#my bookshelf is on its last legs and a load of books are under my bed

[zaddyazula]

i used to be really into booktok (didn’t have tiktok but would watch compilations on youtube for book ideas) and as embarrassing and terrible as that is it’s responsible for me finding my favourite books ever 😭😭😭

[genshin-no-simp]

Diluc x Reader (Smut)

Pairing: Diluc x You/Reader (Female)

Sexual content under the cut.

The room was quiet, bar the occasional scratching of Diluc's pen against the paperwork he was filing through. You didn't feel like being alone while he worked and Diluc enjoyed your company, he found your presence rather soothing and he notices that he works quicker through the papers.

Expect today, when you came to him in that cute yet revealing dress. The straps held secure around your arms revealing your bare shoulder and a whole load of neck and cleavage. And to make matters worse or better depending on how you looked at it, you had styled your hair into an elegant bun, showing off all that delicious skin. And when his eyes trailed down that slim waist of yours he saw how much leg was on display, the dress was long at the back reaching mid calf and short at the front where it reached a little above your knees.

Diluc was tempted to decline your request to sit in his office, but you just looked to stunning not to have sitting pretty on the couch for him to observe. But there was so much work to do today and he was struggling to get through it. His eyes kept lifting to where you now sat, where they kept lingering on your shoulders and neck that has healed from his last claiming of you.

He furrowed his eyebrows slightly, did you do this on purpose? Wearing that dress, tying your hair up, exposing yourself to him. It's like you were begging him to claim you, mark you up. The more he thought about it the more honry he got. His eyebrows furrowed deeply now as he clutched his pen tighter just like how his pants seemed to have grown tighter. He looked back down and frustratingly scribbled on the sheets. That's when he heard you shuffle from your seat and to the bookcase.

You let out a gentle hum once you had returned the book you had just finished reading back to its original spot. You gazed among the many titles Diluc has collected over the years and pondered on what to read next. Your eyes stopped, fixated on a book that you had been looking for, for quite a while now, only problem was that it was out of your reach. But you didn't want to disrupt him so you reached up on your tip toes. But you were still no where near being able to reach it but you weren't about to give up. Grabbing a hold of one of the shelves with your left hand and leaning up on one foot, which gave you more height you reached higher with your right hand but yet it was still just out of reach.

Diluc smirked to himself as he watched you struggle to reach the book. You could always ask him instead of struggling but he found it cute watching you try yourself. He couldn't help but want to tease you just like you were doing to him regardless if it was accidental or not. Stealthily he removed himself from his desk and over to you where he pressed his chest against your back.

You hadn't heard him move, so once you felt his body flush against yours, you jumped in fright. Leaning your head forward you let out a deep breath.

"Darling you scared me." Once you regained your composure you tilted your head to the side to look back at him.

Diluc chuckled deeply, "my apologies sweetheart. I just wanted to help, seems your struggling to reach a book." His mouth was so close to your ear you could feel his hot breath fan against it.

Shivers shot down your spine as your cheeks flushed red, you could feel a warm tingling sensation bubble deep down inside you.

"O-oh yes," you looked away from him turning your attention back toward the book you had set your sights on, "it's this one." You used your pointer finger to direct him to the book you were after.

Diluc hummed softly as he pushed further against you. Your bit your lip to hold back a soft groan of pleasure. It wasn't fair, he felt so hot and enticing and the way his firm chest felt against your back pushing you up against the bookcase was getting you all hot and bothered. You were quickly forgetting all about the book you sought after.

"This one?" His lips grazed against your ear which brought you back to your senses.

"H-huh?" You blinked rapidly bringing yourself back down to earth.

Diluc smirked before calming replying, he was enjoying how easily he was affecting you right now, "the book, was it this one?" He purposely pointed to the wrong book his lips trailing from your lips to your neck. Where he placed light kisses.

You shook your head, "no it was this one," your voice came out a bit shakey as you once again showed him the book that was two books to the left of the one he was at.

"Ah yes, this one," he sarcastically teased as he once again took a hold of the wrong book.

You were getting frustrated with him, sexually and mentally, "no this one, this one." You leaned up even further, your finger just grazing the spine of the red designed book.

"Oh this one hm?" Diluc smirked. Using his left hand he placed it on your hip while the other had trailed along your forearm where he grabbed your wrist. Then without warning his left his leg pushed between yours and upwards. You moaned feeling his knee push against your womanhood so suddenly. He pushed you higher up, like this you could finally reach the book. And that's when you could feel it. You could feel how hard he was right now. And the question was, what do you want more?

The book or Diluc?

When you hadn't taken a hold of the book Diluc took the opportunity to take his hand off your wrist and intertwine his fingers with yours. You immediately squeezed them back.

"What's wrong doll?" Diluc rubbed his knee against you.

Your grip on the bookshelf tightened as you wriggled your hips desperate for more friction but your dress proved to be a major obstacle.

"L-luc," your face had turned a deep red as you looked back at him. Your lips parted as you panted, eyes glossy with need and want.

A primal growl erupted from Diluc as he latched onto your neck his right hand that held onto your hip moved to yank the back of your dress up. When it was up and out the way he moved his knee back between your legs.

You let out a loud moan as he pressed you harder against the bookcase with his body. You could feel his erection properly now without your dress in the way. You couldn't help but moan as your grinded back against him.

Diluc groaned against your neck as he abused a new spot on your pristine skin. He met your hips with his. Your pussy throbbed painfully begging to be touched, you were embarrassed by how wet you were already, and he hadn't even touched you yet. As if he could read your mind he removed his hand from yours and instead to your lips.

"Take them off so I can feel how needy you are for me." His was voice deep and filled with lust. Diluc rarely ever let his lust take full control of him like this but it couldn't help it, you were such a delectable tease.

You gave a small nod opening your mouth to allow his fingers to enter. You bit down on the leather pulling it from his fingers. You always loved his fingers, they were long and slender. Not only could they reach deep inside you but just feeling them against your skin. The way they moved and caressed you, leaving your skin a burning mess wherever he touched. It always left you craving more.

When his glove was off he moved it away down to your thigh. You let out a little whine, you wanted his fingers back. Diluc chuckled knowing this.

"So needy aren't you?" his bare hand stroked your clothed pussy, you gasped throwing your head back against his shoulder.

Diluc took this opportunity to slide two fingers into your mouth and you moaned softly around them. Diluc rubbed slow and teasing circles around your clit, making sure not to put too much pressure on it, he wanted to watch you beg for him. But unlike the fingers in your mouth they worked a little quicker, sliding in and out your saliva coating his leather glove making it easier to do so.

You moaned around his fingers, sucking them, dragging your tongue between them as you tried your best to grind against his fingers. It was tortuous the pace he was going and how light he was. The ache was unbearable you just wanted him to touch you, to fuck you, to bury his cock deep inside of you. Diluc removed his fingers from your mouth a trail of saliva connecting you to them. You panted heavily looking up at him, your face extremely flushed.

"Look at you, you're such a mess." He teased but don't misunderstand, he loved it. He loved knowing he was the only one who could break you down like this.

"D-Diluc please," you whimpered grabbing his hand in an attempt to push him closer to your throbbing heat.

Diluc growled deeply as he buries his face into your neck once again. You gasp one moment feeling his teeth bite against your flesh and moan lewdly the next as he cups your pussy with his hand, pressing a finger as far as he can with your panties still in the way. Your back arches off his chest as your head falls to the side, which in turn gave him even better access to your neck. It was so close, so damn close to your hole. So close to being able to slide inside but no something had to get in the way and he had to be such a tease. Pulling his finger away to push back but never able to enter due to your panties.

"Diluc please, please, I wan- mmph," your words were cut off by his fingers being shoved back into your mouth.

This time he wasn't as gentle as he began thrusting his fingers into your mouth deeply. You moaned desperately around his fingers, tears springing to your eyes.

"You'll take what I give you." He nipped your ear lobe. Despite his words, he himself was becoming incredibly desperate. He was so hard it was painful and his skin tight pants hardly made it any better but for some reason seeing you like this, so vulnerable, so open he was able to bare with it.

Diluc finally pushed your panties to the side and slipped into your folds and into your drenched hole. Your eyes rolled back into your head. Drool seeped out the corners of your mouth staining his glove even further. With the fingers buried deep into your core he stretched them out. Your cries were muffled by the fingers in your mouth, your hips pushing back against him rubbing against his hard on.

Diluc groaned deeply as he met your hips, "Do you want me baby?" He asked as he thrust his fingers into you, rubbing against your walls as he felt them flutter against him. You nodded your head vigorously.

Diluc chuckled deeply, "come now doll, use your words." He smirked as he rubbed your tongue with his finger before pulling them out your mouth once again.

You gasped for air, "yes I want you, Archons Diluc please fuck me already." You begged. You were so hot and bothered and the only thing that could satisfy your needs was his cock.

Without needing any other clarification he removed his finger from you, you whined in silent protest at the loss but you knew something better was on it's way. So while Diluc worked on his belt and pants you pulled your panties off and stepped out of them. In an instant he turned you around, grabbing the under side of your thighs he lifted you up spreading you legs wide. Your arms wrapped securely around his neck.

Wasting no time, he buried himself to the hilt, his cock stretching you wide as he rubbed against your walls filling you to the brim. You screamed out in pleasure as you threw your head back against the bookcase making a loud thud. It would have hurt normally but it only added to your pleasure. Diluc's grip tightened on your thighs as he thrusts into you, setting an unrelenting pace. You pulled him closer smashing your lips against his in a hungry kiss.

His lips eagerly ate up all your moans as his tongue dove in deep into your mouth. His hips snapped into yours roughly and deeply. You clung to his shirt tightly, as your back slammed repeatedly into the bookcase. You didn't feel the pain now but you certainly would later. Diluc moaned feeling your pussy tighten around him, he pulled away from the messy kiss to gaze into your glossy eyes. His focus was entirely on you until he heard a book drop to the floor.

He stopped momentarily and observed the bookcase, there were many books that were slowly but surely coming loose from their place. Concerned for your wellbeing he decided to move you to the couch. He didn't want to see you get hurt from books falling on your head.

As soon as your back hit the couch Diluc had your legs up and over his shoulders as he plowed into you once again. Like this he instantly slammed into your g-spot.

"DILUC!" You cried as one hand gripped his shirt and the other in his hair. You tugged roughly on his ponytail, and he grunted in response.

"Fuck!" Diluc couldn't control the soft moans and groans that escaped his lips as he neared his peak. His moans of pleasure only stirred you up more, your walls clenched around him.

"Cum for me princess," Diluc let your legs fall from his shoulder as he leaned down resting his forehead against you.

You couldn't describe just how beautiful he looked right now, he was so content and his eyes held so much love an adoration for you. Cupping his cheeks you pressed your forehead against his. You squeezed your eyes shut as you came on him, a sweet sultry moan escaped as you did. Diluc held you close to his body as he felt your walls flutter and clench around him during your release.

Diluc let out a gentle moan as he came inside you, you shuddered feeling his seed fill and warm you. He gently rode out both your orgasms before slowly pulling out. Your eyes fluttered open and you gazed up at him. His lips were parted as he panted softly his eyes were screwed shut, it was so erotic. You bit your lip in order to hold back a moan, you pushed some of his hair that fell out of place from his face. Slowly his eyes opened, his ruby orbs meet yours in a loving gaze and you smiled at him. He smiled back as he leaned down to kiss you.

"You're bad for me." Diluc teased when he pulled away from you. Just looking at your dishealved state was enough to rile him up again.

The way your dress rode up to your stomach, showing off your messy womanhood that leaked with both his cum and yours. The way your hair had come free from the bun you had it in now pooled beneath you. The way your face was still flushed, your eyes still retaining a glimmer of lust for him.

Despite having just came he felt himself getting hard again, and it's all your fault.

"You're going to be the death of me," he let out a soft moan as he pulled your hips back to his.

It was easy for him to slip his cock back into you. Your back arched deeply, you were sensitive but it felt so good. Diluc grabbed the front of your dress pulling it down to free your breasts. Leaning down he took one of your nipples into his mouth, rolling it between his teeth.

"Oh God," your hands tugged and pulled at his hair as your head rolled from side to side, "not before you kill me."

If you were the death of him, he was certainly going to take you with him. And if this was how it was going to happen you certainly weren't going to complain.

[mycrofts-gunbrella]

Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Mycroft Holmes x Reader (Part Five)

Word Count- 3921

Morning had come around a lot quicker than you had hoped it would, the sunlight peeking through the curtains and birds singing outside making drifting back off an impossible task. Though you felt well rested, you simply just didn't want to move anywhere any time soon. Last night had begun with Mycroft shyly placing his hand on your hip as your back pressed close to his chest, but this morning had ended with Mycroft on his back and you with your head resting between his chest and shoulder, hand crossing over with fingers hooked over the pyjama's pocket. You'd never expected to be the type to wake up earlier than Mycroft Holmes, particularly not two days on the bounce, but you wouldn't complain. He looked so peaceful as he slept, the sunlight turning his auburn hair far more ginger, his freckles on his nose matching. You slowly reached one arm backwards, blindly feeling around for your phone on the bedside table and reading through your messages. You grinned seeing a text from Greg and had to fight the small laugh that threatened to escape you.

'Hey, just thought I'd check in on you both and see how you're getting on. I hate to feel pushy but we do really need to start that paperwork, today ideally. Figured I'd pop round later if it's alright- I need a sodding nap first though. Spent the majority of last night receiving phone calls about mysterious activity around St James', load of dodgy cars sending people away, loads of papers.. don't suppose you saw any of that down your way did you, makes life easier?"

Your fingers typed a response- 'Uhh..guilty as charged.. Myc was in jeans and a Who top, daren't be seen by the public..I'll get him to fix it when he's up x'- a grin playing on your face. Yeah okay you felt a little bad, but Greg had dealt with worse. After pressing send, you scrolled further through your notifications, spotting one from John. Nothing major, just checking in and inviting you both over for late lunch, mentioning briefly how it'll do Sherlock some good seeing his brother, even if he doesn't believe it himself- evidently also receiving a message from Greg as he also explained how it would make Lestrade have to do one less visit for paperwork if you popped over a little earlier. Before you could type an answer, you felt Mycroft shift beneath you, stretching out the arm that wasn't trapped beneath your body.

"Morning Sleeping Beauty." You teased, turning your head and placing a small kiss on the Holmes' chin. Mycroft blinked, rubbing his eyes and offering you a 'good morning' in response as he eyed up you typing on your phone.

"Needed to be whisked away to catch a criminal mastermind already?" He asked, sitting up a little as you moved to give him a little more space, his arm still loosely tucked behind your back, though his torso now free.

"Your deductions in the morning are lacking.. though close. Mastermind, but not criminal. John and Sherlock have invited us to late lunch, Greg's popping over to start the first part of paperwork handling, only the basic stuff this time round, so figured it would make it easier on him only having to go to one home before we left." Mycroft breathed deeply, fingers raising to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"I think I'd have rathered the criminal." He spoke, already mentally planning the afternoon, the conversations he would likely have, the way Sherlock would behave. What if he still hadn't forgiven him? It was surprising enough that you had let him off so easily, but Sherlock was different. Sherlock was a Holmes, and someone of whom already had feudal tendencies with Mycroft, it was bound to end terribly. As though you had read his mind, you moved your hand to take his from his face as you noticed his fingertips whitening as he pinched harder.

"Hey, it'll be fine. He doesn't blame you, he's been far too silent for that to be the case. From the way John sounded, it actually seemed more like he was worried about you, though you know he'd never admit that." Mycroft hummed in response, not being able to find the right words to say before reaching over and grabbing his own mobile. "World ending yet?"

"Not yet. Though with any luck, quarrels could happen before lunch." He mused, one side of his mouth raising slightly in a playful smirk.

"Mycroft you can't wish for conflicts amongst empires to get out of a meal with your brother."

"Can't I?" He raised a brow.

"Anthea wouldn't allow it anyway. We're on strict instruction to not go into work for the next couple of weeks, nations be damned. Lunch sounds far more appealing too." You slid yourself out of bed and grabbed one of the bags from Anthea that you brought upstairs last night, taking a handful of clothing items and tucking them under your arm.

"But it isn't lunch, is it? It's LATE Lunch, settled approximately around 3pm, too late for lunch, too early for dinner. It's impractical by any means; you starve yourself at real lunch so you do not ruin your appetite, and then by dinner time you're hungry once again. And if you eat at both of those times as well as the late lunch, your feeding schedules become on par with a bloody Hobbit." You rolled your eyes and headed to the bathroom. "Though you may be more accustomed to such choices given the height similarity between yourself and Mr Brandybuck."

"Cheeky sod, not all of us have glorious Holmesian legs. I'm sure you'll survive a few hours.. Oh, you also owe Greg an apology." You chuckled, opening the message back up and tossing your phone in the general direction of Mycroft's lap before going to get dressed. After reading the message, you heard Mycroft let out a laugh from the other room, the rare kind that you knew made the sides of his eyes crease and his head tip back slightly in amusement; you were sorry you missed it.

Leaving the bathroom, you couldn't help but notice the silk pyjama clad man standing mindlessly in front of his open wardrobe, glancing over each individual item of clothing. Wandering behind him, you moved up on your tiptoes and peered over his shoulder at the rows of suits. You were still dressed relatively comfortably in a pair of skinny jeans and a t-shirt, which you felt was appropriate for the later meal that would likely be somewhere like Angelo's- but you equally knew that Mycroft's idea of 'comfort' lay within his three pieces, pocket squares and oxfords.

"Don't panic, I'm not going to begrudge you of your precious suits today. You deserve it after actually going through with my wardrobe choice for you.. I didn't actually expect you to do it." You laughed, squeezing his shoulder fondly. "We slept in late again, there's barely any morning left." You commented, glancing over at the clock that read 10:53am. "Can I tempt you in Elevenses, Mr Baggins?" You grinned, your Lord of the Rings reference not being missed by Mycroft. He cast you a playful glare, fighting the urge to childishly poke his two fingers up at you. "What? Not judging my bedside manner this time?"

"It is useless to meet revenge with revenge; it solves nothing." He quoted Frodo without hesitation, bastard probably already planned that you'd quip back with something smart and already armed himself with Shire related comebacks. You, in contrast to Mycroft, did have the tendencies to become childish and did opt for the two fingered response, an adoring smile unnaturally paired.

