#miraclous fanfic

[trixxiephantomhive]

LBSC Valentines Exchange

This one is for @airi-p4!!! Violin Valentine Ch1

Prompt/Summary: Alya invites Marinette to a piano contest because Adrien is playing. It turns out that she ends up fascinated by the blue-haired violinist accompanying his playing instead (and completely forgets about Adrien).

“Hey, girl! I just found out Adrien is going to be in this super hard to get into piano contest. You have to come and see him!”

“Y-Yeah Yeah! Of course I’ll come”

Those were the ill fated words that lead her to this moment. Her fading crush is constantly being re-sparked by her friends. Obviously she doesn’t mind. She and Adrien would look great together. But, her daydreams of marriage and three kids no longer seem so perfect. Yet, she still puts on her favourite red dress: knee-length, flowy sleeves, and black details. Perfect for a formal concert. 

She sits and does her makeup as she waits for Alya to come and get her, hyping herself up. 

By the time Alya does arrive, she’s fairly excited. Good music, good friends, and probably some yummy snacks. Tonight will be great! 

“Hey, girl!” Alya smiles and gives Marinette a hug. Marinette, of course, looks at Alya's outfit to see what her friend decided to wear. Her outfit is an orange ankle-length Boho dress made with tons of ruffles, she brushes her friends bare shoulders and looks at her.

“Aren’t you going to get cold? Also– Hi!” 

Alya laughs, “I’ll be alright, I can always borrow nino’s jacket. He’s meeting us there.”

Marinette smiles, and thinks “oh, great. I’m the third wheel again” but just laughs with Alya as they leave for the event.

Once they arrive the room and decor is breathtaking. Not surprising for a young pianist competition held in the Philharmonie de Paris. A large lobby awaits the girls as they stand by the doors in search of Nino. He finds them within a few minutes. 

“Hey, girls!” He calls out and smiles, wrapping Alya in a close hug. Marinette smiles and waves. 

“We should head in, Marinette and I wanna get good seats so we can see everything” Alya looks over and winks at her best friend, while Marinette puts on a smile, not really caring about seeing the “everything” that Alya wants her to.

She doesn’t feel any ill-will towards her friend though, she never explicitly told her best friend about not feeling so inclined towards Adrien anymore. Since as a lycée aged girl, she’s supposed to have a crush, right? 

They walk into the theatre and sit down. Three seats in the middle section, five rows from the stage, Marinette takes the aisle seat with Alya on her left. If an akuma strikes during the contest, she’ll need to be able to get out quickly. She leans back into her seat and watches the stage. The show won’t be ready to start for another 5 minutes, and people are still filing in. 

“No flowers for Adrien?” Nino asks Marinette teasingly. 

“Wh-what? No, no, I didn’t think about it. Should I have?” Marinette asks back, worried she may have made a mistake or that it was impolite to have not brought him anything.

Alya then glares at Nino, “Girl, He’s just teasing. Adrien will be happy we came to see him.”

Marinette sighs in relief, silently cursing herself over getting so worked up. Her need to please other people is a constant annoyance in the back of her brain.

As she’s thinking and calming down, the house lights go down as the stage lights come on. Two young men in red tuxedos introduce themselves as the hosts of tonight's show, The hosts begin thanking the night’s sponsors and of course thanking the GABRIEL brand for the use of the tuxedos.

 They then introduce the name of the first pianist and the song they’re playing. The first contestant is a girl with long black hair, and a uniform-like outfit of navy blue and gold. She plays an original piece called ‘Requiem 1 of 9, for each life of a cat’’. A weird name, Marinette thinks, and that is that. She sits down to play a piece that starts playful, but by the end sends chills down Marinette’s spine. After around five minutes of music she exits the stage and a new contestant sits down to play. The only flair of the event is the change in coloured lighting and occasional addition of extra accompaniment. A few players had violinists with them, one or two had a cello, And one was announced to have a viola, but Marinette really couldn’t tell the difference between it and a violin 

After many performances, the awaited time came and Adrien himself walked onto the stage, announced  as “Adrien Agreste, son of the famed Gabriel Agreste. Tonight he will be playing Chopin’s ‘Raindrop Prelude’ Otherwise known as Op. 28 No. 15.” 

He nervously tugs at his tie as he sits down and prepares to play. Marinette is surprised to note there is a violinist on stage, a blue haired boy in an older looking suit plays along. The melody is a gorgeous but sorrowful one. The lights sparkle behind him, in the colour of a pale blue, almost reflecting the hair of his violinist. 

Marinette doesn’t know why, but her eyes seem to unwillingly give this boy a spotlight. 

The way he grasps his instrument with a firm hold and keeps his head tilted at such a thoughtful angle; Marinette doesn’t know much about musicians or how to play violins, but she can just tell out of the others, this boy is by far the best. 

Marinette is pulled out of her examination as a burst of sound hits, Adrien’s playing becomes more dramatic and starts to feel louder even if he seems to be keeping a bit of a consistent volume. Her gaze sweeps back towards the boy, his closed eyes and pursed lips reflecting each change in the song. When it switches to a lighter melody he seems to stand up straighter, his face seems more relaxed. Every motion is so subtle, yet so perfect. It seems as if he could play forever. But just like that, the song is over. The two boys bow and walk off stage. She claps along with everyone, but her mind is focusing solely on that particular violinist. She decides, in a brash thought, that after the show, she must get backstage. It’s a fact cementing in her mind. His calmness compared to the sweat on Adrien's brow, his subtle gestures compared to that of Adrien forcing out some flair. 

It was as if crushes could jump to one person from another like a flu. It almost could be true. She never knew it could happen so quickly. Adrien be damned, another boy she’s barely met has taken his place in a heartbeat. But now she has the pesky problem of finding out who he is.

The rest of the competitors go by, if one were paying attention you could almost giggle about how obvious the difference between the students who had paid to perform and the students who are here on talent is. Marinette though, was not. —Much to her friend Alya’s dismay when she tried to crack several jokes.—

She was too preoccupied with thinking about the best way to get backstage, and how she hoped the blue-haired violinist of her dreams had not yet left.

Finally, the concert ends and Marinette bolts up from her seat and makes her way towards the backstage entrance.

“Where’s the dudette going?” Nino asks Alya, watching their friend sprint away

“Probably going to find Adrien!” Alya says with a smiles. 

Meanwhile, two older gentlemen sit in the back row, quietly muttering to each other. One is a stocky man with a short build and not much hair. The other is tall and slim, with a moustache that can only be described as villainous.  

During the show they had remained uninterested, though only until Adrien appeared. But it may have not been him they were focusing on. As the show ends, they make their way towards the backstage entrance whispering something about a violin. 

When Marinette reaches the entrance she is stopped by a large but familiar bodyguard. Dressed in all grey and frowny as ever, Gorilla stands in front of Marinette, raising a hand to inform her that “no one is allowed backstage.”

But Marinette is not one to be told no by this man once again. So she stands back to create a plan. 

At the same time the two shady men continue to walk forward. They watch the young girl denied entry by a tall and bulky man. They’ll have to find another way in. 

“Wait,” The shorter man says “Look at that girl, she seems determined. Maybe she’ll find us a way in.”

“Are you sure?” The skinny man replies “How do you know she’ll be any good?”

“Doesn’t matter. We can just wait a moment. We’ll get caught if we rush.” The two men nod at each other and stand behind a large potted bush, waiting for this determined girl to act. 

Marinette glances around the room and takes a few steps back. She looks down into her purse to get a view of Tikki, attempting to force her brain into Ladybug mode.

That is when she notices the desert table and a fan nearby. Staring at those items, she comes up with a plan. 

Marinette smiles and walks over since there's a few people getting snacks at the moment. She grabs the fan and places it at just the right angle to blow the smell of the fresh pastries towards the bodyguard. They may not be from her parents' bakery, but hopefully any dessert will suffice. 

The fan blows the lovely sweet smells over towards the bodyguard and he immediately perks up, looks around and doesn’t see anyone by the door, so he strides over to the dessert table for a long awaited snack. Marinette smiles at her success and sneaks right in through the door, searching her way backstage. 

��.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *

The two men witness everything and nod to each other. They creep their way to the door. Marinette seems to have other plans, she makes sure the door closes behind her to avoid the guard getting into trouble. Unfortunately for the men, the door doesn’t just close. It slams, so the bodyguard, hearing the noise, whips his head over and sees the men trying to get in. He storms over and pushes the men away with a glare.

The men go outside, wondering if there’s a backdoor with possibly an easier guard to sway. 

“We need to get that violin. And soon.” The shorter man exclaims once the pair is outside. 

“I know. I know.” The taller man responds to his partner with exasperation 

“If the kid takes it back to the Louvre it’ll be a hell of a lot harder to steal.” 

“I know, stop explaining everything. Someone will overhear.”

The crooks bicker,. trying to cement another plan. They do find a back door, several actually, and all they have to do is climb a fence. How hard can that be?

｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *

Marinette, now backstage, walks around looking for that mysterious boy, seeing him just about to exit the stage. She almost sighs in defeat, until she notices an open violin case holding the specific and well designed violin the boy was playing. 

While Marinette spends time finding the boy backstage, the thieves make their way over the fence, and into the nearest door, which leads them into a room right behind Marinette. The crooks think they’ve won, as the Stradivaris is laying in its open case on top of a dressing table. They make their way to it, creeping closer. Just as they are about to grab it, Marinette gets the bright idea to reach out and grab the case at the exact same time. She closes it and excitedly makes her way towards the violinist.

“Hey uhm, I grabbed this for you! It’s a nice Violin!” Marinette exclaims, hoping she didn’t make a big mistake. 

“Oh—thanks, I should be watching it better. It’s a Stradivarius on loan from the Louvre.” Luka sighs, tired after the show, but also interested in this strange yet familiar girl. It feels as if he’s seen someone like her in a picture before.

