#return the insults is something i truly did once. me and a customer were just rude to eachother for like an hour straight

[aemonds-wifey]

Home Part Two

You say goodbye to your father , but a new chapter of your life with Aemond is just beginning

The time had come to say goodbye to your dear father and lay him to rest , a harsh blizzard had enclosed around Winterfell, which made standing in the crypt so much more chilling to the bone. The brassic wind was so strong the candles that lit the crypt danced when the wind blew.

Your uncle Bennard also attended, a kind man accompanied by his sons- Cregan and him never saw eye to eye. Bennard was ruling as regent as Rickon was not yet of age. Tensions had risen between them, something that made you glad you lived away- you did not get involved in these bitter disputes between them. You supported your uncle as Regent, Cregan was reckless at times.

The spectacle of a northern funeral had Aemond captivated, he observed the customs and respectfully took part in the whole event- much to your brothers annoyance as he kindly suggested earlier.

“Perhaps the prince would like to relax …maybe see to his dragon.”

To which Aemond brushed off your brothers foolish attempts to insult and separate him from you, he only stood by your side and answered without blinking “I will stand with my wife today and pay my own respects to your late father…”

Cregan did not pester him anymore that day, Aemond never left your side.

Reality finally sank in as you saw your father laid in the stone crypt next to your mother, you closed your eyes for a moment to fight back an outpouring of distress, which was only reinforced when you felt Aemonds hand rest on your shoulder. He squeezed it gently before letting side around your other shoulder and pulling you against him, you exhaled as you opened your eyes. A few tears escaped, but your father was at peace and no longer suffering with ailments that had tormented him.

Cregan looked at Aemond out of the corner of his eye, then returning to look at the tomb of his father and bowed his head as Aemond did not take his eye of you, he tentatively rubbed your arm, You were his priority. Before you were due to leave the crypts, you placed a hand on the stone were your father now slept enterally underneath . Sharply inhaling you silently said goodbye, with your other hand you placed the creamy lit pillar candle on top of the stone. Your father may be gone but his memory will never be forgotten.

As the blizzard eased you all made your way to the godswood and stood before the weirwood tree. The new blanket of deep snow made it an uneasy path to walk, but Aemond never let his hold on you ease.

He only stood back when You and your brother kept your heads down in silent prayer to the old gods, you only wished for your father to rest in peace and for him to be happily reunited with your mother. He watched you , like a hawk he never blinked once.

In wake of your fathers burial Cregan had the people gathered in the Great hall.

Aemond left your side momentarily to speak with the Maester and the Sept, you stood alone and Cregan approached you

“Sister ..” he said

You only nodded “Father would have loved this….it was a fitting funeral for him.”

Cregan looked at Aemond and then back to you “Are you truly happy sister …he takes care of you?”

You did not even hesitate “He does - I’m very content.”

He cleared his throat “And the king …I hear he is unwell?”

You only sighed, Viserys deterioration was a sad sight, he had been nothing but kind to you. “ He has seen better days but he lingers on…he has remarkable strength.”

“And Rhenerya will still succeed him as Queen?” He questioned quietly

You did not answer , you only folded your arms “Brother now is not the time to discuss such things…” you said trying to keep your voice down.

“Y/N our father pledged to her …” he said

You looked at the floor then at him with a steady tone“It is not my place to talk about the succession…nor is it my concern brother, you mistake me for Otto Hightower it seems.”

He stood closer “It is your concern ..:you are a married to a Prince of the realm …do you think she will let you stay in kings Landing and share the red keep?”

“I will not share anything with those ba-“ you stopped yourself

Cregan looked at you in disbelief before he could answer you felt a slight twinge in your stomach, you needed some fresh air. You excused yourself and swiftly left the hall, Aemond noticed you leave Cregans side and shot him a long intimidating look, even with one eye he managed to make Cregan retreat to the dining table.

Aemond made his way to the door, taking a heavy cloak and wrapping around himself as the cold hit him harder than it did you…but this is where you grew up, the winter was party of your soul. Even as he walked past complete strangers , they all noted his eye patch and reduced themselves to mindless whispers, they knew who he was. But Aemond was only focused on finding the one person who did not look at him How they did. The snow storm had eased and as the sun started to set Aemond walked on looking around - he walked In the direction of the godswood and found you standing facing the tree- looking incredibly pensive.

You heard the crunching of Aemonds footsteps a few feet behind you, you turned around and smiled at his sight , he looked concerned “Shall I introduce him to Vhagar?” He asked .

You managed to produce a small smile “It’s a tempting offer.”

You only held Out your hand inviting Aemond to comeCloser, he took your hand and he stood with you.

“You’re cold.” You said covering his hands under your thick black cloak

“Mmmm and you are not…” he said searching your face “has he upset you?”

You shook your head “No he just …it’s been a tough day for us both, he is still adjusting to his new position .”

“Hmmmm.” Aemond hummed “It’s been a long day for you…how do you feel?”

You rubbed his hands under your cloak and inhaled “Tired…but I am well…”

He leaned forward and kissed your forehead , you looked up at him “Thank you…for being here with me.”

He almost scoffed but kept his smile “No need…I needed to see if you were alright.”

“I thank the gods I have such a dutiful and loving husband.” You said smiling

He looked down at the snow then slowly back up at you “I was not compelled by duty to be here…I simply could not let you attend this occasion without me…I wanted to be by your side …”

You were frozen by his words, but in awe of how he was opening up to you, even for you Aemond expressing himself like this was a truly soul enriching experience .

He was unsure what to say, you cleared your throat- nodding at the old tree before you.

“I came here…as a child almost daily to pray first for my mother.” You admitted as Aemond stood by your side, studying your face

“What was she like?” Aemond asked

You rarely spoke Of her, she died when you were so young you had no concrete memory of her, only

Distant fleeing flashes of nee laugh, her smile

And her demise. You never spoke of her passing to Aemond, the birthing bed killed her and the younger brother she was carrying - but you would not tell him…not today.

“A true northern beauty is what my father told Me.”

Aemond nodded “ I noticed her statue in the crypt…I see the likeness of her in you..” he observed “You inherited her beauty.”

You almost blushed , Aemond smiled with you as you continued to talk “she was from the Glover family….alas I do not remember her a lot..I was only a young child when she left this world but my father told me to pray for her and so I did…” as you looked at the bark of the tree Aemond followed your gaze .

You looked at his handsome face , his eye examining the face carved into the tree.

“Then it was you I prayed for.” You continued , Aemonds eye widened in shock as it returned to your face “Me?”

You nodded facing him “After that night…I prayed that your pain would ease, hoping we would reunite soon and justice would come to those strong boys.”

Aemond chuckled as he stood practically towering over you “Mmm…pay them no heed my love .” He said kissing the top of your head.

You inhaled slowly as Aemond wrapped you in a hug , his cloak sheltering your dress from the occasional snowflakes falling.

“And prey tell me …did you come here to pray for a safe journey home?” He asked softly

“Partially ….” You answered

Aemond looked down at you , his eye full of inquisitive wonder “My love I do not follow? “

You gently brought Aemonds hands down your body and ,held them above your stomach.

“I’m with child Aemond.” You smiled “Our second dragon grows within me.”

He gasped in delight and smiled before kissing you happily. He knelt down and faced your stomach, smiling as he leant his forehead against your body - the fierce Aemond Targaryen was kneeling in the snow at your mercy , in a spell of bliss he looked up at you “A girl…” he said

“You believe I am carrying a daughter?” You asked as you watched him stand back up, he was so happy and filled with joy you were excited to see Aemond like this.

“I know it…” he said “When did you discover this joyful news?”

“The day before we left Kings landing…”

Aemond opened his mouth to speak, but he remembered you had just been told your father had passed just three days before you left the capital .“Had I known…the news could have upset you and our girl…”

You shook your head “No my love…I am glad it was you who told me…nobody could be such a comfort as you are in times of distress …”

He looked at you again, his eye scanning your face “I adore you…and until my last breath I will not let you go a day without hearing it.” He leaned in closely and kissed you ever so sweetly. You collapsed into His kiss and surrendered to his body- returning a kiss to him and smiling with heartfelt affection , you never wanted this feeling to end.

You both looked up as the snow began to fall , Aemond smiled at the natural wonder that he was seeing. It did start to feel slightly colder, but Aemond did not care - he kissed your forehead and pulled his arm around you , you both retreated back to your chambers were the hearth was already crackling and warm. Aemond sat on the bed , he pulled you over to stand in front of him where his arms rested around your waist and met at your back, his head rested against your stomach - your fingers found themselves running through his beautiful , soft silver hair.

“How does it feel to be home again?” He said against your bodice.

“My love I am holding my home in my arms.” You said smiling. Aemond only held you closer, you felt at ease already and secure , as you held each other silently , all was well.

TAGS

@schniiipsel @moonchildrenandflowercrowns @chainsawsangel @mischiefmanaged71 @nolongereviliwantlove @motley-baby @bcon24 @lauraneedstochill @tssf-imagines @bbyaemond @polkadotsocks1993 @yentroucnagol @arcielee @talesofoldandnew @namoreno @1800-fight-me

[goggles-mcgee]

Revolt Of The Akuma [Commission for @miner249er]

As the title says, this is a commission for @miner249er

Summary: There’s only so much a person can take and Marinette is almost certain she has reached that point. What with Lila and her seemingly never-ending lies, Adrien and his nonexistent spine, Chat and his stubbornness, Hawkmoth and his akumas, Paris and their expectations, it’s all too much. She’s going to snap sooner or later. At least she has Luka and Kagami on her side, right? Right?

[Contains: Class Salt, Adrien Agreste/Chat Noir Salt, Lila Rossi Salt, Angst, Misunderstandings, Slight Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng Salt, Slight Tikki Salt, Akumanette]

It was rare for her to be surrounded by quiet, even more so to need that blanket of security that quietness can give, and yet here she was. The pink of her room had never seemed more faded or dull even with the lights on. Realistically she knew it was not quiet, her home was never quiet, there was always the bustle of business from the bakery downstairs, the sound of traffic outside, usually the sound of music coming from her phone or computer, and as always the chatter from her Kwami. Though Tikki’s words at the moment sounded like they were being spoken from above water whereas Marinette was under said water, deep under. Her eyes glanced at the mess she had made around her, the pictures of past friends as she’s come to understand all too well these past couple of months, to the torn and destroyed gifts she had given them returned to her solely for the sake of making her heart wrench painfully beneath her skin, from there to the piles of used tissues thrown about during her silent cries, and finally to the thing that had hurt the most and had been sitting in her lap, limp, shredded, basically lifeless, her sketchbook. The sight caused Marinette’s heart to clench in pain once more and she could feel tears pool her eyes yet again, but she forced them to stay, she was tired of crying. 

Noise flooded back to her almost making her flinch. There was the soft ding of the bell from the bakery’s door downstairs signaling a customer’s arrival or departure, there were the car engines and the horns beeping, peoples soft voices floating in, and of course Tikki’s worried voice. Everything in her yearned for the quietness but she knew she had to deal with everything eventually and eventually meant now, so she didn’t worry her parents if they came to check on her at any point. If they even noticed her mood change from lunch, she thought bitterly and felt immediate guilt at the thought. 

“Marinette…”

“Tikki.”

“Were you listening to me?” Tikki asked, and even though she knew Tikki wasn’t saying it in an admonishing tone, the girl couldn’t help the tiny wince she gave in return as she finally stood up and picked up the tissue piles. Truthfully she hadn’t but she could guess what the kwami had been saying. It was the same thing every time something happened between her and her class. That, they would come around, they were just acting out of misplaced trust and love, they would realize their mistakes and come back to Marinette and everything would go back to normal, but she had to get a handle on her feelings in the meantime so she wouldn’t be akumatized. No that wasn’t right. So that Ladybug wouldn’t be akumatized, but how could she after the day she had?

Lila made good on her promise. Marinette didn’t have a friend left in her class, maybe not all of them thought her the awful bully that Lila painted her out to be, but they  didn’t stand up for her, they didn’t talk to her in or out of class, and they wouldn’t meet her eye when she desperately looked around for at least one supportive pair of eyes. It had never been this bad with Chloe. At least with Chloe she knew what she was getting into, she knew the brand of teasing and insults that Chloe Bourgeois used, and she knew that people were scared to stand up to her, but even then they would still flash each other a look of comfort, a look of strength. Those looks let all of them know they weren’t alone, that others saw them struggling, saw them hurting, and were offering comfort.  Things truly were simpler then. Lila was something more than Chloe, more than any other bully she had ever seen or encountered. She had a silver-tongue that just seemed to gain more power the more she used it. Her lies were outlandish at this point and yet, no one saw it, no one but Marinette and maybe others outside her class but she wasn’t. The awful truth of it all was that Marinette had no one.

Sure Adrien had said he would be there for her, but that had been the biggest lie Marinette had ever been told, even with Lila spouting nonsense like knowing Jagged Stone because she saved his ‘kitten.’ She was always prepared for Lila to lie, could count on it, and she had become accustomed to her friends falling for the lies, but she had thought she had at least one person by her side. That had quickly been disproven again and again, and it felt like parts of her heart chipped away every time it happened. Adrien, once considered the love of her life, did nothing to ease her aching heart. There were no comforting hugs or even a hand on her shoulder to let her know that she wasn’t alone in the class of sheep. There were no glances shared between the two to let her know that he was just as fed up with Lila’s lies as she. Most importantly, and the one that hurt the most, there were no texts or calls or even letters that offered her any amount of support. That’s not to say he never texted her, but when he did it was never about anything important, it was always mundane and dare she say superficial, and sometimes, sometimes he texted her about her situation but it was never anything helpful, if anything they made her feel worse. They were always about how she was “provoking” Lila and, “what happened to taking the high road Marinette?” At first they had made her cry, she wasn’t provoking Lila, Lila was provoking her, how had Adrien not seen that? Sadness grew into anger, blinding anger, anger that caused her to rip every poster down, change her computer background with such force she nearly broke the mouse, and gave away every planned gift for every occasion, and afterwards all she felt was numb. In the beginning the numbness scared her, but it grew on her like a second skin, it protected her sometimes so she welcomed it. 

“Marinette!” Again she was wrenched from her thoughts by the yell of her kwami’s voice. 

It took her a couple of seconds to focus, “Yes, Tikki?”

“I lost you again. Where were you?” Tikki asked softly as she flew closer to Marinette’s face. 

“Sorry. Nowhere,” Everywhere, ”just thinking.” An apology and a half answer, when was the last time she actually told someone how she was feeling without holding back? Too long, her mind supplied. 

“...About today?”

“In a way.”

“Oh Marinette, things will start to get better, don’t let today get to you.” Don’t let it get to Ladybug.

“I know Tikki.” Hollow words, but they were expected, she even threw in a small smile, it was the most she could manage. It was the response of habit she gave, even to her parents, though she had the feeling they wouldn’t notice even if she did show some of her real feelings, some of her hurt. They were just so busy with the bakery sometimes that Marinette couldn’t help but feel that their attention to her was more obligation than anything else, and wow, wasn’t that just the cherry on top of everything? They had even forgotten to ask how her day was today, and though she wasn’t going to tell them, it still would have brought her some comfort to know they cared or pretended to care. At this point she would take what she could get. Today had been another rough one, but it had started out like her new normal, she would go to school and be ignored by her classmates or get glares and sneers that she in turn would ignore. Then she would go to her locker and put the bare minimum of her belongings in, that she prayed would not be destroyed (“improved”) or stolen, she did her best to boobytrap anything of importance like she did her diary since having a lock on her locker was supposedly unheard of at this school. After that was class itself where she expected her seat to be sticky or wet with something but she took to bringing wet cloths and paper towels with her since this was so common. ‘Just harmless pranks.’ Mme Bustier claimed when she first went to talk with her about the behavior. Honestly she didn’t know what she had been expecting when she went to her teacher for help, but she was not going to make that useless of a mistake again. What followed though was weird, she still found rude little notes but none of her classmates went out of their way to glare at her, or make snide comments about her, she wasn’t even tripped if they walked too close to her. To some people it would mean a break, but it only put her more on edge, like something bigger was coming, because Lila was acting strange. 

She hadn’t spouted one lie about Marinette, she still lied, just nothing about Marinette, which was odd. Though Marinette pushed it from her mind in order to get some help from Mme Mendeleiev for her homework packet that was due tomorrow. Some problems were proving difficult and she knew the teacher was more than willing to help students out if they went to her, so that’s exactly what Marinette did for lunch time. She even brought a packed lunch so she could eat and work with the teacher so they had more time, it was actually rather nice. Mme Mendeleiev, though stern and strict, was a real teacher. She wanted her students to learn and Marinette yearned for that, she yearned to be one of her pupils. There was a part of her that thought that maybe the teacher wanted that as well. It was an impossible thought, she tried to transfer once, it hadn’t ended well for her. Lila spun it around when she had heard, claimed Marinette was doing it to abandon them and leave them without a class president. Oh how she spun her web of deceit and claimed Marinette was doing it for attention, to get back at the class for not believing her ‘lies.’ Of course the class and Mme Bustier believed her, because why wouldn’t they? Then Mme Bustier went behind her back and spoke to Principal Damocles and whatever they spoke about resulted in her staying in the class no matter what she tried or whatever papers she managed to get her parents to sign that would allow her a class transfer. She was stuck in the class. In her prison.

After lunch is when everything had blown up, and some twisted part of Marinette was thankful it happened sooner rather than later. Lila had made a show of holding something, some papers that looked destroyed, to her chest and “crying.” If you could call over the top whimpering crying. Marinette didn’t have to prepare herself since she had been prepared all day for something to happen when Lila and her herd of sheep came to her and yelled at her for ruining Lila’s homework and something about writing something on her locker too? She just didn’t care anymore, she still claimed her innocence and that there was no way she could have done it, but no one was listening and Adrien was just standing there frowning at her in disappointment and all she could think was, right back at you boy. Mme Bustier joined in and Marinette just stood there as the teacher of course fell for whatever scheme Lila cooked up and then held back a sigh when said teacher started to lecture her there in the hallway for everyone to see. Of course they had to make a spectacle of it, of course they did. Damocles decided to join in and Marinette thought it was for sure going to be another expulsion, some part of her hoped for it. She knew that was bad but she was just so freaking tired of dealing with it all, but to her surprise Mme Mendeleiev was her knight in shining lab coat so to say.

“Marinette didn’t do it. She was with me the entire lunch period so unless she managed to defy all laws of physics and was in two or three places at once I would say she’s being framed.” Mme Mendeleiev’s voice had commanded attention and even Lila couldn’t spin it around to keep Marinette in trouble. Even her classmates had stopped their incessant murmuring. 

“But Lila said she saw her running away from her locker!” Kim had yelled in return. It spoke of Mme Bustier’s character and control of her class that she hadn’t even attempted to reprimand Kim for raising his voice to another teacher. 

Marinette saw Mme Mendeleiev give Mme Bustier a look that had the younger teacher trying to reign in her rowdy class after they had all been yelling their own affirmations that yes, that was what Lila had said. “Then either Mlle Rossi needs to get her eyes checked or she saw someone else, or she’s lying.”

“Demeter! I’m sure Lila didn’t mean for this...little misunderstanding to happen. I'm sure she saw someone who looked like Marinette.” Mme Bustier had tried to reason. 

“If I’m not mistaken Caline, this is not the first time this has happened to Marinette. Her being accused of something in this school and getting punished unjustly with no proof. Forgive me, or not, but I’m not going to overlook this like you. Those are serious accusations to throw at someone. It would be wrong not to investigate. Right, Damocles?” No one spoke throughout Mme Medeleiev’s little speech but Marinette saw the glare Lila was giving the teacher and Marinette was tempted to tell Mendeleiev to just drop it.

“Er, yes, of course.” Principal Damocles had stuttered out. How he had managed to be a principal Marinette would never know. Once upon a time she had thought him an awkward but good guy all around, but that was not the case anymore.

“I suspect we call Mlle Rossi’s mother to speak about this. I’m sure she would love to know that her daughter is being...if not bullied then the start of being bullied. Then we will gather students who match Marinette’s description. It’s not much but it’s the best we got. I’ll go take pictures of the locker in question.”

“Oh-Oh we really don’t have to do that. I’m sure it really is all a misunderstanding! I wouldn’t want to bother my mother!” Lila had desperately claimed. 

“How is this a misunderstanding Mlle Rossi? Please explain. Because from where we teachers stand this is clearly bullying and we will not tolerate that at this school.” Mme Mendeleiev said with such authority, one would think she was the principal. 

Somehow, Marinette didn’t know how, but Lila had talked her way out of having to have her mother called to the school even though Mme Mendeleiev had strongly insisted to Principal Damocles that they call her and have a sit down with her over her daughter’s wellbeing and school life. Though she honestly shouldn’t have been surprised that nothing had been done. It was Damocles after all. Lila probably said it would be best not to disturb her very busy, very important, diplomat mother and Damocles with his nonexistent spine folded. Though with all the wrong type of attention the incident had brought for the lying vixen Marinette had a relatively “relaxed” rest of her day. No one outright apologized for just blaming her for destroying another person’s work and defacing public property with no proof but at least they didn’t glare at her or make snide remarks for the rest of the day. Adrien even managed not to give her one of his lectures at the end of the day which was a big welcome on Marinette’s end. She could only deal with him being on his high-horse and looking down on her for so long and more often than not she wouldn’t even argue back she would just end the conversation with,*“Il n’y a pas plus sourd que celui qui ne veut pas entendre.” 