Not many people got to know of Mycroft's little nerdy side, and you took pride in being one of the few that did, though you took more pride in him for being able to easily reel off the quotes. Though he had told you before that The Lord of the Rings trilogy had been his favourite of everything you made him watch, then when he read the books? You wouldn't hear from him for hours at a time while he binge read through them for the tenth time round, and of course you had noticed the varying editions of the three books on his bookshelf in his personal office, rather than lining the shelves in his small library room. If anything, it just made him more endearing.

Though it was nothing compared with his love of Doctor Who. Bless his heart, you had taken him to watch David Tennant's Richard II a few years ago for his birthday and he was insistent on waiting behind after the performance to catch David leaving and got him to sign his special edition box set of his DW seasons. He even had a photo taken with him, his expression being easily comparable to the likes of a child who just got a puppy for Christmas- and, much to his dismay, the photograph had had a prime place on your desk at NSY since the event.

You made your way downstairs, calling out something about making omelettes and leaving Mycroft alone to get ready. His fingers skimmed across the expensive fabrics, tugging out an olive green suit and red tie and pocket square to match. The smell of the food you were preparing began to fill his nose, making his stomach growl as he rushed to the bathroom to get dressed. After removing his pyjama top, Mycroft caught a glance of himself in the mirror, prodding at the pudge of his stomach that settled just over his pyjama bottoms, before sucking in flat and looking again. Maybe he should forego the omelette and just wait until later.. another growl.. okay maybe just a little, just so he didn't raise suspicion. He sighed, stomach relaxing back to its natural state before finishing his morning routine, tugging his trousers up a little higher than usual to tuck away the offending belly fat.

Mycroft had always suffered with his weight, he knew that. He also knew of his past, how he would skip meals, or spend hours upon hours on his treadmill, or the time he was under Doctor Chinnery for just shy of three years following his habits of completing his meals with his fingers down the back of his throat over the toilet just after his job promotions exceeded and he found himself in much higher rankings- public appearance being far more important than any personal preference. Though his eating disorder had improved, the years of therapy didn't miraculously improve his self-confidence. It was one of the many reasons he preferred inviting others for dinners, or at the very least having his days to himself when he knew he would be going out later in the evening. Spontaneous meals out like the one he would be attending in a few hours, or having somebody at home with him while he waited for said meals threw him off balance completely- his usual routine of fasting beforehand as to not appear rude or raise suspicions when he ate in public being disturbed significantly. You knew of his past, deduced it, actually, and had been nothing but supportive, trying your best to convince him for years that he was perfectly healthy and encouraging him to eat better, to actually consume meals. He was thankful, of course he was, but it didn't help his insecurities around you, no matter how welcoming you had been or however many compliments you gave him. His body was covered in stretch marks and areas of loose skin from his weight loss over the years, his chest hair, though scarce, was a coppery ginger and his body was covered in so many freckles he looked like an explosion at a dot to dot factory. It led him to remember the other reason why he had never previously attempted to pursue a relationship with you; if he was disgusted and horrified at the appearance of his nude body then what on earth would you think when that time eventually came around? He daren't even try to imagine your face. You'd worked with Sherlock long enough to have seen him wander around naked and Mycroft had to admit that his brother at least had a body worth parading about in the nude, then there was Gregory who, despite not having an exactly chiseled body, still had the rugged good looks and toned chest- a physique that clearly represented the physical aspects of his occupation- there was no doubt you'd compare him to them and he would come up short every time.

"Myc? You gonna be long? Yours is going to be freezing!" Your voice had knocked him out of his thoughts and he quickly shrugged on the rest of his clothes, straightening his tie in the mirror and plastering on a small smile as he headed downstairs and into the kitchen.

"Apologies.. the cufflinks failed in succession to cooperate at first." You had eyed him suspiciously, knowing that Mycroft had worn enough suits in his lifetime that he could probably find a way to put one on to completion in 5 minutes in the dark with oven mitts on.

"I know I've been so against the suits, but I have to admit that you look incredible.. I think that one's my new favourite." You commented casually, placing a quick kiss to his temple as he sat at the table. "That colour is lovely." He quirked a brow.

"New favourite? You've had old ones?"

"Obviously." Imitating Sherlock. "Charcoal pinstripe with that light blue shirt- brings your eyes out wonderfully... and your bum." You winked, positively enjoying the pink that dusted the man's cheeks, and the way he would open his mouth to speak and then close it before any words came out. In his defence, he was really not used to receiving such compliments. And in your defence, you weren't particularly used to giving them, not like that anyway. You'd blame Greg, he was a terrible influence and an incredible flirt- using his charm to at the very least try and make you laugh when you had shitty days.

You lay his plate in front of him, a coffee to its side, before beginning to tuck into your own meal. You had learned early on that if you didn't wait until Mycroft was able to eat then he likely wouldn't eat at all. While drinking his coffee fairly happily, you hadn't missed that the vast majority of Mycroft's breakfast was still on the plate, cut in smaller pieces and rearranged to appear as though he had eaten more than he truly had. Frowning, you didn't press- knowing better than to point out his behaviour and just being thankful he had eaten anything at all (about a third of the omelette and half a slice of toast if your judgements were correct) but had elected to keep an eye on him. You finished your own food in silence before crossing the cutlery over on your plate and beginning to speak.

"I figured if we left now we could have a bit of time for you to go through the first set of paperwork, Greg should be getting there in the next 10 minutes or so, and then by the time we finish and have a cup of tea it'll be time to go out." You suggested, taking Mycroft's plate to clear away after he had sent a nod to show he was finished. He made a small groan at the need to go at all, but soon acquiesced, sent a text for a car and stood to go to the front door. Tugging on a hoodie, you opened the door and took a step back, the wind shooting in your face and making you scowl. Mycroft made an amused sound and offered you the scarf of his that you had worn last night. Rather than taking the garment, you stood and waited for him to wrap it the same expert way that he had the night before. "I also text Greg to run by my flat and grab my coat so I'll be able to stop stealing your expensive scarves soon.. though this one feels so lovely I may text him again to leave it on the tube." You laughed, stepping back outside once again and walking with Mycroft to the end of the road where a car was waiting. Mycroft had wanted to respond, to make a comment about how he didn't mind letting you wear his things, how he actually quite liked it. But he stayed silent, offering a small smile instead and a soft hand at the small of your back. Mycroft opened the door for you, climbing in after and settling against the plush seats of the lavish car.

As the car began to move you tensed a little, a thought popping into your head.

"Myc.. does Sherlock know yet? About us? I might have hinted at it a little when I spoke to Lestrade earlier but I didn't press.. I just.. I didn't know if you were telling people." You asked awkwardly. Christ it made it sound like you were in some forbidden relationship. Mycroft's jaw clenched a little.

"I wasn't aware it was secret knowledge, if that's what you are asking Y/N. In response to your question, no. I haven't spoken to Sherlock at all since.." He trailed. "And I am not the sort of man to walk into a room and actively announce that kind of thing. But you should know that he will likely deduce it the moment we walk through the door being as you are wearing my clothing, your hair smells like my shampoo and your skin still has traces of the scent of my soap. So if you didn't want anybody to know, then I strongly suggest we rearrange our plans for this afternoon." Who was he kidding? Of course you didn't want people to know that you were actually together now- you would look ridiculous being such a pretty young woman with a man like Mycroft in tow. You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off. "If you are going to say you could argue the soaps then it would simply be futile, he knows I have your regular brand at your disposal; he'd know you used mine in the form of... sentiment." The last word felt wrong on his tongue now, knowing you had hoped to keep your.. relationship.. behind closed doors. Mycroft Holmes was a very private man, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't want knowledge of your relationship to be at least semi-public, having felt a little giddy when you'd chosen to cross that line with him.

"What? No, I wasn't going to talk about the sodding shampoo." You grinned, reaching a hand over to place on his knee. "Jesus Myc, I asked because I didn't know if YOU were comfortable with people knowing. I'm pretty sure everyone inside that flat knew I fancied you the last few years, I'd proudly walk in and show that my pining eventually paid off. I just know you have appearances to keep up and I didn't want to ruin that, or embarrass you in front of Sherlock." For what seemed like the millionth time in the last few days, your words surprised Mycroft. He felt his jaw loosen and he took a breath, moving only to briefly place his hand over yours for a small squeeze and moving back again. You didn't expect him to say much, he was Mycroft Holmes, not Romeo Montague, but the small smile you sent back his way let him know that you understood his thoughts. The drive to Baker Street was only 10 or so minutes from Mycroft's home so you soon arrived in no time at all, the slick black car smoothly pulling up outside number 221.

"I can only hope my dear brother deduces our relationship correctly and doesn't make a vast attempt to embarrass me in front of his peers.. again." Mycroft knocked on the door, his words casting you back to a Christmas you had all shared a couple years ago.

It was a small gathering, consisting of the pair of you, the Baker Street boys, Greg and Mrs Hudson, and a few weeks beforehand, after multiple arguments of whether or not presents should be shared, Mrs Hudson had come up with the wonderful (terrible) idea of secret Santa which, incase you wasn't aware, isn't a fun game when played with two Holmes' that knew everybody's present and Secret Santa before the packages were opened. You had pulled Mrs Hudson and couldn't have been more thrilled, neither could she when she opened her new tea set- a simple floral design decorated its sides, but she was thankful no matter the pattern, the last teapot having been found at the hands of Sherlock housing human eyes. Conveniently enough, Mycroft had pulled your name and elected to subtly buy you a personalised travel mug for work. After you had opened it, Sherlock had scoffed, muttering something along the lines of "Mycroft isn't that shit at buying presents. He bought you a necklace at first but felt too embarrassed to give it to you in such a public setting and panic bought that cup." Continuing on about how Mycroft had put a lot of thought into your original gift and how it was unusual and how it "obviously" meant he favoured you and was attracted to you. Mycroft had left shortly after that, not making eye contact with any of the silent people in the room and climbed into the back of his car, but you had followed suit and clambered in after him- easing the tension by ignoring Sherlock's allegations and giving him the envelope that you had in your pocket. You had told him you had bought him something special anyway, even though he wasn't who you were supposed to buy for, because you cared for and appreciated him- he had opened the envelope slowly and his eyes widened, that rare smile appearing on his face when he was presented with the Richard II tickets. After your exchange Mycroft had given you the necklace anyway, spouting derogatives about his brother's deductions as he did so. It was a small silver chain necklace with a sparkling silver pendant that, upon closer inspection, you had noticed was a police badge.

You smiled fondly at the memory and instinctively placed your hand above your sternum, feeling the small piece of metal beneath your clothing that you hadn't taken off in two years. You turned to face the man beside you a little more, placing a hand on his shoulder and reaching up on your tiptoes to place a lingering kiss on his lips, moving back only when you heard the latch unlock in front of you, and noticing the ever so slight pink tinge to Mycroft's bottom lip from the lip balm you had put on earlier. "That should make it easier to get it right." You commented, fighting the small grin from your face as you noticed Mycroft standing in the same way, lips parted slightly from where your own had been moments ago, a matching pink dusting his cheekbones. The door opened revealing a smug looking Sherlock.

"Be careful Mycroft, you'll catch flies like that if you aren't cautious enough."

[imagine-nation20]

Just Like This

Summary: Capture the flag isn’t always your least favorite camp activity, but sometimes it is.

Requested by: Anon

Request:Hey if your still doing Percy Jackson fics/headcannons can I request Connor stoll x shy daughter of Hecate reader pls

A/N: I started writing this as headcanons, and then I got really carried away and decided to write this, oops. I’m just glad someone requested Connor. Even if I forgot about this request and stumbled upon it very late. Also, not so sure this turned out as a shy reader, since I am bad at writing shy characters.

~~~

Hecate’s cabin was the exact opposite of what you had expected when you first arrived at the camp. Instead of the dark, dreary color palette you had imagined based on the other camper’s cabins, it was surprisingly bright. White walls, with a mix of pale and dark purples. There were various decorations around, only one bed, and different magic bits and bobbles. One wall was taken up entirely by a bookshelf. Most of the books looked far from normal though, and you had only been brave enough to open the most plain looking ones as of yet.

It felt safe. It felt like home.

Still, you couldn't remain inside all day. Someone would notice, come looking for you, maybe make you do their chores. A knock at the door confirmed this thought, and you stood from your bed, moving over to the door.

It swung open to reveal the youngest Stoll brother, Connor, who looked to be in his usual state of disarray. Dark hair looking unbrushed, his camp shirt wrinkled, jeans rolled up to his calves, and his sneakers properly drenched and getting water all over the front steps of the cabin.

You raised a brow, “Do I want to know?”

Connor looked down to his shoes, “Probably not,” he admitted, looking up at you with a toothy grin.

You leaned against the doorway of the cabin, smiling down at Connor who was much shorter than you from his placement down the steps. “And I guess knocking on my door was more important than changing out of your drenched sneakers for some reason?”

“Annabeth ordered me to remind you not to miss capture the flag again,” He shrugged.

You narrowed your eyes, “Ordered? Aren’t you supposed to be some hotshot counselor? When did you start taking orders?”

Connor leaned on one of the pillars, exaggerating a ‘smooth’ aura. “Since those orders allowed me to visit my favorite demigod.”

“Me?” You asked, faking sweetness.

A meow came from behind you, and Connor’s facade shifted into a smile, “No, Mordred.”

Your cat ran out to him from between your legs, jumping right into his arms. You glared at the cat, crossing your arms. “Traitor.”

“We should be going, if we don’t want Annabeth to cut us into little pieces for being late.”

“Do you think we could take her?”

“Ha, no.”

Capture the flag wasn’t entirely horrid. Especially since Hecate and Hermes cabins were both sided with Athena that time. That means that all Connor and you had to do was lounge around where the flag was, and make sure no stray Ares kids got a little too big for their britches. So far, they had no trouble.

“Oh, oh, I spy with my little eye, something green.”

“Connor, I swear to god, if its a leaf again-”

“This is so boring,” Connor groaned, cutting you off. “Maybe one of these days, the Athena kids should get the boring job. Let Anabeth sit as a rock for an hour with nothing to do.”

The small clearing was quiet. You and Connor shared a look. There was nothing innocent in the mischievous glint of his eyes. You began to shake your head, silently telling your friend a blanket no for whatever he was thinking.

“Connor, do-” An arrow whizzed through the trees, catching you in the shoulder. You shouted out in both surprise and the sudden pain that came from the tip embedding itself into your skin. It had cut through the leather armor like butter.

“(Y/N)!” Connor shouted.

The sound of a heavy scuffle met your ears, your eyes staring up at the canopy of trees above. Footsteps, echoing beneath you through the packed dirt. Your eyes drifted over to your shoulder, seeing the arrow shaft sticking up from your shoulder. With a bit to your lip, and a deep breath, you reached over to feel the back side.

The tip of the arrow was poking out from the leather armor. Knowing that pulling it back would just cause more damage, you reached to the shaft, snapping the wooden stick off. This would give more access to movement, and you wouldn’t have to worry about knocking into it and causing more pain.

Slowly, you stood. The sword on your belt was easily drawn with a ‘shink’, drawing the attention of the Ares boy making his way towards the flag. Connor was busy with another, their sword clashing. The Ares kid smirked at you, charging with a hearty yell.

You ducked the blow, kicking out at his shin. The boy toppled forward, groaning. You hit the back of his head with the pommel of the sword, halting his movements. He would have a terrible headache when he woke up, but at least you hadn’t the stomach to repay him for the arrow wound.

“Hey, you good?” Connor’s hand was on your good shoulder, he eyes peering closely into your own. You must have been staring at the knocked out camper for too long.

“Yeah,” you lied, feeling the pain ripple through your shoulder. “I think I should go see Chiron.”

Connor nodded, reaching down to his belt for the emergency horn there. After a few events of campers in danger with no way to call, Chiron had proposed special war horns for the counselors to call for help.

“I think something is wrong,” You mumbled, looking down at the wound. It was festering a dark purple. “That’s not good.”

The horn blew, and you blacked out.

~~~

When you came too again, you were in the Apollo tent. A few other campers were held up in cots, but it was mostly empty. Outside, cricket could be heard. You must’ve been asleep for a good few hours. Your stomach rumbled at the thought of missing dinner.

Every little movement hurt, even tilting your head to look around the tent. Something cloth rustled on your head, and you went to lift your right hand. However, you found yourself unable, as your hand was pinned to the bed by a much larger, warmer hand.

Connor’s head rested on the cot beside you, his dark, curly hair spilling across the linen sheets. Soft breathes escaped his mouth, which hung open. Soft cheeks dampened by puffiness and dark purple circles beneath the lids of his eyes.

“He’s been there the whole time,” A quiet voice whispered. “Will couldn’t get him to leave.”

You looked over, spotting an injured and annoyed looking Nyssa. She looked like she had been hit by a train, and knowing the Hephaestus cabin, she probably had.

“Did he miss dinner?” You whispered back.

Nyssa gave you a weird look, “Yeah, three of them. Will had to shove a plate into his hands and force feed him.”

Your eyes widened, “Wait, three?”

“Yeah, you’ve been out for two whole days,” Nyssa looked out the flap longingly, “At least you didn’t have to be awake for it though. Harley set off an explosion in the workshop, threw me into a wall. Everyone was still scrambling around you when I got here.”

A shift beside you, and you looked down. Connors dark lashes were fluttering, his eyes slowly peeling open. The bright blue looked dulled, like it had lost its shine. They trailed up your arm, seeing you sat up slightly, eyes peering back.

He let out a shaky breath, “(Y/N),” sitting bolt straight, he gripped your hand. “Are you okay?”

“What happened, Con?”

He looked almost annoyed, though not at you, “That stupid Ares kid accidentally loaded his quiver with poisoned arrows. Don’t worry though, I accidentally laced his food with laxatives, and his bed with roaches.”

You couldn’t help the smile that stretched out over your face, “And here I would have thought you wouldn’t have had time, being here twenty-four-seven and all,” you gave him a look.

“Yeah yeah,” he rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “Listen-”

“Oh for gods’ sake, just kiss and get it over with. If I have to sit through one more awkward conversation where you two dance around each other I’ll poison you both,” Nyssa growled out, looking only mildly annoyed in reality.