“Oh Wow!” she replies, “You must be pretty popular to get something like that…”

The boy shrugs, “I’m no one special, it was requested for the accompaniment of the contestant I was playing for. Oh, I’m Luka, by the way, What’s your name?”

“Oh— Uh, Ma-Ma-Marinette!”

“Nice to meet you Ma-Ma-Marinette,” Luka smirks and stifles a laugh, Marinette blushes yet frowns at the same time. “Oh, I’m sorry” he says, “I’m not great at introducing myself to people. Especially… ones so helpful” He takes the violin case from her hands and tucks it under his arm. 

Meanwhile the Crooks are fuming. This is the second time this girl prevented them from getting to that violin.

Luka looks at his phone and frowns “Well, it was nice meeting you. I have to go to an after-party event. The concert hall donors and judges are going to be chatting up the pianists and their parents. I have to be there to discuss the music aspect of everything.” 

Marinette feels a bit crestfallen, and it must show on her face, as Luka amends his farewell, “Although, I suppose I could give you the address and we could meet up again. If you’d like.”

“I would love to!” Marinette smiles and leans towards him a bit, but quickly tries to tone it down. “I uh, I mean that would be fun!”

Luka grabs a notebook from his pocket and tears out a piece of paper to write down the address and the time, which is around an hour from now, presumably to give the contestants a moment to adjust their outfits or to relax. Marinette takes it and waves as he walks off.

Our two crooks stare at each other. Having overheard the conversation, they realise hijacking this boy on the road might be their answer. 

Marinette smiles dreamily, this fascinating boy asking her to a private reception. What fate is this, that in a matter of minutes she finds herself closer to a date with this Luka than three years of pining over Adrien. She walks back to her friends to tell them of her early departure. But on her way over, she runs into an unexpected classmate, her friend Juleka.

“Hi, Juleka!” she calls out, “What’re you doing here?”

Juleka smiles slightly and walks up to Marinette. “Looking for my brother,” she mumbles quietly. 

“Oh gosh, I forgot you had a brother. Older right? Is he a pianist?” 

“Actually a violinist… He was the one accompanying Adrien.”

Marinette’s jaw dropped, a flashback of Luka’s kind smile as she handed him the violin hits her, She thinks about his appearance and it’s obvious the two are siblings.

“Oh, cool!”   

“Yeah, I think he was over the way you came from,” Juleka says in her quiet manner, “Have you seen him? Blue tips in his hair— Looks like he’s running off two years worth of caffeine?”

Marinette didn’t notice the last part, but no matter, since she knows exactly where he’s going, “Yeah, actually he just went outside.”

“Damn it.” Juleka groans, “Sorry, I thought the idiot was going to wait for me. I have to go” Juleka gives Marinette a quick hug and runs off, leaving Marinette to continue searching for her friends. Once she finds them, she thinks about what to say. Not confident in admitting she’s going to an event with a guy she just met, she goes for a half truth. 

“Hey, guys!” 

“Marinette! Where have you been?” Alya looks at her friend with concern, always the caring, protective one. 

“Yeah, dudette, you totally just ran out on us,” Nino laughs, not particularly caring one way or the other. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I got distracted.” not technically wrong, “But, I actually have to head home now. I’m getting stuffy in here.” also not wrong.

“Oh–” Alya lets out her small sound of disappointment but pulls it into a smile for her friend, “That's okay, girl, whatever you need. Do you mind if I head back with Nino then? We wanna run and get some ice cream first.” 

Marinette nods and laughs, “Girl, it is way too cold for ice cream, but have fun with that!”

The trio departs, and Marinette makes her way home to fix up her outfit and figure out exactly where the event is being held. 

The thieves also try to figure out where the event is being held, by sneaking around backstage until they’re inevitably thrown out by none other than the gorilla-sized bodyguard who blocked them earlier.

[teamatsumu]

how GoM react to you wearing their jersey to a game

-> AOMINE DAIKI:

You knew he wouldn't show up to the game, as per usual. But this time would be different.

This time, while you stood over his lazy, napping form on the school roof, you had promised him that if he showed up, there would be a surprise waiting for him.

That caught his attention, as you knew it would. He was skeptical on the inside though. What could possibly be good enough to make him stay for a whole game, start to finish?

He did not expect to hear you scream his name from the stands during warm ups, breath hitching when he caught sight of you in his jersey.

You had put it on over your sweater, grinning wide as you pointed at the number and mouthed ‘surprise’. It made aomine blink and gulp.

You had worn his clothes before, but never his jersey. He felt his skin tingle in a foreign feeling of possessiveness. That was his number on your chest.

Aomine turned around and walked to the coach. “Put me in at the beginning of the game.”

His teammates gawked at him. Aomine? Willing to play? No, not just willing. Eager. This was unprecedented.

You however, were giggling in the stands, knowing exactly what his motivation to play today was.

-> KISE RYOTA:

Kise’s fans often showed up in his jersey number for games, giggling and squealing in the stands and saying his name to get his attention during warm ups. But you, you were different.

For one, you were dating. For another, you weren’t just wearing a jersey with his number on it. You were wearing his personal jersey. Tailored to him and swimming over your small frame.

You grinned when he noticed the jersey on you before the game in the hallway. He bit his lip and hid a smile.

“You wore it for me?” He tilted his head, trying to hold back from cooing all over you. You looked so cute.

“Yeah. To support you. I see all your fans do it.” You shrugged like it was no big deal. It was a big deal though, at least to Kise.

He stepped forward and smacked a sloppy kiss on your cheek, made you squeal and wipe it off in mock disgust. It didn’t bother Kise though. He was on cloud nine just looking at you wearing his clothes.

-> MIDORIMA SHINTARO:

His brain short circuits when he sees you.

Next, a million thoughts hit him all at once.

First of all, how did you even get your hands on his jersey? And how had he not noticed a missing jersey from his closet?

(You were sneaky and crafty usually, so it wasn’t too surprising)

Second of all, how did orange look so good on you?

“What is the meaning of this?” He scowls at you, making you giggle and skip closer to him. Midorima fought to keep a straight face. You were glowing.

“I know you have your lucky object with you,” you eyed the humongous hourglass figurine in his hand. “But I thought it would be nice to have a little extra luck.”

He felt his lips twitch, the muscles of his shoulders relax. He hadn’t realized he was about to walk out to court while being so stiff.

He pouted at you and looked away when he caught your teasing gaze, looking away with heated cheeks. “Thanks for the luck.”

You giggled again and planted a kiss on his jaw, turning around to the hall which lead to the stands.

“See you after the game, Shin.” You called back. Midorima allowed his lips to tilt upwards as he watched you leave.

-> MURASAKIBATA ATSUSHI:

I’m gonna say it, he doesn’t think it’s too big a deal.

Not the jersey itself, but he is more affected by the fact that you’re wearing his clothes at all. Because they are huge on you.

You’re swimming in it, dwarfed by the sheer amount of fabric. If he didn’t like the look so much, he would laugh.

But he loved it. Loved seeing you in the stands, perking up and grinning at him whenever he looked up at you and met your eyes.

The white and purple looked great on you, made you stand out in the crowd and put you in the center of his vision. What a view to have during the game.

Him putting in more effort on the court was all because it made you cheer for him and stand taller. He could give less of a shit about the actual game or the end result.

Rest assured, he will be subtly hinting at you to wear more of his clothes, jersey or otherwise.

-> AKASHI SEIJUROU:

Akashi’s actions make it abundantly clear that he is very territorial of you.

You are his. No one else has rights to you the way he does.

Now imagine him seeing you at a game, which he knows is also being attended by his peers, underclassmen, opponents and other acquaintances, knowing you are in his jersey.

His number on your chest and back, his school colors enveloping your frame.

Everyone would know you were his. And that sense of power made him feel things.

His piercing gaze finds you in the stands, the uptick of his lips and the satisfied look on his face was enough for you to squirm. Oh he liked what he saw.

He gives you a harsh kiss in the hall when the game ends, and an approving once over that fills you with glee.

With zero words, Akashi has ensured that you would show up to all his games from now on with his jersey on your back.

[swordymacaroni]

🎀when choso first saw a sliver of your stomach, he was WHIPPED. you'd reached up to stretch, the material of your fleecy sweater riding up, and choso had just happened to turn at that point. and, gosh, he couldn't get that image out of his mind. your soft, smooth skin, peeking out from your frumpy clothes, jus the right amount of chubby for him to grab, to run his fingers over, to kiss-

the more he looks at you, the more desire grows, and so does his knowledge that you're insecure. he notices you covering your stomach with your hands, wearing nothing but loose tops and refusing to slouch when wearing tight ones. he notices you shunning your food and sees the fasting apps that you're constantly scrolling through. choso can't believe it, because damn him if you aren't fucking breathtaking.

and he's determined to show you exactly that

[coryosbaby]

ᴅᴏʟʟ ᴘᴀʀᴛꜱ

Enoch O’Connor x angel! Reader <3

“Enoch! Give it back!”

Your citrine voice echoes throughout Miss Peregrine’s Orphanage as you chase the dark haired boy down. In his hands is your favorite doll, cracked but still beautiful, one Enoch had brought to life for you in the wee hours of the night many (of the same) days ago. He stomps angrily through the house, his jaw clenched, large back muscles flexing. Ignoring the squirming of the doll— aka, Mary— and her annoyed kicks, he tears open the door of his room and slams it right in your face.

How rude he is! All you had wanted to do was have tea with him and show him your new book. He had snapped at you, snarkily said something about “the both of you being too old for tea parties” and that he had more important things to do then do something so childish. You had snapped back, hurt from his words, and he had stolen Mary from you.

You don’t understand how he can be so cruel. His mood changes like the seasons— one minute he’s got a small smile on his usually dull face as he listens to you speak, making you toys that live and breathe. And then the next, it’s like you’re satan spawn.

You rest your back against his bedroom door, pouting. Tears begin to well in your eyes. You just wanted to show him your new book.

