there are ones where reader is the mob boss PLS SEND EM TO ME I BEG) a lot of the slang and mob stuff here is from sopranos bc... im not in the fucking mafia so forgive me anyway enjoy :)<3

MAIN MASTERLIST

Bucky’s never seen a woman quite like yourself.

Dressed in expensive satin and jewelry that hangs between your breasts, an angry look on your face at the fact you’re sitting before him and Sam in an interrogation room in the tower. Freshly done nails, clean and crisp lipstick, spicy perfume, and an expression of annoyance.

As put together as you look, you don’t look like someone to be fucked with. Which, he supposes is good for a mobster; the Boss of Newark.

Looking at you, though, he’d never thought you to be such a figure of intimidation. While the mafia is still alive, despite how the media tries to deny this, he always pictured an old Italian man that chain smokes cigars. He doesn’t think he’s too far off, to his credit; he can smell the remnants of smoke on you.

“Mind if we make this fast? My cousin’s comin’ for dinner and I was gonna make ziti.” You huff, crossing your legs under the table.

“Sounds delicious. Sorry for dragging you all the way out here.” Sam says, a calm look on his face even though he’s well aware of what you’re capable of.

When hunting down the last traces of the super soldier serum, he never thought Nick Fury himself would suggest getting in touch with you. He didn’t think it was worth the time to question how the two of you knew each other.

Theft. Drugs. Murder. Bribery. The list goes on, and there’s not a single thing that ties you to any of it.

A shrug of your shoulders, “So, what exactly is this about?” You ask.

“What is it that you do for a living?” Sam asks.

“I work in waste management.” You respond, a rehearsed answer.

Not exactly a lie, the environmental facility you manage is one of hundreds of covers used by your crew for your crimes. Environmental facilities, deli shops, strip clubs, auto shops. There isn’t a business in Jersey you aren’t tied to.

“Waste management? Like, garbage disposal?” Bucky asks, knowing exactly what it is you do for work.

You smirk, “Yeah, we dispose of garbage sometimes. What’s that got to do with me being here?”

“It’s to my understanding that you’re in the business of… buying and selling things. You and… the people you hang around got a real knack for it.” Sam tells you.

Bucky holds back a roll of his eyes. More like stealing and selling. Expensive Italian suits, antique watches, cars, electronics, illegal cigars. Who knows what else.

“I don’t know where you heard that… but I’m a popular gal, maybe I know a guy who might know a guy. What are you lookin’ for?” You ask.

You know this game, after being in the mob for so long. After being a part of your own crew for years, your patience and hard work paid off, working your way up to a captain and finally a boss. It didn’t take you long to learn in this business that government officials are jokes. Always wanting to bust my balls and then come crying to my corner for help, it’s a bunch of ugatz.

“Serums.” Bucky finally speaks.

A laugh escapes you, “What, like vitamin C?” You teasingly smirk at him.

His chair makes a loud sound in the small room as he pushes it back harshly and stands, resting his hands on the table in between the two of you. You don’t flinch.

“Enough with the bullshit. Super serums. To create super soldiers. We need to get them before they end up in the wrong hands and make a big ass mess.” He snaps at you, but you don’t seem phased in the slightest. In fact, you seem rather amused.

“You must have a lot of agita with all that anger, Sergeant Barnes.”

He doesn’t hold back this time and rolls his eyes before you speak up again, “Your first name is James, isn’t it? Ain’t that Italian?”

“No, it’s English. Or Scottish. Or Jewish - I don’t know, who cares? Are you gonna help us or not?” Bucky takes his seat again, crossing his thick arms over his broad chest.

“What’s in it for me?” You ask, leaning back in your chair.

“Not being arrested for all the shit we know you’re caught up in.” Sam offers.

You roll your own eyes this time, “I’ll take my chances. Thanks for wasting my time, boys, don’t let it happen again.” You stand, prepared to make your way back to the train station to go back to Jersey.

“Wait,” Sam stops you, “What is it that you want?”

You smile innocently and take your seat again, taking a minute to think before answering, “My little sister’s a big fan of yours. I’m sure she and all her friends would think it’s cool if you showed up to her prom as her date.” You wink at Sam.

Silence fills the room as the men think about your request.

“You’re gonna do it, right?” Bucky looks over at him and sees Sam rubbing the crease in between his eyes. He was expecting you to ask for immunity, protection, money, guns. But after hearing your request, he supposes you have enough of all that stuff anyway.

“Man -” Sam begins to refuse.

“Sam, it’s a fucking school dance in exchange for some of the most powerful and sought after serums on the planet - go to the fucking prom.” He tells him, eyebrows scrunching in confusion as to how he would hesitate on something so simple.

“She’s eighteen, so you won’t have any problems with the media or none of that.” You add, the information not really making Sam feel any better.

“Alright, alright, fine. I’ll go to the dance with your sister if you help us get these serums.”

You smile, happy to have done business with the two men, “What information do ya got for me?”

…

Bucky and Sam wait outside a back room in the facility you own. They passed the garbage trucks parked neatly outside, but could hear your screaming and the smell of Cuban cigars as soon as they entered the building.

She’s with a customer, they were told, by someone in your crew, them meeting Bucky’s expectations for mobsters more than you did. None of them ask any questions, but Bucky and Sam aren’t stupid, they’re sure your crew is aware of what’s going on and know the exact reason they’re there.

“You’re a fuckin’ asshole, you know that? The Bible says, Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit -”

“You listen to me, you take your Bible and your quotations book and shove it up your fat fucking ass! Now get the fuck out of my face!”

Bucky can’t help but scoff listening to you scream at whoever’s inside. Sam elbows him, silently telling him that now isn’t the time to find your work funny, especially not in front of the rest of your crew.

Bucky knows he’s old-fashioned, and while things that were taboo such as body modifications or certain fashion styles don’t phase him anymore, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to hearing a woman talk like that. He doesn’t think he’s ever even heard anybody talk like you do.

Suddenly a man bursts out of the room, huffing and puffing, and you walk slowly behind him, as if to make sure he makes it outside okay.

“Grab his plate for me, will you?” You say not to anyone in particular, voice smooth and calm as if you hadn’t been yelling and threatening that man’s life for the past twenty minutes.

One of the men from your crew follows outside, seemingly to collect the license plate of the man who just left.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to that guy, right?” Sam asks as he and Bucky enter the room, taking a seat in front of the desk you have in there. He knows there’s no point in asking, that you’ll do whatever you want regardless because it’s obvious you’re passionate about receiving respect, but it was worth a shot.

“Is that what you came all the way to Jersey to ask me? Christ, I’m fuckin’ starving, you boys want anything to eat?” You ask, accent heavy as you reach into the side drawer of your desk and pull out what seems to be some kind of meat wrapped in paper.

“Gabagool?” You offer to them, picking out a slice for yourself and placing it in your mouth.

“Gesundheit.” Sam responds.

“It’s pork, you asshole.”

Bucky silently reaches over and picks off a slice of the cured cold cut, putting the meat in his mouth and savoring the flavor. While he can’t stand the way you make a living or the sailor’s mouth you have, he loves Italian food, and actually chose a neighborhood in New York that has plenty of traditional cold cut markets and restaurants to live in in order to fulfill his cravings.

“There’s a big party staged downtown this weekend, we think that’s when the drop is going to happen.” Sam tells you, bringing the focus to their reason for coming here in the first place.

“I’ll send one of my boys.” You reply in between your chews.

“That wasn’t the deal. The deal was you get the serums.” Bucky speaks up.

“Buck, you know how many people want her dead?” Sam tries to reason.

“What the fuck do I have a crew for then? - No, if pretty boy wants me to do it myself, then I will. The same people that want my head are the same fucks who are terrified to be within twenty feet of me in fear they’ll make eye contact. I’m not scared of nothin’.” You say, narrowing your eyes at Bucky.

“What did you guys come here to talk about?” You ask.

Sam looks confused at your expression, “...To go over the plan? Hash out details? So you know how everything’s gonna go?”

“I’ll be fine; I’ve seen The Godfather once or twice,” You tell him, wrapping up the cappo, after Bucky picks off one last slice, and replacing it in the drawer, “Don’t worry Captain, this ain’t my first rodeo. I’ll get the serums for you.” You open a different drawer and pull out a cigar and a lighter.

Bucky watches as you place the large cigar in between your red-painted lips, bringing the flame of your lighter to the end and hollowing your cheeks until smoke exits from the corner of your mouth. Bucky feels blood travel south as his eyes glaze over your hand grab the cigar out of your mouth and blow out a long string of smoke.

“I guess we’ll be in touch then,” Sam stands and Bucky follows after.

“My sister’s wearing blue, so find yourself a nice tie.” You call out, lifting your feet up to cross them on the desk, dress rising and showing your legs.

Bucky blushes, and then laughs as he exits when he hears you, in a deep and more exaggerated accent than your own, “Just when I thought I was out… they pull me back in!”

…

The morning of the party, Sam and Bucky pick you up from your house, planning to take you into New York to discuss final details before tonight.

You get in the passenger seat, Sam offering it to you and climbing in the backseat. As Bucky begins to drive off, your phone rings.

“I told you to leave that.” Bucky says, telling you explicitly to leave electronics here to prevent anyone finding out where you are, and also to avoid any distractions.

“Wanted to see what you’d about it, Sarge,” You wink at him, pulling out a flip phone and answering the call.

“Yeah… Uh huh… He what? Are you fucking kidding me?... Alright… Tell him not to move a fucking muscle.” You hang up, slamming the phone closed.

“Stop at the facility for a sec, I gotta take care of something.” Bucky sighs and turns away from the route to head to your facility.

“Bucky’s going to be going with you tonight, by the way, he’ll be in disguise. Just in case anything goes wrong.” Sam tells you, not really caring anymore about having to make a stop for you to take care of whatever business you need to take care of.

Your only response is a hum as Bucky can feel the anger radiating off your now tense body.

You slam the car door shut as Bucky parks behind a garbage truck outside, not even waiting for him to fully put the car in park before you exit.

Him and Sam follow quickly behind you to see what’s going on. You enter through a side door that leads to a large room, a garage for the trucks, Bucky assumes.

There’s a large truck inside, and racks of suits wrapped in plastic scattered around. A younger man stands near the truck as your crew peruses around the racks, he couldn’t be older than twenty-five years old. Your heels click on the ground as you approach, slowing down as you glance between the suits and the young man. Bucky and Sam hang around a few feet behind your trail.

You stop, fuming, staring at the man before you speak, “You wanna tell me what the fuck happened?”

“I -” He begins, but you cut him off, raising an open hand at him.

“Actually, I don’t even want to hear your fucking voice right now. Because if what I heard you did is true; if what you did to Vinny’s guy is true, you’re gonna be a fuck load of trouble.”

“Can I -”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“But -”

“I said shut the fuck up, Christopher! What part of that don’t you understand?” You yell, and even Bucky feels intimidated.

You turn to your crew, “What the fuck happened.” You demand, more than ask.

“Kid says he tried to take the truck, Vinny’s guy had a gun that fell outta the seat, went off, shot him.” One of the men summarizes, not looking up from the rack of suits.

You raise a manicured hand to pinch between your eyes, “You keep me skinny, Christopher, with all the fucking stress you cause me.”

“Would you let me explain?” He tries.

“If you don’t do as I told you and shut your fucking mouth, you’re gonna be buried with two assholes,” You threaten before continuing.

“They were fuckin’ suits! All you had to do was take the truck! How did you fuck that up -” You stop yourself and sigh, attempting to calm yourself down.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna take all this shit, you’re gonna take it back to Vinny, and you’re gonna tell him what happened yourself.” You finish.

“Marone!” He exclaims, rubbing his face with his hands.

“Enough with the theatrics! You’re lucky I don’t put a bullet in your ass! Now, I don’t see you grabbing that rack and that rack and that rack and putting it back in the truck!” You wave your arms around the room.

The kid sighs and begins grabbing the racks one by one and rolling them back in the truck.

“Would it be such a shame if they all went back?” An older man from your crew asks, already wearing one of the expensive suits. You scoff and laugh.

“Bucky, pick yourself somethin’ nice for tonight,'' You turn to face him, and he jumps at the sound of your now calmer voice being directed at him, as opposed to the harsh one used on Christopher, “On me.” You wink.

...

Sam and Bucky sit on the bed and watch as you get ready. A small apartment near the party that’s already been swept for bugs. A favor, you called it, from someone you know.

They don’t question it.

“You and Bucky will go in together and I’ll be waiting at a secondary location watching and listening to everything.”

Bucky can’t tear his eyes away from your dress. A mermaid dress, he thinks it is, black and tight and hugging you in all the right places, curving around your ass and sleeveless at the top, allowing you to show off a nice necklace and your cleavage. It’s an understatement to say that he’ll enjoy accompanying you tonight, even if it’s in a costume.

His mother probably would’ve loved it if he would’ve gotten with someone like you. Someone who loves their family, a spitfire that wouldn’t take any of his shit, and whose god damn gorgeous. She might’ve had to wash your mouth out with soap, though.

“So, why is Bucky goin’ again?”

“Safety.” Bucky answers.

“Is he going for my safety or am I going for his?” You tease, finishing the last few curls of your hair, smoke coming from the iron after each time you pull your hair away from it.

“Once you find our guy, get talking with him and see if you can get him to make you an offer,” He begins.

“One I can’t refuse?”

“Then, you’ll try and get him alone, see if he’ll show you the serums, and once you do, we’ll be taking care of the rest.” Sam finishes explaining.

Bucky plucks a box from his pocket and opens it to reveal a pair of diamond earrings. One, a camera, and the other, a microphone. You’re also given a comm to hide in your ear so both him and Sam can hear everything and you can hear them.

“Easy - peasy.” You respond.

The ballroom is lively, loud music and people everywhere, and Bucky attunes all the action overwhelming him to a sweat and not that fact that you’re pressed up against him, his arm wrapped around your waist.

About a hundred different people come up to greet you, asking about your family, offering you drinks and food. Bucky can see right through all of them though; they’re all putting on the act out of fear. Everyone’s attention is on you, and Bucky’s sure if he wasn’t in disguise right now, no one would even notice.

You bring him to the middle of the crowd and he can’t be surprised when you start to dance with him, pulling at his arms to get him to loosen up. He complies, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close as the two of you move together.

“I’ll let you know when I spot him.” He tells you, voice causing goosebumps to rise on your neck; goosebumps that he notices but doesn’t point out.

It only takes a song or two before he spots who he’s looking for and sends you over, making sure your com is on, and choosing to stick by the bar, giving him a good view of you and allowing himself a break of having your body pressed against his.

He’s impressed listening to you talk to this guy, voice smooth and sultry, yet still commanding.

He knows there was a lot of talk when you took position as boss; not a lot of people in the mob took you seriously and didn’t think you or a woman in general would be good in that kind of position in power. So, you use that to your advantage to get shit done, and Bucky applauds you for that.

It’s not long before the guy offers to go somewhere more private to discuss business and Bucky follows far behind, Sam praising you through the coms from where he waits in the car outside, watching through the camera in your earring.

Bucky waits outside of a closed office door upstairs, listening to the conversation through the coms but hearing your exclamation through the door when the guys give you his asking price.

“5 mil each?! What do you take me for, some kinda stunad?”

“Take it or leave it.”

“Take it or leave it, yeah, I can put a bullet between your eyes and take it, alright.”

“Stop messing around and take the offer, it’s not real anyway!” Sam tells you, not wanting to lose their chance on the serums.

You ignore him prioritizing your need for respect over the stupid mission, “How do I know these aren’t Kool-Aid pouches poured in glass bottles?”

“Well, I’m certainly not going to test ‘em out for you.” The guy scoffs.

“Stronzo. You’re outta your fucking mind offering me that.”

“I’ll lower the price for you if you give me a little dance, how ‘bout that?”

“Vaffanculo.” You curse at him.

“Up yours, lady!” He yells back, and Sam sees through the camera, he grabs at you.

“Buck, get in there.” Sam tells him, and it only takes Bucky a second to kick open the door.

He’s a bit taken aback when he not only sees the case of serums out on the table, but you holding the man bent over the small table in the middle of the room next to the serums, gun held to the back of his head.

He very quickly decides that you’re fine and moves to grab the serums, closing the case and holding it securely in his left hand.

“Don’t kill the guy.”

You stay silent and Bucky looks at you again. He can almost see the steam coming out of your ears and he notices a small cut on your cheek bone. He looks down to the man’s cowering figure and notices a large ring on his hand.

You mumble something in Italian to the man, a threat of some kind that Bucky can guess given how the man shuts his eyes and shakes a bit under your hold. Sam finally enters the room, military grade handcuffs in hand.

“Feds are on their way, get her out of here.” He tells Bucky.

You slowly lift the gun off the man’s head and stand up straighter, walking over to brush past Bucky in the direction of the back door.

He makes eye contact with Sam and gives him a nod before following after you, watching as you scrunch up the bottom of your dress to replace the gun in an ankle holster. Once outside, he stops you under a street light near the car and raises his hand to look at your cheek.

“We gotta get going,” You swat at his hand.

“You’re still bleeding.” He says, using his thumb to brush away the line of blood, smearing a red tinge on your skin.

He looks into your eyes and for a second he sees the tough exterior drop. The face of someone who got smacked across the cheek all for mouthing off at some asshole.

Your vulnerability doesn’t last long, though, as you sniff and walk towards the car, opening the passenger door and sitting inside before Bucky can make it over there to open the door for you.

The drive back to the apartment is silent, and Bucky doesn’t know what to do or say to fill the silence. Stepping into the apartment, you immediately go to change and collect your things. Bucky moves to the bathroom to look for a first aid kit of some kind.

He meets you in the room and you’re now in cotton pants and a large t-shirt, sandals on your feet showing the bright red color of your toenails and the lines indented in your skin from how tight your heels were. You’re hanging up the dress and zipping it back in the cover when Bucky drops the first aid kit on the bed.

“Christ, it’s only a small cut.” You mumble.

“Just - Let me, would you?”

He takes out the liquid of disinfectant and soaks a cotton pad, cleaning off your cheek bone with it before covering it with healing ointment and a bandaid.

You don’t thank him when he finishes and he huffs as he closes the kit, “When do you drop the act, huh?”

“I don’t.”

“Really?” Bucky asks in annoyed disbelief.

“No. People tend to try and have me whacked when I drop the act.”

He sighs, “So, what, nobody ever takes care of you? Treats you? You don’t have any days off? Time to be yourself?”

“This lifestyle doesn’t really allow me to have days off, Sergeant Barnes.” You snap, gathering the dress in your hands and turning to face him completely.

“Take me home, I’m tired and my feet hurt.”

You leave him in the room and he waits an extra few seconds before dropping the conversation and following you out.

...

Bucky opens the back door to the environmental facility with his right hand and sees the door to your office open, you and your crew sitting together surrounded by cigar smoke and he can hear a TV on.

“Sir, please step into the vehicle.”

“Like the cop would be callin’ this asshole Sir if the fuckin’ cameras weren’t around!” You wave a hand at the TV, not yet seeing Bucky standing there.

He finds it funny that the gnarliest criminals - the literal Mafia - spend their time watching shitty, scripted cop shows.

It’s been about two weeks since the mission with you where you retrieved the serums. Sam went to prom with your sister five days ago, which was hilarious for him, especially when he got photo prints of different sizes in the mail at his apartment. He didn’t bother thinking about how you found his address.

One of the men sitting next to you glances his way and sees him standing there, smirking at the vision of him; hair combed slightly back and to the side, and a large bouquet of flowers in his right hand and a small paper box in his left.