You shared a look with Connor, both of you holding back smiles, “Should I tell her?”

“What? That we’ve been dating for the last two years?”

You both turned to look at her simultaneously. Nyssa looked almost horrified at the realization. Her mouth hung open, the hello kitty Band-Aid on her cheek scrunched as her face did.

“Oh Zeus’ beard, you two are just like this? May the god’s have mercy…” She muttered under her breath, laying down in bed. She moved her pillow over her head to block you out.

You and Connor shared a laugh, and with both of you stuck inside the tent after curfew, you saw no problem in letting him climb into the cot with you. It was a more comfortable and peaceful sleep for you both.

[dreamescapeswriting]

One Summer In Paris ~ Finale ~ JJK [M]

WORD COUNT: 4.7K

GENRE: Fluffy, romance, ex-lovers to lovers, 

PAIRING: Jungkook x Fem!Reader

DESCRIPTION: Jeon Jungkook had always loved Paris with its amazing views, incredible museums and the small Bookshop right across from the Effiel Tower. It was were he spent a lot of his summer breaks as a kid so he loved it well into his adulthood. There was one bookshop he rented a room in the summer that changed his life. It was a place where he felt happy and at peace whenever he had the chance to stay there. Where he fell in love for the first time and had his first heartbreak, a lot of firsts for him were in Paris. But what happens when he goes back to the same book shop four years later and finds the love of his life in the arms of another with a daughter who looks suspiciously like him…

THEMES: SMUT CHAPTER Single Parent, Jungkook x Fem!Reader, self insert, Smut will be included in a later chapter

MASTERLIST || PREVIOUS || EPILOGUE

After a week of the boys being in Paris the news that Jungkook was a father was being spread throughout the internet and world through the corrected sources this time though. He had to do a formal interview with a magazine company who worked for BigHit and were under their payroll so that the right things were being spoken about. No-one was allowed to just come up to you or Areum in the street or there would be some serious consequences. The relationship between you and Jungkook was never announced since neither of you knew what was happening just yet. As far as the media was concerned you were close friends just raising your daughter to the best of your abilities.

After some investigating everything came to light on how Jungkook was found, it was a mixture of some teenage girl tweeting out a video asking if anyone else thought it looked like Jungkook as well as an “unknown” source. The unknown source came to light as David who’s ego had been bruised too badly that he decided to take it out on both you and Jungkook. Calling everyone he thought of, telling magazines online that he knew where Jungkook was. After one person saw it with the first photograph the teen had tweeted out the news spread like wildfire. David got what was coming to him though, Bighit were suing him for slander against Jungkook.

 All of the magazines painted him as the good guy who had no idea that his daughter existed and you were painted to be the girl who didn't know who Jungkook was at the time of the relationship, it was easier and less messy that way. The world didn't need to know all of the details about your lives together, they didn't need to know every aspect of what you and Jungkook went through. 

"What are you thinking about?" Jungkook questioned when he saw you looking at Areum with Taehyung and Namjoon - they were playing dress-up after just getting back from Disney land that day. The boys had insisted on taking her - along with guards so no one would bother them. 

"How different her life is going to be now." You admitted as Jungkooked wrapped his arms around your body and laid his chin on your shoulder. Things with Jungkook had been a little on and off for the last week neither of you had enough time or space to talk about what was happening. You acted like a real couple but you weren't enterally sure what you were since he was famous...The father of your daughter but it didn't mean you were or weren't dating. 

"Jungkook what-" 

"Let me take you out tonight," You spoke at the same time but you stopped your sentence first and stared into his eyes wondering what to say to him, you were going to ask him what you were together but now he was asking you out on a date.

"What-What?" You stuttered out turning your whole body to look at him this time ignoring everyone else that was in the room with you. 

"Let me take you out, just you and me...Please?" Jungkook had been trying to think of a way to talk to you about life and how things were going to be from now on all week and this was the only way he could think of doing it properly. He'd put so much thought into everything and he was finally ready to have a serious conversation about it all. 

"I didn't think you were allowed to go out publically." You whispered as you thought back to his manager telling him off for trying to sneak out a couple of nights ago. He shrugged his shoulders looking over at his manager who was reading through what everyone was thinking of Jungkook and his family on his tablet. That was what you were, you were a family even if you weren't together anymore...or yet. Some fans had reacted better than others, others claimed that you were faking, Areum wasn't truly his but if anyone took the time to look at Areum or spend time with her they would be able to tell she was in fact related to Jungkook. 

"I'm not but, who said it has to be public...Trust me okay? I'll make this all perfect." You sighed thinking about it for a second, it would be nice to get out of the hotel you seemed to have been stuck in all week. Management had moved you in once the scandal dropped, the shop had been closed since - you wondered what Grace had been thinking about all of this but at the same time after what she told you about what she said to Jungkook, a part of you didn't care.

"I trust you," He smiled leaning forward to kiss your cheek before he made his way over to their manager, you watched him for a couple of seconds before deciding to go and rescue Namjoon and Taehyung from the makeup your daughter had gotten that day. 

"My little princess seems to have turned the princes into princesses." You giggled as you swooped Areum up into your arms and blew a raspberry onto her shoulder playfully, she screamed wildly shouting that you were a dragon trying to steal the princess away. 

"We'll save you!" Taehyung announced loudly pulling out a fake foam sword as he started to hit you on the leg with it but you laughed evilly and ran away with Areum.

Jungkook kept his hands over your eyes as he leads you through the bookshop, you knew where he was taking you since you both had to run away from the hotel while the boys distracted the manager.

"Fuck," You groaned as your arm came into contact with the fifth bookshelf in a row, Jungkook hissed as he flinched. He didn't mean to bang you into every shelf in the shop, in his head this had gone over a lot smoother.

"Sorry." He mumbled as he carefully sat you down on the blanket he had laid out for you already. He'd snuck off to the bookshop earlier that afternoon to make sure everything was ready and now he could finally bring you back here. He was trying to recreate one of your dates together and have it be a nice little surprise. 

"You can open them in a second, hang on." He made sure your eyes were closed before rushing off to turn the main lights off in the store. 

"Open," Your eyes slowly fluttered open and you looked around at the shop floor letting your eyes adjust to the dim lighting. You were snuggled in between two bookshelves, a picnic blanket was on the floor surrounded by small battery-operated candles you knew what he was doing the second you saw it all. 

"Jungkook-" You looked up at him and that was when you spotted the fairy lights lining the top of the shelves to look like a starry night sky. You gasped as your eyes began to well up with tears, he was recreating a night you spent out by the river under the stars. You'd fallen asleep in his arms and he had to carry you home, it was also the night you gave him a tattoo. A small one on his arm just above the inside of his elbow, your initials.

"I got all your favourite foods as well if they're still your favourite. I mean I don't know if you changed it I heard that pregnancy can sometimes effect-" He was cut off when you kissed his lips softly to stop him from nervously rambling on about the food inside of the picnic basket. 

When you pulled away from his lips you looked into his eyes and whispered to him

"This is perfect," He began turning a bright red which made you giggle at the thought that a simple and small kiss could do that to him. It was good to know that you still had that kind of effect on him. 

"Thanks for this," You whispered again as he handed you a small plate and began to load it up with different foods you'd told him you loved before. 

Hours later you were just laying together talking over things when he asked you a question, 

"Do you remember our last date...Before I left?" You were both laying on the floor staring up at the fairy lights, your head was resting on his arm as he questioned you on random things about his time there. The date had been going amazingly so far, there were no phone calls from the boys, no one had tried to interrupt you and it just felt as though nothing had changed over the last four years. As if he hadn't been away and there was a huge fight with one another. It was exactly the way it was supposed to be. How things should have stayed if you had told him. 

"Was that the one where we came back and slept in front of the fireplace?" You questioned him as you popped a piece of popcorn into his mouth, he hummed while nodding his head at you. 

"Yeah I remember it," You started giggling as you remembered Jungkook that night. He'd been so nervous about something that he'd knocked wine all over the floor and all down your dress. 

"You covered me in red wine," You started laughing again and he nervously laughed about it scratching the back of his neck as he remembered it, 

"I was going to tell you that night that I loved you...Then I was going to come clean about who I was...I was always going to tell you, Y/n." Your heart stopped as you heard him admitting this to you. All these years you thought that he never told you because he didn't trust you or something, 

"You were?" He nodded his head as he started to play with your hair, he couldn't bring himself to look at you as he admitted all of this. 

"I was so nervous about it that I spilt drinks, my palms were sweating and I couldn't breathe. I told you when you were asleep though," He chuckled pathetically making his chest rise and fall, you turned to lay on your side facing him and put your head on his chest just laying there as you giggled softly. 

"Doesn't really count if I'm asleep," He smiled weakly as he began rubbing your lower back with his hand just enjoying his time with you while he could. 

The two of you sat there in silence for a few more seconds before you looked down at the floor beside him and bit your lip, 

"I didn't know I was pregnant when I saw you last...I said it to hurt you...I-I didn't know." He looked at you as you began to frown at the floor, 

"I knew you weren't like that so I figured as much." You sniffled a little and sat up as you looked at him seriousness coming into the atmosphere now. 

"I-I wanted to tell you but I didn't know how to get into contact with you." He watched as you seemed to look in pain as you told him this, it had been something that had been weighing on your chest for a while since you told him that and you hated yourself for doing it to him. 

"We didn't really end on good terms...I should have tried to contact you as well...I really do love you Y/n-" He stopped as he realised he said "love" instead of the past tense. It was true. He'd been in love with you since the moment he laid eyes on you, he'd never believed in love at first sight until then. He'd always had it set in his mind that when he met the love of his life he would hear alarm bells but instead of alarm bells when he met you it was the church bells and a whole choir singing loudly so he could hear and know it was you.

"I-I love you too." Your eyes were wide at first but you knew it was true, there was no one else that you could ever love more than Jungkook - other than Areum but that was a different kind of love. There was no one else in the world that was more perfect for you. 

It happened suddenly, you were laid below Jungkook as he kissed you passionately, his hands keeping him pressed above you while your hands worked their way into his hair. 

"I love you," He whispered against your lips as he kissed you again, you giggled pulling him down closer to your lips. 

"I love you too," He smirked hearing the words leave your mouth he never wanted you to stop saying them to him, 

"Say it again," He whined out desperately as you pulled back from the kiss to look him in the eyes.

"I love you Jeon Jungkook," He smiled brightly bringing you into another kiss, the sparks from before all still there. The same church bells and choir singing loudly for him to know that this was real, this is where his heart belonged.

An intense makeout session lead to you sitting on the floor of the book shop now holding a stick and poke tattoo kit Jungkook had brought along with him again, just like the first time you gave him a tattoo. 

"This is insane, you can go and get a real one Guk." You looked at him nervously and he shook his head waiting for you to just tattoo him. This meant more to him than going to have a real one done, 

"I want you to be the one to do this," He admitted as he handed you everything you needed. He'd show you what he wanted done on his arm, 

"Where?" You questioned looking at Areum's name written in a fancy font on a piece of paper. He stripped out of his shirt to reveal his tattooed arms and you couldn't help but look at them all. Wanting to know every story to each and every one of them but then your eyes found his first one. The small one that you'd done before, 

"I want it here," He whispered pointing to the blank space below your initials on his arm, as soon as you saw the initials you felt a warm feeling spread all over your body.

"Y-You didn't cover it?" He shook his head as your eyes welled up with tears, the thought of him keeping a part of you with him all the time made you want to cry. 

"I-I kept your shirt..." You admitted as your tears began to leave your eyes, your vision returning to normal as you took hold of the kit and got ready to tattoo him. He had a huge smile on his face as he thought about you snuggled into his shirt whenever you missed him or something. 

"You're sure?" You questioned as you held his arm in your hand referring to the tattoo once again, 

"Positive," With that you began inking his arm with the tools while holding him steady, apologising every three seconds in case it was hurting him too much.

"It's perfect," He whispered as you applied some tattoo goo he'd brought along with him before placing the tattoo under some cling film to keep it protected for the first night. 

"Just like her," You whispered as you stared at your handy work, it looked really good to say you'd only ever done small ones before. 

"She is," Jungkook chuckled while holding your hand in his. The air was silent but it wasn't the awkward kind, it was just a nice silenced between you both before he began leaning into you again. 

"Say it again." He begged as he looked into your eyes. You knew what he was talking about without him saying it, it was all he ever wanted to hear from now on. 

"No, I've said it all night." You groaned jokingly as you tried to push him away from you but he dragged you to sit on his lap and whispered it in your ear as he kisses your neck softly. 

"Say it," He begged while kissing down your jaw, each kiss making you needier each second. 

"Say it." He growled pulling you down on his lap harder making you whimper, this time it was an order and you pushed your hands into his hair whimpering as he kissed your neck.

"I, Y/n Y/l/n love you, Jeon Jungkook." He smirked before kissing up to your lips and kissing you roughly, you bit down on his lip playfully earning a groan from him and you giggled. 

"Fuck, I love you too, I love you so much Y/n," He whimpered as he laid your down below him on the floor, you wrapped your legs around his waist not wanting him to go away just yet but he didn't. He ran his tongue along your bottom lip and you granted him access, allowing his tongue to explore your mouth while you sucked on it a little bit. He ground his hips down into you while smirked, you moaned as you felt how hard he was behind the jeans he was wearing. 

"Needy?" You teased running your hand down the front of his chest before palming him through the rough fabric of his pants, 

"Very." He grunted as you began to undo his belt buckle, pushing him to lay down on the floor as you worked your way out of his jeans. 

"W-What are you doing-" He groaned loudly as you took him from his boxer and began massaging him in your hand, he was so much bigger than you remembered and his tip was bright red. 

"So needy baby," You cooed at him before looking up into his eyes, he watched you, infatuated with what you were going to do. 

"P-Please-" Your tongue began licking small but fast strokes on his head, paying more attention to his slit which was already dripping with precum. You placed the tip into your mouth sucking him clean while he threw his head back against the floor and moaned out your name. 

"Fuck please...I-I need more," You looked up at him while pumping him in your hand, he looked so breathtaking laid out for you like this. Needy and begging for you, you licked the underside of his cock from base to tip making sure to coat him in enough salvia so you could glide him in and out of your mouth with his but he moaned out as soon as you touched him. 

"Shit baby-" As soon as your mouth was around his cock it was as if a switch had gone off in his mind, he was no longer the whining and begging boy he'd just been for you but now he was grunted and finding it hard to control himself. 

You could see he was debating taking your head in his hands so you reached for his hands while you bobbed your head slowly, you placed his hands into your hair and nodded slight giving him the all-clear to take over. 

"Fuck I love you so fucking much." He forced your head down until your nose was pressed against his groin, you held back the gag and tears wanting him to feel as much pleasure as possible and he moaned out. Moving your head softly with his hands as he began to buck up into your mouth, 

"So fucking warm, I bet you're dripping aren't you." He smirked watching the way you avoided his gaze, he continued thrusting into your mouth as you whined out around him sending vibrations through his body. 

"Fuck, pull off baby, pull off," You pulled away and a sad expression appeared on your face, you wiped your lips instantly thinking you'd done something wrong when he attacked you with hungry kisses. Ripping your shirt open before removing your skirt in what seemed like one movement. You were left in your black panties and matching bra, 

"Expecting something tonight?" He chuckled while playing with the band of your panties, you shook your head so he ripped the panties off throwing the thin fabric somewhere in the shop. 

"Jungkook! That was my only good pair." He pushed you down onto the floor, pulling your ass into the air while keeping your chest flat on the floor. 

"I'll buy you some new ones," He whispered as he bent down to admire your core, smirking as he watched just how wet you were. 

"You always were so needy for me," He smirked running one finger over your folds making your hips buck for more but he held you in place, 

"If you're a good girl, good things will come." He placed a kiss on your core making you whine out and close your eyes tightly. 

"Please," You practically begged him and so he pushed his tongue into you making your eyes widen at the feeling, it had been so long since you'd had anything nearly as passionate as this. He hummed into your cunt before swirling his tongue inside of you, using his thumb to attack your clit. 

"So fucking wet, you taste so good baby girl," The name made you clench around his two fingers that were buried knuckle deep inside of you. 

"You like that? You like it when I call you baby girl?" He questioned pushing his fingers in and out of you roughly while you whimpered below him not being able to form words from the feeling of him.

"I'm taking that as a yes," He chuckled wickedly before pushing his tongue back into your cunt, moaning into your whenever you'd clench around his tongue. 

"Ugh shit, Jungkook!" You screamed out gripping onto the blanket below you as you came unexpectedly and out of nowhere onto his tongue. Your body slipped leaving you to lay down on the blanket, your ass still in the air just a little, 

"Good girl," He whispered turning you around to face him, you licked your lips as you roughly brought him down into another kiss trying to position him between your legs. You wanted to feel him inside of you, you wanted to feel him filling your walls up the way he used to.

"U-Agh fucking Jesus," Jungkook moaned as he slowly pushed into you, he kept himself steady holding himself in place at your hilt as you tried to adjust to him again. You could feel every inch of him inside of you which already made your head spin at the thought of it. The number of times you'd brought yourself to the edge just thinking about him touching you instead of yourself was never enough. You could never make yourself feel the way he was making you feel right now.

"M-Move," You whispered to him before kissing him roughly again, he followed your orders and began to push in and out of you slowly at first making you moan into his mouth. 

"So tight," He grunted taking your right leg and putting it over his shoulder, the sudden movement making you cry out in pleasure as he hit you deeper than before. 

"T-There, T-There! Right there." You repeated as he continued to hit you at that same spot over and over again making you cry out, you ran your nails down his bare back and he smirked as you clenched with each thrust. 

"That's it, baby, let me feel you do that again." He roughly slammed into you holding himself in place and you screamed out his name rolling your head back and arching your back off the floor. 

"JUNGKOOK!" Nothing could compare to this, he continued to roughly hit into that spot that made your eyes roll back and the fairy lights look like real stars. 

"F-Faster...M-More, need more." You whimpered wanting him to hit that exact spot more and more with each thrust and he moaned back at you as he began to change his pace. Swiftly pushing in and out of you roughly watching the way your head rolled back and you moaned out his name. 

"S-Shit baby, I- I can't keep this up." He admitted as he began rubbing your clit with his thumb and your whole body began to shake, your thighs aching as you could feel the pressing orgasm begin to rise up in your body.