It isn’t long before you’re wiping your face and strolling towards Claire’s room. She lets you rant about your book without fuss, fascinated by all the tales that you had enamored yourself with. She also cheers you up about Enoch.

“He’s just in one of his moods,” she explained. A frown had formed on both of her faces, even when the one on the back of her head was gnawing on a chocolate chip cookie. “You know how he can get. He’ll cheer up and apologize, like he always does. Besides, he knows how important Mary is to you. He’ll give her back, I’m sure of it.”

You wonder how a child so young can be so intelligent about such things. But you guess that’s what happens when you relive the same day over and over for fifty years. You learn things, and in a way, still grow mentally.

After your talk with Claire, you feel better. You bid her goodbye, say hi to Emma as you pass her, and wander down the halls barefoot in your flowing pink dress. You make your way to the library for a new book to read.

To your distaste, Enoch is sitting at the couch when you walk through the door. You let out a little “hhm” sound, stomping angrily to the shelves. He’s got his head in a textbook about anatomy and looks up from it at the sound of your voice. He scoffs, then looks back down at it again.

Your fingers skim over book titles, some pretty and dainty, some horrific and covered in fine, dark print. You decide to pick a book by William Shakespeare— A Midsummer Night’s Dream. You scratch your feathered wings, beginning to read the book as you make your way back out of the room.

You pause at the door when Enoch’s voice makes way through your thoughts.

“You’ve read that one,” he murmurs, as his eyes scan over you.

You waver, hand staying on the doorknob.

“I didn’t know you remembered that.” you reply. You had read it years ago. Or, what you presume to be years ago. If you can even count time here.

“You recited it to me.” he shrugs, taking a glance over at your wings. They always fascinate him, even after all of this time.

“I know what I did, Enoch,” you retort, not having much logic in your sentence. But when do you ever? “Don’t tell me what I’ve done. You don’t have a right.”

“What sense does that make?” He questions snarkily, but you’re already out the door.

—

Dinner goes without much fuss. Miss Peregrine looks at the two of you questionably, wondering why you didnt take your usual seat beside Enoch, but doesn’t mention it out loud. After the reset you head back to your room and immerse yourself in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Your lace nightgown drapes down your body in silky waves.

Your shoulders are tensed, your feet tapping nervously. You’re used to Mary’s porcelain feet dancing across the hardwood floors, her tiny giggles as she looks at herself in the mirror. Usually at this time of night, you and the doll will lay awake in the dark, huddled under your ruffled pink comforter, and whisper to each other. It’s the only way you can go to sleep— Enoch had made her to help with your nightmares, after all. Your nightmares of children with no heads, monsters that pluck out children’s eyes in their sleep. Your nightmares of losing the people you love.

How could he be so cruel?

That anger flares up again. With a forceful hand, you slam the book down onto your desk and stalk across the hallway. Your knuckles rap against Enoch’s door ferociously, and when he finally opens it you force your way into his room with curses spilling off of your tongue.

“I don’t understand, Enoch!” Your wings seem to glow a dusty red hue from your rage. “I’m nothing but nice to you! I help you with your experiments, I try to be your friend, but at this point I don’t know if anyone could ever..“

You stop dead in your tracks. Enoch’s eyes dart to his work table, as if he was caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. You look across to it.

There, sitting happily, all fixed up, is Mary.

She has a smile on her painted face, and a new dress adorning her. Shes cleaned, polished, and almost looks brand new. All the cracks that were once on her porcelain skin have vanished.

“[y/n]!” The doll giggles excitedly, saying your name in words only you can hear. “Look what Enoch made for me! Isn’t it pretty?”

You gape as Mary happily twirls in her dress. Enoch clears his throat.

“She was filthy,” he mutters. “You should really start cleaning your things. It tracks dirt and grass all over the house.”

Turning to him, your stomach racks with guilt.

“You fixed her for me?”

He shrugs, avoiding your gaze, acting nonchalant.

“I’ve been meaning to for a while. It was quite annoying, watching her face caked with dirt everyday. And her dress was practically torn to shreds.”

You pick Mary up from the table, holding her in the palms of your hands. You press a kiss to her hair. The doll yawns.

“I’m tired,” she mumbles. “Can’t we sleep now?”

“In a moment,” you reply. “Why don’t you go to my room and wait up for me?”

She looks between you and Enoch, does that off putting giggle that would make anyone else uncomfortable, but not you. She hops down from your fingertips, and skips away to your room across the hall.

You hear Enoch’s bedroom door close behind you once she’s gone, and jump. The familiar raven haired boy brushes past you, taking a seat in his chair. His curls fall into his face, and usually you would move them away while he silently grumbled at you not to touch them. But right now, it’s different. You rock on the balls of your feet as silence fills the dark space.

“Enoch—“ you start, but the boy picks up a scalpel and throws one of his toys onto the table.

“I need the jar of hearts on the third shelf.”

It’s all he says, and you know that this is his way of saying he’s sorry. It’s an odd way, but it’s a way you’ve picked up on continuously. The boy doesn’t have the mouth to utter an apology, so he just brings things back to normal instead.

You scamper over to the shelves, picking out the jar he wanted, and sit it down beside him. A small smile grazes your lips, and you sit on the chair that he had put there just for you. He works silently, and his bottom lip pulls in between his teeth. You think it’s quite enamoring— sort of like your books.

Your mouth can’t seem to contain itself, and within minutes you’re speaking up again.

“Thank you,” you say. “I’m sorry. I should’ve—“

“It’s my fault,” he replies. “I…I shouldn’t have came off so brash.”

Without thinking, your hand brushes up against his.

“It’s alright,” you explain. “I forgive you, even though you haven’t said you’re sorry. But I know you are.”

He pauses. He can’t help but trail his eyes down to where your hands meet. You smile up at him, and he adjusts in his seat.

You kiss him.

You don’t know why you do, exactly. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you, like you’re something special. But your lips meet, and it’s sweet. Innocent, really— a small peck. His eyes are wide when you pull away from him.

“What was that?” He asks.

Your wings turn baby pink, and a grin spreads across your face.

“I just felt like it.”

[castrian-cosplays]

Admittedly I was gunna wait until we got our professional pictures back but the silly gay ones we got are also fantastic. So enjoy some TimKon

As seemingly always Kon is my partner in crime @dragonssociety 💚💚💚💚

[wisteriasymphony]

And no one else was in the room where it happened....

[argisthebulwark]

Not So Secret Santa

summary: christmas gift exchange smau <3 gn reader, no gendered pronouns or y/n used. feat: Miraak, Teldryn, Vilkas, Mercer, Brynjolf, Farkas warnings: maybe a lil suggestive masterlist

[alocalband]

(Don't) Stay Sterek, 17.6k, Teen Summary: Stiles goes away to college, and Derek suddenly falls ill. Obviously, the two things are completely unrelated. And, obviously, Stiles doesn't make the drive back to Beacon Hills at every available opportunity, to the detriment of his academic career, because he's secretly in love with the guy. That would be ridiculous.

“Derek’s sick.”

It’s not what Stiles was expecting Scott to open the conversation with, but at this point in his life he’s used to handling curveballs. “Derek’s a werewolf,” he responds. Because duh, it’s not as if the guy needs to worry about flu season.

“No, I mean really sick.” Stiles’ grip on his cell phone tightens as Scott’s voice then pitches lower, like he’s trying not to be overheard. “Supernatural sick.”

Supernatural anything, in Stiles’ experience, does not bode well for his immediate future. A headache and a couple of all-nighters at best; horror, bloodshed, and nightmare fodder at... Well, at medium. He tries not to think about what “at worst” entails.

“What, did he get shot up with wolfsbane again?” Stiles tries to make light, but it comes out sounding strained and half-hearted. He licks his lips and ignores the pit in his gut.

“He won’t tell me.”

“Jesus, Scott, you have eyes. And other very effective werewolf-y skills. Are there any bullet holes in him? Any suspicious purple flowers lying around the loft?”

“He’s not at the loft.”

“Then where the hell is he?”

There’s a long enough pause in response that Stiles somehow guesses the answer before Scott finally speaks it. He has no idea how he guesses it, because the very idea is absurd and kind of comical, but his own thoughts land on the very words Scott reluctantly admits right before he hears them.

“He’s at your place.”

Continue reading on AO3

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

The hospital was shockingly easy to break into, though Dabi supposed it was more due to it being built for keeping mentally ill people with quirk restraints in as opposed to keeping villain terrorists with full access to their quirks out. A distinct oversight considering exactly which top ranking hero's wife was being housed there.

All Dabi had to do was burn open a hole in a metal fence hidden behind an overgrown bush (and if he almost set fire to said bush multiple times in the process that was nobody's business but his) and then climb a particularly perilous tree, shimmy across an extremely narrow and dubiously sturdy ledge, and slide the window open with one hand, all the while clutching a bouquet of blue rindous in the other.

Easy.

No sweat.

He could do it with his eyes closed. Probably. At least he'd say he could if anyone asked, which they wouldn't, because if anyone found out that the A rank cremation villain Dabi was breaking into a hospital to leave Endeavour's wife flowers every few weeks they'd be too concerned about the fact that they were now burning to death to ask any further questions.

Dabi always frowned slightly whenever the window slid open without resistance. The hospital still hadn't fixed the latch, which was great for Dabi since he wouldn't have to break it again, but he couldn't help but feel slightly annoyed by the hospital's incompetence.

Didn't they know just about any unwanted creep could crawl through a fence, climb up a tree, shimmy across a ledge, and climb into this window? If he weren't a highly wanted criminal of secretive origins he'd write a formal complaint.

Maybe he should just murder whoever was in charge of security, they might be replaced with someone who actually cared for the safety of their patients. He tucked that idea away for later.

For now he had to focus on making sure Rei Todoroki was asleep and wouldn't notice him, she was usually out like a light at this time of night, she hadn't even stirred that one time a piece of ledge dislodged beneath Dabi's foot and he let out a rather undignified squeak of terror. Maybe she was being sedated, he hoped it was willingly, he didn't dwell on that thought, it wasn't as though he could do anything about it if it wasn't.