The day had started to look up for her and she was going to strike the iron while it was hot so to say. Her steps felt lighter. It’s like Mme Mendeleiv’s belief in her gave her invincibility for the day and she found herself actually looking forward to seeing Luka and Kagami at the end of the school day since she would finally have something good to share rather than her usual bouquet of gloom. The sun seemed brighter when she remembered that fencing practice was cancelled that day due to M D’Argencourt having some appointment to go to and a substitute couldn’t be found so the fencing club students had the day off. Marinette had excitedly texted Kagami that they should meet up after school and hang out earlier than the trio had planned since the girl had more free time. Kagami had agreed but said she would meet Marinette at her house as she had some things to take care of there at the school that she wanted to finish up before they met up. Of course Marinette had agreed without question, Kagami liked things to be in order before she had her free time and Marinette understood that. Now, Marinette didn’t remember what she had forgotten, but she knew she had forgotten something in her locker and had rushed from her home to grab it, not wanting her luck to run out for the day. She didn’t know why but since she was back at the school she felt the need to go talk with Mme Medeleiev and thank her once more for what she had done that day for Marinette. Whether the teacher knew it or not, she had given Marinette some hope back.

So she was going to do just that when she had heard familiar voices. Luka and Kagami? Kagami she could understand but why had Luka been there? He was supposed to meet them at Marinette’s house so she was immensely confused to hear his soft voice echo the halls. Her curiosity had gotten the best of her then and she had followed its call. She had not expected to find the scene she had stumbled upon, and the way her heart lurched with such pain. You would think I’d be used to it by now. Her eyes watered as she watched Kagami and Luka, her closest and only friends sitting with Lila and looking at her with such concern and half hugging her to give her comfort. She couldn’t hear what was being said but she would wager it was about her, she saw the disapproving frowns both Luka and Kagami gave in response to whatever Lila had said and all Marinette could think was, I’ve lost them too. She took them from me too. Before she knew it she had ran back home, to her room and had, well, she wasn’t too sure to be completely honest. It all went by in a blur, but she did remember texting Kagami and Luka and saying she wasn’t feeling well and maybe they could hang out together tomorrow, despite knowing Luka would have band practice and Kagami would have fencing practice. Then threw her phone onto her chaise and looked at her pictures of her friends she still had on her walls, she thought of the gifts she had given and all she had felt was this white hot rage and sadness that consumed her. 

She heard, more than felt the ripping and smashing of the things that reminded her of a past she could never get back. Marinette was done listening to Tikki in that moment, and she was done believing she had anyone on her side like she thought she did. Kagami and Luka, they both held little pieces of what was left of her heart and she could feel those pieces breaking with every thing she destroyed. Now here she sat in the aftermath of her destruction and she didn’t even feel satisfied. A small part of her still felt hurt, she was sure she had to have made noise, quite a bit of it, and yet neither of her parents had checked on her. It was just another drop added to her already too-full cup. 

“I’m sure it wasn’t what it looked like, Marinette.” Tikki chirped as she flew to Marinette’s sink and back with a wet cloth in her hand to help Marinette clean her face.

“What?”

“Luka and Kagami.” Tikki said their names so simply, “I’m sure it wasn’t what you’re thinking. You’ll see! We have to see them for patrol tonight. I’m sure you can ask them subtly about it as a concerned hero of Paris.”

The only concerned hero. Her mind bitterly spat out without warning. The thought almost made her wince in shock at the venom that came from it. Though she found herself not apologetic in the least, Chat had been proving himself to be unreliable. At first she had brushed off his behavior as his usual antics and she had been beating herself over the head about it everyday it seemed like. He became more aggressive in his flirting and really that’s what it was, it wasn’t passionate, it wasn’t some misguided persistence, it wasn’t just him being a “boy”, he became aggressive in his affection for her. He started asking her on more and more dates, bringing her more and more gifts and each time she rejected him, reminding him they had work to do, or she had plans, or that his timing was not the best, or of course that she had feelings for someone else, he started “punishing” her and Paris as a result. He would refuse to help, sometimes he wouldn’t show up to a battle at all, he would only call to ask her if she had come to her senses and realized she loved him and when she wouldn’t give him the answer he wanted he would hang up and the battle would be a lonely one. She had tried to get Master Fu to do something about it but he had brushed it off much like she had in the beginning. Seemed like he still had faith in the cat, Marinette wished she could say the same but it would be a lie, besides she had kind of announced she no longer trusted Chat to help her since she gave Luka and Kagami their individual Miraculous back but to permanently use to help her defend the city. So instead of Ladybug and Chat Noir defending Paris, it was Ladybug, Viperion and Ryuuko. 

“I think I want to go out a little early Tikki. Maybe the fresh air and time out will do me some good.” Marinette said with forced cheer as she stood and stretched her arms high above her head. 

“I think that’s a good idea Marinette!” Tikki chirped as she zipped through the air to hover at Marinette’s shoulder and she couldn’t help but chuckle. With a quick saying of the magic words and one transformation later, Marinette was out slinging from rooftop to rooftop. There was no destination in mind just yet, she just wanted to simply be for a while. Everything finally felt okay and she was ready to actually head to the top of the Eiffel Tower to wait for Luka and Kagami as their hero forms so they could start actual patrol when she heard their voices. It sounded like they were trying to keep quiet about something. She didn’t want to pry but it was late and if they were out this late as their civilian selves she had a duty to them to make sure they were okay. With a quick swing she was at the Château Edmond de Rothschild where the voices seemed to come from, it was supposed to be not accessible to the public, so why were they there? 

A quick peek was all it took to understand why and Marinette had to stop herself from making any noise, whether it be a sob or a scream or a gasp. She couldn’t risk it if what she was seeing was real, but there it was right in front of her. Luka and Kagami were sitting in their hero forms holding a charm of some kind between them and they both had the sickening violet glow of Hawkmoth around their eyes. They didn’t seem angry or sad, or even like they were being akumatized so she wasn’t really sure what was going on but she was going to put an end to it. Now.

“Yes Hawkmoth. Ladybug trusts us completely, we are doing our part.” Kagami said.

“But...Chat Noir has yet to show up. That has helped us get closer to Ladybug yes, but it means we don’t know where the Black Cat Miraculous is for you.” Luka had added on and it was another stab to Marinette’s heart. They, her most trusted allies, her friends, her maybe something more’s, were working with...oh god she was going to be sick. She had to get out of there. She didn’t know how long she had swung but at some point she hadn’t been thinking about where her yoyo should attach itself and she fell down into a garden. No, she couldn’t identify the garden because she couldn’t see past the tears. Marinette didn’t know how long she laid there crying but she quickly took off her earrings and just as soon as she did Tikki zipped out.

“Marinette…”

“You said things would get better Tikki. How? How is this supposed to get better? Luka and Kagami...they are...they’re working for HIM!” She screamed and she didn’t care who heard, she was tired of suffering in silence. 

“I’m sure it wasn't-”

“What? What, it looked like?....I’m done. I’m done sacrificing everything for this city. Sacrificing my feelings. I need to feel Tikki!” Without waiting for a response, Marinette threw the earrings and ran further into the park. She sobbed as loud and she had wanted to, needed to, and she couldn’t stop. She collapsed yet again, this time in a patch of butterfly bushes, though she hadn’t noticed. It wasn’t the only thing she hadn’t noticed, there was an akuma flying her way, but by the time she heard the tell-tale sign of the flap of its wings it was too late. The thing had already morphed with something on her person and all she could do was gasp.

______________________________________________________

Gabriel Agreste couldn’t help the tiny shout of joy he let out because finally, finally he had managed to snag his masterpiece. She had evaded him for so long, her will over her emotions had always seemed so iron strong but finally, Marinette Dupain Cheng was akumatized, and she was going to be the one to get him the Miraculi he craved. He could feel it. He turned to brag to his swarm of butterflies seeing how Nathalie wasn’t in the lair but when he did so he paused. All his butterflies were gone. Honestly he had to just stand and stare because where could they have gone? And why hadn’t he noticed or heard them leave? 

No matter. The important thing was that he had Marinette Dupain Cheng under his control and it was going to be glorious. She would make quite the spectacle for Ladybug and, well, the heroes and Chat Noir when she appeared tomorrow. Victory was close, he could practically taste it.

__________________________________________________________

Wang Fu had made many mistakes in his life and he regretted every single one, but this one, this one was causing him the most pain. Marinette, the girl he had chosen to be Paris’s pillar of hope, the girl he had seen as a granddaughter, the girl he had failed to protect when she needed him, was in danger. He had been sleeping when Tikki had come flying into his shop wailing about Marinette. At first he and Wayzz couldn’t understand her, when she managed to calm down some she gave him some of the most devastating news he had ever received. Marinette Dupain Cheng had given up the mantle of Ladybug and had been akumatized. He had been desperate to know why and know why Tikki looked so guilty because surely it could not be her fault. Then the kwami had spilled everything, she told of the situation at school, the situation with Chat Noir, with Adrien that he himself had thought was nothing more than him being a stubborn boy, and she had told him how even she believed her user was somehow something more than human and would be able to handle it all. She had been angry at Marinette for throwing her away but had realized that it wasn’t her fault and had tried to find the girl to talk to her but by the time she had found her...it had been too late. So here he sat after calling Chat Noir to his shop and hoping the young hero...no, the young boy, would show.

“Master Fu?” Adrien asked softly as he entered the shop, it was almost easy to believe that the young boy wasn’t wayward and that Fu hadn’t made yet another mistake.

“In here Adrien.”

“Uh, what’s the matter Master Fu? You never call me Adrien. You said this was about Ladybug. Did she...Did she say something to you?” Near the end it was easy to see now the hidden anger the boy held, why hadn’t he seen it?

“No. This is something...far worse I’m afraid. Ladybug has been…”

“Ladybug has been defeated.” Tikki finished for him. 

He watched as Adrien’s eyes widened and he gaped at Tikki, he looked as though he didn’t want to believe it. Fu wanted to yell at the boy. He had no right to stand there and act like he cared about Marinette. “That is not all. A young girl has been akumatized and I fear she may be the strongest akuma Hawkmoth has ever made.”

“What do you mean Ladybug has been defeated!? Defeated by who!?” 

“By the akuma,” Fu lied, though was it really a lie?

“What akuma?”

“Not what. Who. The akuma is Marinette Dupain Cheng and from what Tikki and Ladybug have told me...Hawkmoth has been wanting to akumatize her for a long time. Whatever sent her to his side...I’ve met the girl. She is a kind soul and to know that he has her under his control...Adrien. You have to stop her. After that...after that is when you and I will sit down and have another talk, but in the meantime find Mlle Dupain Cheng and help her.” Fu pleaded, and he couldn’t help the tear that escaped. 

The emotion seemed to hit Adrien, though it didn’t seem to be the only thing. “Marinette is the akuma? How?”

“I think you know the answer to that Agreste.” Tikki answered with a glare from where she was being held by Plagg who honestly looked like he wanted to scratch his owner's eyes out.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“We don’t have time for this. Adrien, just please, go and find her. Help her.” Fu watched as Adrien had left, it was almost morning now and he had work to do as well. He had to retrieve the Snake and Dragon Miraculi before their current users handed them off to Hawkmoth, as he doubted they would help in the fight to save Marinette, and he didn’t trust them enough to let them try.

“We’ll get her back Tikki. We will.”

______________________________________________________________

Adrien was not having a good morning, he had spent the early hours of it searching for his friend and coming up empty, and the more he came out with nothing the easier it was to be frustrated. Though it seemed like frustration was something to be shared in the Agreste home since his father also seemed to be irritable that morning. More than that, he and Nathalie seemed off and they were the most put together people he knew. Them being off, threw him off, thankfully he was still at school on time, which is too say he wasn’t his usual early self, but he was there a couple minutes before the bell would ring which gave him a very small window of time to search for Marinette before class began. Though he’s not entirely sure she would even show up at school if she was an akuma but where else would she go? She had a problem with Lila and Lila was at school so the answer had to be there right? God he hoped so.

The bell was about to ring though so he ran back to class after searching the locker rooms and barely made it to his seat when the bell did ring. Marinette wasn’t there. But she was going to show up, he just knew it. She had to. Lila was the source of her anger probably, even if it was childish, she would come to settle the score and that’s when he would swoop in and save the day. Then maybe just maybe, Ladybug would finally see that they were meant to be and realize how amazing he was. The thought had made him smile, almost losing himself in the daydream, that is until he saw a familiar pair of pink pants enter the room. He was at immediate attention and was alert because Marinette...didn’t look like an akuma. She looked like normal herself, but she was an akuma right? So why didn’t she look like one?

“Marinette. Late again?” Mme Bustier asked even though it was obvious.

“I won’t be long Caline.” Marinette replied and her voice...it was just off. Yes it was Marinette but at the same time it wasn’t.

“Marinette! You will speak to me respectfully or I will have no choice but to-”

“To what? Tell me to be a better example? I’m tired Caline, I’m tired of being your doll that you dress up and play pretend with. I’m not a doll, and I’m not a teacher’s assistant, though it seems like that’s what you believe me to be seeing as you push me to do your job. Constantly, so don’t even try to deny it. It’s the teacher’s job to placate their students and make sure that their classroom environment is a healthy one. You allow bullies to reign free from punishment and in turn punish the victims. Do you ever get tired of being the indirect cause of akumas? Because really how many of your students have been akumatized and you have the gall to say you’re a great teacher, everyone’s favorite teacher no less.” Everyone in the room was dead silent. This wasn’t Marinette at all, but before anyone could say anything the akuma continued, though they didn’t know she was an akuma and Adrien so badly wanted to shout it out to warn everybody.

“Then there is all of you sheep. I had the absolute displeasure of once being your friend, but I realized you were never my friends to begin with. If you were you wouldn’t have believed lies over me.”

“Is this really what this is about Girl?” Alya shouted.

“Alya, it seems like you want me to start with you. You claim to be a journalist, a seeker of the truth, but that is the biggest lie you have ever sold yourself beside Ladybug’s best friend over there. You are a hypocrite. You say you are a defender against bullies and villains. Well you Alya Cesaire are one of the biggest bullies by association I know. You turned your back on me. On the truth. You refused to open your eyes and see what was truly there. You became a bully and enjoyed it. You took pleasure in everything you did to make me miserable alongside Lila. Well congratulations Rena Rouge you have been outfoxed and it isn’t because of some sapotis or illusions. I was wrong to ever trust you.”

Everyone watched as Alya grew pale and just sat there with her mouth agape. “Nino, Kim, Alix, Ivan. You became destroyers rather than the protectors of the weak you boasted about to make yourselves feel better. Well guess what Nino? There’s no shell to protect you from the truth! You are a bully, bigger than Chloe! Because instead of not doing anything like you had last time I was bullied for years on end, this time you partook in the “merriment.” Kim. How I ever trusted you with anything is beyond me. You know in China to call a child a monkey is a great compliment, to call you anything similar would be a great disrespect. How you held the title of the monkey king...I’ll never understand it. Alix, you always liked to believe you were as fast as a rabbit both in mind and body, well the rabbit is dead. Your time will never come again I’ll see to it. Your most prized possession, your watch, I helped you restore it after it had been broken and I even gave it back to you but that was a mistake on my part as you never deserved it in the first place. Ivan, who helped you during Stoneheart? Who? Oh that’s right it was me? I helped you see you weren’t that monster but I was wrong. I was very wrong.” The words were cruel and Adrien didn’t know where all this anger was coming from. Lila was the target right? Shouldn’t she only be going after her, not their friends? He had to sneak out and transform, he didn’t know where her item was but he would find it and put an end to all this unnecessary hurt.

“Oh Adrien, where do you think you’re going? You’re at the top of my list.”

“Your list?” He asked as though he hadn’t been caught trying to get out of his seat.

“Yes. The list of people who have wronged me. The list of people who have turned me into the current me. The list of people I hate. Sorry, but not sorry If you can’t handle hearing how imperfect you are but you will listen to what I have to say.”

Adrien didn’t understand why everyone gasped but he was hurt to hear that Marinette hated him. No it had to be the akuma’s influence, it just had to be. “I’m sorry you feel that way Marinette.”

Marinette walked up to him and took both his hands in hers, it would have been a sweet gesture if it weren’t for the added pressure. “Save it. I don’t want your superficial pity. You Adrien Agreste are the biggest liar I know next to Lila. You knew she was lying. You knew she was lying from the start seeing how Ladybug told you herself that Lila and her were not friends. Oh yeah I know about that, in the park, or how about when Lila was akumatized to be the Chameleon, which by the way Lila very unoriginal and I’m fairly certain you were akumatized on purpose but hey what proof do I have right? And she pretended to be you because she didn’t like what you had to say about her lying. Yet you still didn’t tell your so called friends about her, because you don’t care about anyone but yourself! I learned that the hard way. I believed you when you said we were in this together and that if we both knew then that was enough and that we should take the moral highroad. What a joke! I am truly disgusted with myself for ever thinking I was in love with you.”

What!?

_____________________________________________________________

Luka couldn’t believe what he was hearing, he and Kagami had rushed to Marinette’s class after they had each gotten a call from her mother asking if either one of them had seen Marinette. Apparently they went up to her room and realized she was missing but thought maybe she had told them she was spending the night at Alya’s and they maybe just hadn’t heard but when they had called her and texted her with no response they had gotten worried. More so when she hadn’t shown up that morning. Luka had immediately felt his heart drop. Marinette was, well, she was his melody and to think that something could have happened to her, it made him get on his bike and search as many places as he could think of. It seemed like Kagami had the same idea because he ran into her and her car before they decided it would be better to search together. He felt awful about her cancelling their plans yesterday but figured she just genuinely wasn’t feeling well. Luka was beating himself over the head because obviously that wasn’t the case. 

Maybe if him and Kagami hadn’t been so focused on helping get evidence that Lila was a liar and who Hawkmoth could be they wouldn’t be in this mess, but they had done all that for Marinette. They had seen what Lila had done to her and Kagami had been the one to say she didn’t trust Lila and proposed they help Marinette expose her for the lying weasel she was. Luka had been all for it, even if they had to pretend to be nice. When they found out that Lila actually didn’t like Ladybug well, that had been a shock but they had played into it. Both he and Kagami had acted like they too despised the superheroine and finally they saw Lila, the real Lila, or at least a small glimpse of her. She believed they really didn’t like Marinette and Ladybug, she believed they were her spies on Marinette, and then she admitted something that genuinely made Luka sick to his stomach.

Lila was working with Hawkmoth. And she wanted them to help them and join their “team.”

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. It was more evidence against Lila Ross and it was a way to help Ladybug who had seemed like she was being spread thin thanks to that no good Chat. So him and Kagami agreed to help. Then Ladybug asked them to be permanent heroes. They told Hawkmoth in order to gain trust from him and he had seemed pleased. Fake working with him was disgusting but him and Kagami felt like they were getting close to figuring out who he could be or what his ultimate goal was, but one thing was for certain and that was, for some odd unexplainable reason, Hawkmoth wanted to akumatize Marinette. He wanted Luka and Kagami to help, they had been hoping to unmask him before it came to that, but hearing Marinette now and seeing her...that was not Marinette. Hawkmoth succeeded somehow. Because that in there was an akuma and it was breaking Luka’s heart, more so when he realized it had way more information about people and the Miraculi than anyone would other than Ladybug herself. 

“Luka...that’s.” Kagami had never sounded so lost.

“I know. Marinette was, is, Ladybug.”

“What do we do?”

“We save her. And...and we tell her the truth.”

They were ready, they were opening their mouths to say their separate transformation phrases when a window in the classroom broke. They turned to look inside to see if it was Marinette running out and finally showing an akuma form, but all they saw was a green blur and Marinette leisurely following after the blur out of the school to the park outside. Of course they followed, but when they went to transform they both realized, their respective Miraculous was gone. What did they do now?

_____________________________________________________

Fu had done it. He had retrieved the Dragon and Snake Miraculous, with help from Tikki as she took them from their holders as he caused a distraction as Jade Turtle. It was never easy to hold his transformation but he had done it for the short while he had to. That was one, kind of two, problems out of the way, now all he had to do was wait for Adrien to save Marinette. “He will do it”

“He will, Master.” Tikki muttered from his shoulder as Wayzz nodded his agreement from Fu’s other shoulder.

“I doubt it.” Fu nearly fell with how he stumbled back at what had landed in front of him. It was Marinette but also not. He didn’t want to call her an akuma because even that felt like a wrong description. She felt like something else entirely, looked it too. She wore some armor like that of a knight over what appeared to be a black body suit, but one made of light. Her freckles seemed more like stars and if he looked closer each star was unique, and almost seemed to resemble every past akuma

“Marinette...what...what are you?”

“A protector, the Protector.” Marinette answered as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

______________________________________________

As soon as Marinette felt the akuma merge with her, because truly it felt like it merged with her and not an object, she felt so much. She could feel the butterfly feel her pain, her anger, could feel it soak up her negativity. She in turn could feel its pain and anger, its sadness too. Her heart filled with so much empathy. Then it was like the voice of the butterfly doubled, then tripled, then there were too many voices to be heard but Marinette understood. She felt their pain because it was the same as hers. All of them had been used, all of them together had put their trust in people they shouldn’t have. Though she had no way to see it, Marinette just knew she was covered in butterflies because she refused to call them akumas, they were victims just as she was, just as Paris was too, to Hawkmoth.

They told her they wouldn’t let him harm her. That they would protect her. That was the moment that Marinette felt that she and them were one and she vowed to protect them just as they vowed to protect her. She accepted them, she let them and her truly become one, because at that moment they were her only friends, her only family, and she was going to protect them from their abuser. They sung her praises, they gave her strength, they whispered a name and place. Their former owner. She listened and she heard and Marinette followed where they led. The closer they got to the Agreste Mansion, the louder the cries of Nooroo she could hear, could feel. She vowed she would protect him as well. He was her family, her friend too, just like the butterflies. A part of her felt like she should have been surprised that Gabriel Agreste was Hawkmoth and that so, Nathaniel Sancoeur was most likely Mayura, but really she just felt anger. Gabriel and Nathalie were to face justice. Her justice.

They would pay for their crimes against Paris, and their abuse of the Miraculi, kwami, and butterflies. She was the Protector and nothing would stand in her way.

_________________________________________________

“I don’t wish to fight you, but I see you believe me to be an akuma. I’m not. I don’t expect you to believe me but it’s the truth. I am merely the Protector now. As a sign of good faith,” Marinette, or Protector held out a hand to Fu, one he was reluctant to reach out for. “Here.”