"C-Cum...I-I wanna cum...F-Feel you cum," Your sentence was a mess as were you but you were begging for him to cum and to let you cum. 

"Together?" He whispered while kissing you softly not matching his thrusts which were still rough and quick, you managed to nod while moaning out his name and he smirked feeling you getting closer with him. 

"S-Shit," You cried out as his thumb began to rub your clit in rougher circles, tugging on it a little making you whimper and gasp as your orgasm began to build. The tightness in your stomach grew tighter until you snapped around him, your legs wrapping around his waist to hold him deep inside of you as you came around his length. 

"Jungkook, shit." You whimpered out as he kissed you roughly, cumming into you as you held him deep, your walls clenching around him even after you came down from your high. 

The fireplace was crackling as you laid in front of it, naked and sprawled out beside Jungkook who was sweating from the activities you'd just done again for the sixth time that night. There was one thing playing on your minds though, one lingering thought that neither of you wanted to talk about but had to talk about sooner or later. That was about him going home. Going to Korea.

"We have to talk about something," He whispered as you laid your head down on his sweaty chest nodding along to him, you knew what was coming. 

"I have to go soon...But I don't want this to end...I don't want to be away from you and Areum." The thought had crossed your mind about how this would all work out, being in different countries while you shared a daughter and were hopelessly in love with one another.

"I don't want to be away from you either." You admitted as you looked up into his eyes, resting your chin on his chest as you stared into his eyes. 

"W-Well what- What if you-" You knew what he was trying to say and ask of you and again the thought had crossed your mind, all of the positives about it but then all of the negatives came along with it. 

"Move to Korea?" You questioned to make sure you were on the same page as him. He nodded his head slowly while linking your hands with his and starting at you sadly, 

"I-I wouldn't know how to do that...W-What if things go bad between us what-"

"Ignore the what-ifs, this...This is perfect. What we have it right..." You knew he was right on that part, there was nothing that could happen between you and Jungkook that could break you apart anymore. You were hopelessly in love with him and nothing was ever going to change that.

"I wouldn't know how to move to another country...I-I don't even speak much Korean, how would Areum go to school." You sat up as you panicked thinking about everything but Jungkook took your arms in his hands and shook his head. 

"We can fix that, I can make things work...She can be homeschooled, We can look into visa's and stuff." He whispered trying to reassure you that everything would be okay, the longer he held you the more you knew it was the right thing to do and the more you thought that nothing could go wrong with this, with him by your side. 

"I suppose there are lots of huge book stores in Korea I could get a job in..." He smiled brightly as he heard you calming down and began to talk about what you could do there. You'd always expressed your love for travelling and you'd never been before.

"I-I'll have to talk to Areum about it and Grace...I'll need to find someone that will take the shop..." You began planning out what was going to happen in your head but Jungkook just brought you into a soft and loving kiss as he pulled you close to him again. 

"Everything will work out, I promise." He whispered as he leant down to kiss you once again, running his hands up your sides as he got excited over the thought of getting to live out the rest of his life with you.

A/n: This fic was super short and sweet but I hope you guys enjoyed it!  Thank you to those who took the time to read it! I hope you can enjoy any future works I aim to put out 🥰💞 It will probably be a while until my next series as I’m working on a Stray Kids Minho one!

MASTERLIST || PREVIOUS || EPILOGUE

Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @fan-ati--c @taestannie @kneel-begyourpardon @rjsmochii @bisexualmess007​ @innersooya​ @sw33tnight​ @sweeneyblue1​ @jin-from-the-block​ @neverthefirstchoice​ @jikooksgirl19​ @jungkooksseuphoria​ @queenmasterxx​ @oosnapitskat​ @janieooo​ @preciouschimine​    @koremis​ @keijilovebot​ @silscintilla​ @mayafravoli

[silentprincess100]

I wrote a Takaritsu fan-fic or something

I know this isn’t really the place to post it. IDK lol.

FINALLY after loitering about the fandom for long-enough.

Summary:

Ritsu wakes up the morning after he confesses to Takano and reflects on the nature of their relationship and what drew him to Takano both then and now.

Inspired by the line: “There is something that can’t be said to completely belong to then but also can’t be said to completely belong to now that is blossoming inside my chest” from Onodera ritsu no baai chapter 27. I might have translated it wrong, but I like the idea of it.

Onodera Ritsu was staring at the inside of his eyelids.

He could see the orange glow of the morning sunlight waiting on the other side. But he didn’t want to wake up yet.

Especially after what he had done last night.

He had done it. He had really done it. He had confessed to Takano-San.

He groaned aloud and flopped over on e bed, pulling his pillow over the back of this head.

He had known for a lot time that this was what he had to do, that this was what he was going to do. Of course it was Takano-San. Deep down, he had known it had always been Takano-San, had known it was always going to be Takano-San.

But the confession had had to come on his own terms. He wasn’t some naïve, giddy teenager anymore, but an adult with his own circumstances, riddled with the scars and defenses ones inevitably gets from being alive for 27 years (ok, twenty-six and some). He was old enough, mature enough to realize that not hating someone is not the same thing as loving them (ahem, Takano San), and that lust was also not the same thing as love (also looking at you, Takano-San). Love was something more complex altogether; it was messy and complicated and it took time and trust, and it couldn’t be just forced by simply saying I love you. After all, the two of them had had a really nasty breakup which ended up hurting both of them deeply. No one in their right mind could expect them bounce back from something like that as if nothing had happened.

For better or for worse then, their breakup and the aftermath had become a part of what shaped him. And if Takano-San couldn’t accept him for who he was now, then this was never going to work.

He hadn’t fallen in love with Takano-San simply because he had loved him then. What kind of a moron jumps to falls in love again with someone who broke their heart, someone they had spent 10 years trying to forget? He wasn’t born yesterday. What he liked about Takano-San, what he admired about Takano-San, was his ability to so valiantly hide his vulnerability behind his rough exterior, his utter calmness and self-possessed assurance in the face of chaos (whether it be the end of the cycle or hard-ball negotiating at the board room table with Yokozawa and the others), and his easy confidence in his own abilities.

But, of course, his competence warranted such confidence - and watching him do every day what he was good at was ... sexy, although Ritsu was loathe to admit that to the mega-ace super-talented ultra-editor - anymore than he already had, of course. In other words, Takano-San could do exactly what Ritsu so longed to do - be effortlessly put-together, smooth, cool, and confident. And unlike Ritsu who felt crippled by his anxieties about his family, about (possibly) inheriting Onodera Shuppan, about keeping up with work every day, Takano was able to just be in and enjoy the moment. Whereas Takano was the duck, smoothly gliding across the water, Ritsu was the feet, desperately flailing awkwardly around, so obvious and frank in its struggle to stay above the water. How appropriate also that Ritsu would be the feet of this relationship. He let out another long-suffering groan.

He had to admit, part of what he liked about Takano-San was how much Takano-San liked him, despite how much of a mess he was. Heck, he believes and likes me so much more than I like myself, Ritsu thought to himself with a dry laugh. But in all seriousness, it felt good to have someone believe in you even when- no, especially when - you didn’t believe in yourself.

And he loved the dedication Takano brought to his work. Behind his mask of confidence a Takano’s-san also worked his butt off. The feeling that everything had to be just perfect was something that Ritsu could 100% relate to, even if he wasn’t nearly as close as Takano-San to achieving it.

And yet, he had to admit that there was a undeniable part of their past in their relationship. For instance, his love of books. And the way they could talk about their favorite authors for hours. That passion for reading everything under the sun, as well as that thoughtful, withdrawn nature was what had drawn Ritsu to him initially. He still found that attractive as hell.

And something like a childlike idolization still lingered in his feelings for Takano-san. No matter how many times he tried to convince himself otherwise, it was true that he was, after all this time, still chasing after Takano-san, stubbornly clinging to a childhood crush. Takano-san had also been his first, after all (in so many ways.)

Like he had said before their relationship, his interest in Takano-San was something that could not be said to completely belong to now. Yet it also could not be said to completely belong to then either.

So while he hadn’t fallen in love with Takano-San simply because of what had happened in the past, he also couldn’t say it it wasn’t also because of what had happened in the past that they were where they are now. Or it wasn’t not because of what had happened that he felt so strongly about him. Or it wasn’t not not...?

Ughh it was complicated.

With another groan, he flipped over and finally opened his eyes, letting the sunlight flood in. He rubbed at them a couple times as his eyes adjusted to the light.

Takano-san’s room had the same layout as his own, only it was 1000 percent neater. He hadn’t expected Takano-San to be so particular about where he kept his stuff, to be so bare-bones, monastic aesthetic. But in a way it suited him. To allow himself the control he likes over everything and everyone else in his life. Not that he’d ever admit Takano-San had any control over him or his life - though it had been embarrassingly clear to him for a long time now that of course he did. Looking around at Takano-San’s few possessions, he felt an unprecedented calm settle over him.

He wouldn’t mind waking up here every day. No, he wouldn’t mind at all. But he didn’t want to disclose that to Takano-San just yet. Love was one thing, but moving in together was - whoaaa way too fast. Maybe, he mused, they would keep both of their apartments and just like alternate or something like that. Yeah, that’s it. Alternating. As much as he loved Takano (wow, it really was a load off not to have to have an internal battle royale with himself every time he thought about Takano - which was a lot) he hated change.

He sat up, rolled out of bed and toed on some pants that were lying around after their - ahem - activities of the previous night. Takano had laid out a shirt for him since his other one was in the wash (for reasons that made him blush furiously).

He slipped into the bathroom to brush his teeth and freshen up - he would be damned if Takano-San tried to kiss him again when he had morning breath (honestly this had happened more times than he wanted to admit) - and got ready to face the music. But just as he was about to step into the living room, his courage faltered.

How was he expected to face this man he now loved? It wasn’t like one teary confession and he would become a lovey dovey person destined to live happily ever after. He still had his pride - damnit! What did Takano-San expect after all- for him to fall all over him fawning and subservient and lovey-dovey? Please!

But. that still left the question of how to act now. Should he be extra short with him? Show him his place and not let him get too smug in his newfound knowledge that, yes, Onodera did love him back?

He didn’t get a chance to answer that question.

“You know I can see you standing there. What are you doing?” He heard the rumble of Takano-san’s just woken up voice. He furiously blushed.

“I know that,” Ritsu snapped back, but without much vitriol. “I am just.. thinking about my day that’s all.”

But when Ritsu walked in, and saw Takano sitting on the bookshelf nursing a cup of coffee, he wasn’t as lecture-y or condescending as he usually is. Rather he had such an adoring, amused look on his face that stopped Ritsu in his tracks for a moment.

“And what do you plan to do?” Takano blew softly on his coffee, never letting his eyes leave Ritsu.

“I’m ... I’m not sure yet.” Ritsu walked awkwardly and mechanically into the kitchen. He picked up a mug like a robot and jerkily poured some of the coffee left in the pot.

“You know you’re acting super weird, right now, right?”

“Well, sorry if my presence bothers you so much,” Ritsu bristled.

“On the contrary...” Unknowingly to him, Takano had slipped off his perch and sidled up against him. “I made you breakfast.” His voice was low and warm.

“Thanks...” Ritsu said awkwardly, glancing sidelong purposefully refusing Takano’s love-filled gaze. But Takano reached over and grazed his fingers along his cheek and gently turned his chin towards him.

“Um!” Ritsu jumped back instinctively.

Takano wavered for a split second - anyone who didn’t know him as well as Ritsu wouldn’t have even noticed - but then stepped in to close the distance between them and dipped his lips to meet Ritsu’s. Ritsu tensed a moment before giving into the affection.

Takano brought his hands up to cup Ritsu’s face as he deepened the kiss. His fingers stroked along Ritsu’s cheek lovingly, and Ritsu felt weird, as it always was when Takano was overly loving and gentle. Ritsu couldn’t help but pull away for a second.

“Ah- Takano-san...” He faltered.

He suddenly remembered their discussion of names last night. They were both close and Ritsu had had his legs locked around Takano’s waist, letting loose cries of “Takano-San” and “ah!!” Takano had silenced him with a kiss and then whispered low and deep in his ear - “No Takano-San, Masamune.” And Ritsu had been so gone as to whimper “Masamune” over and over like a prayer.

Thinking of this memory, Ritsu blushed furiously and felt very, very warm. He put up a hand to stave off Takano’s morning advances.

“Don’t you think we should — er...” he hesitated. 

“What do you want, Ritsu?” Takano-San tucked a stray hair behind his ears.

He didn’t really feel like he wanted to call him Masamune though. For him, the name Takano-San symbolized his newfound relationship with this man - something that was different than the one he had had with Saga-sempai. Plus, calling him Masamune would remind him of being jealous of Yokozawa in the early days of their dalliances.

But Takano-San didn’t bring up the name thing like Ritsu thought he would, rather ruffled his hair and said, “C’mon, let’s go eat.”

Ritsu managed a mild glare at the patronizing behavior, reaching up to fix his hair immediately.

Takano-San was already in the kitchen finalizing their dishes. Ritsu watched him from afar, watched his lean but muscular arms reach to put out the plates, his slightly missed raven hair, his strong hands. Takano-San really was the most beautiful man he had ever met. Ritsu wouldn’t have minded just sitting here watching all day.

The two of them - they worked. Ritsu’s frantic, blustering energy with Takano’s cool confidence. In different ways, both of them wore their hearts on their sleeves. And they already knew so much about each other’s pasts and quirks. Ritsu could imagine doing this, waking up to breakfast from Takano every day for the rest of his life. He would never tell Takano-san that, but he could allow himself the fantasy.

Maybe it was complex. And yet at the same time maybe it was incredibly simple. The two of them, as they were now, were an imperfectly perfect product of both their past and their more recent experiences. A mosaic of old and new, for better or for worse.

Maybe it was precisely that, Ritsu thought, smiling softly, which made all the difference.

[adrenaline-roulette]

He’ll save every one of us Chapter 7

Brian May x Reader Preview:  “Oh, I bet it’s carollers!” “It’s you.”  You frown, “Yes its me. Don’t look so thrilled.”

Chapter seven: How many keys do we have now?

A heavy dusting of snow clung to your hair as you trudge upstairs towards Brian’s flat, your arms filled with shopping bags and boxes of assorted weights. Had you gone overboard with Christmas shopping? Perhaps. But it wasn’t really your fault, not entirely. Mary had been with you all afternoon, and she kept pointing out little things in every store, and you just had to buy them! And of course then there were the Christmas decorations, five of the bags you now carried were filled to the brim with decorations alone! Mary had offered to help you carry everything home, though had quickly changed her mind the moment you both made it outside, and into the snow. You couldn’t blame her for wanting to rush home, it was freezing cold, and neither of you had dressed appropriately for snow, that and also if she had helped you get everything to Brian’s apartment, she would then have to go all away back across town to get to her own home.

Finally, you make it to the front door, shaking your head like a wet dog to throw the snow off. With your arms full, and straining, you kick the door with the toe of your boot, unable to use your hand to knock, or to retrieve your key from your bag. “Oh, I bet it’s carollers!” You hear Roger squeal from inside the apartment, before the sound of his running feet barrel towards the door. The door swings open and the grin on Roger’s face falls the instant his eyes fall on you. “It’s you.”

You frown at the blonde over the top of your purchases. “Yes its me. Don’t look so thrilled.” You tease, as he steps to the side of the doorway, allowing you entrance to the apartment. Navigating the clutter that lay on the floor, you find a clear space of floor near the sofa where you deposit the bags and boxes, standing up and stretching your arms out above your head. They had begun to cramp from staying in the same position for so long, and the relief you felt from no longer carrying such a heavy load was incredible. Making your way to the kitchen, you pour yourself a glass of water, turning around to glare at Roger, who had begun snooping through the bags. “Oi, get away!”

Roger backs away slightly, hands falling to his sides in defeat. “I just wanted to see what you got for Brian is all.”

“Yeah right, you’re looking for something that screams ‘Roger Taylor’ not ‘Brian May’.”

“Well, I’ve gotta make sure you got me something nice! I do deserve it after all, I’ve been nothing but charming to you since the day we met!” Roger grins, his bright blue eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Who says I got you anything at all?”

Roger had crouched back down to search through the bags once again, but your comment however did catch his attention, and he looked up at you with a pout. “You did get me something didn’t you?”

Placing the now empty glass in the sink, you fold your arms across your chest, and lean back against the kitchen counter. “No, I didn’t.” Roger looks about ready to cry as he stands up from the bags, placing his hands into his front pockets. “I’ve still got more shopping to do though. Your present may still be on its way.”

   “I hate you sometimes, you know that right?” Roger grumbles, though it’s obvious he’s teasing. You had spent long enough around him now to pick up on when he was messing around. There was the slight crease between his eyebrows, and the quirk at the corner of his lips, the tell-tale signs that his words held no merit.

You wave your hand dismissively. “Yes yes, I know, I’m the worst, you hate me, yadda yadda yadda… Now tell me, where’s Brian?”

Roger follows you into the kitchen, hoisting himself up onto the kitchen counter, swinging his legs so his heels kicked against the cabinets beneath the bench. “I’m not entirely sure, he went out an hour or so ago, said he’d be back before dinner though, so I doubt he’ll be too much longer.”

You nod your head softly, sucking your lower lip between your teeth. “Okay, well I’m gonna go hit the shower, and try and thaw my fingers.  I’m pretty sure they turned blue at one stage walking home.” You chuckle, shuffling your way out of the kitchen, making a pit stop at the shoe rack by the front door and kicking your boots off there.

“If Brian comes home while you’re showering, do you want me to send him in to see you?” Roger calls, and you can hear the cheeky smirk coming through with his words.

“Shut up you kinky little shit.” You grumble, heading further into the apartment, and away from the drummer.

“So is that a yes or no? Shower sex is the best sex!”

“Roger I really need you to stop talking about and thinking about Brain and my sex life!” You practically shriek, a blush forming on your cheeks.  It was hard to tell if Roger was suggesting sending Brian into the shower with you because he was a tease, or because he knew what you and Brian had done in that very shower only last week.