He could see the outline of her body under the covers from the little amount of light provided by a streetlight beyond the boundary fence, no movement, good.

The vase was still on the windowsill, excellent, one time it had been moved to the bedside table and he'd almost had to crawl right inside to reach it.

Dabi pulled out the old wilted rindous and laid them down beside the vase before carefully passing the fresh flowers from one hand to the other, shifting his grip on the windowsill, leaving his body vulnerable to the unforgiving laws of gravity for a brief moment. He cursed his weak stomach as it lurched violently at the minor jolt, it didn't matter how often he did this, it made its displeasure known each and every time.

He tucked the flowers into the vase and gave the still figure on the bed one last glance before getting ready to shimmy back across the ledge. Something about her looked... odd, misshapen almost, maybe she'd gone to bed with her dressing gown still on. Strange since she didn't normally feel the cold.

He didn't have the luxury of dwelling on the thought, the nurses could be around for check in any minute, agonisingly they were never on a regular schedule.

He had just shuffled away from the window when fingers as cold as his own suddenly wrapped around his wrist. He spun his head so fast he nearly lost his balance, but the grip on his wrist kept him steady against the wall.

Steely grey eyes latched onto his as Rei Todoroki leaned halfway out the window, holding onto him tight.

"Touya." she breathed, expression bright and almost smug. "I knew it, I knew it was you. They said I was delusional , that you were dead, that Enji must be leaving the flowers, but he never remembered my favourites, but you knew, you always picked them out of the garden for me."

Dabi froze, mouth slightly ajar as a denial danced on the tip of his tongue, his reason keeping it at bay.

No, I'm just some random villain breaking onto hospital grounds to leave you flowers, Touya who? Like shit she'll buy that.

Instead he tugged half heartedly at his wrist.

"Let go." he growled.

"Don't leave me Touya." Rei almost sobbed, her grip tightening.

"Let go mum." said Dabi, his voice weaker this time.

"Touya please," he could see tears starting to glisten in the corners of her eyes under the pale streetlight. "Don't leave me."

No no don't you cry don't you dare cry, because if you start I'll start and the last thing you need to see right now is the fucked up living corpse of your son bleeding from the eyes.

Rei's grip was bruising, he could almost hear his wrist creak under the pressure. She probably wasn't even gripping that hard, as tough as he acted there was a reason Dabi stuck to long range attacks, his body was barely more than a brittle bag of bones, a stiff breeze could dislocate his joints, especially with how many times he'd popped his own wrists out of place to slip out of handcuffs.

"If I stay I'll be caught." he argued, wriggling his wrist more urgently, maybe if she felt it pop she'd let go. "I have to go."

"He won't let me leave." Rei said, her words coming in a breathless rush, frantic, desperate. "The doctors cleared me months ago but he won't let me leave Touya. Fuyumi tried everything, Natsuo tried everything, and Shouto wants to help but he's just a child."

Her eyes were wide with panic, the more Dabi pulled away the further she leaned dangerously out the window.

"And what the fuck am I supposed to do?" Dabi hissed, almost on the verge of panic himself, "I'm a criminal, a villain, you think anyone's gonna listen to me?"

"You're the only one left who can help me." Rei's voice was as steady as her hand. "I need you Touya."

Dabi very very much did not like how effectively those words punched the air from his lungs. Needed, she needed him, not Fuyumi, not Natsuo, not even perfect precious Shouto, she needed him. The failure, the fuckup.

No fuck you, you are not that pathetic, get it together you idiot.

"What do you want?" Dabi asked, his voice almost pleading as he kept tugging at his wrist, it still hadn't popped out, of all the times for his joints to behave themselves.

Rei leaned so far over the ledge that for a moment he almost thought she had lost balance, she stared at him with a burning intensity.

"Get me the fuck out of here."

edit: there is now a part two!

[innorogers]

Awakening

Steve Rogers x Reader (You / OFC)

Summary: Steve was panting. He couldn’t feel anything else but pain. He clenched his jaw, trying to fight back all the emotions tearing him apart. But it was nothing compared to the agony that tore him apart inside. 

Warning: Angst / Hydra Past / Sad Steve / Angry Steve / Protective Steve / Past Revelations / This one is very emotional /He is very sad very angry / Hurt & Comfort

Characters: OC, Tony Stark, Maria Hill, Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson

Also: Thanks in advance for repost or any feedback ❤️ Let me know if you want to be included in the taglist (DM, comment, repost and tag, whatever works)❤️ You don't need to read the previous chapters but it will definitely enhance the experience if you do.

1: Insomnia | 2: Lucid | 3: Reverie | 4: Nightmare

Hydra’s brainwashing mechanism operates like a code embedded in a computer system. Implanted deep within the nervous system of each asset, it’s triggered by a command—a specific sequence of words, like a complex password. It only takes effect once the entire sequence is spoken. However, each word acts as a layer, tightening control over the asset with every syllable. It gradually overrides the brain's natural functions, until complete control is achieved over both mind and body.

You knew this. You also knew that fighting it only made the effect stronger, accelerating the process. Resisting was like trying to stop venom already spreading through your veins—inevitable and deadly. So, your only option was to buy time.

Time against whatever you were about to become.

“Мечта.”

Four triggered the first word unexpectedly, and you saw it in his eyes—he was going to finish the sequence fast.

But you were faster.

Your fist slammed against the wall, hitting the hidden button you’d been shielding.

"NO!!" Steve’s roar echoed through the room as a thick, crystallized wall dropped from the ceiling, sealing him and Maria on the other side. He pounded against it with all his strength, his fists useless against the reinforced barrier. "Open this!" he was desperate: “Open this fucking thing!!”

But it was useless. This was The Crib, the place where you, Tony, and Bruce pushed the limits of crazy ideas. Naturally, it was equipped with a “Hulk Containment” feature, just in case one of those experiments went too far.

“Jarvis, override!” Maria commanded immediately, pressing her comms. “Stark, 116, 116, in The Crib! Now!” She stepped back and shot the wall, only to leave soft marks but unable to break it at all.

Four smiled, pleased. 

“Шкаф”

A sharp pain crossed your mind, like a thunderstruck that cut you as a knife. For some seconds you think you lost control. You stumbled forward, losing completely balance. And stretched an arm for a glass somewhere over a desk nearby knocking everything off. The glass went flying and smashed to pieces on the floor. You tried to reach it blindly, you were loosing your sight, with trembles and the last thread of senses you handled to grab it, so you squeezed with all your remaining strength.

The glass pierced your skin and palm, leaving a long trail of blood down your arm. You could hear Steve's frantic pounding echoing through the walls, his voice a raw, anguished, shouting your name, but pain is dominating your senses.

But this is good, pain is good. Pain meant you were still here.

"Тетрадь." Four stepped back. He was enjoying this. All this show was worth it, even though he failed and had to face the rage of all the Avengers together later.

Nononono. You pressed harder your fists, the glass embedded left out more blood. Feel the pain, feel the senses. You're good. You're good. You are not this. You are not Hydra. You did not survive up to this day to be used again as something disposable. 

On your knees, you pressed your other hand into the shattered glass, hoping the sharpness would anchor you.

"Open this!" Steve was almost unrecognizable in his panic when Tony and Bruce entered the room. “Get this thing open!” His voice was a mix of rage and fear.

“Shit…” Bruce rushed to the nearest console, typing furiously. “The code’s simple but old—it’s uncrackable. We’ve got 15 seconds before it overrides.”

“What?!” Steve was outraged: “You’ve got to open it! Open it! Tony! Get my girl the fuck out of there!” 

“Oh shit, this is good.” Four’s laughter filled the room. This was a feast for him.

“Радуга.“

“No…” You whispered, holding onto the pain as if it were your lifeline.

You are not this. 

You are good. 

You are…

You are an oak tree, hidden deep in the forest. Sitting around the fire with your siblings, their faces bathed in a golden glow. The words that hung in the peaceful silence on that night. 

Starlight on the Siberian peaks, a full moon overhead. Natasha’s hand pulling you out, the scent of her leather jacket against your frozen skin. 

The first time you saw the ocean. The sensation of sand beneath your feet, waves tickling your toes. 

Christmas lights twinkling on a giant tree, champagne in the compound and Dr. Lin’s drunk laugh. 

The first time Tony led you into the abandoned lab, that door opened to what you thought was perfection. The bad jokes you shared with him and Bruce here in The Crib. The coffee you made for Sam and Nat at your lab.

And Steve. The first time he smiled at you. The way he laughed at your childish bedtime story. The first time he kissed you. His lashes brushing your cheek. The sound of his heartbeat at night, the strength in his embrace.

No. You were not this monster they were trying to turn you into. 

You were the life your brothers and sisters never got to have. 

The sunlight, the breeze, the snowflakes, the spring rain in your garden, and the summer air in you hair they never felt. You were living the memories they couldn’t.

You weren’t this. A puppet someone could easily manipulate over some ridiculous words. 

“No…” You felt your tears crashing in your hand full of shattered glasses. “I’m not…that.” 

You are not Hydra’s Frankestein. 

You are the faith you still hold for humanity—the goodness, the kindness you’ve seen. You are the broken fairy tales One and Two told you and your siblings to soothe your sorrowful nights

You are this precious jewel Steve treasured every time he hugged you, kissed you, or looked at you.

“Конфета,” Four sneered, delivering the next word.

But you fought back.

“No.”

Your eyes locked with his, burning with defiance.

“You wanna play, huh?” Frazer chuckled. 

“стена.”

Another shock hit your mind, but this time it didn’t knock you down. You stumbled but stayed standing, hearing Tony override the code. The wall would be down soon. You had to act before anyone else got hurt because of you.

Four stared in disbelief. He couldn’t understand how you were even resisting. 

So he rushed into it.