It seemed like she caught on to his hesitation because Marinette threw whatever had been in her hand to him. Tikki and Wayzz had quickly helped catch them and when he saw what Marinette had tossed him he felt faint. Whether it was from relief or fear he didn’t know. Marinette had given him the Peacock and Cat Miraculi. “And what of the Butterfly Miraculous?”

“I’m keeping it. You couldn't protect it, so I will in your place. Nooroo and I decided it is what is best.” At the mention of the kwami, said kwami fly out into the open to sit in Marinette’s open palm.

“Marinette I can’t let you do that.”

“We’re not asking permission.” Nooroo stated as he nuzzled Marinette’s thumb that was caressing his head. “Marinette and I have suffered at the hands of Paris long enough.”

“This was merely me wanting to say goodbye face to face. Don’t come looking for me Fu.” 

Fu could only watch at Marinette, Nooroo, and a swarm of white akumas jumped away from him and his kwami. He didn’t know what else he could do. He was too old to run after her, and he didn’t have anyone he could trust with a Miraculous with to send after her. So he just watched as Marinette continued to get smaller and smaller in his vision, until she was gone. Though she asked not to be looked for, he would do it, because Marinette deserved to be found and talked some sense into. When he found her, an apology didn’t feel good enough, but he would give her the biggest most heartfelt apology. She was a kind soul, and truly deserved none of this.

______________________________________________________

It was chaos. Tom and Sabine had closed the bakery but it was still filled with people, only it was Marinette’s class and Luka and Kagami. They didn’t dare call this class their daughter’s friends after they finally learned what had really been happening at the school. Luka and Kagami had told them everything and Sabine, Sabine sobbed and had called out for her baby girl till her voice was hoarse. What had they done to her baby girl? But they apologized to them, they said they were tricked. It felt more like they were trying to trick them, but nonetheless they needed help figuring out where Marinette could be and they were offering to help. Tom said it was out of guilt and had wanted to kick them out but Sabine convinced him it would be more manpower to help with the search. Truth was, they were just as guilty, they hadn’t realized something was wrong with their daughter until she was missing. 

Adrien had come in with his arm in a cast, when they asked what happened, the class claimed it was Marinette when she was an akuma. Adrien hadn’t denied it, in fact he looked angry, every time Marinette was mentioned he would frown, and Tom had been so so close to just tossing the boy out, but they heard the kids gossiping and saying that someone had broken into the Agreste Mansion and had beaten Gabriel and his assistant pretty badly. When asked about it Adrien would get really quiet but would confirm that his father and Nathalie were in the hospital due to injuries. He looked a mess.

Luka and Kagami though,...those two looked worse. They looked as though someone had ripped out their hearts. They were there physically, helping wherever they could and however they could, but one glance and you could tell they weren’t there in spirit. It was awful. Paris was celebrating the supposed defeat and disappearance of Hawkmoth and Mayura, but how could Tom and Sabine join in the merriment when they couldn’t share that joy with their pride and joy? The guilt of being so busy had never hit them so hard, but they vowed that once they found Marinette, they would do everything in their power to make it up to her.

____________________________________________________________

It was quiet, actually it was more like her ears were ringing so loud that it was impossible to hear anything. Her body collapsed from exhaustion, she couldn’t travel any further but she felt the distance. It felt safe. She felt safe and maybe that’s why her body just kind of shut itself down, maybe that’s why when the butterflies and Nooroo prodded at her mind if she was willing to give up the akuma and drop the transformation and which she did, that didn’t mean that Marinette wasn’t going to fight to stay conscious even if it was a losing battle. But she was so tired and she could feel Nooroo reassuring her that they were safe and that? That was enough for her. She quickly slipped into unconsciousness and for once didn’t fear the possibility of nightmares, because she knew when she woke up she wouldn’t be back in Paris anymore. Though with falling unconscious she did fail to introduce herself to those who found her, right away.

“I’m telling you guys I saw something wash up on the beach from my house!” A boy said as he and his friends made their way down the beach.

“Yeah? Last time you said that and dragged us here it was just a piece of driftwood.” Another boy piped in with a point of his finger.

“And you claimed it was a real mermaid this time.” His twin sister added.

“Guys be nice I’m sure it’s an actual real mermaid this time.” A girl laughed as she walked ahead to walk side by side with the first boy. 

“Actually there are many documents of mermaids you know.” The third boy of the group said matter-of-factly.

“Any of them driftwood mermaids?” the fourth boy of the group asked with a laugh.

“Ha ha ha, very funny. But I’m telling you I really saw...someone. Oh my gods.” The first boy had started before he actually did see the slumped form of Marinette just lying there. 

*Il n’y a pas plus sourd que celui qui ne veut pas entendre Translation: No one is as deaf as the one who does not want to listen.

[goldenraeofsun]

Good Ideas

1.5k of canon-divergence fluff, now on AO3!

Dean is almost finished with his standard gun cleaning (once a week whether they need it or not) when footsteps approach from outside his bedroom door. Heavier than Eileen but lighter than Sam - must be Cas. 

“What an awful day,” Cas sighs as he practically throws himself onto Dean’s prized memory foam mattress. He doesn’t even take his shoes off first, like an animal.

“Hello to you, babe,” Dean says, amused. He raises his head to fully look at Cas, now face planted into his pillow. Dean would like to say it’s unusual to see Cas this drained and frustrated after another shift at the Gas n Sip, but it’s become pretty much standard. And, because not-that-deep-down Dean’s a shitty person who lucked out and got a (fallen) angel to fall for him, he can’t entirely squash the pleased feeling in his gut that flares up every time Cas comes home to him, no matter the circumstances.

“Hello, Dean,” or that’s what Dean assumes Cas is saying, based on their past million and a half conversations over more than a decade.

Dean carefully sets down his colt and pads over to the bed. He takes a seat near Cas’s shins, the mattress slowly but surely dipping as it remembers Dean’s distinctive ass print. “What happened?”

“Humanity is stupid.”

Dean snorts. “Don’t have to tell me twice. What’d humanity do this time?”

Cas turns his head so he can glare balefully down at Dean with one brilliant blue eye. “Todd refilled the soda machine incorrectly. We had to reimburse ten customers who poured the wrong drinks despite the clear signs indicating the buttons were temporarily incorrect.”

“What a disaster,” Dean deadpans.

Cas groans a stream of indistinguishable words that might not even be English - knowing him, he’s probably insulting Todd’s mother ancient Aramaic or something - before he concludes, “It was a very uncomfortable situation. Todd is an imbecile.”

“Want me to kill him for you?” Dean asks casually.

Cas’s whole torso inflates with the depth of his sigh. “No,” he says, but the word is muffled and has zero conviction behind it.

“Come on,” Dean pokes Cas in the thigh. “You were the one who wanted this job in the first place. All the ‘human dignity’ you could choke down and all that crap.”

“I must’ve been mistaken.”

“Whatever you say, man,” Dean says, grinning as Cas rolls over so he’s lying normally on Dean’s bed. “Y’know, you could always do something else. Quit the Gas n Sip.”

“Like what?” Cas asks as he frowns up at the ceiling. “I don’t have much experience except in inventory management and customer service.”

“What about all your angel stuff?”

“I can hardly list ‘former Angel of the Lord’ on my resume,” Cas grumbles.

“You’ve got all those languages crammed in your brain, serious hand-to-hand skills - I could teach you all I know about cars, and you can add that.”

Cas gives a considering grunt.

“Look,” Dean says as he scoots further up the bed so he’s more aligned with Cas’s chest than his knees. “You were the one who was all gung-ho about getting a job to interact with normal people.”

“I needed a better baseline now I’m human because you and Sam are not ‘normal’ by any definition of the word,” Cas sniffs.

“Rude. Anyway, I told you to take things slow. So your first stab back at slumming it with regular folks isn’t going so great. Sometimes these things take a while to settle down,” Dean says, uncomfortably reminded of the time he had to comfort Sammy after three piano lessons didn’t turn him into the next Geoff Nicholls - or Elton John, as Dean had to amend after Sammy shot him a look of complete incomprehension.

“You don’t have to throw yourself into anything,” Dean adds gently to Cas. “We’ve got no big bad waiting out in the wings. It’s okay to take things one step at a time.”

“Because you provide such an excellent model of restraint and forethought,” Cas mutters.

Dean rolls his eyes. “Obviously. You don’t see me jumping back into Leave it to Beaver.”

“Because that’s not what you want,” Cas says, his eyes narrowing. “You said civilian life isn’t for you.”

Dean swallows. He pulls at a wrinkle in the sheets. “You so sure about that?”

Cas props himself up on his elbows, intrigued. “You’re truly considering retiring from hunting?”

Dean glances over at his guns, disassembled and gleaming on his desk. “I’ve been thinking about it. Sammy doesn’t go on many hunts anymore, says it’s more important to teach the next generation of fighters than handling everything by ourselves.”

“A wise thing to say, considering the limitations of the average human lifespan.”

“And you wonder why we never bring you to parties,” Dean says as Cas scowls in return, really only proving Dean’s point. “I’ve been looking into other stuff to do.”

“Like what?”

“Not sure,” he admits. “Sam’s got his Hunter Hogwarts thing going on - I could help Sam out, but the thought of reading and assignments makes me want to throw myself out a window.”

“You do like to be more hands-on,” Cas says diplomatically.

Dean sighs, wistful. “If the Roadhouse was still around, I would’ve kicked ass there. Talking with veterans in the business, passing along intel, throwing out the occasional brawler.”

Cas cocks his head. “Why don’t you rebuild one?”

“What?”

“Another Roadhouse,” Cas says like it’s obvious. “Those hunters Sam is teaching, they will need another meeting point once they’ve completed their training.”

Dean gapes at him, trying not to get his hopes up. He can picture it with alarming clarity, him behind the bar, Cas sitting off to the side, pouring over the books or a translation for one of Sam’s kids.

But this thing with Cas is so new - rescuing Cas from the Empty, telling him haltingly and not in so many words Cas could have what he wanted after all, doing their weird not-dating thing that works for them. Dean can’t be sure they’re on the same page about this.

Cas is technically human, but so many parts of him are still pretty out there in terms of fitting in with normal people stuff. Dean suggested they go on an honest to God date about two weeks after that went down - dinner at a fancy place in Salina. He even looked it up on Yelp. But, naturally, Cas had to ask ahead of time what usually happened on a date - a real date, Dean, because Metatron’s pop culture dump gave me many false impressions of what is normal or healthy for humans. 

When Dean embarrassingly couldn’t think of a single thing people did on dates except eat and have sex, Cas went to Sam because apparently there are zero boundaries when it comes to Team Free Will. And Sam, like a total Samantha, said most people talked about their feelings and life goals.

To which Cas turned back to Dean, said those big, I love you, words like they’re nothing and everything, and added his life goal was not dying before spending the rest of his human life with Dean.

The fucker even looked pleased Dean didn’t have to shell out the dough for a fancy steak.

“You have enough connections in the community to round up a decent clientele base,” Cas continues. “Not to mention your reputation, which would go a long way towards drawing hunters you personally haven’t met before.”

Dean clears his throat. “You really think I could do something like that?”

Cas narrows his eyes. “I think you could do anything you set your mind to,” he says with that patented-Cas sincerity that Dean would call bullshit with anyone else. Cas continues, “Twenty-seven percent of restaurants fail in their first year, but I have every confidence in you beating the odds.”

Dean snorts. Even Cas’s Beautiful Mind statistics aren’t enough to bring his mood down.

“And if you need help…” Cas drifts off sheepishly, “I do have requisite experience managing inventory. I cut down on unsellable food by fifteen percent two weeks ago.”

“You’re a goddamn genius,” Dean breathes as he bends over Cas.

Cas smiles up at him. “Would you want to?”

“Would I - ?” Dean breaks off incredulously to kiss him. “Of couse I fucking want to. But you really think it’s a good idea?”

Cas purses his lips. “It was my suggestion in the first place.”

“But maybe you were just spitballing,” Dean hedges. “So if you really think restarting the Roadhouse would be a bad idea, I can take it.”

Cas wraps a hand around the back of Dean’s neck, pulling him closer. “I don’t have bad ideas, Dean,” he murmurs.

That is so blatantly untrue, Dean almost bursts out laughing. But before he can make a sound, Cas’s other hand slides underneath his shirt, his fingers tapping lightly against the buckle of Dean’s belt. Dean raises his head to catch sight of Cas's face, and Cas’s eyes are dark with want.

Alright, so in times like these, Dean can admit Cas can have a good idea or two.

[blahkugo]

Biggest Fan

DABI x HAWKS x READER

Music! AU inspired by THIS photo set...or, the one in which Dabi, Hawks, & Endeavor are a famous rap group, and the reader gets VIP treatment. 

NSFW begins after the ~~~ for those of you who don’t care for plot! 

Warnings: 18+!, SMUT, cursing, threesome, rough sex (? not sure what your definitions of the word are but they do be slapping you around…), just pure filth basically 

You’ve been squealing into the phone for the past ten minutes. Honestly, you can’t believe the words coming from your best friend’s mouth, even after asking her to repeat them a fourth time. 

“Babe, even if you weren’t my agent, I would have found a way to get you in,” Rumi scoffs into the speaker, unphased by your relentless questioning. Though she’s always been a bit impatient when it comes to your antics, she knows how big of a deal this is to you. “How could I not? You talk my ear off about them.”

“I owe you for the next thirty years!” Your screech turns the heads of a few other customers, and you can feel the irritation radiating off the glare of one particularly peeved woman seated near you. But who cares? You’re too excited for a few middle-aged drags to dampen your mood. 

“Remember what you just said the next time I try to skip out on an interview,” her laugh echoes loudly; she must be at the studio.

“Yes! Whatever you want, Twinkle Toes. It’s yours!” She begins to grumble at the use of the old nickname,

“How many times have I told you not to-” You catch the scowling woman turning towards you.

“Got-to-go-text-me-the-details, love you!” The parting phrase comes out a hurried ramble. Unbothered as you are by a few stares, direct confrontation definitely isn’t worth the trouble. You’re out of the bistro and in your car before anyone can open their mouth. 

The cup of iced coffee you press to your flushed face does nothing to curb the elation threatening to bubble over from inside you. Rumi really has outdone herself this time. Being that she’s both a long-time best friend and client of yours, you know just how hard she’s been working to book a job of this caliber. Images of the two of you icing sore feet after hours of grueling practices spring to mind, making your bad ankle throb. If you could tell your younger selves who they are now— an internationally acclaimed dancer and a talent manager with a novel’s worth of influential clients— they wouldn’t believe it. And the work was paying off in more ways than one. Soon, Rumi will be making her music video debut...and you’ll actually be in the presence of your favorite artists, Suns of Icarus. 

The rap trio’s been all you can talk about forever. No, like really, forever. Even back at arts school, Rumi had to talk you out of choreographing dances to their music practically once a week. You can still hear her promising you that your 70 year-old ballet instructor did not, in fact, want to see you pirouette to a song that's chorus consists of Hawks saying the word “pussy” over and over again. Usually the memory would drown you in embarrassment (especially considering the story is Rumi’s favorite icebreaker), but now even that can’t hamper your mood. You sigh cheerily, pulling into your reserved parking space. Tomorrow, you’ll be surrounded by your idols.

-

“Are you sure I look okay?” You ask for the third time in an hour, tugging at the hem of your silk tank. Though you’re wearing your favorite suit, you can’t help but feel out of place in the large dressing trailer. After all, it’s  not every day that you accompany your clients on their gigs. Your job is getting them the gigs, and usually you prefer it that way.

“(Y/N), quit stressing! If you looked any hotter the guys would have a heart attack,” your best friend bellows loudly. “Doesn’t she look smokin’?” She questions the hairdresser who, apart from a nod and reassuring smile, you can’t quite understand over the sound of the blow dryer. “Who’s the bad bitch that got me this job in the first place? Oh right, that was you,” she pumps a manicured finger towards you to echo the claim, “so woman up!” 

She doesn’t put her finger down until she sees your face soften. It’s not like she’s wrong. “Professional smooth-talker” is basically your job description. In Hollywood people are afraid of you, the woman who can make or break a career. Who are you to let a couple of talents get you riled up? You allow your body to relax in your seat. Even if those talents are the group of boys that you’ve been crushing on since you were 16. Recalling that fact has you scrambling out of the trailer, face beet-red yet again.

“I’m going to grab something from the coffee cart. Be right back!” The door shuts behind you with a loud thud. Rumi should be spending this time going over the routine, not talking you down from the ledge you’re attempting to throw yourself off of over a few stupid guys. Besides, you’ll probably receive a polite greeting at best. The world’s favorite musicians have more important things to do than indulge your fantasies. 

Having iced coffee and a bagel in your hands is all you need to feel the tension in your shoulders dissipate and your smile return; truly a working woman’s comfort meal. The spring in your step is restored as you walk back to the trailer, too entranced by the savory goodness to properly hear the voice that hollers from your right. You do, however, hear the scolding that follows the catcall,

“How many times have I told you not to hit on people that work for us, birdbrain.” Your entire body swings towards the familiar nickname and a piece of bagel nearly falls from your mouth. Not even a few feet away, Dabi holds your favorite vocalist in a one-handed headlock, attempting to ruffle the blonde’s hair while keeping a cigarette balanced between his own fingertips. 

“Not the hair, man! The stylist’s already had to touch it up twice today!” Hawks’ shrieks are muffled beneath the bicep of his counterpart. 

“Go apologize,” The lanky man shoves Hawks towards the spot your feet are now cemented to. Though he’s reprimanding him, you swear you detect a hint of amusement in his tattooed face. “I’m sorry about him, sweetheart,” he calls, lips contorting into a smirk that should be illegal. You feel your thighs press together on their own; the situation isn’t made any better by the pretty boy walking towards you, hands threading through his golden locks in an effort to fix the havoc Dabi wrought. 

“My bad,” he flashes you an award-winning set of teeth you’ve previously only had the pleasure of viewing through your laptop screen; somehow they’re even pearlier in person. The glimmer of a tiny gem catches your eye and you notice one is sealed to his canine, only dazzling you further. “I meant what I said though, you’re gorgeous,” his hand moves from his own hair to twist a piece of yours between his fingertips. The lack of boundaries leaves you feeling stupefied, but he doesn’t let up, going as far as wrapping the lock around his polished index finger. God, even his hands are pretty...What if they were trailing the inside of your thigh and—  Your mind shouts at you to behave, a fruitless undertaking when the object of your adolescent desires is touching you ever-so softly. 

“Um- I- Thank you?” The stuttered phrase comes out confused. Where the hell is the professional smooth-talker side of you when you need her? “I’m Rumi’s agent and uh- I-I’m a big fan!” Heat blazes through your face and chest; you’d slap yourself for the outburst if they weren’t here. 

“Oh, really? She told us all about you!” He waves a hand towards Dabi. “Oi! Matches! She’s not an assistant, she’s Rumi’s manager!” The gloomier man extinguishes his cigarette before making his way towards the two of you, smug expression wavering only when he glances at Hawks. A short wheeze leaves the blonde when his chest is smacked lightly by his partner. 

“I told you not to call me that.” Dabi turns his attention towards you. “(Y/N), right?” He sticks a hand out to shake and you quite literally drop the remains of the bagel to reciprocate the motion, a move that makes you redden and him snicker. “Rumi told us you’re our biggest fan,” his sly grin tells you your loud-mouthed best friend had probably spilled too much information their way. Oh, she’s definitely going to get an earful later. 

He doesn’t drop eye contact the entire time he’s speaking to you, and you find yourself enchanted by the deep sea-blue of his irises. You would literally swim in those pools if given the chance. Only when Hawks clears his throat do you realize you’re still shaking his friend’s inked hand. After dropping it rapidly, you urge yourself into composure out of pure distress. 

“Sorry, I’m honestly a bit starstruck. I’m sure Rumi told you how much I love your music,” you finally sound a bit like your usual self. 

“She didn’t really mention our music, did she Matches?” Hawks chirps, dodging Dabi’s fist this time.

“No, I don’t think she did, dipshit,” he spits the insult through gritted teeth as a final warning. “But I do remember her telling us something about being your first two crushes...or was it your ‘sexual awakening’? I can’t really remember the term she used…” Your knees almost buckle at the obvious teasing, and you silently swear to murder Rumi when she’s done shooting this video. It’s evident that the mockery is highly amusing to them— the glints in their eyes border on ravenous. 

Because you’re not typically someone whose presence is taken lightly, the thought of being toyed with by a few arrogant men has your blood boiling. You’ve already dealt with too many pretentious assholes who don’t believe women, especially younger ones, belong in management; you didn’t claw your way to the top of the industry for all of that hardship to go to waste. Ever the more perceptive of the duo, Dabi seems to realize the shift in your mood. 

“Relax,” he reaches a hand towards you before thinking better of it, choosing instead to tug at the thin, silver piercing adorning his bottom lip. “We’re only teasing. She didn’t say anything like that, obviously.” You stare at him incredulously, arms crossing your chest. “Why don’t we give you a tour?” Though he’s the one who makes the offer, it sounds as though he’d rather be doing anything else. 

“We’re not really assholes, promise,” Hawks jumps in, crossing his fingers over his heart in a show of good faith. “This one just gets too big headed around beautiful women,” he points at the heavily-inked man, who simply rolls his eyes at the accusation. You’d thought the blonde was…well, nothing more than the stereotype his hair color implied, but he’s sharper than he seems. It appears that unlike Dabi, who comes off curt and ungenuine, Hawks’ wit stems from his charm. 

You can’t help but think of how the two of them compliment each other beautifully. That’s probably why their entire fanbase thinks they should be dating. With that ludicrous thought, your exuberance returns. After Hawks assures you they don’t have to be on set any time soon, you find yourself taking them up on their offer. They seem to be a handful, sure, but how long have you dreamt of spending uninterrupted time with your favorite members of the group? Besides, it’s only a tour. What could go wrong?