Opening the second bottom drawer of Brian’s chest of drawers, you pull out a pair of shorts, and a sweater, along with a bra and panties. Brian’s bedroom had gone from hosting only a few of your essential items a few months ago, to now housing practically everything you own. All your clothes were either in drawers, or hung up on one side of the closet, with Brian’s on the opposite side. Artwork that you used to have hung up on your bedroom walls in yours and Bree’s apartment, now lined the walls of Brian’s room, alongside his own posters and images. When you had first entered his bedroom, there was only the one, night stand which of coarse sat on his side of the bed, there was however now a second, which sat on your side, with a lamp, alarm clock, a few books, and a scented candle all resting on its surface. The bookshelf, that too was now an entirely different story. Your books from home now lined the shelves alongside Brian’s, and scattered among them were framed photos, some of the two of you, others of Queen, and a few of you and Bree. It was safe to say that you had made yourself at home here with Brian and Roger in their home, all the while still paying weekly rent for the apartment you once shared with Bree. The topic of where you lived was one that rarely came up in conversation, it was either ignored entirely, or tiptoed around.

   Your friends and family all knew where to find you these days, and it wasn’t at your actual address, though no one could blame you for not wanting to stay there, especially not alone. It had become an unspoken rule, that you would spend your all your time here, everyone expected it these days. And you know for a fact, that the moment you walked in carrying decorative cushions for the bed, Brian and Roger knew that you wouldn’t be leaving any time soon. However your living arrangements weren’t exactly official, your name was only on one rental agreement, and it wasn’t for this apartment. Though you know, just as well as anyone, that this was your home now.

                                                                    **********

The hot water removed the sting of ice which had settled deep within your bones, you hadn’t realised just how cold you were until you stepped under the spray of the shower head, the feeling of water droplets practically melting you. Rinsing off the last few remaining suds of conditioner from your hair, you step out of the shower wrapping a towel around your head like a turban, and a second towel around your torso. The steam from the shower had fogged up the mirror above the sink, and you wipe it away with your forearm, reaching for your moisturiser to apply over your face, completely unaware to the conversation that had taken place at the dining table.

                                                                    **********

“Okay, so you need to sign here, I’ll sign here, and Y/N will sign on this line right here.” Brian explains to Roger, pointing to each line respectively while wielding a pen at Roger. The blonde nods, and carefully takes the pen from Brian’s hand, scribbling his signature on the dotted line.

“What took you so long anyways? You met up with the landlord for lunch, I expected you to be home hours ago!”

Brian smirked, as he took the pen back and signed his own name on the second line. “I had to find a gift box, and card. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find something that’s not Christmas themed this time of year? I went to probably ten different stores, just to find a card that didn’t have a Christmas tree on it! I also had to get another key cut for Y/N to put in the gift box.”

“She already has a key though, why get a second?”

Brian shrugged lightly, producing the new key from his coat pocket, and placing it carefully inside the pale yellow gift box, securing the lid with a purple ribbon. “I want this to all feel official, plus I can’t just let her open an empty box.”

“Couldn’t you have just left the box, and gotten the card instead?”

Brian glares across at Roger, quirking an eyebrow at him. “When you ask someone to move in with us, you can do it however you want to. But I’m doing this my way.”

Roger takes a step away from Brian and the table, swinging his arms by his sides. “Okay, but how will the landlord react when we eventually leave this place and we hand over six keys, as opposed to the original two we were issued with?”

“Well, he knows that there will now be a third key, it���s just the extra three that may cause an issue…”

The sound of the shower turning off causes both men to look toward the bathroom, Brian quickly turning back to the table, folding the documents into thirds, and slipping them inside the card, before sealing them in an envelope. “Hey Y/N, do you mind coming out here when you’re finished?” He calls, his voice echoing off the hallway walls.

His answer comes in the form of you creaking the bathroom door open, and shoving your hand out to perform a thumbs up. A waft of steam billowing out of the bathroom.

“Bloody hell, how much hot water did she use?” Roger gasps, eyes growing wide at the mist. “I swear to God, if there’s not hot water left when I go for my shower, I will take my name off those new rental agreements.” He grumbles.

“Don’t be so petty Rog, I’m sure there’s plenty of hot water left for you, princess.” Brian sighs, rolling his eyes at the cranky drummer.

                                                                    **********

The knitted sweater you had selected from the drawer falls to your mid-thigh, the garish combination of pink and green wool was likely the most obnoxious article of clothing you owned, yet also the most comfortable. And seeing as it had been a gift from Roger after one of his and Freddie’s days working at Kensington, you felt obligated to wear it Infront of him at least once.   Tossing your clothes into the laundry hamper in the bedroom, you head into the kitchen, finding Brian and Roger already there, sitting at the table, waiting for you. “Hey Bri.” You grin, wrapping your arms over his shoulders, and pressing a kiss to his temple.  

Brian turned to look at you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close to him. “Hello my love.” He smiles, tilting his chin up as you lean down to press a kiss to his lips. He always felt warm and safe, and the lingering taste of tea on his lips always caused you to grin, this right here, this was home. Roger clears his throat, making no effort to hide what he was doing when you and Brian pull away to look at him.  Roger simply smirks, taking a long sip of tea from his chipped mug.   Brian uses his hands on your waist to turn you, before pulling you down to sit on his lap, reaching into the middle of the table for the envelope and box. “This is for you.”

“Bri, it’s not Christmas, or my birthday for that matter… Is this an apology gift? What did you do that you need to buy me an apology gift for?” You gasp, turning on Brian’s lap to look at him, eyes wild.

Roger can’t help but laugh, shaking his head in mirth. “You’re such a drama queen Y/N, calm down!”

“I know it’s too early for Christmas, which is why this isn’t your Christmas present. Can’t I just give you a gift because I love you?” Brian grins, using the hand still resting on your hip to rub soothing circles through your sweater.

“Well, I suppose so…” You smile softly, taking the items from Brian, placing the box on the table, and working to open the envelope. You drag your nail under the fold, ripping the paper, until you can retrieve the card. the card is packed with stacks of paper, and you tilt your head to the side in curiosity. “What is this Brian?”

“Open it and find out.”

Finding Brian to be not so forthcoming with answers, you do as he suggests, and unfold the stack of papers, your eyes scanning through the tiny text on each page. It’s not until you reach the final page of the rental agreement that you understand what is happening. Right there, beneath Roger and Brian’s signatures is space for a third tenant’s signature, your signature. “Holy fuck… Holy fucking fuck… Is this real? Are you sure, both of you?”

“You practically already live here Y/N! It’s only fair that you start paying rent too!” Roger chuckles, swirling the last of his tea in the bottom of his mug.

“Well yeah, I know that. But, this is a big deal, I mean, I know I haven’t been to my apartment in forever, but if I sign this, I’ll have to end the other rental agreement. If you all get sick of me, I won’t have anywhere else to go, this will be my home…” You trail off, as you feel Brian’s grip on you tighten slightly. He leans forwards and rests his chin over your shoulder, his curls tickling your neck.

“Y/N, I want you to live here, I love waking up with you every morning, and knowing that when I come home at night, I get to end the day with you in my arms. Signing this won’t change anything between us. Roger will continue to bother us and interrupt our alone time as he already does, and I will continue to steal your shampoo, while both of us pretend that I don’t.” The rumble of his laughter emitting from his chest and against your back.

Your bottom lip is clenched between your teeth as you read, then reread the forms in front of you. It was one thing to live here the way you did now, with no official agreements, and no lease keeping you there. Signing this would change all of that, and the idea of more change scared the hell out of you. As if sensing your trepidation Brian rests his palm over the pages, taking special care to conceal the signatures. “You don’t have to sign right away if you don’t want to Y/N. Or you don’t have to sign at all if that’s what you want.” He begins, though stops as you rest your own hand over his, your fingers curling over to clutch at his own.

“Do you have a pen?” Your words a practically a whisper, though you’re close enough for Brian to hear, a smile playing on his lips.

“Course I do.” Reluctantly he moves his hand out from beneath yours, before searching through his pocket for the pen he had used earlier for his own signature. Holding it out for you, his chocolate eyes watch your every move like a hawk.

You’re not sure what you expect when you glide the biro across the dotted line, perhaps a Mariachi band to burst through the door, or a banner to drop for the ceiling, all to congratulate you on moving in with Brian and Roger. “I suppose this makes it a bit easier to explain all of my purchases today then…”

“What do you mean?” Brian smirks, taking the pen back and placing it once again in his pocket, where it will likely stay until he next washes the jeans he was wearing.

Turning slightly on his lap, you look over to the mountain of bags and boxes, all still sitting on the floor, and remarkably untouched by Roger. “I figured you were all lacking in the festive department, so I may or may not have bought as many Christmas decorations as possible.” You shrug, watching Roger grin from the corner of your eye. “It occurred to me on my way home, that it was one thing for me to move my things into your bedroom. But an entirely different thing to completely decorate an apartment which I didn’t actually live in. Now that I’ve signed this however, I can decorate as much as I want!”  You declare triumphantly, pointing at the now signed documents on the table.

Brian just shakes his head, long hair moving to curtain his face as he looks at the floor. “How much did you buy? And where is it all going to go?”

Roger jumps in, pointing an accusing finger at Brian, a glare settling over his blue eyes. “Firstly, who cares how much Y/N bought, there is no such thing as too much Christmas! And secondly, if you don’t stop complaining, I will personally assist Y/N in decorating the Red Special in little Santa Claus stickers.”

Your eyes go wide and mouth dry as you take in what Roger had just said. “Bri, I promise you, I had nothing to do with that outburst. Up until just now, Rog didn’t know what was in those bags!”

Brian sighs, before the sound is overtaken by a low chuckle, lifting his head to look at you once again. “Thank you Rog, I’ll keep that in mind.” Roger seems to accept this, and pushes away from the table, taking his now empty mug into the kitchen. “Well, I suppose the right thing for me to do now, is to offer my assistance in helping you decorate.”

Your eyes sparkle as you grin at Brian, leaping off his lap in a hurry, dancing on the spot as you wait for him to stand. “Oh wait! Shouldn’t I open this first?” You gesture the small box still sat on the table, having gone untouched.

“If you would like to.” Brian smiles, handing the box to you, before standing beside you, resting one large palm over your shoulder.

The ribbon finds a home on your wrist, as the lid of the box is placed back on the table from where it had come. Gazing down at the box, you can’t help the burst of laughter which erupts from within you. “Oh Brian…” You chuckle, the silver key nestled amongst pink tissue paper. “I already have a key.”

“I know, but I thought this would be nice. But now that you have reacted the same way as Roger did when he saw it, I’m thinking I have made a mistake.”

Tilting your head to the side, you regard Brian with a warm smile. “I love it, this is all amazing Bri. And besides, this new key is nice and shiny, my current one looks like it’s been run over by a car a few times!” You place the key back in its box for safe keeping, making a mental note to swap it out for the old one before the night is over.

Making your way to the pile of bags with Brian hot on your heels, you hum quietly, crouching down as you begin to pull out packages upon packages of Christmas decorations. “So I found this darling wreath, which we simply have to put out on the door!” You hold the wreath up to show Brian, who had begun sorting through on of the other bags, pulling out tinsel and baubles. The wreath is no bigger than a dinner plate, covered entirely in fake pine tree fronds. Scattered throughout are tiny red Christmas berries, with little leaves attached. Gold glitter had been dusted over the entire wreath, allowing it to sparkle under the light. Finally, a large red tartan ribbon was tied intricately in a bow in the centre, tying the whole thing together. “What do you think?”

   Brian pauses his unpacking and looks over the wreath, nodding his head in approval. “It’s a far cry better than the hand drawn wreath Roger stuck up on the door last year!” He smirks, before taking out a silver sparkly star, covered in multi coloured fake gemstones. “I see a tree topper, but no tree. Too lazy to buy a tree while you were out?” He teases, ducking out of the way as you throw a balled-up bag at his head.

“Don’t be an ass. I had plans for going tree shopping with you tomorrow, but maybe I’ll take Roger with me instead.” You stick your tongue out at him, a smile threatening to spoil your silly expression.

Carefully Brian replaces the star in the box he had taken it from, moving on to open more. “I know a little farm a bit of a ways out that sells really nice Christmas trees. It’s a bit of a drive to get there, but it’s a family run business, and they always have the most beautiful one’s to pick from.”

“That sounds lovely, let’s do it.”

Brian grins, standing up with a long garland, made of the same fake pine as the wreath, with baubles in a repeating pattern of red, blue, green, yellow, orange, pink, all tied with gold ribbon. “I suppose I should put my height to good use and hang this up somewhere?”

You gaze up to see what he was talking about, before nodding vigorously. “That would be great, I’ll get started on these lights.” You grin, holding up a bucket full of teardrop shaped colourful lights.

                                                                    **********

An hour later, and the interior of your apartment looks as if a Christmas bomb had exploded, every inch of the small home had been covered in tinsel, baubles, lights, and garlands, and all of this was before the tree! As you hung the final strand of tinsel around the curtain railing, you step back to admire your and Brian’s handiwork, clasping your hands together before you. “This looks amazing! Damn we make a good team!”

Brian walks up behind you, snaking his arms around your waist, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “I must say, it does look rather spectacular.” He grins, taking your hand, and twirling you in his arms so you stand chest to chest. “Our first Christmas together and you’ve already decorated as if you’d been living here for years. What will happen next year?”

You tilt your chin up, locking eyes with your tree of a boyfriend. “Just you wait, I’ll have a live action nativity scene set up, we’ll have a Christmas tree in every room, and Santa will be set up in the bathroom”

At this very moment, Roger decides to poke his head around the corner from the hallway, looking at you with a great deal of curiosity. “I’m putting my hand up now for being bathroom Santa!”

“I would pay good money to see you dressed as Santa, Rog.” Brian smirks, wrapping his arms tighter around you, feeling you laugh against him.

“Oh, actually wait, quick question. Does Bathroom Santa have to behave appropriately? Or do I get to be naughty?” The blonde asks, a worried look crossing his features.

“Roger Taylor! Stop trying to destroy the joy that is Christmas with yoru sleezy Santa!” You cry out, face red from laughing.

For once, Brian jumps to Roger’s rescue. “To be fair Y/N, you’re the one who came up with the idea of bathroom Santa.”

You groan loudly, flopping your arms to your side in defeat. “Fine, everything else stays the same, but bathroom Santa will now be replaced by kitchen Santa.”

“Oh cool, that means I can be boozy kitchen Santa instead! That’s even better!”

You almost scream at Roger for that comment, but you don’t get the chance, your frustration being put on hold due to someone knocking on the front door, that was newly decorated with your wreath. “I’ll get it.”

Making your way over to the front, you can hear Brian and Roger trying hard to conceal their giggles, though they are doing a terrible job. You unbolt the front door, before swinging the door open, eyeing the person on the other side up and down. “Whatever you’re selling, we’re not interested.” You deadpan, before swinging the door shut in their face.

 Reread chapters: One Two Three Four Five Six

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[inmyownlittlecorner5]

Moonlight Chapter 5: The Morning After

A fanfic Novel by la-topolina

Rated for Mature Audiences

Warnings: Language, Violence, Sexual Content

Chapter 5/26

Moonlight Masterpost+

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Chapter Six+ >>

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Severus felt the late morning sun on his face as he gradually swam back to consciousness. The delectable memories of the night before swirled through his lucid dreaming and he dreaded to open his eyes. He knew that if he did he would be back in his wretched house at Spinner’s End, looking up at the pesky water mark that he could never quite remove from the ceiling of his bedroom. He kept his eyes stubbornly closed, trying to continue his dreaming, but he was awake enough now that that was impossible. He ran his hands experimentally over the bed and, while he was alone in it, he realized that the sheets were smoother and finer than his sheets at home. The bed was softer and smelled faintly of lavender. He opened his eyes and a smile spread over his lips as he saw Miranda’s airy bedroom rather than his own gloomy chamber. 

He heard a pleasant clatter of pans and dishes through the closed door and smelled a mixture of tea, coffee, and sausage. He stretched languidly and got up to dress. He took his time doing up the buttons on the front of his frock coat and idly studied the room as he did. The bed stood under the window that was letting in the sunlight. There was a bookshelf on one wall filled with novels and poetry and a handsomely carved cherrywood armoire standing on another. The final wall was covered with children’s drawings inscribed with the names of the various artists and dedicated to ‘Auntie.’ A framed piece of needlework with the inscription ‘From Mama’ hung in the middle of this gallery. The embroidery was a nicely executed border of roses surrounding a piece of Latin prose: ‘Nisi Dominus ædificaverit donum, in vanum laboraverunt qui ædificant eam.’ He scoffed at the sentiment and turned to the mirror hanging on the back of the door. His hair was a bit tangled from the previous evening’s exertions and he did what he could to neaten it. He turned and considered the bed for a moment. The twisted sheets both pleased him with their implications and irritated him with their disorder. He was toying with the idea of returning to the bed rather promptly following breakfast, but he decided it would be more entertaining to scramble the linens again rather than to leave it thus. He flicked his wand and the bed made itself up neat as a pin. Satisfied, he emerged from the bedroom to find his partner in crime. Miranda was standing by the stove, flipping omelettes with the efficiency of a short-order cook. She wore a long blue sheath dress and her feet were bare. Her hair flowed over her back, restrained by a copper colored scarf as she cooked. He approached her and pulled aside the curtain of her hair to drop his lips onto the back of her neck. She made a sound strikingly similar to a purr but said, “I’m afraid I’ll have to eat if you’re hoping for another round. For some reason, I forgot to have dinner last night. I can’t imagine why.” She smiled impishly over her shoulder at him. “I suppose I can overlook such weakness this once,” he replied smoothly, returning her smile.

She handed him a plate of omelette and sausage and they convened at the table which was already set with toast, butter, marmalade, tea, coffee, and The Daily Prophet. They ate and read in companionable silence and, if she spent much of the meal running her bare foot up his leg, he certainly wasn’t one to complain about it. When they had demolished the food and were loitering over coffee and tea, a bell over her desk started ringing loudly.

