#oh ! and to all the other people who submitted their mind designs I’m warning you now

[psilliguykai]

“Ain’t no cemetery you can’t shed

[Oh no]!”

First Mind design drawing complete !! This is @hhoneycloves Lifetime Achievement Award Mind.

I know it was a bonus design but I’ve been thinking about this line and HMS a lot and basically. Got carried away lol.

I might draw some of the others you submitted later since I do really love your AUs and designs so much [they’re all soso cool and gorgeous it’s insane!! Tysm for handing over Your Guys :D]

I won’t lie there isn’t much meaning behind this, mostly as I’m not too familiar with the actual contents of the AU. Just thought it would look cool :3

Lines from Lemon Demon’s song Lifetime Achievement Award - super fun song, go check it out if you can :]

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Invisible hero - Part 1

Oh yes, you're seeing this right...this is art by @mysandwichranaway for this stupid first part of a potentially smutty fic :D

And their commissions are open too, so treat yourself to a work of art, why won't you? 💖💖💖

Words : 3 k

Characters : Ori x OC

Warnings: nudity and disability

“Hey you,” a severe, loud voice called out, “dwarf girl, come here!”

Ori turned around – surprised – for, even though he was not a girl, he was definitely the only dwarf around to be hailed thus.

“Yes?” he asked in a gentle tone, turning to face the old man with the ruddy face and the rude voice, “How can I help you, Sir?”

The man stared him up and down for a few seconds; he had seen this strange, mild-mannered creature around for a long time and he was almost certain that she would not mind making a few coins.

Dwarves as a rule were known for their greed after all.

“Can you come to my house and keep my daughter company until I return tomorrow evening?” he asked, observing the dwarf’s reaction closely; he had read somewhere that they were devoid of sexual hunger or even genitals – he couldn’t quite recall – and as such this strange being would be a better minder than every other person he knew.

Ila, his beloved daughter, was a precious girl who – most of the time – could handle herself quite well on her own, but he didn’t like leaving her in the house all by herself all the same; in fact, after a severe bout of illness when she had been but a very small child, his only living progeny was mostly blind, and he worried about her constantly.

“Sir?” Ori gulped; he was not familiar with women – least of all those of Men – and he didn’t exactly relish in the idea of making a fool of himself, “Why would you ask me of all people?”

“Do you intend to molest my daughter?” the man asked very clearly and – immediately – Ori flushed an angry red as he denied having any sinister designs on a maiden he had never met.

“You are an honourable lot,” the man conceded, shamed and reassured by the resolute but polite denial, “and she gets on just fine on her own; I’d just feel better if I knew that there was someone around in case she needs something.”

And just to make himself perfectly clear, he took out a heavy pouch and made the coins inside it jangle.

“You shall be handsomely rewarded for your time,” he promised, “and Ila is a very sweet girl.”

For a moment, he paused before informing the rosy-cheeked stranger of his daughter’s condition.

“Oh,” Ori mumbled, his heart swelling with empathy, “of course, it would be my honour to be at the young lady’s disposal.”

“Good, for I must leave as soon as I can,” the man sighed a big breath of relief and nodded at a small house nestled within the forest surrounding the village, “you’ll find her there. I’ve told her that I’d get her someone to mind her.”

And with those words, he tossed the pouch at Ori and tipped his hat before all but jumping onto his horse and riding away at a break-neck-speed.

“Mistress?” Ori called, cursing himself for being a damn fool only a moment later though; what had he expected? For a blind woman to come running down the stairs to welcome a complete stranger?

“Your father sends me,” he went on, listening intently for any response.

“I’m up here,” a feminine voice drifted down as softly as falling snow, “second door to the right…come up!”

He did as he was told, holding onto the pouch of coins to submit it to the woman’s inspection as a means of proving that he really was who he claimed to be.

As soon as he pushed open the door though, his mouth went dry and the bag full of jangling money was instantly forgotten, no matter how heavily it weighed in his trembling hand.

He was standing in a bathroom and– judging by the steaming water in the big tub – someone was about to take a bath indeed.

A paper partition stood in one corner and – hearing that someone was coming – the person behind it had lit a single candle, creating a shadow-theatre that took his breath away.

The enchantingly elegant silhouette disrobing slowly and meticulously seemed painted onto the thin wall in black ink, flowing and vibrating in ways he had never managed to capture in his own drawings.

“I’ll be right with you,” the same soft, melodic voice resounded, and Ori saw her fingers curl around the edge of the partition as she positioned herself in the room.

The woman – wearing nothing but a thin, translucent tunic – stepping out like a vision born of the mind of some force far greater than his own was young and frighteningly fragile-looking with her sightless, slightly vague gaze and her pristine skin.

Without paying him any immediate heed or displaying the slightest hint of discomfort or fear, she moved around the room lighting more candles.

“I…” he started, unsure what to say to her, “your father has hailed me in the street to be of assistance.”

“Hmmm,” she hummed with a soft, mocking smile, “he worries too much. Who are you then, dear minder? I don’t know if my father has informed you, but I cannot see you.”

“He said so,” Ori admitted, “and my name is Ori.”

“That is an interesting name,” the young woman said, her fingers dancing in the air until she had found the edge of the bathtub and sat down on it, “where are you from?”

“I am from here,” he replied obediently, “but…I am a dwarf.”

“Really?” she sat up straighter, “My name is Ila by the way, and I have never met a dwarf before. I haven’t met many people anyway, but certainly never a dwarf.”

“Yes,” Ori answered indecisively; he was not sure if being a dwarf was a good or a bad thing, “we are not a dangerous people, rest assured.”

Ila seemed to ponder his words for a few seconds and then chuckled under her breath.

“Very well, Ori the dwarf,” she said, lifting the tunic over her head and dropping it with the precision of habit into a waiting basket, “tell me more about yourself then.”

“What do you want to know?” he asked, still standing in the middle of the room, and waiting for her to need any kind of help.

The way she lifted first one leg and then the other over the rim of the tub and into the water pointed to the very opposite though; she seemed perfectly capable of navigating her own home and life without any assistance which turned his presence at this vulnerable and intimate moment into a shocking intrusion and transgression.

“Come closer,” she beckoned when she realised that he had not followed her to the far end of the room, “I will not harm you either.”

Ori wanted to tell her that it was common decency that kept him rooted to the ground and that he was not a skittish fairy tale creature, but – if he was honest – the sight of her fragile, naked body made him feel like he was just that.

When he still hadn’t moved or said anything after another few moments, Ila turned around in the tub and waved into the empty room.

“Join me, Ori the dwarf, there is enough room for the both of us. You have – I surmise – seen me undressed already and I shall never know any of the physical secrets of your race,” she grinned; she had spent years being bitter and railing against her bad luck, nowadays, she tried to take her undeniable condition with as much humour and verve as she could.

“I could not, Mistress,” Ori replied, horrified by the idea of taking off his clothes in front of a total stranger… but then again, she was right; she would not see him.

A warm bath and the prospect of looking – shamelessly – into that beautiful, wistful face of hers while the heat unravelled the knots of fatigue and worry in his back were tempting him sorely and – after a good, long moment of struggling against his baser instincts – Ori gave in and started undressing.

“What made you agree to my father’s – no doubt very haphazard – petition?” Ila asked, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, “I trust he rewarded you handsomely?”

“Yes,” Ori felt suddenly ashamed of the bag heavy with coins balanced on the tidy pile of his discarded clothes, “but I would have come to help a maiden either way.”

At least, he hoped that he would have; it would have been disingenuous to pretend that this money was not very welcome. Dori worked his hands down to the bones to support the family and if spending a bit of time with a truly delightful creature would alleviate that burden, who was Ori to refuse?

Ila chuckled at that before a pensive expression flitted over her face.

“What is it?” Ori asked, not even embarrassed about betraying that he had been staring at her by calling out the very minute change in her demeanour.

“I said I didn’t see you,” Ila mumbled, licking her lips, “and I wondered if you’d let me…”

“See me?” Ori cocked his head in confusion which went completely unnoticed by the woman facing him in expectant silence.

“Sure,” he finally agreed, flinching when she surged forward only to stop mere inches away from him.

“My hands are wet,” she explained with a short peal of laughter, “and I…I am a little nervous. Tell me, what do you look like? To yourself?”

Ori swallowed nervously and hummed for a few seconds, unsure how to describe himself to her.

“Have you always been blind?” he asked instead, biting his tongue as he realised how monumentally insulting and careless that question had been.

“No,” Ila replied softly, “but I hardly remember anything from before, it’s been a long time.”

“Well, I am…short,” Ori started with a little awkward chortle of his own, “and – though rather puny for my own race – I guess broader and stockier than your males.”

His words died in his throat when her hands, warm and still slightly moist, came to rest on his cheeks before moving carefully over his features.

“Go on,” Ila prompted him while her fingertips traced the arc of his brows and the outline of his lips thoughtfully, “are you terribly handsome?”

“Oh no,” this time, Ori laughed heartily, “no, I am not. My brother Nori is quite the looker to some of the ladies in town, but no, there are much better-looking dwarves around – according to dwarven beauty standards as well as yours – and I am but a small ginger.”

“What is that?” Ila lifted her face and for a moment, it felt as if she could see him.

“My hair is…kind of reddish? Orange? Copper?” Ori tried to find something she might remember, “if the afternoon sun on your skin was a colour, it would be that one.”

“Well, Ori,” Ila grinned, “you sound quite gorgeous to me.”

A heat that was unrelated to the water sloshing around them rose into her cheeks as she went on to confess that she quite enjoyed her tactile discovery.

“You have a face to be touched,” she said simply, leaning back slightly.

“I do not think that this was what your father had had in mind,” Ori sighed; already, he regretted having lost the surprisingly thorough but gentle caresses.

“Ori?” Ila bit her lip nervously, “My father is of the opinion that dwarves have no gender.”

“Oh Mahal,” Ori paled at the realisation that – of course – this man had not consciously and wilfully chosen a male to look after his vulnerable daughter; he had simply not known that there was such a thing.

“He’s wrong,” Ila smirked, “but I was too curious to see if he’d find one to correct him.”

“Curious, yes?” Ori found himself greatly amused by this stranger who sat – naked and entirely comfortable with herself – in her bathtub and talked to him as if they were having formal tea in the throne room.

“Immensely,” Ila nodded, “I am almost not sorry at all to have led my father astray in such a shameless manner.”

“Mistress,” Ori shilly-shallied, “I find that I must tell you…that not only is your father woefully wrong, but he has also employed a male dwarf to look after you.”

“Would you imagine that,” Ila simply grinned and leaned back further until she was resting against her side of the bathtub again, the water dissimulating most of the appealing mounds of tender flesh Ori purposefully tried to avoid looking at.

Instead, he told her about Thorin II – called ‘Oakenshield’ by his people – and his own brothers; as the minutes diluted in the water growing ever colder, he explained the importance of hair and beard, his dislike of vegetables, and the various skills of his people to the captive audience of one.

Ila had an expressive face, and she gave small gasps and smart comments that made Ori talk more than he usually would have.

“Oh, Mistress,” he suddenly interrupted himself, “you must be cold by now.”

Ila shivered slightly indeed, but she was unwilling to leave the tub as his warm words were enough to keep the clammy cold at bay.

“May I assist you with anything?” Ori asked, “To earn my keep so to say?”

He eyed the fragrant piece of soap sitting beside her right hand and wondered if he should offer to wash her back or something or if that would be indecent.

As if she could read his mind, Ila handed him said soap and turned her back to him.

“Are you not allowed to touch other people’s hair either? Or are others just not allowed to touch yours?” she asked, thankful that she had not given in to the temptation to do just that before she had known how much it might have discomfited him.

“It would be my honour,” Ori whispered and shivered when she sank trustingly back until her head rested in his open palms.

It was a strange feeling, he had to admit, to look down on that serene face while feeling her hair drift like silken caresses in the water, tangling around his fingers.

More peculiar still was it to work the lather into her hair, his fingertips scraping along her scalp and the air heavy with a smell of lavender and violets; Ila made small, purring sounds that seemed to resonate within him, making fibres deep within his soul thrum with an anticipation that was almost uncomfortable as he didn’t know what he was breathlessly waiting for.

“So, what do you do when you don’t wash ladies’ hair?” Ila asked casually as Ori rinsed the suds out with tender precision.

“I am a scribe…and you?” Once again, he wondered if he had said the wrong thing.

“I am here,” Ila replied slowly, “but sometimes, I am called to go down into the mines. You must understand that I have a keen sense of smell and no need of a candle; hence why they send me whenever they suspect a leak of some poisonous or flammable gas.”

“That’s awful,” Ori cried out.

“I am useful,” Ila contradicted firmly, “that feels nice.”

“Do you like the mines?” Ori asked, while she was getting out of the tub to grab a surprisingly soft towel from a stack and handing it over to him – sitting still naked and wet in the huge contraption – with slightly trembling fingers.

“I do not mindthem,” Ila replied with another sunny smile that made Ori regret the fact that she’d never see how beautiful she really was; did it even matter to her? Was he being silly?

“When we reclaim Erebor,” Ori found himself saying, “I’ll invite you to come visit. We dwarves have a lot of dark mines.”

“So I’ve heard,” Ila nodded; often, she had dreamed of the underground world where she might have felt less lost and different; the idea of running her fingers along the cool walls and discovering secrets flourishing in the darkness had always appealed to her.

“We don’t have excessively good vision either,” Ori mumbled, “yes, if you are really that curious about us, I’m sure you could come and meet my brothers.”

Ila’s mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Truly?” she asked in a small voice that betrayed a hope so fragile it broke Ori’s heart.

“Sure,” he asserted, “why not? We are a weird-looking race to most, but I begin to suspect that you might think differently about that.”

“You have a lovely voice,” Ila nodded, “and – as I said – a good face to be touched.”

“What do you mean by that?” Ori was curious and almost forgot that she was blind as she moved – still only covered by the towel – from the bathroom into another chamber confidently while he felt as if his feet were too big and cumbersome as he scrambled after her clumsily.

“No need to waste a candle for me,” Ori informed her as she took out a dusty old candleholder, “the light of the moon is quite sufficient.”

No curtains, he noticed, no tapers; Ila lived in a world of her own and he was weirdly entranced by it.

Sitting down on her bed, Ila explained that his strong features were beautifully expressive to her; in a world of insipid, flat, meaningless faces, his felt bold and so much more present.

His clothes bundled in his arms, Ori just stood and stared at this strange, little woman who looked like a statue made of gold and silver in the pale light falling into the room like a white rain.

“Do you intend to stay the night, Ori the dwarf?” she asked with a cheeky smile, patting the space just beside her as she held out a fine comb to him.

So, there might be a second part to be had in this :D

I hope you've enjoyed this ❤

-> Part 2 -> Part 3

Taglist:

@blairsanne

@narniaandthenorth

@fizzyxcustard

@laurfilijames

@myselfandfantasy

@legolasbadass

@linasofia

@lathalea

@midearthwritings

@clumsy-wonderland

@fckmini

[bubblyhoney]

win for me

warnings: lAnGuAgE, alcohol consumption (both reader and all other characters are of age to drink), marijuana use, Making Out™️, a miniscule Flowers from 1970 reference. PSA: WHEN UR INTOXICATED AND/OR AT A PARTY, TELL UR FRIENDS WHO YOU WILL BE WITH AND WHERE YOU WILL BE AT ALL TIMES. DRINK AND PARTY SAFELY!

tags: sapnap x fem!reader

summary: a collection of moments throughout the beginning of your relationship

words: 5000

A/N: even though this isn’t my most organized or perfect fic this was so incredibly fun to write. and it’s a college!au!! one of my favs. hope you guys like!! let's pretend the pandemic doesn't exist for this one too (please wear ur masks btw)

-

Sophomore Year:

Smells like shit in here is your first thought upon entering the laundromat.

It does, in all honesty. What would you expect a place where college students wash three months of dirty clothes and comforters with vomit to smell like? Urine and just a hint of marijuana, incidentally. The door closes noisily behind you and a guy in a black baseball hat turns his head at the noise. Half of his face is hidden underneath the shadow of his scruff and he says nothing, but you still offer an obligatory polite-stranger smile. The place is pretty deserted, what for it being nearly 4 in the morning. And you’re a rare kind of customer; only a few things to wash and you brought your own detergent.

There’s an empty washer next to an old woman in an acid-trip of a parka, and you sweep past the few other patrons with your mesh bag close. The man in the hat nods at you as you pass, looking up from his phone.

Okay. Dark load in one and delicates in the other, you remind yourself. The quarters get pushed through the slot (not without dropping three and having to scramble to pick them up before they disappear between the machines) and you fill the dispensers with a flowery laundry detergent your roommates hates. Oh, and the clothes go in. Done. You relax into a cracked plastic booth around the corner of the machine, pulling a book of crosswords from your bag.

Somebody yelps halfway through filling out a five letter word (“a series of thoughts, images, and sensations occurring in a person's mind during sleep”) and you jump. Baseball Cap rips open the dryer, fumbling around and supplying a pair of gray sweatpants. You can’t help but watch. He digs through both front pockets, pulling out a wad of dollar bills. He sighs, shoves the pants back into the dryer, and starts it with a hard push.

“Gut feeling?” You ask. He looks around for a second and settles his gaze upon you. Nice eyebrows, you think.

“Yeah,” he laughs, slightly nervous. “Yeah. I wore them yesterday and just remembered I put some tip money in my pocket.” Leaning back onto the shelf behind him, he shoves his phone into his pocket and folds his arms tight to his chest.

“I feel you,” you empathize, and set down your pencil. “I washed a parking ticket with my underwear last week.”

He stutters out a laugh, nodding.

“That must’ve sucked,” he adds.

“Yeah.” You shrug. “I wasn’t going to pay it anyways, but would’ve been nice to keep it for memory’s sake.” Rubbing at your knee offhandedly, you just watch him. He’s cute. And easy to make conversation with.

“Hey, um,” he mutters and clears his throat. “Do you by chance know some guy named Karl? Tall, messy brown hair and a horrible laugh?”

You open your mouth, then close it.

“Actually—,” you start but huff out a laugh. “Yeah, he’s uh, he’s dating my roommate. Why’d you ask?”

Reaching a hand to rub at his neck, his face twists into something sheepish.

“I’ve seen you at some parties this semester. I didn’t mean to sound creepy like that— I just—yeah.” His cheeks flush pink and he looks down to the ground.

“No worries,” you say, barely even thinking. “I think I’ve seen you too. You’re in Delta Tau Delta, right?”

“Nah, nah,” he laughs. “Just got some friends in there.”

“Ah.” You nod.

The conversation falls into silence, but not uncomfortable silence. He pulls out his phone again, and you look back to the crossword in front of you. The old woman between you leaves with a humongous load of blankets and a small family leaves with a cart full of bags; now it’s just you two.

When the washer with your delicates ding you nearly jump two feet in the air. Exhaling, you set your work down and open the door.

“Shit,” you curse as two bras fall onto the tile. You reach down to get a hand on a black lace bra and hide it quickly under your elbow. A sneaker squeaks loud in the almost-empty room and you see Baseball Cap’s shoulders.

“Here.” He’s kneeling as he hands you your pink bra and you accept it, biting your lower lip.

“Thanks,” you mumbles, slightly embarrassed, and step back to shove those bras and a couple pairs of your underwear into your bag. He offers you a small smile and backs off to his own machines, humming an off-key version of Unchained Melody to himself. Your other load of laundry gets shoved right on top of your delicates.

It’s when you’re nearly out the door, bell jingling, that you think to look back.

“Hey,” you start, almost stuttering for no reason. “What’s your name?”

He turns, dark eyebrows raised.

“My—uh… My friends call me Sapnap. You can call me that too.” Rosy cheeks once again; you seem to be making him awfully nervous.

“Sapnap.” You try it in your mouth, pursing your lips. “Okay. I’ll see you around Sapnap.”

He nods, affirming your statement.

“See you around Y/N.”

It doesn’t hit you until you’re buckling your seatbelt and starting your car that you realize you didn’t tell him your name.

Perhaps he knew more about you than you thought.

Yeah, you laugh to yourself. Karl’s got a big mouth.

Junior Year:

It takes you a collective twelve minutes to go talk to him.

It’s quiet in the library, students that happen to come here to study or procrastinate few and far between the scattered tables. Your poison today is a 4 page history paper on Normandy that you’d been staring at the instructions for for days. You’d already written a bunch of, frankly, horseshit for the body, but the introduction and conclusion were throwing you for a loop.

The vibes in Ridgeback Hall were also certainly off, today more than any other day; the main help-desk was empty and everybody had to do the tedious task of locating niche textbooks themselves.

Lifting your head from the wood of the table, you squint and focus your vision on the guy in the white tee and denim jacket that had been the focus of your thoughts for minutes. He chews at the end of his pencil, mouth screwed up into a ball, and shoots daggers at the empty notebook in front of him. You’re surprised it hasn’t caught on fire yet just from his gaze.

“Sapnap!” You whisper-shout, stretching your arms across the table as if it would make him any closer. A person with purple hair jumps at your voice but turns back to their laptop. “Sapnap!” you try again, tapping two fingers on the table. His head jerks up, eyebrows furrowed and an angry expression on his face, but softens at the sight of you.

“Y/N,” he counters, equally as loud but with a smile on his face.

“What’re you doing?”

“Calculus.” He sticks his tongue out, making an awfully tortured face. You laugh and wave your fingers at him, gesturing for him to come closer. He just huffs out a sigh, stacks all his papers in one pile, and gets up. The trek over to your table is short but he takes it so slowly you wonder if he always walks like that. Like a varsity basketball player who just got off a horse.

“You’re so slow.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles and settles into a chair across from you. “It’s 2 pm, give me a break. I need a Redbull.”

“Those are bad for you, you know,” you say matter-of-factly and drop your chin onto your hand. He’s even cuter from this angle, you think briefly. He just rolls his eyes.

“Whatever, Miss I’d-like-some-coffee-with-my-sugar-and-cream,” he teases, pointing to your venti iced coffee. It’s about as pale as the color of a band-aid. You just sigh and close your eyes. “You tired?” He flips his pencil in his hand and leans back into the seat, sighing.

“Yeah,” you mumble. “I haven’t slept yet today.”

“Wow, you’re dumb.” He looks scandalized. You just shrug.

“Perhaps. I don’t really know why I did it actually— just for funzies!” You raise an arm but let it drop back down. “I stayed up playing Sims.”

“Feel that. I play Minecraft with my buddies until like 2 am every night too. It’s nice,” he decides and folds his arms across his chest. Your eyes flit over to his strong arms, admiring the way his denim shirt looks around them. Thick.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“What?” He says too loudly and it warrants a ‘shush’ from another student. He reddens, but looks back down to you. “I—why do you ask?” You shrug, eyebrows raised.

“Just wondering. You’re too cute to not have one.”

“Right,” he huffs, but his cheeks stay pink. You two fall into easy silence, his eyes trained on the notebook in front of him and yours closed peacefully. “Are you dating anyone?”

They snap open not-so-peacefully.

“Nope. You wanna submit a boyfriend application?” A smile cracks your lips and he grins back.

“Maybe,” he replies and stares at your mouth. “I have to say—,” He stretches into a yawn. “I think I’m qualified.”

“Oh, yeah?” Your eyebrow quirks. “And why are you so qualified?”

“Well, first of all, I work at Ace Hardware. That’s where cool people work.” He presses one finger into his palm. Then two. “And I have a bunch of free time because said job at Ace Hardware only likes scheduling me in the mornings. Plus, I’m hot.” He shrugs.

You nod faux-seriously, considering his list.

“Those are very good qualities, sir. I’ll have to get back to you on that.” You pause. “Okay, I’ll schedule an interview. How’s 7 pm at the Chili’s on Main? Chili’s is the designated interview place.” You wiggle your eyebrows. He just smiles at you, shaking his head in disbelief.

“That was smooth.”

“Yeah, I know.” You carefully study your nails. “I’m pretty impressive.”

“Clearly,” he mutters and chuckles. “But I do like their salsa. And margaritas. We got a deal?” He holds out a large hand. You take it, squeezing tightly.

“Hell yes.”

When you see the man called Sapnap a week later, you are very obviously in a different state of mind.

Same state, same college town, but very different blood alcohol contents.

“Sappy!” You shout, raising your arms above your head with a stupid grin on your face. He turns, that familiar look of surprise evident in his expression.

“Y/N,” he laughs and approaches your group of friends in the kitchen. It’s Greek Wedding night at Delta Tau Delta, and you assume Sapnap came to support Delta’s “groom” Alex. You’d gotten uncharacteristically drunk, trading air for sangria, and you were now in the incredible stage where everyone was both your friend and your favorite person.

Throwing an arm around his shoulders, you mash your face into his bicep and giggle.

“Missed you so much,” you try to manage out of your mouth, but it comes out slurred and stuttered. “So much.” You’d gone to Chili’s two days before and promised another ‘interview’ in the next few days, but it felt like two months away from your beloved. Beloved friend, that is. Only one date.

“Yeah?” He places a hesitant hand on your back and nudges you into a standing position. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Oh, shhhh,” you mumble and close your eyes. “Only— a lot.” Blinking them back open, you zero your gaze in on a bottle of Ciroc half-empty and looking very tempting on the kitchen island across from where you’re leaned up against the kitchen sink. He catches your gaze and steps in front of you, pleasant face filling your vision. You gasp.

“You are so cute.” Sliding your palms up onto his face, you hold his scruffy cheeks in your hands and smile all dopey at him.

“Is that your brain or the alcohol telling you that?”

“Uh,” you swallow. “Both. And my heart.”

He just shakes his head and his chest moves with a heavy laugh.

“Glad to hear it.”

“Are you having fun?” You ask, all concerned and furrowed eyebrows. You look like you’re genuinely interested and worried about if he’s having a good time or not, and it makes his expression melt.

“I’m having lots of fun,” he passes over his shoulder as he flips on the tap and fills a red solo cup with water. “In fact, I’m gonna have a nice, cold glass of water right now.” He shakes it like an owner offering their dog a treat.

You eye the cup in his hand, having half a thought that this might be some sort of backwards psychology move. The other half wins.

“That sounds so good right now— can I drink some?” Your eyebrows pull together and your bottom lip drops into a pout. It makes him blink for a second. He remembers the little game you’re playing and just hands it over, smug. You gulp it down quickly and crush the empty plastic into your palm with an exaggerated exhale. “Hit the spot,” you sigh, and pat your stomach fondly.

“You hungry?” Sapnap asks you as he steadies you with two hands on your shoulders. Something pops into your head at his words: a set of two McChickens and an Oreo milkshake.

“Oh my God,” you gasp, and mirror him by placing your hands on his shoulders. “Can we go to McDonald’s?”

He just shakes his head, grin wide on his lips, and shrugs. Perfect teeth, you think.

“I haven’t drank anything, so I’m good to drive.” He pulls his keys from his pocket. “I know you’re smashed right now so—do you feel safe with me?” The question falls from his mouth and you truly consider it, pulling your lip between your teeth.

“Yeah. I’ll take this just in case,” you say, and take a large dinner fork from the counter next to you. It has some red liquid on it that you brush off onto the fabric of your jeans.

“That’s actually gross.”

“Yeah.” You grip it tighter in your head. “But it’ll do the job if you try any shit. I’ll put this in your eyeball.” Brandishing it, a smile stretches onto your mouth. He just shakes his head and heads for the back door, jerking a hand in your direction to get you to follow him.

The cool night air explodes on your face when you step onto the porch and it makes you blink rapidly. Sapnap is right at your side, offering a forearm as you slowly make your way down the two back porch steps. A tall blonde smoking half of a blunt makes a grunt noise as you two pass and your knight-in-shining armor looks up.

“Gonna go get some food. Want anything?” Sapnap stops on the rocky path to the sidewalk, tilted up to hear the blonde’s response. The other guy shakes his head but nods to you in passing.

“I’ll tell her friends where she went,” says the blonde, and disappears through the sliding glass doors.

Your hand falls from his forearm to his hand and grasps it tightly, swinging back and forth as you stumble to his car. You flash him a grin that he just chuckles at.

“Watch your step,” he warns as you yank on the handle of the passenger door and nearly fall off of the curb.

“I’m fine,” you huff, and scramble to get yourself upright into the seat and buckled. He closes your door and jogs to the driver’s seat, climbing in and starting the engine quicker than your head comprehends.

The small space fills with the sound of Letters to Cleo as he’s maneuvering out of his parking spot and he slaps a hand at the stereo button almost immediately. His cheeks redden as he glances at you once.

“I love Letters to Cleo,” you admit, and switch it back on. Ah, Co-Pilot. A classic. “Be my co-pilot!” You sing, loud and sharp. He shakes his head but huffs out a reluctant laugh.

“My older sister loved them. Bit old for my taste, but—you know. Can’t deny that I love a little bit of 90’s angst.”

“Absolutely,” you nod vigorously and pick at your nail. “Oh!” The fork magically reappears at your side and you grab at it. “For my McChickens.”

“And for me,” he adds.

“Yup. You too.” But you drop it onto the seat and lean forward, fumbling with the volume dial until you feel the lead singer’s voice thumping into your heart. “I love this lady!” You shout and rock your head to the beat.

Shaking his head, his shoulders move in an easy laugh. The drive-thru line is kind of busy for 2 am, he notes, pulling in right behind a navy BMW sedan. But it moves quickly, especially when you’re moving in your seat, scream-singing the lyrics to I Want You To Want Me.

“Yeah,” he says, loud into the mic. “Two.”

“Alright.” The voice reports from the speaker, a background clicking joining their bored tone. “Two McChickens, a double cheeseburger—ketchup and pickle only— , a medium fry, and an Oreo McFlurry. Anything else, sir?”

Sapnap chews on his lip, and glances at you. You just give an encouraging thumbs up.

“That’ll be all,” he reports.

“Second window, and your total is $9.67.”

He barely has time to call a “thank you so much!” before the line ends with a click. Rude.

“Jesus Christ,” you moan the second you sink your teeth into your first sandwich.

“Agreed,” he mumbles and pushes as much cheeseburger he can fit into his mouth.

“This,” you start, swallowing. “is the sexiest thing I’ve encountered in all of my years. I thank all higher powers when I consume McChickens…” Trailing off for dramatic effect, you stare down the sandwich before mimicking a dinosaur war cry and practically shoving it down your throat. He just nods in agreement.

“It’s so nice out tonight,” Sapnap comments, swinging a look out his rolled-down window. He parked right in front of the Campus Quad, large bubbling fountain the show to your dinner. And some geese fighting each other for half a rotting hot dog.

“Mhm.” You crumple up your wrapper trash and toss it into the empty paper bag. “Could totally go for a swim.”

He turns and gives you a look. You look right back.

“Should we?” It’s barely a question.

“Um, hell yes,” is all it takes for you to say before you’re clambering out of the car and starting for the fountain. He follows closely after, jogging to catch up with your borderline track-star sprints.

“Wait up!” He calls as you reach the border of the fountain.

“Ugh,” you sigh, impatient. “Hurry up.”

“Mouthy,” he grumbles before kicking off his shoes and bending to fold his pants up over his knees. You just climb straight in and brave the cold.

Squealing, you hop from one foot to the other, shoulders tight as you get used to the freezing water. He laughs and climbs in right beside you.

“Shit,” he curses, and shivers. “This sucks.”

“You suck,” you quip right back and splash around. He stares, disgusted, at the water soaking up your jeans all the way up to your knees.

“You’re gross for wearing jeans in a fountain. That’s worse than wet socks.” He starts to move around as feeling comes back into his toes.

“What, would you prefer me taking my pants off?” A sassy look paints your face and he rolls his eyes.

“No, but you could’ve folded them up like a normal person.”

“I think you forget,” you start, and splash a palmful of water his way. “I’m quirky.”

He gasps, face twisting as the water hits his thighs.

“You’re dead.”

If campus police were patrolling the Quad right now, they’d see two college juniors wading around in a fountain, water up to their knees, having a competition to see who can inflict the most damage. He won, it seems, because your shirt is drenched all the way up to your ribs.

“Okay!” You shout, hands spread to brace yourself. The water in his palm falls. “I’m cold and I want my other McChicken.”

“Fine,” he sighs, and with some difficulty manages to get out of the fountain and back into his shoes. You just make your way back over to his car barefoot, braving the mulch and poorly-sanded concrete.

You both finish your food quickly, discussing menial things like how fast food restaurants always skimp on the pickles and how it’s truly a disservice to the world that so many people don’t know it’s Biggie singing the song Kat dances on the table to in the 1999 classic 10 Things I Hate About You.