-

It’s apparent only five minutes into your time together that Hawks (despite his insistence you call him Kiego, it’s difficult after years of referring to him by the stage name) does not know the meaning of personal space. He spends the better part of the tour hooking an arm through yours, touching your hair, or pestering Dabi. While some may take this over-familiarity as a sign of disrespect, it feels more to you as though he’s simply comfortable in his skin. 

Rude or not, his bold actions do nothing but spur your heart to beat out of your chest. Every time he guides you towards an attraction with a cheerful comment, you swear his fingers purposefully dash under your layers of clothing, brushing faintly at the skin of your waist in a way that makes your heart (among other parts) flutter.  

“And as I’m sure you know, we’re filming this music video mid-tour,” his hand flits away as swiftly as it skimmed you, prolonging the torture of wondering whether his movements are purposeful or a figment of your twisted imagination. After showing you most of the fabricated scenery— and even the gorgeous, cherry-red convertible that was rented— for the video, you’ve arrived at the group’s infamous tour bus. You once read that most of their concerts end with the vehicle being mobbed by ruthless fans, one of the sole reasons you’ve never attended a show. Someone as busy as you doesn’t have time for all the horrid traffic the mobs cause. “Wanna see inside? It’s actually pretty roomy.” 

You nod, eyes trailing towards Dabi, who’s busy stomping out the most recent cig he’d been puffing on. Aside from the occasional chuckle at your flustered blunders or annoyed curse thrown towards Hawks, the taller man had kept mostly to himself. His indifference confuses you, makes you wish you hadn’t reacted so bitterly to the loose smile and banter he offered you upon first meeting. At the same time, part of you is irritated by his standoffish personality. From what you’ve seen so far, his remarks serve the single purpose of humiliating others for his own amusement— a stark contrast to the misjudged softy he’s portrayed as on camera. 

You’re guided onto the bus and Dabi follows, cursing under his breath at something or other. Sociable as he is, Hawks begins to chatter again, seeing no issue in being the center of your attention. You realize the space is much roomier than it seems. State of the art technology allows the bunk beds to fold back with a press of the button, leaving room for a decently sized couch. It’s also much cleaner than you would expect three young men living on the road to allow. 

“And the lowest one was my bunk, just in case you’d like to see it again later,” he whispers the sentence as though it’s his best kept secret, wagging his thick brows exaggeratedly to key you in on his joke. “Hey, why are you laughing? I’m totally seriou–” The doors swivel open and your giggles are cut off by heavy footsteps and a booming voice,

“Oi! Keigo! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You have to crane your neck to see the pillar of a man’s scrunched, stoic face. Endeavor, the pyrotechnic-obsessed “hype man” and third part of Suns of Icarus’s trio, stands a few feet from you, clearly exasperated by something his bandmate has done. Hawks must know precisely the reason for the bottle-redhead���s tone, because his face pales. 

“Enji, we made a new friend!” He pulls you into his chest in an obvious attempt to shield himself from the giant, but your face heats at the close contact regardless. 

“You were supposed to be on set for your solo scenes ten minutes ago,” he crosses his sculpted arms, “so let’s go.” The lively man is being whisked away by the larger one before he can utter a word of rebuttal. “Nice to meet you,” he calls casually to you over his shoulder. 

“Dabi, keep (Y/N) company! I’ll be back!” Hawks shrieks with a dramatic flare. The man was truly born to be an entertainer. 

An unbearable awkwardness envelops the two of you once you’re alone. Without his best friend around, Dabi drops any semblance of amiability, but it’s not as if he was trying very hard before. He plops down on the couch and pulls out his phone. You sit as far away from him as possible, but realize you don’t have your own device to keep you busy. After a few nervous minutes of twiddling your thumbs, you attempt to break the silence.

“So, Haw– Keigo and Endeavor use stage names, why don’t you?” You spout the first question that comes to mind, hoping it’ll spark an interesting conversation.

“Dabi is my stage name,” he answers curtly, without looking up from his cell. 

“Oh...but– even your bandmates call you by it?” 

“Yep. Don’t care for my real name,” his eye roll sends ice through your veins.

“Excuse me,” you snap, “have I done something to offend you?” The frustration in your tone wins you eye contact, at least. 

“Nope.”

“Unbelievable….I’m going to need your publicist’s information.” 

“Huh?”

“Well, anyone who can make you seem like the world’s most ‘misunderstood heartthrob’ on camera certainly deserves a pay raise, dontcha’ think?” His eyes drop to send a steely glare your way, but you’re too fed up to feel intimidated. You smirk at him, a single eyebrow raised in twisted satisfaction. There’s the bitchy self you know and love. 

“You don’t know the first fucking thing about me,” he sits up, “but I know everything I need to know about you.” 