She glanced up from her half of the paper and gave the bell an annoyed look. “I’m going to have to answer that,” she said. “It’s my father trying to check in and he’ll think I’m dead if I don’t talk to him. It’s been a few days since I gave report and I don’t want him to send someone looking for me.” She smiled at him and went on, “Would you mind terribly pretending you don’t exist for the next few minutes?” “Are you saying that you’re ashamed to have your father know that I’ve stolen your virtue?” he teased. She laughed and kissed his cheek lightly. “I knew you’d understand.” She went to the desk and took a small mirror out of one of the drawers, then she headed into the potions closet. He returned to the paper but, as the closed door did not completely muffle the sound, he could not help overhearing her conversation. “How are the Royals doing, Papa?” she was saying. “I can’t get a paper or anything on the radio about them over here.”

There was a whistle of disapproval and a deep male voice replied, “Not good, pixie, not good. The Yanks pummeled them last night. They’ve been on a losing streak for a while now. They don’t get their act together soon, they can forget about the playoffs.” “Hmmm, maybe I’m glad I can’t witness it then.” “I sure wish I couldn’t. Did you finish the paperwork on the Islington case?” “Yes Papa, and I swear they make it more complicated every time I do. I don’t even want to think about what I’m going to have to go through after the next case.” “Better you than me. It looks like you’ve got a lot of work rolling in over there. Do you want to stay?” “I think so. I have enough to keep me busy through the first quarter of next year at least. Honestly, I wonder if there’s something stirring things up. That vampire was harder to catch than he should have been and I usually don’t have a waiting list this long. The Minister of Magic himself approached me yesterday and wants to meet about something.” “That’s my girl, hitting the big time. You behave when you meet with him, do you hear me? Don’t be telling your dirty jokes just to act cute.” “Papa, I do know how to behave when I want to. But where do you think I got my material in the first place?” “Don’t go blaming me for things that are my fault. Watch your back. I’ll talk to you soon.” “I won’t, and I will. Love to Mama and the rest.” She came back into the room and replaced the mirror in its drawer, but she was frowning a bit, as though she were pondering something. She returned to her seat at the table and asked, “You don’t happen to know of anything that might be stirring up a load of Dark Magic over here, do you?” It was an innocent question, and if she had asked it of another wizard, he would have shrugged and shook his head. However, Severus was unfortunately very aware of who was behind the rise in Dark Magic in England at the moment. He kept his eyes on the paper and his expression blank. “No.” “It is strange, though. Usually there are only a few cases in a given year in England. And the darker creatures that I’ve been rounding up are stronger than I would usually expect. There must be something egging them on.” She sipped her coffee and went on, half to herself, “I’ll have to do some digging. Who’s that Headmaster at your school? Albus Dumbledore, isn’t it? Do you think he’d have time to meet with me? I imagine if anyone had his thumb on the pulse of magic in Britain he would.” “Albus Dumbledore is a very busy man.” He stared unseeing at the paper, his mind starting to go down an unpleasant path.

“Hmmmm. I seem to remember some incident in the fourteenth century where St. Patrick’s Purgatory at Lough Derg opened a bit wider than usual and all sorts of things got out. I wonder…” Her voice trailed off and she wandered over to the bookshelf, scanning the titles. Eventually she picked out an enormous leather bound tome and scooted some dishes over so that she could open it on the table. She started leafing through the aging pages, completely unaware that Severus’s expression was darkening. This had been a mistake. He was a thirty-five year old wizard, and one would think that he could enjoy the favors of a willing female without any terrible consequences. However, he was Severus Snape and nothing good ever happened to him. He was embroiled in a plot to bring down the Dark Lord. He spent his days teaching the ungrateful child of his murdered love and her wretched husband, and his nights playing the role of a faithful Death Eater. One false move, one unguarded thought could bring instant, painful death to himself and any number of other people. And really, how much did he know about Miranda Rose anyway? Who was to say that she wasn’t some sort of trap set for him? Merlin, he hated his life. He sighed and decided it was best to end it quickly. He hoped that she wouldn’t cry or do whatever embarrassing thing women did when their lovers jilted them. He set down the paper and said in a cool voice, “I think it is time I were leaving.” She closed the book and looked up at him with a smile. “You don’t have to leave. I can do this later.” He stood slowly and summoned a bland, cold expression. “I don’t think you understand, Miss Rose. This was a mistake that will not be repeated.” She arched an elegant eyebrow at him. “Oh?” “You’ve been a charming diversion, but I’m afraid I simply do not have time for any more such foolishness.” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her bare feet on the table. The skirt of her dress slid up her legs, exposing them to the thigh. She took out a cigarette and lit it, her face a mask of amusement. She blew out a long line of smoke and murmured, “Goodness me. The dreaded morning after attack of scruples. I’m disappointed in you, professor. I had thought your moral code sufficiently flexible not to be bothered by them. What a shame.” Her mocking tone angered him in a way tears would not have done. He could not help trying to take her down a peg and said silkily, “Perhaps my moral code is not the problem. Perhaps I was simply dissatisfied with your performance.” She smiled nastily at him. “Please. I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed such a pathetic display of eagerness and gratitude as you provided last night. How long had it been? A year? Five years? Ten?” “What a disgustingly vulgar trollop you are,” he sneered. “Sticks and stones, professor, sticks and stones.” She swung her pretty legs off of the table and sashayed to the door. When she reached it, she opened it gracefully. “This is a door. Feel free to use it.” “I sincerely hope that your next mark separates your obscene head from your indecent body,” he snapped as he stalked out of the cabin. “From your mouth to God’s ears,” she returned. “Have a nice life.” She slammed the door after him and angrily started cleaning the breakfast mess. She scrubbed the dishes without magic in order to better vent her anger on them. What the fuck was wrong with him? He’d seemed perfectly fine and even rather amorous this morning. Then he’d suddenly turned cold and nasty for no apparent reason. And really, even if he hadn’t been completely thrilled with their encounter, there was no call to be an ass about it. Hadn’t he ever heard of a one night stand? She finished the dishes and stalked into her bedroom to air the bed clothes. It was her habit to do this most days, and she definitely wanted to do so today. She had no desire to sleep on sheets that smelled like that cold fish of an Englishman. She jerked open the bedroom door and stopped short. He’d made the bed. Men never thought to make the bed. She sighed and opened the window, letting in the breeze off the Channel. She flicked her wand at the bed and the linens pulled themselves backwards and hung on an unseen clothesline, fluttering gently in the wind. She sat down and stared out the window without really noticing anything. It had been a lovely night. She thought she had hit rather close to the mark with the gist of her insult this morning, but there had been nothing pathetic about him. They had both been a bit awkward and sloppy at first, but they had soon managed to remember how everything worked. Indeed, he had seemed so intoxicated by the heady drug of rendering one’s partner helpless with pleasure that she had half wondered if he had ever experienced it before. She felt a bit sorry now for being quite so cutting with her tongue, but it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t be seeing him again and that was that. She supposed she really should get to work. There was research to be done and potions to brew and bullets to make. She got up, intending to be virtuous and start with the potions—her least favorite—but a particularly delicious waft of sea air blew in through her window. She changed her mind and went to pack her leather messenger bag instead. Bathing suit, towel, sun hat, novel. She braided her hair, put on her sandals, and headed down the the village. A little sun bathing and a swim in the Channel would be just the thing. She could be virtuous tomorrow.

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Moonlight Masterpost+

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Chapter Six+ >>

[futurewriter2000]

Rainy days (Fred Weasley x reader)

There was a rainy day in Hogwarts, which was quite unusual for this time of the month. But lucky for you, you loved the rain. You could actually do your schoolwork for once in your lifetime. It's not that you don't want to do it, you just become lazy when it comes to it. And where there is a sunny day outside , there is no way you will spend it inside. So you were currently in the library. The books were open, parchment and ink laid right in front of you, rain hitting the windows and some noise coming from the winds that blew against the Hogwarts door. It was wonderful.

You sat there for almost 3 hours now, working on your essays and homework. You had no clue you were that behind, but you were almost finished with it and you weren't gonna stop now. That was your goal until you felt something on your leg. You jumped out from the chair and looked down. A ginger boy was hidden under your table, freckles under his brown eyes and a wide grinn spread across his face. You hoped to see which house he was in, but from the circumstances you knew excatly who he was. "Bloody hell, Weasley! You want to give me a heart attack."

"Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you love, but I am currently on the run." he replied, his head popping out of the table and turning left and right.

"And where is your other partner in crime?" you said, still not knowing which of them is which.

"Georgie left me to die. I told him we should go to a library and he ran up to the Astronomy tower. That git." That makes him Fred, you thought. Suddenly the library door opened and another tall ginger came bursting in. His face was almost as red as his hair, his fists clenched against his body and his shirt, full of holes." Come sit back down. Pretend everything is normal." he whispered to you.

You slowly walked back to your seat and whispered down. "What will I get in return?"

" Well... I could think of a few ways." grinned Fred.

"I was more thinking more of...oh I don't know.... do my school work for about two weeks." you started to bargain.

"You must be mad. I don't even do my schoolwork, you think I'll do someone else's." his voice a bit louder.

Ron suddenly noticed you, sitting there. It was quite suspicious to him, that you were talking to yourself. He walked over and you looked up from your book, which you were reading. "Hello Ronald. What are you doing here? Are we on for tutoring?"

"No. No" he replied, his red face looking left and right.

You looked down to his shirt, torn and full with holes. "What happened to you?" you asked.

"My brothers happened. Did you see them?" he asked, coming a bit closer and jumping up and down from rage.

" I don't know. You know I have been pretty busy with this schoolwork. I didn't really pay attention to my surroundings. I have no idea how I will go through with it for the next two weeks." you hinted down on Fred.

Fred rolled his eyes. I mean the fact that his little brother has a bad temper and that he just blew him up, he was sure he would be dead. But also he would rather be dead than do school for two weeks.

"So? Did you see them?" asked Ron, confused.

"If I saw one of them, what excatly are you going to do to him?" you asked, feeling Fred tense up down there.

"I'll kill him, thats what! I'll kill him with that exploading thing of his!" he yelled, getting a loud shush from madam Pince. "I am gonna push that thing so far down their throat, they won't speak for weeks." You chuckled and, without Ron seeing, you dropped the pencil and a tiny piece of paper on the ground. "Is he here? I saw you talking to yourself earlier. Quite odd of you."

You looked down on the ground and noticed '1 week and thats it.' written on the paper.

"I sometimes read outloud. I used to do it all the time when I was a girl. What it goes for that brother of yours, I heard he was on his way to the Astronomy tower." you said and Ron ran off.

When the coast was clear you moved your chair away and Fred climbed out of his hiding spot. " You ratted Georgie." he said.

"Well he ain't the one doing my homework for the next week. Plus he left you to die." you said putting your books away.

He sat down next to you. "You know I saw you around. Never got your name though."

"It's (y/n)." you said, getting up and walking towards the shelves. You put the books where they belonged and than turned to the other section, where the last book is supposed to go.

"Than you already know who I am." he smirked at you.

"Can't introduce yourself, Percy?" you said.

"Percy? My name is not Percy, heavens no, I don't want to be cursed by a name like that."

"Is it Charlie? Bill? " you teased him.

He smiled. "You are making fun of me aren't you."

"Oh right. It's something on the letter F. Is it Federico? No wait, thats wrong. It's shorter right? Frodo?" you said and put the last book on the shelf. You turned around and gave him a mischievous smile.

He took a step closer. "Actually." he said taking another step closer. "Its Fred." he said, standing so close your noses were almost touching.

You looked down on his lips up to his gorgeous brown eyes. You bit your lip as a ray of suncshine shone through the window on his messy ginger hair, his freckles even more standing out than before. He leaned in to kiss you, but you stepped away. He leaned his forehead on the bookshelf of embarrasment and closed his eyes.

You chuckled and put your hand on his shoulder. "Sorry Weasley. But untill I get that homework of mine, you ain't getting your reward." you winked at him and walked away.

---

You had potions and you were running down towards the dungeons. 'Snape is going to kill me!' you thought as you were almost at the door. You opened them and burst in. "Proffesor I am really sorry I'm late I-"

Before you could finish, proffesor Snape cut you off. " Late again miss (y/l/n). This time 5 minutes, better make it five points from your house." he sneered and you quietly sat down next to your friend. Snape walked in front of the board, his posture upright as always, his eyes especially set on you. "Well miss (y/l/n). Since you were the last to come to this class, what can you tell me about the Volubilis potion?"

Shit.

'Wait I had that to write an essay about.' You looked over to Fred as you knew he has written it about it. He knew excatly what Volubilis potion is, but for your misfortune you haven't got a clue. You stood quiet and a sly smirk appeared on Snape's lips.

"I see you have forgotten what you have written on your essay, miss (y/l/n). So why don't you mr. Weasley tell us what Volubilis potion is since you have kindly decided to do her essay for her." said porffesor Snape walking towards Fred.

"I have no idea what you are talking about proffesor." answered Fred, his eyes automatically glancing at you.

"10 points from Gryffindor for lying to a proffesor and same goes for you miss (y/l/n) for not writing your essay. Now I want three scrolls from you and mr. Weasley on Wiggenweld potion by Friday." he snapped and returned to his lesson.

When the class was over you walked out of the classroom and right after your friend. You grabbed her by the shoulder and turned her around. "What the hell (y/f/n)?!"

"What?!" she spoke innocently.

"Don't play innocent. I know you ratted me out!" you snapped at her. "You were the only one I told because I thought you were my friend but like any other Slytherin you snitched on me. So tell me, what did you get in return. A prefect badge? A spot on the Quidditch team?" you shouted at her.

"I-I-I'm sorry." she said.

"Well, sorry ain't gonna cut it." you said and turned your heel.

You were walking really quickly, almost running. You ran into the library and to your luck it was deserted, so you ran between bookshelves and sat down. You didn't cry. You couldn't. You weren't sad either, you were mad. Mad at Snape, mad at your friend, but mostly you were mad at yourself. You just got embarrassed and yelled at by your teacher, you cost your house 15 points and you dragged Fred Weasley down with you.

"Hey." said a gentle voice few feet away from you.

You looked up to see a tall figure, leaning on the shelves. "How did you find me?" you said, looking back on the ground.

"Well I followed you. " He slowly approached you. "Plus I kind of new you would be here." he sat down next to you.

"I'm sorry." you said quietly, still not looking him in the eyes. "I should have never asked you to do my homework." you said and looked up to another shelf of books in front of you.

"Sorry? Are you kidding me. If I hadn't done your homework I would have no clue at Charms or Transfiguration. And I actually knew the answer to the Volubilis potion." he tried to cheer you up. "Oh and may I say, nobody has ever put me in trouble, except for George and Lee of course, but usually its the other way around."

You chuckled a bit but you still couldn't stop being mad. "Thanks for trying to cheer me up but I just...I just hate being embarassed in front of everybody, I cope with it very badly."

"I get embarrassed loads of time, but you know what I do?"

You finally looked up to meet his eyes. "What?" you asked.

"I go on a date with the closest person in the room." he grinned at you.

You chuckled. "If this is how you ask a girl on a date, you clearly need some practice."

"But is it working?" he asked getting up and offering you a hand.

You took his hand and stood up. "I would love to go on a date with you." you said grabbing your bag and putting it on your shoulder. He took a step forward and pushed you against the shelves. He brushed a strand of your hair from your cheek and tucked it behind your ear. He looked down on your lips and then again to your eyes. "Are you going to kiss me, Weasley?" you teased him.

"Depends." he said, gently putting his hand on your cheek. "Will you move away again?"

You smirked at him and as close as you were you answered. "We will just have to see, won't we."

He pressed his lips against yours and you felt electricity spread through your body. You clenched your fist and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. He smiled and pushed you aginst the shelf a bit harder, kissing your neck.

Suddenly, out of nowhere a book fell on top of the two of you and as it fell it opened right on the page 394. You both started laughing and looked down on the book. Fred picked it up and chuckled. He turned the book around and you saw The Wiggenweld Potion written across it.

"We should probably start working on it. Three scrolls till Friday." said Fred looking down on the book.

You stood up on your tiptoes and wrapped your hands around his neck , your fingers playing with his messy hair. You gave him a soft kiss on the lips and looked up to his brown eyes. " Yeah we could do that or..." you said and started to kiss his neck. You heard a book drop and he pushed you against the book shelf, again, making more than one book fall down.

You looked at eachother, laughing. "Maybe its best if we go somewhere else."

"I agree."

[kamen-rider-zed]

Do You Believe in Miracles? Chapter 6

Me attempting to write this chapter:

This fic started as something DRASTICALLY different before I started posting it. The following couple of chapters are edited versions of chapters I wrote over a YEAR ago.

Thanks to @ageisia for being my amazing beta!

You can find this chapter and my other work posted on my AO3 and my FF!

Chapter 6: Slow and Steady

Nino strolled through the Parisian afternoon, Daft Punk blaring through his headphones, the warm August air wafting around him. On his way to Alya's house to study, he had his backpack slung over his shoulder, loaded with school books, a few albums Alya wanted to borrow, and a copy of Interstella 5555 he'd borrowed from Adrien. Nino was disappointed he hadn't known his favorite artists had a movie based on their music, but he was still excited to share it with Alya.

He blushed and smiled as his mind turned to Alya. Her fire, her passion, her drive, all so intoxicating, inspiring. Who knew all it took to get a sort-of-semi-unofficial-girlfriend was to have a superhero lock you in a gorilla cage for a few hours? Maybe Marinette and Adrien should try 'couple’s cage therapy' sometime. He bobbed his head to the beat and managed to dance around every pedestrian on the sidewalk between his house and his destinationl. Well, almost every pedestrian. In the middle of singing, he didn't notice the short Asian man with a box full of old books in his arms.

“One more time/Music's got me feeling so free/We're gonna celebrate/Celebrate and dance sowoOOOOAHHHH!”

Both men went to the sidewalk, books scattered, and Nino's backpack, the zipper already on its last legs, split open spilling his homework and CDs everywhere. 'Note to self: ask for a new backpack for Christmas.' Nino scrambled to clean the mess, blurting apologies interspersed with swears and thankful none of his CDs were scratched. Satisfied his homework was back in his torn bag, he turned to the old man, whose lips were moving, but with his headphones still on, Nino couldn't hear a word of it.

He pushed the headphones down on his neck. “Sorry, what was that?”

“I said there's no reason to apologize. I was moving too slow for an energetic young man such as yourself.”

Nino waved his hands. “No, no dude! I was the one not paying attention. Here, let me help.”