“You got company, Boss.” He says.

You look over to the doorway and your jaw drops in an open-mouthed smile.

“Look at googootz! Now this is a man that knows how to treat a lady, are you boys paying attention?” You tease, scurrying over to him and pinching one of his cheeks, resting your free hand on his large bicep to guide him into the room, the rest of your crew ushering out to give the two of you privacy.

“What’s in the box?”

“Cannoli.”

You throw your head back with an exaggerated moan, “You know the way to an Italian woman’s heart, Sergeant Barnes. What’s with all the gifts?”

“Thought I’d treat you.” Is all his response is.

You narrow your eyes at him and stand up a little straighter, crossing your arms over your chest.

The last conversation before he dropped you off that night hasn’t escaped his mind. He understands the difficulties of life - how it’s hard to find time for yourself among the busy schedule that is existing. He catches himself sometimes, too, forcing his body to run with no sleep, burning through all of his energy until he’s completely drained and blaming it on life.

But life’s not always like that. Life allows for days off. For treats. For a bit of kindness. And Bucky’s come to show you just that.

“What, a beautiful woman like you never received flowers and pastries before?” He says, taking a half-step forward to be close enough to look you closer in the eyes.

“Are you flirting with me?” You whisper in amusement.

His eyes glance away from yours to look down at your red-painted lips. He gives you a shy smirk, really turning up the charm. For a big, bad, boss, you’re pretty easy to break down.

“Let me take you out tonight.”

“Maybe I’ve got plans.”

“Cancel ‘em.”

“What makes you think you’re worth canceling plans for?”

“Why don’t you trust me and find out?”

“You should know by now, Sergeant Barnes, that I don’t trust.”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, setting the box of cannoli on your desk before reaching his now free hand up to your face, using his finger to brush away a stray hair and push it behind your ear.

He then takes a hold of one of your hands, turning it over to place a kiss on the top of it, before wrapping your fingers around the flowers in his other hand, forcing you to take them.

“No restaurant you’ve been to a hundred times over, no drama, no business. Just a man trying to treat a lady.” You look down at the flowers before meeting his eyes again.

“I get to pick the place.”

“No.”

“The kind of food.”

“No.”

“The -”

“No. Let me take care of everything.” Bucky insists, determined to get you to give up control for the first time in what he can only imagine has been a very long time.

Bucky knows better than anyone how terrifying it is to give up control. It was terrifying when he was forced to give up control, his free will taken away from him in the war for decades upon decades, but it’s terrifying even now when he has to do it as a free man. It makes a person vulnerable. When was the last time you were allowed to be vulnerable for somebody?

“I’m gonna pick you up here at six. Wear something nice and leave the executive attitude at home.” He finishes, leaving you with the flowers and cannoli before returning back outside, ignoring the stares he receives from you crew who wait patiently outside your office.

He feels your eyes follow him at the door, and he can’t wait to sweep you off your feet tonight.

[elvish-sky]

Gone {Fili x Reader}

A.N: My bad, I really meant to have this up by 4pm my time and it’s a whole lot later now so I’m sorry! I really hope this fic is alright! It’s not my best work, but I like it and I hope you do too!

Requested by @anjhope1 on Tumblr: Lol I take up your angst challenge: can I request a female human(bit thick) reader x fili where he accidentally says something mean to the reader but won't apologize so reader like starts to distance himself away from him and starts hanging out with other people?

Word Count: 1,118

Pairing: Fíli x Reader

Summary: You overhear Fíli denying that he likes you to his brother.

Warnings: Angst, Self-criticism, Insults

**** Gone

The halls of Erebor were full of dwarves, the early morning bustle at its highest. You were headed towards the market, determined to find something that Fíli would like. Browsing through the stalls, you came to one that had weapons on display. They were all extremely finely crafted, but none had the look you wanted, so you placed a custom order to be delivered at the end of the week. 

Next, you went to one of the bakery stalls to pick up some goods for Fíli and Kíli, knowing they would appreciate it, before finally purchasing more of Fíli’s tonic from the healers, the one that he couldn’t sleep without but was too embarrassed to buy. 

You wound back through the corridors, making your way through the maze that was the Lonely Mountain, heading towards your rooms. 

“What about Y/N?”

You stopped, hearing your name from the doorway to your left, the one to the hall where the company usually ate when not at formal events. 

“Y/N? What? I don’t like Y/N!” It was Fíli. 

You halted to the side of the door, curious. That hurt a bit, to be honest, but you wanted to hear the rest of the conversation. 

“You’re blushing!” That was Kíli, you could picture him jostling his brother, teasing him.

“Yes, lad. Don’t try to hide it, you love her!” And there was Bofur.

“I don’t!” exclaimed Fíli. 

“Oh, c’mon, Fee. Give us proof.”

“Ummm… she can be selfish sometimes. And spoiled, she grew up with more than we ever had.”

Selfish? Spoiled?

You had sacrificed everything to join him on the quest, leaving your family and the only home you’d ever known. And while yes, you’d had a comfortable childhood, you also knew how ridiculously lucky you were. And despite knowing how much you liked the comforts of your home, you’d still given them up in a heartbeat for Fíli. You’d given up a whole life for Fíli, and he repaid it by calling you selfish? 

You leaned against the wall for a moment, taking a deep breath. You were really, really hurt. It was bad enough sometimes to think those things about yourself, but to hear the person you loved say them about you? You sighed. Maybe Fíli wasn’t the right person for you after all. 

But you would be damned if you cried about it in public where anyone could see, so you hustled further along the corridor to your room. Almost there, you skidded to a halt as you rounded a corner and none other than Thranduil, the Elven-King, stood before you. 

You quickly dropped into a curtsy. “Your majesty.”

You had forgotten the elves were visiting today before heading to Dale tomorrow. 

“Y/N. It is nice to see you again.”

“You as well, your majesty.”

You were trying to end the interaction as quickly as possible, knowing you couldn’t hold the tears in much longer, but Thranduil had other ideas.

“How many times have I told you, Y/N, to please call me Thranduil?”

“Probably many, my l-Thranduil.”

He nodded his head in acknowledgment. “Actually, Y/N, while we’re here, I’d like to ask you something.”

You glanced at him, curious.

“I know you are probably very happy here and are settled, but we could use your unique skills in the Woodland Realm. I’d like to offer you a job as one of my councillors.”

You blinked. Normally you wouldn’t consider leaving Erebor, but you were still very much hurt by Fíli’s comments.

“I’ll do it.”

Thranduil looked shocked. “You will?”

“Yes. When do we leave?”

He quickly summoned a straight face again. “Tomorrow, early.”

You nodded, curtsying again as you took your leave. “I’ll see you then.” 

You left the elven-king standing there, a bemused expression on his face. 

You finally reached the door to your room, shutting it behind you and leaning against it. 

You were leaving Erebor. Leaving, because Fíli did not love you and you couldn’t imagine living that close to someone you loved who hated you enough to call you selfish. Leaning against the door, you felt the tears start to pour and you slid to the ground, arms around your knees as your sobbing rocked you back and forth. 

After a while, you heard a knock at the door. Standing, you brushed yourself off, blotting at your swollen, red eyes before opening it. 

It was Fíli. 

“I am not selfish,” you exclaimed before slamming the door in his face.

Turning towards your wardrobe, you grabbed a bag, ready to pack and leave Erebor to begin your new life. 

Fíli stood there in the hallway, staring at your doorway. You had clearly heard him talking to his brother and Bofur earlier. He knew you wouldn’t open the door for him again, so he sighed, turning away. He’d find you first thing tomorrow and apologize.

“Where’s Y/N?” Fíli stood in the hallway next to his brother. It was midmorning and he had set out to find you and apologize sincerely for what he had said, to tell you that he had not meant it in the slightest, that really, he loved you. 

Kíli looked at Fíli. “Didn’t anyone tell you? She left with the elves. Last night.”

Fíli looked like someone had punched him in the gut.

“She left?”

Kíli nodded. “She’s gone, Fíli.”

He sighed. Of course she was gone. He had insulted her, and she wouldn’t accept that. But he still missed her. 

Turning away from the pity-eyed Kíli, Fíli made his way back to his rooms. Opening the door, he sat in the armchair in the corner, silent. 

A knock sounded against the hardwood.

“Come in.” The prince had barely raised his voice, but whoever was outside had head nonetheless and opened the door.

The dwarf, holding a long package, handed it to Fíli. 

“What is it?” Fíli asked. 

“It’s from Y/N. She ordered it from me for you.”

“Thank you,” Fíli dismissed the dwarf and sat down to unwrap the package. 

It was a gorgeous pair of swords. The metal was tempered perfectly, gleaming, the edges were sharp, and when he held them it felt like they were meant for his hands. 

Y/N had done all this for him.

And what had he done for her? Nothing. He had driven her away, she would never come back and it was his fault. He had been reluctant to admit it but he did truly love her. And now she was gone. 

Fíli started to cry, the tears marring the surface of his gift from you, just like he had marred your heart, hurting both of you forever.

He loved you. But you were gone. 

Everything tag 💞: @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @boyruins @anjhope1 @wellofeternalthirst @kumqu4t @katbby16 @thewhiteladyofrohan @kirstenscaffeinateddisaster @beenovel @shethereadinghobbit

Fíli tag: @laurfilijames

[dreamescapeswriting]

Stranger Danger ~ KTH [Request]

WORD COUNT: 3.7K

PAIRING: Taehyung x Fem!Reader

GENRE: This takes place in 2013/2016 when the boys debuted and then three years later, just so no one is confused, strangers to lovers, online friends, cute, fluffy, 

A/N: I hope this is okay for you, I sort of left it like this so that you could come up with your own extension of it <3 

Taehyung clicked through the in-game chat as he waited for the game to finish, he'd just died and was waiting to see if his team would still win without him. He'd been playing in the same lobby as someone with the name 'XxChickXx' for the last few hours and they were one of the best players on his time. They'd been a good teammate instead of just looking out for themselves, they helped Taehyung out as well and he was trying to find a way to contact them outside of the game so they could play together again, 

Tae: @XxChickXx game tomorrow? 

The small message was blinking on your screen as it notified you that someone mentioned you, you smiled softly before typing out a reply to the name you'd seen. 

XxChickXx: Sure! But add me on steam first? You attached the same name as your Gamertag and smiled to yourself as a friend request came through at the bottom of the screen as quickly as you sent the message. You exited out of the game then went onto steam ready to message whoever this 'Tae person was. He'd been playing great, one of the best players you'd had the pleasure of playing alongside with.

XxChickXx: Never had someone play so nicely before, most people are selfish & rude! Nice to meet you, I'm Y/n. 

Taehyung smiled brightly as the message came through to his screen, he checked the time. He had some time to talk to you before he had to go to practice so he began replying to you. Smiling brightly as he thought about making a new friend, he'd only met a couple online before and then he had the boys he was practising with but that was it really. He'd always been too shy to communicate with anyone else properly.

Tae: Most people are the worst, I'm Tae...Obviously, lovely to meet you XD

You laughed softly as you saw the message and then you began typing out to him again wanting to talk to him more before you headed out for your shift at the local cafe. There was an exciting feeling in your chest as you got the message from him, it was just something simple but it still had your heart racing.

XxChickXx: Tae? Short for anything? Or a nickname...I've never had one before, don't really like going by 'chick' that much. 

Taehyung chuckled to himself checking the time once again as he got up from the desk, installing the app onto his phone so he could keep texting you while he was on his walk to practice. The front door to the small apartment opened and Jimin walked over to the fridge, placing the small container of Kimchi and rice cakes inside. His grandmother was always making sure Taehyung was well taken care of since he'd moved out of his family home. Jimin always let himself into the apartment since he had the spare key for "emergencies" but who cares.

"What's got you smiling so much?" Jimin questioned as he walked up to his best friend, Taehyung physically jumped up. Almost dropping his phone onto the floor as Jimin scared him, he groaned as he began straightening out his clothes again.

"Nothing! Let yourself in why don't you?" His voice was seeping with sarcasm as he stuffed his phone into his pocket as he went to grab his keys to the apartment before they left for practice. Namjoon would have their heads on sticks if they were late again that week, they'd already been late five times.

"I always do, I brought rice cakes from Grandma," Jimin mumbled as they began heading out of the door together but Taehyung wasn't paying attention, his head was back in his phone as he made his way out of the apartment. He never wanted to stop talking to you and he'd barely even begun to get to know you, he could already tell there was a friendship blossoming between you. 

Tae: Maybe I can come up with one for you, favourite colours, fruit, food, place, and clothing item? 

A small frown appeared on your face as you stared at the message, what did any of those have to do with giving you a nickname? You smirked before typing out a response to him, getting a little flirty but it was all fun and games. It wasn't as if you knew one another or would ever actually meet so you just went for it. 

XxChickXx: Trying to find out where to take me for our first date Tae? ;) 

Tae: ...Maybe...You'll find out sooner or later, answer the questions 

Giggling to yourself you stepped into the elevator of your apartment building to see a couple together, both of them holding hands as they waited for you to step in. You brushed down the light pink diner dress you were wearing and took your phone out from the front pocket, this was going to be the only thing helping you get through the shift at the diner. 

XxChickXx: Hmm, you'll have to give me a second to think about it...What about yours though? 

The text messages continued to exchange between you both for six months, you'd grown closer with time with exchanging messages. Learning lots about one another, coming up with some cute nicknames as well as gaming whenever you were both free. There was one thing you never did though, you would never video call or voice call since you were too anxious for that and Taehyung was far too shy. Neither of you minded though, you would text non-stop as often as you could with one another. Morning, noon and night. During your shifts, you would sneak a look at your phone while you hid it in your apron and Taehyung would check his phone whenever he got a break from dancing in the practice room. Jimin giving him nothing but small jokes and banter whenever he could and tonight was no different. Taehyung had been dying to get on his phone throughout the practice but Namjoon had taken it from him, placing it into the drawer so he couldn't be distracted by it.

"All I'm saying is you live your life on that phone and you don't even know what this girl looks like." You heard someone say as you served a table in your section, you finished pouring the coffee before making your way over. Smiling at the two boys in front of you who had taken some seats in your section, 

"Welcome, I'll be your server. Is there anything I can start you off with?" You questioned, looking at the blonde boy who flashed a pearly white smile at you and the brown curly-haired boy who was shyly smiling at you. Jimin glanced at your nametag and smiled showing off to Taehyung how easy it was to talk to someone outside of a phone screen.

"Hi Caroline, I'll take a coffee to start with and I think my friend needs a reality check." You laughed softly not wanting to get involved in their conversations and how he'd used the fake name on your tag. You'd left yours at home and instead of telling your boss you'd forgotten part of your uniform, you switched the tag for someone else's who wasn't there. Jimin smiled at you, trying to get you into the conversation some more. Customers would do it a lot whenever you would serve a table. Most people would stop talking but there were a select few customers who enjoyed bringing others into their conversations. 

"We don't serve that, can I interest him in something else?" You turned to the shy one who was now avoiding your gaze but nodded, looking over the drink options. 

"I'll just take some sparkling water," You hummed at him before leaving and going to get their drinks, smiling softly as you left their table. It would give them enough time to look over the food menu while you checked your phone to see if there was anything from Tae, he'd messaged saying he would reply slower than usual. That his job was making it harder for his replies to come through.

Tae: Finally out from work. Heading for something to eat and then home...Game later? You smiled at the small message on the screen, you hadn't been gaming for a while together so it would be nice to get home and do that after a long shift. Quickly writing out a response to him you glanced at your boss who was staring at you, hands on her hip but you ignored her quickly hitting send.

XxChickXx: Got an hour shift left, I'll message you as soon as I'm online. 

Walking back over to the table you set their drinks down and began taking their food order, while they were ordering you couldn't help but feel as though you knew one of them. The shy one just reminded you so much of Taehyung despite never having met him or heard his voice. There was a feeling in your chest as the shy one spoke to you or looked up at you, it made your heart leap. Just like whenever you got a message from Taehyung over the app. 

"I think she likes you," Jimin whispered to Taehyung as you walked over to the counter, helping a customer as they dropped their food all over the floor. 

"I'm not interested-" Not true, he'd been checking you out while you and Jimin weren't looking. Trying to ignore the thumping in his chest whenever you would smile at him or the tight feeling he would get in his chest whenever you would look into his eyes for longer than ten seconds at a time.

"No, because you're only interested in Y/n...How do you even know she's real? She could be some creep on the internet, ever thought of that? You never call or facetime...It's weird." Jimin mumbled as he took a huge gulp of his coffee, he was going to need it to get through the night. He was helping out at the shop with his grandma that afternoon/night to make up for going to practice today when he was supposed to have a shift.

"I know she's real, why would they keep up a fake profile for the last six months if she wasn't real?" Jimin rolled his eyes at how naive his friend was being, the internet was full of strangers with weird intentions so who knew what this Y/n person was after. Maybe she knew Taehyung was trying to make it in the industry and this was why she'd tried to contact him. But no one knew about that. No one was allowed to know they were working on debuting unless they were involved in the industry. 

"Just be careful...With our lives, we don't know who we'll be able to trust...Don't tell her who you are, don't give her personal information-"

"Jimin, I'm not an idiot," Taehyung grumbled as he got up from the table, paying for the food and drinks while leaving a big tip for the waitress that had been helping them out, glancing over at you as you began laughing softly to someone. He looked down at his phone as he walked out, messaging Y/n to let her know he was on his way back to his apartment and would be on soon. 

There was always one last game and one last text but nothing had prepared you for losing contact with Tae. The messages had slowly begun to stop three years ago until the point neither of you could talk. You'd gotten busy with work and studies and Taehyung had debuted so he never had time to check his phone or game anymore. He hated it but he never once forgot about you. There was never a day that went by when he didn't think about what you could be doing now. 

"It's been three years and you still haven't stopped thinking about her...Why don't you try to contact her?" Namjoon questioned as he walked into Taehyung's dorm room. He'd noticed how glum Taehyung looked lately and decided to find out what was going on with his band member and friend. Of course, he knew of you. Jimin eventually told Namjoon what was going on with Taehyung during practices, he thought he had the right to know since he was the leader of the group. 

"I don't even know if they still-" Just as Taehyung was about to mention about you playing games anymore you logged onto the steam account. Sending a small notification tone to come through his computer speakers, 

"Oh." Taehyung began to blush as he saw your name still hadn't changed over the years, he stared at the screen for a couple of seconds. Debating messaging you or just inviting you to a random game, he didn't know if you would hate him for never replying to you again. 

June 13th 2013: 

XxChickXx: Hey...Game later? 

June 16th 2013:

XxChickXx: Game...? 

July 26th 2013: 

XxChickXx: Hope you're okay if I did something to piss you off I'm sorry. 

An invitation came through on the screen making you jump up as you looked over at the screen, you'd just moved into a new apartment building and it was the first time setting up your gaming PC in a couple of months. You'd never had the time before, between moving into the new apartment building and your job you'd not had the time but this week you had some time off. Choosing to get back into old habits. 

Tae Invited You To A Game. The message made you frown, three years after your last message to him he just randomly invited you to a game. No message to explain where he'd been. Not even a small emoticon to tell him if the invite was meant for you or not. 

XxChickXx: You okay? I haven't heard from you in a while... 

Taehyung smiled softly as he stared at the message, setting up the game as he waited for you to join in. Your character appeared next to his and he smiled, it had been so long since he'd done this it felt good to be relaxing again. 