“Oh? Enlighten me then, sir.” 

~~~

“You may think Keigo likes you, but he likes everyone. You’re, what, thinking you’re special because he’s throwing some attention your way?” Dabi inches closer. “Hoping he’ll get in your panties?” 

“It’s not like that at all–”

“Don’t lie. The idea of being with someone you’ve idolized for years is thrilling, isn’t it?” The heat that rises on your cheeks is enough to confirm his suspicions. “He doesn’t like to see people for who they really are, but I know your type...just another tramp that’ll use him and move onto the next,” his smug expression returns after that little rant. Paired with the tattoos covering most of his face, he appears every bit as wicked as the skeleton his ink emulates— devilish, even. 

“You’re wrong.” You can’t think of a proper argument when he’s so close to you, basically breathing down your neck. 

“Am I?” His hand trails up your clothed thigh, and an unwelcome shiver crawls up your spine. “So you’re going to stop me when I do this, right?” Then, he kisses you. 

It’s not at all soft, or compassionate, or anything resembling your naive teenage fantasies of the artist in the slightest. Rough, slender fingers wrap around your jaw and yank your lips to his. He doesn’t stop at a peck either, choosing instead to assail your mouth with all of his pent-up rage. The cool, hard metal of his lip ring strains against you, a pleasant contrast to the quick heat traveling the rest of your body. You want nothing more than to prove him wrong— to throw him off you, tell him to go straight to hell— but he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and- God, it just feels so good. Your mouth parts in a breathless moan and Dabi takes the reaction as an invitation to swipe his tongue against your teeth. With your bodies melding together violently, the make out feels simply a continuation of the intense argument you were having moments before. 

Pulling you between his lap, he shifts you so that your back is flush across his chest. Nimble fingers make quick work of your clothes. You just barely raise your hips so that he’s able to take your pants off with ease, but you’re sure he notices the eager movement. When you’re left in nothing but your panties, you feel the rumbling of his solid body behind you as he laughs, the sound bitter and pleased all at once.

“Oh you really are a whore,” he chides. “Who’d you wear these for, hm?” He runs his fingers across the band of your red lace thong. 

“Not you,” you bite back, feigning disinterest towards the dangerous position he has you in. The asshole’s not going to get to actually hear you admit defeat so easily. One of his hands kneads your chest and the other grabs your cheeks harshly, pushing them together so that you’re unable to speak.

“Not me? Take a good look at yourself, sweetheart.”  He lifts your head upwards and your breath hitches; the entire ceiling of the bus is covered in a dark, reflective surface. “Who has you naked in their lap right now?” he whispers onto your neck, licking a long stripe upwards until his teeth graze your ear. You watch fervently as he strokes his digits across one of your perked nipples, tweaking the bud roughly. “Who are you being such a slut for?” He’s aware he won’t get a response because his left hand still grips your face, demanding you watch his every move. 

Dabi then snakes his fingers down your midriff tortuously slowly, brushing lightly in a way he hasn’t touched you yet; as if the skin there is delicate, worthy of his valuable adoration. The ink traveling his arms makes him appear so ethereal, so sinister and compelling, that you can’t help but let out a muffled mewl. Once he reaches your panties, his fingers dart beneath the material and the tender moment is lost. An onslaught of pleasure wracks your body when he begins to draw quick circles on your clit. He lets go of your cheeks, now sore and reddened from both pressure and bliss. 

“I’m going to ask one more fucking time,” his fingers glide against your soaked slit, “who are you being such a dirty slut for?” You contemplate not giving him the answer he’s looking for, and part of you is sinfully curious about what may happen if you enrage him further; however, that idea is put to rest immediately when he snaps his head up to look at you through the mirror, blue eyes pooling with lust and a hint of something animalistic. That stare, paired with the relentless strokes across your clit, provokes your moaned answer,

“F-for you, Dabi.” He uses his free hand to insert two, thick digits inside you.

“Say it again.” 

“I’m- fuck– a s-slut for you,” you practically sob out. You press the back of your head into his shoulder harder, squeezing your eyes closed and biting your lip. 

“Not going to keep your eyes open? Fine.”  The fingers are removed from your clit and you’re about to let out an unsatisfied whine, only for him to grab the back of your head and mash your swollen lips to his once again. Then, after another brief caress of your abdomen, he’s back to touching your sensitive bud. All of your moans are silenced by his mouth, and you feel the vibrations of a low groan from his own throat when your ass grinds against his clothed member. When your stomach pulls taut you know you’re seconds away from feeling that all-encompassing pleasure, the tidings of an orgasm so close to washing over you. 

“Oi, Matches! You didn’t throw her out did you?” Hearing Hawks’ voice call out from the front of the bus has you reeling your lips away from Dabi, and though he slows his movements, he doesn’t remove his fingers from your core. Rather than push you away, he takes the other hand off your clit to hold you tightly against him. “(Y/N)? Dab–”

For a few seconds, the only sound you can hear is your own heart beating out of your chest. Takami takes in the scene in front of him— your bare body splayed across his best friend in the lewdest of positions. You know your face is blooming in embarrassment as you wait for a reaction, for his face to drop in disappointment, anger, anything. Instead, he smirks. 

“Starting without me? That’s no fair,” the golden-haired boy actually pouts, but there’s something deeper swimming in his eyes, something almost bloodthirsty. Though this is happening right in front of you, you can’t truly believe it. Dabi relieves the pressure of his arm from your chest.

“Look Kiego, the whore’s fucking drenched for us,” he lifts his fingers towards the beautiful man in front of you proudly, as if showing off a trophy or a new toy. Then he pops the damp fingers in his own mouth, humming at the taste of you. Hawks’ tongue dips out of his mouth, darting across his bottom lip. 

“I want a taste,” he leers at your bright panties, now soaked through. You think you must have died and gone to heaven, what with the two Adonises staring at you as if you’re their last meal. Hawks kneels at the foot of the couch, brings his face right up to your navel, and licks a long, cold swipe. His digits toy at your waist like they were earlier, except this time the movements are decisive and fierce. Just as he’s about to tug your panties down and place his mouth where you want it most, Dabi seizes his jaw and pulls his partner into a long, sloppy kiss. You let out a sigh at the view and— teases that they are— the sound doesn’t go unnoticed by either of them.

“Is watching us turning you on?” Dabi taunts cruelly. 

“Looks like she’s a bit of a pervert, hm?” Hawks retorts, sliding a finger across your clothed slit. The movement causes your entire body to quiver, your senses on high alert. Without another word, he leans down again, shifts your panties to the side, and takes your clit between his lips. The way he laps at you hungrily makes you believe your initial judgment of him was completely inaccurate, and when he inserts two lengthy digits inside you, the thought is confirmed. Hot, white pleasure consumes your body as your core clenches around his digits. He simply cocks an eyebrow at you and chuckles darkly, holding you tightly against him by your waist so that you’re unable to wriggle away. Gone is the lovable persona you were introduced to, replaced now by someone entirely foreign, deviously lewd. 

“Fuck, Hawks,” you whimper, greedy for more. 

“Thought I told you to call me Keigo,” he scolds beneath you, biting the inside of your thigh so that a sharp gasp leaves you. 

“I-I’m sorry, K-Kei–” You’re cut off mid-moan when Dabi kisses you, wrapping one slender hand around your throat and squeezing. His other one threads through your hair and tugs harshly. A painful hiss leaves you but the sound only makes him pull harder, smirking against your lips.

It’s as though they’re competing for your attention. If one of the men evokes a sob or whimper, the other attempts to outdo him— and they have no regard for your body, becoming instead the battleground for their lascivious rivalry. You lose yourself in the intense sensations, unaware of time or its passing, instead focusing solely on the coil tightening in your abdomen. Every gasp, every moan, only pushes them further, and soon your legs are shaking as you feel yourself nearing the delicious edge. 

Just as you’re about to let go, allow yourself the mind-numbing relief of an orgasm, Kiego withdraws his fingers. Rubbing your bruised thighs together is a desperate attempt at friction, but the momentum is completely lost. Your core clenches around nothing, and you cry out, hopelessly bitter at the emptiness between your legs. 

“Sorry, princess,” his hair is sticking up, golden locks tousled from the harsh grip of your fingers. And yet he still looks perfect. He wipes your juices off his chin with a thumb, “but that’s for starting without me.” Despite the apology, he sounds absolutely delighted at your loss. You whine again, hoping it’ll change his mind. “What do you think, Dabi? Should we let her cum?” 

Hearing his name, the tattooed man takes his attention away from your chest and the onslaught of purple marks his lips’ were just peppering on your throat. 

“I don’t think so,” he tweaks at one of your nipples, eliciting a soft groan from you. “I want the bitch begging for it.” Dabi pushes you away from him and stands to unbuckle his belt. “Besides, don’t think she’s done enough to earn it.” You should be outraged at the way they decide your fate as if you’re not even present, but in reality it only thrills you, your clit throbbing at the lack of control. 

“You’re right,” your idol sneers, canines bared and gleaming as he unzips his own pants, “and I wanna see those pretty lips wrapped around me.”

They switch places, shifting you so that your breasts are pinned against the couch between Kiego’s legs. Dabi grinds his hips against your clothed center, and you mewl at the long-awaited friction, hard member straining against his briefs. 

“Get to work, princess,” Kiego calls to you, boxers down to his knees. You can only balk at the sight in front of you. His cock is thick and long, essentially everything you could’ve ever hoped for, but that’s not it. 

Rather, it’s the shiny, silver ball pierced through the shaft and poking out from the top of his head that stops you dead in your tracks. He notices your eyes widen at it, but only snorts, wrapping your hair around his hand and yanking you roughly towards him. 

“Oh, that little thing?” Now he’s shoving you against his length, using your face as nothing more than a means for friction. “Just a drunken dare from Matches.” The nickname provokes the other man into leaving a stinging slap against your behind. And just like that, the angered man drives himself into your cunt. 

“I told you,” slap, “not to,” slap, “call me that.” With each thrust into you, Dabi releases an onslaught of pent-up anger onto your rear, the biting pain causing you to cry out around Kiego’s member. 

“Yeah sweetheart, just like that,” he leans his head back against the couch with a deep groan. “Such a pretty little whore, choking on my cock.” One of his free fingers shoots out to wipe at your tears, hand moving ever-so-lightly to cradle your jaw. The gesture might have been sweet if his other hand wasn’t forcing you down further to swallow him whole. 

“Mmmph–” you scrape carelessly at Kiego’s thighs in an attempt to secure yourself, moans coming out garbled with his cock down your throat. 

“Not done with you yet, slut” Dabi still pounds into you relentlessly. You’re overwhelmed with the feeling of being stuffed from both ends, knees on the verge of giving out until he fastens his hands around your thighs, pulling you into him with even harder plunges. “Fucking take it.” Something hard and cold grinds inside you, and you’re acutely aware of the ridged piercings now pressing against that perfect, spongy spot in your heat.

When he reaches an arm around to rub furiously at your clit, you’re sobbing. Kiego’s deep, golden eyes watching you, Dabi’s unrelenting fingers and thrusts, it’s all too much. 

And then you’re finally letting go. Legs shaking, mind wracked with white as you clench your eyes shut. Your mouth moves away from Kiego’s shaft, only concerned with riding out your high. The tattooed man behind you doesn’t stop his movements either, still pressed deep inside you until your tongue lolls out of your mouth and you’re tapping furiously at his waist. Kiego smiles, taking himself in his hand and slapping his cock against your cheek while he strokes himself. 

“That’s it, baby,” he smooths your hair back, grunting. “You look so pretty when you cum.” He pumps himself a few more times before he finishes, sticky liquid spurting across your lips and into your hair. You reach around to grab at Dabi’s waist again, willing him to stop. He removes himself from inside of you only to flip you around and your cunt clenches at the feeling of emptiness. 

Pulling you into a long, winded kiss, he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip to taste Kiego’s release. Then he’s pushing you to your knees once more, hands threading through your hair roughly.

“Suck,” he scowls down at you. Though you’re breathless, still reeling from your orgasm, the simple command spewed at you has your lips wrapped around him in a second.

He isn’t as girthy as Kiego, but just as long. A trail of piercings go down his length, and your tongue brushes against the cool metal while you wrap your fingers around the area you can’t reach. You stare up at him through thick lashes, piercing blue eyes ogling you as you take him further in. His hand is still perched on your head, but he makes no movement to push you down— instead, basking in your slow seduction. 

You’re sure you look a mess, dried mascara down your cheeks and still covered in Kiego’s cum, but Dabi only revels in the power he has over you, positively thrilled at the way you no longer fight for dominance. He breaks eye contact only when the blonder man tugs him into a kiss, deep and passionate, and the sight only urges you to swallow him deeper. 

“I like her with her mouth so full,” Kiego whispers against Dabi’s lips. 

“Just as long as the bitch isn’t speaking,” the other man groans, rutting into your mouth so that you know he’s close. 

Soon he’s pulling out of you to pump his shaft, your mouth wide open so that the head of his cock brushes against your tongue. Kiego reaches down to move Dabi’s hand, grabbing at his partner’s length so he can stroke it himself. It doesn’t take long after that for the brooding man to cum, head thrown back in a loud grunt while the tantalizing male next to him coaxes him through the orgasm. Kiego angles him so that his hot, white liquid gushes onto both your face and tongue; you suck at Dabi’s head until he forcibly pushes you off him. 

“Fuck,” he sighs, running a hand through his sweaty locks. “Knew you were good for something.” With that final statement, he turns away from you, pulling his pants back on and returning to his spot on the couch as though he wants nothing more to do with you. 

Kiego walks away as well, and you’re sure you’re about to be kicked out now that they’ve had their way with you. A part of you is angered, but a larger part is still processing what just happened, savoring the earth-shattering orgasm the pair blessed you with. 

You look for your discarded clothing, trying to compose yourself so you’re able to get out of their way as quickly as possible. Kiego walks back into the common area, wet rag in hand. He doesn’t speak until he pushes you into the couch, rubbing the clean towel over your face softly.

“So, you’re coming to our concert next week, right?” 

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

Tags:

@mindninjax @rat-suki @bakatenshii @yukiimanic @theygottheircages @lookslikeleese

DM me if you’d like to be tagged!

[hpalways]

Lyrical Mess || Venti

BARD Venti was someone you looked up to. Words would spill from his mouth like a waterfall, for he never ran out of lyrics and rhymes alike to sing about. You aspired to be like him, to one day have talent in bringing people together through music. Unfortunately, your mind was a little underwhelming in the creative department. Phrases and sentences jumbled up like a mess, trapping you in a sea ridden of any motivation whatsoever. 

"The distant lands, the people, the trees, they all truly resonate in me!" he sang, filling your ears of the melody. He was currently sitting on the huge tree in Windrise, rocking back and forth on the branch. Meanwhile, you were on the ground and leaning against the bark, trying to write down anything that could be worth mentioning. However, the page was as blank as it could be, an empty void of nothingness. The quill in your hand shook and squeezed, because the frustration was beginning to take its toll. 

"Venti, I can't think of anything! Don't you have any secrets that could help me?" you whined, pulling the ends of your [h/c] locks. Grabbing the lyre that was brought everywhere with you, you thrummed the strings of it, playing an ugly chord that halted his own singing. The golden instrument glimmered against the sunlight, nearly blinding your eyes. After spending almost all your savings on it one day, it easily became your most treasured item. 

The male leaned forward from the branch, his two aqua ombre braids waving along with the wind. Green eyes on you, they crinkled as he grinned in excitement. In his usual white top and teal shorts with stockings, his style was enough to make him recognizable. Not only that, but he was as adorable as when you first met him. To have him by your side... well, you certainly looked like a nobody. "Well, why are you sitting there on the ground? Come up here and you'll get loads of more inspiration." 

"Really?!" you exclaimed. Your gaze brightened as if you had met God and you quickly scrambled to your feet. He nodded, putting his hands on his hips in pride. "Okay. I'll go join you then." Rolling up the sleeves of your shirt, you knitted your brows together in perseverance. Readying for the climb ahead, you lifted your foot to take that first step. 

Goodbye. You were ready to die. Venti had made it look so easy with those fast and flexible limbs of his, but you were trembling to the core at this moment. The tree was much taller and wonky than you expected, gnarly and dangerous for someone with no balance like you. Panting heavily, you tightened your hold on your lyre as you heaved yourself upwards one last time. You crashed on the spot beside the bard and hit the hollow trunk in annoyance. Flinching at the pain inflicted more-so on you, you rubbed your hands as you tried to settle down. 

The view surely was nice. Mondstadt, the city of Freedom, could be seen from here. Meadows and small hills laid out across the board too, luscious and full of natural beauty. The color of it reminded you of Venti. 

"I can't do this," you groaned, rubbing your face in weariness. "I'm too tired to even think."

"You quit too easily," he said, frowning. Feeling all ashamed suddenly, you drooped your head and sighed. There was nothing worse than getting critiqued by someone you looked up to. "Oh, I know! I have a few other secret spots to show you. What do you say, my friend?"

"Alright. I'll give it another shot."

Before announcing to you what he was about to do, he scooped you up with those nimbly arms of his and jumped straight off from the branch. A scream threatened to leave you, but you kept quiet as you held onto him for dear life. He was crazy! But that might just be the reason why he was so popular in Mondstadt. 

With a thump! at the landing, Venti smoothly reached the ground with two legs still working. Carefully releasing you, he took out his own lyre from under his arm. It could not be said the same regarding you. Wobbly support below, you kneeled down and calmed your racing heart. 

Once you gained your grounding again, that was when it was time to set off. Following the bard on his tail, you watched as the dirt path turned into pavement and then into bricks. "Mondstadt...? Are you sure this will be helpful?" you questioned, squinting at the mundane scene in front of you. Living here your whole life, it was all too familiar for you to believe you'd find anything here. 

"Just trust me, [Y/N]!" he said, turning his head over his shoulder. Giggling softly, he returned to look ahead and marched onward.

You assumed it would be an unknown spot that could exhilarate you instantly. But of course, reality bit the dust. Standing in front of you was the local tavern, crowded of drunken adventurers. "You just wanted to stop by for a drink!" you said, whirling around to glare at the male. 

He stuck a tongue out and winked, leaving you more infuriated. This was the guy you idolized so much? He was such a sham. "Trust me... trust me..." he repeated, pulling your arm with him. The door opened up and he slipped in, with you stumbling after him. His grip never once loosening, he waltzed towards the bartender and dropped coins of mora. "The usual, please!" 

Securing a table to sit at, he set you down and sat directly from you. As you were about to spew words of insult, he beat the punch. 

"I'm serious. This is one of my secret spots," he explained. He nudged his head at the back of the tavern, where an empty space cleared of tables took place. "I sometimes perform here and so whenever I come here, I would get a good amount of ideas."

He had a point. You had been there too when he performed here, intrigued and immersed by a new world introduced by him. Slumping your shoulders slightly, you mutely nodded in agreement, tapping the quill against your chin. He grinned at your reaction, as if he was relieved to have escaped your wrath.

As he sipped his drink in peace, you began to write down some ideas. It was silent at the table, but it was not uncomfortable or awkward. You had known Venti for quite some time... and though you still admired him tons, he became a dear friend. Ink met the parchment and you scribbled them down quickly, as if your life was on the line. This proceeded for a while until he slammed his first empty glass down. When showing the notebook, you fidgeted in your seat as you waited for his thoughts.

"Whisking her away, he drowned the walls. She said he said to come to the dock..." he read it out loud. His features tightened and he let out a nervous laugh. "Um... er... it's not bad... How about this?! Why don't you perform a song from Teyvat! Singing a song always inspires me. You can use the stage over there! I'm sure the customers would love a lovely song sung by the beautiful maiden [Y/N]."

"So it's bad," you deadpanned.

"It's not!" he argued, panic shown in his eyes. "It could use some improvement, but anything can be improve, you know?"

"You don't need to lie to make me feel better," you sighed, pulling yourself up from the seat. Lumbering up to the stage, you strummed the strings of your lyre, catching the attention of a few customers. Breathing in deeply, you closed your eyes and started to sing a song. The song you heard Venti sing a few times. The song your parents sang as they lulled you to sleep. The song that wasn't yours, but everyone's. 

You were a fake. A lyrist who couldn't form her own words. A singer with no direction to turn to. 

When the song ended, a round of applause exploded from the audience who were smiling in approval. They all enjoyed it, except you. Giving them a quick bow with a smile plastered on your face, you then exited the stage and rushed through the tables, passing Venti and straight out the door. Running to the gates and not stopping once until you were out in the wilderness again, you slumped to the ground in shame. Angry tears blurred your vision and you crumpled the poor grass upon your hands. 

"You performed it perfectly..." he whispered, his small figure crouching down next to you. When did he get here? "What's upsetting you?"

"I messed up," you told him, glancing at the lyre in your hands. "I can't do a single thing right."

"No one noticed it."

"But... I did. It doesn't matter if no one else realized it, I know of my mistakes. And I'm so sorry Venti. I've been such a hindrance towards you today. You don't deserve listening to my complaints. Nor do you deserve cleaning after my mess." More tears slid out, slipping down your cheeks. "I just wish I was you."

A thumb swiped the droplets from your face, his skin warm to the touch. Startled, you watched him grow slightly sad. Why was he making that face? It looked so... empty... hopeless. He knew of something you didn't. "You don't want to be me, [Y/N], trust me. And I like you the way you are... so please, don't say that ever again." He straightened up and all traces of any misery was erased from his expression. "Let me cheer you up a bit! I can go sing a tune for you! I think that should do the trick for some inspiration."

[ffangirlingsince2001]

Nothing Alike: VII

Description: Geralt of Rivia has been tasked with taking out a fellow Witcher who has decided to settle down in a town. She has no intention of leaving and Geralt is forced to take matters into his own hands.

Geralt x Reader

Warnings: VIOLENCE, gore, smut, language, sadistic reader

MASTERLIST

She was silent for three days. Plotting and planning while the prison cart jostled her around like a sack of vengeful flour. Geralt tried to talk to her. He asked her if she was alright. She only ignored him, offering him the most persistent cold shoulder he had ever encountered.

The man dressed in the fancy suit also tried to talk to her. He apologized, he dragged her from the cart, and he threatened to cut off her fingers, but she never uttered a word. Even as the knife was held over statuesque fingers, she didn’t utter a word, the cogs in her mind only spin faster.

He didn’t actually cut off her fingers; it was more difficult to sell a slave when she didn’t have fingers. However, he didn’t hesitate to wrap his fingers around her throat until her lips turned blue and her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Even then she didn’t speak, so, in a fit of rage, he threw her back into the cart and ordered them onwards.

On the fourth day they pulled into a town and she was sitting up straight, the mask of an exhausted, weak prisoner covering that of a bloodthirsty mastermind.

“It’s a wonderful morning, don’t you think?” she asked through trails of crocodile tears, Geralt was so surprised she was finally speaking that he was unable to answer before the cart came to a bumpy halt in the center of town.

He was surprised about the number of people milling around a slave trade but at the sight of their streets and the gnarl to their smiles, he realized this wasn’t just the black market, this was a black city. Slashed across every home was a stripe of red paint, marking their payment to those above them. And as they were unloaded from the cart, shackled, and bound he found the payment.

Children and women were shackled just the same as they were, heads hung low as a man in a hood brandished his whip through the sky. They all seemed to flinch in unison, waiting for the thin wire to meet its mark. He and Y/N were added to the line, but she didn’t seem at all worried. It hadn’t seemed to sink in that it was too late. Any plan she had was nothing more than a suicide mission.

“Don’t,” he whispered, hoping she would listen, begging whatever god was listening that she would heed his word. She didn’t react, but the smug pep in her step never faltered. She was practically skipping as they led them towards city hall.

She definitely hadn’t listened.

At the steps of the building, a man who he presumed was the auctioneer, was collecting weapons from the wealthy. It seemed this auction had problems with unhappy customers. He eyed the iron as he was pushed past, wishing that at least one had fallen into his hands.

Once inside the building there were at least a hundred more wealthy individuals, watching with apt fascination as the prizes of the day were led around the room. Each slave was positioned against the wall. A time for the buyers to shop around, see what was worth spending their money on. And it seemed Y/N was the most interesting thing they had seen in a while. A crowd quickly gathered around her. Geralt strained to hear what they were saying, even seeing her reaction would have been enough, but the crowd was too large and a man who apparently hated Witchers was standing in front of him.

“I’d only buy him to kill him,” he informed whoever was willing to listen. Geralt eyed the scrawny man and had to refrain from rolling his eyes. The only thing that man looked capable of doing was pouring himself a drink at the local tavern. “You hear me Witcher, I’m gonna kill you.”

Geralt rolled his eyes that time.

It wasn’t until half an hour later when the crack of the whip sounded, and the slaves were moved to the stage. Somehow Y/N had ended up at the end, the prize of the evening. She looked solemn and a soft crocodile tear was rolling down her cheek. She even sniffed to add to the whole charade. Frankly, it was more ridiculous than the man who had spent the last half hour threatening him.

He stared out into the crowd as the few dozen slaves before them were sold off. Children sold for more than adults, and women sold for more than men. Every time the gavel slammed against the oak podium the slave winced before being dragged off the stage and handed to their purchaser. Some children sobbed for their mothers and the men fought, but the women were always quiet, resigned to their fate.

And then it was his turn.

Geralt was shoved to the front of the stage and caught the eye of the man who had been speaking to him throughout the viewing. He was clearly itching to rid the world of a Witcher. The moment it was open his hand was in the air and Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf, Butcher of Blavikan was sold for three gold pieces. It seemed witchers were not a popular purchase among the wealthy.

Truly, an insult to his life.

He was roughly dragged out of the room, but he wasn’t going to leave her behind, no matter how much she annoyed him. He struggled against the hold of the man leading him towards his buyer but something blunt caught him in the back of his head and he was on the ground, blood leaking from his scalp. The world grew dark and then there was nothing.

When Geralt awoke he was sure he was dead, and while that was inconvenient, he couldn’t help but chuckle about how mad the man who had bought him would be that he hadn’t been able to deed himself.

Hell was certainly not what he had expected, though he wasn’t sure he had really expected anything other than darkness. There was no fire and no brimstone; in fact, it was rather chilly. He was covered in blood, and he wasn’t entirely sure who it had once belonged to, it certainly wasn’t his, there was far too much of it. Hell seemed to be the same room he had been killed in, an annoying reminder that he had been bested by a clobber to the back of the head. The room stunk of death, and he wondered if it was his own corpse. He sniffed his arm, just to check.  

And then he heard what truly made it hell.

“Planning on getting up anytime soon?”

His head shot up, making the room spin, but the fact that his hell contained the Witcher he had made the mistake of latching to his belt made him question if mercy had ever existed.

She was covered in blood too, far more than he was. She was absolutely soaked, and he wondered if the blood in his hair was hers. The hell version of her had no similarity to the whimpering act she had been displaying moments before his life was cut short. She looked unnervingly smug, like she had won some wonderful prize. Maybe tormenting him was her prize.