“Облако.”

You felt your body betray you, limbs refusing to respond. 

C’mon, focus. Stay focused. Everyone you love is on the other side of the wall, you couldn’t let them get hurt.

You lunged at the desk and ripped open the top drawer. God, what's all that noise? Stop the drums, stop that noise… please… You couldn't stay awake much longer. Damn it, where is it…Your hands desperately looking for something.

‘Зеленый.'

Four said again. And that command felt like a hammer that struck your head. You collapsed to your knees, your bloody hands finally finding it. An injection. Fuck, your vision was blurred; you couldn’t see the dosage.

'лес '. 

Nononono you couldn't wait, it was almost at the last word. So you didn't measure it, and you plunged the injection into your neck. God…! That hurts. You pressed all the content in you. 

Ok now…now we should be good. You were panting and sweating as you dropped the injection and came over your knees. Shit that was closed. Too closed.

Four looked stunned. He didn’t know what you’d done, but before he could react, Steve burst through the room like a storm and crashed his face with all the strength Captain America would have in a battlefield. You even heard the crack sound of their bones crashing. 

“Stop!” Maria shouted before Steve in all his fury, outraged and unstoppable, would kill the guy with his bare hands. “We need to track that retina layer! Stop!” She lunged and seized his arm, preventing him from striking further. 

Your mind recovered some senses as the words stopped, now all you felt was pain, but you managed to let out what you’d been holding in all day.

“Steve…”

That worked as a Hydra’s password to him, Steve felt he was woken up from a dream, and before you knew it, you were pressed into his embrace, his arms holding you tight yet gentle and with care, as if you were fragile as the most precious thing in the world. 

“I’m sorry…” You whispered, trembling as you tried to hold onto him. “I wanted to tell you…I…” God, his skin is so warm. You missed that the entire day. 

Steve froze. The ache on his chest made him paralyzed, he could barely speak. You were worried about him? Now? 

“It's ok…” He was feeling a lump form in his throat, his hand weaving through your hair, pressing you against him and kissing you on the forehead. 

“I’m here baby, it’s ok, you are ok…” He barely could put himself together. You were a mess—bloody, battered— and he was scared, so scared he can’t remember when was the last time he was falling apart like this. 

You were panting as your consciousness was losing it, giving in finally to the injection you put into yourself to paralyze you and prevent you from doing something you can’t manage. 

“Did you…get hurt?” You raised a hand and touched his face. You were fading, the injection taking its toll, dragging you into unconsciousness.

“Shit baby…” Steve pressed his forehead against yours, barely holding himself together. He couldn’t believe what you were saying: “That’s the last of my concerns.” 

But you were already slipping away.

Steve’s heart froze in his chest when he looked down and saw your eyes closed, your body limp against his. A cold wave of terror surged through him, threatening to pull him under. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, it was like the world had stopped spinning. He couldn't hear anything, not Tony, not Bruce, not even his own heartbeat. 

His entire focus narrowed to the sight of you—still, lifeless—like all the color had drained from you. His hand hovered over your face, trembling, afraid to touch you, afraid you wouldn’t respond.

“Hey…” His voice cracked, hoarse and broken. “Babe...?” 

Panic gripped him in a way he hadn’t felt since the war, since waking up alone in a world that had moved on without him. But this was worse, infinitely worse. His fingers found the pulse at your neck, but his heart refused to calm. What if it was fading? What if you were slipping away, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it?

"What...What's happening?" He could hear his own voice, vulnerable as ever. 

“What the f…?” Tony knelt next to Steve, grabbing the discarded syringe. 

Relief washed over him as he read the label.

“Oh, for god’s fucking sake…!” He passed it to Bruce, sinking to the floor. “It’s just a tranquilizer. She’s asleep. Damn, that was close.” He rubbed his face, still shaken. “That was the scariest thing ever. Shit.”

"Holy shit." Bruce and Maria leaned back too, releasing the breath they had been holding.

"Okay..." Commander Hill, always the first to pull herself together, stood up and exhaled in relief as she began to make sense of the chaos. 

"Let’s get her to the med bay. Now." Her voice was determined, but her movements were gentle. She patted a still-in-shock Steve softly on the shoulder. "Come on, Cap. We need to get her out of here. And there’s work to do." She tilted her head toward the unconscious Four on the floor.

Steve didn’t respond. He was panting, his body covered in cold sweat as Tony’s words sank in. It was...tranquilizer? You were ok? He was still holding you close, feeling the warmth of your skin, the quiet and steady rhythm of your breathing. And he could hear your heartbeat. 

He never really believed in God, but in that moment, he wanted to thank every deity in this world or beyond that you were still in his arms. Alive. Safe. 

And, God…he swore right then, he would never let this happen again. Whatever the hell had gone down tonight, he was so fucking sure that was never, EVER, happening again.

"Steve." Tony placed a hand on his shoulder as Sam and Natasha entered the room with the elite team to deal with Four. 

"Come on, buddy, let’s go. Look at her hands—she’s a mess. We’ve got to get her wounds treated." And make sure that brainwash thing is gone, Tony thought, but he didn’t say it aloud. With Steve still so on edge, he didn't want to end like Four on the floor.

Steve closed his eyes for a long moment, then tightened his grip around you, pulling you closer. He lifted you carefully, pressing a kiss to your forehead and inhaling your scent. You smelled like blood, and he felt a deep, crushing guilt. 

"Alright, let’s go." He finally spoke, his voice steady, though full of pain. "But I’m staying close." There was no way he was letting you out of his sight.

You inhaled sharply, and your eyes flew open, heart pounding in your chest. 

The room was bright, sterile, and the soft hum of Stark technology filled the air. 

Disoriented, you stared at the blinking machines and glowing monitors around you. Tubes and wires were connected to your arms, and a soft beep from the heart monitor echoed in the quiet space.

Flashbacks hit you hard. Four. The keywords. You injected yourself to prevent anyone from getting hurt. And you succeeded, didn’t you? Did anyone get hurt?

You remembered Steve being the first to approach you. Four was beaten down, wasn’t he? Is Steve okay? Is everyone ok?

“What the hell is this…” You muttered, frowning as you glanced at the data on the monitors. Then quickly decided you didn’t need any of it. You reached for the tubes, yanking them out one by one. The pain was sharp, but adrenaline dulled it. You didn’t care. You hated anything related to medical clinics, anything that reminded you of being in a lab, a subject of experimentation.

You pulled off the monitors, ignoring the rapid beeping as alarms blared. Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, you stood shakily, your legs weak, your vision blurry.

“Damn…” you muttered, walking in a dizzy haze, trying to balance. You must have injected quite a dose of tranquilizer. How long had you been out? There were no windows, and the room’s enclosed space only heightened your panic. 

Barefoot, you rushed out and collided with Steve, who was rushing in, pale and shaken.

“What...What are you doing?!” His voice was agitated. Pulling out the tubes must’ve triggered an alarm. He immediately scooped you off the cold floor. “Are you okay?” He set you back on the bed and inspected your bruised and bleeding arms. “You’re freezing. You ok? You’re hurt? Do you want me to call the docs?”

“I…I…” You didn’t know what to say, so you just stretched out your arms and pulled him close, holding yourself to him and hugged him as tight as your weak strength allowed. 

“I missed you.”

You said in a low voice, closing your eyes, inhaling his skin, arms around his neck and feeling him. “I woke up and I wanted to see you…I was scared…” 

You felt a strange wave of vulnerability, the kind that made you feel like a child seeking comfort.

Steve stood rigid, his heart and soul settling back into place now that you were awake and in his arms. But he was also…furious. You had no idea how angry he had been, how the team had barely managed to contain his rage. He wanted to stay quiet, but he couldn’t stop himself. 

“You were scared…now? You didn’t seem scared when you used yourself as bait and stood up against this guy alone…!” 

He wanted to shout it out, his voice was thick with frustration, fear, and anger, but he stopped. 

His arms remained gentle, holding you tightly. 

“What were you thinking? I was…You scared the shit out of me…I thought…” 

He cut himself off, tightening his grip around you, pulling you impossibly closer. His lips brushed against your hair as if he couldn’t bear to let go. He clenched his arms, flashing back to that moment when he was breathless, but now you were there. 

Thank God you are here.

Your arms around his neck, body against his, his arms holding onto your waist, He could smell your hair, could feel your warmth against his lips, and he didn’t want this moment to end. 

“I’m sorry… I wanted to tell you… And I knew you were looking for me, but I couldn’t look back. It would’ve given me away.” You looked up, cupping his face with a soft smile. 

Steve exhaled, his heart twisting in his chest. He clenched his jaw, his voice thick with emotion, still fighting to keep composure, he pulled you impossibly closer, holding you against him, his voice a shaky whisper.

 “Just promise me…promise me you won’t do such reckless…dangerous things again…ever.” 

Your fingers softly moved around his face, and gently kissed him, you pressed your forehead to his, calming and soothing his pain. 

You could hear his breath becoming softer and lower with your touch, you stood still, hugging and feeling him as you were comforted too. 

“Were you hurt?” you asked suddenly, remembering Steve knocking out Agent Frazer, unsure of how the events had played out. Breaking the hug, you looked him over. “You’re hurt!” You exclaimed, noticing his swollen, bleeding knuckles. “Steve, let me see. Is this bad? Are you in pain?”

“This?” He opened and closed his fist, showing you it was fine. “This is nothing… it hurt less than hitting a punching bag.”

“The Hulk container IS NOT a punching bag.” You carefully caressed his injured hand, your eyes welling up with tears. “Can you get it checked later? Does it hurt?”

Steve didn’t know what to say. He tightened his other arm around your waist, swallowing the lump in his throat. 

You hadn’t cried when you found out about your brother being alive, or later when you learned he was a fake. You hadn’t cried when you clenched your fist around glass to fight back the brainwashing. You hadn’t even hesitated when you injected yourself to save everyone.

But now, you were tearing up because of his bruised knuckles.