Tae: I've been busy...A lot. Life is weird now...I'm sorry 

XxChickXx: Don't be, just glad to know you're not dead or something XD

He chuckled to himself and shook his head before looking over his shoulder, Namjoon was no longer in the room so he was going to do something he never thought he would be able to do. But being who he was was giving him a confidence boost, 

Tae: I'll explain it all...Maybe over a facetime call? Or I could meet him for something to eat? 

The thought of finally meeting up with him was both scary and exciting to you, you'd always been warned about stranger danger and never meeting up with someone you didn't know but, meeting Tae had been something you'd always wanted to do. You wanted to get to know him. 

XxChickXx: You're not just some creep right...Meet me at Daisy's Diner, booth six.

A public setting was better for you to meet him, it would be a lot easier to meet him somewhere public. The diner where you worked was perfect since everyone you knew would be there, watching out for you in case it was some creep or you were stood u.

Tae: I can be there in ten.

Stepping into the elevator you looked up to see the shy boy from your diner all those years ago, you looked back down at the floor not wanting to make it seem as though you were staring at him. He was dressed in a black leather jacket, some brown shorts with a hat and glasses on. 

Taehyung glanced at you before going back to his phone waiting for time to pass. He'd seen you around since you worked in the diner he and Jimin always frequented, you weren't in your uniform though. This time you were dressed in some black skinny jeans, a white blouse and you had a warm looking jacket on. He glanced down at himself, hiding his face from you as he pulled the hat down properly on his face. He didn't want the paparazzi to find him, they could be anywhere at any moment but that didn't stop him from wanting to go out. Nothing was going to stop him from finally getting to meet Y/N for the first time. 

The whole walk over Taehyung had been behind you, frowning whenever you didn't turn off somewhere and continued in the same direction, he didn't want it to seem as though he was following you when he wasn't. Then when you walked into the diner he thought maybe you'd started a shift but then if you had, you would surely be in your uniform. That was when you turned into a booth, the same one he'd arranged to meet Y/n in and it made him chuckle deeply at the thought of it all. After all these years he'd seen you many times, talked to you a lot without even knowing it. Talking to you, exchanging polite conversations even after all the years of not talking to "XxChickXx" he'd still been talking to you.

"Is this seat taken?" You slowly looked up at the shy boy, not wanting to hurt his feelings, this was the most he'd ever spoken to you without his friend there. 

"W-Well I'm waiting for -" Before you could say you were waiting for a friend he decided to cut you off politely,

"Tae? I'm assuming you're Y/n...XxChickXX?" You saw the blush spread across his face as he questioned you to make sure his intuition was right about you.

"Tae?! It's been you this whole time?!" You laughed loudly gaining the attention of a few people but he chuckled, sliding into the booth and sitting across from you so he could talk to you properly.

"I could say the same, I can't believe I never put it together. I know you had the same name but...I just figured it was a coincidence." He chuckled as he remembered seeing your name on your nametag before but it could always be a coincidence. The world was full of them. 

"Well, it's nice to finally meet you after all this time...I'm sorry for the radio silence." He whispered as he looked at you, wondering if he should tell you or not about his lifestyle, you knew they were singers since Jimin regularly told you about their jobs.

"So singing is why you've been so busy?" You questioned, turning to your boss and ordering your favourite along with Taehyung's since you knew it by heart. 

"Yeah, I never knew you moved into my apartment building though." He chuckled thinking back to living above you, the world was really trying to make you guys see that it was meant to be sooner or later. 

"I only moved in a few months ago, after all these years we've been so close." You laughed softly shaking your head as you thought about it. 

"Tell me about your singing? I want to hear everything in detail. Especially since we haven't spoken much in a while." He smiled, getting comfortable in the seat as he looked into your eyes wondering where to start with it all. 

Your head was hanging low as you walked into the back entrance of your apartment building, Taehyung doing the same as you walked side by side laughing together about something he was telling you about Jimin. The whole night you'd spent together catching up and telling one another about your lives. It was late, later than Taehyung was supposed to be out since he was getting non-stop calls from Namjoon to tell him he wanted him back at the apartment since it was currently 1 am and they wanted to know what he was doing out so late.

"Jimin had a crush on you at one point, wouldn't stop going into the diner for hot chocolates." You laughed remembering Jimin coming into the diner about seven times a day just to buy the same drink from you whenever you were on a shift. 

"Is he over that? No offence to Jimin but he's not my type and I...I kind of like someone else." You whispered as he opened the door to the apartment building for you, looking around he lead you over to some of the seating they had in the main lobby. His heart sinking at the thought of you liking someone, someone that wasn't him. He knew he should be happy for you, after three years he couldn't expect you to like him...Or even still want to be friends with him. 

"You like someone?" He questioned trying to ignore the way his voice cracked just like his heart, felt as though it was doing when he had no real reason to feel this way.

"Yeah, I had a crush on him a while ago...It's growing more after finally meeting him." You whispered as you looked up into his eyes, hoping that he would get the obvious inkling that it was him you were referring to but by the sunken look on his face he hadn't gotten the hint.

"You." You whispered as you heard the elevator ding to let you know someone was coming, you glanced up and saw it was someone around Taehyung's age so you acted fast. Leaning close to Taehyung and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. 

"Call me when you're out of trouble." You teased him, kissing his cheek again before jumping into the elevator right as the boy got out. Watching you as you waved at a blushing Taehyung who couldn't wait to get back to his dorm room and call you. Ask you out on a real date...Right after he got out of the scolding session he could feel coming from Namjoon who was storming over to him with a look of both disappointment and happiness on his face. Namjoon was never able to stay long at him for long so he knew he could get out of this soon and be able to call you.

Tagline: @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @fan-ati--c​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @rjsmochii​ @taestannie​ @bisexualmess007​ @sw33tnight​ @innersooya​ @sweeneyblue1​

[justanotherpersonsuniverse]

Game Master Akuma AU by  crisisdparity

Xavier Duchamp was rather proud of himself. What he had before him was an absolute masterpiece of a campaign if he did say so himself. The product of over six months of study, research, and rebalancing efforts followed by two weeks of discussion with his five players to hash out schedules, meeting times, characters, backstories, potential character arcs, and getting them set up with a messaging app that was really good for sending discrete messages between the GM and the players. Valentine and her boyfriend Justin were onboard in an instant. Within days, he’d greenlighted their Half-Elf Bard of the College of Glamour whose spell list was 100% Illusion spells and Half-Orc Fighter (Eldritch Knight) who was focusing entirely on Abjuration as Rena Rouge and Carapace respectively. Olivia had spent a few days coming up with a Halfling Rogue and debating subclasses with him until settling on Scout. Along with some discussion over how her special magic item’s stunning and paralysis effect would work with Sneak Attack, the campaign had its Vesperia. Jeanette had gone back and forth with him for a week looking at various homebrew subclasses for her Gnome Artificer before they both agreed on one particular Master Tinkerer entry that would be balanced and do the character justice. And with that they had their Ladybug. Even Matt was on board with a stealthy human Chat the Barbarian using the Path of the Beast. The class choice was something Matt had insisted on (and that Xavier would have suggested anyway just for the high hit point totals given Matt’s history with characters dying) and he’d even come up with a backstory that Xavier felt was quite compelling compared to Matt’s usual efforts. Morally ambiguous, likely to be tempted by promises of power, but with a great deal of story potential to work with. Which was a relief. Getting a new player into their group to replace Matt was not something Xavier really felt comfortable with. There were too many unknowns with introducing a new person, far too many for him to risk his masterpiece on an unknown factor. He knew Matt. He could work with Matt. Despite the history. He’d put everything he had into this. Every known Akuma ever fought by the heroes had been made into a boss-tier foe. He’d carefully documented each and every power the heroes had shown to craft special legendary magic items based on the Miraculous. Hawkmoth and Mayura themselves were going to be the final bosses of his campaign. In response to criticism about the difficulty of his campaigns (he tried to make them fair, but still challenging enough to be memorable), he’d made several guest NPCs based on every other hero that had ever been called upon, statted out like player characters that might show up in a pinch to help. He even had a genuine Deus ex Machina that he was ready to use to get the players out of a truly impossible jam if they found themselves in one. Not always, but a few times at least. Enough to get them to the point where they wouldn’t need it anymore. —– It was thirty minutes in, right in the middle of exposition from the Guardian NPC, when Xavier got his first message on the app. Matt/Chat - Chat’s going to wait until everyone breaks up and follow Ladybug stealthily. Xavier/GM - Starting party conflict on the first session? Not what I’d advise, but it’s your character. Go ahead and make your Stealth roll now. Matt/Chat - <photo> 17 Xavier/GM - Yeah, that beats everyone’s passive Perception easily. You’ll sneak off handily without anyone noticing. —– “Jeanette, Ladybug is grabbed from behind by an unknown assailant. Roll to resist the grapple.” “Geez, already? Okay, what did my assailant get for their grapple? How screwed am I?” Xavier pretended to roll a die while consulting the message from Matt. “19.” “Okay, difficult, but not undoable… Crap.” “What’d you get?” “Nat 1…” “Hah! I rip off her earrings and claim them for myself! The Wish is mine!” “Seriously Matt?! What the hell?!” “Because it’s payback time! Payback for every character of mine killed in these hellish

campaigns!” “Oh, come on! You’re not the only person whose had a character die at this table! <GM> runs some pretty challenging campaigns, but they’re always fair!” “What about the time he killed Allric the Allmighty in a single round of combat?” “Dude, you tried to Leroy Jenkins straight into melee with a 4th-level Wizard that had a CON penalty. Even at full health you had like 10 hp.” “14!” “Not much better, dude.” “Guys, it’s fine. I can handle this. Okay, Matt. Chat the Barbarian managed to get the earrings-” “Yeah, Ladybug screams bloody murder when he rips them out. Good luck getting out of this in one piece.” “The moment Rena hears Ladybug scream, she bolts for the sound.” “So does Carapace.” “Vesperia too.” “-and with their current locations and movement speeds, I assume you’re all using the Dash action?, you’ve got maybe one round to decide on your Wish before they’re all over you, so choose carefully. And be aware that I plan to grant whatever you wish for in the worst possible way, just as I would if any of the others pulled this.” “Rena screams ‘What the HELL, Chat?! We’re supposed to protect the Miraculous, not use them for our own selfish purposes! Didn’t you listen to the Guardian? Such actions always bring misfortune upon those who misuse the Miraculous!’” “Because I am Chat, avatar of Destruction and I WISH THIS WORLD NEVER EXISTED!” There was dead silence at the table. “Matt… What… just… WHAT?!” “Hah! You like that?! How does it feel now that the shoe’s on the other foot, huh?!” “What the hell is your problem, Matt?!” “My problem? MY problem?! Do you know how much time I’ve spent making characters for these shitty campaigns only to have them turned into paste in one session?!” “Because you made primary spellcasters and played every last one of them like a barbarian, charging in headfirst without thinking! All of us breathed a sigh of relief when you revealed that your character finally matched your playstyle!” “I HATE BARBARIANS! THEY’RE BORING! I SHOULD GET TO PLAY CHARACTERS THAT CAN AT LEAST CHUCK FIREBALLS!” “THEN MAYBE YOU SHOULD STOP RUNNING THEM FACE FIRST INTO ENEMY SWORDS!” “NONE OF YOU COULD EVER HANDLE THE FACT THE I MAKE MORE AWESOME CHARACTERS THAN ANY OF YOU, SO YOU JUST LET THIS DOUCHEBAG KILL THEM OFF SO YOU WOULDN’T GET OVERSHADOWED BY HOW AMAZING I AM! WELL NOW I KILLED SOMETHING YOU ALL WORKED HARD ON, SO SUCK IT! I’M DONE WITH ALL OF YOU FOREVER!” “MATT! HEY! GET BACK HERE YOU JERK! MATT!” “Crap, I think Olivia might actually kill him this time…” “It’s going to take all of us to stop her from getting arrested at least.” Xavier just watched numbly as the rest of the group ran out of his apartment. Over six months of work. Gone in less than an hour. He’d given so much to making sure this would work. He’d apologized to Matt at least twice for every character of his that had died to get him to come back. He’d agreed to demand after demand just to keep a familiar face on board, never dreaming he’d pull something like this. He’d nearly gotten fired from his job trying to rearrange his schedule to fit with everyone else’s. They’d somehow, miraculously, gotten the whole day with no other obligations among any of them and decided to make the first session a true marathon. They’d meet in the morning after breakfast and eat both lunch and dinner at the game table before calling it a night late in the evening. It was barely 10:00 in the morning and the whole campaign he’d slaved over for months was kaput. He never noticed the butterfly landing on his custom Miraculous-themed Game Master screen and being absorbed into it. “Game Master, I am Hawkmoth. Few people appreciate the kind of effort that goes into making something truly grand and memorable. I shall give you the power to bring your entire world to life and in return, I ask only for a few simple things.” This was wrong. Hawkmoth was the worst of the worst. The kind of person who would be at home among all the final bosses he’d ever made for his campaigns. Heartless, manipulative, cruel. “Not

enough? Ah, but what is a game without players? How would you like to have the Miraculous heroes themselves run your great campaign? Surely they would be far more appreciative than those ungrateful peons that left you alone with nothing but the broken remains of your efforts.” He knew all these things, but the allure of bringing the world he’d spent so much time on to life… What creator could ever turn down an offer like that? “I, the Game Master, accept… Hawkmoth.” “Excellent. And in exchange, you shall bring me one of two things: The Miraculous, or the identities of their wielders.” “No.” Hawkmoth was silent for a moment. “I beg your pardon?” “I said no. I am the Game Master. I make the world. I craft the challenges. I decide the rewards. But I do not do anything for anyone. If you want these things, get them yourself.” “If you refuse me, it shall be very unpleasant for you.” “No. As Game Master, I decide the limits of all powers within my realm. And I decide that you have none over me.” And with that, he unleashed his creation over all of Paris, drawing everyone and everything within into his sphere of influence. —– Ladybug blinked the spots (ha) out of her eyes as the flash of light died down and looked at herself. She didn’t remember transforming, but she was clearly in her spots. Except her red and black superhero uniform didn’t usually look like it was headed to a steampunk convention. Looking around, she tried to figure out what had happened and her eyes landed on a familiar belt and pants combo. Problem. Whoever this was, their groin was at eye level for her. She looked up. And up. To find a grinning Chat Noir, sans anything resembling a shirt and having put on at least a foot of height and apparently a hundred pounds of pure muscle, grinning down at her. “How’s the weather down there?” Chat Noir chuckled as he flexed his unfairly attractive muscleman physique. “I WILL END YOU!” the heroine snarled, already 100% done with whatever new insanity Hawkmoth had cooked up. Characters: Ladybug - Gnome Artificer (Master Tinkerer - Homebrew) Chat Noir - Human Barbarian (Path of the Beast) —– Vesperia had to admit, as Akuma attacks went, this was pretty dope. She was currently a halfling. A halfling! If it wasn’t for her fantasy ensemble being yellow and black, she’d have thought she stepped straight out of Lord of the Rings. Of course, fantasy setting or not, there were still things she’d have rather left back in the real world. Like racism. And stigma against mixed couples. Not directed at her, but rather at the two walking down the street next to her. “You know, people are staring…” she said as she craned her head to look at her companions. “Let them,” the Half-Elf Rena Rouge (who looked like a cross between a musician and a belly dancer) said from her perch atop the shoulders of the heavily armored (and surprisingly buff) Half-Orc Carapace. “They’re just jealous because their boyfriends can’t carry them everywhere.” Characters: Vesperia - Halfling Rogue (Scout) Rena Rouge - Half-Elf Bard (College of Glamour) Carapace - Half-Orc Fighter (Eldritch Knight) —– Ryuko blinked as she studied the apparent snake-man-thing before her who claimed to be Viperion. She lifted a hand to study it and found what appeared to be bronze scales covering every inch of her skin. She sniffed herself, smelling the sharp tang of ozone. What was she? And why did she appear to be wearing wooden armor? Characters: Ryuko - Dragonborn (bronze) Druid (Circle of Storms - Third Party) Viperion - Naga Sorcerer (Divination Magic - Homebrew) —– Polymouse giggled as her friends ran over her. Okay, she’d freaked out a little to find a swarm of mice (with hair like hers no less) crawling all over her surprisingly mouse-like body when she’d come to in the middle of some forest somewhere. But she’d gotten over it pretty quickly. It helped that her new friends were adorable. It might help more if she could figure out where she was. Or find another person. Characters: Polymouse - Kobold

(rodentlike) Ranger (Swarmkeeper - Reskinned) —– Purple Tigress sighed as she felt the hair (fur?) on the top of her head being shifted around and twitched her new catlike ears in mild annoyance. “Are you quite done?” “Almost!” Pigella’s cheerful voice answered. “Your fur is so comfy!” Tigress sighed. Of course Pigella would end up being a fairy, and having her normal cheerful enthusiasm cranked up to previously unimagined levels. “I love you dearly, but if you start shouting 'hey listen’ I will stick you in a bottle.” “Aw, I love you too! Hey, what’s that?” “I think it’s my character sheet?” Characters: Purple Tigress - Tabaxi Paladin (Oath of Glory) Pigella - Fairy Cleric (Order Domain - Reskinned) —– “According to my analysis, we have been placed into what appears to be a Dungeons and Dragons campaign under 5th edition rules,” Pegasus stated in a mechanical monotone. “I am apparently a Warforged Wizard using the School of Conjuration whose spells create portals to bridge dimensions and summon or banish my intended targets. You are what is known as a Simic Hybrid, with the class of Monk, following the Way of the Drunken Master.” “Aweshum,” King Monkey slurred, his generally human appearance clad in monk’s robes marred by his monkey-like hands and feet as well as the monkey tail swishing behind him. “Why do you keep slurring like that? According to my sensors, your gourd is filled with only water.” “Gotta keep up appearanshes!” King Monkey grinned as he continued faking drunkenness. Characters: Pegasus - Warforged Wizard (School of Conjuration - Reskinned) King Monkey - Simic Hybrid Monk (Way of the Drunken Master) —– Hawkmoth studied the dark red horns growing out of his head in the mirror. The change in appearance was disconcerting, but he felt a rush of power in this new form that he’d never felt before. “Hmm… perhaps I can work with this…” “Speak for yourself…” Mayura muttered off to the side, ruffling her peacock-like feathers in annoyance as she tried to glare at the beak on her own face. Characters: Hawkmoth - Tiefling Dark Lord, Warlock Patron, Contracted by Lila Rossi, Volpina, Queen Wasp, and many others. Mayura - Kenku Assistant to the Dark Lord, Creator of Monsters —– “Oh, come on!” A figure in a cyan and white hooded robe complained as they waved a similarly colored umbrella around angrily. “Everyone else gets to be part of this adventure, why can’t I join them?” “Because you’re too OP. You’d completely break everything and remove all challenge from the adventure.” “But sitting around is no fun at all!” “If you like, I can put you in the position of the main quest giver. Your job would be to direct them towards their enemies and means of becoming stronger.” “That’s it?! I’m on 'mysterious hooded figure’ duty? Boo! Why can’t I fight with them?!” “Because you’re too OP. But if you insist, I’ll allow some Deus ex Machina interventions.” “YES!” “Five.” “I’m sorry?” “I’ll allow five interventions at your discretion to aid them when they are in peril. Once you have come to their aid five times, I will allow no more meetings save to impart quest information.” “That’s it?” “Yes. Choose your interventions wisely.” “So… if I manage to save one for when they fight Hawmoth and Mayura in the final battle…?” “Then I would allow you to join them of course.” “Score!” Characters: Bunnyx: Mysterious Hooded Figure, Deus-ex-Machina (5) Game Master: Akuma Lord of the Miraculous Campaign —– Addendum When the Game Master is finally purified and the damage reversed, it turns out that he took the effort to trap all of Paris in a temporal stasis bubble so that no matter how long passed inside no more than a few moments passed outside. Meaning that after what seemed like months in the bubble, it’s basically less than a minute after he was akumatized when everything is put back. All his friends, minus Matt, come back in bringing a new person named Zack that they vetted themselves to take Matt’s place in case he pulled something like what he did. And while he

has a similar playstyle to Matt, he’s savvy enough to know what kind of characters that is suited for and he loves playing barbarians. They all sit back down and restart the game they were all looking forward to.