And then he noticed the bodies.

One hundred bodies were spread across the floor, completely drained of blood, their wealthy white clothes no longer worth a cent. He swept his eyes across the carnage and then back to Y/N, and then to the auctioneer who he hadn’t noticed until now.

This wasn’t his hell; this was her heaven.

“I saved you one,” she announced, her voice snapping the silence in half. He only shook his head. It felt unnatural to speak hear, like he would be haunted if he dared to say anything in the presence of the once lively room. “Suit yourself,” she shrugged before turning towards the auctioneer who screamed beneath the gag she had once worn. She tossed the sword she had been holding to the ground and slunk forward, “More fun for me.”

Geralt looked away just as she dug her fingers into the auctioneer’s eyes. The screams were agonizing, echoing off the puddles of blood as he begged for mercy. That was all Geralt could make out through the terror, the word ‘please’. Had the sound not been so awful he would have laughed at the irony. After listening to the pleas of those he had sold, ignoring them with a grin, the last words the man would ever say were in perfect symmetry. And then with a gurgle he hit the floor, silent once more.

He allowed his eyes return to the Witcher as she stood in all her glory. She hopped down from the stage and wandered towards him, swinging the keys about her pinky finger. She unlocked his shackles and watched as he slipped around in the blood.

“Come on, you need a bath,” she informed him as she headed towards a door with minimal carnage.

“We need to leave.” She spun around, a dangerous glint in her eye.

“And why is that?”

“Someone will have alerted the authorities?”

“Who? The slaves I freed or one of the corpses? Or maybe you’re going to tell them?”

“You could have missed one,” he said ignoring her accusation.

“I didn’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Would you like to count the bodies? Because I did, before the auction as they groped me and gawked at my face while I stood on their pedestal, and then I counted them again as I removed their organs from their pompous chests. Now have you counted someone I might have missed, or are you going to join me for a bath? Even if you do leave now, you’re a walking target. Who are they going to suspect, the man covered in blood or the one who recently had a bath?” He didn’t respond, simply followed her up the stairs and into the small apartment above the auction house.

She stepped into the bathroom and smiled at had once been a wealthy man’s bath. The water had heated the water, tendrils of steam beckoning him forward. He watched as she shed her clothes. Even the skin beneath her clothes was stained crimson. Her dips and curves sunk into the water, instantly muddling it with her sins. She turned around, moaning at the feeling of warmth.

“You’re not scared, are you?”

“Of what?”

“Me.” It was a taunt, a ploy to get him in the water, and he knew it. It got him in the water, nonetheless. He quickly shed his clothes and joined her, sinking beneath the steaming surface. Beneath the water he opened his eyes and was met with equally golden eyes. Blood was drifting off the pair like the steam above them, swirling around like liquid rubies to match her treasure chest eyes. He quickly surfaced, the water burning his eyes, and watched as she scrubbed away what remained of her fun.

“How did you do it?” He didn’t want to know.

“When one of the men grabbed me, I stole the knife he had snuck in. The rest was as easy as gutting a pig. I let them buy me and the moment they removed the shackles, he was dead. No one noticed until the doors were locked, and then they were all mine. Each one of them begged for mercy and I only laughed, mercy for those who rape and pillage, certainly not if I’m the executioner.”

She seemed so pleased with herself, like she had eaten the best feast in her life, not killed a hundred men and women. He didn’t feel sorry for them, quite the opposite, but that didn’t change the fact she had killed them with a smile. He knew she had killed before but seeing her in action made it so much more real, so much more sinister.

“What happened to you?” he asked her softly and she quirked an eyebrow.

“Did you not hear me? I killed them, Geralt, they couldn’t have touched me if they tried.”

“No, not today. Before you could kill with a smile.” The smugness faltered.

“Some of us are just born this way.”

“Liar.”

“It’s none of your business.” She had the dangerous glint again, but this time it was directed at him. When he didn’t continue to pester it faded and she approached him slowly, still stained hands pulling her forward until she climbed into his lap. Something deep within him said he shouldn’t, but it died the moment she kissed him.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. Her fingers tanged themselves in his hair and a spare hand lined his length up with her entrance. She sank onto him without warning, the pair groaning in unison. She snapped her hips forward, lips still pressed to him as she fucked herself on his hard on. He bit her shoulder and she howled with delight, nails digging into his scalp.

The act was almost like a murder of its own. The pain and the release felt just as damaging as a knife wound. She was a banshee as his hands found her hips and slammed her against him. Water spilled across the floor as they rocked their own hurricane through the bath. He wasn’t sure when her orgasm ended and when the second began, but he did his best to match each peak of pleasure. It wasn’t until after the third that she slowed her angry pace. She nuzzled her face into his neck, hips still pushing forward with the help of his hands.

“You’d kill me with a smile,” she whispered, and he stuttered, but she kept the rhythm going. “If you could bring yourself to do it, you’d kill me and grin all the while.”

“Y/N-.”

“Don’t worry, you’re not the first.” The questions flooded his mind, but he remained silent as a soft moan filled his ears. She was close again and he joined her as her muscles tightened and then released with uncharacteristic softness. She pulled away, clearly not in the mood to say anything more. “We should head out soon.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m bored.” She’d had her brains fucked out and she was already bored. Typical. He climbed out of the bath after her and waited for her to return after the promise of clean clothes. They quietly dressed and then she led him down to the stables where Roach was waiting patiently. He climbed on and hauled her on after him.

And then they left it all behind.

Taglist: @stuckupstucky @aurora-sweet @holyhumorliteraturelight @dreams-of-sunlight-and-starfire @auds24

[writingfromkitchenator]

Thranduil ~ My Heart

1,300 Followers Challenge!

Round 2

Masterlist

Requested by @ifitaketwomoresteps

Based on an imagine found here by @imaginexhobbit

Words: 2,018

Warnings: Female Reader, fluff, angst, secret relationship, family involvement

Thranduil still wasn't sure what it was, he still wasn't sure how this had happened, but he couldn't deny how he felt about you.  He still remembered when word reached him, of Thrain having taken another young dwarf under his wing, one that was to be treated as equally as his sons and daughter.

There were many rumours surrounding what had happened, but Thranduil had been stunned when he saw you.

You held yourself as tall and proud as any Durin, as if the blood actually did course through your veins. Standing next to Dis, you greeted him and other guests as if this was something that you'd been doing all your life. Thranduil couldn't put his finger on it, but he was enamoured from the moment he saw you.

All throughout his first meeting, his eyes hardly left you.  He knew he shouldn't have, he knew that it was drawing attention, but he couldn't bring himself to look away.

It was ridiculous of course, the idea of falling in love with a dwarf.  It was almost taboo.

But fall he did, and it seemed that you did too.

A letter reached him, and he couldn't help but stare at the words for a long time.

Meet me at the edge of Laketown, where the river flows under the moonlight.  Three days from now, I will be there.  If you do not come, I will still have my answer.

Thranduil spent hours agonising over his decision.  He knew what he wanted, but he also knew that this would affect his people, that this could possibly cause future problems.

But he had to know. He had to know what this truly was.

He stared at the meeting spot for a long time, watching you as you looked over the lake, bathed in moonlight, his heart in his throat.  You were a sight to behold, and for the first time, he did not doubt his decision to come.

You turned and softly smiled at him as you heard him approach.  “I was starting to fear the worst.”

Thranduil returns the smile and shakes his head.  “I could hardly give you an answer with silence, this is far more enlightening.”

“Oh?”  You chuckled.  “Does that mean I should still be in fear of how this will go?”

He shakes his head, stepping before you and holding your gaze.  “No, it does not.  I wish to be here Y/N, and I wish to be with you.  If you do not feel the same, then please, tell me now.”

“Thranduil,” His name sounded so strange yet so familiar on your lips.  “If I did not wish you here, if I did not wish to seek your company, I would not have asked.”

It was the start of something wonderful between the two of you.  Secretive, but wonderful.  Kisses were stolen in the brief meetings you dared to have, soft laughter shared in soft moments.  You both knew that it was against the customs of your people, but in the time that you got to spend with each other, nothing else mattered.

It was only a matter of time before it all went wrong.

You were both aware of the small rumours circulating, but you’d both chosen to ignore them, simply seeming surprised if it was ever raised to you.  You both thought that this was best method to keep having it go unnoticed for as long as possible.

But when word reached your grandfather, it was only a matter of time before it reached your father.

He was furious, ignoring your denial, and ordered for whatever was going on between you and Thranduil to stop.  Thrain refused to look at you as he said that such a thing was practically unheard of, and that it was a major dishonour for you and your family if was true, leaving you feeling very alone when he left.

Dis and Frerin were understanding, but you understood when Thorin had to take Thrain’s side, and with their help, you managed to set up a final meeting with Thranduil.

Thranduil had known as soon as he saw you that something had happened, and whatever was coming, was going to be nothing good.  He held you close as you told him, but refusing for tears to come, your pride barely holding you together.

“There is a way we can do this without having to stop seeing each other,” He said calmly, earning your worried but hopeful gaze.  “Although, I can’t imagine that it will go down too well, and it will take time for things to settle again.  Perhaps once that is the case, we can do this properly.”

You stared at him. “We both know that my father will not allow such a thing.”

He presses your lips lightly to yours, smiling softly.  “Then I will have to convince him.  For now though, one thing at a time.  We will make something public, showing just how ridiculous the rumours are.”

“Thranduil,” You sighed heavily.  “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Just trust me.”  He kissed your forehead.  “Play along.  It has to be convincing.”

For the last time in a long time, you just stood in silence, holding each other, thinking about what was to come, and if this plan would work.

Thranduil led the way as he said he would, meeting with Thrain and Thror in something unrelated, and it was only as the meeting began to conclude, that he raised the issue.

“There are certain rumours that I’ve heard,” He said lightly, his eyes flicking between the two dwarves, even as Thorin glanced at you from across the table.  “That I have been seeing a certain princess behind your backs.  I wish to state, with utmost respect, that these are not true.”

Thror nods, as if that was to be the end of it, but Thrain bristled, as Thranduil knew that he would, and pushed it further.  “I have more than a few reliable sources stating to the contrary.”

Thranduil raised an eyebrow.  “I am certain that you are not intending to call me a liar, however, you have my word that I have not been doing such a thing.  Not only would be uncustomary for both our peoples, but Y/N is not exactly my type.”

You shifted uncomfortably, knowing what his plan was, but it didn’t make the lies any easier to hear.

Thrain bristled further. “If you are trying to insult us Thranduil, then you are succeeding.  Both claiming that we are foolish to believe you and that you believe my daughter is not good enough for you.”

“I am simply stating the truth,” Thranduil said with a small shrug.  “I have not been seeing Princess Y/N behind your backs, and, not only do I prefer elvish women, but Y/N is not exactly up to my height standards.”

You bristled at this, folding your arms across the table and glaring at him.  “Don't call me short you arsehole.”

His gaze went to you and he did well to hide his amusement.  “My apologies princess, but surely you have been suffering at the cause of this rumour as well?”

“Yes, and they won’t take my word for it either,” You said, forcing yourself to look away and glare at Thrain, so you didn’t blow the whole thing.  “Which is just as insulting as you.”

Thrain’s face tinged with red and he huffed.  “If that is the case, then you are calling your brother a liar as well.”

Your gaze went to Thorin, who avoided your eyes.  This was not something that you’d been expecting, and now it meant that you had to tread extra carefully.  “Clearly whatever Thorin saw, he was mistaken.”

“I’m sure that there are a lot of dwarves that look like the princess,” Thranduil said lightly, although there was no missing the slight tension in his shoulders.  “And I have spoken to my fair share, including the princess herself.  Perhaps I should just avoid conversation in the future.”

Thrain’s eyes flashed.  “That’s the problem right there, Thranduil, you were not talking.”

A silence fell in the room even as you felt your face practically ignite.

“It’s not like I wanted to see anything,” Thorin grumbled low, avoiding looking up, his face turning a darker shade of red.  “But when it was insisted upon that I follow you, when the rumour first started going around.”

You stared at Thorin for a long moment before your glare landed on Thrain. “You had him spying on me?  Did you really think that that was most appropriate course of action?”

“I did what I had to do to protect my family.”  Thrain said firmly.  “Even if that means protecting you from yourself.”

“Then trust me with my own decisions,” You growled, fury bubbling away in your stomach.  “I don’t see you spying on the others and judging who they see.”

“Because I can clearly trust them!”  Thrain said, standing, his hands slamming on the table.  “I can trust them to keep this bloodline within these halls!”

You bit your tongue, hard, knowing that if you spoke, you would regret the words forever.  Instead, you got to your feet and stormed from the room, no matter how much Thrain called after you.

You locked yourself in your room and finally let the emotions, one you held so carefully onto you, go.  It all hurt, so much, and you wished that something, anything, in that moment would come and take you away so you could just forget it all.

It seemed like hours passed before there was a gentle knock on your door, and despite it all, you went and opened it.

Thorin stood there and you almost slammed the door in his face, but he caught it quickly.  “Y/N, wait, please.”

You glared at him and he sighed as he waited.

“I am sorry,” He said quietly, holding your gaze.  “It was not my intention for this to happen, and it was quite by accident that Father found out at all.  Perhaps going behind his back was not the best idea, but I can understand why you did so.”  Thorin quickly looked down either side of the hall, before slipping a folded note out from his pocket.

“I hope this helps, whatever happens,” He said, waiting for you to take it. “And should…the worse happen, then I will help where I can.”

You stared at him and slowly took the note, thumbing it open enough to see Thranduil’s writing, before looking back at him.  “Thank you Thorin.  I’m not sure I can forgive you yet, but I am glad that you are not just shutting me down.”

Thorin gives a small bow.  “I can understand that, my sister, and for what it is worth, Thranduil seems an honourable man, and you seem happy with him.  That is all I could ever wish for you.”

He bows again and leaves, leaving you staring after him for a long moment until you quietly close and lock your door again.

The note suddenly felt heavy in your hands and you stared at it for a long moment before you willed yourself to open it.

My heart, I am sorry for how today went, it was not and never was my intention to upset you.  For now, things are tenuous with your father and may take some time to recover, and I fear that we will not be able to see each other within that time, no matter how clever and careful we may be.  You must be patient.

Know that this is not the end, I will find a way out of this for us.  Should you ever have need of me, wait at the edge of Laketown, where the river flows under the moonlight.  I shall have those I trust watch there for you.

Until we see each other again, my heart.

Yours forever,

Thranduil

“What if I need you now?”  You asked to your room, leaning back against your door, a million questions racing through your mind.

This was not meant to be how this happened.

[realityhelixcreates]

Lasabrjotr Chapter 77: Like a Good Old-Fashioned Barn Raising

Chapters: 77/?

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: pg

Relationships: Loki x Reader

Characters: Loki (Marvel),

Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Party Time

Summary:  Buridag begins!

Loki was awake long before you were, getting preparations ready, loose ends tied up, last minute orders sent out. He allowed you to sleep until you woke on your own, having removed his little illusory alarms from you some time ago.

Sometimes flower petals still rained upon you, and perfume rose from your footsteps, but no more snakes in the bath.

So you rose slowly, stretching and yawning the grogginess away at your own pace. Time was very hard to tell by looking out windows at this time of year, but when Loki entered the room carrying an egg sandwich, a little pile of fresh potato chips, and a glass of coffee, you placed yourself firmly within brunch territory.

Loki flicked on your sunlamp, gestured at the chair, and handed you your brunch once you'd taken your seat.

You munched your food and absorbed your light while Loki laid out the day's plans. You'd get dressed in a ceremonial outfit that included your armor and helmet, and join the parade that was gathering even now.

They were initially going to put you on Sleipnir. You had asked them not to. Sleipnir was magnificent, but you had no connection to him, nor to Leynarodd, who was the second choice. Your sweet, stout, shaggy little Acorn was who you preferred, a horse that belonged to no one initially, but who had formed a trusting bond with you.

Your clothing was, predictably, green, the underdress and apron a dark mossy color, hemmed on all edges with fine gold braid, embroidered with stripes of delicate knotwork, and your mark, also in gold. Over the top of this went your quilted tunic, in it's shimmering jade, and then your armor; the breastplate, the tassets, the bracers, pauldrons, greaves, and poleyns, though the last two were not visible. They went on over the leather trousers you'd been given to wear under your dress. They were sleek things, made of tough black leather, pleated in diagonal patterns, just like something Loki would wear. You thought the pleats had the advantage of putting more leather between you and any danger, and were flexible as well.

There were actually places where your familiar oval brooches could be fastened, your strings of shining beads strung between, your chatelaine dangled. Your belt was tooled leather and brass findings, hung with a leather purse, your Yggdrasil phone case, a small drinking horn carved with your mark, and of course, your knife. A little burst of deep pink against all the gold, green, and black.

You wore a minty-green velvet cape, a gift from Andsvarr, and your beautiful helmet to top it all off. You truly looked like something out of a fantasy novel, someone who looked like they should be standing next to the legendary figure that Loki currently cut.

He looked enormous, with his many asymmetrical layers, and molded shoulder guards, his billowing cape and hair spilling from beneath his magnificent curling horns. He shone with nornbein, and his cloak, shot with silk, shimmered subtly.

“You're so beautiful.” you mumbled. Loki smiled, and leaned down to adjust your cape, cheeks dusted with pink.

“Thank you.” he said, “I make every attempt. Though I think I will fade into the background under the power of your radiance.”

Warmth rushed to your face.

“Um, I know we've got to hurry and get Acorn, but I want to ask you a favor, Loki.”

“Anything. Tell me what it is and I'll make it so.”

You took a deep breath.

“I need you to stop trying to impress my father.”

The pink on his cheeks transformed into bright red.

“Ah. Yes, I rather hashed that, didn't I? I apologize. I thought that was still standard procedure, but your father, uh, explained otherwise.”

“Mhm, I'll bet he did. Look, I know you wanted to surprise us, but when it comes to things like that, you really oughta run it by me first. I could have told you that wouldn't work out the way you thought it would. You know, saved you from being chewed out like that. You can let me save you sometimes too.”

“ Like with the Huldra.”

“Kinda. Dad's not as bloodthirsty as she was, but he's a lot more stubborn.”

“Like father, like daughter, hm?” he teased.

“You have not seen me be stubborn yet.” you warned, and he gave you a quick smooch.

“A blessing, I'm sure. Very well, I agree. Surprises get run by you. Anything to save me from another tongue lashing. That man truly does not hold back.”

“I mean it though.” you persisted. “I'm not saying that you can't have any surprises at all, but talk to me about big stuff like that. If it's something that Asgardian law or custom would demand, but would be insulting to a human, we can maybe hash out an alternative that would satisfy both. That's the point, isn't it? Please, I really don't want to deal with anymore trouble between you two. Don't get hung up on impressing him, he has every reason to reject it, and he will. No more gifts, no toasts, no calling attention to him in public, nothing. He hates being the center of attention. Just let him be a guest, and see, without interference, that his little girl is doing fine on her own.”

“I really didn't mean to make him so angry.” Loki said, a little crestfallen. “And the more I tried to explain, the angrier he became. I just wanted him to know how much I value you. I wanted you to know too.”

“Material culture is different where I'm from. There are places in the world where that would have been understood and appreciated, but we've stopped doing it. In the same vein, fathers don't make all the decisions for their daughters anymore, so you don't actually need his approval. But...I need you to understand, it's not just that you took away his child, though that's bad enough. It's that I'm the only family he has left. My grandma only had one kid, and that was my dad. And she's dead, and so's my granddad, before I was even born. And then my mom died, and Beth too, and so I'm all that's left for him. And I have this giant Sword of Damocles hanging over my head all the time, and he's had to worry about that for my whole life. Most of the women on my mom's side all died from this, but occasionally, rarely, there's one that doesn't. I'm starting to hope that might be me. Maybe the magic is protecting me. But he's not going to be able to accept that so easily. I'm all he had left, and you took me away. That's all that's going to be important to him. You didn't even have to do the things you did in New York, this is the worst possible crime you could commit, in his eyes.”

Loki heaved a sigh of remorse. “And I cannot even return you to him. It seems there is one more thing I cannot set right.”

“The best you can do is make sure I'm okay. And don't bother him anymore. And maybe let him come visit more often. The more he sees me living my life and being fine, the more confidence he will have that I'm actually safe here.”

“I shall endeavor to help you thrive.” Loki promised.

“All right, so if that's settled, we should go get our horses.”

                                                                         ******

Acorn was, like you, a bit overdressed in your opinion. Long tabbards and blankets covered her from nose to rump, green and gold, embroidered with oak leaves. They were so long, they almost brushed the ground. Ribbons were braided into her wild mane and tail, and bells jingled with every movement. Like you, she could barely be seen under her splendor. But she was probably warm, and happily accepted a carrot from your hand. Placid as always, she let you up on her back, and fell into step behind Leynarodd, who likewise, followed up behind Sleipnir, whose hooves still rang like bells even over the thin layer of packed snow that covered the recently cleared streets.

There was a whole procession of people-this was a parade after all, and Thor, on Sleipnir, was preceded by the twin Valkyries, carrying Asgardian banners, as well as several musicians, and Beli, who chanted an ancient epic on the exploits of Buri.

Saga had translated the chant for you a while ago, and it sounded something like the sensationalized, self-aggrandizing boasts of pharaohs, or Mesopotamian kings-the kind that claimed to be rulers of the world, or rulers of the heavens themselves, to have battled armies of demons, killed giant lions with only a stick-that sort of thing. But when Beli called out those verses in such an ancient dialect of Asgardian, the words themselves felt powerful.

Thor followed slowly, Sliepnir plodding along, both of them absolutely huge. Loki and Leynarodd came right behind, only slightly smaller. And then you and Acorn, almost comical in your stature, diminutive by comparison. You were keenly aware of it, but either all of Asgard was too polite to say anything about it, or they simply didn't care.

The human guests, corralled in roped off areas, whooped and cheered when when you passed. Behind you, more musicians played, and a circle of Seidkonas walked in silent dignity. Then came more banners, the rest of the Valkyries, representatives of each noble house and guild, and the rest of the Aesir in Asgard, provided they didn't already have another position in the parade.

After them, the gathered Asgardians began following, lengthening out the procession, bright balls of magical light bobbing overhead. The sun had barely peeked over the horizon, and would be slinking away in a mere three or so hours, so the mage lights sparkled everywhere. Helpful Einherjar herded the humans to the next specially roped off area, so they could follow the parade as well; you caught a few amused faces at the playful rowdiness displayed by celebrating humans.

That was just how humans were when they were excited about something. Humans loved to holler, to jump, and dance, and clap. Some of them were even trying to keep time with the music.

You weren't actually able to pick out your father or Tara in the crowd, nor anyone else you knew, so you just kept your head forward and your back straight, trying to look as dignified as you could.

You'd only ever seen a few of what you considered 'proper' parades: in a small town a parade mostly consisted of people waving from the backs of neighborhood pickup trucks and tractors, maybe decorated with balloons or paper chains, blasting music from dusty old speakers. In the autumn, there might be pumpkins and corn stalks, and usually hayrides. But never anything like this spectacle.

As you got closer to the construction site, the apprentice mages responsible for all the floating lights started throwing sparks from their hands, like colorful sparklers. The gathered Asgardians began lining up in their designated areas, ready to play their part. The foundations had already been dug, and everything that needed to go into them was already there. All that remained was the pouring.

Thor, Loki, and yourself dismounted as close to in unison as you could manage, the horses carefully lead away to a temporary enclosure. You headed to the stack of decorative bricks, and took your place among the Asgardians there, while Thor gave the order for the cement to pour.

While this went on, Beli gathered his students and skalds in front of the Huldrastone to recite a modern epic. Within the first few verses you realized that it was about the Huldra's attack, and your confrontation with her.

Of course, the poem was much cleaner and more elegant than the actual events had been, but certain things had still been included. Your ears burned beneath your helmet when Beli reached the part where you had 'bestowed upon the fallen prince, a gentle sacrificial kiss, knowing that to trade life for life would grant him breath once more.'

You had finally spotted your father and Tara in the crowd; he crossed his arms and glared upon hearing the verse, while Tara gave you a cheezy grin and thumbs up.

As the poem reached its conclusion, the cement finished pouring, and a new recitation began. As Thor and Loki knelt and began scratching ritual runes into the wet cement, Beli's current group of student came forward and began telling the story of Beli, while apprentice mages illustrated the words with colorful, stylized illusions.

There were harrowing battles against huge stone people, the construction of the original Bifrost, which at that time connected a fleet of alien ships to one another. The illusions showed the gathering of construction materials, the building of a platform in space, and the grand revelation of the crystalline platform upon which Asgard slowly grew. Mountain and plain, river and ocean, building after magnificent building rose into the sky. Their ships captured and carved an asteroid, then set it in orbit as a bright new moon. All this was accomplished by the use of a glowing, icy blue cube that was difficult to look directly at. It was compelling though; it caught and held your attention with its beautiful, sparkling light.

You knew what that device was: you had learned about it in your lessons with Saga. It was the object known as the Tesseract, a four dimensional creation meant to house the incredible energy of an Infinity Stone. Perhaps that was why it was simultaneously fascinating, yet hard to perceive. Your curious human brain was drawn to its uniqueness, yet equally unable to fully fathom it.

That device was the key to Asgard's existence and eventual success. It was unthinkable to you that Odin had just lost it on Earth, as Sagas histories had proclaimed. It must have been a terrible loss.

Thor and Loki completed their carving, and began the process of imbuing the foundations with divine power. Goosebumps rose on your arms, and there was a pricking in your sinuses, like you were about to sneeze. There was almost a flavor to it.

The actual blessing didn't take nearly as long as the rune carving ritual, and soon, the two brothers stepped back, to allow others to begin their work. More mages worked a spell together that lifted the water out of the cement, drying it within moments. People came forward with wires and pipes, floor and wall supports, insulation, hammers, plaster, bricks, and mortar. In rotating lines people laid flooring and installed fixtures, scraped grout and assembled frames. Every now and then youths moved through, sweeping up dust, always away from you.