When Sapnap pulls up to your house, he shifts the car into park and lets loose a heavy sigh. You whip around, hand on your buckle, and sport a very confused look on your face.

“I’m tired,” is all he says. Head falling onto the seat, he rolls over to give you a half-lidded look. You nod empathetically and climb very carefully out of his passenger seat. Your drunk muscles haven't caught up to your mainly sober brain, which is impairing your ability to look like a functioning human being.

“Thank you for tonight,” you chirp, smiling in at him with your arms folded on the open window sill. The half-drank Oreo McFlurry is lukewarm in your hand. He stares at your flushed lips.

“Anytime you want a drunk McChicken let me know.” He winks. “I have a gift card.”

“You spoil me,” you coo, and step up onto the sidewalk. “I’ll see you sometime soon, yeah?”

He nods, pursed lips fighting a grin.

Cute, you both think at the same time.

Sometime soon, somehow, means the very next day.

It’s breezy yet uncharacteristically hot out, and certainly way too bright for a hungover Y/N.

You’re sat on the porch swing, nursing a hot decaf coffee with lots of sugar and cream. Sunglasses sit comfortably on your nose, but you still have to squint. The pills you took have yet to kick in, so all you have to do is wait and try not to vomit into your mug. Suddenly, your phone lights up and buzzes to life. You press the green button and lift to your ear.

“What do you want?” Your voice is awfully froggy, you realize, and clear your throat.

“Good morning to you too.” Sapnap’s voice rings clear yet husky into your ear. The corners of your lips twitch up into a smile. God, you’re whipped just for the sound of his voice.

“It is definitely not a good morning,” you grumble and switch him into speaker phone. You drop the phone into your lap and stretch out further on the swing.

“Good morning for me,” he chirps cheerfully. “Take anything for the headache?”

“Yes,” you report, sounding like a pouting child and rubbing two fingers into your temple. “Some idiot fed me ice cream last night so this morning I woke up having to both shit and throw up.”

“Aww,” he sympathizes, sounding way too entertained. “That sounds like a you problem.” You stuck out your tongue, but upon realizing he can’t see it, make a ‘hmph’ noise into the mic. “Anyways. I called to see if you wanted to go get breakfast with me. Waffle House, specifically.” You make a face but lift yourself up off the swing, wincing.

“I saw a rat eat an entire piece of french toast there once. But—sure. I’ll pay.” He starts to whine, but you scoff. “Let me love you, bitch. You pay for my McDonald’s and I pay for your pancakes. Easy trade.”

“Whatever. See you in five.” He hangs up right as you twist the front door open and drop your phone onto the couch.

“Who’re you talking to?” comes from the kitchen and you jump, pressing a hand to your chest. A shirtless Karl enters the living room with a bowl of fruit loops in his hand.

“Jesus Christ,” you breathe, and duck into the hall closet for your pair of dirty tennis shoes. “I was talking to Sapnap.”

“Oh,” he says around his mouthful of cereal with a grin. “You guys dating yet?”

You pass him a weird look, bending to tie your shoes.

“Gimme like two weeks. I’ll have him at my beck and call,” you laugh and collapse back into the couch.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” He quirks an eyebrow and exits stage left into your roommate’s room.

The few minutes it takes for Sapnap to come to your house are short but filled with contemplation. Do you really want to date him? He’s certainly cute enough. Nice enough. And smart enough. He seems to like you too—

A honk interrupts your thoughts. Always having to be obnoxious, huh?

“You’re annoying,” you mumble as you buckle your seatbelt. He just shrugs, tiny smile tugging his lips, and shifts into drive. The short trip to Waffle House proves more quiet than lively. He seems awake, actually, so you attribute the silence to your tumultuous thoughts. The music is nice, though. Bikini Kill is perfect for 10 am.

After you two order (three chocolate chip pancakes for him and two regular waffles with a side of hashbrowns for you), he finally breaks the silence.

“Hey, are we dating?”

You pause with your lip on the rim of your orange juice. Your gaze falls from his lips to his fingers wrapped around the coffee mug. Two silver rings adorn both his middle fingers and they glint underneath the fluorescent lights.

“Do you wanna?” You squint back up at him. The tips of his ears flush pink.

“I-uh… Yeah. Yes,” he says simply. You try to hide a smile, but realize there’s no point.

“Okay.” You take a long drink of your orange juice. “I really like you. A lot. A surprising amount, actually; I haven’t really dated seriously since highschool.”

He nods, shuffling his feet on the tile. What else does he have to be nervous about? you wonder.

“I’ve… kindasortamaybelikedyousincesophmoreyear,” he mumbles and you swallow.

“Huh?” Leaning forward, you set your glass down.

“Um,” he starts but doesn’t finish.

“Did you say you’ve liked me since sophomore year?”

“...Maybe.” His coffee becomes the most interesting thing in the world, apparently. “Do you remember that one time during the Summer Carnival where Karl lost his phone?”

“Uh—yes! Yeah, actually. I do remember that. He found it in the porta-potty. What about it?” The waitress sets down both your plates in front of you and you offer her a smile in thanks before she trundles off to the drink station. You pick up your fork and wait for him to continue.

“I left two hours early because you invited Michael from your computer science class.” You pause around your mouthful of potato and he just stares back, trying not to grin. “Yeah. I thought you were hot and left early because you brought another guy.”

“Michael is gay,” you say slowly.

“Yup.” He nods and shoves a forkful of pancake into his mouth. “Isn’t that so stupid?”

“So stupid,” you tease but your cheeks blush pink.

“Anyways. Now I’m dating you, so. Win for me.”

“Ditto,” you murmur, and manage to fit half of your first waffle into your mouth. “This is the easiest it’s ever been to start dating someone.”

“It’s ‘cause we’re cool, I’m pretty sure,” comes from a mouthful of pancake.

“That’s facts.”

The rest of Pancake House is bustling, a few families with young kids and some other hungover college students scarfing down similar breakfast foods and confections. You two barely give any other customers the time of day, too wrapped up in conversation and each other. The waitress gets a heavy tip after an hour and a half of struggling to swallow dough soaked in syrup and chocolate.

Sapnap walks you to your door after breakfast, hand on your waist and pressed to your side. It feels good. Right.

“I’ll see you Wednesday right?” You ask, turning to him with hopeful eyes. How could he resist?

“Definitely. Wouldn’t miss Game Night for the world— I can’t wait to beat your ass at Uno.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” You murmur but you’re already slinging an arm around his shoulder and bringing his mouth down to yours.

You taste like sugar, he thinks. His hands find the small of your back easily, pressing you further forward into him. You hum at that, tracking a hand up the back of his neck and into his hair to grip it between your fingers.

He smells both musky and sweet and cool at the same time: heaven. One of his hands slides up to grip at your neck, thumb rubbing at your jaw, and you make a pleased noise into his mouth. There it is.

“Y/N!” Shrieks from inside your house and you jump, pulling away from Sapnap with a smack.

“What?” You yell back, irritated, and he just laughs as he dips to press a kiss to your cheek.

“Stop tonguing your boyfriend and come help me with my photography project.”

“God damn it,” you sigh and drop your hands. His slide down to just rest on your hips, comfortable. “I have to go.” You're annoyed, that’s for sure, and he prays you aren’t too mean to your roommate.

“Alright.” He dips for a quick kiss one last time. Okay, two more times. Maybe three. But he pulls away, grinning. “I’ll see you Wednesday.”

And then he’s stepping off your porch, walking to his car with his hands in his pockets. You watch his back fondly.

God, boyfriend. He’s your boyfriend. Boynap. Sapfriend. You can’t decide on a name, but all sounds perfect.

Perfectly him.

-

A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. :D comments = welcome!

[wiypt-writes]

Guilty As Charged

Guilty As Charged: Bucky Barnes One Shot

Summary: Defence Attorney James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is the absolute bane of your life…

Pairing: Lawyer AU Bucky Barnes x Reader (Frenemies!)

Warnings: Bad language words.

Word Count- Under 2k

A/N:  This was originally posted on my old blog ages ago, but I’ve just given it a little polish and thought, seeing as I’m on the Bucky Train at the moment, I’d bring it back. Also, my knowledge on US Criminal Law is sketchy at best, so humour me…

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist // Main Masterlist

*******

In God We Trust, the words set about the Judge’s podium were fixed in your vision, motes of dust moving freely in the rays of sunlight which were streaming through the large, ornate windows of the court room and you took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, concentrating on expelling the nerves you were feeling with the air that left your mouth and lungs.

No matter how many times you were in this position, the reading of the verdict still got to you. Your gaze turned to the jury, as the judge did the same, that all important question ringing across the room, the air stiflingly tense.

“On the charge of murder in the first degree, do you find the defendant or not guilty"

“Not guilty.”

Fuck.

Cheers from the defendants family drowned out your loud groan as you rubbed at your temple. Looking over at your colleague, Sam, you shook your head in utter disbelief.

The judge continued through the remaining charges, second-degree murder and voluntary manslaughter, and your despair grew as the same verdict was returned for each.

You’d lost. And it stung, not merely because of your near perfect conviction rate, but for the family of the victim you were one-hundred percent convinced the accused.

"Y/N this wasn't your fault.” Sam stated in a low voice but you simply sighed again and shrugged.

"I was sure they'd see through his lies,” you glanced over to your right where the defence team, headed up by James Buchanan Barnes of Barnes and Rogers Law firm were shaking hand with each other and their defendant. Barnes' face was arranged in the usual smug look that you always had the urge to slap right off it. His partner, Steve, glanced over at you and gave you a genuine, sympathetic smile.

He’s always the most courteous out of the two, the one you actually didn’t mind dealing with when it came to cases.

"He fucking did it Y/N," Sam's voice was almost a growl, "I know he did."

"Well in the eyes of the law he didn’t." You stated, standing up.

The commotion continued behind you, as the defendant was told he was free to go. Making sure to keep your head down, you hastily shuffled your papers back into their respective files and packed your briefcase up. Picking up your jacket, you shrugged it on, smoothing down pencil skirt before you head to leave the courtroom before Barnes can pipe up with his usual smart ass quips. But you're not quite fast enough. "Commiserations Miss Y/LN, can't win em all." The familiar Brooklyn drawl hit your ears.

"Buck," Steve sighed "c'mon pal..."

You grit your teeth. You know you shouldn't rise to it, but you just can’t help it. The man is an utter jack ass in the courtroom. Spinning to face him, you shot him your best contemptuous glare, the one you always reserve for those people you really cannot stand, and looked at him like he was something you'd just trodden in.

"You know Barnes, there is such a thing as being gracious in victory as well as defeat." "Defeat?” He asked, looking at Steve with a puzzled expression on his face, “no, not sure what that is." "Eat shit.” You mumbled before turning to Sam who was stood behind you, watching the exchange. You nod to him and the two of you continued up the aisle towards the exit. The victim's family were congregated outside and all at once the start barraging you with questions.

"How did that happen?"

"You said it was a cert he would go down!”

"What about a private prosecution?”

You sighed and turn to look at them, you were exhausted. "I'm sorry.” You shook your head. “That new evidence that his attorney submitted, it was just threw too much of a doubt into the juries mind..." you held your hand up to gently silence them. “If you're serious about a private prosecution then I can meet you next week to discuss and put you in touch with a few people but I’m sorry, as far as the State’s involvement goes…I can’t do anymore."

Escaping as quickly as you could, you and Sam headed back to your office. After a short meeting with your boss, the District Attorney, who was as pissed as you were that the prosecution had failed, you emerged feeling twice as tired and battered as you had when you’d left the courtroom.

As Sam stated, there was only one thing left you could do. Drink alcohol. A lot of alcohol.

It was a short walk to your preferred bar, having decided to abandon your car and collect it in the morning. You were going to get drunk. Really drunk. "Hey Y/N, hey Sam." Clint, the bar tender greeted you. “I hear it wasn't a great day.” You looked up and saw he was pointing to the TV behind the bar. It was on a news channel, focussing on a report from earlier that afternoon which wasn’t surprising. The case had thrown up huge public interest ever since the body of the teenage girl has been found in the alleyway in Queens. The defendant confessed but somehow, the new evidence submitted was an alleged recording that the defence had gotten their hands on as proof the confession was taken under duress. If you were being totally honest, you had to admit that it didn't sound great, the officer did seem to be leaning heavily on the defendant, but the other evidence was, no, IS overwhelming.

But all it needed was that little seed of doubt, which the defence sowed expertly, and the jury couldn't convict. And now, thanks to Barnes and Rogers, specifically Barnes, in your mind a dangerous killer was walking free. As you stared at the television, you saw Barnes on the screen with the defendant, all smiles and Steve at his side. Barnes greeted the press with a raised hand. "Clint turn it over man." Sam almost pleaded and Clint shot you both a sympathetic look, before he pointed the remote at and flicked the report over to a mundane, late afternoon game show. You ordered 2 beers, and then settled at the bar on one of the tall chairs, crossing your bare, heeled legs as you and Sam began to dissect the case. You couldn’t help it, you always did this, analyse where you went wrong or right.

The pair of you got that enthralled in your discussions, that before you know it, it was an hour lager and you're now four beers deep... and Sam was fielding an angry phone call from his wife, Natasha. "I gotta go, boss." He sighed, apologetically, “it’s my little girl’s dance recital at six and if I miss this one, Nat’s gonna hang me out to dry!” You waved his explanation off. “Its fine, Sam. Oh, and take the morning tomorrow. That case has had us working all hours and I don’t intend on being there till lunch. Clint, gimme a bourbon please?" "Don't let Barnes get to you.” Sam sighed. “You know what he is like" "Smug, arrogant and annoyingly self-righteous.” You nodded. “Yup, I got it.” Sam smiled and dropped a friendly kiss to your cheek. "See you later." Clint slid the glass of bourbon over to you and you smiled before pulling out your phone to check a few emails and your social media. You were just reading through an article about a Billionaire in Manhattan who had designed some kind of metal suit that allowed him to fly (because that's gonna end well), when a familiar voice broke your concentration. "Can I buy you a drink?" You rolled your eyes and looked up at Bucky Barnes as he leaned on the bar, still in his suit, although he had dispensed of his black and white tie, and opened his top button. This was another thing you hated about him. He is utterly gorgeous. Like GQ cover gorgeous, especially in his sharp suits and silk ties.

And he fucking knows it, too. "Depends." You shrugged, throwing back the remainder of your bourbon. "Does it come with a side helping of irritating smugness?" He chuckled. "I'm off duty, Doll so no."

"In that case I'll have another Monkey Shoulder." You slid the empty glass back to Clint. "Take it you're not driving home?" Barnes asked, his azure eyes running over your bare legs. "Well if I do and I get caught, I'm sure you can get me off any charges.” You replied sharply, shooting him a look that made it clear you caught him eyeing you up. And it isn't the first time either. That's another reason you clash so much in the courtroom. Sexual tension. Fucking jerk. He barked out a laugh "You're really not happy with me are you?" "Not particularly." You shook your head, thanking Clint as he pushed the now full glass back to you, with a small wink. It's a double, you noticed. That should set Barnes back a bit. Bucky reached for his beer and after a pull he looked directly at you. "Come work for me." He said and you groaned.

Not this again. "I'm a prosecutor." You rolled your eyes. "Not a defence attorney. I told you that last time you asked. And the time before, and the time before that." "I'm nothing if not persistent." He winked, turning in his stool so he was facing you. "Besides, I can teach you the ways of the dark side." "You’d love that wouldn't you?" You snort. "Oh, Sweetheart you have no idea." He leaned forward slightly, his elbow on the bar and this time he is blatantly staring at the flash of skin that was showing above the buttons on your blouse. "My face is up here, ass hole." With a smirk he raised his deep, blue eyes and they locked onto yours. Despite yourself, you feel your breath hitch slightly. Dammed him and his sex appeal. "Why are you always this insufferable?" You eventually tore your gaze away from his and picked up your drink, glancing up at the TV as an excuse not to look at him. "Ah come on Y/N, don’t be like that." He reached out to squeeze your hand which was resting on the back of the tall chair you were sat in. "We could make a great team..." You raised an eyebrow and looked at him. "Professionally.” He added, his eyes not leaving yours as he took another large drink of his beer, and you pulled your hand away from under his. "I'd kill you within five minutes of us being in the same office." You glared at him as you took another sip from your drink. He chuckled and eyed you again, “to be fair I'm not sure Stevie would be able to function with a beautiful dame such as yourself in close proximity. He still flusters around any woman that isn’t his Peggy.” "That's because Steve is a happily married man." "So am I." He shot back. Ah yes, Mrs Barnes… "Your wife deserves a medal. She must have the patience of a fucking saint to put up with you." You said into your glass. "I have other hidden qualities which mean she's prepared to overlook my slightly less favourable personality traits." He quipped, and you looked back to see that lopsided grin on his face that flips your stomach. Behave Y/N. "They must be very hidden." You mused, and he let out another loud laugh.   "You're killing me, Doll.” "Good." You drained your glass. The liquid burnt your throat and you could feel the effects of the alcohol from the last few hours as your brain started to hum. You looked at Barnes who was watching you, his eyes shining with all the cheekiness of a teenage boy and you know you need to leave before you do something stupid.

Like snogging his dumb, handsome face off. "I think it's time I got going." You said simply, standing up. Barnes gave a nod, draining his bottle. “Yeah I should be making tracks too. Wife to see to, you know how it is.” You stood and he did the same, and you realised he was holding up your jacket, ready for you to slide your arms into. Narrowing your eyes slightly at his sudden chivalry, you couldn’t help the small smile that flickered across your face as you turned and allowed him to help you into it. His hands dropped to your shoulders and he span you round gently and smiled with those perfect teeth, a smile that lit up his beautiful face, his eyes crinkling in the corners. "Lead the way Mrs Barnes.” He instructed softly, dropping a tender kiss to your lips. "You know it's a good job I love you,” you smiled, sliding your arms up round his neck. "Yeah, I know." "Although right now I'm struggling to remember why." "Well, when we get home I'll just have to show you some of those hidden qualities I was talking about, see if they help jog your memory.” You bit your lip slightly at the dark flash of desire that flit across his eyes, and you leant up to brush your lips across his stubbled jawline. "Unanimous verdict,” your voice drops slightly as you pull back and he smirked again, “guilty as charged.” You tossed Clint a good bye, linked your hand into your husband’s and he walked you outside into the brisk wind, his arm pulling you close, his lips pressed a soft kiss to your temple. Yeah, James Buchanan Barnes might be an insufferable, arrogant ass hole in the courtroom, but outside it he's simply your Bucky.

[kunikinnie]

My Ideal

Pairing: Kunikida x F!Reader

Almost Blue Series Masterlist

Genre: fluff, pining

Word count: 765 (excluding song lyrics)

Warnings: very minor Osamu Dazai's Entrance Exam (first light novel) spoilers

a/n: This is the song that started it all. I saw, I listened, I wrote. HAHA COME ON this song just SCREAMS Kunikida.

Link to the song, if you'd like to listen

Long ago my heart and mind

Got together and designed

The wonderful girl for me

Oh, what a fantasy

Kunikida likes plans. Well, like is an understatement. Everything that can be planned was planned, whether it be about that limited sale on eggs that weekend or his marriage 10 years from now.

That’s why when he showed Dazai his 58 criteria for his ideal woman, it didn’t even cross his mind how strange the list was. The look on the brunette’s face was nothing short of horrified.

“Kunikida-kun, these are all points every man can agree with but…”

He snapped the notebook shut and slowly returned it to the blonde.

“This person does not exist.”

Though the ideal of my heart

Can’t be ordered a la carte

I wonder if she will be

Always a fantasy

It has been a few years since then and still no sign of said woman. The 4-year deadline was approaching soon and fast.

He was totally not jealous of his coworker who seemed to charm every woman he met. Be it a client or a random passerby, Dazai could sweep them off their feet if he wanted. As a result of that there was no shortage of women who waited upon the man.

How he managed to do that, he might never understand.

Your laughter resounded throughout the entire office; due to the bandage machine's antics, no doubt. It bothered him to no end that you of all people had to be his partner-in-borderline-crime. Yet he couldn't bring himself to harshly scold you for it.

Nothing of what was described resembled the ideal woman written down in Kunikida's notebook. Your mischievous side was something he'd never had thought he'd crave to see - but he wishes that it wasn't Dazai who brought that out in you.

"Please submit your report if you have nothing better to do, y/n." The exasperation in his voice was evident, but the tone was much softer than Kunikida's usual.

"Sorry Kunikida," you said sheepishly. "I'm almost done, though!"

His mouth opened to say something, but no words came out. The desire to carry on the conversation wasn't enough for Kunikida to come up with anything.

A small sigh escapes his lips as his focus returns to the task at hand. Now is not the time to be distracted after all, even if he can hear a certain bastard snickering in the background.

Will I ever find the girl in my mind?

The one who is my ideal

Maybe she’s just a dream and yet she might be

Just around the corner waiting for me

The sun was about to set after a tiring workday, but the two of you were only about to start another mission. Kunikida had to drive there because of how far the location was from the agency. It would probably take at least an hour to get there, which was more than enough time for you to rest.

“I’m going to take a nap,” you said through a yawn.

Within moments, you were out like a light, the seatbelt barely cradling your head. Your chest gradually rose and fell slower and slower until it reached a steady rhythm.

It wasn’t usual for him, yet Kunikida turned up the volume of the radio to hopefully make your sleep more comfortable. The music filled the atmosphere allowing for his thoughts to safely dominate his headspace.

Will I ever recognize the light in her eyes

That no other eyes reveal

Or will I pass her by and never even know

That she was my ideal

The car came to halt by an intersection, giving him an opportunity to steal a glance at your sleeping form.

You looked so peaceful. The calm that you were in was so unlike the usual hustle and bustle in the workplace. The way that the orange rays highlighted your natural features - since when were you this beautiful?

Somehow images of you in a similar setting, although taken from the many future years to come, flashed in front of him. Would he really be able to see it in real life as well? How lucky he would be if he could.

The taste of the coffee you gave him before leaving the agency still lingered on his tongue. It was an apology for submitting the report late. He noticed was something you've done whenever he was stressed, whether it was caused by you or not.

Perhaps it was a simple act of kindness he became a bit too attached to, but truth be told no matter how hard things may get you were always compassionate and thoughtful not just to him but also to everyone else. That was something he admired about you.

You have such a beautiful soul.

The honk of the car behind him abruptly ended his musings. Kunikida hastily shifted gears and stepped on the gas.

Thankfully, you didn’t wake up from that to see the blushing mess beside you. Nor did you see the smirk that formed on his face at his stark realization: although it came packaged nothing like what he expected, his ideal has been right there all along.

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 13

Death!Din x Cupid F!Reader

Summary: Ahsoka takes Din on a journey through the past.

“You should know though, you might not like what you see.”

Din shakes his head, dismissing the warning. “What’s one more nightmare?”

Rating: T

Word Count: 5,958

Warnings: angst, swearing, character death (canonical, but with my own twist), made up planet name that is ridiculous, dialogue heavy, plot plot plot, backstory

Author Note: Good lord this is soooo late coming out. To anyone who sent me an encouraging message I am beyond grateful because I really needed the encouragement to finish this segment. I hope more than anything this segment gives more answers than it raises questions (although reading your theories is both awesome and entertaining so keep them coming too!)

Links to Part 1 and Part 12 and Part 14

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

“Who the fuck is Moff Gideon?”

Ahsoka looks at Din, her brow furrowed deeply. He’s seen the expression on her face enough times to recognize its meaning: this is the face she makes when she is about to reveal a message directly from the universe itself. As an Oracle, she is the only immortal who can glimpse details of the past, present, and future. She has a soft spot for mortals, sharing the few precious snippets the universe allows her to with them in the forms of riddles and vague prophecies that never fail to give Din a migraine with their crypticness when he hears them.

“Moff Gideon is a Seraph who grew discontent with his position amongst immortals,” she says at last.

“Is he the one responsible for keeping my soulmate from me?” he asks, voice as harsh and unforgiving as the environment surrounding them.

“He is responsible for many sins.”

“I don’t have time for your vague answers,” he growls, hands twisting into fists. “You tell me not to kill this Seraph, then in the next breath claim he’s a threat. I am not a mortal who will be entertained by riddles, Ahsoka. You summoned me here to talk, so start talking. Tell me what you know.”

The Oracle’s mouth purses into a thin line. Nearly a full minute passes before she speaks again. When she does, the calmness is no longer natural, but forced. “Telling you what I know would be impossible.”

“Ahsoka—”

“But,” she pitches her voice higher than his protest while narrowing her eyes disapprovingly, “I am capable of showing you. You should know though, you might not like what you see.”

Din shakes his head, dismissing the warning. “What’s one more nightmare?”

She reaches forward, pressing her index and middle fingers to the center of his visor. If not for his helmet, she’d be touching the space directly between his eyes and instinct tells him the positioning isn’t random.

“We’ll start at the beginning,” she says, but her voice has changed from its usual cadence. It is ancient and youthful, a harsh scream and a hushed whisper all at once.

Din has only the slightest of seconds to process this in addition to the way her facial markings start to glow and her eyes flash white before he finds himself standing in the midst of a crisis.

There is mass hysteria every direction he turns. People screaming in terror, pushing each other and tripping over those who have fallen in their haste to flee an unseen threat; whole buildings are crumbling, sending flaming debris and shards of glass raining down upon the streets as smoke billows into the sky. The edges of his field of view are blurred, like he’s looking at everything through someone’s glasses, and it creates an ache behind his eyeballs. Fuck, is this what it’s like for Ahsoka when she experiences visions?

‘You remember the Fall of Mandalore, don’t you, Death?’ Ahsoka’s voice resonates from deep inside his brain, as if she’s fused her consciousness with his.

His jaw tightens when he says, “Of course.”

��Oh, look. There you are.’

Sure enough, when Din looks forward he sees himself moving swiftly through the crowd, unaffected by the chaos as he stoops to reap the soul of a woman who’s had her skull caved in by the stampede of frantic civilians. He wonders how many others can say they’ve had an out-of-body-experience such as what he’s dealing with right now: reliving a traumatic event all over again while observing himself the same way a stranger would from a distance.

“Why are you showing me this?”

‘Because it’s important,’ Ahsoka answers, and the image of her frowning face enters his mind unbiddenly. ‘The universe has a plethora of endings imagined for every civilization, but it is the individual choices of the community that act as stepping stones bringing them closer to a specific fate.’

“Mandalore was always meant to fall apart. It was just a matter of how, not when,” he surmises, voice devoid of emotion. His words are punctuated by another fiery blast from a nearby complex, followed by an ear-piercing wall of a terrified child.

‘Precisely. But the same cannot be said for an individual’s lifespan. There are consequences if someone perishes before their time has come. You should know that better than anyone.’ There is a hint of accusation thinly veiled in her tone that has his body tensing reflexively.

His location shifts, shapes and colors mixing together without warning before another scene gradually comes into focus. It’s a large chamber with sparse furnishings, but its beauty is tarnished by the copious amounts of glass littering the room as every single one of the ornately designed windows have been shattered from the force of the explosions outside. Din knows before he even lays eyes on the throne he’s inside the royal palace because he first sees the familiar face of his most trusted reaper standing next to a blond-haired woman. Both women have such strikingly similar facial features nobody who sees them side by side can have any doubt they are related.

Whereas Bo-Katan dons gray-and-blue armor with a jetpack strapped to her back and two blaster pistols holstered at her sides, her sister, Satine, wears a garnet colored dress with a gold belt wrapped around her slender waist. In this moment, the sisters differ from each other as much as night and day; one a military leader, the other a pacifistic duchess.

“You need someone here to protect you. We don’t know who or what we’re dealing with and it isn’t safe for you to be alone,” Bo-Katan argues, crossing her arms over her chest as if to intimidate her sister into submitting.

“Our people are scared and defenseless, Bo. They need your protection during this crisis more than I currently do,” Satine says, voice soft but firm in a way only those deeply involved in politics can master.

Bo-Katan glances out the broken windows at the burning city, stubborn loyalty to protect her sister warring with her duty to protect her people. “Then at least send a message to Obi-Wan to come here.”

Satine shakes her head. “Bo—”

“I know things are strained between you two right now—”

“That’s a glaring understatement.”

“—but he’s one of our best and most loyal guards. He’s proven more than a dozen times he’ll fight anyone who’s a threat to you.”

“I don’t need the reminder of what he’s done for me.”

Bo-Katan places a hand on the blonde’s shoulder and squeezes it when she says, “He’s the only one other than myself I trust to protect you if you were to encounter danger.”

“Just because I’m committed to peace does not mean I am incapable of looking after myself.” Satine reaches behind herself to detach a weapon that had been clipped to the back of her belt. She clicks a button on its hilt, emitting a white blade shining brightly like a beacon amongst the dark clouds of smoke tainting the air.

Din’s breath catches in his throat. “Is that…?”

‘The Lightsaber of Mandalore,’ Ahsoka confirms. ‘Made by the Armorer herself.’

The Armorer is deeply respected by both mortals and immortals alike. As the goddess of metalworking and blacksmiths, there is nothing she cannot forge and infuse with grand powers. However, she is exceedingly cautious about choosing who is a recipient of her creations.

Din is one such recipient, having been given his armor of pure beskar when the Armorer realized how dangerous his touch was to mortals. He remains eternally grateful for the gift not only because it prohibits unwanted physical contact, but also because it is invulnerable to damage or rust like other types of armor. Ahsoka’s dual sabers were also made in the Armorer’s forge, specifically designed for the Oracle’s grip alone and meant to protect her during her journeys throughout the galaxy, but in contrast to the white blade of the Lightsaber, the blades of Ahsoka’s weapons matched the same blue coloring as the stripes on her lekku and montrals.

According to the legends Din’s heard, the Armorer created the Lightsaber for the first ruler of Mandalore because she was impressed with their culture and strong military, and it was passed on to each new heir to the throne over the centuries. When wielded in battle, the Lightsaber made the user invincible against enemy attacks as it siphoned off energy from the souls of those it sliced through.

Throughout the long history of Mandalore, Satine was distinguished as the only ruler to avoid warfare as she sincerely believed negotiations and treaties could solve any problem quicker than bloodshed.

As such, Din isn’t surprised when Bo-Katan raises a judgmental eyebrow. “Did you forget who you’re talking to? I know you wouldn’t use the Lightsaber even to cut a piece of fruit.”

Satine sighs through her nose, sheathing the weapon once more. “Fine. I’ll contact Obi the second you’re gone.”

“You better.” Bo-Katan leans forward, pressing her forehead against her sister’s. A gesture of affection within their culture. “I’ll see you soon.”

And then she’s gone, flying out the nearby window and diving straight into the fray. As a mortal and as a reaper, the redhead is fearless in the face of danger. Some might consider the behavior reckless, but Din’s always been impressed by her dogged tenacity to achieve victory no matter the difficulty of her mission.

Din looks back at Satine. Now that she is alone in the room, she is able to freely express her distress at the unfolding situation, looking as if she’s aged ten years within the blink of an eye. She fiddles with the comlink around her wrist, seeming hesitant to call this Obi-Wan fellow like she agreed to.

‘They haven’t realized it, but they’re soulmates, ’ Ahsoka murmurs, low and melancholic. Hearing it makes Din’s chest constrict with unease. ‘They fought recently and parted ways upset with each other. Unfortunately, she dies before they can resolve their miscommunication.’

The next sequence of events play out startlingly quick, as if Ahsoka has chosen to suddenly jump forward in time. His eyes struggle to absorb the fleeting details—the doors to the throne room being blown open; a Seraph in black armor emerging from the smoke; his voice is unique, velvety and thorny at the same time, as he addresses the duchess by her full name Satine Kryze; Satine attempting to stall as she subtly taps at her comlink, only for the tactic to fail as the foe teleports closer, eliminating the space between them.

“You have something I want,” he tells her, seizing hold of her throat. “You may think you have some idea of what you have in your possession, but you do not.”

One of Satine’s hands claws at his face, attempting to gouge out his eyeballs with her nails, while the other reaches for the Lightsaber. Her fingertips brush against its metal hilt just as he throws her to the floor. The impact knocks the breath out of her lungs, eliciting a strangled gasp, and shards of glass dig into her exposed skin, dotting the pale flesh with beads of blood.

Gideon—Din doesn’t need Ahsoka’s input to know this, for who else could the Seraph be but him?—places the heel of his boot over Satine’s neck. He doesn’t apply pressure yet, but the action in itself has the duchess squirming with panic, hitting at his leg futilely. There is a red light on the comlink flashing insistently, indicating someone on the other end is speaking but they’ve been muted.

“Give me the asset I seek.”

Through clenched teeth, Satine wheezes, “It belongs to Mandalore.”