—-

oh wow- that’s- wow. good job dude, seems like you worked on this a lot. Next time You should post this on your own account though, as this isn’t getting tagged or anything. Thank you though, you did a good job with this.

[marvel-and-mischief]

Daffodils

Part of my Floriography Series

Pairing: Max Phillips x GN!Reader Words: 1900 Warnings: unrequited love, angst, character death (sort of, it’s vampires!), descriptions of blood and gore, descriptions of dying, descriptions of violence Synopsis: Max is selfish, thoughtless, egotistical, and it might just lead to your downfall

Daffodils: Latin name is ‘narcissus'; based on the tragic myth of the beautiful Greek hero who fell in love with his own reflection 

💐

You could see him now, standing in his office, pulling a blue steel pout in the mirror and fixing his hair with a comb. It was eight-thirty in the morning and Max was readying himself for the day as he usually did, putting a smile on his face and looking good despite the fact he never dealt with customers in person. You supposed it was a state of mind; if he looked good, he felt good and could charm whoever was on the other end of the phone. 

You’re not sure if he knew you watched. Where your desk was situated on the other side of the room, you were the only person in the office that could see what he was doing. You’d never caught him looking at you, or even noticing you for that matter, but that’s how you liked it. Blending into the shadows, head down, getting your work done, and then you could go home on time. 

Giving himself a wink, Max turns around in one smooth pirouette and strides out of his office to greet everybody with wide arms and a toothy grin.

“It’s Monday morning, I know, it sucks,” Max rolls his eyes playfully and puts his hands on his hips in an exaggerated manner, “but if we drive our sales up today then the rest of the week will be a breeze. Come Friday we’ll be sipping on cocktails and laughing at Josh over there, hey Josh,” Max waves sarcastically at a man in the corner who is trying to shrink into his chair and hide his face behind his hand. Everybody except you and Josh titter at Max’s jab. 

Max claps his hands loudly to silence the room and waves in a ‘shoo’ motion to get everyone back to work before returning to his office. It reminded you of a theatre play, how rehearsed it all was, how perfectly he moved from one action to the other. 

That was why you’d started to watch him in the first place. Your train always got you into work an hour before you needed to be there and you’d noticed how he rehearsed things in the mirror in his office before anyone arrived. Motivational speeches to himself, happy smiles and sad smiles, even different types of winks (you knew he preferred his left eye). It was fascinating to see your boss, who was usually brazen and over-confident, practicing his personality for the day. 

Being unnoticed gave you the opportunity to observe him when he thought no one was looking. Like how you never saw him eat anything, only drink from a large flask which he never poured out into the cup that screwed into the top, which was odd but then he was an odd man. He had a subconscious quirk where he’d run a finger along his side parting and sometimes he’d catch himself doing it and look mournfully around his office, as though he was remembering something he’d rather forget. 

But you tried to get noticed sometimes, tried to bring attention to yourself in small ways, just to remind him you existed, that you were there. 

You brought lemon candies back from your beach vacation last Summer, had said you’d brought too many gifts for your family and thought he’d like them. It wasn’t true of course. You’d specifically looked for something to buy him but realised you didn’t know what he liked so had grabbed them in a last minute panic from a little gift shop next to the gas station. He mumbled a thank you without looking, not expecting anything more than that. But it had stung when you found them on top of the trashcan outside the office building. By the front door. He must have known you’d see them as you left the office that day and he didn’t care. Still, it hadn’t dissuaded you.

Sometimes Max would need someone to look over numbers on a Friday night and he’d asked you (via an email). You didn’t mind, there were always regular trains to catch and it’s not like you had anyone waiting for you at home. You tried to use those nights to pry open the enigma that is Max Phillips. You never got far.

The first time you stayed behind had mostly been a silent one. Max hunched over his computer whilst you sat opposite him. You had asked him about his weekend, only to receive a shrug and a muttered ‘out with the lads’. 

The second time you helped him with the numbers you’d managed to peak his interest when you placed your phone down on his desk, your screen lighting up to reveal your favorite movie as your background wallpaper. He’d looked impressed, a conversation starter on the tip of his tongue but instead of saying something, he’d taken a deep breath and pursed his lips before turning back to his computer. 

Had you offended him without realising it? Did he not like the way you worked? You couldn’t put your finger on why he treated you the way he did. 

-

Tonight was another Friday night that Max had asked you to stay behind, but it was far from ordinary. For starters there was a mug of freshly brewed coffee sat on your side of the desk when you entered. You looked questioningly at Max.

“Don’t you like coffee?”

You hurried to nod and sat down. That was possibly the most Max had ever spoken to you. It was what you’d always wanted; for him to acknowledge you as a member of his team, as a hard worker, as a human being. Perhaps you should have responded but you were in shock. You tried the coffee once it had cooled down, it was exactly how you liked it, how did he know?

The rest of the hour went by without either of you talking. You stood from your seat and handed him the closed file.

“Everything’s in order,” you said, putting your coat on and picking up your purse, “I’ll see you on Monday.”

Max grunted something unintelligible as you walked to the door. He spoke a sentence to you today, maybe it’ll be two sentences next week? You internally kicked yourself for letting him walk all over you. He didn’t care for you the way you cared about him, he didn’t think of you as much as you thought of him, when would you learn?

Before you passed the glass windows of his office you looked back to see Max looking in the mirror, fixing up his hair and smoothing down the front of his three piece suit. He looked in the mirror more than he ever looked at you. That should be enough to shake some sense into you. He’d never like you more than he liked himself, but the heart didn’t work on logic. Unfortunately. 

You shook your head and left him there to gaze into his own reflection.

It was dark and cold in the early evenings so pausing to pull on gloves and a woollen hat in the foyer before stepping outside was a must. Just as you were adjusting your hat over your ears you heard movement from a supply closet to your left. You froze, listening out for anymore noise, hoping it was just your imagination. It was deathly silent.

If it came to it you’d run back to the elevator and go and ask Max to check it out for you, damned if it made you look pathetic. If it was someone messing about Max could deal with it, if it was a trapped animal then you’d be doing the cleaning lady a favor in the morning by letting it loose tonight. 

You startled at the noise, turning just in time to see the door knob of the supply closet being rattled from the inside. You weren’t a naturally brave person but you were curious, some would say nosey. You found your feet creeping towards the closet.

“Is someone trapped in there?” You received no reply as you placed your hand on the door knob and slowly turned.

The door flew open suddenly and you were faced with a monstrous contortion of skin and bones, sharp fangs flashed in front of your eyes and then you were hitting the ground. You felt a hot sting of excruciating pain at your neck, like your flesh was being torn apart and warm liquid dribbling down your skin and soaking your shirt.

Your vision became blurry and unfocussed but you think you saw Max, or heard him shouting your name and in a haze of motion the man at your neck had been thrown across the room and then it was his face you were seeing hovering above yours. 

“You stay with me, you understand?” He was panicked you realised, his voice becoming shrill as he held you in his arms, a hand pressed to your throat to stop any more blood pooling out. 

“I’m sorry, I tried to prevent this, I didn’t want this for you.”

You frowned up at him, wandering what he meant. What was happening to you? Why did he care when he didn’t even look at you on any given day?

His brow was furrowed, his lips turned downward, a look of pity in his eyes and it made you mad. Furious. You should be pitying him. This man who loved nobody but himself, who cared for nobody but himself. He was selfish and prideful and didn’t deserve your kindness. 

The adrenaline coursed through your veins and you felt the overwhelming urge to grab him and tear him limb from limb, like you saw predators in documentaries rip apart the flesh of their prey. Max saw the change in your eyes before you attempted to reach for his neck and swiftly held you to his chest in a strong grip.

“I promise I’ll help you through those urges,” he whispered into your ear but it sounded like being underwater when someone was shouting at you from above, you couldn’t make sense of it.

“I thought, if I could keep you away from me then perhaps no one would notice you,” Max carried on but all you wanted to do was shut him up, press your fist into his mouth and stop him talking.

“Perhaps if I’d done the opposite, protected you by keeping you near me, this wouldn’t have happened,” Max carefully pressed your head to his chest, away from his skin so you couldn’t do him any harm. He knew exactly what you were going through and he wasn’t going to let you be alone like he was.

“Because of course I noticed you, how could I not?” 

You were crying now, and your head was pounding too loudly in your ears but his words were getting through to you at last. He’s noticed you? Then how could he treat you so terribly?

“Keep breathing, remember how it feels, it won’t be long before that stops.” 

You heaved in a sobbing breath and gripped onto his forearm that lay across your chest.

“What’s happening to me?” You managed to croak out. But did you really want to know that you were dying? 

“You’re being reborn.”

Permanent tag list: @autumnleaves1991-blog​ @phoenixhalliwell​ + @max--phillips​ 

[fabricated-misslieness]

Peter Parker x gender neutral hero reader

Had the idea out of nowhere, thought it’d be fun

Reader has the ability to resurrect, but have they told anybody? Guess what, no. This technically means that they’d be invulnerable to eternal death by old age, except they’d live dying from old age over and over until the end of time.

Requested: No

Word Count: 1842

Warnings: Major character death, swearing, angst to fluff, sad Peter, promise rings, car crash, atheist Peter and atheist reader, swearing

He thought the 5 stages of grief were false, just a meme to laugh at on the internet. Boy, was he wrong. It was real, all too real.

You'd proven him wrong.

He wished all the ceremonies would be done.

They were overwhelming. He barely had any time to grief before all the events had begun. As a result, he had to bottle up all his feelings. All those speeches he gave in frustration, all those fake smiles he had to give, and all those condolences he had to receive, he wanted it all to be over. When he had the time and everything was over, he finally realized that you were truly gone.

He wished he could have warned you sooner.

“Look out!” His spider-sense had told him before he could warn you. Those were his last words to you. All the pleading, shouting, sobbing.. that’d been done when you were long gone. It was his fault and he would never stop blaming himself for it.

He wished that by some miracle, you’d be with him again.

You didn’t have powers like him, you didn’t have powers, tenacity or years of training like most of the Avengers. You were just you, a teen without a family, with bare strength, flexibility, and the biggest heart he knew. Perhaps in another timeline, you’d never become a hero. You’d just be his lover, supportive and loving and caring and all that. He would do anything, kill, betray, massacre, if it meant having you back. Maybe it was selfish, maybe it was irrational, but he wanted you to be here, with him. 

He wished you’d never left him.

But Peter can’t control life and death, the same way he couldn’t control your actions. You were gone. Nobody could change that and nobody would. He should stop visiting that sapling.. or maybe he should go more frequently. It made him cry more but… maybe that was the way to let you go.

He wished to live forever.

To visit that tree every single day until he died, to see it grow the size of a Coast Redwood, because he knew you were strong enough for that. To live for you, to continue going for you. You’d want that. You’d wanted kids, you’d wanted marriage, you wanted to die of old age with him, you wanted to do so much with him. If he couldn’t do most of those things, at least he could do one. At least he could live like you wanted him to.

Ned, Tony, the Avengers, they were like family to him. They, along with aunt May, had helped Peter come to terms with you. They'd been with him through and through, just like you had once.

Which is why he started all over again when he saw you.

“Hey Peter.” Soft-spoken words in the same gentle voice he’d learned to love. Yet, why was he hearing this again? For a second, he contemplated this, thinking about all the possibilities. This could be a new person with the same voice, he could be hallucinating, which makes ‘I can still hear their voice’ true; this could be some sort of recording… this could be you.

He whips around, almost too fast, to see you, in the flesh. This couldn’t be. You’d died, for god’s sake, you’d died! He saw your lifeless corpse. He was there at your funeral, he looked into your casket at the reception, you were there. So why the fuck are you here now?

“Who-” Peter chokes back a sob. He can feel the tears prick his eyes; he thought he’d ran out of shit to cry out, yet his body finds a way to defy him. “Who the fuck are you?” He has a right to be confused, and to feel threatened. He’s a teenager with superpowers who’d witnessed his partner’s death, and then suddenly he’s back in front of him as if nothing had happened. For all he knew, this could be a new supervillain with transformation powers. Loki and other mutants proved that anything could be possible.

"I know you're confused, and probably scared, but…" You step forward slowly, arms cautiously reaching out to your love. Peter slaps your hand away, but you understand why.

"No shit!" Peter shouts, backing away from you and towards his web shooters. Whoever you were, supervillain or not, you definitely knew about his powers. He could climb up the wall and get to safety. Though everything in him was fighting against his logic and longing to hear you speak and explain.

"I'm not here to hurt you," You step back, remembering just how shitty that phrase is. It's also a phrase a villain would use, and Peter knows that perfectly well. "I'm sorry about that. I don't mean it like a supervillain." It really felt like that was you, but he couldn't trust you until he was sure. "Peter, I'm your lover. I'm (y/n)."

Peter almost runs into your arms but he fights to stop himself. "How do I know that's you?" He shouts. The thin walls would alert neighbors, but he didn't care.

At one point, he'd begged and pleaded for you to come back. Now you were in front of him, and he hadn't done anything for this to happen; he was sure it wasn't those gods he prayed to, as an atheist.

"You can't." You mutter under your breath, hoping he doesn't catch it. You hadn't thought this through enough. You fiddled with your hands, pacing back and forth. Unbeknownst to you, you were scaring Peter. The pacing had made you look insane. Then, you got a thought. The promise rings you'd gotten each other like the cheesy naive teens you were. They were unique, custom-made, courtesy of Tony, and you were buried with yours. "Peter." 

"I was buried with this. There's no other like it." You hold up your hand, showing him the ring. "Hell, I was buried in these!" You gesture towards yourself.

Tears stream down Peter's face as he scrambles for his ring. He'd left his in his nightstand drawer while he cried all those nights. The engravings had scratched against his skin as he wiped his cheeks. He grabs it out of the mess of the drawer, the sight of it causing the tears to start rolling in bigger, hotter droplets.

"(y/n)!" Peter cried out. The promise ring was enough to prove you were… you. Plus, you looked sincere.

"Sweetheart." You sigh out of relief. Peter rushes over to you, wrapping his arms around you in a concerningly weak hug. He buries his head into your chest. You kiss him his hair multiple times to reassure him. "I love you, I'd never leave you."

"But you did!" Peter sobs, further staining your burial clothes. You didn't particularly like them or anything. Peter knew that, but your family was in charge of it.

"I know I did, I'm sorry." You cup Peter's cheeks and pull him to look up at you. The sight of his face, puffy and teary-eyed, it made you feel bad because you were the cause of it. "How about we sit down and I explain?"

He nods, pulling you over to the bed.

"You need anything? Water or..?" He shakes his head.

You sit on the bed, but Peter pushes you to lay down. He snuggles into your side, still sniffling but doing better. "Well, where do I start?"

You run a hand through Peter's hair as you think. "For starters, I can resurrect."

"What the fuck."

"I know, totally weird. I figured out when I got into a car crash. I was pronounced dead on the hospital bed, but when they came back to move the body, I was suddenly alive again. Nobody had an explanation, since they tried with a defibrillator earlier and it hadn't worked." Peter reaches for your hand. "They called it a miracle, some work of god. It sounded like bullshit so I never believed it. There was never really a second time until now, which proved my ongoing theory."

"That's… rough." He really didn’t have anything to say.

"That's rough, buddy." You quoted, to which Peter laughed.

For a moment, you sit in silence. Neither of you know what to say or even if you shouldn't talk. Maybe you should get up or maybe you should stay. Peter speaks up, ending both of your insecurities.

“So.. you’re alive. Does that mean we’ll get our happy ending? Get married… maybe have kids?” He looks up at you with pleading eyes, even if he knows you agree. You got these promise rings and you’d talked about your happy ending a whole lot. Should you be thinking that far ahead? Whenever you thought about the future, all you saw was Peter as your husband.

“Everything we’ve talked about. Yes.” You sit up a bit, which confuses Peter for a second until you pull him onto your lap and pepper kisses all over his face. It’s something you commonly do when talking about stuff like that.

“I missed this.” Peter mumbled. “But I do have one question, well, maybe a couple.”

“Ask away.”

“You were buried with the ring, so what happened with the grave?” You grimace, which makes Peter giggle in anticipation for the obviously chaotic story you’re about to tell.

“I dunno what happened, but it exploded. When I woke up the casket was broken and the dirt above it was scattered everywhere. Might have messed up other graves, hopefully the dead don’t come after me.” Speaking of which, you rub a little dirt smudge off your ring.

“Did it happen at the hospital, too?”

“No.” You shake your head, gazing off as you think about it. “Maybe it’s my powers looking after me. After all, I wouldn’t love being buried alive.”

Peter winces at the thought. “Right. Wouldn’t your powers mean that you’re immortal?”

“Yeah…” You frown, pressing a kiss on Peter’s nose to reassure the both of you, maybe more for yourself. “I would be, and I’d be very lonely too. Damn, never thought about that.” 

Peter pulls your hand up to his lips to kiss your ring. “Then live for me, just as I did for like a week.”

“A week? It’s been that long?” You scratch your head. “It was a few hours at the hospital. Maybe it’s cause of how brutal that dude beat me.” You shiver, remembering the pain you’d felt right before your death. “Has it made the news?”

“Yea. It’s like a movie now.” Peter laughs. “Fighting crime while the criminals think you’re a ghost. Wait.. wouldn’t that mean you’d have to hide your identity? I’d be alone with school, nobody to defend me from flash? Man, that’d suck.”

“Unfortunately. Although the crime fighting part is fun, the rest would be awful. Well, I could get a new identity. That cool haircut I’ve always wanted, a new cool name like… I don’t know, Remy?”

Peter laughs loudly, “Remy is not a cool name!”

“Hey, don’t hate on the Ratatouille rat.”

[rmtndew]

Begin Again ~ Chapter 3

Summary: Walter Marshall is a dedicated homicide detective doing his best to balance his work life with being a single father to a teenage girl. Fiona Sparks is a woman doing her best to take care of everyone and everything around her, except for herself. Neither has had the best luck with relationships, but once they meet, they’re willing to give it another shot, this time with each other. (It’s basically just romantic fluff) 

Pairing: Marshall and OFC.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Mentions of death, cancer.

A/N - This is a sequel to ‘All I’ve Ever Known’. I started writing this because I needed an escape for some personal stuff going on and my coping mechanism included giving Marshall all the love that man needed, and imagining him being the softest boyfriend to me, then passing those details on to Fiona (my OFC).

I also made a Spotify playlist for this story, if anyone is interested - Begin Again Playlist 

Tag list - @hollydaisy23​, @alyxkbrl​, @onlyhenrys​, @omgkatinka​, @speakerforthedead0​​, @gearhead66​,  @thethirstyarchive​, @oddsnendsfanfics​, @littlerinoa​, @agniavateira​, @aaescritora​, @justaboringadult​, @beenthroughalot​, @seriouslygoodlookinggents​, @xxxkatxo​,  @musicartmayheminmyheart​

If you want to be added/removed from the tag list, let me know!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

Hectic was the only word to describe the next morning. From the moment I stepped foot into Darcy’s office at Waverly, we were going non-stop. We had a massive delivery that had to be ready by eleven o’clock and even though we’d done as much prep work as we could the day before, it was still a huge undertaking for a single morning. Our saving grace was that the company was sending someone to pick it up for them instead of having it delivered, which meant we could work right until pickup time. And that’s exactly what we did. 