He snatched up some books and stacked them as best he could back in the old cardboard box. Some paperback Louis L'Amour westerns, Candide by Voltaire, a worn out copy of Through the Looking Glass, and a much older book knocked open to...a picture of Volpina? Nino plunked the books in his hands back into the box, his eyes never leaving the fox woman. He lifted the book and ran his darkening eyes over the ninja-esque figure and the strange writing. The image wasn't exactly like Volpina, but the tail-like sash, the ears, and the flute were similar enough.

“Why...do you have a book about Volpina?” he asked through gritted teeth. If one were asked to describe Nino, the words loyal, friendly, and chill might come up, but you would never hear angry or vengeful, and he wasn't. Unless it involved a particular fox-themed villain and his best friend. Yeah, Adrien had been caught up in Akuma attacks before. Turned into a brainwashed knight, his car blown up by an invisible bazooka, cocooned in purple slime, but Volpina had targeted him. Made it personal.

The old man took one look at the book, grimaced, and pulled it from Nino's hands. “It's not just about Volpina. It contains passages on all of the Miraculous heroes.”

“Hero?” Nino stared at the old man as though he'd told him 'Hawkmoth just needs a friend'. “She threatened my best bud's life!”

“That was an Akuma forged from the pain in a lonely girl's heart.” The old man spoke in hushed yet intense tones. “The real fox is a hero, I assure you.” Nino grumbled under his breath, and the old man sighed. “You must truly care about your friend.”

Nino face softened. “I do! I'm like his only friend. A-and he's been through so much crap, and not just 'cause of Hawkmoth.” He removed his hat and scratched through his bristly hair. “His mom disappeared four years ago, his dad works him to the bone and lets him have, like, no fun even when he has down time, and he's head-over-heels for a superhero he has zero chance with when there's this girl in our class, literally right behind him, who...” He trailed off and blinked. “Why am I telling you all this?”

The old man smiled and stashed the mysterious book in the box. “Perhaps you simply needed to vent to a welcoming ear.” Nino nodded and shrugged, his eyes averted. “Help me carry these books into my shop and I'll continue listening.”

Nino weighed his options. Alya wasn't expecting him for another half hour, and he owed this old man after knocking him over. He nodded again, stacked his backpack on top of the box and hefted it up into his arms. “Woah! This is heavier than it looks. You must have some real guns, old ma...uh, s-sir.”

If he minded being called 'old man', he didn't let it show. “More like muskets at my age,” he joked. “Come, this way.”

It was only a few more meters down the sidewalk before the old man pulled a key ring from his pocket and unlocked the door beneath a sign reading Fu Masseuse. A short hallway lead to three doors, two on the left, one on the right, the latter of which the old man opened and gestured for Nino to enter. Inside was a sparsely decorated room with bamboo flooring and several scrolls covered with what Nino could only assume was Chinese dotting the walls. A thin mattress sat in the center of the floor beside a round table covered in candles and an incense burner. A small bookshelf sat in the far right corner close to a dresser with an old phonograph on top. Nino dropped the box next to this bookshelf, and leaned in to get a closer look at the antique phonograph. Definite Asian influence in the design. Intricate etching in the bell, a pair of dragons on the front, both with ruby eyes, and a flower-patterned inlay around the octagonal base.

“Got anything good on vinyl?”

The old man hobbled up to the young man, a cane now in his hand. “Pavarotti, Maria Callas, an autographed copy of Thriller somewhere, but don't bother. That old thing hasn't worked in over a hundred years.”

“Probably make bank at auction. The copy of Thriller, too.”

“Sentimental value; it belonged to my mentor.” The old man turned his eyes up to Nino. “And I'm not parting with Michael for anything.” He turned back to the thin mattress pad, sat cross-legged upon it, and motioned for Nino to join him. Nino felt like he should kick off his shoes, which he did before sitting down.

“No need for such formalities, Nino. You're a guest here.”

“Sorry, sir, it just felt like I should...” Nino paused and slanted his eyes at his companion. “I...never gave you my name.”

The old man's eyebrows raised, then he sighed, realizing his error. “I must confess something to you. Our meeting this afternoon was no accident. I've had my eyes on you for some time, and the reason as to why is actually related to the book you saw.” Nino's eyes widened. “Ladybug delivered that book to me about two weeks ago, just after she and Chat Noir defeated Volpina. I don't know where she found it, but that tome, the Qíjī Shū it's called, has been lost for centuries. With its reappearance, and Hawkmoth somehow knowing far more about the fox hero than he should, I can only assume it was in his possession.”

“A book full of superhero secrets in the hands of a supervillain? That's heavy.” Nino adjusted his glasses. “But why did LB give the book to you?”

He sat straighter and said, “I am Master Fu, the Great Guardian of the Miraculous. I protect the jewels when they are inactive and choose wielders when fate demands it. She believed it best that I have the book so I may translate the passages.” He slumped again and shook his head. “We don't know if Hawkmoth managed to translate any of the pages, discovered secrets of his own powers, but we must be prepared for the worst, and that is why I have deemed it necessary to pass on the few jewels that remain in my possession.”

Nino blinked. “Uh, what does this have to do with me?”

A grin spread across Master Fu's face. “Is it not obvious, Nino? I wish to pass one of the Miraculous to you.” The DJ's mouth fell agape, but Fu continued before Nino could speak. “This conversation wasn't my original intention, but it seems fate has decided a different course for us. How exciting.”

“N-no way, dude,” Nino stammered. He scrambled to his feet and paced the room. “No. Friggin. Way. There's no way I can be a superhero! I've got too much on my plate as it is! School and friends, DJ gigs, a girlfriend...” He stopped and wrenched his hands together, a blush creeping up on his face. “Well, she's sorta my girlfriend. I-it's nothing official, yet. I mean, it’s official-ish, but...” His eyes flicked back to the smiling Guardian. “Again! Why am I telling you this?”

“You are open and honest,” Master Fu shrugged, “if not a little disorganized and impulsive, which is why I believe the stability and focus of the turtle would suit you well.”

Nino raised an eyebrow at this. “Turtle?”

“Yes, a symbol of protection and wisdom. A passive, defensive hero.” Master Fu struggled to his feet, and Nino scrambled to help him up. Master Fu limped over to Nino's backpack and from it, withdrew a hexagonal black box, the lid etched with red designs similar to those on the phonograph. He smiled and held the box out to Nino. “Your moral compass and desire to protect your friends will make you an excellent hero, despite what you may think.”

Nino looked from the box to Master Fu, then took a breath. “And if I say no?”

“Then we shake hands, part ways, and I choose someone else.” This response surprised Nino, a reaction the Guardian didn't miss. “Fate is far less rigid than people believe. Most perceive fate as railroad tracks, linear and uncompromising, when it is more like a curving mountain path, full of detours and shortcuts that all lead to the same destination.”

Nino glanced down at the box as though to may bite him, apprehension evident in his eyes. Fu sighed and withdrew the box. “The choice is ultimately yours, Nino, but if you decide to embrace the hero you could become, I will make you this promise: should you ever change your mind, you may return the Miraculous to me, and I will accept it without question.”

(#)

Nino couldn't focus while studying with Alya. He couldn't focus while playing his new demo for her. He couldn't focus while some jerk brainwashed a band of blue-skinned aliens to the tune of Harder Better Faster Stronger. Every time he thought he could enjoy her company, the music, or the movie, his mind drifted to the black box in his pocket. Why had he accepted it? Was it the thought of being a hero? Was it the knowledge that he had an easy way out?

No. It was a conversation he'd had with Adrien last week.

“Seriously, dude, do you know who she is?”

“For the last time, Nino, I don't, and even if I did, what would you do?”

“Some crazy fox chick attacks you in your own bedroom and you want me to do nothing?”

“Just drop it, buddy. Akumas can't be held responsible for their actions, and attacking L...an innocent girl wouldn't do any good. There's nothing you can do.”

“You okay, Nin?” Alya asked from her bed. He sat on the floor, his back to her mattress, to her, his right hand scribbling notes, his left rubbing the hexagonal bulge in his jeans. At Alya's question, he tilted his head back and met her upside-down gaze.

“Yeah, just...a lot on my mind.”

“Still hung up on the Volpina thing?”

Nino huffed. “Is it that obvious?”

“I know how you feel, babe.” She rolled over so her head rested beside his. “When Evillustrator,” she paused and her face fell, “still a stupid name by the way, got all stalky, creepy with Marinette, I wanted to get my murder on, just like you do with Volpina. But we have to realize the Akumas are just victims of a middle-aged loser obsessed with magic jewelry.” Nino snorted back a laugh. “We can't hold their actions against them. How would you feel if every adult in Paris demanded your head on a pike?”

“About the same as you if Chloé realized you were the one who revealed her Ladybug cosplay fetish to the city.”

The pair giggled together. Though Alya made it Ladyblog policy to keep Akuma identities as confidential as possible, the two of them were fully aware of each other's 'dark side' and openly mocked them as an inside joke. Tonight, however, Nino's laughter faded quicker than Alya's, and this did not escape her notice.

“Nin, look, I understand Akuma attacks are different when it’s your friends in the crossfire, but since we're not superheroes, as awesome as that would be, we just have to trust Ladybug, Chat Noir, and Queen Bee to do their jobs.” He didn't seem satisfied by her words, and Alya sighed. “If you really want to help out, you can put your amateur director skills to work and get me footage for the blog.”

Nino nodded and smiled, but more to placate her, not because he accepted her advice. She turned over and planted a quick peck on his forehead before they moved back to studying, but Nino's heart wasn't in it anymore. We're not superheroes, she had said. There's nothing you can do, Adrien had said. Nino's left hand tightened around the box in his pocket.

They were both wrong.

(#)

Nino finally left Alya's house just after sunset, making some excuse about helping an old relative with some furniture. He traveled a few blocks away and ducked into an alleyway when he was sure no one was looking. He pulled the box from his pocket, but stopped himself when his fingers brushed the lid. Why did this feel like the point of no return? Master Fu had given him permission to give the Miraculous back if he wanted, so where did this sense of impending doom come from? Why did it feel like the weight of the world was about to fall on his shoulders? Nino shook his head. It was just the responsibility that came with being a superhero. That's all it was.

He flipped open the lid and an orb of green light rose from the box. Nino stood transfixed on the orb, which soon solidified into the strangest creature he'd had ever seen. A small chartreuse...fairy?...with a bulbous head, a tiny shell on its back, stubby flippers instead of limbs, and an antenna on top of its head. It opened its eyes, bright yellow with dots of green in the center, and smiled at Nino.

“It is a pleasure to meet you at last, Master Nino.” Nino had witnessed many oddities since Hawkmoth first reared his ugly head. Hell, he'd even been turned into a girl once, so he shouldn't have been surprised when a small floating turtle popped out of a box and called him 'master.' But he was. He attempted to babble out some form of greeting, but the small fairy ignored the inarticulate muttering. “I am Wayzz, kwami of the Turtle Bracelet. I look forward to working with you.”

“Uh, m-my name's Nino!” He straightened his back. “But you already knew that! Right,” he chuckled and fiddled with his hat, “yeah. Um, I...really don't know what I'm doing or why I agreed to all of this, but...”

“Ah, spontaneous, unfocused, you remind me of Master Fu when he was young.” Wayzz narrowed his eyes and brought a flipper to his chin. “Though I suppose it's just Fu now.”

“Wait, you're Master Fu's, uh, Kumi?”

“Kwami,” Wayzz corrected. “And yes, I was, but in his advanced age, he has decided to retire the mantle of Yù Guī and pass the Turtle Miraculous to you.”

The weight dropped even heavier onto Nino's shoulders. Not only did he have a Miraculous, an opportunity to become a hero, but it was the Guardian's Miraculous. Why did Master Fu trust him with something like this, trust him to be his successor? And why him? Why not someone else? Brave Kim, gentle giant Ivan, intelligent Max...

“Why me?” The question of the hour. “What do I have that makes me a hero? He called me impulsive and disorganized, and you said pretty much the same thing, but then he said the turtle is stable and focused. Why make me a hero when it's clear I don't fit the bill?”

Wayzz chuckled. “If you only knew how many times I have heard that exact question.” The kwami floated up to better look into Nino's eyes. “Miraculous are not granted to those who match their traits, but rather to those who need their traits. This is what allows you to grow and develop, not just as a hero, but as a person. So, Master Nino, what kind of hero will you become?”

Nino looked from Wayzz to the open box still in his hand. Inside sat a green stone oval carved in the likeness of a turtle. Arms, legs, and a head jutted from the sides of the intricately etched carapace. The thin leather strap attached to either end of the oval looked almost too large for his wrist. He lifted the bracelet from the box, surprised by the tingle in his fingers as he touched it, and started to slip it over his left wrist. He thought again, then slipped it over his right hand, thinking to camouflage it with the rest of his bracelets. Just as the jade stone settled on his skin, the leather band contracted, setting it firmly in place. Nino's eyes widened and he brought the bracelet to his face.

“Well, that was freaky,” he muttered. “What now?”

“Simply say 'Shell Up' to transform, and I will walk you through your powers.”

Nino blinked and clenched his fist. This was it. The plunge. He was about to become a superhero. He held up his wrist and squinted. “Shell...Sh-Shell...”

(#)

Nino eased open the door to his home, his head low and his hat sitting awkwardly on his head due to an unexpected passenger. He tried his best to keep quiet, considering he'd taken his time coming home and it was now almost nine o'clock. However, he wasn't quiet enough. Around the corner came Sophia Lahiffe, a bronze skinned woman with wavy brown hair down to the middle of her back, chocolate eyes, and multitudes of jewelry hanging from her ears and neck.

She planted her fists on her hips and shouted, “Imanino Lahiffe! Where in aljahim have you been? No texts, no calls, no anything! Were you out with the Césaire girl again?”

“Mom...”

“Answer me, Nino.”

Nino shifted from foot to foot and rubbed the back of his head. “Well, yeah, I was over at her place studying.”

Sophia raised an eyebrow. “Just studying?”

Nino grimaced and groaned. “Mom, we’re too young to be...having...you know…”

She furrowed her brow, then her eyes widened when realization struck. “No, no! I know you are more responsible than to have sex this young…”

“Mom!”

“I’m more worried about you getting lassoed into her Ladyblug shenanigans.”

“It’s ‘Ladyblog’, and no. I’ve been trying to talk her out of doing crazy, dangerous stuff. We were just studying, okay?”

Sophia looked him up and down, as though trying to find some hole in his story, then huffed and pushed back his hat to kiss him on the forehead. He slapped a hand on top of his head to hold the hat in place. “Hungry, ghaliti?”

“Uh, n-n-no,” he stammered, adjusting his hat. “I ate with Alya. Her mom makes the best chicken piccata ever. But uh,” his eyes drifted to his hat. “I could use a snack before bed. Do we have any carrots?”

A few minutes later, Nino wished his mother goodnight and staggered into his room with no further interrogation. The moment his door closed, he took his hat off and let Wayzz float down to his bed. “Sorry for being so rough, little buddy,” Nino apologized, his hand held out to offer some chopped carrots. “Couldn't let my mom see you.”

Wayzz shook his head and accepted a carrot. “No worries, Master. Kwamis are more durable than you think.”

Nino opened the closet door beside his bed and changed into his pajamas while Wayzz continued to munch on his carrots on the bed. The kwami ran his eyes over the immaculately organized room, marveling at how Nino’s desk at the foot of the bed looked so out of place. Random papers, stacks of CDs, empty energy drink cans. The signs of an artist. Wayzz smiled. Nino was more like Fu than he knew. When Nino finally flopped on his bed and folded his hands behind his head, Wayzz floated up and settled on the pillow next to his head.

“Tired already, Master?”

Nino turned his head to face the kwami. “Why do you keep calling me ‘Master’?”

“Because that is what you are.” Wayzz tilted his head when Nino shifted uncomfortably on the sheets. “Do...you not wish me to?”

“Well...master, servant, it just doesn’t sit well with me.” He raised his right arm over his head and glanced at the bracelet.” Especially since I only just got this thing.” He let his arm drop and sighed. “I'm...sorry I couldn't transform earlier. It feels like everything’s moving too fast.”

“Again, Ma...Nino, no worries. You will come to accept your powers in time. Just sleep, get some rest. Tomorrow is another day.”

(#)

A twinkly jingle emerged from Alya's phone at 7 AM on the dot. The device's vibrations made the little ladybug charm dance on the girl's bedside table. Alya swatted the phone twice before she managed to grasp it and swipe a finger across the screen. The jingle died and she dragged herself out of bed, her face stretched into a yawn. She danced around piles of dirty clothes and found her way to the chair at her computer desk. A jiggle of her mouse awoke the machine and the Ladyblog homepage bloomed across the twin monitors. Alya refreshed the blog pages, and noted that her Glutoneer footage had received a respectable number of hits. She checked the forums, and noted nothing new besides another shipping war between the LadyNoirs and the VolpiNoirs that she needed to shut down.

A new image on the speculation boards caught her eye, and she clicked over to a picture of a yellow and red blur. Alya squinted at the picture. Was that...Queen Bee tackling Ladybug? Some of the commenters believed not all was right and peaceful between the heroes, but Alya brushed it off. While Queen Bee was a little...abrasive, she wasn’t a bad person, and it seemed as though she adored Ladybug. Maybe she could ask Ladybug the next time she agreed to an interview. The scent of sweet nirvana wafting beneath her door interrupted Alya’s thoughts, and she inhaled deeply. Mom was home.

Alya picked out her clothes for the day, black jeans and a violet t-shirt with a pink wifi symbol on it, and made her way out into the family kitchen. A seven-year-old brunette sat on a stool beside the kitchen island, shoveling cereal into her mouth. She had her hair pulled back into pigtails, surprisingly because of Marinette rather than Ladybug, as the young girl became enamored with the hairstyle after she had first met the designer. The girl smiled when Alya entered the room, her little chipmunk cheeks bulging, and turned back to her breakfast. Their mother wasn't in the room, but evidence of her presence sat in the full and steaming coffee pot beside the stove.

“Morning, Cici,” Alya said as she poured herself a cup of coffee and pulled a bottle of creamer from the refrigerator.

Cici swallowed. “Morning, Allie!” She cocked her head to the side when Alya brought the Ladybug mug (Ladymug, Alya thought. I'm hilarious!) to her lips. “What's that black stuff you and Momma drink every morning?”