“I thought you might say that,” Gideon replies, feigning disappointment. “However, in case you haven’t noticed Duchess,” he gestures towards the windows, “Mandalore is dead. My accomplices have made sure of that.”

“You’re a coward for hiding behind others. You don’t deserve the Lightsaber.”

There is a sudden change in the atmosphere, air turning impossibly frigid and crisp.

“I deserve it more than anyone,” Gideon says, angry enough he is trembling. The Seraph’s stance shifts, and although Din has witnessed every type of brutal death imaginable, he flinches at the sound of Satine’s neck snapping beneath his heel.

Gideon rolls her lifeless body over and rips the Lightsaber off her belt, a satisfied smirk on his face. He disappears as quickly as he arrived, reward in hand, and an eerie silence envelops the room. It’s almost as if the palace itself is stunned by the loss of its ruler, struggling to make sense of the merciless act of violence.

Time skips forward again, showing a young bearded-man dressed in military armor clutching at Satine’s body, pressing his forehead against hers as he weeps. Over and over he keeps murmuring apologies for not being quicker, for failing to be there when she needed him, for never saying he loved her.

“How do you know Satine and Obi-Wan are soulmates if they never matched?” Din asks, feeling like he’s intruding on a private moment despite not actually being there.

He thinks of a similarly phrased question he’d asked his angel on their way to Sorgan what feels like entire lifetimes ago: how will I know it’s my soulmate? Her eloquent response remains embedded deep in his memory, safely stored away along with every other moment they’ve spent together. Longing twists like a knife in his side as he allows himself a second of weakness to look at the soulmate marking on his palm.

‘I saw the life they were going to share,’ Ahsoka tells him. ‘Satine Kryze was not meant to die here. She and Obi-Wan should have both survived the Fall of Mandalore, settling down happily with each other elsewhere in the galaxy. Gideon’s greed altered their destinies.’

The palace fades away to reveal a much older Obi-Wan, gray-haired and wrinkled. He’s in Mos Eisley; Din recognizes the crowded spaceport instantly having taken his ship there for repairs numerous times over the years.

‘The universe puts a lot of effort into making sure soulmates match with each other at a very precise moment. Even if the match is rejected, the individuals still had an important impact on each other’s lives. Timing is the most important factor for a soulmate pairing, and if it’s off then the universe will attempt to fix it.’

Obi-Wan stops to help a woman who’s accidentally dropped her shopping bag, contents spilling out onto the sandy ground. She thanks him as he offers her a polite smile, both of their attentions on each other’s faces and not their hands. More specifically: their marked hands. There is the barest brush of their fingertips as they reach for the same item before an invisible blast of energy erupts from their touch, splitting them apart and sending every person and thing surrounding them flying in all directions.

The shock on Obi-Wan’s face matches Din’s own beneath his helmet. He remembers his angel telling him after the failed match with Omera what happened on Sorgan wasn’t the first time an event like that occurred, but she hadn’t been privy to the details. Her superior had told her she wasn’t high enough ranking which Din had thought sounded like a load of bantha shit at the time.

“Ahsoka, what is the meaning of this?” Din asks the questions quietly, but there’s an audible coating of frustration that he knows she won’t miss. “Satine’s dead.”

‘You didn’t reap her soul,’ Ahsoka says. It’s said as a gentle reminder, but it nevertheless has Din feeling like the ground has disappeared beneath his feet as realization dawns.

“I...didn’t.”

A quiet sigh echoes through his head. ‘I forgot how ignorant you can be. You can’t reap a mortal soul that transforms into a new entity.’

“She’s a Cupid,” Din murmurs. Either that or a reaper, but he knows each of his reapers like the back of his hand and Satine isn’t nor has she ever been one. He shakes his head, thinking of Obi-Wan finding Satine’s body in the throne room. “That doesn’t make any sense. Obi-Wan clearly loved her.”

‘Rejection can sometimes stem from a misunderstanding. Satine’s last living encounter with Obi-Wan was him saying so long as he was part of the royal guard they had no future together. She perceived this as him denying he cared about her, not knowing he had made plans to retire in order to ask for her hand.’

In front of Din, Obi-Wan rubs at his soulmate marking while staring at the mess around him, lines of unease and confusion creasing his forehead.

‘You asked, what is the meaning of this moment?’ Ahsoka continues. ‘It’s one of the universe’s attempts to reconnect Obi-Wan and Satine so they experience their matching as they were intended to.’

“But they’re of different statuses,” he points out needlessly. “She’ll outlive him.”

‘Yes, but the matching of soulmates not only influences the lives of the pair, but the lives of other people as well in ways both obvious and invisible. Think of it as a ripple effect.’

“Did the universe’s attempt work?” Din wonders. “Were they ever reunited?”

‘When Satine awoke as a Cupid, it was a surprise to both her and Gideon. Rather than kill her a second time, the Seraph chose to inflict a worse fate. She became the first of her kind to have her memories erased. However, he’d never previously used his ability on another immortal before, resulting in him nearly wiping her entire mind clean. The universe is capable of many miracles, big and small, but every attempt of reuniting the pair failed. It remains the universe’s most profound regret which is ultimately the reason why the universe brought you to Trinomliaxeros without your armor so that history wouldn’t repeat itself.’

There is a strange, heavy feeling that suddenly inflates within the confines of Din’s chest like a balloon. It’s different from the rampant anger he can still detect simmering beneath the skin of his human façade. He tries to shake it off, focusing on his breathing and the desert heat emanating from the twin suns overhead, only to slowly realize that what he’s feeling is fear.

Within his memory he can recall just one other distinct moment in his existence where he felt this spine-chilling emotion, and that moment was experienced on Trinomliaxeros.

“What did you just say?” His voice sounds shaky even to his own ears, but he can’t find any energy within himself to care.

A long stretch of silence fills his head; it’s the fragile kind, too, preventing him from snapping at Ahsoka to answer lest she become angry at him and yank him out the vision entirely.

‘Twice the timing of a soulmate match has been disturbed. The first pair affected was Obi-Wan and Satine. And the second pair was...’

“Ahsoka,” he says when she hesitates to continue, but any additional words he can think of saying catch in the back of his throat.

‘The second pair was you and your angel.’ Another pause of silence, shorter but no less meaningful. ‘Only fifty years ago, she wasn’t an angel.’

This is what Din remembers from Trinomliaxeros: feeling a pull so forceful, impatient and unanticipated it drags him across the galaxy in his civilian clothes, arriving to find the planet engulfed in smoke, unable to see his hand in front of his face, even without his gloves on. Finding skeletal remains burnt to blackened crisps with the souls inside shaking and traumatized, practically leaping into his outstretched hand, knowing either the afterlife or damnation would be better destinations than lingering there even a second longer. Explosions in the distance, bursts of flames as intense and hot as the sun, greedily consuming everything in their radius.

Out of the smoke and darkness, a survivor. A girl, covered in soot and sweat, colliding with his chest. The dead are calling out to him, pleading for him to reap them, to save them. Their voices swirl around his head, clawing at his brain and pounding against his skull. Shoving the girl aside, one foot in front of the other, letting his powers guide him to the next soul. Her voice cuts across the distance, a plasma bolt striking him in the back. We’re soulmates, she says.

His breath stills in his lungs. Fear spreads like a virus through his bloodstream, slipping beneath his defenses, turning him into a stranger within his own body. The declaration is a lie, an impossibility, a delusion. He has no match, hands unmarked, flesh poisonous and lethal. His words, too, are weapons themselves. Sharp, ruthless, desiring to wound her as she’s wounded him. You could never be my soulmate.

And then he’d left her.

This is what Din remembers. But, he thinks, squeezing his eyes shut so tightly it hurts, I’ve remembered everything all wrong.

Phantom hands gently press against the sides of his helmet, offering comfort without caring about the dried blood. He keeps his eyes shut, knowing it’s just a manifestation crafted by Ahsoka in his head. ‘Don’t blame yourself. This was the only viable outcome the universe could produce to ensure the bad timing would be remedied in the future,’ she says, but it does little to lessen the weight on his chest. ‘Your rejection saved her life. It granted you both a second chance of a first meeting.’

“How did—” Din struggles to string words together, to fucking breathe. “She—She knew. What we were. How…?”

The Oracle puts him out of his misery. ‘She found out the way all soulmates do: through touch.’

Din’s eyes fly open at that, and he has to blink a few times to bring everything into focus because there’s him and his angel right in front of him, frozen mid-collision. She’s grasping the sleeves of his coat to keep her balance, the palm of her marked hand touching his wrist. He stares at the point of contact for a moment, then barks out a laugh, hysterical and strangled sounding.

“That’s not possible.”

‘Soulmates can’t kill each other. She’s always been meant to withstand your touch.’

Din swallows thickly, staring at his angel’s face. He hates the question forming on his tongue, but it will haunt him the rest of his life if he doesn’t ask it. “In your visions, when I meet her at the right time, what happens?”

'You’re different by then, less broody and more accepting of the notion you could be loved. You have a soulmate marking,’ Ahsoka tells him. ‘You fall for her hard, even before your hands brush. You love her throughout the entirety of her lifetime.’

“And...when she dies?” The words taste like blood in his mouth.

‘Don’t torture yourself, Death. That timeline doesn’t exist anymore.’

For one brief, fleeting second Din is actually grateful Gideon altered their destinies. However, in the next, he’s trying not to let the fear gnawing at the back of his mind increase as it belatedly occurs to him that the universe is not as infallible as he’s always believed it was.

He wishes he could see Ahsoka, if only so he could glare at her directly. “Everything you’ve shown me has only further convinced me Gideon deserves death. Why have you asked me to promise not to kill him?”

'Do you remember what happens after this moment on Trinomliaxeros?’

Din frowns at the change of subject. “I continued to reap souls.”

'Yes. And then?’

He huffs a frustrated breath through his nose. This is Ahsoka, he thinks, at her most annoying. But, as much he loathes admitting it, this is also the most helpfully transparent she’s ever been. Today may be the only time she trusts him enough to share her visions. He owes it to her to be as open as she’s being with him.

That being said, he’s still wary of the memories he’s kept in the distant, shadowy corners of his mind being pulled into the spotlight. “Tell me we’re not gonna talk about the kid.”

‘We talked about the universe’s biggest regret. It’s only fair we talk about yours too.’ Ahsoka has found the crack in his armor he’s tried so long to conceal, peeling it open without remorse.

She doesn’t spare him time to argue. All he does is blink and he’s looking at his past self locked in a staring contest with a little green-skinned child who is propped up inside a floating, orb-shaped pram.

Of all the buildings and homes on the planet, only its temple had remained untouched by the destruction. Din didn’t know if it had been the structure’s own holy foundation keeping it standing or if it was the personal choice of the mastermind behind the attack, but he’d been drawn to it regardless, finding souls there to reap whose hosts had differed from other victims in that their throats had been slit. The walls of the temple were adorned with intricate murals depicting immortal figures and religious events of ancient history, but before he could observe the artwork closer, a quiet coo had stopped him in his tracks.

When he opened the pram, he hadn’t anticipated finding a baby of all creatures. When their eyes connected, every background noise abruptly ceased. Even the voices of the dead fell silent. Rather than rouse his suspicions, Din had felt only a sense of peace he usually only experienced in the midst of hyperspace travel where the stars were his voiceless companions.

An unspoken conversation transpired between the two of them, one Din still can’t translate into words all these years later, but it concluded with him knowing he would take the child with him.

Din had reached for him unthinkingly, the child lifting his arms up in eagerness to be held, but self-awareness kicked in right before contact and Din retracted his hands away so fast it startled the child into crying, brown eyes filling with tears. Panicked, he surveyed the room, looking for something to put an end to the wailing, before looking down at his own coat, experiencing a lightbulb moment.

“Alright, kid, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Watching his past self shrug off the coat, Din remembers it had been his favorite of his civilian clothes, well worth the cost for its soft fabric and length. He managed to successfully swaddle the child, ensuring his arms were safely tucked away to prevent him endangering his life, and Din exhaled a quiet breath of relief when the tears dried up almost immediately.

However, the ensuing silence wasn’t as peaceful as the previous one. Both past and present Din turn at the sound of distant shuffling echoing off the temple walls from another room.

“Ignore it,” Din tells his past self. “Just take the kid and leave.”

But his plea goes unheard and the past remains unchanged. Ahsoka is silent inside his head, either because she knows he won’t accept any more comforting words or because she thinks he’s undeserving of them for choosing to leave the child behind in his pram, closing it when he starts to whine again, so Din can go investigate the noise.

Din exhales a quiet breath, fingers twitching restlessly at his sides as he watches himself stalk through the temple halls, checking each room he comes across. It’s strange, seeing himself from this perspective. The distanced viewpoint allows Din to glimpse new details he hadn’t been capable of noticing back then.

Such as the reappearance of a familiar Seraph emerging from the shadows to stab him in the back.

Here’s one of the perks about being Death: he can’t be killed. That fact doesn’t mean there haven’t been attempts though. As Death, people sometimes look at his armor as a challenge. Like if they can fire a shot or throw a knife at just the right angle, it’ll wound him and allow them to live longer. Simply put, all those people are idiots.

When he looks like a regular, unintimidating civilian, he’s also been involved in violent predicaments where someone’s attempted to mug him or where he’s tried to save someone else from a similarly sticky situation.

Armor or no armor though, he’s always walked away from these encounters completely unscathed.

Well. With the sole exception of Trinomliaxeros where he was mostly unscathed.

It wasn’t the first time Din had been stabbed before. Usually knife wounds felt like a mild pinch. More irritating than painful, similar to a splinter stuck in one’s thumb. Once the weapon was removed, the damage healed within seconds, leaving behind no scar or proof he was ever attacked.

Usually, is the keyword to note here.

Ahsoka freezes time right when the blade of the Lightsaber is driven straight through the center of Din’s body, bone and flesh as easy to slice through as melted butter. His agonized expression—eyes screwed shut and lips open in a silent scream—would be comical if Din didn’t remember the exact emotions he was feeling in that moment.

Instead of a pinch, it’d felt as if thousands of invisible hands were pulling and scratching at him, attempting to strip apart his human exterior layer by layer—peeling off skin, scraping away muscle and bone marrow, seeking to reach the core of himself where his powers resided.

‘Looks like it hurts,’ Ahsoka says. The return of her naturally calm and neutral tone of voice seems almost cruel given the frozen, graphic display.

Din again wishes he could glare at her. “Is this funny to you?”

‘The transformation of the Lightsaber into the Darksaber is anything but funny.’

Lost in recollection, he failed to notice until now how the blade of the Lightsaber has changed in color from white to black. It’s the same inky hue that absorbs the brown in his eyes, that had dyed his veins during the execution of Hess.

‘The Armorer specifically instructed the Lightsaber only be used against enemies. As a neutral entity, you are, by definition, no one’s ally or adversary. By stabbing you, the saber became corrupted. It is a consequence Gideon still has yet to fully realize the monumental repercussions of.’

Time resumes, Din’s past self collapsing onto the floor, pressing a hand to the throbbing hole in his chest, attention too consumed by the franticness of his powers struggling to repair the trauma to notice Gideon lingering behind him. The Seraph’s stunned look of shock lasts barely ten seconds, morphing into one of deep contemplation as his gaze flicked between the weapon and Din, before he vanished.

When Din recovered enough to stand, he teleported back to the child’s location at once. He needs to get the little guy as far away from here as possible, somewhere peaceful and safe. His planning came to an abrupt halt upon finding the pram open and empty, his coat shredded and scattered about the floor in pieces.

“Gideon took him.” It isn’t a question.

‘Yes,’ she confirms. ‘The child was the intended target of this siege.’

“Why?”

‘He’s...very special.’ There is something about how her voice hitches when she says ‘special’ that has Din’s instincts prickling with alertness, but he holds his tongue. ‘Gideon considers him a tool he can take advantage of.’

The ugly, tight mass of anger swells inside of him and presses against his lungs, resulting in a low growl slipping out of his mouth. He curses his own ineptitude. If he’d paid more attention, hadn’t allowed himself to be wounded, he could have subdued Gideon and spared both his angel and the child from being captured.

“I warned you once upon a time, there would be consequences if you released your darkness,” Ahsoka says, her voice no longer emitting from inside his head. The vision fades back into reality the same sudden, jarring way one wakes up from dreaming. It takes all of Din’s self-restraint not to perform a full-body shake. “Your control is slipping as your rage increases. It’s making you not think clearly which is exactly what Gideon wants. That is the reason I am asking you to promise you will not kill him.”

Put like that, Din no longer thinks her request sounds quite so outlandish, even though he does still remain in the dark as to what consequences exactly will unfold. Ahsoka has remained stubbornly tight-lipped about the topic from their very first encounter, claiming the universe is adamant she can only share the details with one other person and it isn’t him.

“He deserves to die for all he’s done,” Din says quietly, but he’s self-aware to know his resistance is beginning to crumble.

“Between you and me, I think so, too,” she admits in the same low tone. Her ocean eyes are dark and stormy, reflecting her internal turmoil. “But rules are made for a reason and we would be fools to carelessly overlook the consequences of breaking them.”

The accusatory note from earlier has returned with a vengeance. He’s not surprised—of course the universe would utilize the Oracle to express its disapproval—but aggravation still thrums through his veins.

“Hess played a hand in my soulmate’s fate. He called her a whore.” Din’s upper lip twitches with the urge to snarl. “I don’t regret what I did to him.”

Ahsoka sighs. “I was afraid you’d say that. When you swore your creed, you promised the universe you’d only reap a soul when their host’s time has reached its destined end. By killing Hess, you not only broke a sacred rule, you also broke your creed.”

Din recoils, feeling like he’s been stabbed with the Lightsaber all over again.

“...What?” The anger is gone, extinguished by the weight of the revelation. Confusion and wariness are quick to fill the void. “What does that mean?”

She looks away then, but not quick enough to hide her troubled expression. “I...don’t know.”

He blinks, mind scrambling to understand the implications. “Isn’t that your purpose? To know everything?”

“For the very first time, the future’s unclear to me,” she murmurs, eyes briefly turning cloudy as if she’s trying to take a peek at the potential timelines right then and there. She shakes her head a beat later, frowning. “There are many choices left to be made, each one capable of influencing the fate of the galaxy. It is not possible at this time for me to predict our upcoming reality, let alone your consequences. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Din says, because it’s the truth and he doesn’t like seeing her crestfallen expression. Fuck, he might actually consider her a friend after all.

Whatever happens, he thinks to himself, it can’t be any worse to deal with than being separated from his soulmate. If he can survive this, he can survive anything.

“The last promise I made was broken.” He bites back a wince at the memory of his angel’s pinky promise. “But if making another one is the only way you’ll take me to my soulmate, then you have my word. I won’t kill him.”

A ghost of a smile pulls at her lips before she grabs hold of one of his vambraces. “Take me to your ship. I will guide you to her location.”

“You don’t trust me to go alone?” he asks, unsure whether to be amused or indignant.

“No,” Ahsoka replies bluntly.

Din huffs. “Fine.”

“I may not be able to see much at the moment, but I know it’s never wise to turn down support. You’re going to need us.”

“Us?”

“It’s Bo-Katan’s choice to make, but you and I both know she’s never been one to back down from a fight. Especially once she learns Gideon is her sister’s murderer.”

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[unmaskedagain]

Marinette: Iron Man’s Minion

Marinette: Tony’s Stark new Minion.

I have this random story idea of Marinette meeting Tony Stark. It creates fun dynamic with the avengers who begin to questions just how many children Tony has. This story might not go anywhere apart from a few headcannons so be warned.

Most people meet Tony Stark at the Stark Expo. Some are unfortunate enough to meet Tony when he’s rescuing them in the Iron Man suit.

However, when Stark Industries decide that after the events of Slovakia, thankfully Loki had been there to stop the worst of Ultron’s plan thus saving nearly everyone’s life, a little good press wouldn’t hurt.

Stark Industries quietly announced a competition to young inventors of the world: whoever designs the best new Iron Man suit wins a replica Iron man. When one little French girl wins, however it’s the stuff of her dreams.

Or at least Marinette thought so at first.

When the Parisian hero learned of the competition, she decided to pull out her old sketches of the iron man suit. She had always admired the sleekness of it but thousands ideas always hit her on how it could improve appearance wise. Marinette decided to submit her favorite design, never think it was ever a possibility that she’d win.

In fact Marinette was so sure she’d lose, that she didn’t pay attention when the winner was announced. She didn’t find out until her phone rang and Pepper Potts was on the other side of the videotime.

Tony Stark loved her suit design and instead of a shoddy helmet, the real prize was for the Winner to come to New York, meet the avengers, and work with The Tony Stark for the entire summer as an intern.

Marinette had never screamed so loud in her life. Her parents were thrilled at the idea of Marinette getting away from the dangers of all the Akumas and the drama of her class.

Honestly, Marinette thought it was her lucky break. She hadn’t made a single plan for the summer. All of her so called friends had taken to giving her the cold shoulder thanks to Lila and her lies. Marinette hadn’t even been invited to the class’s annual end of the year party. Whenever she tried to make plans with them. They were always too busy or just plain ignored her but then they go right ahead and make plans in front of her.

Marinette had been in tears by the end of term.

She tried to tell Alya she was leaving to New York but was met with contempt. Alya and Marinette’s friendship was non-existent at that point. And whatever childhood friendship she once had with Nino, died with it. Right or wrong, he always took the side of his girlfriend.

Kim trailed behind Lila like a lost puppy, further cementing he had terrible taste in women.

The most interaction Marinette had with Alix was when the pink-haired girl when out of her way to trip Marinette.

Rose said quietly whispered to Marinette that she didn’t want to cause problems with her other friends so they couldn’t talk much anymore. Juleka follow suit.

Adrien watched it all with a passive expression on his face like he didn’t know the truth. It was then that Marinette realized the boy didn’t care what the truth was as long as he didn’t have to deal with conflict.

As far as Marinette was concerned she didn’t have a single friend left in class. Just like Lila threatened. The only good thing that came from it was that Marinette that she wouldn’t care what people thought. Marinette decided to always say whats on her mind no matter what.

           Jagged said it made her very sassy, and so very ROCK AND ROLL.

Marinette arrived at Stark Tower three days after school ended. She had jumped twenty feet when she stepped into the elevator and a voice greeted her.

“Hello Miss Dupain-Cheng,” A voice said.

“Uh, bonjour?” Marinette said. “Please call me Marinette. And you are, sir?”

“I am Jarvis.”

           Marinette nodded. She had heard about the AI that help run Tony Stark’s world. “How are you doing today, Jarvis?” She asked it.

           There was a moment of silence. Most people, a part of his creator, had never asked Jarvis how he was.

“Less chaotic than usual,” Jarvis said with a dry amused tone that left Marinette wondering if A.I could be amused.

           Marinette straightened up and her blue eyes narrowed, “You are not being worked too hard, right? You get time to yourself?”

           Jarvis assured her that he did and that he liked his job. They went onto have a pleasant conversation about their most exciting experiences and Marinette’s future dreams.

Marinette didn’t know that currently Tony was watching the interaction from his workshop with a grin on her face. He had wanted to know just who he’d be working with. So far, Frenchy looked like a keeper.

When the elevator doors opened, Marinette followed Jarvis’s instructions on where to go. And that she was to wait in the living room until Tony came for her. It was then she discovered something about the A.I.

“You’re a bit of a jerk, Jarvis,” Marinette whispered when she walked into the living room where nearly all of the Avengers were hanging out and watching… Spongebob?

           Unfortunately, Tony had been drinking coffee at the time and ended up doing a spit take all over dummy.

           It took all of two second for the avengers to notice the fourteen-year-old girl standing there.

           The bluenette’s face turned bright red. It took everything in her not to start screaming and jumping up and down.

“Oh god, cap” Clint said, “One of your fangirls

“Fangirl? Oh please,” Marinette scoffed. “Have you seen the disaster of a costume he wears into battle? Not in this lifetime!”

           Unfortunately, again, for Tony and Dummy, Tony had taken another drink from his coffee at the moment.

“She’s trying to kill me,” Tony coughed. “Worth it.” He said with his eyes still glued the screen.

           The avengers just stared for a moment. Steve Rogers blinked hard, “What?”

“No offense,” Marinette quickly said. “I’m just really into fashion. And I cannot and will not be seen as fan of man who dresses like America’s drunk prom date.”

           Clint fell off the couch laughing.

“She’s not wrong,” Natasha shrugged as she eyed the girl with a smirk.

           Steve cast the spider a look, and turned frown to Marinette, “I wore that uniform to war.”

“Like World War 2 wasn’t tragic enough,” Marinette said dryly.

“Jarvis!” Tony yelled as he ran from the workshop still trying to watch his new favorite. “Get me some adoption papers.”

“Sir, she has parents,” Jarvis tried to reason.

“Didn’t anyone teach ya to respect your elders? A voice said behind her.

           Unfortunately for the newcomer, Marinette flight or fight instincts had been firmly in fight mode for quite some time. As she quickly spun around and kicked the guy in the face. And that was how Marinette met the Winter Soldier. She broke his nose.

           Bucky crashed into the wall with a force that left his head spinning.

“Peter always wanted a sibling,” Tony told Jarvis with a joyful look.

“And May Parker still hasn’t given you permission to adopt him either.”

“Sorry!” Marinette yelled frantically as she moved to help the man. “I didn’t mean to, I promise. Are you alright? Can I get you anything?”

“Besides your dignity back,” Sam added with the biggest grin on his face. “Because that’s gone, man. Like forever.”

           Marinette shot him a glare, and turned her the disheveled man. She noticed the bloody nose and her panic increased tenfold. “Oh god. Oh god.” She pulled a cloth napkin from her purse and held it up to Bucky’s face. She looked around the room, hysterically, and spotted Bruce Banner, “Dr. Banner, help please.”

“I’m not that type of doctor,” Banner quickly said.

           Marinette narrowed her eyes at him, “Today you are.”

           Bruce blinked. He felt the big guy rumble in amusement. He quickly got up to help.

“I’m fine,” Bucky said as he tried to wave her off and move towards the others. “Nice kick by the way.”

“You,” She pointed at Bucky. “Be quiet. You hit your head and might have a concussion.”

           Bruce instructed Marinette to remove the napkin as he examine his patient.

“Tis merely a flesh wound,” Thor boomed as he strutted over to look. “Nothing to worry about.” He moved to place his hand on the girl’s shoulder but before he could…

“Touch me and I will break that hand,” The girl suddenly said, her back to the blond god.

           Thor’s hand froze in midair. Marinette turned and looked at him. “Go sit back on the couch.” She ordered in such a way that Thor was reminded of his longtime friend Sif.

“I-” Thor started but was cut off.

“Now!”

           Thor flinched back. The blue eyes watched him sternly as he slowly went back to the couch like a puppy with his tail between his legs. Far from the scary small girl.

“Pepper would love her!”

“Yes, but she’d be furious about a kidnapping.”

“How is he, Dr. Banner?” Marinette asked.

           Banner decided right then shrugging would get him killed. “He’s fine. It’s just small break. He’ll be fine in an hour.” He got a skeptical look. “Super soldier, he heals fast.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Marinette said brightly.

“Come on,” Marinette told Bucky soothingly. “Let get you on the couch.”

           Bucky just let himself be led with a sigh. Why did the small, tiny ones always give him the most trouble?

           The other avengers moved out of their way.

“Are you okay?” Marinette asked again when sat the wounded man on the couch. “Do you need anything? Do you want the remote control? I can get you the remote control.”

           Said current owner of the remote control, Scott, looked up like a deer in the headlights. He froze when the French girl’s blue eyes found him and they narrowed in challenge. Scott barely noticed Sam slowly inch himself away from his teammate.

“Asshole,” Scott hissed to Falcon.

“What did you just say?” Marinette raised an eyebrow.

“I said: Here’s the remote,” He tossed it prized possession the Winter Solider who had a smirk on his face. He knew just how hard it was to maintain control of the TV in a home of superheroes.

           Marinette caught it in midair. She passed it to Bucky.

“Thanks!” Bucky smirked at Scott as he said it. “I��m good now. I swear.”

           Marinette nodded contently.

“Ahh Marinette,” Tony said as he entered the room. The smug expression on his face and in his tone didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the avengers. “Sorry I’m late. Come on, I’ll show you where we’ll be working.”

           Marinette grinned and ran over to the Tony Stark.

“Wait, who are you, tiny vicious girl?” Clint suddenly yelled.

“My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” She introduced herself brightly, looking very much like the sweet school girl they originally thought she was.

“My new intern,” Tony smirked. Then within seconds the genius pulled Marinette out of the room and disappeared from sight as Jarvis slammed the doors behind them

           Natasha hummed, “Tony always managed find the most interesting kids. First the spiderling and now…”

“The Devil,” Sam finished. “I have older sisters. Fear the wrath of a teenager girl.”

“She’s here all summer,” Steve remember feeling oddly self-conscious.

           Bucky chuckled and propped his feet of the coffee table, “Aww, don’t worry punk, I won’t let the mean powderpuff bully you.”

“So Dominator,” Tony said as the stepped into the elevator. “You really know how to make an entrance. I like that in a minion.”

“Minion?” Marinette squeaked. “Mr. Stark?”

           What exactly had she signed up for?

           The elevator doors opened. “Call me Tony,” He said spread his arms wide as he showed of the workshop. “So this is where the magic happens.”

           For the next few hours, Marinette toured the workshop and the tower. Tony really did love the suit she had drawn but had been a bit dismayed that Marinette didn’t have too much experience in the science. Marinette was a quick learned though, and Tony was impressed about how quickly she picked up information.

Happy, the driver who had picked Marinette up from the airport and who grumbled about always being stuck with teenagers, had brought up her bags as he had said he would and left it in her room.

Marinette didn’t run into any of the other avengers again until the next day. She got up bright and early, the sun still rising, as she was still used to waking up and helping her baker parents. Plus jetlag.

With Jarvis help, she easily found the kitchen. To her dismay, the fridge was full of junk food, take out boxes, and protein shakes. And coffee. Lots of clearly expensive coffee.

She sighed and got to baking. There was plenty of ingredients to work with as the kitchen was well stocked up unused. Within the next few hours, the kitchen and thus the entire tower was filled with the sweets smells usually only found in the bakery.

Marinette had made chocolate croissants, a variety of muffins, Berries and Cream Cheese Breakfast Pastries that her father swore by, and spinach, bacon, mushroom, and cheese quiches. She even made a pot of coffee. All spread out on the dining room table before eight am.

The first to make their way up to see what smelled so good was Natasha.

“Good morning,” Natasha said. “Been busy?”

“Morning,” Marinette beamed. “Daughter of bakers. Hungry?”

           Bucky came next. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail and he had on dark sweatpants. He look half asleep as He grunted a hello as he sat down to eat.

           A lovely girl named Wanda and a man Vision, who was apparently Jarvis’ son, came up next. Marinette hadn’t met either of them yesterday but they had heard of her.

           The next person to show was Clint but he took one look at Marinette and made a hasty retreat.

“Baby!” Natasha and with a grumble, Clint came back into the room.

“Hawkeye, right?” Marinette asked.

           Clint eyed her. “Yes,” he answered as he sat down next to the Black Widow. “And if you kill me, Nat will avenge me.”

“No, I won’t.”

“What!” He cried. “I’m your best friend.”

           The redhead looked at him and then at the berry, cream cheese goodness in her hands, then at Marinette. She looked back at Clint, “You’ve been replaced.” When he went to protest some more, Natasha shoved a chocolate scone in his mouth.

           His green eyes widened as the flavor exploded. He looked at the scone, then at Marinette, then at all the food on the table. Clint nodded solemnly, “I understand.” And made himself a plate.

           Marinette giggled at the antics.

           Tony entered the room, hair on ends, greasy t-shirt on and blinked hard at the feast at the table.

“I made breakfast,” Marinette handed him a cup of coffee cheerfully when he sat down. “Sweet and savory. I didn’t know what everyone liked.”

           He nodded tiredly but perked up as soon as he took a bite of spinach bacon quiche. He swallowed it quickly, “Jarvis?” Tony called.

“You cannot adopt her, sir.”

           Thor was next and thanked Marinette loudly for the splendid feast. Scott, Sam, and Bruce arrived next.

           Steve came next, apparently just having finished up a run.

           The two stared at each other, like a pair of cowboys doing a standoff.

“Listen… about what I said yesterday,” Marinette started. “I, one hundred percent meant it. Your fashion sense is appalling. But please consider this a peace offering.”

“My style was very popular in the forties!” Steve defended.

           Bucky snorted, “Liar.”

           That sounded off around of laughter.