It suddenly became clear that that was why you were so far back in line, why you'd been assigned a decorative brick, something that would be placed near the very end of the construction. There would be no dust then. Gratitude swelled in your chest, but you said nothing. There was singing now, simple, repetitive melodies that sounded like work songs.

Every hour, volunteers carted huge, heated cauldrons around the lines and groups of human spectators, dipping out hot drinks like witch's potions, and it was possible that there was a simple sort of magic in things like hot chocolate, strong coffee, and buttered rum on a cold day.

The building went up faster than you thought possible, the widows, doors, and lights being set into place as auroras began ribboning across the sky.

Finally, there was one brick left. You lifted it up, as the singing seemed to intensify, scooped some mortar from the pail, and fitted it all into the only remaining slot. Giving the brick a light pat to make sure it was secure, you turned back to the assembled crowd.

“We did it.” You said, and the cheering began.

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.21}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5.8k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

"Tell me again." Cas demanded as she snatched a piece of bacon off Simon's plate, while keeping her piercing gaze fixed on Robin. "Why are you wearing way fancier clothes than normal?"

"I told you that I'm not telling you, and that's not going to change no matter how many times you ask." Robin shrugged, then subtly moved her own bacon over to Simon to compensate for his loss. The boy thanked her with a small smile, but obviously didn't dare to interrupt the girls' conversation with words. So Robin looked back to Cas. "You'll just have to wait and see like everyone else. Showing some patience will do you good."

"I do have a suspicion." Jorien smirked quietly while Cas just pouted, and Robin quirked an eyebrow at her, which however didn't bother the girl at all. "You don't have to glare at me, I didn't plan on telling anyone."

"Good." Robin replied in an equally quiet tone, but she couldn't help the feeling that Jorien knew a lot more than she let on. Even more than she should know, perhaps. Oh well… only time could confirm that.

"I honestly can't believe that Professor Snape is going to do our dancing class!" Cas finally got over herself and continued with her usual morning-ramble that never failed to entertain at least half of the table they were residing at that day. "I mean, I did watch him while he was dancing with Robin last year, but I honestly can't imagine how he's going to cope with people having to touch him. Melissa and I saw how Professor Sprout put her hand on his arm last week while deep in conversation, and he literally flinched away before giving her a death glare. If you ask me, that man has some serious problems."

"Who do you think he's going to force to dance with him?" Gideon asked with a humoured huff, and Robin suddenly found herself glad that she never spoke much during meals. That way at least nobody thought her oddly quiet on the issue.

"Oh gods, I have no idea." Cas rolled her eyes exaggeratedly and then sighed. "I'm bloody curious nonetheless. I literally can't imagine him actually dancing today in the first place, and hadn't I seen it before, I promise you I would be entirely convinced that he can't dance at all."

"I'm pretty sure the entire school watched him dancing at last year's ball… Who would've thought that was ever in the realm of possibility." Gideon shrugged, then glanced at Robin. "Say, why did you even agree to dance with our very own dungeon bat? I think you might just be the only one who ever did."

Robin thought for a second about telling them that she had been the one to ask him in the first place, but that wouldn't really fit in with his 'scary professor' image and she wouldn't dare scraping at that. So she settled for a different truth, which came out a bit more harshly than intended. "I will gladly dance with him again any time, if that's what you're wondering about, and I would choose him over any of the imbeciles who think it necessary to insult him to flatter their own meek egos. I haven't ever had a better partner, and it was I who was lucky to have that dance indeed, so until you can keep up with that, you'd better be keeping your noses in your own business."

The group was quiet for a moment, while everyone was obviously feeling scolded by Robin's words, but she didn't bother rectifying her intentions. Should they know that she didn't appreciate it when they spoke badly of Snape, or subjected themselves to pathetic gossip and rumour. The only one who looked rather amused by the entire thing was Jorien, which in return put fuel to Robin's belief that the girl knew more than her peers.

"So, what do you think Lisa is going to wear to the ball, huh? Not that hideous thing she showed us in the magazines, hopefully…" Cas finally broke the silence, changing the topic as easily as if the awkwardness before hadn't happened at all, and when everyone engaged in cheerful chatting again, Robin was honestly glad for the average student's shallow approach to conversation. Sometimes, it truly was a gift that other people didn't overthink quite as much as she did herself.

Breakfast went by quickly from there on, without any more disconcerting questions or topics other than the ordinary kind, and once the meal was officially over, the great hall became increasingly more vacant. When the boys finally went to leave, Robin got up as well, but instead of accompanying them to the exit, she made her way to the head table unseen by those whose eye she was trying to avoid, and then spent the next few minutes discussing the terms of their bullshit bingo with Snape. They intentionally engaged in this topic of conversation rather than discussing something of actual importance, such as the impending dancing instruction, for that would have reminded both of them of the uncomfortable truth that by lunch, the entire school would likely be talking about this. About them, dancing. Last night, neither of them really had thought about the consequences of having to hide just how close they were while being in the center of public display like this, but then again, it didn't change a thing now that they were suddenly hyper aware of all the very real students around them. Students who were taking more and more interest in the two black-clad figures standing where once the head table had been even after everyone else was gone. Robin's face was set in calm neutrality as always, just like Snape wore his usual scowl, but when they looked at each other once more for a brief moment of reassurance, Robin knew that they both had made their decision, and now they would go through with it. Happily, and without a hint of regret whatsoever. She almost would've smiled to herself when she turned back towards the students ahead of them, and mirrored his stance with her arms crossed behind her back while they watched the dunderheads in silence. Public display or not, this would be over soon, and she would enjoy it as good as possible.

When the hall was finally cleared of tables and seats, and it was just the fourth year Slytherins on one side and the Ravenclaws on the other, all it took was for Snape to move a few steps towards the middle of the hall for everyone to fall silent within seconds. The sheer power he held over people with his mere presence still gave Robin chills, but unlike the effect he had on everyone else in the room, those chills were very much pleasant ones for her. The neutrality on her face stayed set in stone nonetheless, and for a while she merely listened to him explaining the common ordeal much like McGonagall had, but with one subtle difference. She had explained dancing as a cultural custom, a form of etiquette much like properly using one's cutlery, with a clear focus on getting the movements right and sustaining a sense of elegance. Snape however had a bit of a different understanding of what it meant to dance, and Robin couldn't help being mesmerized by the deeper meaning behind his not-quite-so shallow explanation; to him, dancing obviously was an art. It was like a dialogue without words, a mutual understanding of giving and taking with equal care and attention. A game of control and surrender, and yet of equality and trust. Foremost, it was all about one's partner, and not about upholding an outside appearance. That perhaps was the only part he worded quite as directly as Robin knew he meant it, but she had no idea how much of this actually got through to the students. Then again, what wasn't there to understand about the delicacy of a swift and smooth waltz? Going by the looks on the students' faces, obviously a lot.

After the unintentional poetry that seemed entirely wasted on most people currently present, Snape went on to explain the actual dance. Six basic steps, no more and no less, but Robin didn't particularly listen to that part for more than the constant flow of his voice. Instead, she sought out Cas and Jorien in the group of Slytherins, and as her eyes traveled over the students, she found herself surprised by just how many of the faces she had seen before. The vast majority of the fourth years was almost familiar to her at this point, and the rest at least somewhat recognizable. She'd never realized that she'd tutored almost all of them before. But what were their names again…? Good gods, her respect for her teachers grew an ineffable amount for memorizing hundreds upon hundreds of names like it was nothing. How did they do that anyway?

Lost in thought and silent question to herself, she missed the rousing of whispers around the room, the glances thrown at her, and was only drawn out of her head when Snape's voice suddenly sounded from right next to her.

"It is time." He said almost under his breath, in a soft tone that would very well betray his indifferent expression if anyone else would have heard but Robin. Then he offered a hand to her in a simple and silent question, which brought the faintest smile to Robin's lips in return. Of course he wouldn't actually ask, at least not with about fifty pairs of eyes fixed on them quite so intently.

"They're all staring at us…" She breathed with a hint of a smile, then placed her hand in his and ignored the surge of electricity that ran up her arm upon the brush of skin against skin. "Well, at least you have their fullest attention now."

"We do." He corrected quietly as he led her back to the middle of the hall, under the careful watch and quiet commentary of their students, before stopping short and drawing her closer to himself. Robin's hands found their destined places without conscious thought while Snape's did the same, and while she wanted to sigh at the gentle warmth of his palm pressing against her back, she also wanted to smile when he almost leaned into her touch in return. It wasn't a visible reaction, obviously, and neither did she give one herself, but rather a common feeling that fell over them like a soothing blanket of safety and belonging. Her thoughts didn't linger however when a soft music started playing out of nowhere as soon as they had found their positions, and with the easy grace that was to be expected of a proper waltz, they started moving through the wide space of the hall.

It really was quite like he had explained, a wordless dialogue spoken entirely with the eyes in a lingering gaze, and a fixed focus solemnly on each other in the shared movements of the dance. Before long Robin couldn't help smiling a little more brightly than her facade of neutrality could cover up for, but she honestly couldn't care less about it. How was she supposed to hide both her feelings for Snape AND the joy of dancing with him? Impossible. Thus, as it seemed, showing a bit of the lesser evil was the best she could do, and if she looked closely enough, he seemed to be fighting a similar war within himself.

It was much too soon when the musical piece floated to an end on its last notes, and they came to a stand in the middle of the room, which oddly enough had remained quite silent throughout the whole endeavour. Robin's chest was heaving ever so slightly –it had been a while since she'd gotten so much exercise– and she had trouble tearing her eyes away from his, even after the broken second it took her to remember the many students gawking at them. Her smile dimmed down the remaining bit back into neutral territory, she focused on calming her breathing, and finally also took a step backwards to an appropriate distance to her partner. The roaring fire inside of her however didn't dim down in the least, and as she held his gaze for a moment longer, she had no doubt he got a clear view of just that in her eyes. It made the corners of her lips quirk up for a fraction of a second, which elicited much the same reaction from him for an even shorter moment, before he finally turned back towards the students in complete professor mode and with the usual grandeur and billowing robes. Instead of smiling at his antics like she wanted to, Robin merely crossed her arms behind her back with his mirrored signature indifference painted on her face and thought about the last five minutes.

All in all, they had done remarkably well; to the students, it had been nothing but a factual demonstration of a dance, that much she could read on their faces now. It was odd, really, and oh so typical that all of Snape's and even her own microexpressions had gone unnoticed by the majority of students at least. If it hadn't, there surely would be more glances and whispers now. Instead, most of the students simply looked either bored or eager to start practicing themselves, and that really was as good an outcome as she could've hoped for. No one suspected a thing. Brilliant!

Snape briefly gave a few more instructions for the following practice session, effectively threatening everyone to stay in line, and while the students then more or less reluctantly paired up to try their luck, he came to stand next to Robin once again.

"Thank you for a perfect dance." His voice took on the same quiet tone as before, and Robin didn't miss the subtle brush of his arm against her shoulder as he moved past her. She had to smile before she could help it, while her poor pathetic heart skipped more than just one beat.

"Anytime." She breathed in return, and after the second it took her to get a grip on herself now again, they both went on to do just as planned; instructing the dunderheads in the art of dancing, and playing their little game of slightly modified bullshit bingo on the side.

It really was quite a blessing that McGonagall had given them the shorter time frame before lunch, for in no time at all it was nearing noon, and the lesson came to an end when the tables had to be put back into place for the meal. Funnily enough, the students' practice had been more than successful, and in comparison to Robin's memories, the young Slytherins and Ravenclaws had done a whole lot better now than the mixed Slytherin and Gryffindor students under McGonagall's tutelage back then. While the students settled down at the tables that were put back into place, Robin told Snape about her observation –not without a sense of pride, admittedly– and he seemed more than pleased with her words as well. Not that he would ever admit that much while in public, but Robin could tell by the not-smirk and the fairly smug expression he gave McGonagall when she showed up for lunch entirely oblivious to the conversation that had taken place seconds before. That, and he had won at their game by far, which also served to brighten his mood enough to actually show. Yes, for a more or less spontaneous dancing lesson on a gloomy Saturday morning, they really had done their very best, and had –against all odds– had quite a bit of fun on the side.

When the other professors started appearing at the head table in a shocking eagerness not for the impending lunch but for the hottest gossip about the recent dancing class, Robin took it as her cue to leave. She did feel sorry to leave Snape for their curiosity to prey on, but there was nothing she could do other than giving him an encouraging smile and say 'laters' in the hopes he would know that he still had their afternoon plans which he could look forward to. If he was remotely as happy about them as she was, that is. But then again, finishing their experimental potion and taking a walk in the snow were rather lovely prospects indeed.

With an almost defeated sigh, Robin finally made for the Ravenclaw table where Jorien and Cas had already taken a seat and were now chatting (or rather bickering) away like always.

"Hey guys… how'd you like the dancing?" She asked as she flopped down on the bench next to Jorien, for the space next to Cas was obviously reserved for the boys who had yet to appear. "Both of you did quite well, actually, if you'd fancy to hear my opinion on it."

The girls fell silent in but a second, and then continued to stare at Robin for a moment in an unspoken agreement that made her uneasy. Had she said something wrong? It was just supposed to be a compliment…

"Are we really doing this?" Cas asked in return, ignoring the previous question entirely.

"Yes we are." Jorien chuckled. "It's Robin, what did you expect?"

"Nothing but this, actually."

"Right?!"

"Guys!" Robin protested with a frown, and alternating glances between both of them. "What's going on? Explain."

"Did you know that you smiled while dancing with Snape?" Cas asked with a smug smile of her own. "Not enough for anyone else to take special notice of, obviously, but we've known you and your subtlety for years now. It was hard to miss that you actually smiled for once."

"And?" Robin raised an eyebrow at her in return, and she had a vague feeling where this conversation was going. Not good.

"You never smile." Cas replied with a huff in amusement. "You smirk, or sneer, but you never smile."

"Of course I smile! Quite often even." She defended herself immediately, but as she ran through her memories of instances where she'd knowingly smiled, she came to realize that the majority if not all of them had been in the sole company of one potions professor. Oh dear.

"You don't, Robin. Hardly ever, and even then it's not like an actual happy smile. Nor is it sincere like this one." Jorien added in a bit more mildly, but no less amused. "It was nice to see what you look like when you truly enjoy yourself."

The heat crept up and along Robin's neck and onto her cheeks in an instant, while the churning of her stomach grew a bit too strong to merely indicate a timely desire for lunch. Bloody hell, she hadn't really thought about how the girls might perceive the situation… they did know her a lot better than any of the other students indeed, and that might very well lead to some unforeseen consequences. It already had, obviously. Damnit.

"Well, and so what? I did enjoy myself a lot while dancing, yes. I already told you during breakfast that he's the best partner I've ever had, so logically I do enjoy dancing with him. Otherwise I'd hardly have volunteered to help him with the lesson." She tried to shrug it off like she often did when she didn't want to talk about an issue. Playing things down, and distracting the opponents by giving small chunks of the truth on other areas. "He's my friend, of course I'd help him with the class. Especially when McGonagall just asked him to do it out of the blue last night."

"Oh, so he's your friend now, huh?" Cas grinned, and Jorien smacked her in the shoulder across the table, much to the blond girl's irritation. "What, I didn't say anything wrong! Before now, Robin always rather made a point of it that they're just working together."

"It's not supposed to become known that we're friends, alright? It might give people the wrong impressions, so keep your voices down, yes?" Robin gave both girls a pointed look, and they reluctantly nodded in agreement. "So, perhaps I did smile while dancing with him. I like him, and I like dancing with him. Is there an issue with that?"

"No!" Cas replied in an instant, with rising eyebrows and an apologetic expression. "Of course not, rather on the contrary!"

Robin gave her a questioning frown in return, but before she could make an attempt to ask just what she meant by that, Jorien jumped in.

"What Cas means is that it's nice to know that you two are close to each other." She said with a diplomatic expression, then however with a smirk at Robin. "And it certainly explains why the years of trying to get you to date someone were entirely wasted."

"I don't see how that correlates." Robin replied flatly, with a too perfect neutral facade to actually be indifferent, and both younger girls snorted in an instant.

"Oh come on!" Cas was back at grinning widely, but at least she kept her voice down like she'd been asked to. "You might be able to fool everyone else, but you can't tell us that you're not totally crushing on him!"

"Ballroom dancing is the most open expression of sexuality the past times had to offer, and you two are honestly the perfect example of it. Quite rude of you though, to lie when we asked you about your crushes on your birthday…" Jorien added in with a smirk and one raised eyebrow that reminded Robin too much of herself. "Because whatever this is between you and him, it's certainly been going on for a lot longer than that."

"I didn't lie." Robin defended herself quietly. She was slowly running out of ideas for how to get out of this situation without anyone taking too much damage in the process. "I never lie. You guys know that."

"I still don't believe you. You're extremely subtle about it, I'll give you that, but you definitely act differently around him than with anybody else I've ever seen you with." Cas stated it as a matter of fact that didn't leave any room for Robin to effectively protest while sticking to the truth. "I don't remotely understand why, and it really is quite weird to think about, but you are definitely attracted to him. Why don't you just admit to what we already know anyway?"

"I do not have a crush, okay?!" Robin's patience was wearing thinner and thinner the more students filed into the room who might overhear the conversation. It was bad enough that her roommates had caught onto matters; she didn't need the rest of the school to know as well. Least of all the person in discussion. "Just leave it be."

"I really don't know why you're being so defensive about it." Cas rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. "In an odd way it's really kinda cute. You and him, I mean. You're pretty similar to each other. The more I think about it, the more I ship it."

"I don't even want to know what that means, but will you please just shut up about it now?" Robin groaned under her breath and resisted the temptation to rest her face in her hands in despair. That would draw way too much unwanted attention to her now. "You're making a fool of yourself."

"To be honest, I also think you're a good match." Jorien shrugged, but her words were spoken in all honesty no less. "Definitely uncommon, but rather sweet indeed. I've always wondered who on earth might be able to keep up with you, but I guess I've been too blind to see the answer right in front of me."

"I cannot believe you two!" Robin scoffed in sincere discomfort now. Why on earth did they have to torture her like that, after already finding out a secret she'd been hiding perfectly well for over four bloody years?! "You really are being ridiculous, just listen to yourselves. What on earth would he want with me, huh? Remember who you are talking about; it's a miracle that he deems me bearable enough to be my friend in the first place."

"So you do admit to having a crush on him then?"

"Stop. It. Now." Robin hissed at Cas with a glare that made the girl squirm in her seat. "I do not have a crush on anyone, and if you little chits refuse to stop nagging me about it, you will have to find yourselves a new tutor who puts up with your nonsense."

Yes, lashing out at them wasn't really the fairest thing to do, Robin was well aware of that. But she was hurt and annoyed and honestly, they would have forgotten about it by dinnertime already anyway. She just couldn't take any more tinder to the stupid flame of hope that was just roaring back to life now, especially not after last night. She had to trample and suffocate it right in this instant, before she would burn herself and quite possibly drag some collateral right down into the depth of destruction with her. So yes, it was an overreaction to their usual teenage behaviour, but it was a necessary overreaction to keep at least part of her sanity intact.

"I understand." Jorien was the first to speak up for once, and the smile and ease on her face made way for seriousness. "I understand that we were wrong about assuming that you have a crush on him; he's only your best friend, and you don't crush on your best friend. After all, you told us that much on your birthday already, and you don't ever lie."

"Yes! Thank you!" Robin rolled her eyes at her own scoff, but somehow the girl's words only now sunk in when it was too late already.

"Huh… so that's why you never told us who your best friend was. I admit, it all makes an odd amount of sense now that the two pieces become one." Jorien said with a surprised little huff, but Robin only took notice of how her own body became dead weight with a start. Her thoughts were tumbling over each other in panic and confusion and the growing urge to run, while Cas merely frowned at her in confusion. The hall was too warm all of a sudden, and void of air to breathe.

"You tricked me." Robin's lips formed the words without her conscious intention. "If I wasn't quite so furious about it, I would be proud."

"Well, I just put the pieces together." Jorien replied with an almost triumphant half smile. "And it's not like you were ever going to tell us. But I just had to know."

"Of course you did." Robin's voice came out cold and sharp and still somewhat indifferent, for now the pain and anger were gone with a start. She just felt numb, and perhaps a little betrayed. No, actually a lot.

"So… what?" Cas frowned at both of them in confusion. "Who's who now? What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm sure Jorien will explain it to you. She's got it all figured out now, doesn't she…" Robin replied coldly and tried to get up from the bench at last, to get out of this situation even at the cost of her own lunch, but a surprisingly strong grip held her down. Damn her short legs, really… why on earth did a fifteen year old have to be taller than her?

"Don't go… please, I'm sorry." Jorien said, and at least she sounded sincerely apologetic as she removed her hand from Robin's arms. "I didn't mean to upset you. Really. I just… I had to know if I was right."

Something in Robin deflated at the girl's sad words and pale blue eyes, and she slumped back down in her seat with a sigh. Damn her own empathy… damn the parts of herself she kept seeing in her. She just wanted to be mad in peace, but with Jorien apologising and Cas entirely confused, she found that she could uphold neither the numbness nor the anger.

"Sometimes being right isn't as nice as it seems." Robin finally said, but she didn't look at Jorien even once while doing so. "I'd gladly be wrong sometimes just to spare people the pain of truth."

"I didn't consider that."

"I know. Try to think about the reasons people keep things to themselves the next time you figure out their personal matters." She sighed, and while Jorien nodded, Robin turned to Cas. "And you… perhaps it'll help you to know that I only have and ever had one friend who isn't currently a student here."

"I still don't get it." Cas frowned with a rather helpless expression, and while Robin just sighed in defeat again, Jorien climbed over the still empty table in sheer annoyance, then grabbed her friend by the tie and aggressively whispered something in her ear that made her eyes go wide. So much for secrets, really… at least she was hissing quietly.

"So…" Cas started, with a weary and yet astonished expression, while Jorien climbed back over the table into her own seat. "You didn't lie after all. You really don't just have a crush on him…"

"I'm not saying a single word more on the matter." Robin shut her straight back down and finally got a grip on her emotions, forcing them all into submission and behind the neutrality. It didn't actually matter that they knew; they had kept quiet about her secrets before, and they would do it again now. They knew better than to mess with her, didn't they?

"You don't have to say anything." Jorien replied with a sigh, as she flopped back down in her seat. "But I think you're wrong if you think that he doesn't feel the same way about you. If he knows it or not."

"Yeah, just take the way he looks at you…" Cas added, while Robin kept on pretending to ignore both of them. "Like you're the answer to the universe's greatest questions nobody but him yet dared to ask."

"Cas! That's an oddly fitting description for the complexity of the issue, I'm thoroughly impressed!" Jorien smiled at her friend with an incredulous frown; obviously Robin wasn't the only one surprised by Cas' sudden string of poetic wisdom.

"Oh, those are Simon's words actually." Cas shrugged easily. "He's said a few times how S-... someone always looks at Robin like that, but I always dismissed it as him trying to be funny. Well, until I saw it for myself today. And he is SO right about it, he'll love that."

"You are not telling Simon about any of this." Robin snapped before she could help it. Damn her fast mouth, honestly, but this was not going anywhere else from here!

"But-..."

"No."

"He's-..."

"No."

"Fine." Cas rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, then leaned forward onto her arms that she had crossed on the tabletop. "But honestly Robin, you spend every day and night with him, he lets you use his classroom and his lab and he willingly goes on all those weird excursions with you… I doubt that there's anything he wouldn't do for you, now that I think about it."

"You probably have him all wrapped around your finger. You're just too oblivious or too deep in denial to see it." Jorien added with a smirk a mere second later, and Cas nodded in agreement.

"I wish to extend my previous statement: neither of us is losing another word about this from now on!" Robin stated, then motioned towards the entrance. "The boys are finally moving their lazy arses over here, and I officially declare the previous topic to be over and done with for now and the future."

"Fine. For now." Jorien shrugged, then gave Robin another pointed look. "But remember our words, at least: There is literally nothing that man wouldn't do for you, and we all know there is only one reason for that. You don't have to believe us, but at least give the reality around you a chance before burying yourself in all those delusions you hide behind. You aren't the type to let fear control your life, so open your eyes for God's sake!"

Robin glowered at Jorien until Cas kicked her under the table, giving both of them an overly cheerful but obviously feigned smile, which made Robin redirect her scowl indeed. Jorien however just snorted at Cas' expression, then Cas started chuckling as well, and finally Robin couldn't help the smile tugging at her lips either. They were horrible, really, a bunch of bloody dunderheads, but they also were annoyingly supportive sometimes. False hope they were giving her or not, it at least made Robin happy that her friends were trying to help her. And if they were so easily accepting of the subject of her affections, even if he wasn't technically someone they liked much, they really must care about her wellbeing and happiness quite a bit to still push her in that direction. That thought, the fact that they actually cared, was a good enough outcome of the conversation; the rest would do well to stay buried in the shadows where it belonged. Delusions or not.

"Ladies…" Gideon greeted them with a large grin as he sat down on the bench next to Cas, making it quiver even as Simon took a seat on the girl's other side. "Good noon to you all."

"Your good mood is disgusting." Michael grumbled as he took on his usual perch next to Jorien, who greeted him with a mere nod. She still managed to politely maneuver around any and every of his advances without a word, and by now he had mostly given up on it and moved on to try for a casual friendship like he had with everyone else instead. Didn't change the fact that Michael looked positively pissed at Gideon, and glared at him from across the table now. "He's already finished his bloody charms essay and keeps rubbing it in our faces."