We had all the orders boxed up and ready to go, and Nick and I waited in the front room of the store for the pickup guy. Nick’s sole purpose for being there was to make up for his mistake from the day before: his punishment was to help with the loading.

I was double-checking the order (just for my own sake) when I heard the bell above the door alert me to someone coming in. I turned, mentally preparing myself for social interaction, knowing that I had to greet the customer with a smile. But as I took in the man walking towards me, I felt like puking. 

“Fiona? Is that you?” Ezra, my ex-boyfriend, was smiling and walking towards me.

I didn’t answer him. Instead, I steeled myself and asked, “Are you here for the Mead-Holmes order?”

“Come on, Fi, don’t play like this,” he said, stopping far too close to me. 

“Don’t call me that,” I said. “And what order are you here for?”

He put his hand on my arm. “Fi, I swear I didn’t know you worked here. I promise. Or I wouldn’t have come,” he said. “But maybe it’s a good thing.”

I took his hand off me, removing it completely. “Don’t touch me. Don’t call me Fi. Just tell me what order you’re here to get,” I said, keeping my voice as calm as I could manage.

He scoffed. “Wow. I really thought you’d be an adult about it whenever we finally ran into each other, but I was wrong.” 

Nick stepped up. “Hey, I don’t mean to interrupt but I’m here to help load the Mead-Holmes order, so if you’re here to pick that up, you can go ahead and sign off on it and show me where you’re at and I’ll get these loaded for you.”

Ezra kept his eyes on me while Nick was talking and then a moment longer once he finished. Finally, he looked at Nick and let out a breath. “Yeah, that’s my order,” he said. “Where do I sign for it?”

Nick moved behind me, taking the clipboard with the order form from the counter, then handed it to Ezra. He scribbled out something that was meant to be a signature, but I was sure that a brain dead parrot would have had more legible handwriting. Nick had his hand out, ready to take the clipboard back, but instead, Ezra thrust it at me. I took it, trying not to give him the satisfaction of letting him see a reaction on my face. 

“Thank you. A copy of the receipt is attached to the order and will be e-mailed back to your company. We appreciate your business,” I said. “Now, if you would show Nick to your vehicle, he would be more than willing to help you load your order.” 

He took a set of keys from his pocket, aimed over his shoulder, and pressed a button. The van parked right outside the door beeped and the lights flashed temporarily as he unlocked it. “You can load them in the back,” Ezra said to Nick, not bothering to even look at him. 

“Have a good day,” I said flatly, then turned to leave. I didn’t even take a step before he put his hand back on my arm again. My entire body tensed up. “Ezra, let me go.”

“You’re really just going to walk off without talking to me?”

“I did talk to you, but there’s nothing left to say except let me go.”

He removed his hand, then circled around so he was in front of me. “I’m here on business and you’re supposed to be representing your company. Being rude to me isn’t a great way to treat customers.” 

I placed the clipboard on the counter and crossed my arms, trying to keep them out of his reach, then took a side step, allowing Nick access to the boxes stacked beside me. “I’m not being rude.”

He smiled condescendingly at me. “Look, I know that we ended on some...rough terms, but I hoped that when we finally saw each other, we could recognize it was for the best.”

“It was for the best,” I agreed. 

“See? That’s my girl.”

My jaw clenched as my hands balled into fists. “I’m not your girl. I’m not your anything,” I said. “The reason I think breaking up was for the best is because I didn’t want to waste any more of my time with someone so shallow, and cold, and selfish as you. And the moment you finally revealed that part of yourself to me, the moment you showed me exactly who you are, I was done.” I shook my head. “The one good thing about you being as heartless as you were, was that I never spent a single second worrying about what I did wrong, or how I could have fixed things between us. I never cried myself to sleep at night missing you. Most people who have toxic partners don’t get a clean cut at the end of a relationship like I did. But that day at South York, when you broke up with me all of ten seconds after I’d told you that Dad had been in a wreck, you cauterized that line between us. So yeah; it was for the best.”

Nick made a low whistling sound right before leaving the store, the bell overhead echoing him. 

“You know, it’s a little irritating that you always bring up this crap about ending things after your dad’s accident, but would you have preferred me to wait until after you knew that he was dead? Would that have made it easier? No,” he said. “I did you a favor. It was like a Band-Aid. I pulled it off quickly and got it over with. But you don’t see it like that, do you?” 

“I’m not sure if you understand the definition of ‘quick’ but talking about it for the full twenty-minute drive to the hospital, where you basically kicked me out on the sidewalk, isn’t it,” I said. 

“Do you hear yourself, Fi? You’re happy that I broke up with you, but oh, I should have held your hand and walked you into the hospital? Why so your mommy could yell at me then, too? Even you have to admit that was embarrassing, having Ava yell at me for you.” 

My fists tightened, my fingernails biting into my skin. I’d never been so tempted to smack anyone my whole life. “I didn’t have her do anything. She was plenty mad enough to do it on her own. It was her husband who had just died when you dumped all of my stuff on her front lawn because seeing it was ‘too painful’ for you.”

“Well, rumor has it, it’s your house again now.” He took a step closer to me. “That you got fired and had to move back in with her.” He smirked. “Is that what happened, Fi? I wouldn’t marry you so you had to move back in with your mommy so someone would take care of you?”

The bell over the door rang again. I was expecting Nick to come over for more boxes and give me a way to escape, but he didn’t. 

“Stop calling me Fi!” I snapped. “You don’t get to call me that anymore. Now I suggest you take your order and leave.”

He frowned at me mockingly. “Aw, am I making you mad? You’re so cute when you’re mad. You finally do that red hair justice,” he said. “You know, if you’d shown this much passion when we were together, I might have actually considered marrying you.”

“Thank goodness I dodged that bullet then.” 

The humor left his face. “Whoever gets you next, they better like broken things.” 

I looked him in the eye. “Do you honestly think you were strong enough to break me, Ezra?” I asked. “The only thing you could break were promises.” 

He sneered at me, then let his eyes drift behind me. I was sure that he was looking at Nick, wondering how much of his true personality he was going to let a stranger see, but then I felt a wall of heat behind me. I turned my head and saw Walter. Comfort flooded my body the moment he was at my side. 

“Is everything okay?” he asked, looking down at me. 

I nodded. “He was just leaving.”

Ezra took a step back. His mouth was in a thin, tight line as he looked Marshall up and down. “Are you the owner?” he asked. “Because I’m here for an order and your employee here -” He crossed his arms and nodded his head at me. “- she needs to work on her customer service skills.”

“I’m not the owner. But I’m fairly sure she told you to leave.”

Ezra looked confused. I watched in his eyes as he tried to work out what was going on. “If you’re not the owner, then our conversation has nothing to do with you. You have no reason to intervene.”

“I’m here for Fiona. And how you’re talking to her, it isn’t acceptable. She’s asked you to leave, so if you’re here for an order, I suggest you take it and go,” Marshall said. He spoke slowly and deliberately, but each word was laced with anger. 

Ezra smiled. “Are you serious? You’re with her?” He laughed, shaking his head. “Good luck to you. You’ll never be able to please her.”

“From what I understand, you never really tried,” Marshall said. 

“Is that what she told you?” Ezra looked at me again. “You’re always the victim, aren’t you? You poor little bird,” he said mockingly. “Maybe one day you’ll grow up and see the truth.”

“You know, this immature gas-lighting bull crap that you and Demi both pull, it’s getting old,” I said. 

He smirked. “Speaking of Demi, the next time you see her, tell her that I found her earrings. They were in my couch.”

I knew what he was trying to do and I wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of succeeding. 

“So you had the audacity to dump my belongings on a dead man’s lawn, but you don’t have the guts to return some earrings that she allegedly left at your place?” I asked. “But I’m the immature one. Sure.” 

He was angry that I hadn’t taken the bait. He pushed his hair back from his face aggressively and stepped back from me. “I hope your boss realizes that you just lost a big client,” he said, then started walking away. 

“Did we? Because I’m pretty sure that the company is called Mead-Holmes, not Mead-Holmes and Williams,” I said, turning and calling after him. “And I’ve never heard of a partner or CEO fetching lunch for his company. It seems to me that you’re just an errand boy.”

He stopped dead in his tracks, then slowly turned back around. He opened his mouth but didn’t get a chance to speak. 

“Don’t say another word. Just turn around and keep walking,” Walter said, putting himself slightly in front of me. “Or I can escort you out. It’s your decision.” 

Ezra looked from Marshall to me and I could see him trying to decide if he was going to back down and listen or try to get the last word in. Eventually, he made the smart choice for once and left, shoving past Nick, who was returning to the store, then climbed into his van, slamming the door hard enough to make his windshield wipers jump. 

Marshall turned to me, blocking my view of Ezra. His face was softer, his eyes holding worry. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” 

I let out a breath. It was shaky. My whole body was tense. “No, actually. I’m angry. I can’t believe he had the nerve to come in here and act like that.”

“What do you need me to do for you?”

I blinked. It was a simple question, but it wasn’t one I was used to hearing. It felt like it took me a long time to unwrap it in my mind. Finally, I shook my head. “I don’t know,” I admitted.

“You should take a break,” Nick said. He was loading another portion of the order onto his cart. “I’ll tell Aunt Darcy what happened as soon as I’m done. She’ll understand.” 

I chewed my lip for a moment, mulling it over before finally relenting. “Okay. Thank you,” I said to Nick. Then to Marshall, “Would you come with me?” 

He nodded. “Where do you want to go?”

I led him through the store and out the back door, into the employee parking lot. The moment we stepped outside, the cold air hit me. I gasped. I hadn’t thought to get my coat from Darcy’s office. Walter noticed. 

“It’s cold,” he said, taking off his coat. “Put this on.”

I shivered but shook my head. “No, I can’t take it from you.”

“Yes, you can.” He placed it over my shoulders and held it on me until I finally put my arms through the sleeves, then he pulled it closed in the front. It swallowed me whole. He smiled at me. “Perfect fit.”

I smiled back. “It’s pretty cozy. Thank you,” I said. “But I feel bad that you don’t have one now.”

“I guess I’ll just have to stay close to you for warmth,” he joked. He slid his hands inside the coat and placed them on my hips. Instinctively, my arms went around his neck. We looked like we were dancing, even though we were standing still. His smile grew. “Just like this.” He kissed the top of my head before pressing his forehead to mine. “Do you want to talk about what happened or do you want to forget it?”

I let out a breath. “I don’t - I don’t know.” I let my fingers wander into the hair at the nape of his neck, gently playing with his curls. “That was my ex. I haven’t seen him in two years. Part of me...a big part of me, just wants to forget about him, erase him from my memory and never think about him again,” I said. “But another part of me wants to go yank him out of his van and throw him to the ground and stomp his stupid teeth in. And I hate it because he’s the only person who makes me feel that way.”

“Do you want me to talk to him? The gun and badge tend to make people listen to me.”

I smiled but shook my head. “No. I just want you to stay right here with me,” I said. “Please.”

He didn’t say anything, he only nodded, moving my head slightly with his as he did. Then I closed my eyes as I tried to breathe calmly and let go of the anger that Ezra had stirred up in me. With every passing second, Marshall took over and pushed out any lingering pieces of Ezra. The heat of his hands melted away all remembrances of Ezra’s cold, clammy touch that always had an ulterior motive. The scent of him, clean and full of coffee, chased away the smell of expensive cologne that had always been applied too liberally. His presence was comforting and enveloping, not demanding and suffocating. It was like I’d been trapped in a burning building, inhaling smoke, and Walter was my first breath of fresh air and my lungs were screaming for him.

I opened my eyes and saw him looking at me. I blinked and it suddenly hit me that there must have been a reason for him being there and I’d been so caught up in myself that I hadn’t even thought to ask. I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“I’m...I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “I doubt you came here for all of this.”

His hands tightened, pulling me closer. “I came here for you.”

“What did you need me to do?”

He smiled, just the corner of his mouth turned up. “Nothing.” I must have looked confused because he laughed softly. “I just wanted to see you,” he said. “I thought I might be able to take you for coffee?” 

I felt my heart swell. My fingers pushed further into his hair, sinking to his scalp. Lightly I scratched my nails against it. He closed his eyes and sighed. “How did I get so lucky to meet you?”

His eyes stayed closed as he leaned back into my touch. “I’m pretty sure I’m the lucky one.” 

“Mom, I’m home,” I called out as I walked through the door that evening. “I picked up dinner, too.”

“Already in the kitchen,” Mom called back.

I kicked off my shoes by the door, then went to the kitchen. Mom was at the table, papers spread everywhere in front of her as she wrote on a legal pad. One set of reading glasses sat perched on her nose, while another hung around her neck on a chain. 

“So...what’cha doin’?” I asked slowly, standing in the doorway.

She looked up at me and over the rim of her glasses. “Last night, June mentioned that since I was sick on her’s, mine, and Aunt Rose’s birthday, it would be fun for the three of us to go away for the weekend and celebrate. So -” She indicated to the layers of paper in front of her. “I’m planning the trip.”

“A trip to where?” I asked. “What kind of weekend getaways call for this type of planning?”

She shook her head. “No, see, I looked up a few places, printed off a list of all their attractions, restaurants, hotels, what have you, and now I’m making a list of each with pros-cons and prices for them all, then we can decide from there.” She waved her hand dismissively over the papers. “This is all getting condensed. I’m not giving them an entire booklet.”

“So, when Dad said that you were a teacher’s pet, this is the kind of thing he was talking about. Right?” 

“I wasn’t a teacher’s pet; I just like being thorough. There’s nothing wrong with that.” She stood and started clearing the table. “Those are pretty,” she said, nodding to the vase of flowers in my hand. “Where did they come from?” 

“Marshall gave them to me.” 

“He sent you flowers at work? That was sweet.”

“Actually, he didn’t send them. He took me out to coffee and bought them for me afterward,” I said, carrying the vase and takeout bag to the counter and setting them down. 

“He saw you last night, and you have a date planned for Saturday, but he asked you out for coffee today?” she asked. 

I turned to look at her and leaned back against the counter. I couldn’t help my smile. “He said he just wanted to see me.” 

“I think this one might be a keeper, Fi.”

I laughed. “I think so, too,” I said. “Today was very nearly a dumpster fire and he extinguished it.” 

She looked concerned. “What do you mean? What went wrong?” 

“So, the big order we had today? Ezra was the one who picked it up.”

She paused her cleaning. “What?” 

“Yeah. I was there to get the driver to sign off on the order, so I had to talk to him. I was hoping - a little naively, I guess - that we could just keep it simple and professional, but unfortunately that didn’t happen,” I said. “I tried walking away and he followed me, essentially saying that everything that had happened between us was my fault. He said that it was pathetic that you yelled at him after we broke up, making it sound like I’d had you do it for me. And then insinuated that he and Demi were having an affair, or they’re currently sleeping together now. I’m not sure. He was trying to upset me, but I don’t know if it was the truth or not. I didn’t fall for it and ask.”  

“Well, if Demi is dumb enough to get involved with him after everything she saw him put you through, then she deserves what she gets,” she said. “And if he thought it was pathetic that I yelled at him, what did he think about throwing your stuff out on our lawn two hours after your father died? Is that not beyond pathetic?” 

I shook my head. “I genuinely think he’s too narcissistic to even consider himself at fault. He said he got it over with quick for me.” 

She rolled her eyes. “How kind of him,” she deadpanned. 

“Then Marshall came in -”

Her eyes widened. “He came in while Ezra was there?” she asked, interrupting me. I nodded. “What did he do?”

“He told Ezra that how he was talking to me was unacceptable and that he needed to leave. Then he took me outside so that I could calm down, and once Ezra left, Darcy let me have an early break and he took me out for coffee and bought me flowers to cheer me up.”

“Oh, Bird. He really is a keeper, isn’t he?” 

I put my hand over my chest and felt my heart speed up thinking about him holding me in the parking lot, telling me that he was the lucky one. I let out a sigh and nodded. “Yeah. He really is, Mom.” 

That night Walter called me like he said he would. I’d always been rather bad at phone calls and even he had admitted that anything outside of work calls was out of his comfort zone, but for the three and a half hours that we talked, it didn’t seem that way. I lay in bed and talked to him like he was right there. Like we’d known each other forever. We only hung up because I started drifting off. He joked that he was boring me, but I tried to assure him that it was far from that. His voice was calming and soothing and every bit as warm as he was. Sleepily I told him that he was like sitting in front of the fireplace on a rainy day with a cup of tea. He laughed but said as long as he got to sit at the fireplace beside me, he didn’t mind the comparison. 

I slept better that night than I had in months.

[chayacat]

Devil’s Sweet Star (5)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader  

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut  

***

The days are the same and fortunately for you, no further attempted aggression has been committed on you. But it's not the police you have to thank for that, but just yourself. Because when you tried to file a complaint against your attacker, all the police were able to tell you was that there was nothing they could do. Because as you bear no stigma, no trace of blow ... there would be no point in filing a complaint. You sigh just by thinking about it, decidedly the mentality of some police officers will always surprise you. You really wonder what criteria they are recruited on.  

While you were serving a few clients, your gaze was slowly moving towards Jed, leaning over those drafts blackened by his pencil. God he’s beautiful when he is focused... something about him attracts you when he's in that state. But now is not the time to be lost in your thoughts! Let's stay professional first! you walk towards him a tea in hand that you lay on the table, bringing him out of his concentration. He gave you a smile, that angelic smile that could melt all hearts. We remain professional I said!

“I think it'll do you the greatest good, three coffees in a row could turn you into a ball of nerve. always immersed in your research about this ... Hoggins?” You said looking down to the papers.

“Yeah, I need to know a couple of things about him for this reception...so I could more easily slip into the crowd and rummage through his stuff without him noticing anything. Can you imagine if I find anything compromising about this story? This will create the biggest scandal this city... this state has never known.” he responds with some enthusiasm.

“You could also be killed so no one knows. That Hoggins is a very influent man. He could hire someone to kill you and your peers, like that bastard... Forget it. I can’t believe what the police told me... What are they waiting for? that I'm dying to act?”  

“This the reason why I rather fend for myself and solve problems in my own way. and that's what I plan to do with Mike. he thinks he can belittle me and hit me with impunity, he is seriously mistaken. I'll take the time it takes, but one day I'll give him back the blows he'll take from me.” He replies putting his glasses back.  

“Well, not so shy as I thought after all.”

“I am someone who interacts with people based on how they act with me. If they put me lower than earth ... I do the same.”  

He sipped his tea while putting a little order on the table. You can't help but look at his piercing blue eyes, so attractive, that's what makes all his charm, his major asset. When they stared at you, you feel your cheeks blush slightly and with a little embarrassed laugh, you get up and start heading to the counter ready to welcome new customers.

“You know...” Jed starts making you stop and turn to him. “I was thinking... that you could go with me to this reception. If I say you're with me, I don't think it's going to be a problem.” he said with a little smile.  

“What?? Me?? Jed I... It’s really nice of you but...I’m not a journalist and even less a girl from high society. I wouldn't feel like I belong there. And then I might embarrass you in your work...I don’t know if it’s a really good idea.” you answer putting a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Why not? I'm going to have a good night at this reception too. But knowing Melina and Mattew, they're going to go their own way and leave me alone lost in the middle of people I don't know. So, if I can share it with a friend... And chat with someone I like and know... I'd rather you came.”  