“I’m ok.” He said after a long pause. And it felt so clumsy. But he didn’t know how to describe the feeling he had right now. He couldn’t find the words. He wished there were some way to predict the future, to shield you from every upcoming danger, every pain, for the rest of your life.

“When can we go home?” You rubbed your eyes, you were exhausted, but you didn’t want to sleep here. 

Steve smiled at your mention of “home”, and thought about your secluded, private, little lab, full of sunshine and plants. Your home. Our home. That’s such a wonderful word. His voice softened as he helped you lie down.

“Soon, baby. Just rest, ok? You’ve been through too much today.” He adjusted the pillows and pulled a blanket over you. “Are you okay? Are you cold?”

“Yes.” You frowned and looked up at him. “I’m cold. I want you to hold me.” You moved aside, making room in the bed. “Now.”

You had never used that childish tone before, and it made Steve chuckle. Shaking his head, he climbed into bed beside you, holding you in his arms, your head resting on his chest. “Spoiled little brat.” He teased with a smile, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “My spoiled little brat.”

You inhaled deeply, resting your head against his chest, your favorite spot in the world where you could hear his heartbeat—the sound that made everything in the universe make sense. And when he thought you were asleep, you spoke, your voice clear.

“Do you want to hear a bedtime story?”

Your voice carried a sense of determination, and Steve sighed. He had it coming. Just not this soon. 

But then, he thought back to everything, and realized you were one of the bravest people he'd ever met. It didn’t surprise him that you were ready to talk.

“Only if you're sure.”

“Yes.” You smiled, propping yourself up on your elbow to meet his eyes. “I should’ve told you from the beginning.” You exhaled deeply. “I was just scared of becoming a disappointment.”

“What?” He turned to you, incredulous. “No… don’t say that. You could never be a disappointment. Ever.” His gaze was steady and unyielding. “Don’t ever think that.”

You kissed his fingers, pausing for a long moment before beginning.

“Once upon a time…” You stopped as he chuckled. “I’m kidding. Bedtime stories are supposed to be soothing. This one would give nightmares.”

Steve held your hand as he looked at you: “I’m here. And…no nightmare could ever keep me away from you.”

You smiled but stayed quiet for a long while, gathering your thoughts. Steve remained silent, wrapping his arm around you, gently twisting a strand of your hair between his fingers, waiting patiently for you to begin.

“We were twelve, as you might have guessed. I'm the last one.” Your voice was distant, soft, like whispering a dream from another lifetime.

“It started with One and Two. They were perfect, like gods—healthy, strong, fast, fierce. They had rapid healing, heightened reflexes, tolerance to extreme temperatures, and incredible immune systems. Like you. Or Apollo and Artemis. And of course, they weren’t enough. Hydra wanted more. They’ve always wanted more.”

You made a pause, those memories felt like thousands years ago.

“By the time they made Three, Four, and Five… One and Two had begun to… fail. They developed flaws.”

The fingers twirling your hair froze. Steve held his breath. He had thought about this ever since Natasha handed him your file, asking, ‘What do you think happened to the other eleven?’ He hadn’t answered, a terrible feeling gnawing at him that the others’ fates might have been far worse than yours.

“What kind of flaws?” You could hear his heartbeat quicken.

“Just…they weren’t flaws for me. But they stopped being perfect. Their immune system presented infections, something never happened before. Their recovery speed was not as fast as before, or they weren’t healing 100%. Or…speed decrease, lack of strength. And of course their minds started to … be uncontrollable or not manageable at all.” You sighed. 

Steve’s hand tightened slightly, a ripple of horror passing through him.

“Three, Four and Five presented earlier symptoms. Three was fast, but he lacked strength. Four was strong, but he wasn’t able to heal as fast as the rest. And Five was super smart but she was…weak. Well, not weak, normal.”

You paused, and smiled: “It was true, you know? The story Agent Frazer told. I was a great tree climber, and we used to have fun in that oak tree. But…” 

You felt Steve’s hand holding you tighter, and you hugged him back, your tone turned low.

“Four did that tricky thing of putting a rock on a pile of leaves. Seven hit against it so hard, and that’s right… he won’t stop bleeding, we headed to the base, and of course, got grounded as hell.” You inhaled: “Four died because of that. They sacrificed him, they were planning on doing so anyway, but it was used as a warning. They’ve put everything that ‘worked’ in Four, to ‘fix’ Seven.”

“What?” 

Steve felt every fiber on his body tensed, his chest growing tighter and tighter as you spoke, horrified at the realization of what Hydra had done.

“And of course, Seven didn’t last long either. He died about a year later. I think… he just couldn’t live with what was left of Four.” 

Your smile was thin, sad. “I saw the autopsy report. There was nothing physically wrong with him. He just…shriveled, or…died from a broken heart.”

You inhaled deeply, bracing yourself for the next revelation.

“And today…I didn’t stop Frazer right away because… I was curious.” 

You buried your face in Steve’s chest, as you were ashamed of this little wish.

“I wanted to know…I’ve always wanted to know, how my brothers and sisters would be like…if they’d grown up. I knew Frazer was a fraud, but I couldn’t help it. He was identical to Four…and Four…he was just a kid, a bright, playful, funny kid.”

Steve clenched his arms and held you tightly as you were shivering uncontrollably. He was shaking too, his teeth chattering, it was beyond anger, he felt his heart filled with sadness and despair. 

He tried to speak several times before his voice finally steadied. 

“You were a kid too.”

“I was not a kid.” You responded, surprisingly quiet. “I was the kid. I was…the final version.” You looked at his horrified eyes as his expression shifted. 

You lowered your eyes at his sight, and calmly continued the story: “One and Two passed away when I was young, very young, I still don’t know what happened to them. But Hydra…just continued experimenting, Seven was good, but then he … turned off when Four died, Eight died as a toddler I think. So they just kept going, taking things out of this one, adding to the other… until they got it to the right perfect model… or at least… to one that wasn’t deteriorating with time and maintained a regularity.”

You curved your lip as you looked at Steve.

“The last number of the great Hydra’s Dynasty. Frankenstein number Twelve.”

“I’m alive. Because my brothers and sisters died.” 

Steve was in horror.

This pang in his chest, he didn’t know if he wanted to destroy something, vomit, or just…take the time stone, go back in time, and burn all Hydra’s bases he’d known down to the ground until they were ashes and dust. Until the very last of them were fucking burning and screaming in hell.

“They died so Hydra could have a perfect soldier?” His voice was barely more than a growl. “They were…torn apart so you could exist?”

“Well, it’s not like I have Eight’s eyes or Ten’s arms.” You looked at your hands. “It’s like…their DNA, their…existence, were transmitted to me. A prototype that succeeded, but the original versions…just didn’t make it.”

Your voice was like a faint ghost as you observed yourself.

“You know my powers, right? I can see…the components or layers of solid things when I want to. Not all the time, but it gives me a great advantage with stuff like machinery, weapons, gear, construction…I think I have Five’s intelligence too, and some of Three’s speed, or even a shadow of One and Two’s strength. And Eleven’s sense of humor—I’ve always thought we were twins…but this power…It’s only in me.”

“And it used to work on humans too, if I wanted it to.” You sighed in sadness and sorrow. “There’s something I haven’t told anyone, no one knows…not even Tony.” 

You intertwined your fingers with Steve’s, confessing in a calm voice.

“There’s something…in every living being, within their layers and layers of components, something impossible to explain—something divine, and impossible to replicate. And that’s like a golden thread.”

You traced a line in the air as Steve held his breath. 

“I see it as a line of golden glitter. Some shine more than others, like yours…yours is like a strong ray of sunshine, like all the stars in the sky unified within your being. That’s life. Or…the divine power of life.”

Steve held his breath in awe. There was something incredibly beautiful within the horrors you had to endure. He suddenly remembered all the plants in your lab and home, the leaves cascading from the ceiling, growing strong everywhere. He could picture it—the stunning view you’d have, all those waterfalls and cascades of golden strings, of living life.

He hesitated before speaking, his voice as gentle as he could make it: “And…you don’t use your powers on humans anymore?”

“No. I shut it down. Or it shut itself down…” You shook your head. “Hydra used my powers to make their experiments more…efficient. But my brain, or my powers, were too important. They didn’t dare experiment on me with something that might go wrong. I only had one brain procedure—the one that implanted all these keywords.”

You pressed your lips together and closed your eyes. 

“They didn’t brainwash me…So I remember everything. I was forced to participate in the experiments on my siblings. I didn’t know…I thought I was helping them heal, but they lied. I was part of it…!” 

Your breath quickened as the memories flooded back.

“I could see them. I could see how their life threads faded, losing their shine little by little. Strong, sparkling golden glitter slowly fading, disappearing. Like a spark extinguished…absorbed by nothingness. And after my last sister, Nine, passed away, I just…this power of seeing layers on human, it went off. I can only see threads in living beings now, nothing else.”

A terrible silence fell across the room. Only the soft beeps of the medical machines echoed through.

Steve sat up straight. He didn’t want to let go of your hand, your touch, but his body just reacted. It was too much, even for him. Your words were calm and serene, but the horrors and the cruelty behind them cut through him like a knife, piercing his soul and breaking him down.

He didn’t know what to say because…what was left to say? There was no comfort, no kindness, nothing that could soothe what you’d been through.

The fact that you remembered everything, that you saw brainwashing as a gift because you had witnessed every death, with genuine hope and devotion that you were helping, only to find out the goal was for you to be the perfect prototype. The guilt you must’ve felt, the despair of watching those threads try to hold on to life before they faded…

The image of you standing alone in this world after your last sibling was gone, facing all that darkness by yourself…he couldn’t imagine it.

“And then, everything is history.” Your eyes were fixed on the ceiling.

“The project ended when Dr. Erskine actually succeeded in creating something…combined. I went into a cryostasis pod that eventually shut down. I don’t know for how long. Then one day, I just woke up in an empty facility, in the dark, and escaped. Natasha found me in the mountains. I think the lab sent out some kind of signal Tony detected, and she was sent to scan the place.”