           Marinette spent the next few weeks help Tony design his new suit, got trained with Natasha, Bucky and Steve, and went frequently to Stark Industries with Pepper Potts. (Though Steve had quite liked it when Marinette point at Pepper and said, “See that’s fashion. Gold standard right there. You, no.”

           She met Peter Parker not long after she arrived. He was a nice boy with glasses that reminded her a bit of herself. Tony had guardianship of Peter while his aunt was overseas on business.

“Minion three,” He greeted her. Peter sat down across from her work table and started on his own project.

“Four?” She asked, with a chuckle. “And you are?”

           Peter grinned, “Minion two.” He shrugged. “Riri’s three. Harley’s one. And is the union leader. They’ll be here tonight.”

           Marinette laid down her screwdriver, “There’s a union.”

“No there’s not!” Tony yelled.

           Peter leaned over the table and whispered, “We revolt at dawn.”

“God dammit, Peter!”

           Marinette cackled.

           It wasn’t long before the paparazzi got wind of Marinette. Then suddenly the magazines were filled with Marinette: Stark’s secret FOURTH love child. Marinette literally fell down laughing when War Machine stomped in the workshop and three a magazine at Tony’s head. “Another one, Tony? Didn’t even tell me!”

She was photographed frequently as whenever she left the company an overprotective avenger was sure to join her. She was teen vogue’s best dressed list. In tiger beat’s, things Marinette just can’t live without.

           That was when her phone started ringing and texts started pouring in from Paris. Unfortunately, for her ex friends, Marinette had promised that for the rest of summer the only people from France she’d talk to were her parents. And Marinette keeps her promises.

           So she never bother to look at the texts. The only time she interacted was when she had to use the horse miraculous to portal to home to stop an Akuma. Which was hard to hide from a group of nosy superheroes.

           Everything was going fine until the Kwami was let out of the bag in the middle of a family/team dinner.

           Loki poofed in one day, walked straight up to Marinette, and demanded to speak with Plagg.

“The Kwami of Destruction owes me money,” Loki said easily.

           Said Kwami flew out from where he was hiding, “Do not! You cheated.”

           And that was that.

           Marinette had no choice but to transform into Ladybug.

           To which Happy groaned, “Another teen bug themed hero,” He glared at Tony. “You did this on purpose.”

           None of the avengers had been happy about a teen superhero battle a terrorist on her own. Peter, Spiderman, just high-fived her.

[myhockeyworld87]

Bubble Wrapped - Part 1

Word Count: 2,683

POV: Reader

Warnings: Language

Notes: Ok so here is basically our introduction to the Bubble Wrapped story. I have no timeline for this thing or even if it will continue, you guys let me know. As a background, this story will be about life inside Hotel X. In case you don’t know the teams inside Hotel X are the Bruins, Capitals, Flyers, Penguins and Lightning. So here we go, Happy Reading!

You'd been shocked when Hotel X had been picked as one of the hotels for the NHL to stay at when they resumed play in Toronto. Even more so when you were asked if you would take over the management of the place over the next several weeks. "Listen (Y/N) we know we are asking a lot. You'll have to live at the hotel with all the players as the NHL is really trying to keep everyone in this little bubble."

 "I understand. I've already talked to Carly about putting different measures in place when the Maple Leafs came to us before submitting their proposal." Carly was another member of the hotel staff, that served as one of their concierges. She knew the ins and outs of the city and could get tickets or dinner reservations on the drop of a dime. That was all before COVID though. Now, some restaurants were still closed and shows hadn't resumed yet. What once was a bustling city, had come to a dead stop over the last several months, though things were starting to get back to normal; well the new normal that is.

 "So we heard." You hoped the blush that crept up your cheeks couldn't be seen on the zoom call as that had become their new form of communication with you. "You've dealt with the players before, we know you can handle it. Though this time it'll be completely different with five or six teams staying there." Most of the players had always been super nice to the staff, though there were a few that could be demanding at times. You prayed they'd all push their egos aside, at least while in the hotel, though somehow you doubted that. "I think you're familiar with the NHL's protocol on their reopening, but we'll email you everything once we get it. Start putting together the staff that you want. Just some core people that you'll need."

 "I've got the right people in mind, don't worry."

 The call went for a bit longer going over specifics. The only benefit out of the whole thing was that they were giving you the Presidential Suite to stay in. Honestly, it was the least they could do; you thought. Of course, the called ending with them saying, "Don't let us down."

 As soon as it ended you called Carly making sure she was on board. "I'm just saying Car that many hockey players in the hotel; the testosterone is going to be flying around."

 "So what you're telling me is you've already packed an extra-large box of condoms."

 "Carly!" You shouted at your friend. "That's not what I was saying at all."

 "Come on (Y/N), I know you're one of Seguin's regulars when he's in Toronto."

 "I'm one of them because I can keep my mouth shut." It was true that when Tyler was in town during the summer or on a road trip the two of you always hooked up. Sort of a no strings attached relationship, though you did talk from time to time. "Besides he's not even going to be in Toronto. He's in the Edmonton bubble."

 "Oh, I didn't realize." Carly despite being from Canada was not a hockey lover, though she did appreciate the men who played the sport. "Well, maybe you should call him and get the scoop. You know find out who we need to be aware of."

 It wasn't a bad idea, not that you were going to ask him who to sleep with, but maybe it would help get a handle on who was going to be problematic, as there was no way you wanted to let the owners of the hotel down. You had a lot riding on this and after all, you couldn't put bitter rivals in one hotel and not expect some drama. "You're right. I am going to call him."

 "Ooo good, let me know what he says and if we should get more than one box of those condoms."

 You shook your head at your friend before hanging up and dialing Tyler's number. "Hey beautiful, long time no talk," Tyler said and you could almost hear the smile in his voice.

 "Hey Ty, how's quarantine life going?"

 "Ugh, don't get me started. I was not meant to be locked in my house without hockey for this long." Tyler wasn't meant to stay put anywhere too long, including relationships.

 "Well, hockey's almost back so there's that."

 "Yeah, I'm pumped about it, though I wish I was staying in Toronto instead. I know some fun that we could get up to since I have to stay in the bubble." He paused and you could clearly tell he was running different sex scenarios in his head. "I'm assuming your working at the hotel."

 "Yeah, it's kind of why I called. I'm one of the ones trapped in the bubble with you guys."

 Tyler groaned. "So, you called to ask me who you should hook up with? Cause babe, I'm not sure I'm willing to share you like that."

 "Shut up Ty, you know we're not like that. You couldn't stay faithful to one woman if you tried." Part of the reason the two of you got along so good, was the fact that you called him out on his bullshit.

 "I might if I could drag you with me everywhere." You giggled at the insinuation of being taken everywhere just so you could keep him satisfied. "You're definitely gifted with many talents (Y/N)."

 "You're not so bad yourself, but we're getting away from why I called."

 "You mean you didn't call to have phone sex with me," and you could hear his pout.

 "No, I didn't call for that. I was just curious if you had any idea who was going to give me problems while we're in this so-called bubble. I'm trying to be preemptive here."

 "Ok, but if I give you some information you at least have to promise to send me a pic of your tits." You mentally rolled your eyes at him; the boy was a horndog.

 "Fine, now spill some tea."

 "Spill some tea, what is this a gossip blog or something."

 "You're avoiding the question Ty, and I'm putting on a sweatshirt." He groaned.

 "Alright, don't get your panties in a bunch…or maybe do." It never ended with him. "I don't know a lot about some of the younger guys that are newer in the league, but my guess is they're all horny little bastards. Hell, I was when I first got in the league."

 "You still are."

 "Touché." He answered before continuing on. "So, like I probably don't have to mention the rivalries to you, but like Caps and Pens hate each other, the Flyers and Pens hate each other. Doesn't everyone just hate the Pens?"

 "I think you either love them or hate them."

 "That's true," he agreed with your statement. "The Flyers and the Caps hate each other as well and don't get me started with who hates the Bruins. Wow, who really put them all in your hotel?"

 "I'd like to know that as well." It seemed like whoever did, had a warped sense of humor and you were now going to be stuck handling the mess that they'd made. "So, basically what you're saying is that it'll be an all-out brawl at times that I'll have to clean up after."

 "Sorry babe, but I think it could be. On the bright side, we're supposed to stay on our own floors."

 "Like that's going to happen." Maybe you should designate elevators or something because you could just see Alex Ovechkin and Claude Giroux getting in one at the same time and by the time, they got to your lobby they'd both be bloody and beaten. "Anything else I should know?"

 "You seriously want me to go there?"

 "I mean...if you want to." You certainly weren't going to ask but if he offered the information you'd tuck it away for later that's for sure.

 He sighed heavily, "You know I hate this, but like Tom Wilson gets around that's for sure and I've heard that Travis Konecny does as well. If I'm being honest there's maybe been a girl or two that's compared us."

 "Really?"

 "That doesn't mean you have to be one of them, though if you are…you better tell them I'm better."

 "Don't worry Ty, I'll sing your praises. I promise." Obviously, you wouldn't be doing that but it didn't hurt to stroke his ego a bit. "Anyone, to avoid?"

 "Marchy!"

 "Dude, he was like one of your best friends. Why would you say that?"

 "Because I know him. Stay away he's trouble." The fact that you could almost see the look on his face as he was telling you was comical.

 "Fine."

 "Oh and stay away from Carter Hart." The name sounded familiar.

 "The goalie from Philly? Why?"

 "Because you'll corrupt him." You burst out laughing and Ty joined you. "He's too innocent for you."

 "Dually noted, as I do not want to be known as the corruptor of innocents." You searched your mind thinking of anything else you could ask since you had him on the phone. "What about Crosby?"

 "Sid?" and he just couldn't stop laughing; you could even hear him try to catch his breath.

 "Why is that so funny? The man is hot Tyler, whether you want to admit it or not."

 He got serious as he asked, "Who's hotter him or me?"

 Thank god you weren't on FaceTime, so you could answer him without your features giving you away. "You are Ty, of course."

 "I thought so, but like the guy is hockey twenty-four seven. There's no way he's going to be thinking about getting laid."

 "That's disappointing."

 "He's about the only one that I'd give you permission to fuck, only because I know it would be impossible for you to accomplish, even given all your talents." You could hear the mischievous tone in his voice.

 "Hmmm, are you willing to bet on that?"

 "What? Like bet, you'll fuck Crosby in the bubble?"

 "Yeah." Did it really sound like such an unattainable accomplishment?

 "What's the wager?"

 "Winner flies out when this whole COVID shit is done and is the other's sex slave for twenty-four hours."

 "Oh, you are on, baby. I can already see you handcuffed to my bed in some skimpy lingerie." He cackled at the thought and it fueled your resolve to win this bet.

 "Don't be so sure about that."

 "And how am I to know that you actually slept with him?"

 Well, this would be tricky. "Well, it's not like I'm videoing it."

 "No, but that gives me ideas for when I win." Maybe you should be rethinking this gamble.

 "What do you want his underwear?"

 "Nah, you could get that in the laundry. But I'm sure you could sneak a pic of him sleeping." God that sounded creepy but if it meant you had Ty as your slave for a day, it'd be worth it and you'd never show it to anyone else but him and even then you weren't going to send it to him, though he didn't need to know that now.

 "Ok, it's a bet then."

 "Too bad we can't kiss on it."

 "Oh, you'll be doing more than kissing when I win, Seguin." Mentally you started packing sexy outfits to take into the bubble with you while thinking of all the things you'd have Tyler do the next time you saw him. "On that note, I better get my ass to work and make this hotel ready for these guys."

 "Fine, I'll let you go as long as you promise to FaceTime me at some point during this bubble thing."

 "I'm sure I'll have a night open for you at some point." You teased.

 "Woman, you better."

 "No worries Ty, you're still my main man; when you're in town."

 "That's right baby, good luck."

 "Thanks for all the info, Ty. We'll catch up soon and good luck in the playoffs."

 You were just about to hang up when you heard him yell. "Don't forget my titty picture."

 All you could do was shake your head and click end call, though you being a woman of your word, you snapped a quick pic and sent it off to him; to which he responded with a drool face emoji.

 The next couple of weeks were a literal whirlwind as you moved into the hotel's presidential suite and got things ready. Beds were moved out so that some rooms that had two queens now had one king in them. The hotel was disinfected from top to bottom. If felt like you were wearing a hazmat suit all the time during this process. A week before the players arrived the NHL staff did, making sure everything was in order and making sure you had things set up for daily COVID testing. Of course, you had everything well in hand and organized per their instructions, though with a few tweaks that made the process more efficient. Overall, they seemed impressed with everything that you had done.

 All that preparation lead up to the big day, July 26th, when the teams moved in. The league had them spread out so that no two teams were checking in at that same time. Tampa Bay was the first in as they traveled the furthest. "You look nervous. Why are you nervous?" Carly's voice came up from behind you as you saw the bus pulling in through the gates.

 "There's a lot riding on this Car, and if anything goes wrong; you know it's going to be my head that rolls."

 "You're going to do great; this whole thing is going to be smooth like a bubble." She started to giggle. "See what I did there…bubble." You rolled your eyes at your friend but did let out a little snort of laughter at her pun. "Well, here they come."

 You straightened your jacket and smoothed down your skirt, before throwing your mask up to go meet your first arrivals. "Gentlemen, welcome to Hotel X." You tried to speak a little louder than normal hoping the mask didn't muffle your words. "We're excited to have you all here. I'm (Y/N) manager here during your stay, anything you need, feel free to call me any time of day." More of the guys filtered in while you spoke to Coach Cooper and a few of the players.

 "Anytime huh?" you heard someone mumble in the background and a couple of the guys snickered. It was hard not to roll your eyes as you knew they were focusing on them with your face partially covered. Someone else said, "She can manage me anytime." That was until someone cleared their throat, effectively silencing them.

 "Now if you'll follow me, let's get you all checked in." Tables lined with a welcome packet and lanyard with their ID on it, were off to the side and you were able to shuffle them through with pretty good speed, then sent them off to their rooms before they had to head to testing. Your information was inside every packet, in case you were needed at any point during their stay. It seemed like you no sooner got them in and the area disinfected then the next team, the Capitals, were pulling in, and so the day went on until all five teams were safely ensconced in the hotel. Thankfully you made it through that process without any problems, even though the Bruins flight was late and the Flyers were pulling in right as you got the last players through.

 It wasn't until dinner, that you encountered your first dilemma, getting a text message from Alexis, who was coordinating the meals. It was a simple message, Get to conference room 3. NOW! As fast as your heels could take you, you headed down to where the Capitals were supposed to be having dinner if you remembered the schedule correctly. You never expected to see what you did though when you entered.

[salty-fang]

Twisted Fate Sugar Edition

Part three (sorry for the long wait) thanks for being patient @loveswifi

Marinette had had a weird day. She had kept being pulled in the direction of people who could’ve been mistaken for male versions of herself. Jason, Tim and Dick.

She had met Jason first. She had taken a quick detour from her hour-long trip to the fabric store. It had been a week after her outing with Gina, Alfred and Bruce Wayne but a week before the whole Lila debacle. She hadn’t expected Lila to even be in Gotham so Marinette didn’t feel the need to worry. She should have.

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

Jason had loads of knowledge on malicious stalking. Growing up as a vigilante taught him some things. So, he was truly stunned when he saw two shady people watched that pregnant woman with wolfish glares that he actually felt the need to follow them. He dragged her out of there line of sight, which without an explanation was pretty stupid. She’d kicked him in the balls causing him to hiss.

“Let go of me.”

“I’m trying to help you. A woman and a man have been watching you for a fucking long time. I just wanted to make sure you knew them. By the way, I’m Jason Todd.”

“Marinette.”

“One of them literally has sausages for hair. I think I’m going to have nightmares for a while.”

“Ugh, you should meet Lila Rossi.”

“Agreste's new wife?”

“Yup. Her eyes are so cold and dead. And she wears so much orange. It’s so painful when you actually look at her that I’d rather stick pins in my eyes.”

“Yo, this chick is the same. You sure we aren’t talking about the same person?” she snuck a quick look around the corner, laughing at the confusion on both Lila and Kim’s faces. She’d laughed too loud as Lila’s head whipped in her direction.

“That’s definitely her. Still as annoying as ever.” Kim had whispered something in Lila's ear just as she rounded the corner. They had started sprinting towards her and were going to catch her if she didn’t move her ass.

‘I can’t run far in heels. I’m going to have to catch a bus. The doctor did tell me to take it easy. Can’t affect those triplets with too much movement.’

She had only made it outside the door when she felt herself be hoisted onto sturdy shoulders.

“Let go of me! Oh it’s you Jay. Give a girl some warning will ya!” she said sighing in exasperation.

“Sorry but you really thought I was going to watch them hurt my little sis.”

“Hey! I’m not little. And put me down. “

“That’s what your focused on? And I won’t put you down. You may think you don’t need help but you’re wrong. So let your good big bro do his job.

“Good my ass,” she muttered, ducking under a signpost. “More like arrogant goofball.” Kim and Lila had either disappeared or they just blended in with the crowd very well. They’d probably lost them. Thank God for that.

“Jay, you can put me down now.”

“Huh, are they gone?”

“Yup.” She said popping the ‘p'. “Thank you Jay. For everything.”

“No worries, pixie pop. You’re my sis. I’d kill a bitch for you.” Marinette had fallen in line with Jason. But with his long strides and her pregnancy she was always steps behind him. Sure he’d fall back to match her pace but Lila had waited until the perfect moment to capitalise. She’d tried to scream for help but she had lost the ability to. They dragged her round the corner to one of her favourite cafés. Her head ached where Lila had pulled tightly on her braid (think Lady Noire) as she felt several strands of her hair fall out. Had no one found her being dragged around slightly disturbing?

She supposed no one cared about business that didn’t affect them in Gotham. Wow. Great, just great. She’d submitted herself fully when another blue-eyed black-haired man had come to her rescue. Seriously, was everyone in Gotham like Jay Jay or had he just been a manifestation of her sleep deprivation. He’d seemed so real, so human but it wouldn’t be the first time her mind would make something so absurd up. It was probably her loneliness acting up again. There was no way any sane person would stay around her for so long.

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

Surprisingly it had been Tim who saved her, though she hadn’t known that. Unsurprisingly, Jay and him had two distinctly different personalities. He lived off coffee, looked twice his age with those bags but had such wit about him that he could manipulate the situation without the other party realising. He had been surrounded by so many coffee cups that she had thought he had been in his final year preparing for exams or perhaps working night shifts every day of the week. But nooooo, he was the co-CEO of a business. Starting at the age of 17. Marinette had felt some of the burden dropped on her and she wasn’t even in his position. No wonder he looked like he needed a pick me up. It was just as well that she’d come equipped with her special coffee. She’d make more for Gina later, he needed it more. Plus, Gigi wouldn’t be back in hours.

“I know you said it was alright to sit with you uhh...”

“Tim.”

“Right, Tim. I don’t want to bother you anymore but that coffee looks like it doesn’t do shit for you. I made some for my grandma but she won’t be back for ages so maybe... you would like it?” Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Of course he won’t want some he probably thinks you’re a weirdo who poisoned his drink. Maybe you can take it back from him? “ on second thought-"

“Sure. Why not?” Ok Tim needs sleep. My God, I could have spiked his drink and he accepted it. He’s so vulnerable like this.

“If I give you my drink it will probably take a minute to kick in but... but you have to promise me that you’ll drink my power down later. If you don’t I’ll find you and I’ll get you to sleep one way or another. Don’t test me.” He gulped, eyes wide as he frantically nodded. “Good. Now would you like some pastries to go with your Marinette’s Super Special?” Her shift in character made him freeze. He couldn’t find his voice quick enough and instead opted for a simple thumbs up. She dug two flasks out of her bag, placing one in front of him and sniffed her own. Then, she brought two plates out, setting out croissants so buttery they made him drool, raspberry macaroons and a dozen mini chocolate chip muffins.

“You look like you needed a sugar rush so I guessed what you might like. Sorry if they’re not your favourites. Now chop chop eat up child!” Tim took a tentative sip of his drink feeling it slip down his throat. It had been just how he liked it yet slightly stronger. And then he felt the kick. It had been so small that his brain glossed over it but it’d been there. He was starting to feel more human again. And it had shown. His face had become less pallid and gaunt, his eyes held a fire that had been previously extinguished and his movements became less robotic, almost lighter. Before Marinette could utter ‘I told you so' everything had vanished. Tim was never usually a messy eater but he definitely was right now. Chocolate was smeared all over his chin , flakes from the croissant had littered around his suit and coffee had spilt on his white polo shirt.

“Beanie,” he muttered, a wild look in his egyptian blue eyes. “Please tell me you’re real. Or I at least died and went to heaven. You’re too sweet not to be in my life. I don’t know how I lived without you before. Please, I need you as my dealer. Your coffee is the only one I’ll ever drink again. Please.”

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

It wasn’t every day you saw Tim Drake beg on his knees and whine. But when you did, you would probably laugh your ass off. Whoever that poor girl was had just attracted the attention of invasive photographers. Unlucky, but at least they would get a show out of it.

“If I give you my coffee you’re not going to sleep. You’re going to be a living zombie and I can’t live with that. I’d rather not have anyone connecting me with your death from excessive tiredness.” Tim knew he had to play dirty if he was going to win. Thankfully, Steph had taught him how to master the art of puppy dog eyes which he aimed at Marinette. He then wrapped his arms around her leg, consequently being dragged along the unsanitary sidewalk to where both their belongings were.

“Please please please please PLEASE.” He noticed Marinette’s will become fragile. He wobbled his bottom lip, sniffling softly. “I’ll stop begging if you say yes. Please beanie.”

“Fine.” She huffed whilst he fist pumped the air. “But we do things on my terms alright?”

“Yes ma’am!”

“Jeez. You’ve given me a headache.” She stated aiming a half-hearted glare at a sheepish Tim. “That’s an achievement, dude, not even Chloé could do that and her tantrums were super bratty.”

He had gone to apologise when shrill ringing rang in the air.

“Sorry,” he mouthed. “ I have to take this.”

“Jason what do you want? You just interrupted my deal with my dealer.”

“ I didn’t know you had it in you. But now isn’t the time. I need you to check security where you are. Pixie pop's gone missing.”

“Pixie pop?”

“I’ll explain later but right now she’s in danger. See you in 5 replacement.” With nothing left to say the line went dead and he decided to run some checks on Jason’s location whilst idly chatting with Marinette. She had asked for his unique insight on her latest design.

“What shade would you use on this? I’m only asking because of your peculiar style.”

“Definitely lavender but towards the bottom fade into a dark purple. And peculiar?”

“Who wears a suit on a hot summers day?” she asked eyebrow raised.

“Me. Batman. Business owners. Cosplayers. Bruce Wayne. The list could go on but I don’t have all day.” He said throwing an exaggerated wink at her.

“None of those people you mentioned are normal except maybe cosplayers so it doesn’t count. Better luck next time. I’m going to go pee.” Tim had opened his mouth to respond when he spotted Jason. He looked terrible. His hair was matted against his forehead with sweat, his eyes were bloodshot.

“I came as soon as I could. What did you find replacement? Spit it out. I don’t have all fucking day.”

“First, I want you to meet me dealer and then we can talk about what happened to ‘pixie' and who they even are.”

“Tim, as much as I’d love to meet your drug buddy, it’ll have to wait. She’s more important. I’m worried that the people who took her are going to seriously harm her.”

“Fine but you’re missing out on meeting the sweetest girl ever.”

“I’ll pass.” Jason snarled before turning back to the pixelated security feed. “That was where I last saw her. That’s weird. It’s like she disappeared from all footage. Do you have any other leads?”

“Jay-Jay?” Marinette barrelled into him locking him in a hug. “How do you know tater-tot?”

“Hey!”

“Sorry little lady but I’m looking for someone. Holy shit, is that you pixie pop?”

“Yup and who you calling little lady? I’m fun sized and could totally whoop your ass if I wasn’t pregnant. Just remember that Jason.” The way she had said his name sent shivers up his spine. She had delivered her sentence as a fact, not a threat.

“That’s why you’re my favourite, pixie pop.” Jason said, tearing up.

“Replacement, how did you even save Marinette?”

“They probably took a look at his half dead state and got scared off.” After an hour of re-introduction, they finally left. Jason drove her back on his motorcycle and dumped Tim’s limp body (from drinking Marinette’s calming chai tea) on his back.

With many hours to kill before Gina would be back from her night shift, she got changed into her gym clothes- a pink shirt with short sleeves and grey shorts- and headed to her local sports centre. Surprisingly, it was Dick who saved her this time

Marinette had been doing light exercise to keep in shape every day since she arrived in Gotham. She had a daily routine of squats, sit ups and weights, moving at her own pace. She had only attended the gym once before this and everyone had been friendly or had just gone about their days. Today was the first day anyone had actually approached her

“Hey sunshine, is it alright if I call you sunshine?” She nodded. “There’s a creepy guy watching you. He hasn’t actually done any workouts but he’s pointing his phone at you for a hell of a long time.”

“Thank you for telling me...”

“Richard but you can call me Dick.” She snickered. “If you want to that is.” Dick walked away to take a quick call from his brother when...

WARNING: YOU MIGHT NOT BE COMFORTABLE READING THIS PART. TW: sexual harassment. I'll put a brief summary at the bottom if you would rather skip

When she felt a firm hand squeeze her ass. She felt it trail down her shorts before she could even look at their face. She leapt away from his grasp, her breathing heavy as she looked around for any support. Unfortunately, the gym was empty, giving the predator an easy advantage.

“Hey baby did anyone tell you you’re damn sexy when you smile? Cuz you definitely are.” he aimed a snide smile at her. His yellow teeth glinted and his heady scent made her sick. “Princess, come back to mine tonight. We could have so much fun together and I’ll make you scream until you forget your own name. So, how about it?” He had approached he, pushing her boundaries, forcing her to back up against the wall.

‘No. Not ever. But especially not today.’

Marinette paled quickly. Gina wouldn’t be home for hours and he would most likely follow her home anyways. With no one to bear witness to this, he could do as he pleased. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. He could seriously hurt her or worse... and there would be nothing she could do about it. She’d just fade into the background, just another statistic. No one would believe her because ‘she shouldn’t have dressed like that’ and ‘she definitely wanted it’. So, she would fight and if he won well so be it. At least she had done all she could.

“Has anyone told you it’s rude to hit on people’s girlfriends?” Dick said forcing himself between them. He knew she could handle it but something about that guy made him uneasy. Marinette had exuded confidence but she still trembled and he could see how tense her muscles had been.

“He’s your boyfriend? You could do so much better than him. Just tell him your coming home with me. Or better yet, I’ll pay you to do it in front of me.” Marinette could see the repulsion on Dick’s face, as she gagged. “Yes, that would be way better. I’ll seriously pay you. Got a couple hundred bucks if you want it.” He stated palming himself through his jeans.

“No thanks. Maybe after she’s given birth?”

“She’s pregnant? What a slut. I bet she poked holes in your condom so you wouldn’t be able to leave her. Anyways, got to get back home to the wife and kids. Hit me up when she’s good again.” Marinette flung her arms around Dick as soon as she was sure he was gone.

Tw over

“Thank you so much. He wouldn't have stopped if you hadn’t come Dick.”

“No problem, sunshine.”

“It’s Marinette.” She mumbled, scuffing her shoes against the gym floor.

“What?”

“The name's Marinette. I would have loved to meet you under different circumstances. Oh well. Nice to meet you anyways.”

“You too Mari. Are you driving back home?”

“I actually walked her. I’ll probably just call a taxi or walk back.”

“No way sunshine. That guy is a huge sleaze ball. I don’t doubt that he’ll try something funny. If no one’s coming to pick you up I’ll walk you back home. Ok?”

“Ok.”

Dick had been completely right. The dude had been waiting outside, most likely waiting for Mari to leave but when he saw them leave together, he raced to his car. Dick had memorized his license plate and got a brief description of the car but he would probably dump it somewhere. Still, no harm in trying. He watched constantly to see if he was following them and took some turns to shake him off. In the end, they had arrived and Dick hadn’t left until he saw her actually enter her apartment. He had to tell everyone about Marinette.

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

Marinette’s battery had been drained, both physically and socially after that week. Lila had pissed her off and she felt really bad for that guy she spewed on. Not like she would see him again. She’d spent all week working on the dress Tim helped her with to wear to her visit to the Wayne’s tomorrow. It had been her fastest completed project ever, though she had neglected eating and sleeping. Marinette had to agree with Tim. The fade into dark purple had been a nice addition and made it really stand out. Even Penny had thought so when she saw it on their chat about commissions. A hungover Jagged threw a ‘rock’n’roll’ over her shoulder and Marinette had felt a pang in her heart at the tenderness they treated each other with. Maybe, one day she could have that special bond with someone too. But she needed to focus on helping herself heal first. She could see the apologetic look written over Penny’s face to which she giggled at before declaring that she needed some rest.

Gina had forced her to rest before they visited the Wayne’s. Apparently today had been Thursday not Wednesday? The days had just blended into one. She had been intrigued to meet the rest of the family but she felt so weak.

‘Oh well,’ she thought. ‘Nothing a little tea can’t fix.’

Since she had found out she was pregnant, all her normal guilty pleasures had been off limits. No double espresso as bitter as her soul and no alcohol. She had to adapt to the restrictions because of her doctor. So, she whipped up a tea as strong as her go to coffee with way less caffeine. It had still her the kick she needed but it wasn’t as good as she would have liked. Still, she’d take what she could get. It still aggravated her when she would reach for a glass of white wine or coffee beans forgetting about the warnings. It aggravated her when she would call out to Tikki to transform forgetting she was no longer by her side. She would toy with her empty earlobes before letting her tears fall freely. Tikki had been the most loyal-kwami or human- and she still got taken. She wouldn’t pretend it hadn’t hurt but she had moved on. Some days she would remember she wasn’t with her and cry but on some she’d pretend everything was normal. Today was one of those days where she wore herself out from crying. Gina had caught her but even she knew Marinette needed space, assuming she was still upset about Adrien.

After a good half an hour of crying, she went to freshen up refusing to look like a puffer fish when she met everyone. Dabbling at her eyes, she applied light mascara and used concealer under her bags so she wouldn’t look as dead as Tim. She slipped into the dress, wearing it with pride. It had fit like a glove exemplifying her curves and showing her protruding baby bump. That had been the only downside as she wanted it to be a surprise. Though, nothing slipped past Alfred’s keen eyes. She’d been puzzled as to how she could style her hair before she settled on voluminous curls. It had required Gina’s help and a hell of a lot of hairspray but it had been worth it. She set her flower crown upon her head (delivered to her by Adrien) and placed one on Gina's. She’d been quite surprised when Gina told her she would have to go by herself but it wouldn’t be too bad. Alfred and Bruce were kind so she could just chat with them if the others were rude.

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

Damian was annoyed. Gina was late. Very late. And he’d been waiting for hours for her to arrive. A soft rap on the door sent him flying out of his seat as he scrambled to unlock the door. He’d expected Gina but on their doorstep was that angel from before.

“You,” he whispered. “Why are you here?” He didn’t like feeling confused so he schooled his features to be cold and cynical. Footsteps behind him caused him to instinctively slam the door shut.

“Sorry angel.” Not that she could hear him. Jason had stood behind him, watching him with curiosity.

“Demon spawn. Who was at the door?” Shit. He couldn’t exactly say how he knew her or his reputation would be tarnished. Everyone in his family knew Todd was the biggest gossiper and he would definitely spread the news. Like hell would he tell Todd. He’d take that secret to his grave.

"It was bArBarA. I mean Gordon. Yeah it was Gordon.” His voice may have cracked several times but it was a convincing lie, right?

“One, you almost never call people by their first names.” Jason said, eyes narrowing slightly. “Two your voice sounded awful. And you don’t stray from perfection. So, what’s your deal?

“Puberty?” He shrugged trying to conceal his panic.

“I’ll take your bullshit for now but you forgot Barbara’s already here. Let’s try this again. Who was at the door?”

“It was that harlot that Grayson suggested I try to court.

“Oh, that bitch. She’s all yours. Just keep her away from me. And Damian when dinner is over, I’ll find you and I’ll kill you. Make no mistake.” And with that, he threw a quick salute over his shoulder and strolled away. Damian had let out a sigh of relief, turning to walk away before he remembered who was still outside.

“Todd tell everyone I went to the bathroom.” He yelled shutting the front door before he could hear his reply. He descended down the stairs only to find her missing. He had begun mapping out all the locations of the manor when his eyes fell upon her. He felt the air forcibly be removed from his lungs and he remained unmoving. Awestruck. His heart squeezed as he watched her sniff his magnolias that he tended to. The way her dress pooled around her and the small but present baby bump had made him flush.