“Well...okay. Thanks Jed. I appreciate that you've thinking about me.”

The door opened and a woman entered the café. Given the outfit she was wearing, she was either working in the office or she was a businesswoman. But a horrible thrill pierced you when you saw in the distance Mc Kellan a smile on the corner. Whoever this woman is, this scumbag knows her for sure.

“Are you the owner of The Nebula?” said the woman by looking around her.

“Yes. Can I help you?” you answer a little worried.

“Let me introduce myself: Mrs Alice Milton. Hygiene inspector. Mr. Kellan has informed me that you are not complying with certain health measures and I am here to check. You don't mind, do you?

“No... Not at all.” you said, trying to stay calm.  

Mrs Milton began to do his inspection. She checked every table, every seat, every window. No object escaped his gaze. Then she went to the back shop to check the reserves and worktops. She wrote down two or three things on her notebook and went on.

You observe her, the fear in your stomach, trembling slightly to the simple fact that she could make fall the cleaver on you. You suddenly feel a hand resting on your shoulder, it was Jed's. He gave you a big smile to reassure you, calm your fears and make you understand that whatever she says, he will help you.

Mrs. Milton put away her belongings without saying a word, then left the café to go to McKellan. From the counter you could see them chatting, Mc Kellan didn't look happy and the young woman tried to calm him down. You'd like to be a pigeon or a fly to find out what they're telling each other.

Suddenly you see Mc Kellan driving away without Mrs. Milton. This one came back to the café but for some reason, you feel more comfortable...as if she were just becoming a customer like the others. And this was confirmed when she smiled at you, a reassuring smile, a friendly smile.  

“You can breathe now, he's gone. I'm sorry I did this with you. But I had to stay professional in front of him. You are not Horace's first victim. Can I?” She said, looking at Jed’s table.  

“Sure.” Jed simply said.

“You look like... not to appreciate him either.” you said while keeping your distance.

“Not really. Horace trusts very few people. He's a very selfish man. Who wants to impose his laws and his manners on everyone. and as soon as someone dares to oppose him... He's calling on me to ‘make the vermin flow’. As I said, you’re not the first one on his list, and you won’t be the last.”

“I have no doubt about that. Coffee?” you ask her before filling her a cup when she nodded. “What did you say to him? Outside.”

“That I found nothing. And as always, he was upset. I said I'll continue my search...But don’t worry I won't do anything. On the other hand, be careful, He’s not likely to give up so easily. And if he gets more upset, he'll make you killing and throwing in Dry Creek.”

Jed says nothing but Danny burns internally, if someone has the right to kill you...It’s him and ONLY him. That's one more reason to kill McKellan. This guy is not only dangerous for you, but for Danny's reputation. There can only be one killer here and Danny is not the type to share the scene. Danny has no choice. He has to get rid of Mc Kellan first. Mike can wait a bit.  

“What can I do?” you ask worried.  

“Do nothing toward him. Everything you do, he’ll turn it against you. And he’ll get what he wants. I suggest you to protect yourself. Or at least not to be alone in case he'll send you another assailant. Always have something to defend yourself. Or someone.” said Mrs Milton.

You nodded and after a few minutes of conversation, Mrs Milton leaves the coffee, wishing you good luck. You clean Jed's table, who was tidying up his belongings, getting ready to leave. He wrote something on a sheet which he handed you with a little smile. You tilt your head to the side, an eyebrow raised.

“My phone number, in case you’ll need something. Or just want to talk.” He said.  

“Jed come on...I can...” you start to answer before seeing he’s insisting. You sight, taking the sheet on your hand. “Fine...Thanks Jed. I’ll owe you one. More than one in fact.”

“I know you’ll help me someday. So, don’t worry. Oh and... I love your praline and coconut cake. A strange but very interesting mix.” he said before leaving, weaving his hand with that angelic smile on his face.

The rest of the day took place and it must be admitted that it was quite sporty. It's hard to handle so many people on your own. But until you have some financial stability, you can't hire someone at the moment. After your usual closing ritual, you go home. Next goal:  buys a pepper spray or a small knife, just in case.

You pick up your mail and go back to your apartment. What a relief to finally be at home. You put your belongings on the couch, the letters in a bowl dedicated to your mail and you head to the kitchen. Family's photos decorated some walls of the apartment reviving wonderful memories... But also, painful wounds. Homemade carbonara pasta for the evening will suit perfectly. it is rare that you take industrial products. As you put all the ingredients on the worktop, the phone rang.

Who can call you at this hour? You don't remember giving someone your landline number since you arrived. You ignore the call and go back to your business when it rang again. Someone's really trying to reach you. You take the handset of the phone determined to know who can call you at this time. Every time, it's a number error.

“Hello? Who’s on the phone?” you said.

“Oh. You're not my aunt. Sorry I got the wrong number.” respond the other person on the phone.  

Jackpot.

“It doesn't matter, it happens to everyone. Good night.” you replied as start to hang up.  

“Wait, wait!  Can... can we talk a little bit more? I never heard such a beautiful voice like yours before.”  

“Quite a charmer, are you? Well, if you want. if it can make you happy.” You answer with a little laugh.

“Thanks. It's rare for people who take the time to chat with strangers on the phone. Usually, they hang up immediately or never respond. Nice shirt by the way.”  

" well, it's usually rare to answer numbers that...” You start before realizing what he said last. “excuse me...What did you just say?”

“I said nice shirt. Purple suits you well.”

“H-how do you know that?”  

“... Raise your head.”

You gradually raise your head and face the building in front of yours. In the window that faced yours, you see him. A man with a white mask was there, tilting his head waving his hand to say hello.

“See me now?” He chuckles.

“Who the f*** are you ??” You respond even if you already know the answer.  

“What a lovely language...Well, I'm sure you already know the answer but if you insist. You can call me: Ghostface. I think I'm gonna call you...”

“what do you want?”

“Just talk. As I said, I never heard such a beautiful voice before...and never see such a pretty face like yours too.”

“call a prostitute if you want to chat, you freaking weirdo.” You replied ready to hang up.

“Tsk tsk. No no no my little star...if you hang up...you won’t see the sun rise tomorrow. Or your dear nerdy friend won’t see it.”

“Leave Jed alone! It’s between you and me! if you dare to touch him, I swear...” you say angrily before hearing him laugh.  

“Calm down my sweet little star... The truth is, I don't intend to touch him. It is thanks to him that I have acquired this beautiful but sinister reputation. He makes me the star of Roseville. We need each other. But let's talk about you. I must admit that I find it difficult to understand how such beauty as you live in such city. You must have a good reason.”

“It’s none of your business. I can ask you the same thing.”

“Well, I want to leave a trace in this miserable world. I want everyone remember my name. But for that I have to move across all the country. You know what? I'm going to let you live for now. But I advise you not to tell the police about our little conversation. It will pain me a lot to disfigure such a pretty face ... and a pretty body. And don't worry, we'll meet again. Good night my sweet little star... Have a beautiful dream.” He said chuckling before hanging up.  

You hang up the phone on the table and when you look back at the window, he was gone. Like a shadow in the night. You take a deep breathe, rubbing your face in your hands and sit on the sofa. Deep down, you felt that sooner or later you would face him. But not so quickly. Fortunately for you, he is not determined to make you a new victim of his macabre round. But for how long? you hope for as late as possible.

Unknowingly, my dear little star you fell into the spider's web. Without knowing it you have caught the attention of the devil.  

And that's just the beginning.

***

(Done! I'm glad to see you like it! And I hope it will continue! By the way I recently watched The Boy and discovered that dear Brahms~ And I must confess that he does not leave me indifferent. What a lovely British accent he has~ See ya! )  

[sailorbellewrites]

No Limit

characters— seokjin x reader (ft. members of bts)

summary— you and jungkook don’t even look alike. how was seokjin supposed to know you were off limits?

information— one shot. bakery!au. features less puns than you would think. i am still very new to writing smut, so be kind in that regard. if this gets a lot of love, might be continued in the future.

warnings—adult language; smut; mild violence; awkward situations; super hopeless seokjin.

no limit—

So it starts like this:

Jungkook has been talking about his older sister moving to Seoul for a couple of weeks now and Seokjin doesn’t really believe him because in the 2 years that he’s known the college senior, he’s never mentioned having a sister, just an older brother. The young man only has pictures of his mom hung up in his apartment and all requests to see what the girl looks like have been met with a stern shake of his head. Taehyung has never seen the girl either, says Jungkook doesn’t like to talk about her and he doesn’t know why. He’s heard the girl over the phone though and says she sounds, “cute.” And while Namjoon is certainly right in saying it would be weird for Jungkook to make up having a sister, Seokjin thinks Jungkook is just a weird enough person to do it.

“She’s coming today, hyung,” Jungkook says one Wednesday afternoon, too much energy radiating off of him. He’s dressed much nicer that normal, no holes in his jeans and a long sleeved shirt covering most of his tattoos. He even got a haircut, something he hadn’t had in a while. Jungkook can’t stand still, constantly wiping down the counters and rearranging the cupcakes in the display case. Seokjin gets so sick of his constant movement that he sends him to the kitchen to knead dough. “Okay, but hyung, if she comes in you have to let me know.”

“I don’t know what she looks like.”

He sighs deep, the sound almost morphing into a whine. “She’s probably gonna be wearing something bright or she’ll just ask for me! Seokjin please!”

“Fine, fine. Now get to the back, you’re making everyone uncomfortable. You’re gonna make me go outta business.”

When you walk in wearing a bright red coat, Seokjin doesn’t make the connection. You look around the shop for a bit and Seokjin is stunned because goddamn you’re beautiful. It’s like a movie, the white lights of the shop forming a halo around you and everything slows to a crawl. You make it to the register, eyes widening at the chocolate donut pyramid displayed behind Seokjin and he knows he’s fucked. “Hi,” you say and, yup, Seokjin is super fucked.

“I... Hi-I mean… Welcome to Baking News! How can I bake your day?” And the recovery isn’t as smooth as he would have liked it to be, but you still laugh way too hard at the puns and his heart swells.

“You’re funny,” you state earnestly. “I’m actually not here to buy anything, though. I’m looking for my brother.”

“Your brother?” Seokjin asks dumbfounded, because he would definitely know if anybody worked for him that looked like you.

“Yeah! He’s tall and skinny. Oh and he has really big teeth. He kind of looks like a rabbit when he smiles.” All of the air leaves Seokjin’s lungs because there is no fucking way you are Jeon Jungkook’s sister. You guys look nothing alike—hell, it’s questionable if you're even from Korea, that’s how different you look. But then Jungkook comes scrambling out of the kitchen and over the counter screaming “Noona!” like he’s a character in a goddamn cartoon. And you wrap yourself around him like a python, hugging him so tight that his face turns red. “There’s my bunny boy,” you squeal and Jungkook plants a big sloppy kiss on your cheek and—

“Holy shit, he does have a sister.”

.

.

Okay, so you’re not Jungkook’s real sister. He’s just weirdly obsessed with you and keeps calling you his sister, but you’re not his sister. At least that’s the conclusion Seokjin comes up with because you don’t have the same surname and you don’t look alike and you tell him that you haven’t lived in Korea in over five years. You share that tidbit of information over coffee two weeks after your arrival, pink scarf wrapped gently around your neck in a way that Seokjin deems more flattering than it should be. You share a lot of information with him in the time that you’ve been back, always coming into the bakery to get the first sugary treat you can get your hands on.

“Bunny boy tells me you make the best lattes this side of Seoul,” you tell him one rainy Thursday morning, leaned up against the counter. The bakery is empty except for you two, the usual morning rush having filtered out quickly due to the inclemete weather. Seokjin snorts because you always call Jungkook ‘bunny boy,’ even on days like today when he’s not here and it’s so cute the way the words come out of your mouth. They tumble out so effortlessly, whereas Seokjin can’t go two minutes without stuttering over himself while talking to you. So he just snorts because it’s easier to make sounds than it is to form words when you’re staring up at him like he’s the most interesting man in the world. “Is it true, Jinnie?”

“Jinnie?” He asks incredulously, because you’ve never called him anything other than Seokjin.

“Cute name for a cute boy,” you say with a shrug, as if it’s obvious. It’s not 

His mouth is moving before he can stop it. “Cute? You think I’m cute? Just cute?”

“Yeah, why?” You chirp out with a sly smirk. Seokjin’s heart stops—but his mouth does not.

“I’ll have you know, I’m not just cute. I’m handsome. In fact, I’m one of the most handsome men in the world. Have you ever seen a face more handsome than mine? More beautiful than mine? I know you lived abroad for a while and have seen a lot of attractive men walking around, but I promise you that this face right here is better. This face should be on billboards all over the world.” This isn’t the first time that Seokjin’s gone off on this tangent, of course. Everyone has heard it before, taking the comedy bravado for what it is and laughing him off. But when he says it to you, it feels like he’s marketing himself. He doesn’t want you to laugh him off. He wants you to believe him.

Your head lolls to the side as he speaks, as though you are fully taking his words into consideration, and when he finishes, you grin. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, Mr. Worldwide Handsome, do you really make the best lattes?” And Seokjin’s heart starts to constrict because even though your tone is teasing, your eyes are so sincere. He nods. You laugh. He’s fucked.

But he’s even more fucked because he can’t act on his attraction. Jungkook is scarily protective of you. He always seems to know where you are and who you’re with. He glares at any guy who looks at you for more than 10 seconds and shoves his hoodies over you if you’re showing too much skin. You mention downloading Tinder one Wednesday evening and the younger man nearly passes out. However, everyone’s accusations of him having a crush on you were met with immediate disgust because you’re his “sister.” In fact, he claimed on multiple occasions that you were the most despicable human being he’s ever met. “I pray that whoever I end up with is the exact opposite of my sister,” he mumbled one Sunday afternoon, frosting cupcakes in the kitchen. “She’s so fucking annoying. She doesn’t listen to anyone, no matter what they say. I don’t see how anyone could be attracted to her.”

“Ah, I don’t know man, I think she’s pretty cute.” Taehyung responded in jest, setting the completed cupcakes on a display pan.

“Stay the hell away from my sister you creep.” Jungkook all but growled out.

“Wow, the baby sounds serious,” Seokjin stated incredulously. “I didn’t know you could care about anyone other than yourself.”

“Shut up,” Jungkook replied, slightly embarrassed at being called out yet again for his so called selfish behavior. “She may be the worst woman I know, but she’s still my sister. I gotta make sure she’s well taken care of.”

“And you think I won’t do that?” Taehyung asked with faux shock. “I’m hurt.”

“Not a single one of you are good enough for my sister. She needs a doctor or a lawyer or someone super rich who can take care of her so she never has to work again. You guys all suck.” He stands up straight to admire his work before stating, with a frightening amount of cool, “If any of you guys tried it with her, I would kill you with my bare hands.”

So Seokjin tries his best to stay away from you. He attempts to keep his banter light, lessen his affection. He hopes to himself that you lose interest in the bakery, in the coffee, in him, but it’s difficult. You’re so easy to talk to. You think he’s funny, cracking up at all of his puns to the point of tears. When he winks at you, you smile so wide that he thinks your face might break. He falls harder for you every day.

It’s you that makes the first move though. It’s a balmy Friday night when you stalk in. Thirty minutes before closing, the bakery is empty except for two struggling rappers who loaded up on the discounted pastries that would otherwise get thrown away. You’re dressed up more than he’s ever seen you before, so much so that you look out of place standing next to the pastel pink sign touting the new peanut butter tira-miss-yous in your purple dress. “Well if it isn’t my favorite customer. What are you doing here so late at night?” Seokjin asks as you continue towards the counter.

“Bad date.” You mutter, before surprising Seokjin by pulling yourself up on top of the counter.

“Hey, who said you could sit up here? Didn’t anyone raise you with respect? That’s filthy! My sweets go up here.”

“I’m sweeter,” You quip and Seokjin chokes. You shift your body to face him a bit more. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Y-you—you can’t—Jungkook was right, you are disgusting.” He manages to stutter out, mind reeling at the thought of how sweet you actually were. “I have to clean that now. Get down.”

You ignore his request. “A pretty girl throws herself on a table in front of you talking about how sweet she is and you’re worried about cleanliness? Taehyung was right, you really are hopeless.”

He blanches. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You sigh, unmoving. “So bunny boy sets me up on this date right? He says it’s with one of his good friends who really inspires him. Someone that has helped him out a lot. I get excited because I think that it’s you. I mean, you literally gave him a job. How much more help can he get from one person? So I get all dressed up and ready to go only to have someone else show up at my door. And don’t get me wrong, the guy was attractive but he wasn’t you. He didn’t even make a single pun the entire time when there were plenty of opportunities to do so. He was so boring, Jinnie. Like, what do business lawyers really do anyways? The guy told me he hoped I had a good time, but I didn’t. So I decided to come here looking for an actual good time.”

“I… what?” Seokjin asks, unable to accept what you were implying.

“Oh my god, hyung, she likes you!” One of the rappers screams out from his table near the window. “Stop being dense.”

“I’m not—” Seokjin begins to yell back, but you cut him off.

“Jin, would you like to see a movie with me tomorrow night?”

When he looks at you, he sees a hopeful expression. He imagines closing up the bakery early and walking with you to the movie theater. He imagines what kind of snacks you’ll like and wonders if you’ll share them with him. He imagines wrapping his arm around you and how well you’d fit next to him. He imagines pressing his lips against yours in the dark, tongues wrestling against each other as his hands traveled down your body. He gulps. “Uh… yeah. I’d really like that.”

.

.

Seokjin’s not good at being in a relationship. He’s had a lot of toxic relationships in the past, with a lot of cheating and mental stress. He’s spent the last three years filling the void with a lot of meaningless sex. On more than one occasion, former friends with benefits came storming into the bakery to scold him for his lack of commitment. He focused on himself a lot; on getting through culinary school, on perfecting his skills in the oven, on opening his own shop. He tells you as much on the fourth date, hand wrapped tightly around your own as you walk through a flower garden. You listen intently, nodding your head and adding “ohs” and “ahs” when appropriate. Then you sit him on a bench and kiss him hard, tongue dragging against the roof of his mouth before whispering against his lips, “I don’t care. I like you anyway.” 

Seokjin is happy with you. He smiles for no reason during the day, sings louder in the kitchen when frosting cakes, cusses less when the chocolate doesn’t temper or the cookies burn. He feels lighter, knowing that come closing time he can be wrapped up in you. His friends notice too. Namjoon teases him about how much more cheerful he is, while Taehyung and Jungkook pry for more information. He offers them none, much to their chagrin. He wants to keep you to himself, afraid that if the others find out, they’ll ruin it for him. Especially Jungkook—though he thinks about the other man’s disapproval less and less as he spends more and more time with you.

The relationship progresses slowly. You go on a lot of dates, whispering in the back of movie theaters and stealing small kisses on street corners. Seokjin likes to hold your hand. He marvels at the way it fits in his own, how easily you are able to slide your finger through his as you talk about work or travel or a memory from your childhood. Seokjin likes to hear you laugh. You think he’s the funniest person you’ve ever met. He’s gone through a rolodex of puns to try and hear the bubbling sound that spills out of you. You laughed the hardest on the 7th date, plastic gun slipping from your grip at an arcade, when Seokjin tells you he wrote a dessertation on Sweetzerland in culinary school. You hug him tight, face pressed against his chest as you continue to giggle at his words. He thinks you fit well there.