Alya smiled and lowered her mug. “It's a magic elixir designed to turn zombies back into normal human beings,” she intoned, waggling her fingers for effect.

Cici's eyes became saucers. “You're a zombie?”

Alya shrugged. “We all are, through Mom. Well, technically, we're half-vampire. Ever wonder why she works all night and sleeps all day?”

The look of awe on her sister's face made Alya's morning, especially when their mother walked into the kitchen, still in her chef whites, and poured her own cup of coffee. “Alya, stop telling Cecilia I'm a vampire.” She threw on a Romanian accent and whispered, still loud enough for Cici to hear, “I don't vant her to get suspicious.” She threw her head back, cackled, and passed back out of the kitchen, likely to dress down into her pajamas.

Cici giggled and Alya poured more coffee into a small thermos, paused, then filled another. After talking to Marinette on Discord last night, Alya knew she would need a pick-me-up. More footsteps came into the kitchen and Alya turned to face pixie cut red hair and thick-rimmed glasses around brown eyes. The girl could almost be confused for a younger version of Alya, had their tastes in fashion aligned. While the eldest preferred jeans and button up shirts, her younger sister stuck to skirts with tights underneath and a myriad of t-shirts plastered with various band logos, a good number suggested by Nino as of late.

“Good morning, all,” the thirteen-year-old sang. She eyed Alya's coffee, crossed her arms, and sighed. “What a sad day when youthful exuberance and enthusiasm is replaced with caffeine...” She picked up the creamer and turned the bottle to sneer at the ingredients list. “And artificial flavors.”

Alya snatched the bottle away her sister. “It's these 'artificial flavors' that keep me sane during the day, Chess,” she hissed.

“I'm just saying,” Chess grinned as she retrieved a bottle of almond milk from the fridge. “Would it kill you to go organic?”

“It would kill Mom's wallet,” Alya scoffed. “You know, I give your health food kick another week before you're back to eating garbage like the rest of us mortals.”

“I thought we were vampires,” Cici pouted at Alya.

“We are, Cici. That's why Fran is so skinny,” she teased with the nickname her sister hated. “She can't find any free range, non-GMO pig blood.”

Chess opened her mouth to protest, but their mother barged into the kitchen yet again, this time in white fleece pajama pants and a dark blue tank top, her hair pulled from its bun. “No more arguing. You all need to get,” she planted a kiss on Cici's cheek, “to,” a kiss for Chess, “school.” Alya got the last kiss of the morning and the trio of Césaire's marched of for their school bags and shoes.

“Momma,” Cici started. Her mother looked down with a smile. “If you're a vampire, then what was daddy?”

Marlena's smile faded and an awkward silence fell over the household. Alya shifted from foot to foot and her mother stammered in her search for an answer. The only one seemingly unaffected was Chess, who broke the silence.

“The invisible man, obviously.”

Marlena whirled towards her daughter. “Francesca!”

She threw up her arms. “Hey! Don't get mad at me just because her dad...”

“Our dad,” Alya asserted with a firm hand on her sister's shoulder. Chess looked to Alya, then to their mother, whose frustration was visible in her eyes. “We can talk about this later.”

After a few seconds, Chess relented. The three girls threw their bags over their shoulders and walked out into the cool morning. They stood outside long enough for Cici to hop on the bus to her school, the averted shouting match gone from her thoughts. Chess and Alya waved goodbye, smiles on their faces, however, the moment the bus rounded the corner, the middle sister scowled.

“Don't you think she's old enough to know she's not really our sister?”

“She is our sister, Chess.”

Chess huffed. “We have different fathers!”

Alya jabbed a finger into Chess' face. “I don't care if she's one-hundred-percent adopted.” Alya leaned in. “She. Is. Our. Sister.”

The pair walked towards Francoise-Dupont in silence. A few blocks down, Alya sighed. “Look, I want to tell her the truth as much as you, but Mom said to keep it quiet until she's old enough to understand. I hate lying to her, but making Cici feel like she's not part of the family? I hate that even more.” She met her younger sister's eyes. “She deserves to know the truth, just...not now.” Chess nodded, seeming to accept this answer.

“Pardon me,” came a soft voice from behind them. The girls turned to face a short, older man with a gray receding hairline, a mustache with pointed goatee, and a red Hawaiian shirt covered in white flowers. He hunched over his cane and asked, “I'm sorry to trouble you, but I seem to have left my wallet at home. Could you please spare some change for bus fare?”

Chess shrugged. “I got nothin'. Sorry.” She kept walking while Alya dug through her purse and pockets. She managed to scrape together something for the man and deposited the coins into his waiting hands.

“Thank you so much,” he smiled. “I think it's wonderful that you care so much for your family.” Alya's eyebrow quirked and the old man blushed. “Oh, forgive my eavesdropping.”

“It's no problem,” she chuckled. “I'm the eldest, so I have to look out for them all the time. Cici, the youngest, looks up to me, like I'm her hero.”

A wild glint flashed in his eyes. “And a fine hero I'm sure you make.”

Alya grinned and looked over her shoulder to see Chess almost disappeared into the crowd. “Sorry, gotta go. Gonna be late for school.”

Alya turned and ran after her sister, leaving the old man to stroke his beard and gaze after her. “A fine hero, indeed.”

[mgnemesi]

Fic: Moment Of Peace (MBKVerse)

Ok...I’m trying this. Let’s hope I keep writing. Expect updates to be sporadic, though. I’m also gonna put this on AO3, I think??

Title: Moment Of Peace

Verse: My Brother's Keeper.

Fandom: DCU- Batman.

Rating: PG-13/R-ish.

Genre: This part: introspection, slice of life.

Wordcount: 2631

Characters: Jason Todd and Tim Drake.

Warnings: Old-canon AU.

Summary: The following morning, Tim wakes up alone.

FIRST PART: A Simple Question

PREVIOUS PART: There’s a yellow brick road (that we follow back home)

NEXT PART:

* * * * *

The following morning, Tim wakes up alone. It's only to be expected, considering that he has been waking up alone ever just about every day since the accident; and yet, seeing the empty bed on the other side of the room, corners militarily-made and no trace of Jason whatsoever sends a twinge of disappointment spearing though him.

Ignoring the tightness in his throat, Tim pushes himself out of bed. He is briefly tempted to go and sort those out-of-place books now, but in the end he opts for a detour towards the kitchen. Once inside, he makes a beeline for the coffee-maker, like a fish being reeled in ashore.

That, or a zombie that has smelled brains. He's not quite sure which comparison is the most fitting.

He's already grabbed the pot of coffee (and adding “Coffee Addict” to the “List of Things I Know About Tim Drake”), when he notices the post-it attached to the side.

“Drink me”, the bright square of paper tempts him in sturdy-looking block letters. Scribbled underneath, smaller but still bold, it says: “I promise I'm good. Hopefully still warm, too. A Brazilian blend and unsweetened, which is always a plus with you.”

Tim sniggers a little to himself, feeling the disappointment dissipating inside his chest, just like mist under the first warm rays of sunlight. He hobbles to the cupboard, reaching inside for a mug. He grabs the green one without thinking, and is greeted by a second post-it:

“You'd better eat something with that coffee,” with the word “better” underline twice.

Tim blows the hair out of his face with a little puff, but the look on his face is far from annoyed. He tries to school the giddy little grin into something more appropriate to his status of disgruntled, just woke-up alone, severely-wounded vigilante, but then remembers that he's home alone, and graciously allows the grin to stay where it is.

Pivoting on his heel, he goes back to the coffee-maker, fills his mug to the brim and takes a long sip. He turns toward the fridge, wondering if there's food stacked inside, and whether it's still within date, since they've been away for so long. He notices a third post-it. This time, the message is just a doodled arrow. Tim dutifully moves his eyes in the prescribed direction. A trail of post-it notes leads his eyes across the wall and towards the kitchen table. A cluster of doodled arrows greets him, each  one arranged as to point to a brown bag sitting innocently between a bottle of orange juice and a little pile of napkins on the table.

“Eat me”, invites the post-it attached on top of the bag, and then, added underneath as if as an after-thought: “You know you want to.”

When Tim is done chocking on his laughter and opens it, he finds a final note (“Stop chortling, Alice, it wasn't even that funny.”) and a blueberry muffin that melts on his tongue as if it were made of the same stuff as clouds.

He's sucking the last crumbles from his fingers when he notices a quick scribble on the bottom of the muffin's cup, this time in blue ball-point pen ink. It's short and to the point.

“You're welcome,” it says.

Tim murmurs a soft “thank you” before he's even aware of it.

After breakfast, he's tempted to reacquaint himself with the apartment. Explore around, search the cabinets with the hope to spark a memory, rearrange those books. But he's equally as tempted to prop his ankle on the armrest of the couch and tinker the day away on that laptop he glimpsed the night before. Temptation aside, though, he does nothing for a long, long while. Just glancing through the kitchen door at the living room makes his stomach churn with unease.

This is his house, he supposes. This flat, it's where Timothy Drake used to live. But it's not home. Not now. Not yet. Not to this amnesiac boy sitting helplessly at the kitchen table, with a crumpled muffin-cup sitting in his palm. He doesn’t feel entitled to do anything. Even wondering about this or that secret compartment (and boy, he can see a lot from where he is sitting) makes him feel like he's overstepping his boundaries, doing something forbidden.

Reading is not off-limits.

He thinks.

Hopes.

So he cleans after himself, carefully collects all the post-its (throwing away the arrows and pocketing the scribbled messages), and slips into the living room. He's chagrined to see an imprint of his body on the couch -  the contours of his ass, his back and legs are sketched in big, black strokes of coal dust on the pale fabric. It looks a bit like a Michelangelo sketched with charcoal on parchment. But Renaissance genius he is not; couches aren't canvases to draw upon, and all in all it's not a pretty sight. At all.

He has no idea where the cleaning supplies are, or even if he's up to the physical strain, which means that cleaning it is out of the question. He throws the couch a last guilty look and veers towards the bookshelf. It's brimming with classics. Not that he'd pegged either Jason or himself for the sort to read cheap harlequins, but it's staggering to see several copies of prize-winning novels in several different languages. Which one of them can read fluidly in Arabic, he wonders. And is that Russian?

He's engrossed in page 197 of a pocket-sized copy of Paradise Lost, when Jason comes in.

From the window.

Bright red domino mask on his face, a backpack on his shoulder and a number of bags festooning both his arms.

“Oh. Hi,” he says, voice and face utterly blank. For a loaded, absurd moment, it feels like between the two of them the one who is doing something strange and unusual is Tim. (And now panic settles in. Is he doing something strange? Wasn't he supposed to touch the books? Did he not enjoy reading before the accident?).

Carefully, Tim lowers his foot from the upturned box he'd used to prop it, tucks the book away and clears his throat.

“Uhm. Hi,” he echoes.

Jason is sitting astride the window, one leg inside the apartment, the other outside, looking rather like a strange cowboy. The heel of his boot is tap-tapping a circle on the floor. He keeps looking at Tim as though trying to get the other boy to read into his mind.

“You went shopping?” Tim prompts before the scene gets any stranger, his heart beating a nervous staccato against his ribs.

Jason ducks his head a bit, raises his hand as if he wanted to rub the back of his neck, but the weight of the bags impairs him, so he aborts the motion on the third try. He seems to weight his words very carefully for a long moment; then offers: “Just. Collected some of your stuff from... err... other safe-houses we've got in town.”

Tim leans forward, all eagerness all of a sudden.

“Tell me you've got a toothbrush in there?” he says, voice lilting hopefully at the end, eyes roving hungrily from bag to bag to backpack and then starting anew.

Jason blinks slowly at him, ducks all the way inside, and carefully sets his loot down.

“Why a toothbrush?“ he asks, eyebrows furrowing together. “There is a perfectly fine one in the bathroom. It's even your favourite colour and all.”

“Yes, Jason,” Tim says patiently. “I'm sure there's one toothbrush. But there's two of us.”

Jason snorts, straightening up and running a hand through his windblown hair, messing it all the more.

“No, I meant. There's one for you as well. You didn't even check the cabinet? Christ, for a moment I thought you'd gone and used my toothbrush to clean the toilet seat or some other shit.”

“I wouldn't do that!” Tim protests, wavering between amusement and horror. Jason folds his arms across his chest and quirks a challenging eyebrow at him. Tim drops his face in his palms, but his shoulders are shaking with repressed laughter when he says: “I totally would, wouldn't I?”

“Your words, not mine,” Jason answers, raising his hands and looking the perfect picture of innocence.

Tim snorts, gets an eyebrow-wiggle in return and retaliates with an eyeroll.

“So, if not a toothbrush, what did you get?”

“Well,” Jason looks down at the bags, eyebrows furrowed in thought. “Bandages and medicines, some weapons, gadgets. A few changes of clothes.” He lists. “I also got some food. Soap. CDs – all work related, though. Some stuff we can use to go undercover, uniforms and  the likes. I—I got you a laptop. Not yours, but. I got it at a thrift shop And... and a couple books, too. Some folders and shit on the last case you were working on.” He's massaging his fingers as if they ached. There are burned marks on his gloves, and dark smears across his shirt. When he notices Tim staring, Jason says: “Got troubles with the alarm system,” and leaves it at that.

Tim nods dubiously, not quite believing that Jason would have to resort to force the security of one of their own safe-houses, but doesn't ask. Jason probably ran into trouble on the way and just doesn't want Tim to worry. Tim doesn't like and doesn't need to be babied, but if Jason doesn't want to share, Tim can respect his need for silence.

For the time being, at least.

“Is that food I smell?” he asks, instead of pressing about the alarm system.

“I grabbed some take out on my way,” Jason answers, looking smug. “You hungry?”

It's a tricky question, and it shouldn't be. Tim takes careful stock of his body – he is aware he hasn't eaten in hours, and yet, he doesn't feel the pangs of hunger. He's also aware that this lack of appetite is not normal. All things considered – that he's wounded and in need of energy to recover, that he hasn't eaten properly in weeks – he should be famished. But he's not. Hunger is like an afterthought tucked like a secret far, far away in the back of his mind, a bad puppy that's been locked inside a closet in the farthest wing of the house. No one can hear it whine. No one will take it out.

Tim's eyebrows dip together into a frown, but it's not a lie when he says: “I could eat,” because he's been trained like that, to ignore his body needs, but also to force himself to satisfy them when the situation allows.

Jason frowns right back at him.

“We're gonna burn this food aversion right out of you,” he warns. He rips off the mask – literally rips off, rather than just peel it away like a sane person would. Doesn't he feel the pain? Doesn't he care?– grabs one of the bags and goes to Tim. They sit on opposite ends of the couch, the bag balanced between them, exuding strange and wonderful smells.

Tim peeks inside, and is genuinely taken aback when he doesn't see cheap fast food containers, soda bottles and a spill of greasy fries filling all the empty spaces in-between.

“What's this?” he asks, poking at one aluminium container. It's not burgers and chilidogs, it definitely is not pizza, and it's not a carton of Asian food either. What the—-?

Jason shrugs, reaches inside the bag, and takes out two container as if they were holy relics.

“Eggplant Parmesan” he says, taking the lids off both containers. He weights them in each hand, then hands over to Tim the biggest portion. “The good stuff,” he adds, as if Tim couldn't tell that by smell alone. His stomach went from being into knots to roaring with hunger in 0.12 seconds sharp. The smell is so good.

“Wha—is—I mean--Parmesan?” Tim asks, flabbergast, after the first mouthful. Oh, dear. And he thought he wasn't famished? This – whatever it is – is melting in his mouth like – like – like – he has no term of comparisons, sadly. He quickly shovels in his mouth another forkful or seven of steaming heaven, waiting for Jason to answer.

“Italian recipe. The original one,” Jason stresses, waving his plastic fork menacingly. “Nothing of that boiled-eggs-in-the-stuffing crap. This is fried eggplant, homemade sauce and a shit-ton of cheese.”

Tim blinks, fork balanced before his open mouth.

“We – are we of Italian origins?” he asks.

Jason is silent for a long moment. “The old house was in the Italian ghetto,” he says at long last, as careful as if he were weighting each word. “Which explains why the old man got involved with Two-Face in the first place. A contract with the mafia lead to more contracts and then bam! Prison for life.” Tim makes a non-committal noise, wondering if Jason remembers that he has no idea whatsoever who Two-Face is.

Jason must've noticed something in his face, because his eyes flicker up and away. He wraps his tongue around the fork and sucks it clean, the motion somewhat pensive.

“Bottom line is-” he pauses, licking his teeth; then seems to give much too stress to the following pronoun - “ I grew up eating this stuff.”  He angrily scraps some sauce from the bottom of the container – fuck, is it finished already? - but then his eyes go a bit wistful. “We didn't always have enough money. But mum always insisted I eat much, and that I eat well. Not that you'd hear me complain. She used to be the best cook outta the whole block. And for a while there, I thought that if I ate big I'd grow big and strong and be able to take care of her the way she took care of... me.”

His voice grows faint on the last word, and he has to force himself back on track with visible effort.

“As for being Italian... well. Maybe? I don't know the numbers, but the old man was at least part Italian and part Greek, and his Grandfather was Jew. There was from Irish blood from mom's side. Plus, I think she'd got some Arabic blood. Funny story, once I asked the Demon brat if he thought we might have a common grand-grand-something, and he sorta went ballistic. You should've heard the pitch his voice reached. I thought he was gonna shatter all the glass in the house.”

Tim makes another wondering noise, and Jason waves his fork once more, this time dismissively.

“Long story. One you'd rather not remember, I bet.”

“Is this Demon brat someone I don't like?” Tim asks, chasing with his tongue a runaway drop of sauce that's trailing down the inside of his wrist.

“Is the sky blue, Baby B?” is Jason's reply. To which Tim, being Tim, answers:

“Most of the time, though the exact hue changes with the time and the condition of the weather, shifting between basically all the colours of the spectrum.”

The eyeroll he was expecting, the fork aimed at his forehead he evades with his ninja reflexes, but the cap of the Parmesan container gets him square in the nose, splattering sauce across his cheeks and eyebrows.

The World War III that follows sends sauce stains all over the carpet, the couch, their clothes, and even the walls. A fork gets stuck in the chandelier of all places, and by the time they call a truce (they're both too proud to give in), Tim is in dire need of a shower.