‘She truly was an angel.’ His eyes glanced at the flower crown entangled in her inky locks as the moonlit sky enhanced her celestial look. ‘She’s also much more than that though.’

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer.” She saw his mortified face. “You know getting a door slammed in your face isn’t the greatest first impression a family could give.”

“I’m sorry. But what are you doing here?”

“Expecting a warm welcome, not being left out in the cold, really anything but this. And I don’t even know you so...”

"You do."

"Excuse me?"

"You puked on me. I didn’t think you were going to ever see me again so you surprised me. I didn’t want to explain to anyone how we were acquainted.”

"I’m so sorry. It’s these stupid hormones. And that stupid Lila. Everything is just stupid."

"Lila Rossi? She is pretty stupid.” And then something changed. His face was softer and he hadn’t looked like he would bite her head off. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’m waiting for my grandma but maybe tomorrow. I’m meeting a stuck-up client so I’m gonna need to vent. I’ll tell you the details later?”

“Fine with me.” She hobbled away. She had been patiently waiting by the doorstep, her soft rap probably inaudible due to all the chaos. He whipped out his spare key, unlocking the door. He hadn’t expected that soft click to prompt the attention of his whole family.

"Marinette-"

“Beanie?”

“Pixie pop?”

“Sunshine?”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH DAMIAN?” they screamed, rushing forwards to envelop her in hugs.

“I let her in. You guys didn’t even hear her knocking. Wait, how do you all know Angel?”

His eyes nervously flitted to hers at the slip of his private nickname. He saw the flush on her cheeks as her mouth formed a small ‘o'. She couldn’t even look him in the eyes as the others taunted him for his cute pet name. He felt Dick ruffle his hair, which took a while to style, and Jason poke his sides. He felt Tim snicker and Barbara pinch his cheek. And he felt Marinette link their hands together in solidarity, enduring the teasing with him. They had been so embarrassed that they completely missed the arrival of Gina and the scheming look on Alfred’s face who dished her the gossip. They missed the dark but silent chuckle that left both Gina and Alfred as they decided to meddle in their kids failing love lives.

“What’d I miss, my little chicks? Because Mama’s home.”

NOTES (optional)

In the part labelled with tw here is what happens:

Creepy old 50 year old man hits on Marinette and feels her up. He asks her to come home with him but Dick helps her out and stops him. He tells them he would pay to watch them go at it and calls Marinette names. He eventually 'leaves' to his wife and kids.

Tags:

@sassakitty @lunathealphafemale @krispydefendorpolice @blackmagicforever @nach0ava @wannajointhecrabcult @thornalchemist23 @moonlightstar64 @iloveitwhen @little-angel1031 @screwthisshit111 @rebecarojas07 @animegirlweeb @mystery-5-5 @moonystars14 @gingerdaile @spyofthenightcourt @mialuvscats @notmycupoftea26 @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @kuroko26 @miracleofadisaster @novicevoice @iloontjeboontje @abrx2002

[lostinthewiind]

Hi i was just wondering if u can do a fanfic where y/n is having a bad day like a really bad day with tsukishima, sakusa and who ever you want. You can ignore this or if u dont want to do this. Ty

HAIKYUU BOYS WHEN YOU’RE HAVING A BAD DAY

A/N: Ohhh, my very first Haikyuu request! I’m gonna write this right now even though I probably should be last-minute reviewing for my nutrition final this afternoon (don’t worry, I’ve been studying since I woke up so a little break is okay . . . right?) I hope you like what I’ve written since this is my first time writing with a multiple-character format (I’ve found the Haikyuu fics are usually formatted differently than other fandom fics so I’m still adjusting)

Characters: Tsukishima, Sakusa, Ushijima

Rating: PG

Warnings: None

【TSUKISHIMA】

Because he is so quiet most of the time (except when he is being a little snark-master), he is very astute regarding the emotions of people around him, so he immediately knows when you’ve had a bad day

He can tell by the way you shuffle your feet or close your locker just a little bit more roughly than usual

Since Tsukki has more experience with putting people into bad moods rather than helping them get out of them, he is sort of at a loss for what to do, but he is slowly getting better

His go-to move is to offer to hang out with you after school since he knows you don’t like talking about your problems in front of people, so he’s hoping you will open up a little bit if it’s just the two of you

If that doesn’t work, he will plop his headphones over your ears, blast some of the music that he knows you like, and drape his volleyball jacket over your head and shoulders so you can be somewhere dark where you don’t have to feel like everyone has their eyes on you

It wasn’t really one single thing that had put you in a bad mood that day, but rather a series of small events that had piled up and eventually brought you to your breaking point. With feet that felt heavy like lead and your head hung low, you made your way to the designated meeting spot where Tsukki would meet you after his practice was over and plopped down to wait for him.

As soon as you felt the grass beneath you, the sun shining down on you, and the overwhelming sensation of finally being completely alone, you let out an exasperated sigh and began plucking at the blades of grass between your fingers, willing yourself to at least try to hold out on crying until you got home.

Before long, you had become so distracted by pulling out the blades of grass one at a time and tossing them into the breeze, you didn’t notice Tsukki had joined you until you felt a light, soft weight on your shoulders. You instantly knew that Tsukki had draped his volleyball jacket over you.

Looking up, you forced a small smile. “You’ll get cold.” You moved to shrug the jacket off and hand it back since Tsukki was in just a T-shirt. Before you could, however, he stopped you and sat down beside you.

“Bad day?” he asked even though he already knew the answer. You nodded slowly as he repositioned the jacket tighter around you. “Wanna talk about it?” You shook your head.

“It’s just one of those days,” you told him, trying more to convince yourself than him. “I’ll be okay. Just need to cool off a little.”

Instead of responding, Tsukki pulled his headphones out of his bag and placed them gently onto your head. Seconds later, a song that you had sent him just the other day started playing just loud enough that you could still hear Tsukki talking beside you. 

“Let me know if I can do anything,” he said, wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulders.

You smiled again, this time not forced, and continued ripping out the grass around you. No matter how flustered he got when it came to taking care of others, your big, blonde middler blocker always tried his hardest, and that would always be good enough for you. 

“Thanks, Tsukki,” you just barely whispered, and even though you couldn’t hear it over the music, Tsukki could hear it clear-as-day. 

【SAKUSA】

Sakusa is the master of handling bad days

Unfortunately, he hasn’t quite caught on yet that the things that work for him don’t always work for everyone else

He is quick to jump into action when he learns that you’re having a bad day because he knows how much they suck, but sometimes he gets so wrapped up in trying to help you feel better that he completely misses the mark on what you need

Always says he will try to do better next time but always ends up forgetting again

You could never stay mad at him though because you know he means well

As soon as you had shown up on Sakusa’s doorstep with that characteristic combination of pout and grimace on your face that indicated you had had a bad day, he was quick to sweep you into the house and settle you onto the couch.

“Sakusa, I-” You chuckled lightly as he wrapped a large blanket around your shoulders and promptly took off toward the kitchen to make you a cup of tea, completely ignoring your attempt to talk to him.

Knowing this act all too well, you simply sat back and resigned yourself to your fate for the next hour or so of non-stop babying from your loving boyfriend. Besides, in the grand scheme of things, you could have had it a lot worse—you could have had a boyfriend that didn’t care about you or your emotions at all. While his actions were definitely extreme, at least they were the good type of extreme and not the bad type.

Having had closed your eyes in order to try to calm yourself down a bit, you jolted a little when the sound of a tea mug being placed on the table in front of you pulled you from your thoughts. 

“Thank you.” You turned toward the boy with wide eyes and black curls hanging in his face beside you, patiently waiting for you to ask for whatever else you needed so he could jump up and get it for you. “You can relax now, I’m okay,” you told him.

“Are you sure there isn’t anything else you need?” He was so on-edge that you could practically see him vibrating before your very eyes.

Sighing softly, you placed a gentle hand on his shoulder to calm him down a little. “Actually, there is something else.” You leaned forward and wrapped your arms around him, tackling him into the couch before he could say another word. “I need you. Just hold me please.” 

After getting over the initial shock of being pushed into the soft couch cushions, Sakusa reciprocated the hug and held you close. “Your tea will get cold,” he whispered into your ear.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s okay. I’m sure you can make me another one if that happens.”

He smiled down at you, finally having realized he was being too-doting and forced himself to take it down a notch or five. “Anything you want.”

【USHIJIMA】

I’m sure this comes as no surprise, but this man is just GOD-AWFUL at picking up on other people’s emotions

It’s not his fault, and oh goodness the poor boy tries his hardest, but he is just so oblivious

You are well-aware that he requires you to physically tell him that you are in a bad mood, but sometimes all you want is to curl up into a ball and have him come to you on his own accord

This almost never happens, however, and you’re almost completely convinced that the few times it did was nothing more than a fluke

Even a broken clock is right twice a day

Once he KNOWS you’re in a bad mood, he is an excellent care-taker

Prefers to talk about problems rather than try to distract you from them, and even though sometimes you just want him to hug you and kiss you and tell you everything is okay, you prefer this method in the long-run

Ushijima is an amazing listener and gives great advice (helps you figure out how you want to solve a problem instead of telling you what to do, but does it so smoothly and effortlessly that you don’t even notice)

Shuffling your way over to where Ushijima was sitting on the couch, homework in front of him and attention completely focused on the work at hand, you felt bad about interrupting him but knew that if you didn’t tell him now, you never would and then the poor boy would wonder why you were sulking by yourself all night long.

Clearing your throat, you waited for him to look up at you before speaking. “Just letting you know that I had a bad day today and that I am now in a bad mood.”

Ushijima nodded, silently thanking you for telling him. “Was it something I did?” he asked. 

You shook your head as you hugged your hoodie (well, Ushijima’s hoodie, but he hadn’t gotten a chance to wear it once since you had laid claim to it) tighter around your body. “No. Just a bad day.” You shrugged. 

Closing the textbook he had been reading and placing it beside himself on the couch, he wordlessly reached out to you and pulled you into his lap. “What happened?”

You huffed and buried your head into the crook of his neck. “Don’t wanna talk about it.” You pressed a soft kiss to his neck, hoping it would distract him from forcing you to talk about what was going on. Of course, however, it didn’t. Once Ushijima had his mind set on something, it was impossible to get him off track.

“Hey.” He gently cupped your face with his large hand and forced you to look up at him. “You can’t solve a problem if you don’t confront it head-on.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you groaned. “I know, but can’t you just hold me and tell me everything will be okay . . . just this once?”

Ushijima just rolled his eyes. “What happened?” he repeated.

Slumping your shoulders in defeat, you deflated. “I got a bad grade on a test that I studied really hard for.”

“Why?”

You shot him a dumbfounded look. “I have no idea! If I knew why I was so bad at studying, I probably wouldn’t be in this current predicament!”

Ushijima just ignored your outburst and cocked a thick eyebrow at you, still waiting for a response to his previous question.

Knowing that there was no way you were going to win this, you finally submitted and resigned yourself to his line of questioning. “I don’t know . . . maybe I was focusing on the wrong stuff? I think I have trouble picking out the important information from the less important stuff.”

“There you go. See? You’re smarter than you think you are.” He flashed a hint of a smile as encouragement. “And how could you solve this problem for the future?”

You thought for a moment. “Pay more attention to the stuff that the teacher repeats a lot and puts more emphasis on?” your voice wavered slightly, a little unsure of your answer.

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“Telling you,” you replied with more confidence.

Ushijima nodded, an even bigger smile spreading across his face. “I think that’s a great plan!” He then squished you into his chest and pressed a big kiss onto the top of your head. “Now I can hold you and tell you that everything will be okay because it will. You’ve got a plan to make sure of that.”

Unable to deny that you did, in fact, feel a whole lot better about the situation now that you had a definitive plan to deal with it, you exhaled and let the tension fade away. 

Thank goodness you had him to ground you when you needed it the most. 

[kinglazrus]

Crystal Heart

Phic phight 2020

Submitted by @that-dumbass-on-a-horse: Ghost sickness. Maddie and Jack try to fix it, but make it worse instead

Summary: When a ghost boy becomes a ghost man, his body goes through certain changes. And when his parents find out and try to help him, they inevitably almost kill him in the process. Almost.

Warnings: non-graphic body horror (melting)

Word count: 7248

I had to look up pictures of blood cells under a microscope and that was actually super cool. I love it when fanfiction involves fun research

As soon as Maddie saw the green flush on Danny's cheeks, she knew what it was. Some dastardly ectoplasmic pathogen from the Ghost Zone had infected her baby boy. It must have been from all the time he spent in the lab. Too many times, Maddie had caught him sneaking up from the basement with a sheepish look on his face. Occasionally, Sam and Tucker were with him. Maddie would have to get them tested for whatever illness currently afflicted Danny.

"I'm telling you, I feel fine," Danny said, looking anything but fine. He lay in bed, cheeks flushed an unearthly green. Sweat shone on his forehead.

"Good try, mister. Maybe I'll believe you when you stop covering your mouth like you have to puke," Maddie chastised her son. Standing with her hand on her hip, she shook her head. She had heard of teens faking illness to get out of school; it was so touching to know her boy wasn't like that.

"Mom, really, I'm fine," Danny insisted. He covered his mouth as he spoke, earning a very pointed glare from Maddie.

"I've already called the school. They know you're staying home today. Don't worry, your father and I will get you fixed up."

Panic and desperation filled Danny's eyes. It warmed Maddie's heart to see it. Who knew he cared so much about his classes? With how his grades had been dropping over the past year, she thought he had given up on school.

After pinning Danny with one last stern look, Maddie left his room and headed down to the kitchen. There should be a few packages of chicken noodle soup in the pantry for her to make. They usually kept a well-stocked supply dry soups, pastas, and other side dishes for the days dinner came to life. Maddie scanned the shelves, dragging her fingers across the various boxes, and grinned when she found the one she wanted. Pulling it out, she saw there was only one package left. It looked like they would need to restock soon.

Maddie quickly set to work making the soup, throwing the mixture of noodles and powder into a pot of water, turning the stove on low to simmer, and setting the oven timer to remind herself when to check it. With that done, she headed down to the lab.

Jack was hunched over his workstation, beakers laid out on the counter in front of him. Bubbling mixtures of various consistencies and colours filled the beakers, steam rising from more than a few even though they weren't set over heat.

"Danny's staying home today," she told Jack. "I think he caught a ghost bug."

"No son of mine is gonna get taken down but a ghost! I'll squash it like a fly!"  declared.

Maddie smiled fondly and shook her head. "No, Jack. Not a bug ghost, a ghost bug. He's sick."

"Oh. Well, we'll squash that sickness anyway! And then we'll squash the ghost that gave it to him! And then we'll squash Phantom!"

"You said it, honey!" She kissed Jack on the cheek before heading to her own station. Taking a test sample kit out from the cupboard, she pulled out a Fenton Swab and a Fenton Tube. They were nearly identical to the standard cotton swab and sample tube they were modelled after, except the Fenton versions were designed to withstand ectoplasm's acidic properties. They also had the word Fenton on them.

"Whatcha doing, Mads?" Jack asked, briefly looking up from his work.

"I want to rule out environmental factors. Danny spends so much time down here, and he never wears a jumpsuit since his got misplaced. We need to make sure the portal doesn't contain any contagions that could make others sick," she explained. Sticking her thumb against the DNA scanner, she opened the portal doors.

Green light spilled over the lab floor, rippling over the metal panels. Carefully, Maddie took the Fenton Swab and stuck it in the portal's swirling mass. It wasn't like sticking something in water. The ectoplasm in the portal had no resistance. Even though it looked opaque from afar, up close it more resembled a colourful mist. Swirling her hand around, she dragged the swab through the ectoplasm, coating it thoroughly.

It was mesmerizing. Despite how long she and Jack had studied ectoplasm for, she still didn't understand how its state of matter worked. It could go from solid to gas in an instant, or hang in the air like a fog and become liquid the moment it touched something. Sometimes it took minutes to dissipate, other times it took hours. There were so many contradicting circumstances, it was fascinating.

Perhaps ectoplasm was its own state of matter that couldn't be defined by Earthly physics.

Maddie waited until ectoplasm was practically dripping off the cotton end before pulling her hand back out, dropping the swab into the sample tube. Analyzing it would be easy enough. They had studied samples from the portal before, but ectoplasm's most consistent trait was how inconsistent it was. You could take two ectoplasmic samples from a single entity one week apart and their surface properties would be completely different.

The one core characteristic was a unique pattern of crystallization, visible with careful observation under a microscope. Each ghost seemed to have their own pattern. In some cases, they were highly personal. The ghost who liked to shout about boxes all the time had a square crystallization pattern.

If she could isolate the ectoplasm making Danny sick, she could compare the pattern with the portal and see if they matched. If they did, then she could study the rest of the portal sample and see what was making Danny sick.

Maddie tapped her foot as she placed a drop of ectoplasm on a slide and put it under the microscope, setting the rest of the sample aside for later testing.

"No need for that!"

Maddie paused just before putting her eye to the lens, turning to face Jack instead.

He grinned widely at her, holding out one of the beakers from his desk. "I've got our solution right here!" He wiggled the beaker. The thick purple substance inside barely jiggled. "It's the newest version of ecto-dejecto. This time, it actually works."

Reaching out, Jack took the sample Maddie had put aside. He stuck the swab into the purple goo; it stayed standing upright when he let go. The goo around the swab hissed and steamed.

"Is it supposed to do that?" Maddie asked.

"Uh, maybe?"

Green bubbles bloomed across the top layer of goo, quickly expanding upward. Jack yelped and dropped the beaker as the ectoplasm foamed over his hand. The beaker shatterd as soon as it hit the ground, glass shards going flying. The goo kept expanding, fizzing and frothing as it changed from purple to green, growing until it was a mound as big as a medium sized dog. With a few final hisses, the ectoplasm settled.

"It doesn't work yet, but it will," Jack said, confidence unshaken.

"I know it will," Maddie said. She had complete faith in her husband. Jack might bumble around sometimes, but his mind was truly brilliant. Where other people looked at things and saw only what was on the surface, Jack saw everything. He always excelled more on the chemistry side of things, even if he had a few mishaps every now and then.

It's what made them such a good team. Maddie handled the math, physics, and most of the weapon construction while Jack handled the ideas. She brought his head out of the clouds when he went too far. He raised her up so she could see all the possibilities and push them farther.

"Well, hey, I've got more ectoplasm to test with now," Jack said. He bent down and prodded the quivering mass.

In the silence, Maddie heard the oven beeping upstairs.

"Oh, shoot, Danny's soup." Maddie leapt out of her seat. She snatched a spare swab and sample tube from the counter and took off for the stairs. "Don't forget to clean up the glass!" She tossed the words over her shoulder, hoping Jack heard her.

On the stove, the pot was boiling over. Water hissed as it doused the element, steam and smoke clouding over the stove. Maddie grabbed a tea towel and shoved the pot off the element, accidentally splashing more water out.

"Oh, no," she grumbled, shutting off the stove. She took in the mess with a defeated sigh. There was more soup on the counter than there was in the pot. The timer must have gone off some time ago, or she had set it for too long. Tossing the tea towel over the spilled soup, she left it there to soak up some of the mess and went to the fridge instead, hoping they had something she could give Danny.

Her prospects were slim. Some questionable lunch meat that was about to expire. A door full of condiments. A ceramic pot that rattled every few seconds. Its lid was tied down to keep the reanimated fruit cocktail from escaping. Overall, the fridge was woefully empty. Maddie really needed to go grocery shopping.

She ended up taking a carton of orange juice from the door, pouring a glass, and decided Danny would have to settle for this until she came back from the store.

"Danny, sweetie?" Maddie asked, gently knocking on his door. It creaked open. Peeking inside, she saw his empty bed. A clatter from the bathroom drew her attention. "Oh, Danny." She shook her head, setting the glass of orange juice down on his dresser, and headed down the hall.

The door was shut. Soft white light shone underneath it, not nearly as bright as it should have been. One of the lights above the mirror must have burnt out again. Gently, she knocked and called Danny's name.

"Uh, just a minute!" Danny said.

The light under the door flared, then settled. Maddie heard the toilet flushing, followed by a quick burst of water from the tap. Finally, the knob turned, the lock clicking out of place, and Danny eased the door open. He kept one hand over his mouth.

"Hey, Mom. What brings you here?" he asked. Behind his palm, Maddie saw his lips twitch into a smile.

"You do, young man. I told you to stay in bed," Maddie said, crossing her arms.

"Bathroom. Had to go. You know how it is," Danny said. Using his elbow, he bumped the door open wider, his other hand pressed against his head. He squeezed past Maddie and shuffled backward toward his room. "But bed sounds like a great idea. In fact, I think I'll have a nap. No need to check on me or anything. You don't even need to open the door!"

He chuckled weakly, sidling into his room, and kicked the door shut.

Maddie wasn't sure what to make of all that. Danny hadn't even shut off the bathroom light. Reaching through the doorway to do just that, she noticed something odd. The toilet lid was down. Danny had the habit of leaving it up, no matter how much she reminded him not to. It was a small detail, but an curious one nonetheless. She decided not to dwell on it. More than likely, he was finally starting to build up the habit.

Maddie was halfway down the stairs when she remembered she needed a spit sample from Danny. Heading back up, she paused on the landing when she heard Danny talking, voice low.

"I don't know what's wrong." He sounded panicked. "I've only been awake for a couple hours but it's getting worse."

Maddie stopped. Instead of pushing Danny's door open, she crept forward, holding her ear against it. While she would never let Danny get away with eavesdropping, as his concerned mother, she had the right to listen in on his conversation.

"I don't know. My mouth was kind of hurting yesterday, but that's a whole other thing, right?"

There was a moment of silence.

"Tucker! I'm being serious here! First it was the blush, and then it was my hair." Maddie frowned at that. "What's next? My eyes?"

Danny's dresser rattled—she hoped he saw the orange juice—and he groaned. "Yep, it's the eyes now!"

Maddie really should go in there. Her baby was clearly panicking and needed her help.

"I don't care about my teeth!"

In a minute. She would go in, in a minute.

"Ugh, fine, whatever." Maddie heard Danny shuffling around, drawers opening and closing. It lasted for a full thirty seconds before he spoke again. "Okay, I got it. Happy now?" His words slurred slightly, as if he wasn't closing his mouth all the way.

Deciding enough was enough, Maddie pushed the door open without knocking. "Sorry, Danny, I forgot that I... needed..." The excuse died on her lips as she got a good look at Danny.

Green swirled in his eyes and a white streak cut through his hair. Danny spit out the large Saturn pendant of his chewable necklace and whispered into his phone. "Tucker, I got to go." Tossing his phone back into his bed, he stepped forward and raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Mom, I can explain."

"Oh, my poor baby, you're so much worse than I thought," Maddie said. She rushed forward, taking Danny's face in her hands, and turned his head to the side so she could examine the streak in his hair. His bangs were white from root to tip. Using her thumb and forefinger, she pulled his eye open wide and examined his iris.

It looked like the infection was spreading. She thought it was a simple case of contamination, but that wouldn't do this. The green blush, yes, but changing his hair and eyes? Altering his physical and chemical makeup? This was serious.

"I'm sorry, Danny. Your nap has to wait. You're coming down to the lab with me now." Taking Danny by the wrist, Maddie pulled him out of his room.

"It's really not what you think!" Under his breath, he added, "I hope it's not what I think, either."

"Danny, your father and I are experts. Whatever you think it is, it isn't. Your dad is working on a cure right now. But at the rate this is accelerating, I can't let you out of my sight. I have to check all your vitals and keep detailed notes about how this progresses," Maddie said. "This is nothing like the ghost flu your father and I had."

"I still say that was just a regular flu."

"Now is not the time for your sass." Maddie dragged Danny all the way down to the lab.

Glass no longer littered the floor, although the blob of ectoplasm still sat beside Maddie's chair. Pulling the chair out, she pushed Danny into the seat and wheeled him across the lab to the medical station. Setting him out of the way in the hollow of the safety shower, Maddie opened the cupboard beneath the eyewash station and pulled out what she needed.

Beyond the run of the mill first-aid kit, the lab had a few tools you would find in a standard health clinic.

Danny squirmed and tried to leave his seat a few times, but Maddie kept pushing him back down. She didn't let him stand until she had taken his vitals, checked his eyes, nose, and throat, and gave him a thorough physical exam.

"Mom!" Danny whined when Maddie lifted shirt. She ignored him, looking over his body for signs of discolouration. There weren't any, yet. She suspected it was only a matter of time.

"Jack, how's that ecto-dejecto coming?" she asked.

"Almost got it!"

"Ecto-dejecto?" Danny paled.

Maddie sent him a reassuring smile. "It's okay. We're fixing the recipe so that it destabilizes the ectoplasm rather than makes it stronger. It will make it easier for your body to flush out the toxins." Her eyes dropped to the pendant around Danny's neck, his conversation with Tucker returning to mind. "What was Tucker talking about with your teeth?"

She had only spared them a brief glance when checking Danny's through, more concerned with hidden rashes or pustules.

"You were spying on me?" Danny's cheeks flushed in anger. "So not cool!"

"Danny, I'm your mother and I'm worried about you. You're sick."

"I'm fine! That doesn't make it okay to spy on me."

"You'll understand when you're older."

Danny tipped his head back and groaned.

"Now, open your mouth."

Danny squinted at her, which earned him nothing but a motherly glare. Stubborn but relenting, he slowly opened his mouth. Maddie rolled her eyes at her son's antics. Once his mouth was open wide enough, she checked his teeth. Nothing looked out of the ordinary.

"What's bothering you about them?" she asked. The hair and eyes were undoubtedly ghost-related matters. So far, Maddie was inclined to agree with Danny that his mouth pains were simply a coincidence.

"My gums just started hurting yesterday. Like there was a lot of pressure or something," Danny explained.

"And the necklace?"

"Chewing on something kind of helped, I guess. That was the first time I tried it, but it felt okay."

Something about that resonated with Maddie. She leaned back, frowning. It sounded like what happened when children teeth. When Danny was a baby growing in his teeth for the first time, he chewed on everything to make it stop hurting. Maddie had to throw out so many of his stuffed animals because he chewed on them until they were too dirty to keep.

"Can you pull your lips down?"

Danny obliged, raising his chin so Maddie could get a better look. The gums looked fine, no bumps or bulges, and his teeth were still in line.

"Top lip," she said.

Hooking his finger under his lip, Danny pulled it up. Maddie's eyes widened immediately. On the left side, between his canine tooth and lateral incisor, the sharp tip of a new tooth poked out of his gums. It looked like it was growing over his other teeth.

"You have an extra tooth," she declared.

"A what?" Danny shouted. He ran his fingers along his top teeth, pausing to feel the new one growing in.

"It's fine," Maddie said, waving off his concern. "Your father had one growing behind his incisor in college. He just had to get it removed. It's not related to whatever this," she gestured to his hair and eyes, "is."

"Oh." Danny deflated, looking relieved, although he didn't take his finger out of his mouth. He kept touching the new tooth. Swivelling in the chair, he leaned toward the wall, examining his reflection in the shining surface.

"Mads! I did it!" Jack's heavy steps thudded across the lab as he pounded over.

Content that Danny was occupied and wouldn't slip away the second she took her eyes off him, Maddie focused on Jack. He bounced on his heels, holding out a test tube filled to the brim with a yellow-tinged liquid.

"It's all about using the ectoplasm's natural properties against itself. If we can lock it in a liquid state, the ectoplasm loses hold of its form and liquifies! Just watch." He scurried back to Maddie's workstation.

With a careful tip of his hand, he poured a single drop of ecto-dejecto on the solidified ectoplasm. Sickly yellow patches spread across its surface. The ectoplasm started breaking down. Sloughing off in chunks, layer upon layer melted away, dripping down to the floor until only a wide green puddle remained.

"It's perfect! Pass me the syringe."

Jack got the needle ready in record time. Maddie wasn't concerned about giving Danny the ecto-dejecto without doing trials on living creatures first. Anti-ectoplasmic agents, by their very nature, did not harm living tissue. They isolated and attacked ectoplasm and ectoplasm alone. For this reason, anti-ghost weaponry was completely harmless to humans. Ghost shields, ghost guns, none of them could hard people.

It was also was the very same reason why Maddie and Jack did not have strict rules barring Danny and Jazz from the lab. They wanted their children to be curious. What better way to promote an interest in science then let them explore it in a safe manner with chemicals and compounds that would not harm them?

Danny was still examining his reflection, although he was probing something on the right side of his mouth instead.

Maddie pushed up his t-shirt sleeve. "Hold still, sweetie," she said, and stabbed his shoulder with the needle. Pressed the plunger, she injected him with the ecto-dejecto.

"Ow!" Danny flinched, jerking around to face Maddie. His gaze caught on the needle in her hand. "What was that?"

"Don't worry, you'll be all better by tomorrow," Maddie assured him.

"No, really." Danny stood up. He swayed, careening into the wall, and gasped. Staring down at his hands, he flexed his trembling fingers. "Seriously." He looked up at Maddie, helpless. "What was that?"

His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed.

"Danny!" Maddie dropped to her knees beside him, Jack joining her a second later. Panic overwhelmed her. That shouldn't have happened. The ecto-dejecto was perfect. It should have worked flawlessly. Instead, Danny's skin around the injection site was quickly turning a dark, sickly green. His breathing was shallow, and his eyelids fluttered.

Pressing two fingers to Danny's neck, Maddie felt his pulse, erratic. What happened? What went wrong? What did Maddie do? She couldn't shake the feeling that she had just sent Danny to his grave.

"Mads." Jack's voice snapped her out of her spiralling thoughts. "We need to get him to the hospital. I'll carry him up to the RV. You call Jazz. We'll get her taken out of school."

"Right. Right." Maddie nodded, swallowing thickly. She had never been more thankful to have Jack by her side. Right when her vision started narrowing and all she could see was one outcome—Danny dead, Maddie his murderer—Jack was there to pull her up.

Moving back, she gave Jack room to gather Danny up. Jack was a big man, with thick arms and heavy-looking hands, but he cradled Danny so gently, as if he was a baby again.

"See the big picture, focus on the little steps," Jack said.

"Big picture, little steps," Maddie repeated. The words rang out in her head, over and over like a mantra. Big picture, little steps. Saving Danny, calling Jazz. Her phone was at her workstation. While Jack carried Danny upstairs, Maddie sprinted over to her station, snagging her phone off the counter. She easily found the number for Casper High.

"Casper High, this is Connie Burjan."

"H–hello Ms. Burjan." Maddie took a deep breath and smoothed out her voice. "This is Madeline Fenton, calling for Jasmine Fenton. I'm her mother."

"What can I do for you?"

"There's an emergency and we need to pull Jazz out of school. She needs to be with her family right now."

"Of course. I'll call her to the principal's office. I hope everything will be alright."

Maddie gave a rueful grin. "So do I." She hung up and headed upstairs.

Jack already had Danny in the back of the RV, laid out on one of the benches. He looked so small curled up on his side, shaking and shivering. Seeing him like that sent a surge of loathing through Maddie. She did this.

"You take Danny to the hospital. I'll pick up Jazz," Jack said, motioning to the little-used family car.

"No, we can't," Maddie said. She cursed softly. "We never got the transmission fixed."

They used the car so little. It was a relic from days past, the same vehicle Jack had in college. These days, they preferred the RV both because of its size and its ghost defenses.

"We pick up Jazz on the way," Jack said.

Maddie didn't want Jazz to see her brother this way, but she nodded anyway. They could leave Jazz at school for the rest of the day, but that didn't feel right. The whole family needed to be together.

Jack climbed into the back with Danny, sitting on the floor rather than the bench opposite his, while Maddie got in the front seat. Starting the car, she practically tore out of the garage, ripping through the back alley behind their house. She may have been a less hazardous driver than Jack, but she was just as fast.

"It's okay. You're gonna be okay," Jack whispered. Looking in the rear-view mirror, Maddie saw him running his hands through Danny's hair in a soothing gesture. It reminded her of when Danny was little. He used to get sick so easily, stuck at home for days on end with a cold or flu. One of them would sit with him until he fell asleep, reading books about astronomy and brushing his hair like Jack was doing now.

Maddie's grip on the steering wheel tightened. This was nothing like back then. The bruise on Danny's arm had spread, a spotty discolouration taking over the whole limb.

When they got to the school, Jazz was already waiting outside, standing on the front steps. She ran up the sidewalk the second the RV came into view, bounding toward the vehicle. Jack threw the door open for her.

"What happened? Ms. Burjan didn't say," Jazz said. Her gaze fell to Danny. She paled, cupping her mouth. "Danny!"