You don’t sleep together until three months in—an eternity for Seokjin. He’s never had to wait that long, but he finds it hard to argue when you whisper, “not tonight,” in his ear. He always agrees, calming himself enough to make it through the rest of the date. He ends up jacking off to thoughts of how you taste in the shower. You’re the biggest tease when it comes to that—your taste. The casualness with which you insist that you are sweeter than any dessert he’s ever made always leaves him drooling. Eating girls out was never his favorite sexual act, but he thinks you’ll change that. 

“You can’t—you can’t just say those sort of things!” He yelled at you once, during your tenth date at a sushi restaurant. The waiter threw him a dirty look, as did a much younger couple seated next to you. He’s always louder than he needs to be, but you’re the only person he’s dated who never complained. Instead, you rolled your eyes at him and swallow your food.

“Why not?”

“We’re in public.”

“I didn’t say anything bad.”

“Don’t lie. Don’t pretend that you’re innocent! I can hear you. I have perfect hearing. Doctor’s everywhere are impressed by it. You can’t get those filthy words past me.” He berated, making you giggle.

You slid your hand over the table to grab his, kissing the back of it gently. He can’t help but blush. “Don’t be silly, Jin. I never said what part of me tastes better than strawberries, just that some part of me does.”

“Which part then?”

“Why? You want to try it for yourself?” He threw his head back with an annoyed groan at your words, making you laugh even louder. The couple shushed you both, yet again, shaking their heads as though you two are the immature ones in that situation.

When it finally does happen, much like the first date, it’s on your terms. You’re sitting in his apartment, legs thrown over his lap as you listen to him complain about a mom who ordered a cake of a whale for her son’s 8th birthday only to show up expecting a Beluga whale and not a Killer whale like Taehyung had decorated. Suddenly you sit up, arms coming out to grab Seokjin’s face as you set a soft kiss on his lips. Then a second. Then a third. With the fourth, you up the intensity by slipping your tongue into his mouth. He shuffles his body slowly between your legs, refusing to let your lips part as he hovers on top of you. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him down as you grind your center directly where his dick sits in his jeans. 

These types of makeout sessions have happened before; often right before you need to catch the train or bus back home. You always pull away after 15 minutes or so; that’s why Seokjin freezes when you whisper against his lips, “Do you wanna taste me?” He can’t formulate words. He’s thought about this moment for weeks now; planned a response for everything you could possibly say, but he’s coming up short. He’s sure he looks crazy, eyes bulging from his head. “Jinnie, say something.”

“A-are you… are you serious?” He manages to stutter out.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t—”

“Oh my god, take off your pants right now,” he yells in excitement, sitting up on his knees. Your laughter rips through the air as he fumbles with the button of your jeans, shaky hands pulling them down your thighs until they get caught at your knees. He huffs in annoyance, lifting your legs himself to get the now offensive fabric away from you. As soon as the jeans hit the floor, Seokjin drops down to his stomach between your thighs. You open your legs with a content sigh, making him wonder if you’ve been waiting for this moment as long as he has. He drags his lips lightly over your thighs before placing a kiss on the crotch of your panties. You shudder. He chuckles. “Promise you’re as sweet as candy?” He asks, voice unintentionally deepening as he comes closer to his target. 

“Pinky swear,” you whisper. Taking this as his cue to move forward, Seokjin’s fingers gently ghost over the black fabric of your underwear before pulling the crotch to the side and exposing your core to the cool air. He takes in the fluid shapes and subtle wetness already gathering on your folds in awe, shocking himself with all the ways he could still find you beautiful. Closing the last bit of distance between you, he takes a tentative lick from the bottom of your slit to the top, the firm tip of his tongue pressing against your clit in the process. The action causes you to rock up, hands settling at the top of his head. “Fuck,” you whisper gently, the breathy sound going straight to his cock. He repeats the act once more, though this time his lips around your tender bud and he gives it a light suck. Your fingers thread through his hair tightly, guttural moan exiting your throat. Pride swells in Seokjin’s chest—he’s the reason you’re making those sounds.

“Jesus babe,” he murmurs, leaving open mouthed kisses on your thigh, “you’re even sweeter than candy.” You let an amused breath at his words, any laughter that would have bubbled up dying as those kisses reached your lower lips. “Can I take these off?” Seokjin asks, pulling further at your panties.

“Please.” With a bit more confidence than before, he moves to take your panties off completely. As he settles back down between your thighs, he sneaks a peek at you. You’ve relaxed back down on the couch, head leaned back on the armrest although your eyes never leave him. “Jin, please,” you whimper. Your words spur him on and he dives face first in your pussy, tongue working itself deep in and around your core. Soft whimpers turn to loud moans as he continues, only motivating him further. The need to make you cum becomes his only goal. “Fuck Jin, so goo—oh!” You moan out, jumping in shock when you feel his thick finger press against your entrance.

“Can I?” He asks, lifting his head up for confirmation that he can continue. With your rapid nods, he presses his index finger into you, sighing as he feels warm walls flutter and constrict around him. Then, as if another force has taken over his body, Seokjin surges his whole body forward to kiss you while he thrusts his finger at a steady pace. You readily welcome his lips against your own, not minding the taste of yourself against his tongue, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. “Do you—fuck you are tight—baby… think you can cum like this?” He asks between kisses, your hips starting to buck into his hand. You mumble out an affirmative, pressing yourself closer to him.

He loses track of himself in the moment, one finger becoming two, thumb circling your clit, lips sucking bruises into your neck as you start to make desperate pleas in his ear for more, more, more. You give no warning when your orgasm hits you, just tensing up against him as your walls clamp down hard against his fingers. He litters your face with small pecks as he works you through it, fingers slowing only when he feels you begin to come down from your high.

“Jesus Jin, you’re really good at that,” you remark in a small voice as he removes his fingers from inside you, aftershocks continuing to rock your body.

He can’t help the cheshire grin that settles onto his face as he lifts himself off of you to get a good look at your fucked out form; your eyes are so dilated that they are nearly black, sweat sits at the edge of your scalp and brows, and your shirt is bunched up around your chest. He wants to kiss you again, wants to feel your legs wrapped around his waist, wants to feel everything you have to give and then some. “Baby,” he starts, suddenly feeling constricted by all the clothes he is wearing and how hot the room has gotten, “I could eat your pussy for hours on end, but I am so fucking hard right now. Please don’t leave me hanging.”

“Fuck that’s hot… do you have a condom?”

“Bedroom, bedroom, bedroom right now, come on!” Seokjin shouts, jumping up and pulling you off the couch with him, leading you through the short hallway to where he sleeps nightly. It’s a flurry of movement between the both of you, hands making bold passes over newly uncovered body parts as all remaining forms of clothing are removed. He lets an uncharacteristically animalistic growl when you finally wrap a hand around dick, moving it up and down at a near glacial pace. “Faster,” he finds himself begging, breathing harder when you comply with his request. He lets it go on for a while further before he gently pushes you on your back underneath him, hand digging in the drawer of his bedside table as he searches for the pack of condoms he knows is there. However, his movements stop and his mind goes blank when he feels you reach a hand for his cock again and grind his sensitive tip between your still soaked lips. He’s reeling, knowing he could slip right in if he wanted to, if you let him, despite how irresponsible it would be.

“Seokjin, condom! Hurry up!” You whine out, as if seeing his internal dilemma. Your other hand claws at his chest to further get his attention, snapping him out of his reverie and back into action.

When he finally locates a condom, he’s nearly rabid. He tears at the package and slips it on with such roughness that a small part of him worries he might break it. The bigger part of him, however, is focused on how delicious you look underneath him and how delicious your pussy will feel around him. He lets out a small huff when he finally gets the condom on, lining himself up with your entrance. He wants to take his time, wants to tease you a bit, but it takes one drag of the head of his cock against your slit for him to forget about all of that. He pushes inside of you slowly, warm walls clenching around him when he’s fully seated inside of you. 

It goes by faster than expected. Your body accepts him so easily, like it was made for him. You suck him back in each time he pulls out. You tilt your hips up when he begins to thrust harder, eyes rolling to the back of your head each time his hips meet your thighs. His hands roam the expanse of your body, gently squeezing areas that are softer than he expected and running blunt nails against your sternum before one of them snakes behind your neck and pulls you up to meet him for a sloppy kiss. It’s messy, more tongue than lips and it makes you clench even tighter than before. Seokjin’s not sure if you’re close, but he knows he damn sure is. 

“Honey I don’t think I’m gonna last much longer.” He bites out, slowing down slightly as he lays you back down.

“Then cum,” you whimper back, though it sounds much more like an order. Hitching your legs up on his waist, Seokjin uses the last bit of energy he has to drill into you, chasing his orgasm until it crashes over him like a tidal wave. It’s the most pleasure he’s felt in months. All of his senses are overloaded as he cums, pressing deep inside of you. His hips stutter slightly as he milks himself to completion, feeling even more content when you run your fingers up and down his arms slowly. 

It’s that sweet gesture that brings him back down to earth. He takes his time removing himself from you, unsure if he wants to leave now that he knows exactly what you feel like. Placing your legs off of his hips and shuffling off of the bed to throw away the condom, he quickly returns and flops on his back next to you.

“We gotta—we have got to do that again.” Seokjin finally breathes out, heart still racing. You curl up beside him, skin sticking to his own in a way that disgusts him slightly; yet, he still pulls you closer. “I didn’t make you cum.”

“You made me cum once.”

“But not on my dick.”

“I still enjoyed myself.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s an honor thing. You have to cum on more than my fingers.”

“Like right now? Or—”

“Don’t joke like that. My dick can’t handle it.” You giggle at his words and he feels something rising up in his chest that he can’t identify. Despite hearing all of your moans, whimpers, and whines for the past hour, he still thinks your laughter is the best sound in the world. 

And later, when you start to drift off on his lap during a 90s movie marathon, Seokjin whispers promises into your skin that he’s never made before. You don’t say if you hear them, but relax further in his embrace.

.

.

“Oh this kid looks just like Jungkook.” Seokjin says one evening, sitting on the bed in your apartment. It’s the first time you’ve invited him in, having asked if he would spend the night because the bakery opens later on Saturdays and you want to sleep in with him. It’s such a cute request he can’t deny it. He thinks you’re so cute that it’s getting hard for him to deny you at all. He worries it will become a problem later, but he doesn’t dwell on it when your whole face lights up with happiness. Your apartment is quaint, with big white walls covered in pictures and knick knacks from your various adventures overseas. You float around the bedroom grabbing things for Seokjin—towels, extra pillows, a spare toothbrush—and laugh at him. “What’s so funny, huh?”

“That is Kook.”

“Really?” He takes the framed picture from your nightstand and looks at it more closely. It’s for sure you in the picture, just much younger. You sport messy hair and large t-shirt combo that would be embarrassing to most, but you’re holding on to a much smaller and skinnier kid with such excitement that it just reads as adorable. “Wow, you guys have really known each other for a long time.”

You let out an airy laugh of disbelief, placing the things on a chair placed in the corner of the room. “Since he was born.”

“Oh, so that’s why he calls you his sister,” Seokjin starts with a nod of understanding. “I thought he just had a crush on you or something. I didn’t realize that you’ve known him for so long. Your families must be really close right?”

You laugh again, but the tone is off. Seokjin catches it, but you’re crawling on the bed next to him and wrapping an arm around his back before he can question it. “Baby,” you start, voice light but edging on serious, “you know I’m actually bunny boy’s sister right? Like we’re really related. His family is my family.”

It’s a gut punch, hearing those words come out of your mouth. He isn’t sure how to process and he’s sure he looks like a fish as his mouth opens and closes as he tries to find something to say. He settles on, “What?”

“Jungkook is my little brother.”

“But you guys don’t even look alike.” He responds, feeling his brain short circuit. “You literally couldn’t be more different. And you guys don’t even have the same names. You can’t—it doesn’t…”

You sigh, unwrapping your arms from around him while shaking your head. “It’s complicated.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well for starters, we’re not blood related at all.”

“So you’re not siblings then?” Seokjin asks incredulously, because nothing makes sense anymore.

“Biologically no,” you stress, grabbing the picture out of his hands. There are red indentations on his palms from where he was squeezing it so tight. “But, legally speaking, we are siblings. All the paperwork I have will tell you I’m part of his family. But more than that, all of us were raised together as brother, brother, and sister.”

It really is a complicated story, Seokjin thinks as you explain your family history to him. Friends of friends, broken trust, being in the right place at the right time, and international trips brought you into the Jeon family. You never looked at Jungkook as anything other than family; Jungkook never knew you as anything other than his sister, biology be damned. “He never talked about you though,” Seokjin admits, head pounding from information overload. “Like ever. He only ever mentioned his—well your—brother.”  

You roll your eyes at this information, but don’t seem surprised. “He was mad at me for a long time. He thought it was stupid that I left to try and reconnect with my bio family. Do you know he can hold a grudge for a really long time? He wouldn’t answer my phone calls for a year after I first left.” You let out a small sigh, flopping back on your bed. “We only really just got back to a good place. I think that’s why he’s been so clingy lately.”

Seokjin squeezes his eyes shut in frustration. “Ugh, Kook is really gonna kill me,” He mumbles, laying down beside you. 

“Why would he do that?” You whisper, moving your body to curl into him. “He’s the reason I started dating you in the first place.”

“What are you even talking about?” Seokjin groans out. “Don’t say false things just to comfort me. It won’t work.”

“I’m serious. He’s like your biggest fan. He talks about you all the time. Hearing and seeing how much you cared for him meant a lot to me. It made me like you for more than just your looks. I wouldn’t have embarrassed myself in front of you so many times if I thought you were a bad guy.”

“Really?” 

“Really.”

Seokjin hums mindlessly, thoughts still a jumbled mess in his head from all the information he has received. One thing sticks out in his mind though. He turns his head to lay a soft peck on your forehead. “You know you never embarrassed yourself in front of me, right?”

“What are you talking about? I practically begged you to take me on a date.”

“You saved me from myself. I embarrassed myself way more. I could barely talk to you without becoming a mess and tripping over all my words.”

“I wouldn’t want you any other way. You’re my mess.”

“Oh my god, Jungkook was wrong. You’re the best woman in the whole wide world and you're all mine, mine, mine!”

.

.

“Kim Seokjin, you motherfucker—” Here’s the thing, Jungkook is Seokjin’s youngest friend. He plays the role of the baby well, to the point where Seokjin feels as though he’s raised him. It’s so easy to forget that Jungkook is not as young as he acts; he’s always so kind and affectionate. He’s also the hardest worker at the bakery, always coming in early and staying late to make sure everything is finished. However, the boy was so much stronger than he looked. He worked out 6 days a week for fun and described getting tattoos as a pleasurable experience. Of course he would be able to pick Seokjin up and pin him against the wall by his throat. 

“Woah, woah, woah, calm down!” Namjoon shouts, running up to try and pull the younger man away. Jungkook does not relent, fighting against his friend to continue to try and choke Seokjin. “Kook, listen man! This is not the way to handle this!”

“He fucked my sister!” He screams and the accusation sounds so much worse coming out of Jungkook’s mouth, especially because it’s true. Except there is so much more than fucking that’s going on, but he can’t get the words out of his mouth to say that through Jungkook’s yells. “Thought I wouldn’t find out? Thought she would keep it a secret?” He spits out, still struggling against Namjoon.

“It’s not like that—” Seokjin begins, voice smaller than he anticipated, but Jungkook cuts him off.

“Bullshit!” Jungkook screams, voice cracking with rage. “I know you. I know how you are. You think you can just use my sister to get off?”

Now it’s Seokjin’s turn to be angry, with the thought of anyone only being with you for your body making him see red. “Do you really think I’m like that? You really think that I would hurt her like that?”

“Never stopped you before,” Jungkook responds sarcastically. “What did the last girl say again? Jin just wants a human fucktoy.” Seokjin winces at the words he once found humorous. The girl, a pretty florist he met at a bar, came in with the intent to tear him to shreds. She was met with indifference and laughter. He never realized how quickly her words would come back to haunt him. “You think my sister is a human fucktoy? Is that what it is?”

“Shut up,” Seokjin barks out, unable to think of you in that way.

But Jungkook is no longer fighting against Namjoon, content with his words bringing the pain. “You’re not good enough for her. You’ll never be good enough for her. I’ll kill you before I ever let you treat my sister like one of your whores.” 

“That’s enough,” Namjoon orders, frustration painting his features. “This isn’t going to solve anything. Jungkook, you should leave.”

Jungkook scoffs, pushing Namjoon away from him. “You’re on his side,” he accuses, pain in his voice, “You think it’s okay that he’s fucking my sister.” 

“I don’t think anything,” Namjoon stresses. “But fighting in our place of business is not smart. People can hear us out there and whether you like it or not, your outburst is gonna affect more than just Jin. This can be dealt with later.”

Jungkook is quiet, though he trembles with anger. Seokjin wonders, briefly, if the man will swing on Namjoon. However, Jungkook just shakes his head and states, “Fuck your business. I quit.” 

.

.

“Are you going to fire him?” You ask over the phone that night, worry evident in your voice. You canceled your date upon finding out what your brother did. You told him good faith when he tried to set you up another date with a doctor he knew, hoping he would be happy for you. He was not. You said you had to talk to him, make sure you understood where he was coming from before you passed judgement. He was your brother after all.

Seokjin wants to laugh. He can’t. He’s miserable. He wants all of this to end, but he doesn’t want his relationship with you to end. He’s tired. “I can’t fire someone who quit.”

“He didn’t mean it. He’s going to apologize to you.” 

“Somehow, I find that hard to believe.”

But two days later, he finds you standing at his apartment door, Jungkook behind you looking at the ceiling in avoidance. Seokjin fights against his urge to hug you, to bury his face in the crook of your neck and plant a wet kiss against the skin that leaves you squirming and pushing him away from being, “gross!” He stares at you silently, but you smile at him like nothing is wrong. “Can we come in?” You ask sweetly, stepping in at Seokjin’s nod. Jungkook doesn’t move an inch, making you scowl. You turn to face the man Seokjin now knows as your brother and snap, “Get in here right now.”

The man obeys you, stepping inside of the apartment and shutting the door behind him. No one makes a move. Seokjin wants to choke on the tension. Finally, Jungkook lets out a deep breath and states, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” You say with a leading tone.

Jungkook clenches his fist, jaw tightening. “I’m sorry for choking you in the bakery. It was unprofessional of me to do so.”

“And?” You continue. Jungkook closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Jungkook!” You shout, causing the man to flinch, yet his silence continues. Seokjin watches in amazement as you reach your hand up to grab the younger boy’s ear and tug hard. Jungkook howls in pain, trying to pry your fingers away. You don’t let up. “I don’t care about your pride or your protection. You are going to apologize to Jin properly right now!” Jungkook whines loudly. You twist your fingers and the boy’s knees buckle. The scary beast who pinned Seokjin against the wall was gone. In his place was a child, weak and subdued. He wants to laugh, but doesn’t. He’s sure that if he does, it will come back to haunt him later.

“Alright, alright, I’ll do it.” Jungkook screams out. With a final pull, you let go. Jungkook rubs his ear lightly and huffs, glaring at you. You return his stare. With another sigh, he turns back to Seokjin and states, “I crossed the line. I shouldn’t have hit you or said those things. It was wrong… but—”

“No buts!” You shout out, hand reaching up again. Jungkook catches it and grasps it tightly in his own hand. He shushes you with a look that says more than Seokjin could ever guess. He drops your hand and you let it rest at your side with a sigh.

“Can you leave?” Jungkook asks you. “I just want to talk to him alone. I won’t—I will not put my hands on him. I promise.” There is a sincerity in his tone that Seokjin has not heard in a while. It gives him hope.