You were relieved that your story had finally ended, or at least, the nightmare part. 

But Steve was stiff. 

He felt…waves of guilt crashing over him.

What year was that? When did all of that happen to you? Where was he? Could he have changed anything? If he had tried harder…if he had discovered Hydra's remnants in SHIELD earlier…could he have saved you?

“And I was…where?” He murmured to himself, trying to remember. “Wakanda…and then…it was the Blip…and I…I never knew…that you were here…until the night we met.”

“Steve…” You frowned, sitting up and placing a hand on his back. “I’ve told you already, what happened to me is not a weight for you to carry. I’m here now. And I’m with you. I’m safe.”

“Safe?” He could hardly bear the guilt and pain he felt. “Safe how? Look at you…you’re…” He took your hand, bandaged and scarred from all the glass and needles you’d endured. “How can you say you are safe…with me?”

He exhaled, his voice low as he suddenly tightened, his stomach twisting in pain. He didn’t know where to begin expressing the emotions, the guilt, the responsibility he felt for all of this.

“I should’ve been there. I should’ve stopped this. If I had tried harder, been faster, I should have protected you, saved you…if I’d just been there…”

“You did.” You put a hand on his shoulder, turning him around to face you. You could see all the emotions swirling inside him. “You did.” You spoke softly but firmly. 

“You ended Hydra, twice. I wasn’t used during the War, or after. And when you ended them for good, I was free. You set me free.”

Steve was panting. He couldn’t feel anything else but pain. There was a huge lump in his chest and throat that intensified when you said that. The word you used—“used”—how could anyone in the world apply that verb to you? His heart ached so deeply that it took all his willpower not to break something.

You could see him suffering, so you caressed his cheek.

“And…” You cupped his face, your voice gentle. 

“And I had this new identity. I met Natasha, Tony…all these new friends, all this good in the world. I don’t need to hide anymore. I can live under the sunshine, see the sunrise, feel the wind, touch the grass. I even saw the sea for the first time, I had ice cream… And…” 

You inhaled, a tear slipping down your cheek. “I got to meet the love of my life.”

“God…!”

The word escaped Steve like a desperate prayer.

Steve pulled you in, holding you so tightly that it felt like he wanted you to melt into his body. 

He clenched his jaw, trying to fight back all the emotions tearing him apart. But it was nothing compared to the agony that tore him apart inside. 

You had suffered so much—more than he could bear to imagine—and yet you were here: Kind. Good. Pure. Selfless. All those beautiful words Natasha and Tony used to describe you and yet he thought they weren’t enough. 

He pressed his face into your hair, his breath ragged, trying to fight back the tears that stung his eyes. Why hadn’t he been there? Why hadn’t he saved you sooner? He could have spared you so much pain, so much suffering, if only he had known, if only he had been there before the scars ever formed.

He clutched you tighter, as if holding you close enough might erase the past, might undo all the hurt. But he knew it wouldn’t. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t take it away. And all he could do was hold you, trying desperately to protect you from any more harm, even as the weight of his guilt bore down on him, suffocating and relentless.

You held him back. You could feel his heart trembling and his soul aching. So you pressed a deep kiss to his cheek.

“It’s in the past,” you said softly. “I’m here now… hey, hey, look at me.” 

You cupped his face, and your vision blurred as tears fell. 

“I’m sorry… I didn’t want to upset you, but I’m here now, and I’m just… so grateful, so happy… I’ve never felt this way until I met you, so… fearless, like… like the universe has rewarded me with this… rebirth, with meeting you, and loving you, and…”

“Stop.” It was more than Steve could take.

His voice was broken. 

“Stop. I…” He inhaled deeply and gently wiped away your tears. He needed to say something before your selfless, pure words continued to break his heart.

“I love you.” He breathed. 

The words came out like a sacred vow, a promise sealed with every heartbeat. He’d been holding them back for too long—since this morning, no, since the first day, since the moment he held his breath when he saw you for the first time. 

He spoke it like a promise written in the stars, one he would carry until the end of all things. Until his blood thickens into frozen ice, his bones crumble to ashes, and his soul dissolves into starlight, fading into cosmic dust at the very edge of time and the farthest reaches of eternity—he will love you.

You gazed into his eyes, a smile breaking through the tears. “I love you too.” 

You wiped away the tear that traced down his cheek. 

“And we’ll have new memories. We’ll make a new life. And we’ll be together. And we’ll be happy.”

“Yes.” He smiled through the pain and heartbreak, swearing as a sacred vow, his voice a little choked as he clung to you just as tightly.

“Yes. We will. I promise. We’re gonna be so damn happy…”

Steve waited until you had fallen asleep. 

After everything—the confessions, the heart-wrenching words—you had been exhausted. He’d made sure you rested, gently insisting until your breathing slowed into sleep.

In the silence of the night, he walked quietly to the command room. It was empty now, the weight of the day still hanging in the air. He pulled up the files—yours, and your eleven siblings’—onto the big screen.

A deep sigh slipped from his lips.

There you were. Blurred, black-and-white images of childhoods interrupted, dreams shattered, lives stolen far too soon.

“Jarvis.” His voice broke the stillness, steady yet heavy. “Do I have overwrite authorization to change the ID names?”

“Yes, Captain.” Jarvis replied, his tone as polite as ever. “Would you like to change the names of these files and subjects?”

“Yes.” Steve’s gaze lingered on your face, captured in that haunting picture. “Change them all. M and the ID number.” He said with resolve, his words carrying the weight of a decision long made.

“In an instant, Captain.” came Jarvis’s response. The screen flickers briefly as the files change, HE00X to M00X, twelve names, twelve identities, rewritten in seconds.

Steve stared at the screen, his expression grave, but something deeper stirred inside him. 

This was it—the meaning he wanted to give your siblings, like an unspoken monument on their unseen graves. 

Something none of you knew, because the world hadn’t been kind, or good, or fair enough to tell you. But he had known it right away, the moment you spoke about that beautiful golden thread that was within every living being.

You weren’t experiments. 

You were this new name, and he couldn’t thank the universe enough for that.

The twelve of you were this name.

M.

For Miracle.

The End

Continue to:

6: Dusk |

7: Hypnagogia |

8: Lull |

9: Vigil |

10: Eclipse |

Divider Credits: to the wonderful @cafekitsune

Woohoo...OMG I cried so much writing this ;_; thank you for reading thus far, hope you enjoyed the...intensity and the angst? xD

So I've been struggling with the name of the series, I was going to call it something like 'the golden thread', but then this image of Steve changing their ID names with this conviction and seriousness appeared in my mind as I was wrapping up Chapter 5, and it was something that's...so him, that's definitenly something he would do. So the name just popped up itself, I think I'll call it 'Miracle Nr. 12'. What do you think?

Ok so Chapters 6 & 7 are wrapped up already, I'll see you next Friday! Let me know if you want to be part of the taglist ;)

Taglist: @steviebbboi / @jamneuromain / @heletsmelovehim

Love.,

Moon.

[quilteddreamz]

Be fed.

Come gather my fearful ao3 friends! Come indulge in what I have salvaged from the flames!

Fic below:

"Not A Morning Person"

Part 1/3

Your closed lids scrunch as sunlight casts over them, harsh against your waking mind, you turn. hiding away in a plush pillow. 

Mornings were your nemesis. Your mind, sluggish to wake, dreading leaving the warmth of your sanctum. Sounds of birds and the world bustling outside weren’t enough to convince you it was worth it. The warmth carried a lulling comfort, ready to take your mind under again. 

Silicon brushed against the bottom of your foot. You retract your foot back into the warmth, hiding away from whatever had disturbed it. You groan in discontent, nuzzling your face further into the pillow.

Static crackles in a soft chortle. 

Silicon hands return to cup your cheeks, one lifting your head from the pillow.

“No,” You whine, pulling back. You weasel your head under the covers, curling up in a grumpy ball

“Sunshine, “ Sun sings, softly. You could feel him tugging on the duvet. “The birds are singing-”

“No.”

“The sun is shining-“

“Go away.”

“And you-“ The duvet is roughly pulled up, revealing your groggy eyes, “-need to brush your hair,” His grin widened at your disheveled state.

The duvet is tossed to the end of the bed, better revealing your frown. You flip over onto your stomach, face down into the mattress. 

Your sanctum is stolen, ripped away by the beaming Sun. But that wouldn’t stop you from lazing around.

Sun huffed. The bed dipped beside you. Hands looped under your waist, lifting. You gripped the fitted sheet like a bristling cat.

“Don’t act like a toddler,” Sun chided. He did a sharp tug, breaking your hold. 

Sun shifted to sit on his calves, holding you like a doll in his lap. Your head rested against his chest chasm, faintly hearing the whirring of mechanical life. 

His hands rubbed your sides, another futile attempt to cure your drowsiness.

“My, my, you're awfully tired this morning, Sunshine,” He mumbled.

His hand cupped under your chin, angling your head back slightly.  Cold fingers petted the dark circles under your eyes. His smile twitched.

“What time did you fall asleep?” 

You stilled. Truth sat bitterly on your tongue. You swallowed and lied: “The usual time.”

“Mhm,” His upturned eyes tilted. He unfurled his leg and stepped off the bed, taking you with him. Your legs wrapped around his torso, feet barely touching. His strides are long as he takes further from where you want to be.

Passing the hall mirror shows you how unbelievable your lie was. Below your tired eyes were dark, soot-like circles. Pale skin painted your normal vibrance. You looked dull at best— worst a zombie.

The kitchen held the faint scent of Sun’s cooking, yet looked spotless. You swore the robot was incapable of causing a mess.

You’re lowered down at the table. Your heavy eyes blink at the eggs in front of you. Cold and sad. They had sat here a while.

Sheepishly you smile, “Thank you.”