She clambered into the car, leaving Jack to shut the door again, and immediately knelt in front of her brother. Her hands hovered over him before she touched his forehead, feeling his temperature. "What happened?" she asked.

"He was sick. Some kind of ghost sickness. We– I gave him ecto-dejecto to flush it out," Maddie explained shakily. She couldn't meet her daughter's eyes.

Jazz stared down at Danny. Gnawing on her thumbnail, she kept swivelling her head back and forth, glancing between Danny, Jack, and Maddie. She looked conflicted.

"Jazz?" Jack asked, seeing the same indecision as Maddie.

"You can't take him to the hospital," Jazz said. She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Danny, and pulled him into a protective embrace.

"Jasmine! Your brother needs a doctor!" Maddie said.

"No, you don't understand!" Jazz shook her head vigorously. "You can't take him, they'll– they'll find out."

"Find out what?" Jack asked.

She bit her lip, holding Danny closer. Whispering an apology in Danny's ear, she raised her head and glared defiantly at Maddie and Jack. "They'll find out Danny's not human!"

Maddie slammed her foot on the breaks. Jack's arms shout out to brace himself on the sides of the RV. Jazz yelped, sliding forward, and curled around Danny to protect him as he fell halfway off the bench.

Panting, Maddie turned around and stared at Jazz. "He's what?" she asked.

Jazz shifted, putting herself between Danny and Maddie, as if he needed protecting from her. "He's not human," she repeated. "He's... his accident. It did something to him." Shaking her head, she continued, "If you take him to the hospital, they'll report him. It's in that stupid ecto act the G.I.W. have. Any cases of ecto-contamination need to be reported so they can take care of it."

Maddie's mind refused to process that information. She heard it, loud and clear, but she couldn't comprehend it. Of course Danny was human. He was her son, her baby boy, her flesh and blood. She brought him into this world. To say he wasn't human was just ridiculous. Impossible. No accident could change someone that much. No accident could take away someone's humanity.

The streak in Danny's hair stood out, glaringly bright, against his dark locks. The bruising had spread to his neck now. It would only be a matter of minutes before it touched his cheeks, too.

"Jazz, what happened to Danny?" Maddie was afraid of the answer.

"I can't tell you," Jazz whispered. "It's not my secret. I already said too much. But anything that could help him? None of that is going to be at the hospital. If ecto-dejecto did this to him, he doesn't need human medicine."

Maddie paled.

"Jazzypants," Jack said softly, reaching out.

Jazz scooted back, taking Danny with her. "We have to go back home. And you have to promise me. You have promise that, no matter what you find out, you won't hurt Danny."

"Jazz–"

"Promise!"

"We promise," Maddie said.

"Okay." Jazz nodded. "Okay. Let's get Danny home."

Facing forward, Maddie turned the RV around.

—

The couch was hardly sanitary. Jack and Maddie had to carry it in from the garage, and it was covered in dust. Maddie told Jazz as much, but her daughter refused to let them put Danny on the examination table.

"I can't let him wake up like that, lying there, with you looking over him," Jazz said. "It's his worst nightmare."

It broke Maddie's heart to hear that.

Jazz sat with Danny, his head in her lap. She had taken Jack's place stroking his hair. Maybe that was for the best. Based on what Jazz said, Danny wouldn't react well to either Maddie or Jack being the first face he saw if we woke up.

When, Maddie corrected herself. When he wakes up.

The couch sat all the way across the lab, as far from Maddie and Jack as it could get. Not to keep Danny away from them, but because they hadn't cleaned up the puddle of ectoplasm on the floor yet. It was a medical hazard, not to mention an accident waiting to happen, but they had other things to focus on right now.

Maddie forced herself to look away from her children, a heartfelt scene, and turned back to her microscope. She had a sample of Danny's blood underneath it and was looking for signs of crystallization. If she wanted to treat him right, she needed to know just how ghostly he was, and if he was even sick in the first place.

Danny himself said he didn't know what was going on.

Zooming in forty times, one hundred times, four hundred times, Maddie scowled in frustration. She could see his blood cells, but she couldn't see any crystallization. It didn't make sense.

"Anything, Jack?" Maddie asked, pulling back from the lens.

Jack, sitting beside her, leaned forward and scrutinized the computer screen. It was plugged in to the microscope, showing the same view Maddie saw of the sample. He shook his head.

"I don't get it. It should be there," he said.

Maddie nodded. Switching out Danny's sample for the ectoplasm from the portal, she shifted closer to Jack and scoured the screen. The image was blindingly bright. Unlike human blood, which could be seen as individual cells when you looked close enough, ectoplasm remained one solid mass no matter how far you zoomed in. The only thing that seemed to change was how large the crystallization lines were.

In the portal's sample, they swirled together in spiral patterns. It mimicked the way the ectoplasm moved in the portal itself.

Maddie wondered how that worked. Other ghosts had some form of conscience that seemed to influence and be influenced by their ectoplasm, resulting in unique patterns. The portal, however, had no consciousness. Perhaps all ambient ectoplasm from the Ghost Zone would bear an identical pattern. It was something they would have to look into, once Danny was fine.

Staring at the bright screen too long hurt Maddie's eyes. She was forced to look away, rubbing spots out of her vision. There had to be something they were missing.

Jack drummed his fingers on the table and hummed.

"What is it?" Maddie asked.

"Ectoplasm isn't blood," he said.

Maddie blinked, confused. "Yes?"

"So, why are we looking at Danny's blood like it's ectoplasm?"

Maddie blinked again. Her thoughts snapped into place. "Of course!" she shouted. She switched the ectoplasm with Danny's sample once again, zooming the microscope in to one thousand.

"Enlarge the image," Maddie said.

On the computer keyboard, Jack tapped a few keys, doing as asked. The image blew up to fill the screen.

Maddie pointed to one of Danny's red blood cells. "There," she said. She traced her nail along a thin line just barely visible, cutting across the cell. "Ectoplasm is one solid mass, as far as we know, but blood isn't. The crystallization appears on the individual cells, not around them."

"You found something?" Jazz called from across the room.

"You betcha, Jazzypants!" Jack whooped, throwing up his arms.

Maddie left him to celebrate, focusing instead on the pattern she could see. It looked like starbursts. Of course they would, this was Danny. She expected nothing less from her space-loving son. Scanning the image over and over, she tried to see if she could tell exactly how ghostly Danny was. The crystallization appeared fainter, but there was just as much of it as any ectoplasmic sample, simply reduced to a smaller space. Maddie's gaze caught on one of the cells in the corner of the image.

"That's odd," she said. "Jack, look at this." She beckoned him closer, pointing to what had caught her attention. "That cell there. It's the same swirl pattern as the portal.

"You're right," Jack murmured, fascinated.

Tapping her finger on her cheek, Maddie kept staring. There was something else about the pattern, something that nagged at her. It was almost familiar, which should be impossible because every ghost was unique.

"Jack, compare this sample to other ones we have logged in the system," Maddie said.

Behind her, Jazz called, "You don't need to do that!"

"Yes we do."

On the computer monitor, Maddie saw Jazz's reflection. Jazz carefully lifted Danny's head, sliding off the couch, and set him back down. Scurrying across the lab, her socks slipped on the metal tiles.

"Jazz, be careful!" Maddie swivelled her chair around, reaching out to Jazz, but was too late to catch her. Jazz's feet shot out from under her and she hit the ground hard. She groaned, rubbing her backside.

"You should be more careful, you almost fell into the..." Maddie's words died out. The puddle of ectoplasm was gone. "Jack, did you clean up the mess from earlier?"

"Hm? The glass? Yeah, I got it all," he said.

"No, not that, the–" A green blur shot across the lab.

Maddie leapt to her feet, instinctively reaching for an ecto-weapon, but she wasn't wearing any. The green mass zipped back and forth, moving erratically, too fast for Maddie to see. Until it stopped over Danny, hovering.

The ghost was small, about the size of a puppy. It had no arms or legs, just a shimmering body. Spiral patterns danced across its skin, shifting constantly. Yellow rash-like patches smothered the spirals in some places.

Maddie's gaze fell from the ghost to where the puddle of ectoplasm had been mere minutes ago.

"It didn't work," she said quietly, gaping at the ghost.

"Maddie, you should look at this."

"No, Jack, it didn't work!"

"Baby, you really need to look at this!"

Maddie turned, annoyed Jack wasn't listening to her, and froze. The computer had found a match in the crystal patterns. Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom, one hundred percent.

—

There were only so many dramatic revelations Maddie could handle in one day. First Danny had a ghost flu, then it was worse than a flu, then he was dying, then he wasn't, and then it turned out he was dead all along. Her heart couldn't take it.

She sat on the floor in front of Danny's couch, watching him sleep. The reanimated ghost slept with him, curled up on his back. It was almost cute. Normally, Maddie would have blasted the thing to shreds by now for even getting close to Danny, much less touching him. But right now, that ghost was a sign of hope.

Not only did the ghost recover from the ecto-dejecto, but it gained consciousness. Unless, of course, the portal was conscious after all. That thought sent shivers up her spine. What did that say about Danny, who shared key DNA elements with the portal's ectoplasm? What did it say about the newly birthed ghost that already seemed so attached to him?

It was just Maddie, Danny, and the ghost in the lab. Jazz and Jack had gone upstairs to eat, at Maddie's insistence. It had been a harrowing day and it was barely past noon. Inching forward, she rested her elbows on the cushion beside Danny, folding her arms. The ghost on his back shuffled and yawned, but otherwise didn't acknowledge her. She took that as a good sign.

Danny had stopped shaking not too long ago. The discolouration on his skin had started fading, although not the way Maddie wanted it to. Rather than disappearing completely, it was turning a light salmon colour, a couple shades pinker than a nasty sunburn. Judging by the yellow stains that had yet to fade from the portal ghost, Danny's pink patches would not disappear completely. The sight of them sickened her. Not because they were ugly—Danny could never be ugly to her—but because they were a sign of what she had almost done.

The first few seconds after learning Danny was Phantom, Maddie felt betrayed. How could her own son not trust her with something so monumental? The second thing she felt was a cathartic realization as all the pieces fell into place. The failing grades, the absences, breaking curfew. All their inventions reacting to Danny. It explained everything. Looking back, she should have seen it sooner. Maddie really despised hindsight.

She reached out and brushed Danny's hair away from his forehead, briefly checking his temperature. Disturbingly cold, but Jazz said that was normal for him. Maddie had no choice but to trust her information.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. How many times had she threatened Danny to his face, without knowing it was really him? All the experiments she and Jack had proposed, all the ways they would take Phantom apart to figure out how he ticked. It was horrible.

"I'm so, so sorry." She ran her hand through his hair. Her palm came away wet. Confused, she stared at the ectoplasm streaked across her hand. Pushing Danny's hair back, she checked his scalp for an injury, finding a viscous patch of skin. Before Maddie could process what was happening, Danny was already halfway gone.

"No, no!" She tried to hold him together, but it didn't work. Beneath her helpless gaze, Danny melted, leaving her kneeling in a pool of his ectoplasm, horrified. Her voice caught behind her tongue and refused to move any farther. Cupping her mouth, she croaked pathetically, squeezing her eyes shut. A horrible sob tore through her throat.

Maddie gripped the edge of the couch, punching the cushion. The ghost laying there squawked in protest. Maddie's head snapped up.

"You," she said. Pulling herself up, she braced herself on either side of the ghost. "This happened to you. You came back. How did you do it? Make him come back!"

Crying out in grief, she lowered her head against the couch, shaking. Danny was supposed to be fine. He was supposed to wake up and realize Maddie and Jack knew his secret. He was supposed to wake up and smile because he didn't have to hide anymore. He wasn't... he wasn't supposed to... he couldn't...

A soft white glow filled the room. Maddie opened her eyes, nearly blinded by the light. It came from the ectoplasm. Bright stretching over the puddle, rippling outward from the center at Maddie's knees. The ectoplasm started rising, the rings rising with it, cascading downward.

Slowly, a shape took form, growing out of the ectoplasm. A faceless blob that quickly grew a head, a torso, arms. An achingly familiar form. The ectoplasm creeped back together, sucked inward as the last of the rings faded, and Danny Phantom fell forward into Maddie's waiting arms. She buried a hand on his hair, pressing his face against her shoulder, and let out a broken laugh.

Danny shifted, his arms raising, wrapping around her. "Mom?" he asked, lifting his head.

Maddie wiped her eyes on her sleeve and pulled back so she could see him. He looked different. Where white strands had glistened in Danny's human hair, a black streak now marked his ghost form. His eyes were brighter. Green flecked sparkled on his cheeks like stars. Two new, sharp teeth sat over his canines and lateral incisors on either side of his mouth. He even looked a little taller.

The discolouration remained, though. Grey instead of red.

He tipped his head down, focusing on his body. Startled into action, he yelped and scrambled away, putting distance between them. "I– I mean, Maddie. Madeline. Madeline Fenton. What are you doing here?" he said in a false, deep voice. "In your own lab. What are you doing here in your lab?"

Maddie couldn't help it. She laughed.

"Mo– addie. What, uh, what's going on right now? Am I being punked?" Danny floated back, casting a nervous glance around the room.

"I'm sorry, it's just." She paused to giggle. "How did you ever keep this a secret from us? That voice is so terrible."

"Hey! I like my voice!" Danny shouted, dropping the false voice. His eyes widened and he quickly resumed the charade. "I mean, I like my voice. This voice. This is my voice. And you... you are still laughing."

"Danny..." Maddie wiped her eyes again, this time tears of happiness. "We know."

"You... know?"

"We know."

Danny gawked at her. All it took was Maddie opening her arms and he flew forward, crashing into her.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I lied," he whispered.

Maddie nearly started crying again. "I'm sorry you had to."

"I just, you and Dad. Fighting ghosts is what you do, and I panicked and didn't tell you, and then it felt like I had waited too long. But I... how do you know?" He peered up at her, tilting his head.

"Jazz told us. We thought... we thought you were dying."

"I felt like it."

Maddie cringed.

"Oh, no, geez, I didn't mean it like that. I meant before you got me with whatever that was. I don't remember anything after that and now I feel kind of great actually," Danny said in a rush. Standing up, he flexed his fists and looked down. Following his gaze, Maddie saw he was examining his reflection in the floor. "Did I go through ghost puberty or something?"

Silence stretched between them for a second.

"Oh my god," Danny said, eyes widening. "I totally went through ghost puberty."

He leaned down to get a better look. Before he could, the portal ghost barrelled into his chest, throwing him back against the couch. The ghost zipped around him, nuzzling him and saying gibberish words. At least it sounded like gibberish to Maddie.

Danny caught the ghost in his arms, trapping it against his chest in a bear hug. "And who's this?" he asked.

"Your new best friend," Maddie teased.

"Damn. Sam and Tucker will be so disappointed." Danny flopped onto his back, holding the ghost above his head as if it were a cat.

Maddie felt a sense of calm wash over her. She didn't realize she had still been nervous, but hearing Danny's sarcastic voice, seeing him play with the new ghost, her worries finally disappeared. Everything was going to be okay.

[scariusaquarius]

take a ride pt 3.

Mechanic! Thorin Oakenshield x Female! Reader

—

A/n: Alright. This is the official end of this series, but I’ll make a sequel if people ask for it :D And I’ll do more Mechanic! Thorin fics, if anybody would like them <3

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE (HERE)

—

Genre: Humor, Friendship, Romance Rated: General Warning: Swearing, Humor, Fluff

—

Author: dabisburntnut

—

Ever since the coffee shop, your heart had been racing in your chest. Just remembering Thorin’s laughter, his beautiful smile...it made you squeal every single time you remembered how happy he had been.

 It was beginning to near spring break, and the only thing that you could think of was riding in Thorin’s truck with your feet on the dash while he blared his classic rock and held your hand. It was a daydream that always made you giggle, and you rolled over in your bed. 

You had forgotten to give him your number, and he give you yours, and there were times were you were tempted to text the company Instagram page. Would it be creepy if you did? You had decided against doing it, but the silence had made you want to see him even more. 

It sucked because it had been a whole three weeks since the last time you spoke to Thorin, and you weren’t about to just show up at the shop like ‘hey, wanna go out?’ who even does that? You slapped your hands onto your face. You had to stop thinking so much about Thorin! You finally sat up, texting your manager that you were interested in picking up an extra shift for your dead Saturday. 

Elrond was understanding, sending you the okay and that he would be excited to see you, and you were quick to get dressed. Grabbing your wallet and satchel, you slid into your vehicle and made a quick pit-stop at the coffee shop. 

Your eyes were searching for Thorin, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but he was nowhere in sight. Your stomach dropped, and you walked up to the counter sadly, ordering your usual. 

Was it normal to be so infatuated with someone you had only ever met twice? Were you weird for feeling this way? When you sat down at your booth, you hardly touched your coffee, simply staring out the window and fingering the rip of your coffee cup. Not even your little snack that you bought was touched, smelling so sweet and tempting. 

Packing up the snack, you decided that you would give it to your fellow librarian, Bilbo Baggins and left as quickly as you could. Thunder rumbled in the sky, and you hummed softly. Must everything remind you of that handsome mechanic? 

When you arrived to the library, it was just starting to rain, and you dashed inside the library as fast as you could before the downpour began. Wiping your damp face, you greeted your fellow librarian quietly. 

“Hello, Mr. Baggins.”

Bilbo Baggins perked up, his blue eyes wide and a smile crossed his face. 

“(Y/n), what a surprise. You’re usually not here on weekends.”

You smiled and set your bag down on the desk, slipping out your uneaten snack and handing it to him. 

“Yes, I know. I was just very bored today. I figured I’d just come in for today and get some extra hours in.”

Bilbo made a delighted face at the treat and hummed softly as he took a bite of the sweet. 

“Goodness, did you get this from the coffee shop just down the street? They have the most magnificent teas there, you have to try them.”

He then slid you a catalog of unmarked books, instructing you.

“It’s good that you came in. We have new shipments of crime and psychological thrillers that need to be put into the system, marked, and put away, if you can.”

You smiled politely, taking your coat off and draping it on the back of your chair. 

“That’s what I’m here for. It’s a bit quieter today. Is Elrond not here?”

You sat down in your computer chair, dragging the large box of new books to you and began to assign them barcodes, scanning each one before placing them on the cart as Bilbo replied. 

“He is in a meeting with Professor Grey from the university in the Bree district.”

You hummed deeply, saying as you continued to work. 

“I wonder what they’re meeting about. I notice that Professor Grey comes by often.”

Bilbo shrugged, taking a large sip of his tea before taking another big bite of his sweet. 

“I’m unsure, honestly.”

When you were finished with the last book, you sighed and sat back in your seat, making sure to submit the log into the system before grabbing your scanner, laptop, and the cart full of books. 

“Alright, I’m off. If you need anything, go ahead and send me a text.”

Bilbo waved you off playfully. 

“Shoo, shoo, I haven’t finished my tea yet.”

You giggled at him before stealing a sip of his tea, Bilbo gasping. 

“(Y/n)!”

You scurried off with a giggle, and Bilbo shook his head before sitting back down at his seat. A few moments later, a familiar face walked in, making Bilbo smile widely. 

“Thorin, what a surprise!”

-READER POV-

As you wheeled your cart towards the crime/psychological thriller section, you began to think of Thorin again. How was he? Was he having a good day? Was he busy with his work? You groaned to yourself, hitting your head against the handles of the cart. 

‘Come on, girl! Give it a rest...’ 

Sighing, you grabbed your laptop, logging into the cataloger program before beginning to scan the books to their designated shelves. As you worked, you gently hummed to yourself, becoming lost in your focus as you shelved the books and cataloged them all. 

The sound of a deep voice startled you, and you turned to see who had spoken to you.

“I’ve always enjoyed Dennis Lehane’s Shutter Island.”

Your mouth was dropped in awe as you watched Thorin flip through the book, his sunglasses perched atop his head. He was wearing his half-up/half down look again, his manbun looking a bit messier than usual. His blue eyes flicked over to you, and you shook your head lightly as if to shake yourself from your shock. 

“I always thought the book was very nice.”

Thorin smiled down at you before placing the book back down, saying as he picked up another book, reading the back of it. 

“Have you read much of his works?”

“Ah, no. I’m not really a crime/psychological thriller person. I’m more into (book genre).”

Thorin smiled lightly, and you asked him nervously. 

“Um, are you here for long?”

Thorin hummed lightly, answering honestly. 

“I was here to pick up a few more books, but now that I know you’re here, I guess I could stay for a while.”

Your cheeks went red, and Thorin looked as though he was mentally patting himself on the back, a proud grin on his face. You opened your mouth to speak, only to be cut off by a large clap of thunder. As it broke through the sky, you gasped and jolted, dropping your scanner and book onto your foot. The power immediately shut off, and you cursed, holding your foot before fishing your phone out as the library went completely dark. 

“Thorin, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, what of you?”

You sighed and carefully stood, turning on your flashlight. Thorin made a face as the light went right into his face, and you panicked lightly.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry!”

Thorin rubbed his eyes before smiling slightly. 

“You’re fine. Looks like we’re going to be stuck here for a while.”

You sighed and rubbed your forehead, and Thorin leaned down onto his forearms onto the cart, gazing at you softly. 

“I’ll look at the weather and see how long it’s going to last. Maintenance still hasn’t finished updating our backup generators, so we’re kinda locked in the library at the moment. The doors are all electronically locked.”

Thorin hummed deeply, asking you. 

“Do you have an food? You can’t possibly go without eating for a long while.”

“There are breakrooms on each floor of the library, so we should be able to find something.”

Thorin nodded again before it went quiet, Thorin watching you as you surfed through the weather app on your phone. 

“I’ve been thinking about you.”

Your eyes widened, and you looked over at Thorin, his eyes soft. 

“I’m sorry?”

“You’ve been on my mind for the past three weeks. I...was admittedly so distracted that I forgot to ask for your number that day at the coffee shop.”

Oh my Mahal. Thorin Durin, your hot mechanic, wanted your number? You about fainted, and you offered shyly.

“I can...give you my number right now, if you want? That way you don’t forget it...if you still want it, that is!”

You averted your gaze from his own, and Thorin chuckled softly.

“Yes, I would indeed still like your number.”

You recited your number for him, and Thorin recited it to himself a couple times before winking at you teasingly. 

“I’ll make sure to never forget that.”

“Stop, I’ll faint if you keep doing that.”

Thorin laughed lightly, and you shook your head at him, shyly smiling before sighing, looking down at your phone. Thorin moved from the cart to get a look at the text from Bilbo as well, and you said to him.

“Mr. Baggins says that there’s a power outage, so we’ll most likely be stuck here for a while.”

“That’s alright. Your crime & psychological thriller section is big enough to last me for years.”

You chuckled and reached into the cart, picking up a book as you leaned towards him a little as you became comfortable again.

“And we just got new shipments, so tack on a few more years there, Mr. Durin.”

His eyebrows shot up, a smirk on his face as he leaned in a bit more closer to you, your fragrance wafting into his nose and making his knees become slightly shaky. 

“Oh, so now we’re back to last-name basis?”

“We’ve only met twice, three times if you count this time.”

Thorin hummed, grabbing the book from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours. 

“And to think that I was getting somewhere.”

“I am not that easy of a woman to have.”

Thorin grinned at you, and you smiled back at him softly. Thorin replied gently, his other hand reaching over to shut the lid of your laptop, plunging the two of you into complete darkness. 

“Are you quite sure about that?”

“I would like to believe that I am.”

Your heart was racing, feeling his warm skin against yours, and your knees became weak as you felt his hot breath against your lips. 

“I want to kiss you, Ms. (L/n).”

You swallowed thickly and whispered. 

“I would like you to, Mr. Durin.”

Within a second, his lips were on yours, and you immediately wrapped your arms around his neck, and Thorin’s hands came to your face. He cupped your cheeks gently, sighing softly as he kissed you, and you swore that you would faint from how happy and elated you were. 

Thorin pressed you against the bookshelf, pulling back to take a deep breath before kissing you again, and you hummed softly. Thorin’s tongue brushed against your bottom lip, and you allowed him in, his tongue dominating your mouth, and Thorin’s hands rand down your sides to your hips, and you gently tugged on his hair. Thorin pulled back, saying against your lips. 

“You are a temptress...haunting my dreams for the last three weeks. All I could think about since the coffee shop was how much I wanted to see you again.”

You let out a shaky breath, and Thorin kissed you again, stealing the breath you took. 

“You were volunteering today, right?”

You replied, biting your lip as your hands came down to feel at his biceps. 

“Um, technically, yes. I’m not required to stay for a whole shift.”

“Would you do me the honors of coming home with me to have dinner then, Ms. (L/n)?”

You bit your lip, your heart racing even more, and you replied to him. 

“This isn’t just another way to get another tip from me, is it?”

Thorin’s head tilted back as he laughed, and he leaned down, brushing his nose against yours. 

“No, this is not another way to get more money from you.”

You smiled and Thorin asked you within your ear. 

“Would you like to take a ride with me?”

“Only if it comes at no additional charge.”

“For you, my services are free.”

[END]

Richard Armitage & Co. Taglist: @fizzyxcustard​ @aspookybunny​ @daisy-picking-lady​ @narnvaeron​ @thequeenoferebor @abiwim @crazytxgradstudent​@ruthoakenshield​ @sgtbarnes107 @thorinthehottytotty​ @mariannetora​ @deepestfirefun​ @onlyyoudarling

Hobbit Taglist: @underthemoon-n​ @tschrist1​ @avaria-revallier​ @cassiabaggins​

Take a Ride Taglist: @stuckupstucky​ 

[shesawriter39049]

|Got Me Loosin All My Cool| M|

Pairings: Jungkook X Reader | Jimin X Reader( Smut) FT- Side Tae & Yoongi

Note: Kook is in 80% of this but he’s “new” to the dynamic...so the smut is with Jimin and the OC...not Kookie!

About- Jimin and yourself take Jungkook shopping for a new suit to wear to the “Spectrum” launch party! OH, and Jimin fucks you in the backseat of your truck in the parking garage of the mall…..

OR: You know Kookie still in that “Broke college grad” phase only being with the company barley a month, and you don’t want him to feel self-conscious at the event! You’ve also been too busy to really check in with him to see how he’s adjusting! So, you thought something like this, in a more laxed atmosphere, would be a good solution! Oh and Jimin, honestly he’s just nosey as fuck and inched himself along, like nobody really invited him he invited his damn self! Also Jungook can’t underatand why the fuck your all so damn attractive...like...why!?

Jungkook’s a sweetheart and lowkey confused and whipped for everybody

Tae’s kinda being a spoiled asshole

Yoongi’s over it!

Jimin’s being a brat, he’s not use to having to “Behave” around others, espeically while your wearing “that” dress.....

-Song Reference- COOL-  Dua lipa

WC: 6K

WARNINGS: Semi-public sex/Top OC/Power bottom Jimin/ Spit play/ Cum play/ Fingering (F receiving) Cockrings/Lube (yes ppl actually use that IRL )Dirty talk/ biting, finger sucking

FINAL NOTE: This little excerpt is the prequel to the next full-length one-shot “All Eyes On Me” which is Hoseoks official ‘Intro” if you will. The full Summary for that can be found in the Masterlist which is linked below! Also if you’re new here..this is a stand-alone one-shot within my OT7Poly AU called “7 Deep” Short version: Your husband Namjoon and yourself run a successful Adult Film Entertainment Company called “Onyx” with your 5 best friends from college who you also happen to be in an open relationship with!