Your head rolls back and forth, as if weighing out your options before stating, “Ten minutes, Kook. You hear me? Ten. And if he tells me you so much as even threaten him, you’ll have a whole lot more to be worried about than your ear!” At his aggressive nod of understanding, you turn to Seokjin. “I’ll be right back, okay?” You state, before leaning up to give him a kiss on the cheek. Seokjin notices the way Jungkook’s jaw tenses at the open display of affection. With one more stern look to your brother, you exit the apartment. 

There is a beat of silence before Seokjin suggests they sit down in the living room. It’s awkward. Jungkook has been in this room before, even passed out there a time or two; but he’s as stiff as a board when he sits on the couch. He refuses to look at Seokjin, eyes trained on the coffee table in front of him. His breaths are measured and he opens and closes his mouth a few times as he decides what to say. 

Finally, he speaks. “You don’t seem to understand that she’s my sister. My only sister, Jin.”

“I understand th—”

“You don’t. You don’t understand. I know I’m younger and you think I act like a kid, but I’m not. Not with her. I’ve spent my whole life protecting her. People always try to take advantage of her because… I don’t know. So many reasons.” Jungkook stops, struggling for words. He takes another deep breath and finally looks at Seokjin. “When we were younger, boys would bully her for being adopted. She would act like it didn’t bother her, but I could see that it did. I must have got into twenty fights making sure they kept their mouth shut when it came to her. After everyone, whether I won or lost, she would always be happier. And that was all that mattered. When she moved away I was so angry because who was going to protect her out there? Her bio family is shit. They never wanted anything to do with her. Then she started dating this guy who cheated on her and I couldn’t even get to him and I—” He stops again, having worked himself up. “I want her to be happy, okay? I don’t want her to be sad anymore.”

Seokjin is shocked. He’s never heard Jungkook speak so seriously and with so much passion. His eyes are glassy, tears clearly threatening to spill over. He looks ragged. There are dark circles under his eyes. He’s not even holding himself up properly anymore, body limp in the seat. It’s clear this has been weighing on the boy and Seokjin feels a wave of guilt wash over him. This isn’t what he wanted to happen at all. 

“I’m sorry,” Seokjin states, breaking the silence, “For not telling you. For letting it get this far. As your boss—no, as your friend, I should have let you know.” Jungkook nods, swiping at his eyes roughly. “I do… I do care about her a lot. I don’t look at her like… if I only wanted her for sex, I would have stayed away.”

“Do you… do you love her?”

“I…” Seokjin hesitates. He’s never thought about it really, loving you. He’s never even thought about love in general. For years, he didn’t think he was capable of loving someone romantically. But when he’s with you, everything feels like it’s in its proper place. “I think—I do. ” 

Jungkook hums in response, throwing his head back on the couch and really relaxing for the first time since he stepped through the door. “She loves you too,” Jungkook says as though it's a hard fact. Seokjin feels his throat tighten at his words. It’s been a long time since he’s been loved. “Like a lot. That’s the only reason I’m here… ”

“I won’t hurt her.” Seokjin says adamantly, hoping he sounds as sincere as he is. 

“You better not.” He mutters. There is another beat of silence before Jungkook meekly asks, “Can I get my job back?”

“Ask Namjoon.”

“Fuck!”

.

.

So it ends like this:

After many apologies, Jungkook gets his job back. He’s put on samples duty for a month, standing outside of the bakery with a new pun-filled sign wrapped around his neck everyday. He hates it, especially when you show up to snap a picture and post it on your Instagram. Namjoon reposts one of them on the Baking News SEOUL account and it becomes the most liked picture on the whole page. You and Seokjin howl with laughter when you see the numbers, much to Jungkook’s annoyance. He still doesn’t approve of the relationship—at least, not completely. He rolls his eyes every time he sees a kiss or a hug; he insists you don’t stay in the bakery long, shoving you out of the door after five minutes because he’s sick of seeing you flirting with his boss; he scoffs when you come in more dressed up than usual for date nights. Yet, he makes sure Seokjin knows what types of flowers you like getting on your birthday and what your ring size is, “because that’s information you’ll need sooner or later.”

On Sundays, Seokjin closes the bakery early and brings you to the kitchen. He stands behind you, hand on your hip as he instructs you on how to ice the practice cakes he baked for you earlier. He knows you won’t do it perfectly, knows you’ll eventually dip a finger in the frosting to try it for yourself, knows you’ll try to get him to do the same and put some on his face when he refuses. It might start a food fight that will take too long to clean up; might make him bend you over the counter and fuck you until your moans reverberate off of the walls. Regardless, it always ends with you kissing him all over his face, exchanging soft “I love yous” until you’re ready to go home. Seokjin thinks he’s okay with both scenarios; thinks he’ll be okay with both for a long time. 

[crisisdparity]

Game Master Akuma AU

(Note: Originally submitted to @justanotherpersonsuniverse, on their advice I will be using my own tumblr for anything in the future related to this AU.)

Xavier Duchamp was rather proud of himself. What he had before him was an absolute masterpiece of a campaign if he did say so himself. The product of over six months of study, research, and rebalancing efforts followed by two weeks of discussion with his five players to hash out schedules, meeting times, characters, backstories, potential character arcs, and getting them set up with a messaging app that was really good for sending discrete messages between the GM and the players.

Valentine and her boyfriend Justin were onboard in an instant. Within days, he'd greenlighted their Half-Elf Bard of the College of Glamour whose spell list was 100% Illusion spells and Half-Orc Fighter (Eldritch Knight) who was focusing entirely on Abjuration as Rena Rouge and Carapace respectively.

Olivia had spent a few days coming up with a Halfling Rogue and debating subclasses with him until settling on Scout. Along with some discussion over how her special magic item's stunning and paralysis effect would work with Sneak Attack, the campaign had its Vesperia.

Jeanette had gone back and forth with him for a week looking at various homebrew subclasses for her Gnome Artificer before they both agreed on one particular Master Tinkerer entry that would be balanced and do the character justice. And with that they had their Ladybug.

Even Matt was on board with a stealthy human Chat the Barbarian using the Path of the Beast. The class choice was something Matt had insisted on (and that Xavier would have suggested anyway just for the high hit point totals given Matt's history with characters dying) and he'd even come up with a backstory that Xavier felt was quite compelling compared to Matt's usual efforts. Morally ambiguous, likely to be tempted by promises of power, but with a great deal of story potential to work with.

Which was a relief. Getting a new player into their group to replace Matt was not something Xavier really felt comfortable with. There were too many unknowns with introducing a new person, far too many for him to risk his masterpiece on an unknown factor. He knew Matt. He could work with Matt. Despite the history.

He'd put everything he had into this. Every known Akuma ever fought by the heroes had been made into a boss-tier foe. He'd carefully documented each and every power the heroes had shown to craft special legendary magic items based on the Miraculous. Hawkmoth and Mayura themselves were going to be the final bosses of his campaign.

In response to criticism about the difficulty of his campaigns (he tried to make them fair, but still challenging enough to be memorable), he'd made several guest NPCs based on every other hero that had ever been called upon, statted out like player characters that might show up in a pinch to help. He even had a genuine Deus ex Machina that he was ready to use to get the players out of a truly impossible jam if they found themselves in one.

Not always, but a few times at least. Enough to get them to the point where they wouldn't need it anymore.

-----

It was thirty minutes in, right in the middle of exposition from the Guardian NPC, when Xavier got his first message on the app.

Matt/Chat - Chat's going to wait until everyone breaks up and follow Ladybug stealthily.

Xavier/GM - Starting party conflict on the first session? Not what I'd advise, but it's your character. Go ahead and make your Stealth roll now.

Matt/Chat - <photo> 17

Xavier/GM - Yeah, that beats everyone's passive Perception easily. You'll sneak off handily without anyone noticing.

-----

"Jeanette, Ladybug is grabbed from behind by an unknown assailant. Roll to resist the grapple."

"Geez, already? Okay, what did my assailant get for their grapple? How screwed am I?"

Xavier pretended to roll a die while consulting the message from Matt.

"19."

"Okay, difficult, but not undoable... Crap."

"What'd you get?"

"Nat 1..."

"Hah! I rip off her earrings and claim them for myself! The Wish is mine!"

"Seriously Matt?! What the hell?!"

"Because it's payback time! Payback for every character of mine killed in these hellish campaigns!"

"Oh, come on! You're not the only person whose had a character die at this table! Xavier runs some pretty challenging campaigns, but they're always fair!"

"What about the time he killed Allric the Allmighty in a single round of combat?"

"Dude, you tried to Leroy Jenkins straight into melee with a 4th-level Wizard that had a CON penalty. Even at full health you had like 10 hp."

"14!"

"Not much better, dude."

"Guys, it's fine. I can handle this. Okay, Matt. Chat the Barbarian managed to get the earrings-"

"Yeah, Ladybug screams bloody murder when he rips them out. Good luck getting out of this in one piece."

"The moment Rena hears Ladybug scream, she bolts for the sound."

"So does Carapace."

"Vesperia too."

"-and with their current locations and movement speeds, I assume you're all using the Dash action?, you've got maybe one round to decide on your Wish before they're all over you, so choose carefully. And be aware that I plan to grant whatever you wish for in the worst possible way, just as I would if any of the others pulled this."

"Rena screams 'What the HELL, Chat?! We're supposed to protect the Miraculous, not use them for our own selfish purposes! Didn't you listen to the Guardian? Such actions always bring misfortune upon those who misuse the Miraculous!'"

"Because I am Chat, avatar of Destruction and I WISH THIS WORLD NEVER EXISTED!"

There was dead silence at the table.

"Matt... What... just... WHAT?!"

"Hah! You like that?! How does it feel now that the shoe's on the other foot, huh?!"

"What the hell is your problem, Matt?!"

"My problem? MY problem?! Do you know how much time I've spent making characters for these shitty campaigns only to have them turned into paste in one session?!"

"Because you made primary spellcasters and played every last one of them like a barbarian, charging in headfirst without thinking! All of us breathed a sigh of relief when you revealed that your character finally matched your playstyle!"

"I HATE BARBARIANS! THEY'RE BORING! I SHOULD GET TO PLAY CHARACTERS THAT CAN AT LEAST CHUCK FIREBALLS!"

"THEN MAYBE YOU SHOULD STOP RUNNING THEM FACE FIRST INTO ENEMY SWORDS!"

"NONE OF YOU COULD EVER HANDLE THE FACT THE I MAKE MORE AWESOME CHARACTERS THAN ANY OF YOU, SO YOU JUST LET THIS DOUCHEBAG KILL THEM OFF SO YOU WOULDN'T GET OVERSHADOWED BY HOW AMAZING I AM! WELL NOW I KILLED SOMETHING YOU ALL WORKED HARD ON, SO SUCK IT! I'M DONE WITH ALL OF YOU FOREVER!"

"MATT! HEY! GET BACK HERE YOU JERK! MATT!"

"Crap, I think Olivia might actually kill him this time..."

"It's going to take all of us to stop her from getting arrested at least."

Xavier just watched numbly as the rest of the group ran out of his apartment. Over six months of work. Gone in less than an hour.

He'd given so much to making sure this would work. He'd apologized to Matt at least twice for every character of his that had died to get him to come back. He'd agreed to demand after demand just to keep a familiar face on board, never dreaming he'd pull something like this.

He'd nearly gotten fired from his job trying to rearrange his schedule to fit with everyone else's. They'd somehow, miraculously, gotten the whole day with no other obligations among any of them and decided to make the first session a true marathon. They'd meet in the morning after breakfast and eat both lunch and dinner at the game table before calling it a night late in the evening.

It was barely 10:00 in the morning and the whole campaign he'd slaved over for months was kaput.

He never noticed the butterfly landing on his custom Miraculous-themed Game Master screen and being absorbed into it.

"Game Master, I am Hawkmoth. Few people appreciate the kind of effort that goes into making something truly grand and memorable. I shall give you the power to bring your entire world to life and in return, I ask only for a few simple things."

This was wrong. Hawkmoth was the worst of the worst. The kind of person who would be at home among all the final bosses he'd ever made for his campaigns. Heartless, manipulative, cruel.

"Not enough? Ah, but what is a game without players? How would you like to have the Miraculous heroes themselves run your great campaign? Surely they would be far more appreciative than those ungrateful peons that left you alone with nothing but the broken remains of your efforts."

He knew all these things, but the allure of bringing the world he'd spent so much time on to life... What creator could ever turn down an offer like that?

"I, the Game Master, accept... Hawkmoth."

"Excellent. And in exchange, you shall bring me one of two things: The Miraculous, or the identities of their wielders."

"No."

Hawkmoth was silent for a moment.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said no. I am the Game Master. I make the world. I craft the challenges. I decide the rewards. But I do not do anything for anyone. If you want these things, get them yourself."

"If you refuse me, it shall be very unpleasant for you."

"No. As Game Master, I decide the limits of all powers within my realm. And I decide that you have none over me."

And with that, he unleashed his creation over all of Paris, drawing everyone and everything within into his sphere of influence.

-----

Ladybug blinked the spots (ha) out of her eyes as the flash of light died down and looked at herself. She didn't remember transforming, but she was clearly in her spots. Except her red and black superhero uniform didn't usually look like it was headed to a steampunk convention. Looking around, she tried to figure out what had happened and her eyes landed on a familiar belt and pants combo.

Problem. Whoever this was, their groin was at eye level for her.

She looked up.

And up.

To find a grinning Chat Noir, sans anything resembling a shirt and having put on at least a foot of height and apparently a hundred pounds of pure muscle, grinning down at her.

"How's the weather down there?" Chat Noir chuckled as he flexed his unfairly attractive muscleman physique.

"I WILL END YOU!" the heroine snarled, already 100% done with whatever new insanity Hawkmoth had cooked up.

Characters:

Ladybug - Gnome Artificer (Master Tinkerer - Homebrew)

Chat Noir - Human Barbarian (Path of the Beast)

-----

Vesperia had to admit, as Akuma attacks went, this was pretty dope.

She was currently a halfling. A halfling! If it wasn't for her fantasy ensemble being yellow and black, she'd have thought she stepped straight out of Lord of the Rings.

Of course, fantasy setting or not, there were still things she'd have rather left back in the real world. Like racism. And stigma against mixed couples. Not directed at her, but rather at the two walking down the street next to her.

"You know, people are staring..." she said as she craned her head to look at her companions.

"Let them," the Half-Elf Rena Rouge (who looked like a cross between a musician and a belly dancer) said from her perch atop the shoulders of the heavily armored (and surprisingly buff) Half-Orc Carapace. "They're just jealous because their boyfriends can't carry them everywhere."

Characters:

Vesperia - Halfling Rogue (Scout)

Rena Rouge - Half-Elf Bard (College of Glamour)

Carapace - Half-Orc Fighter (Eldritch Knight)

-----

Ryuko blinked as she studied the apparent snake-man-thing before her who claimed to be Viperion. She lifted a hand to study it and found what appeared to be bronze scales covering every inch of her skin.

She sniffed herself, smelling the sharp tang of ozone. What was she?

And why did she appear to be wearing wooden armor?

Characters:

Ryuko - Dragonborn (bronze) Druid (Circle of Storms - Third Party)

Viperion - Naga Sorcerer (Divination Magic - Homebrew)

-----

Polymouse giggled as her friends ran over her. Okay, she'd freaked out a little to find a swarm of mice (with hair like hers no less) crawling all over her surprisingly mouse-like body when she'd come to in the middle of some forest somewhere. But she'd gotten over it pretty quickly. It helped that her new friends were adorable.

It might help more if she could figure out where she was.

Or find another person.

Characters:

Polymouse - Kobold (rodentlike) Ranger (Swarmkeeper - Reskinned)

-----

Purple Tigress sighed as she felt the hair (fur?) on the top of her head being shifted around and twitched her new catlike ears in mild annoyance.

"Are you quite done?"

"Almost!" Pigella's cheerful voice answered. "Your fur is so comfy!"

Tigress sighed. Of course Pigella would end up being a fairy, and having her normal cheerful enthusiasm cranked up to previously unimagined levels.

"I love you dearly, but if you start shouting 'hey listen' I will stick you in a bottle."

"Aw, I love you too! Hey, what's that?"

"I think it's my character sheet?"

Characters:

Purple Tigress - Tabaxi Paladin (Oath of Glory)

Pigella - Fairy Cleric (Order Domain - Reskinned)

-----

"According to my analysis, we have been placed into what appears to be a Dungeons and Dragons campaign under 5th edition rules," Pegasus stated in a mechanical monotone. "I am apparently a Warforged Wizard using the School of Conjuration whose spells create portals to bridge dimensions and summon or banish my intended targets. You are what is known as a Simic Hybrid, with the class of Monk, following the Way of the Drunken Master."

"Aweshum," King Monkey slurred, his generally human appearance clad in monk's robes marred by his monkey-like hands and feet as well as the monkey tail swishing behind him.

"Why do you keep slurring like that? According to my sensors, your gourd is filled with only water."

"Gotta keep up appearanshes!" King Monkey grinned as he continued faking drunkenness.

Characters:

Pegasus - Warforged Wizard (School of Conjuration - Reskinned)

King Monkey - Simic Hybrid Monk (Way of the Drunken Master)

-----

Hawkmoth studied the dark red horns growing out of his head in the mirror. The change in appearance was disconcerting, but he felt a rush of power in this new form that he'd never felt before.

"Hmm... perhaps I can work with this..."

"Speak for yourself..." Mayura muttered off to the side, ruffling her peacock-like feathers in annoyance as she tried to glare at the beak on her own face.

Characters:

Hawkmoth - Tiefling Dark Lord, Warlock Patron, Contracted by Lila Rossi, Volpina, Queen Wasp, and many others.

Mayura - Kenku Assistant to the Dark Lord, Creator of Monsters

-----

"Oh, come on!" A figure in a cyan and white hooded robe complained as they waved a similarly colored umbrella around angrily. "Everyone else gets to be part of this adventure, why can't I join them?"

"Because you're too OP. You'd completely break everything and remove all challenge from the adventure."

"But sitting around is no fun at all!"

"If you like, I can put you in the position of the main quest giver. Your job would be to direct them towards their enemies and means of becoming stronger."

"That's it?! I'm on 'mysterious hooded figure' duty? Boo! Why can't I fight with them?!"

"Because you're too OP. But if you insist, I'll allow some Deus ex Machina interventions."

"YES!"

"Five."

"I'm sorry?"

"I'll allow five interventions at your discretion to aid them when they are in peril. Once you have come to their aid five times, I will allow no more meetings save to impart quest information."

"That's it?"

"Yes. Choose your interventions wisely."

"So... if I manage to save one for when they fight Hawmoth and Mayura in the final battle...?"

"Then I would allow you to join them of course."

"Score!"

Characters:

Bunnyx: Mysterious Hooded Figure, Deus-ex-Machina (5)

Game Master: Akuma Lord of the Miraculous Campaign

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Addendum

When the Game Master is finally purified and the damage reversed, it turns out that he took the effort to trap all of Paris in a temporal stasis bubble so that no matter how long passed inside no more than a few moments passed outside. Meaning that after what seemed like months in the bubble, it's basically less than a minute after he was akumatized when everything is put back.

All his friends, minus Matt, come back in bringing a new person named Zack that they vetted themselves to take Matt's place in case he pulled something like what he did. And while he has a similar playstyle to Matt, he's savvy enough to know what kind of characters that is suited for and he loves playing barbarians.

They all sit back down and restart the game they were all looking forward to.