“Of course, Sunshine!” Sun peppily replied, though from the way his hands clenched the back of your chair, you doubted it was genuine. “I’ll go make you a coffee.” His bells jingled as he walked to the counter.

You picked at the eggs with a fork, watching the cold yolk run free. Guilt mixed with your tiredness. You hadn’t meant to stay up late. It wasn’t your fault your favourite show was running a marathon late into the AMs. Now you held the ire of the animatronic— and likely his brother as well.

Taking a bite your guilt grew. It tasted wonderful.

Jingling bells had you lift your head. Sun returned with a steaming mug, setting it down. You thanked him, softly blowing on it.

You sipped— face twisting at the harsh bitterness. The sugar Sun normally added was missing. You nearly spit, but Sun’s taut grin stopped you. 

“Good?” 

You nodded, perusing your lips.

This was going to be a hard day.

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

Hope y'all enjoyed! Part 2 should be up tonight or tomorrow on ao3. If ao3 is not up it will be on here :3

If you have time later go give this a kudo on ao3! it's in my linktree.

Hope you all have a wonderful day/night 💜

[crow-aeris]

Hubris was the downfall of many men.

He remembers indulging in one of Jason’s many long-winded rants about literature, hearing his brother ramble on and on about how pride was the thing that killed John Proctor. Sure, Abigail made have been the leading cause of all those deaths, but John could have lived- could have seen his sons grow up- had he went through with the plan and lied… and yet, it was only because of a man’s pride did he leave behind his wife and sons.

And now as he lays alone and dying far, far away from family and friends… Tim couldn’t help but think hubris was what led him to… this.

His independence, once a blessing- now a curse, had him set out by himself with no foreword or warning to any hero or civilian whatsoever.

He feels… cold? Empty… Irritated. Oh what a time to be irritated, though Tim wasn’t all too sure who exactly his irritation was directed towards…

Bruce? Sure, he hadn’t been the best of fathers, but… he was all time had. Bruce hadn’t known Tim was going on this stupid trip, so he couldn’t be blamed.

Dick? Tim’s own personal hero? No, never. Dick might’ve hurt him before, but Tim couldn’t force himself to hold that grief even if he tried. Dick was spending the weekend with his friends, so Tim doubts he’ll find out about this until much later.

Jason? Despite being a grade a asshole, Jason cared. He had vehemently opposed Tim’s trip, and now he could see how it came back to bite him in the ass.

He laughs shrilly, tone nearing hysterical as Tim feels himself stop shivering… That wasn’t good, right? He read somewhere before that the moment you stop shivering, is the most dangerous.

Tim forces himself tighter into a ball, fighting to stay awake as he clung desperately onto his fleeing thoughts.

What about Stephanie? She got on his nerves occasionally, but those moments were few and far between.

Damian? Well, despite… everything, Tim has been trying to repair their relationship with what little scraps existed prior.

Cass? God, no. Tim could never be angry at her. She does her best, and honestly? Tim commends her for it.

Duke was a sweetheart. Kind, determined, and optimistic even after everything he’s gone through. he was the embodiment of sunshine through and through.

…

……

………

…………What was he thinking about?

He was… sleepy. Tired….

…Where was Bernard? Where was Kon? He was… numb. Was he supposed to feel this numb?

Taking a little nap wouldn’t hurt, right? It wouldn’t hurt at all….

“Oh, Detective, look what mess have you gotten yourself into? This is why you never should have left my side”

[kinkedup911]

911 fandom, I need your help!!

I had recorded a special Christmas episode of my 911 fanfiction podcast but upon sitting down to edit I discovered that the audio was corrupted leaving me with no content and no time to record anything new!

Then I thought, what a great opportunity to include more of the fandom.

I would love as many people as possible to record a little voice message, you can do it on your phone, just make sure there's no background noise, and then email it to me and I can include it in the podcast. Doesn't have to be a long message, just something like the following:

“Hi, I'm Calina, you can find me on ao3, tumblr, instagram, and X as calinaannehart.

My favourite 911 fanfic is XXX, written by XXX (read the summary here). I love this fic because XYZ.

From me to you, happy holiday's and Happy New Year!”

You can email the clips to kinkedup911@gmail.com

You don’t have to recommend a smut or kink fic, any fic is grand, and all ships are welcome!

Help a girl out and see if we can find one last Christmas miracle!

All recordings need to be sent in my midnight 23rd December in your time zone to give me enough time to compile them!

Thank you!!!

[suchawrathfullamb]

no because you do not understand how much I need domestic cop!Will/surgeon!Hannibal. you do not

[melle-otterwise]

Post S15 Destiel domestic

Dean is trying to give Miracle a bath, except somehow Miracle manages to dodge the bathtub and splash all its containing water on poor Dean. Of course, Cas is not helping 😌

(Also, it might or might not be Cas's grace inside a vial, around Dean's neck 👀)

Thanks @hectatess for the idea 💙

[phantom248]

Adventures of Zhuo Yichen in Gong family, part 2

(Continuation of this)

Gong Ziyu almost choked on air when he saw a white figure jumping up and down under the only fruit tree in Jue palace's courtyard. This addition was few years old, none of them able to understand why a man like Gong Shangjue who thought of such things as frivolity would plant a tree like that in his courtyard. The small figure continued their attempts at swiping the fruit from the tree, with varying success. Dressed in pale cream and white robes with cream colored fur cloak and a gleaming gold headband, the slim figure looked like a fairy that had deigned to bless the mere peasents like them with its presence.

Curious, Gong Ziyu sneaked closer, because how was it possible Gong Shangjue, who was a notorious stickler for rules, to allow anyone inside the palace? It couldn't even be a servent, with that gleaming gold headband that although looked thin, was expensive for any servent.

Upon closer look, Gong Ziyu really choked on air when he realized that the figure he called ethreal in his heart (ok who was he kidding? He really thought that brat was pretty for a moment) was Gong Yuanzhi.

Feeling mischievous, he snuck up to his brat of a cousin and called his name, delighting in the way the smaller figure let out a shriek and then outright cackling when Gong Yuanzhi ran behind the tree and hugged the trunk, peeking out from the side to look at him.

Gong Ziyu couldn't help but admit that the little brat really looked cute. Only in his heart though because if Yuanzhi could read his thoughts, he would have already taken his head off.

"And what are you doing here instead of the clinic?" He leaned forward, leering at him, having way too much fun.

Yuanzhi stammered out. "I was... I wanted that fruit..."

Gong Ziyu easily jumped up and snagged a plum one, waving it in the air mockingly. "Oh this? But I thought you could already reach the branches by now? Are you still a pip squeak?"

"You-!" Gong Yuanzhi indignantly shouted, his red cheeks puffing up, coming at him. Gong Ziyu jumped back, a smarmy grin appearing on his face. "Ah ah ah! I am older than you, call me gege!"

To his surprise, the brat deflated, looking down at his feet. "... gege."

Gong Ziyu's eyes widened at the low sound. He couldn't believe his ears! The brat who always insulted him and never let a chance to disrepect his entire family was calling him gege! And so adorably too! Maybe the brat was sick, his brain addled with some poison or something.

Perhaps it was the all that wine that he consumed, or maybe the idea that today he could mess with his normally thorny, poisonous hedgehog like cousin was too tempting to let go that he siddled closer. He teased him, enjoying the way his cheeks reddened from embarrassment. He swiped more fruit, finally sharing it with Yuanzhi, and regaling him with embellished tales of his adventures outside the residence that was too tempting to ignore for a child who had never seen the outside world, taking delight in the way Yuanzhi's eyes narrowed and widened like a kitten, letting out oohs and awwhs at the appropriate places.

As he was convincing his younger cousin to go with him outside without informing Gong Shangjue, both of them were caught unawares as a heavy black cloak landed on Yuanzhi's head, who let out an oomf, staggering under the weight of heavy fabric. Before he could even right the fabric, their assailants were on them.

"Didi," Gong Shangjue's voice freeze them both. "Did I not tell you to stay inside?"

Gong Yuanzhi immediately turned, facing his brother. "And I didn't! I stayed in the courtyard, he was the one to come here. I only wanted some fruits! And I met no one else, promise!"

Their older cousin raised an eyebrow, looking pointedly at Gong Ziyu.

"But I thought he was family, not a stranger! Isn't it safe with him? He was talking about some pavilion outside and jiejies there-"

"Jin Fu." Gong Shangjue's voice was so cold that Gong Ziyu shuddered with fright. That's it. This was the end. The man was going to murder him for mentioning the brothel to his didi. Thank you everyone for all the support they gave to him, because today that would end as no one will be able to find his body.

The Jade Guard only nodded and darted forward, easily picking up their youngest cousin like a sack of potatoes who let out a squeak, protesting his treatment. Gong Ziyu only heard a single sentence from the jade guard in answer "And how will we answer your gege if something happened to you outside?"

It was weird thing to say, considering the gege in question was the one to catch them, but he was too worried about his life to care about the mystery. He was frozen like a dear, trapped under the dark gaze of his oldest cousin. Finally, Gong Shangjuebstepped closer, making him wilt even before he opened his mouth.

"I do not care what you get upto on your own, Gong Ziyu, but do not drag Gong Yuanzhi in your antics. Understood?"

"Crystal" he squeaked out, almost breaking out in a run when his older cousin waved his hand dismissively. He finally stopped at some distance, hands braced on his knees, panting. He threw a last look at the Jue residence, catching sight of a pouting Yuanzhi being handed fruit from his gege who was firmly shuffling him inside, not letting him even peek back. His gaze me the Gong Shanjue again, and this time, he bolted, vowing to not even stray close to the brat lest his brother dug out his entrails and hung him from them.

Why had Gong Shangjue forbidden their youngest cousin from meating others? Why was he behaving as if Gong Yuanzhi was a pure maiden though, hiding him from everyone's gaze?

Alas, he loved his entrails inside his body too much to investigate this mystery.

Edit: part 3