(Sneak peek)

~~~~~~

ONXY ENTERTAINEMENT 10:45 AM

Jungkook’s happy I guess almost surprisingly so, I mean yeah Yoongi and yourself seemed cool in the interview, and when he did is work interview the vibe was chill. But let’s get real, we all know shit always seems better than it actually is in the interviews!

For one he honestly wasn’t expecting to be given such free reign already which is also why he’s happy as hell he didn’t listen to his roommate’s Mark and Ten and lie on his resume. Granted, everything still had to go through Yoongi first but he wasn’t just... I don’t know editing thumbnails like he thought he was actually doing real work. He’s been here barely a month and he already has reels he can add to his portfolio! Learning new tips and tricks, believe it or not, even through his internships he’s learned that some people are stingy when it comes to sharing knowledge. Yoongi however was far from that, thankfully he was well aware that just because you teach someone your “secrets” doesn’t mean you’re essentially replacing yourself! What makes you good at your job isn’t just how it’s done its how you do it!

If only Kookie could stop internally fangirling over Yoongi his life would be a little easier! He’d seen hundreds of your companies films before and being the production major he is..of course, he’d watch it the first time to jack off..then the second time he’d find himself just as if not even more turned on for the production quality. That’s something Onyx is always praised for..”Aesthetically pleasing porn”. Every morning, Yoongi would sit him down and show him something new and for the first time he finally understands what people mean when they say that someones mind is..attractive! Not Yoongi himself though, because that’s his boss and that would be weird but like his brain, ya know? Yoongi’s brian is sexy in a broboss way...I don’t know just go with it!

Anyway, Kook’s current project was actually one of his favorites so far because it was forcing him to actually challenge himself! This was something actually requested by Hoseok, who he learned was 26, the head of marketing, always bouncing around like he’s had 6 expresso shots and somehow manages to make streetwear look professional…. But anyway the task is creating trailers for films that are pc enough to not be blocked on platforms like IG but spicy enough to get ppl to wanna watch the full thing. Making a climax without the actual climax if you know what I mean. So he’d have to sit there and watch the films, try not to get hard and wanna jack off while watching said films...then take notes and screencaps of the best moments and compile them together without showing “too much”. He’s never been so thankful that he could wear sweatpants to work….because…..yeah it was hard..literally and figuratively hard...but like I said he’s happy and can pay his bills so that’s cool too!

Don’t get me wrong he still feels a little out of place at times and surprisingly enough not for the reason he expected! Two months shy of his 21st bday he assumed he’d feel a type of way because he’s the youngest but that’s not the case! Hell, they went to Nobu for lunch last week and Jin actually slid him his drunk so he wasn’t the only one not drinking!  Flashing him a cheeky little wink and whispering “Don’t tell mom” in reference to you once Kook looked back at him like a deer in headlights! It seems as though they care more about his talent than his age which is the way it should be because he knows he’s good at what he dose!

However, Onyx is kinda like those offices you see on TV, the kind he never thought where real, behind closed doors the environment is far from pc! It’s not a normal morning unless somebodies cursing out there computers! This morning he swore Taehyung told Jimin he had a shrimp dick…… There’s “that’s what she said” jokes being thrown out left and right, people cracking jokes on one another. And it’s not that he feels uncomfortable by any means again he’s a 20 y/o kid from LA it’s just ...he’s new...ya know? So he doesn’t know if he’s “allowed” to do that! So in the meantime, he just spends his days laughing until his chest hurts!

But besides that everybody’s chill , he’s still trying to learn people, regardless of how laxed the office is everybody’s busy as all hell especially Namjoon and yourself! The two of you are actually his biggest mystery, he’s never thought of marriage being something that he’d want. He’s always heard that people change, and shit gets boring, but even in a work environment that’s far from the vibe he gets from the two of you! You actually make marriage seem exciting, worth it, like a gift, not a task…..

Something else that he can’t truly wrap his head around is that your his boss, like legitimately his boss! Somebody that looks like you,I mean fuck your not even 30, you sway around the office in your little dresses and designer heels! Always dolled up hell sometimes he questions if he’s the one in some upscale porno! Actually, not just you all of you why the fuck are all of you so effortlessly attractive and put together?! To make it even worse you all know your shit too! Two days ago for example Kook went to Yoongi to ask if there was a certain way he wanted the ending credits to come into frame, and instead of Yoongi responding you did! Using terminology that had him ready to run home and pull out his “Intro to production” text box! Shit don’t make any Goodman sense...even Yoongi sitting in his office looking like he could be in one of the films he’s editing and no, god no why is he thinking this about his higher-ups?! No, no, nope try again Jeon!

However, now that we’re on this topic, there is one person that he can’t quite wrap his head around...I mean yeah he’s nice but he just seems more reserved around Jungkook than everyone else. Which is odd considering he’s the one Kook meet first, he’s actually the one that encouraged him to even submit his resume, to begin with! What makes it even odder is Yoongi and yourself actually told him that Tae was the most outgoing...it’s not that Jungkook nessercally thinks Tae dislikes him it’s just ...I don’t know, I don’t know…I guess he was just...warmer when the two of them met at Starbucks then he is now that they actually work together!

...And I guess that’s why he almost shit himself when his phone rang and the incoming name rang though as….”Taehyung Kim”...he kinda hoped he pocket dialed him and would just hand up! But wait, I guess you can’t really do that from a landline can you?? Fuckkkkkk

“I know technologies come a long way Kook, but phones don’t answer themselves ya know…” Eyes fluttering over to see Yoongi smirking at him, tone blatantly amused as he flipped through a file he had in his hands.It’s like he could sense how nervous he is too “Don’t worry about Tae, he’s more bark than he is bite, he’s literally a puppy dressed in Gucci…” Flicking his chin in the direction of the phone with a reassuring smile.

With a timid nod and shaky fingers Jungkook picks up  the call on the final ring “H-hello??”

“Jungkook? Can you come to my office in the next 5 or so minutes?” His tone wasn’t rude by any means but it also wasn’t the most inviting. Eyes fluttering overly timidly in Yoongis direction because he knew Tae was loud enough that the elder could hear and he smiled fondly, nodding in approval. Arms crossed firm against his chest, head cocked to the side, eyes squinting slightly from under his black baseball cap, as if he was now purposely trying to hear the conversation.

“Umm, yeah, yeah of course…” God, why does he sound like he’s still going through puberty right now!? Voice fluttering ina and out of an octave!

“Great!”

Tae just hangs up, no goodbye ...promoting Yoongi to roll his eyes, with an exasperated sigh...Jungkook just sits there for a moment, not too sure what to do!

“You’re free to go, Seok dosen’t need these until Friday and your deifiently far enough along, a little time away from your desk wont hurt! Oh, just save your stuff first though! The systems moving slow as fuck and I’m about ready to break my damn computer so I’ll probably do a system reboot while you’re gone!”

Jungkook nods timidly, swallowing so hard he’s sure Yoongi heard it, fingers scattering to do as Yoongis instructed, he literally feels like he’s going to throw up! Why does Tae make him so nervous? I mean no offense but Tae isn’t even his boss why is he more freaked out of Taehyung than is actual boss!

He hears a heavy sigh fall from behind him, as Yoongi invites himself to take a seat, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder ‘First off, you’re doing fucking great, and I mean that, so step back...and breath...” Squeezing his shoulder slightly, tone calm yet stable enough to ground the younger! 

 “Second, I’m ordering lunch from that coney up the street, Hyungs treat” He watches Jungkook go to open his mouth in protest and Yoongi just groans, loud and obnoxious, eyes fluttering to the back of his head more times than he can count!

“Don’t even try and give me that “Your not hungry bullshit” Eyes narrowing in the youngers direction challangingly “So let’s try this again, what do you want? And yes Tae can wait I already texted him and told him so you’re fine! Now go to google and pull up Leo’s menu and lets order lu-”

“Yonngggggiiiii!!!’ Whines through the studio, which only promps the man in question to slowly sink into his chair as if he was trying to make himself dissapear! And before Jungkook can even make heads or tails as to what’s happening...a pair of skin-tight leather pants, a florial silk shirt, that was sitting so low it mideswell not even be buttoned, flashy shades and windswept pastel pink hair comes strutting in... Looking like something straight out of Vouge so again he asks why the fuck does everybody look like this!?

Not even botherng to ask if he’s interupted anything, just flinging his arms around the production manager’s neck, propping his chin on top of his head,

“I need like...20 headshots edited...in the next half hour” Jungkook watched Yoongi go completely ridgit a scowl on his face as he tried to pull away but the casting manager only held on tigher “...and before you kill me even though I drunk some of it this Amerciano is for you soooo, I feel like I’ve made it worth or while, please and thank you! ” Smiling so big his eyes dispered into his face it took everything in him not to coo and swoon all at the same damn time!

Jimin fucking Park......

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Heyyyyyyyy,

That’s all she wrote for now, don’t know the post date yet, I’ve written up wo when they actually go to the mall so it’s like halfway done.....

MASTERLIST FOR THIS AU IS DOWN BELOW, I’M GLAD PEOPLE ARE ENYOING THIS “UNIVERSE”!

7 DEEP

[carnal-lnstinct]

Conton City Lockdown

Summary: Time patrollers have returned from missions carrying an unknown disease and infecting others denizens of Conton City with it, forcing Trunks and Supreme Kai of Time to shut down most operations and training around the City and drastically limit missions for a while until they can get everything under control. Everyone is instructed to stay inside their assigned domiciles until further notice. "Who knows what that could do to the timeline if Patrollers pass it on during a mission?!" Supreme Kai of Time urges Conton. The Conton City Hero has also been quarantined with her current Master, Goku much to both their dismay as there was still so much training left. What other shenanigans can the two saiyans get themselves into while being all cooped up.

Word Count: 6,013 (Chapter 3) AO3 Rating: Explicit / Mature Warning: nsfw ( smut, explicit language )  A/N:  I actually booted up Xenoverse 2 again to get a bit more idea what to do with this chapter. I tell myself I don't want long chapters since this is a short one-shot, but I couldn't bring myself to pass on the details here. Hope its worth it!

Chapter 3

Days were really starting to  feel blended together now. With Conton city running on 24 hour daylight, the week's time that passed felt like one extremely long day. By the grace of the technological advancements here were you able to track the time and days. That and the daily scheduled check in from the robotic clerks of Conton. The second most physical presence you were able to get now.

You finally awoke on the sofa feeling lighter than you remember when falling asleep. The heavier figure of the wild haired man was nowhere to be found around you. You opened your eyes to find you were alone in the living room, no immediate sounds being made until the faint hints of water sloshing around behind a door hit your ears. Relieved to still sense the passive ki of your fighting master, it wasn't completely gratifying to wake up without him. Again.  For two people sleeping together, you and Goku never actually slept together. All the times he fell asleep before you, you left him to his peace and went to your bedroom alone along with him never failing to make an effort of relocating you to your room when you would fall asleep around him or are left barely lucid from your rumps. It all comes to you foggy, but you know he does it with such care and tenderness, the way he places you in your bed and tucking the blanket around you before departing to his designated sleeping space. This time though, you insisted he not to do that. Even going so far as commandeering the couch he slept on. You wanted to stay with him for the whole night at least once. Having stretched yourself out along the sofa messily decorated with a spare blanket and pillow, you patted your chest invitingly with your persistent charm knowing he could not deny it. You left him no choice but to crawl onto you and rest his head against your breasts. You still remember the length of his arms stretching around you to snuggle to his comfort, his torso between your legs and how comically his feet hung off the edge of the chair. And the weight of all his muscles on you.  He seemed to become heavier the longer you stayed that way until you drifted off like a weighted blanket you never knew you needed. A brief moment where you slightly stirred from your sleep was content to still feel him wrapped around you and shifted against the weight of him for more, needing more of him around you and drifted off once again with a hand lost in his hair and another hanging around his shoulders.

It would appear he couldn't wait to get this "new day" started, the saiyan male already washing up and would be expecting breakfast to follow soon after. Come to think of it, you haven't taken a decent bath yourself since the day before yesterday and you slowly remember why.

Yesterday with little convincing, you talked  Goku into following you outside to the rooftop area of your building for just a small, quick spar to keep the muscles loose. No transforming, no ki blasts, no charging your energy. Just a small practice of physical skill and technique, something that barely counted as a work out between trained saiyans such as yourselves. But something was better than nothing. It was almost eerie how quiet the large city was with only the sound of the robotic clerks working away at various tasks,but the way the sun hit you skin roused you up for the risk. Sadly it didn't take long for the small training session to draw one of their attention. The robotic voice calmly urging the both of you to go back inside per its protocol, however was immediately cut off by the sharp pierce of the familiar, old yell from your former mentor.

"Have you lost your marbles!?" The Elder Kai's vocals startling you and rattling the machine itself, shouting from the robot's speakers. "We are in a state of emergency! How dare you of all people not heed the warnings of your elders! How reckless!! Shameful!! Get your tuckus back inside or I will suspend you from any Quests! Permanently!"

Usually the old man's berating didn't phase you by much, but the thought of never going on a time patrol again wracked your core as a chilling fact of his power. Well, not his power but what the Supreme Kai of Time would do if or when she found out. You wasted no time teleporting out of there the moment you recover from your shock, leaving the confused Goku behind who immediately followed after your ki once he detected you back inside. The poor robotic clerk left to heal from the voice rattling it.

Suffice to say, getting caught really shook you up more than you could have expected. More than fighting the powered up Mira or even an angry Beerus. And though you hoped it wouldn't, it did get to the Supreme Kai of Time whose lecturing stung worse. She sounded more understanding and approached the situation more openly than the old man but the guilt certainly sat in your chest all the same. Back inside your living quarters, the conversation between you and the two Kais over your communicator ends with you being reminded of the current danger and the lack of grasp on their ends to plan a counterattack accordingly. Isolation wasn't the best option, but it was all they had so far that kept the strange disease from passing around, even sharing worry of it being anything like the virus that had attacked Goku across the timelines. Supreme Kai of Time made a passing thought that they would be in need of you very soon as well, rousing hope in you again. The Kais didn't waste time questioning Goku's presence either as he watched over your shoulder through the whole thing. You immediately answered vaguely, leaving it as him simply stopping by to train, a true fact a week ago, but since he was already here you could stand the company and he was eager to help where needed as well. That had set the tone for the rest of the day, prompting your dispirited heart to submit to whatever comfort the larger saiyan gave you by simply being there. Even just a cuddle to sleep.

With all of that flooding back into your mind, you sighed and figured it was time you prepared for the day as well, holding out hope you would be summoned to the Time Nest and anxious that maybe you would be left waiting longer as punishment. Heading into your bedroom to choose some comfy clothes to change into after your bath, an old duffel bag catches your eye as you went through your closet. It's familiar, of course, but its contents are a mystery. You hadn't used this bag since you first entered the Time Patrol Academy. Inside, you find an old scouter, your first scouter, and the old, blue bodysuit you used to wear under your armor. Made of the familiar saiyan-grade material. A nostalgic glance between the two items rushes you with a feeling of worry all over again from the Kais words replaying in your head. But Supreme Kai of Time did say soon.. You can only continue to try to remain optimistic.

Until then...an idea pops into your head, that scoundrel grin rising into your features.

Goku is settled into the tub that fit his entire body better than the small couch he was had been resting on for the week, the hot water and space around him gives such a relief to his body. He gave a light stretch before submerging himself further, knees rising out of the water but a knock at the door catches his attention.

"Oh Kakarot." He hears your voice a few moments later and turns his head toward the unlocked door. "Are you hiding from me in there?" Your tone is playful and calm, but he doesn't think twice about it.

"Not at all, did ya need something?" He answers, unaware of what was awaiting him beyond the door.  You press the button sliding the door open, the bathroom light revealing your form to the half submerged saiyan. Your tail is slowly swaying behind you as you stand there with a hand on your cocked hips and the other braced on the doorway to give you an imposing and suggestive stance. Wrapped around your upper body is the blue suit alone, clinging tightly to your curves and purposely left raised around your thighs to expose them more where they connected to your ass. You purposely left yourself bare underneath the whole thing. Your feet and hands were fitted into the old white boots and matching large white gloves. And of course, the scouter is affixed to your ear to complete the look.

"Hey, Earth man." You greet him in your most sultry tone while attempting to come off as a threat, loosely wrapping your tail around your hips.  "I'm here to conquer you..and then take your magical balls all for myself. What are you going to do about it, huh?" Goku's eyes lift, mesmerized by the appearance of you but not for the reason you had hoped for.  "Oh, wow you have one of those power reading thingies. You look like Vegeta when he first came to Earth." He pointed at you, naivety on full display.

'That was hardly a compliment', you thought, the permanent scowl on the Prince's face flashing through your mind.

You try to play that off and raise your head to increase your look of intimidation and to keep the focus on your goal, giving him a sly smirk as you pressed the scouter button to activate it. The equipment pings and starts to reads his passive energy. "That's right, Kakarot. I'm a saiyan, after all. And according to my scouter...You're gonna be a howling mess after I pound you into the ground. Begging me to finish you off. What d'ya have to say to that?" You tease, giving him an expected look to pick up on.

Goku sits up in the water and leans against the edge of the tub as he tilts his head at you, blinking. "I think your scouter is broken, you know it's going to take a lot more training before you're able to beat me." You visibly cringe at his answer.

"--I KNOW!" You shot back, nerve scratched. Immediately you curse under your breath having openly admitted that. "I'm trying to flirt with you, ya dolt! I've been trying for 2 days now!" You huff and throw your hands up in defeat. "Forget it! Just hurry up so I can take a bath!" You storm out of the doorway snatching the scouter from your ear. As the door closes behind you, the sound of Goku calling after you to wait grows quiet as you go back into your bedroom. Throwing the scouter onto the bed you start muttering to yourself as you return to your previous task of looking for something to settle around the house again. You start to hear the bathroom door open and the heavy steps coming up fast, the dripping wet Saiyan making his way into the room with his right hand holding the towel closed around his waist.

"H-hey! I'm sorry! I-I didn't realize-!" He stutters nervously over his words as you shoot him a glare, silencing him.

"Save it! We've been at this for a week already and you still don't get it. I could wear a sign that read 'Hey Kakarot! Shove your dick inside me until I pass out again' and you would still be dense to what it means!"

"P-Please just hear me out. You know as well as I do this is all still new to me. I don't mean to make you mad but c-can you really be that surprised about i-"

"I CAN, YOU JACKASS!" You yell, stomping your way over to him as he stumbles back against the wall and you shake a gloved fist at him. "How many more times we have to do it before it gets through your thick head?! You'd pick up on me going to the kitchen for any reason at all if it got you food better than me spreading my legs in your face! GET WITH IT, KAKAROT!" You growl, your energy peaking visibly as the clear aura wrapped around you, blowing your wild saiyan hair into a frenzy. You're not as frustrated at this vicious cycle you keep going through with him and flirting, trying to play subtle and coy in getting his attention. No, it was more of everything else going on around you two.

"Easy! I will, I promise!" The larger saiyan pleaded mercy for your calm to return, a single hand up in defense of you as he felt all the more vulnerable dripping wet and barely holding the towel around his hips. Regaining your wits at his demeanor, you realized what you were doing and backed down. Your ki settles back down to your base level.

"No..." You sigh heavily, giving his wet chest a ginger pat over to better show you're harmlessness.  "You're doing fine. Just..." You didn't want to come off as a bully, especially to one of the strongest warrior you know while he's naked. You begin to feel you may be shoving him out of his comfort zone despite how well received your advances do tend to go with him. Whatever this is between you two, something you still need to address.  "Never mind. I'm just.. frustrated with everything else going on and I'm unfairly taking it out on you." You admit, placing your hands on your hips and turning away as you pouted with lightly dusted cheeks. "I-I'm big enough to admit that.. Just thought.. Maybe I needed a distraction from it all for a bit, but that's not your problem. I-I'm...S-sorry..."

Goku recovers, reading your change in energy beyond you lowering your power level. Better than he has picked up on most things around you lately, but to be fair he has been improving on noticing some things beyond that of a direct kiss to the lips or an obvious frown he couldn't fix with his ever encouraging words. He too remembers the old man's lecture of you basically almost being out of the job for what you two did outside and the following disapproval of the Supreme Kai of Time pretty much offering the same consequence should you go off without order again. All of that for just a little training? He gets why, but for all you've done they could have been less harsh. It's not easy for saiyans to sit still for too long. It clicks that he should know--does know-- you a little better now in this small time together than he has in all of the time you spent training from the day he first took you on as his pupil. Your job as a time patroller has been your life for a long time now, to not do it or anything that has to do with it was like taking away your reason for fighting. For training, to become stronger.  All of his efforts to one day make a powerful and tough opponent out of you to challenge for real would be for nothing. Even now you back down from him and apologize in your own way for yelling at him. That was a first. Admittedly, he admires that unyielding fire in you.  Goku finally understands that you don't feel good, but you're trying to. He should have realized by the sudden appearance of you in the saiyan costume that you were up to something to lift your spirit and tag him along for the fun. What kind of Training Master had he been to not realize his pupil was so deeply troubled? He...He's going to fix it.

"You're right." The larger saiyan nods, you glance over your shoulder to look at him. "I must be foolish to not see it sooner... Right, then." He laugh softly, quickly he adjusts the towel around his waist with a small knot and places his hands on the sides of his face giving an overly dramatic look of terror. "Oooh nooo! It is a saiyan from another planet coming to destroy me!"

Your brow quirks at this sudden display and you turn around to find him dropping down on his knees with his head lowered, bowing down to you in this animated fashion to accent his downright hammy performance. "Please don't destroy my planet, oh evil one! Take me instead!"

Unbelievable. You snort and break into a laugh. "Kakarot, no.  You don't have to do this. It's okay."

"Oh yeah?" He lifts his head up with a wink and leaps up, putting space between you both and takes on his fighting stance. "Because I am not Kakarot! I am Goku, the saiyan from earth and defender of its people! I will defeat you, evil saiyan!" He smirks, immediately transforming into his super saiyan form. The aura washing over the room and leaves the pale gold color of hair and azure eyes "glaring" back at you.

You blink at him, body stirred by the sudden appearance of his super saiyan form. Lifting your hands from your hips you slowly take a fighting stance of your own. "Goku, 'defender of earth' huh?" You repeat grinning as well, the similar shade of blue replacing the black hue of your eyes as the golden glow burst out around your body.  "Not when I'm done with you. I'm going to put you on your back, Earth boy."

"Not if I put you on yours first."

You didn't expect that, but you would be lying if you said it didn't immediately excite you. The space around you is small but you waste no time jumping forward with a ready fist to punch at him. He blocks you with his forearm and as you come at him again with your off hand, punch denied again by a raised knee.

You're both holding back, but the loose items around you are rattling on their surfaces from the force of your moves alone. You continue going at him, picking up the pace with your half-hearted punches. Goku remaining ever elusive to your increasing speed, movements blurring to the naked eye. Your hands collide together, feet braced on the floor as you pushed against each other in this playful display of strength. Fingers laced, the electric blue of your eyes boring into one another as sparks of rogue energy began to race in between your hold and around each of your knuckles.  It was amazing how you were both barely giving  any effort worth bragging about but still managed to produced such energy, this vortex of power appearing around you and the vibrations shaking the entire place. You can start to feel energy tingling, grow erratic between your palms, this making you both quickly draw back before it escalated into something more wild and destructive to your room.

You could only look at each other through the gap of empty space between you now as the feeling of that energy still tingles against your skin but starting to fade. A silent exchange between your stares and your smile fades, Goku withdrawing from his fighting pose to stand at his tallest. Together, you let go of you super saiyan forms to return to base level, your breath trembles on exhale at the release of power. Goku treads across the floor to you and you come to meet him without hesitation, colliding together once more but in a furious exchange of kisses and hands pulling anywhere they can grab. You left no space between you with hands settling around his torso to hold him closer  and his cradling your head in his large hands, leaving little chance for you to catch your breath.  His skin already felt dry against your grip, most likely from the rising heat of his body upon transforming and you can smell the fragrant soap emanating from it's surface. The rough hands you would normally find around the small of your back by now clung to the back of your exposed thighs as you were lifted up in a single, effortless motion,  propping your legs around his waist. This demeanor of his is different. Where you normally the lead, you find yourself following his actions, your legs looping at the ankles around him without thought.

Suddenly the wall is slam against your back, your hands pulled from his waist and held back by each side of your head.  You gasp in a deep breath, chest continuing to heave for air  as your surprised eyes looked up into the larger male's darker, commanding gaze. You feel your heart going wild in your chest, feeling smaller than you were under his eyes.  "Promise to stop terrorizing my planet ...and I won't let you suffer." Goku brusque "warning" leaves your jaw hanging, only a resigned whimper betraying you when he pressed closer to you. "Got it?"

You collect your thoughts and swallow, raising your head to give the impression of looking down your nose at him. "Make me." you dared, managing to smirk again. "I can take anything you throw at me, earthling." You try to sound tough, but you hoped he would do just that. Anything. Once more your body betrays you as your thighs twitch around his hips in excitement for what's to come now.

He smirks back at you, "I figured you'd say that." You feel your back leave the wall but your hands still bound by his larger pair, more and more your lower body grows enticed to this authoritative motion. In no means were you so much weaker you couldn't shake yourself free of him, more so you were eager to see where he intends to go with this. You almost didn't want to fight back. Even his energy feels different to you. It is nothing like the passive ki you sensed when he was in the bath tub. Your eyes never leave his and you feel your collective weight fall into the mattress of your bed. Goku releases your hands finally and trace over the skin tight material down to your sides where he proceeds to mercilessly tickle at you beneath him. He has you trapped, your legs still around him and his body so close to you limiting any means to escape it.

You let out a holler of laughs, twisting violently beneath him and pulling whatever your hands could grab that would help you pull yourself free. "Ka- Kakarot I'll k-kill you...f-for this!" You managed to shriek out between your fits of uncontrolled laughter.  

"You should have accepted surrender!" Goku teases, giving you a shit-eating grin.  Your legs fall from his hips as you dig your booted heels against the bed to try to push away to no avail. He continues his assault, hands too strong and too quick to beat away. The most you could manage to do was twist around to your stomach and attempt to crawl while batting your tail at him.

"C'mon, say 'uncle'!"

"You a-ass! Th-This isn't f-fair!" You body continued to convulse at the tickling and your words just seemed to grow more broken up in your cackles.

"Say it!"

"S-STOP!"

"I'll only stop if you say it!"

"F-Fine! UNCLE! U-UNCLE!"

The saiyan male liberates you from his attack, leaving you to lie there a panting, grinning shame. How could you not expect this from him? This big goof. "I'm sorry, it was too good a chance I couldn't pass it up!" He giggles at you from a benevolent place before that switch appeared to go off in his head again and that good-natured innocent saiyan you knew disappeared into a sinful gaze. "Now let's get serious." As if you weren't feeling limp enough, a pressure bears down around your tail, eyes shooting wide at the sharpness that overcame your entire body. Goku lets up on his grip at the base of your tail just enough to divert any pain, leaving only the lack of control of your limbs. He is all too familiar with what a tight grip could do and he doesn't want you to hurt, just doesn't want you trying to wiggle away again. "Guess you're not as big a conqueror as you thought. You haven't even trained your tail." He coos, patronizing you for your weakness. "Guess you're nothin' but a big bully."

"A-Are you out of your mind?! Let go!" You gripe at him, though left silenced with a small whimper when he gives a light tug and raises your hips to settle your lower body on your knees. With what strength left in your body holding you there, he lets up his grip again. Goku runs a finger of his free hand along the stretched fabric clinging to you where it contours to your warmth, clit twitching on contact. His stroking circles between your entrance  and your sensitive button making you bite your lip at the long awaited contact but  jerk your head back to look at him trying to focus on the fact he has your tail in his grasp. "H-hey! Do you hear me?!" You see his eyes lift to yours and his lips curve into an almost devilish countenance, turning his gaze to his finger's handiwork and the saturated line of moisture growing in its pattern.

"You said you could take anything I throw at you, right?" He asks continuing to toy with you, switching from his finger to his thumb as he narrowed his motion to your clothed clit. Your entire lower body jerks back against it, wanting to follow the motion but trying to hold control until he withdraws his limb when he realizes your resolve. "What was that you were saying earlier? You were going to put me on my back?" His husky voice goads you on. Knowing full well there wasn't much left you could do with your tail in his trained hand and your drenched button twitching from stimulation, you almost consider taking your words back in this game. You watch him shift behind you, carefully positioned on his own knees between your legs and hear his towel fall loose and land beside your head, earning your eyes. In place of his fingers now, you feel the head of his erect cock press against your clit, exciting it all the more through the fabric. You mewl at the contact, dropping your head into the mess of sheets of pillows and pushing your hips back against him for more. You can feel you insides practically opening up for him, ready to take him in if not for your damned suit! Goku laughs a little, "You just say when you're ready to give up and I'll end your suffering." How can he still sound so in control teasing you like this?! He must have been sizing you up for this the moment he triggered his super saiyan form, conniving every step and reading your responses for the proper approach. Let it never be said Goku's wiles were not up to par with getting what he wanted, especially when he was confident he was going to come out on top.

God Damn it, Kakarot.

The not so subtle rubs of him against your entrance but denied by your clothes taunted you further. He knows exactly what he's doing when he's into it, a lesson you would not have thought you would come to regret if he was going to tease you like this. You try to tell your body you can endure more of this, but your insides are begging to be filled with him.

"Well?"

"....I'll...yield..."  You relinquish your pride to your greedy, depraved core. You don't think you have ever been more turned on by him then you were right now. You regain control of your muscles once you feel all the pressure lift from your tail and it dangles at your side. A sigh of relief, you attempt to speak and lift yourself. "Kakarot, yo-", A keen shriek shoots from your throat when you feel the fabric pulled aside, exposing your moist privates, and how easily the head of his cock found its way inside, opening you up for the rest of him. Your entire core rattles with delight at the penetration. You should have known it was too good to be true. He was caving alongside you the whole time, waiting for your blessing to take you. Goku lets out a decadent groan as his length twitches feverish from the snug caress of your insides welcoming him, drawing himself in and out as he lets his control slip away.

"Took you long enough." He chokes back, stretching the fabric further away from your hole, his other hand guiding your hips back to suit his cock.

"J-Just shut up!" You still attempted to sound tough, though your voice was muffled by the sheet you had bitten down on as the pleasure ignited inside you. It already felt like you were edging towards your orgasm, you had to attempt to calm your overexcited nerves  enough to enjoy the full ride. How easily your body accepted his length this time left you almost breathless. Already you can feel his hips bouncing off your ass, driving your lower body back with just one of his hands to meet his thrusts. There was no holding it back now considering how much he stirred you up. Your insides squeeze him all at once as a strained, euphoric squeal falls out of your throat. His rhythm slows in response, groaning as your twitchy insides only seem to pull him in to the hilt and grow all the more hotter around him. You hold yourself against him as the head of his cock nudges at your deep spot, rubbing together in your languid movements.

The strong hands of the saiyan reaches over to your frame and draws you up to hold you into the contour of his muscles, your back resting against his chest as you readjust your legs to accommodate the position. Goku wastes no time pulling the stretchy fabric down your shoulder, kissing the revealed skin to his content. With the lightest twist of your torso, you turn to meet his lips, reaching behind his head and taking a handful of his hair. He begins to quicken the grind of his hips into you again, a steady flow of deep thrusts in this new position you immediately rock yourself into.

"That all you got?" You prod, coherent enough to still provoke this "punishment" worthy of planetary invasion. Though intense and more gripping than ones before, you've endure much more than a single orgasm from him. There was more to go before all the fight is taken out of either of you. You feel his lips spread into a grin against yours, clearly taking the bait.

"I can go all out." He shamelessly declares, a fact you're both aware of, thrive on. You were creating a debauched monster and you intended to delight in every minute of it.  Every moment he wraps you in his large arms and bears down on you to drive inch after inch into your core until it hurts, every curt and tactless word that falls out of his mouth inevitably reminding you of this carnal delicacy of a man who finds new ways to please you, every kiss..and beyond kissing. That alone stirred your arousal right back up. He wrestles control of your hips from you with both hands and begins plunging his cock against your spot again with enough momentum to knock you back into the sheets below. Each of your hands grip at the back of his head to anchor yourself from falling over, taking every bit of this lewd assault on your body with wanton sobs. "D-Don't..Don't stop!" You urged, attempting to bounce yourself back into his movements. Goku braces his forehead against the top of your skull, switching from holding your frame in his hands to wrapping his arms around your build and continuing to drive into you, rocking your entire body with a sharp and ungraceful cadence you could only interpret as his own orgasm creeping in. Your hold on his head grows stronger as your pleasure builds back up to the edge so soon, voice trembling. He lets out a tremulous groan behind you as he stills his hips inside you with a rough shove, hot cum gushing against the wild spasms of your insides. Deliriously you both ride out the shared euphoria until you sink further into his hold, these strong arms the only thing holding you up at the moment.

The larger saiyan leans against you, encouraging you to lie forward as his body follows, catching himself on his own hands and letting you slide off his expended cock before rolling over beside you. Your face is lost in a small bundle of sheets and pillows, body still quivering from it's ecstasy. You managed to turn your head towards him with a small gasp for air, the rise and fall of his chest as he draws for air making him look like he was worn out but you knew better. You extend a hand to touch face, turning his head to look at you. When your eyes meet you see a smile start to form in his features, that kindness returning to his eyes. At least until you narrow your eyes on him and slap your hand down across his cheek with the strength you could find from your exertion.  Goku lets out a yelp of "Ows" and holds the reddening side of his face, downright confused as he looks back at you.

"Ow, geez! What was that for?!"

"You grab my tail again... I'm pulling a new one out of you through your throat." You huff, lifting yourself up enough to crawl over and lie across his chest.  "Warn me before you do that next time."

"Y-Yeah.." He agrees, laughing as he continued to rub his cheek.

"U-Umm...Guys?" A voice emanates by your feet. You and Goku both look at each other in mirrored confusion before looking down to where the voice came from. By your feet you see only the old scouter barely hanging from the edge of the bed. A couple of voices come through, all turning your face a ghostly white as you stared at it wide-eyed. That's right, you never turned the scouter off. It was old but it was the exact some one you wore at the time Elder Kai scouted you for that special mission. The very one you synced with the systems of the Time Nest so the Kais, Trunks and His partner could communicate with you while out on a mission. You're pretty sure your heart just stopped in your chest.

"T-...Trunks?!" You answer hesitantly. The half saiyan responds in a tone similar to yours, wishing he could hide away from the things he heard but its clear now that you were all aware of each other now and everything that transpired between the communicators since you pressed that power button.

"I-I didn't mean to interrupt! J-Just thought you should know Supreme Kai of Time requests for you. Uh, whenever she and my partner can revive the Elder Kai," Trunks manages to report, ever embarrassed. Somewhere in the Time Nest lay the fainted elder kai with a heated face and a drip of blood hanging from his nose., Supreme Kai of Time and the former Toki Toki city hero doing their best to bring the elder back to consciousness.

Your brain is still trying to process what this was going to mean for you, but Goku began to laugh sheepishly, holding a hand to his head. "Well this is gonna be awkward, isn't it?"

[hazel-writes]

Summary: You begin your first official day of work and meet your new coworkers, who turn out to be full of surprises.

Word Count: 2,300

Notes: This chapter is a bit slow, but I'm excited to introduce you to some new characters! If you want to see Picrew face-claims for these characters, look here. Otherwise, imagine them to look however you want!

Warnings: brief mentions of violence

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

I'm trying hard to hide

Keep the sun out of my eyes

Close them tight

And now I'm waiting for the moon to rise

Belle and Sebastian ~ Waiting for the Moon

You walked through the door, nervously wringing your hands, despite your best efforts not to. Your eyes scanned the room, eventually landing on a large, grey reception desk. Sitting behind the desk was none other than Ms. Stoney, the uptight woman who had “welcomed” you onto the ship the day before.

You took a deep breath before walking over to her, waiting patiently for her to look up and address you — but she didn’t. You tried subtly clearing your throat, shifting your feet from side to side, and moving into her line of sight, but nothing seemed to grab her attention. Eventually you forced out a meek, “Hi, there!” to which she responded with an annoyed glance in your direction.

“Oh, it’s you again,” she grumbled with a mix of tiredness and disappointment.

“Uh, yeah, it is,” you smiled back, which you could tell bothered her. “I’m looking for the artist workspace? I know it’s somewhere within this department, but I wasn’t sure where exactly…”

“Artist?” she questioned, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah! Ya know, an individual who… does art?” Your attempt at an explanation was met by silence. “Umm… they’re usually covered in some sort of paint or clay, might dress a little funny, are often a little angsty, possibly tormented by some aspect of their past?” More silence. You give a strained smile; you really shouldn’t keep trying to talk over awkward silences. “Not ringing a bell, huh?”

Through clenched teeth she replied,“I believe the people you are looking for are through those doors on the left.”

She said the word people like it left a bad taste in her mouth. She obviously didn’t think too kindly of them.

“Great, thanks,” you replied, heading to the door she indicated.

You opened it, and to your surprise you saw no canvases, paint splatters, tin cans, or haphazard brushes littering the room. The walls and floors were a spotless white. A large, circular table was positioned in the center of the room, surrounded by sleek modern chairs and data pads on tripods. This didn’t look like your dad’s studio back home; a place where the remnants of unfinished projects were put on display for everyone to see and learn from. Here, you could already tell: making mistakes wasn’t an option. There was no room for error.

You returned your attention to what was in front of you, only to have three pairs of eyes meet yours.

The first pair belonged to a girl of medium height. She had long, slightly frazzled, blonde hair and piercing blue eyes that contrasted her pale skin. She jumped when you walked in, her face immediately lighting up when she saw you. The second pair belonged to a taller girl. She had warm, chestnut eyes that complemented her dark, sepia skin. Her hair framed her face in a fan of tight curls. She seemed to examine you carefully, squinting slightly, before turning back to her work. The final pair belonged to a boy of medium height. He had shaggy light brown hair and a tanned, terracotta complexion. He looked at you with curious hazel eyes, smirking ever so slightly.

The three of them looked to be about your age, somewhere in their 20's.

The blonde-haired girl ran over to you, pulling you away from your observations. “You must be the new girl!” she exclaimed. “I’m Rilea, your new best friend.”

You were taken aback by her enthusiastic and cheerful attitude; it wasn’t something you encountered very often on the Finalizer. You laughed nervously. “Oh, uhh… cool?”

The boy with the disheveled hair spoke up from the back of the room. “Don’t mind her, she has a new best friend each week.” He smirked at Rilea and she threw a box of tissues at him playfully.

“While that may be true,” she continued, turning to face you, “I can tell that you are going to be my favorite best friend.”

“That’s literally what you say to every single new person you meet,” the boy piped up again.

“For star's sake, Takoda, why do you have to be such a mudcrutch?!” Rilea shouted at him, frustrated.

You continued to observe in silence, still adjusting to the rapid shift of atmosphere in this room compared to the rest of the Finalizer.

You moved to go sit, finding an open seat next to the quiet, curly-haired girl. You gave her a small smile when you sat down, and she returned the favor, scooting her chair over to give you more room. Rilea, and the boy whose name apparently was Takoda, continued to argue like a couple of four year olds.

“Are they always like this?” you asked the girl seated next to you.

“Yup, pretty much,” she replied. “That is, of course, in between the times when they aren’t getting any work done… and the times when they still aren’t getting any work done.”

You laughed. “Well, at least one person here seems to have a level-head.”

“Make that two,” she said, giving you a smile. “My name is Akilah. What’s yours?”

You told her your full name before giving her your nickname, Wren, as well.

“Wren…” she pondered. “Not as in Kylo Ren, right?”

“No, no, no, stars, no,” you emphasized. “It’s the name of a- ” You paused, reconsidering. “I actually don’t know where it comes from, my friends just started calling me by it one day...”

Akilah stared at you intently for a few moments before Takoda shouted over at the two of you.

“Hey, you two aren’t gossiping about us now, are ya?”

You sighed, “Nope, just getting to know Akilah here.”

Rilea poked her head out from behind Takoda, “She's my best friend too!”

You mentally face-palmed and turned to fully face the group.

“So, this is the artist workspace?” you questioned, skeptically.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, I wouldn’t go that far as to say we are artists,” said Takoda.

You were confused. “But I thought-”

“You thought wrong. Here, you just follow the rules and instructions laid out for you. We are given colors, words, and images, and it’s simply our job to assemble it all into a neat poster or flyer for distribution.”

“Oh…” you replied, disappointed.

“I’m not even an artist,” he continued. “They just stuck me here after I was medically discharged from the trooper program. For the most part, everyone in this sector just got placed here because there was nothing else they could do”

“So why did they bother hiring me then?” you questioned. “If I’m gonna be honest, I’m used to a little more creative freedom back home. They could’ve chosen anyone for this job.”

“I don’t know,” Takoda replied. “Maybe they want their propaganda to look good for a change.” He smirked.

“Where did you say you were from again, bestie?” Rilea asked.

“Oh, I didn’t,” you replied. “I’m from Lothal.”

Immediately, each member of the team looked at each other, worried.

“Lothal…” Rilea repeated. “That’s one of the Order's targeted planets right now. I have a feeling that pretty soon we'll be distributing posters there. Maybe Hux thinks you can help reason with the people there?”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Akilah added. “First Order propaganda would be a lot easier to accept coming from a fellow citizen.”

You pondered their words. What they were saying was probably true: you were simply a tool to be used by the First Order. They didn’t care about your talent or passion; they just needed your image.

“Well, I don't know how helpful I'd be on that front,” you sighed, pausing. “So what is the project you are working on now?”

“We’ll know soon enough,” said Takoda. “Our fourth member should be returning soon with our new assignment.”

“Fourth member?” you questioned.

At that moment, the door swung open with a dramatic bang, revealing a tall, lanky boy with jet black hair and evergreen eyes. He was pale with light freckles speckling his face and arms. His eyes narrowed when they met yours, scrutinizing your presence.

“Look, here he is, ‘fun-sized Kylo’ himself,” Takoda quipped.

Rilea leaned towards you. “He claims that he adopted the whole ‘tormented soul, dramatic hair’ look before Ren even thought of it,” she snickered.

You were confused, but luckily Akilah came to your rescue.

“This is Soren,” she explained. “Our fourth member… Well, fifth, now.”

“Oh!” you replied, stretching out your hand for him to shake. “It’s nice to meet you I’m -”

“Irrelevant,” he interrupted bluntly, briskly brushing past you to sit at the back of the room.

You stood there, hand still outstretched, looking to the others for guidance.

Takoda spoke first, turning to face Soren. “Hey, laser brain, why don’t ya try being a little nicer to our newest member.”

“This is our newest member?” he responded, disapprovingly. “She doesn’t look like the First Order’s finest.”

“That’s because I’m not,” you interjected, defensive. “I’m from Lothal originally. Today is technically my first day with the Order.”

At the mention of your home planet, Soren visibly tensed, his fingers curling into tight fists. The other three looked nervously at each other; they knew something you didn’t.

Akilah, again, interrupted the tense silence. “We should probably get to work… What’s the new assignment Sor?”

Hearing her voice, he seemed to relax a little, pulling out a few papers with various sketches and color swatches.

“They want us to design posters directed at the people of Dantooine. The First Order is currently working to establish a blockade on the planet. It is our job to convince the natives to submit, while also showing them that they have the ability to contribute their own assets to our cause.”

You frowned, unsure of a few posters' ability to do such a thing. You were familiar with Dantooine; its history was deeply rooted in rebel allegiance. You doubted that a few pieces of paper could somehow shift the ingrained attitudes of thousands of people. But then again, you were an artist. And as an artist, it was your job to put blind faith into your work, simply hoping that others could see what you saw in it.

“How successful has this First Order propaganda been in the past?” you asked, genuinely curious.

Takoda laughed. “Not very. Usually, it just makes the citizens more angry. But that kind of works in favor of the Order: as soon as the rebels and their sympathizers become violent, whatever happens to them at the hands of the Order is then justified, so to speak.”

“What would happen if we tried to mix things up a bit? Like attempting a different style, color scheme, or whatever it may be, to make the posters more effective?” you suggested.

Suddenly serious, Takoda spoke. “No. We don’t do anything without the Order’s permission. Never. That’s our number one rule. We can mess around and make jokes all we want in here, but whatever finished product leaves this room has to be exactly what was requested of us.”

Something in Takoda’s voice made it seem like there was history behind this rule — history that didn't conclude with a happy ending. Looking around the room, you knew you were right. Everyone, except for Soren, was avoiding your gaze, choosing to stare at their shoes or the floor. Soren continued to bore into you with a death-glare, but your instincts told you he was like this with everyone and not to take it too personally.

“Yeah, I get it,” you responded. Soren looked at you sceptically. “Trust me, you have nothing to worry about. I’m on my last warning with General Hux — another mistake will pretty much guarantee my head a new home in the trash compactor.”

“Speaking of Hux, we are to report to him tomorrow with drafts,” Soren finally spoke up.

“Tomorrow?!” Rilea exclaimed.

“Yup,” Soren replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Of course he would pull something like this, giving us less than 24 hours notice...” Rilea muttered, irritated.

“Stars, I swear that man is 90% petulant child, 7% attempted scariness, and 3% toupee,” you responded.

This earned a chuckle from the group. Even Soren managed a smirk.

“Yeah, well, sadly, that petulant child has a big red button sitting under his bony finger that can destroy entire planets in the blink of an eye,” said Akilah, quietly. “So, we should probably get to work.”

“She’s right,” you say, desperate to end any talk of Hux. “Let’s start.”

And with that, the five of you began work on what was your first official project on the Finalizer. Akilah showed you how to accurately read the diagrams that the Order had provided. Rilea and Takoda attempted to work for a few minutes before devolving into yet another tissue paper fight. Soren sat quietly in the corner, working on the new project, glancing up every now and then at you and Akilah.

Despite the hectic menagerie of personalities that surrounded you, you were glad that you weren't stuck working with cold, robotic First Order employees like Ms. Stoney. You desperately wanted to ask your new friends about their backstories and how they came to be “artists” on the Finalizer, but Takoda and Rilea were busy stuffing tissues in each other’s ears, and Akilah and Soren seemed like the ‘work in silence’ types. You decided to settle with your own thoughts for now; it wasn’t as if you were lacking them.

It occurred to you that tomorrow you would have to face Hux again, the memory of what he sneered at you in the hallway this morning still fresh in your mind: Strike two.

You didn’t know what strike three would involve, but you definitely didn’t want to find out.

Unfortunately, you didn't get that lucky.

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

Previous || Masterlist || Next

[ddaenghoney]

chapter fourteen

masterlist link in blog description.

As a successful songwriter, you want nothing more than the acknowledgment that the chart-topping musical pieces are your own creations. But contracts, relationships, and the difficulty of facing the stakes involved head on, keep your mouth shut until pressure builds too much.

Pairing(s): Park Jimin x Y/N, Min Yoongi x Y/N

disclaimer: any characters depicted do not represent the actual personality of the respected idol in real life.

Series warning(s)/genre(s): Chapter-based written fic, Slow-burn relationship(s), Fake-dating, Unrequited love, Songwriter/producer!oc, idol!Jimin, idol/songwriter/producer!Yoongi, friends with benefits, drama, romance, smut, angst, fluff (updated as needed)

Chapter warning(s): none.

Word count: 5053

if you enjoy please, please let me know!

“The cover art is really simple.” Your eyes scan over the imagery of a black background with three muted color swatches arranged in rectangles meant to represent the ambiance of each track respectfully. Squeezing your hands that settled long ago on Yoongi’s right shoulder and upper arm, you bite your lip watching him type in an equally succinct description.

“Want to wait until we can design something?” He shifts his head with a shake so that his bangs cease obscuring his view as he glances up at you. A tiny shake of your head is your reply along with silence, appearing contemplative. “We can if you want.”

“If I don’t let you do it now, I think I’ll be putting it off forever.” You admit sheepishly. Your nervous eyes look towards Yoongi’s warm stare and a little smile breaks onto your face to try and hide the spilling nerves. “Really, Yoon, I like how it looks I’m not worried about the art to be honest with you.”

He nods gently, then pushes his chair a couple inches aside causing your hand on his arm to fall away while the other remains with a firm squeeze that Yoongi pays no mind to. “You want to be the one to click publish?”

“Me?” You startle, looking back towards the screen. The little red button in the corner reading ‘submit’ appears utterly normal and unassuming, yet the implications of what it will do are vastly opposite. You never thought about how jarring just releasing tracks could feel; while there is excited anticipation brewing in your chest, you can’t stop the conflicting nerves of wonder about the reception to find their way into each heartbeat as well. “I’m probably acting dramatic, aren’t I?”

“Not really.” Yoongi repels your self-consciousness, reaching his hand to cover over the top of yours on his shoulder, “It’s scary putting something you worked so hard on out there; I get it, sweetie.”

You nod, lips tightening from his voice’s comfort, and the pieces of worry that evaporate just because of his hand finding yours. Taking away the smallness of being alone, Yoongi assures you that he’s as much a part of this as you are. The name of his account, and your own next to the abbreviated producer title of the first track and written in the credential section of all three repeat the conjoinment of both of your responsibility for anything that can come from release.

With an exhale, you reach for the mouse, hovering the cursor over that red button that felt as much of a warning as it did a start. When you consider your beginnings of production five years earlier, you can almost believe this little action is entirely overdue. If you hadn’t given up so much of your voice for the job, maybe this would be a common occurrence by now, but then maybe as well you wouldn’t have the luxury of reaching this place alongside Yoongi.

Your index finger presses onto the mouse, allowing the millisecond clicking sound to practically blast through the room.

The screen takes barely anytime to refresh and reappear with a speeding loading meter. You watch it climb like the acceleration of your heartbeat, not for a moment taking consideration of the cancel button that lingers in the bottom corner. Yoongi’s hand grows tighter over top of yours, silently watching as well. Another page refreshes, announcing success and highlighting a link to share with anyone, as a short description tells that the public can now access on the music streaming service.

“Oh my god,” You dribble out exclamatory ramblings, then turn to look at Yoongi who looks up at you after a second longer of reading the information on the screen. Despite the shock excluding your expression, Yoongi smiles up at you, grinning teeth peeking through as you remain motionless.

“Congratulations, angel.” He says, rubbing your hand while allowing the moment to catch up with you. It does so in a slow eruption of a smile on your face, one that leaves you a little bouncy in enthusiasm,

“Yoongi,” You pull your hand away covering your mouth with both of them though it doesn’t hide the evident happiness taking over your expression. Yoongi’s empathetic glow of thrill for you remains as he stands from his seat, mixing a laugh into a gasp when you hop against him into a full hug. Nearly tripping backwards, his arms cross around you as his foot plants firmly to keep himself upright. “Thank you so much, Yoon. Really, really thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me, angel, but you’re welcome.” He mumbles quickly, not wanting to take any of the moment’s attention from you. Instead his ands rub your back soothingly, elated from how happy you cling onto him with your face buried into the crook of his neck. “You want to go do something to celebrate?”

“Yes,” You nod, as you look upwards at him, ignoring the close proximity of your faces while you pay more attention to your toes remaining balance on the ground. “Please. Let’s get out of here-- we’ll probably get hunted down if we hang around.”

Within a few short minutes, the two of you stroll quickly down the hall, arriving at the elevator as you situate your bag’s strap over your shoulder. Yoongi adjusts a mask along his chin, keeping it off his mouth and nose until exiting the building. Your mind trails over a million ideas of comments that will find their way onto the internet in response, creating a reason for you to avoid looking at any social media for as long as possible.

You send a text to a groupchat with Namjoon and Seokjin instead, vague about details, but factually accurate with the most important news about Yoongi and you dropping the three tracks into the world without any warning. Expecting a reply from either as soon as one reads the shocking text, you keep your phone in your grasp, but bite your lip at the troublesome nag that Yerin could just as easily try and get in contact with you any moment as well.

“You okay?” Yoongi ducks his head, eyes studying any emotion on your face, as you sigh to ward thoughts away. Dropping your phone into the confines of your bag to leave the world at bay, you nod at him. “Without thinking about the bad things, the music itself is really good, angel. Try to just focus on that. Everyone is bound to like your work.” He continues to alleviate, stretching an arm in your direction which your hand happily takes to grab hold of his waiting appendage again. Entwining the fingers, he gives you a protective squeeze, listening to the elevator stop and announce the ground level, “Let’s just celebrate tonight. This is a happy occasion.”

“You’re right, yeah. I was just trying to let Joon and Jin know about it, but then I started thinking about everything too much.” You explain as you both step from the elevator into the staff lobby, where Yoongi can receive his car from the valet service. “What do you think we should go eat?”

Yoongi hums in thought, contemplating locations as he waves to one of the employees who knows him by face and starts off down to the garage level immediately. “I guess something to go with drinks. Barbeque usually says celebration, right?” He turns to you, as you lean against the counter fiddling with his fingers between both of your hands.

“You just love meat.” You smile up at him, straying one of your hands to pat against his chest as he pouts his lips above his mask and shrugs nonchalantly in response.

“Well, maybe-- but it is celebratory food, isn’t it?”

“Hmm...” You giggle as he gently jiggles your linked hands to further enhance a sales pitch,

“Why don’t you invite Namjoon and Jin? I bet they’d want to come.”

You roll your eyes at his attempt to push the desire for barbeque, though you’re inclined to agree because of the warm weather of summer evenings making the meal idea enticing. Ready to give in to stop Yoongi’s growing pout that seems more begging now than casually pitching the meal, your words never come out as the elevator’s sound again registers in your sense and you watch Jimin exit out.

The sparse amount of people in the lobby cause him to notice you and Yoongi in little time. Where you anticipated a small nod and walk away, you find his eyes linger instead, full of invisibly flurry despite the solemn expression encompassing his body language. You don’t turn away, instincts causing prickles of wonder in your chest, that grow into worry when you catch him smother a frown away.

Your suddenly tight squeeze on Yoongi’s hands, prompt him to turn his head back to check what you see. Watching Jimin step towards the little group of you two, Yoongi lifts himself from leaning on the counter, shifting so that he can face the casually dressed brunette.

“Hey,” Jimin greets the words towards you, and gives a nod of his head to Yoongi amicably. The tone of his voice is polite, but not like usual. Your eyebrows furrow in response to the fact, but you can’t dwell as Jimin goes on, “Hopefully you’re okay after what that guy said earlier?”

“Oh, yeah,” You nod, having practically forgotten about the producer for the past couple of hours. “He’s always been rude, so I don’t really care.” You explain, catching Yoongi’s pensive expression in the corner of your eye. Likely gauging the situation of your comfort. “Thanks again for saying something, Jimin.”

“It wasn’t really anything,” He shrugs off your words, glancing towards the exit doors as a driver parks a car in the small archway. “Definitely not something that deserves thanks.”

The absentmindedness of his eyes are a familiar sight, not a common occurrence, but you’ve seen it before. Appearing cluttered amidst thoughts, Jimin acts abnormal, but not in the way as a reaction to the strained memories between you too. Something other than that bothers him, you realize and can’t stop the quiet questioning, “Are you okay?”

Yoongi glances towards you as you ask, finding a genuine focus for the man in front of you in your eyes. When he looks towards Jimin whose appearance seems hesitant at your line of questioning, Yoongi for a moment wonders if there’s still entanglement between you both. You haven’t brought up Jimin in weeks now, but certainly the thought of him crosses your mind, Yoongi realizes this, but watching forms a knot in his throat. Small, yet distinctly there as he stands separate from you both, despite his hands holding yours.

The moment of understanding startles him internally and his hand breaks from your own, as he comes back into reality hearing the employee from before calling his name. He turns back towards the counter, to retrieve his keys, listening on as the thread in his throat continues crossing in and out of itself, building up and for what reason.

“Yeah,” Wearily spoken, Jimin watches your short glance at Yoongi as his hand released yours. When your eyes quickly come back to his own, Jimin just shrugs a shoulder, forcing a half-hearted smile, “Long day… That’s all.”

Undeniably, there exists the beginnings of a line, that you have no reason to speak beyond what Jimin explains to you without substance of whatever is obviously wrong. Given all of the distance grown, and separation that has caused the awkwardness of strangers with history to fester between you both, you have no reason to go beyond the casual conversation, but you can’t erase his expression. You’re certain those around you would assume his response to be literal, but there’s more underneath it, you can see it.

You could see there was more beneath his response of surprise when you kissed him for the first time years ago, and you can just as easily decipher that there is something Jimin didn’t disclose that makes his person appear so recluse and uncertain. Worry doesn’t contain itself in your mind, instead flooding out from your heart practically shoving it, “Do you want to talk?”

It doesn’t feel wrong to ask him, but watching Jimin’s eyebrows twitch a bit wider you know the question is unexpected. Your lips tighten, trying to ignore the idea that you’ve made a mistake in offering. You turn towards Yoongi to alleviate the tension in your throat, to make the question lighter as you go on, “Right, we have time until the evening; I can talk to him and meet you afterwards?”

The second the sentence concludes you feel as though you’ve done even more wrong. Yoongi’s glance towards Jimin isn’t casual, closer to an examination, then he returns his eyes to you. It’s a small moment, but how Yoongi looks at you isn’t warm, but perhaps hurt. Disappointed in your decision, you think. Then it’s squashed away as he nods his head,

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

Blinking in confusion of his reaction, you stay stunned silent and only watch as Yoongi nods his head towards Jimin and walks around the two of you towards his car outside. Frowning now, you consider if you’ve said anything for him to get so visibly upset about. Even if he’s disappointed that you want to lend Jimin an ear, Yoongi’s completely altered mannerisms seem off.

“Y/N,” You look towards Jimin as he calls out to you and smiles gently, tiredly as he continues, “You don’t have to let me rant to you. I’m sure you don’t really want to.”

“I do though.” You reiterate, mentally frustrated by why Yoongi walked away. “You seem sad about something,” Explaining your perspective, your hands squeeze together, trying to settle in belief that what you’ve done isn’t wrong-- you don’t have to act like Jimin was the worst memory of your life, despite the changes since you’ve spoken to him, he was still important to you. He’s still human and capable of feeling sad, needing someone to listen; if you’re the one worried why wouldn’t you let him. You still care about his well being, it’s that simple, “Is it wrong of me to talk to you?”

“Well, no,” He says simply, biting his lip, and you wonder if his hesitation is due to Yoongi’s reaction as well or because of the strain between you two. “Then let’s go so you won’t be too late to meet him later on.”

---

“I’m actually kind of surprised you picked a cafe.” You admit quietly, looking down at your pretty, light lavender tea drink. Lifting your eyes up to Jimin you find him adjusting a stray lock under the confines of his cap where the rest of his hair has been hidden away. As though that is the bulk of his identity, and not the designer graphic shirt and expensive Doc Martins wouldn’t bring any attention, he sits back into his chair,

“Well, it’s not busy right now,” He says, which is fair considering only another single person typing away on their laptop sits on the opposite side of the establishment. “Besides if anyone says anything it’s easier to deny anything wrong with your fake relationship.”

“Yeah,” You murmur, forgetting about that public aspect between you and Yoongi often times lately. “I guess that’s true.” You stir your drink with the straw, less interested in drinking it. “So what happened that made you look so sad?” “Ah,” Jimin rubs his jaw, remembering the conversation with Yerin. He looks at your person, finding little details that have changed and others that haven’t, but most notably acknowledges your leave and its freeing effect on your expression. It almost feels not fair to complain to you when you’re taking everything SoundWave and himself to an extent have held away from you.

He’s caught in your gaze when you finally turn towards him expectant of an answer, but he really doesn’t feel like he should tell you. Why did he agree to speak with you in the first place. The largest part of Jimin’s heart simply wanted to see you again, but what is there to say. You shouldn’t have to listen to his tales of stagnation any longer. He doesn’t want to dwell on that, so his lips keep the meeting a secret as he changes the direction,

“I’m really sorry that I never told you how I felt about your contract earlier.” Knowing this isn’t what you expected him to say, Jimin isn’t surprised as he watches your eyes drift into shock and your mouth to part slightly. “I know I should’ve.” He smiles bitterly, glancing towards the drinks on the small table. “I love you. I didn’t want to ruin us, but that wasn’t fair of me.”

“Is,” Your slowly spoken speech causes you to ball your hands onto your lap, “Is that why you looked upset?” Regret continuing to jumble his days, like how you would recall the months of silence when you kept the questions you had to yourself.

“Maybe in some ways,” He ponders, still avoiding eye contact as he instead taps his index finger once on the laminated wood. “Yerin’s always told me that I can’t do for myself what you do for everyone in the company.” You narrow your eyes, about to cut in and ask what he means but Jimin goes on. “When I was going to debut they had it set that I wouldn’t produce any of the music, but I thought that would be short-term while I learned how in the meantime.” You watch his lips contort into a dissatisfied frown, “But when it stayed like that and I asked to try making my own music she’d always say that route is worthless for the company.”

“You tried to make your own music?” The statement falls out of your lips like a question in disbelief. Always believing he had no interest from the fact he never showed you even a line of his work.

“Of course,” He chuckles, rubbing his face as the memories wash over hours of work to create samples that were passed on each and every time. “I want to be a performer and make as much of my own stuff that I can, but,” The two of you know what he means when he stops speaking. There was never an opportunity for Jimin to even try. “According to Yerin, if you and other producers didn’t make everything themselves, I’d be out of a job as an idol.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jimin turns towards your risen voice, finding your forehead creased in frustration, lips frowning like you hadn’t been trusted. He swallows air, not sure if you’d find his reasoning acceptable, because even Jimin thinks it’s just a testament to how cowardly he acted.

“I never mentioned the song rejections because I was embarrassed,” He pauses noticing your expression become more hurt, but he doesn’t stop. “You’re a genius at making songs, and I thought I was so bad at it that I couldn’t even be successful on my own without the company making everything that I am.” Jimin watches you continue to bite your lip, perhaps holding back words until he’s finished.

“But by the time you started talking about wanting to receive credit for your songs, I got scared that everything would fall apart for my own career.” He groans, rubbing his face with both hands as he shakes his head, “I know it was fucking greedy-- I really do know that, when I think about it now I get so upset. You’re getting what you deserve now though; you’ll be able to do what you want as a songwriter and producer and I’m glad. It took me losing you to get over being selfish and that’s always going to be something I have to live with, but if anything good came out of this I’m glad it’s you moving on. I’m happy for you,” When he smiles, Jimin wonders why you no longer look willing to speak. “Even if I’m not in your life anymore, I’ll still support whatever you do. I promise that.”

---

Namjoon, 6:14pm: You and Yoongi did WHAT?

Seokjin, 6:16pm: Tell me why the first song of the three is so good. How did you both make it so good?

Namjoon, 6:26pm: Y/N respond, you can’t just send a vague fucking text like that and not say anything else, where are you at and what is going on?

You stare at the four hour old text messages from just moments after your initial message in the groupchat. The words bump around as the taxi goes over rough asphalt rounding a corner, but you don’t think of a reply. Too focused on the conversation between you and Jimin that concluded just as the sun was halfway away for the night. You put your phone away in your bag, feeling the car drift to a stop as the reasons for Jimin’s silence repeat in your mind over and over.

So absentmindedly you saunter into the apartment complex, filing into the elevator and clicking the floor number while you try and think of why he would have never told you about his own problems with Yerin. No matter how the sentences repeat, it sounds like he was manipulated into submission as well as you were, yet to the extent of being your enemy in a way. Though you doubted he was actively conscious of the fact for so long, and even so Jimin’s already apologized to you. He’s settled the confusion, so why are you dwelling?

It takes a moment to realize where you are, and with a shake of your head you press your finger into the doorbell, then use the same hand to rub your temples. There’s a piece you can’t connect within yourself, that makes the conversation had so unnatural from how you would assume you’d react. You just sigh, trying to settle down your head before startling at the front door opening.

Yoongi reveals behind the door, simply looking at you for a moment. He steps back to open it wider, “You look like you’re drained.”

“Thanks.” You huff, stepping into his apartment,while frowning at the idea that everyone who has seen you probably thought the same way. You dismiss the thoughts, turning back towards Yoongi, but having to shimmy around once more as he walks off towards his couch. “Yoon-” You start a question out of confusion, but pause as you recall his dismissive exit earlier from the company.

Slowly you step towards the couch after him, watching as he slumps into the corner. You stop short of his lounging legs, head tilting as you watch him rub his face and stifle a groan, “Does your head hurt?” “No,” He laughs at your observation, in a way non judgemental, but genuinely humored by its simplicity. Then Yoongi lets his arms fall to either side of him, while he looks up toward the ceiling, “No. I acted dumb earlier. I’m sorry about it.”

“Well, I messed up our plans for dinner to talk to Jimin. I get why you would be disappointed in me. I’m sure it seemed really weird for me to do.”

“I wasn’t disappointed.” Yoongi speaks flatly, hand toying with the hair most atop his head while continuing to look up towards the ceiling. “When I was talking to Hoseok about it he said I acted like I was jealous.”

You giggle a little, thinking of the implication of the emotion and finding it a bit out of place for Yoongi’s character. From what you’ve learned about him he seems entirely trusting, though not always calm, still understanding enough to know there wasn’t a need when Jimin and you have only a completely collapsed relationship between you both.

Then you wonder about the idea of why you find the need for Yoongi to be jealous to be silly. Why would he find himself jealous about Jimin, and why do you automatically think it’s baseless.

“Did the talk go well?”

“What?” You blurt, looking up from the floor to Yoongi. His head straightens properly to look at you, finding your question strange. His lips frown towards you and then you realize what you’ve said and shake your head, “Oh, yeah.” You shrug, as Yoongi sits up, feet lying flat on the floor.

“What happened?” He asks with narrowing eyes, voice softly concerned that something went wrong because of your scattered disposition. “Did he say something, angel?”

Before his questions register you consider his nickname for you, wondering when he began using it but finding no point of time in particular. “He apologized to me.”

Yoongi notices his heart beat louder than usual, but does his best to ignore the unneeded anxiousness. “For what?”

“He was telling me that he should’ve never been selfish about wanting me to keep being uncredited. Yerin made him think he can’t succeed without all of the construction behind the scenes,” You bite your lip, thinking about the amount of worry he most likely had along with its confliction because you’re sure he truly didn’t want to hurt you through any of the internal issues. “He said he regrets losing him and I because of his fear.”

“Then what’s stopping you both from getting back together again?” Yoongi speaks without filter, but wants to retract every word instantly. The knot in his throat returns, and he wants to stop from hearing whatever you could say. He recalls the concern laced in your eyes upon seeing Jimin earlier and thinks that he doesn’t want the idea of returning to be considered.

But as you look up at him with widening eyes, Yoongi realizes he doesn’t want to get hurt by potentiality. His voice takes over again, “If he had told you then, you’d still be together with him, wouldn’t you?”

“But he didn’t tell me then!” You retort instantly, volume picking up from the insinuation of his words to push you back towards Jimin.

Yoongi stays quiet, watching you with a forming frown as you appear to grow frustrated. He should leave it at this, he should’ve divulge further, but it bothers him still-- that nagging memory of you being unaware that he took his hand from yours earlier, and all of the other instances he’s watched you be heartbroken because of Jimin-- because, “You still love him though.”

Your shoulders visibly lose tension, Yoongi swallows hard at the sight of it. Inhaling a deep breath, you consider his assumption. Consider that you haven’t brought up Jimin in so long only to go out of your way to privately speak with him right in front of Yoongi’s eyes. Consider that you never thought about the direction of your feelings for Jimin after more than a month.

When the memories play over in your head once more, you can say that they still fill you with a bittersweet joy. Thinking of all of the times you spent with Jimin while the two of you were so new to the idol industry, it’s natural to be fond.You were friends with Jimin long before there became the physical relationship, and you’ve cared for him in growing ways ever since you met him.

Jimin isn’t a bad person. And from where you left off with him today, you’re positive towards the idea that he’s changed from the fear in his yelling months earlier at the party. You still believe he’s capable of more than that and seeing whatever comes for him is a warm thought. You still care about him. There has never been a question of your changing care towards Jimin when he played such a large role in your life for so many years, you want what would be best for him.

But as you look on at Yoongi, you can’t find the perspective that he seems to believe about you. The thought never occurred to you, and certainly you can’t pinpoint a day of change, but when you try and consider fixing what has broken between you and Jimin you’re unable to process a way. And when you find Yoongi’s eyes staring straight into yours, you find that you haven’t thought about Jimin through a rose colored lense in awhile.

“No, I don’t.”

Yoongi stays silent, replaying your response in his head quite a few times. His eyebrows narrow, muted disbelief surfacing on his face as he stands from the couch. Your eyes follow his, Yoongi catches the fact as well as your lips tightening into a line, maybe out of surprise for your own words. But before he’s able to think further your head shakes,

“I haven’t for weeks now.” You take a breath, shocking yourself by how you’re able to go on about this despite realizing it only as the words escape, “I did, but I really don’t anymore.” Your hair shakes as you twist your head back and forth, wondering if there was ever a precise moment where your feelings no longer extended towards Jimin.

“I never even thought about the idea that I had stopped,” You laugh at the nonsense of the fact, watching Yoongi’s feet pad forward, eyes evidently concerned to some extent about your ramblings. “It’s so weird-- you’d think I would’ve figured it out sooner, right?” You ignore Yoongi shaking his head to your words. “I don’t know when I stopped, or,” 

You let him take your hand into his for comfort, not-believing it would remain for long. But you selfishlessly let the touch linger onwards. Undoubtedly the shock of your conclusions will make Yoongi pull away. There’s time to stop, you think that there’s no reason to shovel out so many of your emotional words at once. It’s impulsive, without calculation for any of the words you’ve said, but you think about the meaning of your last ones. Knowing there should be more tact and grace, or build up that isn’t after the rantings of your ending feelings in your past relationship, but through all of this, the words themselves no longer wish to be kept hidden in the background of your mind, so they flutter out in an exasperated whisper,

“Or when I started having feelings for you.”

if you enjoy please, please let me know via ask, comment, rb with tags– however ! i’d just really appreciate feedback 🥺 i hope you enjoy the series, i’m working really hard on it! : )

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