"Prideful, are we? How terribly Slytherin of you, especially for a Ravenclaw." Robin smirked at Gideon, and the remainder of the group chuckled in agreement. Yeah, they really were a big bunch of dunderheads. But sometimes, in little moments like this, Robin found that she didn't actually mind being one of them.

______________________________

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[coreastories]

Lady Noh’s Tea

Part 2 of Little Bean

Noh Ok-nam knew her duty. But she was almost done. She felt at peace. This young lady would never disappoint her. She was strong. Even her fears were the right fears. She was already a wonderful wife and queen. She going to be a wonderful mother.

Even better with:

Three Hours For Chicken

Seo-Ryeong vs Lady Noh

Days and Nights of Forever

Part 5 The Thirteenth Rule

Part 6 The Queen's Horse

And this chapter follows Part 7, The Towelette

On AO3 for kudos and download 

Noh Ok-nam was a firm believer in tradition. It was how she made her days useful all her life, what gave her solid ground beneath her feet, and where she could find peace whenever it occurred to her that she might have cheated her destiny. 

She rose in the ranks to head court lady in due time, but still too late to be of any use, and tradition and custom was what saved her from lashing out or interfering every time she saw the malice and evil in that illegitimate boy, Lee Lim. 

She was thankful for the friendship of Prince Buyeong, and between them, they had guarded the precious little king and made sure he truly survived everything that happened. She had loved Lee Ho, had seen him grow from infant to king and father. He had raised Lee Gon as well as he could, even after his heartbreak of losing his wife. 

And now Noh Ok-nam stood poised to see another generation of this royal family she had spent all her life serving and protecting. 

She hadn’t escaped her destiny, after all. This was her destiny. To be mother and grandmother and great grandmother to this new young family, one of whom was also from the world Noh Ok-nam had left behind. 

The very same young woman now having tea with Ok-nam. It was their little tradition. Whenever their schedules allowed, they had tea in Ok-nam’s room. They talked about whatever came to mind. 

Sometimes it was the king. Sometimes it was Korea. And sometimes it was just about the two of them, two women in a different country than the one they knew before.

“Sometimes I wake up in the night terrified that I’ll be sent back,” the queen said. 

Ok-nam was astonished but she only nodded. She knew of those terrors. “Drink your tea, Your Majesty.” 

“What’s in this?”

“Ginger. Lemon. Honey. It’s good for you.” 

“It’s a little strong.” Ok-nam nodded. Maybe it was too late in the day now to serve this tea, when the queen was no longer feeling queasy. She poured a fragrant and mild lemon balm white tea instead. “Does His Majesty wake up when you have those nightmares?”

The queen shook her head as she dipped her head in thanks for the new cup. “I don’t make any noise. I just suddenly come awake and my chest feels like I chased a perp down ten blocks. Did you ever feel like this?”

“Oh yes. In my first few months here. And now and then throughout my first decade. That was usually when I just got up and started work. They all thought I was hardworking but I was just escaping those thoughts of… displacement.” 

The queen smiled. “I usually just hug Gon and I’m all right.”

Ok-nam smiled. “That’s good. That’s right. He’s the reason you’re here. Trust that.” 

The queen tucked her chin in that beautiful way Ok-nam found so charming, and she was quiet for several moments, staring at her teacup. 

When she looked up, she had a hesitant expression on her face. Ok-nam held her breath. Was the queen finally telling her the sweet secret? 

The queen took a deep breath and said, “Gon and I are going to the doctor today. And then I want to talk to you immediately after-- after we tell you--” 

Someone clapped once, and Ok-nam was horrified to realize it was her. She unclasped her hands and held them out to the queen, this young woman who had come in their lives so suddenly yet so irrevocably. Ok-nam smiled when the queen gave her hands to her. Ok-nam squeezed them. 

“I’ll see you as soon as you arrive. Stop looking like you’re facing something dreadful. You are brave. You are the queen. This is your place now, and no one and nothing can take you away.” 

When Ok-nam saw tears glimmer in those eyes, she knew she’d said what the queen needed to hear. Ok-nam never had a family while she was here. She had served this family instead, and she supposed her sense of duty filled her days and gave her peace at night. 

But what would she have felt if she had planted roots here, roots that she would be terrified of being wrenched from under her? 

That was what the queen faced now, what the queen had faced the moment she agreed to marry the king. 

No wonder the poor child woke up from it in the night. 

Ok-nam only had residual terror at the thought of having to go back to that terrible world she left behind. 

But the queen had real terror at the thought of leaving this world because she belonged to another, especially now when she was planting roots, roots that were about to become even more precious. 

This realization made Ok-nam drink the queen’s abandoned tea herself. The ginger felt good. Very bracing. And then even as she planned what to say to the queen, her mouth was already pulling up into a huge smile. 

It was wonderful! 

Those talismans worked so well. 

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

Ok-nam was pacing around the king and queen’s study when they finally arrived. They were holding hands, and the queen had to look ruefully at the king when he still wouldn’t let go so she could remove her light coat. 

Ok-nam smiled and went over to help. The king turned to her with a beaming smile. 

“Have we got news for you.” 

“Oh, just tell me! I already know anyway.”

The king grinned. “Tae-Eul is pregnant.”

Ok-nam smiled wider, at the wonderful news, at the culmination of her hopes, and at how proud and gleeful the king sounded. “How far along now?”

The king led the queen to a chair while he answered. “Six weeks. We first found out four weeks ago and we confirmed it with Dr Chae two weeks ago, but we wanted to keep it to ourselves for a bit. Everything’s good. She has a touch of anemia. That’s why she feels cold sometimes. She just needs to eat more red meat and eggs and green vegetables. I’ll take care of it. I want more fresh edamame and spinach in my kitchen. Collard greens. Sweet potatoes. Anything dark green. And I’ll ask Noona how often you can eat liver without negative side effects. Do you even like liver? Maybe you can get your vitamin A from cod liver oil instead. Why aren’t you talking? Are you feeling alright?”

Tae-Eul just stared at him and then exchanged a wry look with Ok-nam, who found herself giggling. Giggling! 

The happy news had caught up with her, and she was giddy and delighted. Both the king and queen watched her as she laughed. She shook her head at them fondly as she finished. She sighed. She was happy. 

“Calm down, Pyeha. I’ll take care of the kitchen supplies. And you, Mama, we’ll take care of you.” She went to the queen and boldly took the young woman’s hands without asking first. Hands that were a little cold again. 

“You have made us so happy. May the heavens bless you and this child with a thousand blessings.” 

The queen bowed to that formal blessing, exchanging a smile with the king behind Ok-nam. Ok-nam felt her heart grow warm when she felt the king’s arm around her shoulder. 

Then the queen said, “I need to talk to Lady Noh for a second. Can you excuse us?” 

The king hesitated only for a second, then Ok-nam felt him kiss her temple, and then the king went to his wife and did the same to her. “I’ll be back with a snack. Anything you have in mind?” 

“Fried chicken. Can you do that?”

The king looked a little dubious. “I’ll see what I can do.” 

When the king was gone, the queen sighed. She was still holding Ok-nam’s hands like a lifeline, and now she squeezed them. 

“What is it, Your Majesty?” Ok-nam asked. 

“Oh, I hope he pulls it off. Maybe he can find a recipe online. He can just order it, of course, but I don’t like any of the chicken places here.” Ok-nam blinked. “I mean, what is troubling you, Your Majesty? You said you were going to talk to me as soon as you returned.” 

The queen blinked back. “Oh. Oh yes.” And then she spoke in a rush as if the words had been going over and over in her mind and it was a relief to let them out. 

“This is all right, isn’t it? You’ve lived here for decades and you were fine. Seo-gyeong is in New Zealand and she’s fine. I can have a baby, right? Nothing bad will happen to this baby because his or her mom isn’t supposed to be here? I’m already anemic. I’ve never been anemic before. What if I’m not supposed to do this? We know the worlds weren’t supposed to intersect, and Gon and I have already dared so much, but then he deserves to be happy after everything he’s done, and I’m not going to leave him. But what if we were too selfish? When I married him I already knew I wanted a family with him-- but-- but--”

Ok-nam let go of the queen’s hands so the queen could wipe the tears that had escaped down her cheeks. When she was done, Ok-nam took her hands again. “Your Majesty. Tae-Eul-ah. Look at me.” Standing as she was, and with her height decreasing with her increasing age, she was eye to eye with the seated queen. Ok-nam loved those eyes. They were so open, and this meant the queen was open to everything, including fear. 

“Your Majesty, mild anemia is very common in pregnancy. It’s because all your blood is growing this new soul. I’m sure Dr Chae told you that. If you forget anything your doctor says, call her. Ask her.” 

She squeezed the queen’s hands. “We won’t announce the pregnancy until it’s at twelve weeks. That’s tradition and custom. It’s to make sure we don’t insult any deities with lack of respect at their power during the first twelve weeks. You’ll be fine. We’ll take very good care of you.” 

Ok-nam already had the right talismans in mind, and she would call the shaman as soon as she was done assuring her queen. 

“You belong here. You are supposed to be here. You are the queen of the Kingdom of Corea. You are the mother of the next kings of Corea. After I first saw you, do you know what I dreamed about that night? A crescent moon. A crescent moon turning into a brilliant, blinding sun. It was such a clear dream and it kept returning to me for several nights, and it was what I dreamed of on the night of your wedding-- What is it? Why do you look like that?”

The queen was staring at Ok-nam with her mouth agape. She closed her mouth. She looked a little pale. “I dreamed of a crescent moon too, just before I came here-- and it did turn into a sun. I thought it was night turning into day, which was just how I felt because I would no longer have to leave Gon.”

Ok-nam smiled and moved her hands to the queen’s cheeks, half in fondness and half in an attempt to bring color to those cheeks. 

“Do you know what it means? The shaman told me that it means new beginnings. The crescent moon is either waning or waxing-- it means change. It means dreams turning into reality. And if it turns into the sun, it means glory and power. Someone achieving their destiny or dream. 

“Does it feel like that for you? It does for me. Because with your coming and with you becoming queen, it certainly seems like I’ve fulfilled my destiny of taking care of the king. My work is done and he is no longer alone. You will care for him next. And that means you belong here. You are the queen. This is your place, and becoming a mother is one of the sweetest parts of it. Do you understand?” 

The queen was gently crying now, but Ok-nam wasn’t worried. She heard relief and joy in those soft sobs. 

Ok-nam wiped the tears and did something she had only dared twice before: once when eight-year-old Gon was asleep absolutely exhausted from grief, and once when twenty-two-year-old Gon was asleep and about to leave for the Navy the next day. 

She kissed the queen’s cheek. 

The queen smiled tremulously and also kissed her on the cheek. Ok-nam smiled. She felt at peace. This young lady would never disappoint her. She was strong. Even her fears were the right fears. She was already a wonderful wife and queen. She was going to be a wonderful mother. 

“What did you do to her?” 

Ok-nam startled a little when the king came striding over, abandoning a trolley at the open door. He was looking incredulously between the two of them, and he went straight to the queen. “Why are you crying?” 

“I’ll tell you later. Do you have my fried chicken already?”  

“It’s coming. I brought Lady Noh’s tea first and some sweets. Do you want some while we wait for the chicken?”

“If you had them order the fried chicken, where did you order? Because I only like the one in Seoul here.” 

“It’s the same chicken in the branches in Busan.”

“No, it’s not. I told you--”

Ok-nam poured the tea and then left them alone. The king already had that look on his face that said he needed to be alone with his queen and everyone else had better scram or just face what they witnessed. 

Ok-nam made a mental note to ask about that chicken the queen liked from Seoul. 

But first, the shaman. 

[veinwalk]

RIAIN DRABBLE: THE NORM

WARNING FOR: Blood, Gore, Torture, Drugs, Adult Themes

 The nightlife, the noisy compound that was a part of this city BUSTLING with life and sound that drowned out the ability to think. But in a club, thinking was the last thing people did. No one paid mind to what happened around them, the people they were chatting with, the wolves among the cattle. No, they were too busy with the next drink, the next body to flirt with, a chance for a one-night stand in another dirty hotel room or old car. It was, in a sense, the best place for the criminals and scum to come to mingle, for deals to go down and plans to be lost within the mindless chatter of another round of songs and people trying to yell above those. No wonder the newest target of interest to the self-titled GOD had chosen this place.

                        ’ WHERE THEY COULD TAKE ADVANTAGE, HE COULD TOO

      Frame rested rather lax with arms crossed over the top bar of the catwalk, blue eyes pinpointing the group of gang members- another budding group, trying to make some type of NAME in the city of ██████ . In reality, nothing more organized than MOST groups of criminals in this city. A bunch of gun wielding drug dealers, making their money off of selling dry-wall packed drugs and cheating their customers for more then what they get. They were HARDLY recognizable, and otherwise would be of no interest to him. More people in the background, meaning nothing to his goals. What WAS of interest was things they had a hold of- the bag loosely pushed under the table, its content SUPPOSEDLY holding a rare batch of chemicals. Now it was just in a poor game of torch passing, probably sold to them under an IGNORANT idea it was useful for another batch of cooking, realizing that was wrong, and trying to sell it off again. The Kingpin, currently, was watching over the deal- his own gang member working as the mouth.

     Earpiece buzzed with the information and conversation gotten, the higher quality of the piece muting a good amount of the background noise.           ❝ keep chatting him up. make sure you get him to open the package, don’t just take it. move it up so i can see it when you do.❞         Calm voice spoke directly to his middleman into the ear piece, watching. His position on the upper floor was beneficial- off to the side, a good view but not making him SUSPICIOUS. Just another more relax frame. Any talking he did could easily be masked by his other crew members with him, another mouth moving to chat with some ‘friends’. Everything seemed so NORMAL, nothing standing out. 

       Minutes stacked onto each other, fingers starting to tap in IMPATIENCE in spite of themselves. However, beyond that, he did nothing to make it evident that he was.

       FINALLY. Eyes followed as the bag was moved up, the black cloth moving and settling as it was placed upon the table, catching as the voice in the piece did exactly what was asked and demanded the package was opened. In it rest a clear container filled with an incredibly light yellow liquid. As the other moved the container, he gave a distant visual examination of it.            ❝ put the money on the table, and take the package. meet out back.❞           He spoke as he turned, a nod given to the other members near him. Hand moved up to the ear-piece, pulling it out and putting it into his pocket.

                                                                            ’ A MUTTERED GUNSHOT

      And another, and another. He didn’t need to see the nods back from his crew members, or them drawing their guns from their holders to know his UNSPOKEN COMMAND had gotten across. Screams and yells were delayed, movement like a wave- when his steps brought him to the stairs and eyes were back towards THE SPOT OF INTEREST, it was noted that those nearer freaked out first, the domino effect taking place. Some people hadn’t seemed to notice, music of more focus and proximity not close enough, for the fresh dead in a bloodied booth to be of interest. Then, there was movement TOWARDS the scene- his workers moving to keep the one intentionally living man of the gang from leaving. The dealers. Others focused on the door, blocking the exits, or disabling internal phones. The lack of signal service did a hand on that. Cameras already disabled earlier, eyes watching to make sure no pictures were taken. There was some time to buy.

     Riain moved over to his speaker, who had been unaware of just how things were TRULY expected to go- intentionally kept in the dark. He didn’t need someone anxious of the gunfire that was BOUND to happen. He grabbed the bag from him, taking it back over to the table and sitting in the same spot he had been- the only spot untainted by blood. The carrier and the content inside were placed haphazardly where they had been before, hands placed over each other in a manner of professionalism. Sharp blue hues stared at the other, the smile worn seemed like an ATTEMPT at something friendly but it was just wrong.           ❝ now, onto real business❞

       Words, comments, rushed out remarks that  ❛I gave what the other guy what he paid for! ’  with an expected mix of vulgarity. The brunette stopped him.            ❝ i didn’t pay for dyed water with-❞         Top had peeled off , catching a smell from it.            ❝ coriander and lemon juice? i give you credit for at least attempting to give a similar smell, but effort gets you no where. especially poor ones❞         Container placed down, with some effort to not spill the contents despite it being of no use to him. Or at least, as was.           ❝ now where’s the real one?❞  

         An eye roll was given as more excuses were given, poor insults of him being a dumb ass and this was the real thing, he  ❛ didn’t know shit ’ . The Kingpin moved from his seat, standing up and leaning over the table and getting in front of the other.               ❝ well, let me just test it then.❞         Before words could be given towards this, hand reached behind the other’s head and forced the others face to meet the liquid, the large jar-like container working in his favor as it covered up mouth and nose. Force was exerted to make sure the air pocket between the liquid and the top of the container couldn’t be reached, the tension evidently testing the skin pressed against the lip of the container. The two to the dealers side grabbed him to stop squirming, the bubbles being notable from the liquid as the other tried to breathe. OBVIOUSLY, someone wasn’t used to torture. Should’ve held breathe. He gave him 40 seconds, before releasing him and settling back himself.                ❝ want to claim i don’t know what i know again? if you want, when i get the real stuff i can demonstrate just how it really should have acted on your skin. trust me, it will give you more then red eyes and a hard time breathin’.❞       Eyes remained steeled on the dark-haired man, watching the color return to his face and making the red ring around his lower face start to dissipate just slightly- other then the areas were it seemed some under-skin bleeding had started due to the pressure. The ‘fuck you’ he got didn’t draw much from the criminal, what did gain more response was more excuses. Apparently this man did not learn. He looked at the man on his right, nodding to repeat what he just did. As he did, a gun on the table was grabbed by the king and the butt of the gun was knocked against the jar, causing it to shatter and face to hit against the pieces.                 ❝ factor number 2- you wouldn’t put that chemical into a weak glass like this.❞

           Every great teacher could get to the worst of students, when the man picked himself up again, blood rushing down his face from in between glass shards and mixing with the blood spilled from the corpses around them, the fear, the signs before the words the other was starting to crumble and would ‘beg for their life’ were there. And low-and-behold, the whimpered ‘pleases’ and ‘alrights’ came forth, spilling the fact that it was in a car parked in the back lot.                 ❝ let’s escort you back there then.❞         The words were less towards the victim and more towards his own men to grab him, which they did. The Director moved away from the table, feet carrying him towards the back door with ease- most of the people inside cowering to the sides or attempting to find other doors by this point. The gun equipped woman peeled away from in front of it as he came, following after as he opened it as did the others with the gang leader. He demanded the other show him which vehicle was his and give him the keys, and when that went through he gave the keys to the gang member and made it clear she was to start driving once they were in. The back of the Van was opened and the man was tossed in, with one the men sitting down in the back too and the other joining another in the back seat. Riain took his place in the back of the van with their hostage, closing the door as the engine purred to life. 

        ❝ so where is the stuff?❞         His voice was more calm, almost like asking a normal question about the time or the weather, but it held that undertone stemmed from what had happened before- don’t try to play me anymore.  When the other spoke as he pointed to a box locked against the back, pressed off to the corner, his workhorse reached for it and grabbed the other bag out of it. Grabbing the container when it was released, azure eyes looked it over, gently handling it with his leather gloves.        ❝ now this is lookin’ right.❞      There was a purr of pleasure to his voice as that was said, greeted only with ‘so you got what you want- let me go,’ only to be greeted with an expression that very much spoke that wasn’t going to happen.           ❝ i’ve got to test it first.❞

          Protests rang out, but it didn’t stop him as he took out the graduate pipette from the bag that had been brought- from the very beginning, he had expect the betrayal. He had planned in advance, as was evident. He withdrew some of the chemicals, not even enough to promote a visible difference in the quantity of the container, as forcefully grabbed the struggling mans arm with the aid of the other in the back. He released the chemical onto the open skin, watching it have an almost instant effect that mimicked narcotizing. It was allowed to sit for a second as the other yelled at the stinging sensation, before a medical swab was taken to it to wipe off the remaining droplet, making sure he didn’t come in contact with it himself.           ❝ there we go- that’s how it’s supposed to be.❞        More vulgarity, this time mixed with threats of his death and blah blah blah. It wasn’t the first time he had heard it, it certainly won’t be the last.           ❝ this stuff is considered government level-secret- so who sold it to you? and who sold it to them. i need to know where this stuff got lost in the trade of ignorance.❞         Riain shifted his position, ready for more lies and bullshitting and having to work more on the other to make him talk. And it started just as expected- the other not dropping the threats, refusing the easy way. He moved the chemical to the side, settling it back in the bag to keep it safe, and grabbing for a pair of pliers with one hand and his knife in the other. No use in wasting what he just got, so he’d work with what was around. He forced the others hand onto the elevated metal that was what substituted for seats, locking it in place with his knife jammed in between the palm. A yell erupted in the back, seconds waited for it to die down before words were spoken again.           ❝ for every bullshit you give me, you lose another nail. now, where did you get this?❞          First nail, cussing and threats. Second nail, begging for him to stop. Third nail, more begging with muttered words of he didn’t know. Fourth nail, some skin went with this one, tears mixing with his ability to talk and more begging for him to please stop. Fifth nail, the pliers were slammed down and the nail was rather dragged off, some of the Directors annoyance starting to ring through this action. The bone was broken. More yelling, more lying that he didn’t know. The annoyance continued with him violently retracting the knife from within the others skin, tearing a bit more as he pulled it out across rather then straight up. Grip was adjusted on it, pointing it directly towards the others face.           ❝keep this up, and by the time the medical examiners get to you they won’t be able to recognize a body out of the mush.❞           Out of the side of his eye, he saw his gang member shuffle a bit, some discomfort evident. It wasn’t atypical. Riain wasn’t usually the one to be forefront about getting his hands dirty when it didn’t concern his shows- with tasks he considered ‘underling work’, but when he did he made sure it wasn’t pretty. He wasn’t a bluffer. 

                                ’IT HAD BEEN LEARN HE KEPT TRUE ON HIS THREATS

            The dealer started to whimper out again he really didn’t know, but that was killed off as Riain shifted again, the knife moving slightly to the side and other hand grabbing for the chemical again. Those words swearing he didn’t know were instead turned to ‘wait wait wait!’ Hand withdrew slightly, resting on his knees and knife laxing. Harsh blue eyes met the others, watching the tears mix with the blood still wet coming from the glass, the moisture not allowing it to dry. ‘his name is kevin! he’s some type of informant, dealer type g-guy. apparently isn’t from here but comes here for deals! he sold me the stuff, saying it was some new potent shit that goes into some high quality crystal and can be charged a ton for. said it was chinese or russian or some shit! just- please let me go! i have a wife!’   Wife. Many who used that were lying. Not like it mattered either way, but it was a pathetic bluff. Almost as bad as saying he had kids.            ❝kevin who? where does he frequent? i need more than that. that isn’t going to buy you your freedom.❞        Cruelty between calmer words and frame again, obviously not quite pleased yet. A last name was given, and a list of some locations that seemed guessed at best. The knife was placed to the side again, hands settled near his side.            ❝alright.❞         A simple word, it seemed to drag some peace from the other until another grin reached The Director’s face, and the gun he had on him was grabbed out. Frantic words left the other, all of which were tossed away.              ❝thank you for your business.❞  

                                                                 ’ A BANG, A SHORT LIVED SCREAM, AND BLOOD

            As the sound died, the blood droplets settling, hitting himself and the other living man in the back, his frame settled slightly. For a second, before, hands routed through the pockets of the corpse, retrieving the phone and pocketing it. He could look through contacts and history later, tracking down calls and making his own leads if lies had been made.

           The next day, the news would be buzzing with a murder at a club in the middle of the night, the occupants being held hostage, and the criminals being gone by the time police arrived. There would be a burnt van, with the smoldered remains of a corpses with glass shards in their face and a hand that was completely messed up beyond repair. And there would be a man at work, the new face of some company, doing his job and running his business. No mind to the stolen phone connected to a laptop digging up information in the background, or a dangerous illegal chemical hiding within his desk. But that was just another day.  A man that should be more worried that his face might be found, the truth be released, but in a town like this? This was normal. This was business. Whether it be the lower level gangs, a infamous crew destroying the city in the daylight, another batch of people to get the blame perhaps, or just the newest criminal stepping out of the dark, it was normal.

                                     ’ IT WAS BUSINESS, AND BUSINESS WAS GOOD

[thejustmaiden]

The Sesshomaru F*cks Debacle

Hey, fellow Inuyasha fans! How we feeling?? I imagine a lot of us are doing quite fabulously after the recent news we got about the sequel coming out this Fall, "Hanyou No Yashahime." So if it wasn't obvious already, I want to take the time to discuss the topic of- you guessed it- Sesshomaru. Go figure! 

***THIS IS A REPOST OF MY ORIGINAL BLOG THAT DISAPPEARED FROM THE TAGS. PICS/GIFS HAVE BEEN REMOVED TO HOPEFULLY REPAIR THAT.***

Let's be real, as much as probably (and literally lol) all of us have viewed him as "daddy material" at some point or another during our teens, Sesshomaru being physically intimate with another being, much less a human, is difficult to conjure up in our minds. And there's nothing wrong with that, per se, as sex and romance doesn't come so easily to some as it does to others. Then again, that's not to say a romantic relationship is completely impossible or unattainable for him either. 

I, for one, am not a huge fan of the idea of Sesshomaru siring children of his own. Granted, adopting/protecting children and other small companions is kinda his thing (I saw one user even describe him as a 'walking daycare' 🤣), and maybe it'll just take some getting used to, but all in all it's not entirely unfathomable to picture him having biological children. Though I'd be lying if I said I still didn't prefer he just took these two twin half-demon girls in and under his wing instead, like he did Rin. However, seeing as that's unlikely the case since the two girls resemble him in some fashion, the chances of that coming true are slim, which must mean that Sesshomaru did in fact bone some lucky lady. That's not to say I don't acknowledge that there's still a chance these kids aren't truly his but we'll see! 

Which leads me to the real reason behind this blog! I'd like to address in-depth why I and so many other Inuyasha fans consider shipping S*ssrin as wrong and why it makes a lot of us extremely uncomfortable. 

BUT FIRST BEFORE I FORGET, I want to give a little unofficial disclaimer by stating that this blog isn't intended to upset certain fans regarding my stance on the controversial ship. Thus I will not tag it under that ship name, and I suggest others who agree with me to do the same in any of their future posts. 

Because let's not forget that the most important thing is that we're all fans here. We fell in love with this story and hold its beloved characters close to our hearts for a reason. And that still counts even if you're returning to this fandom a decade later. So please, let's try and remember that and be civil towards one another. Putting people down by attacking and insulting others in real life really doesn't make us any better than them. I REPEAT, please do not engage in this post unless you plan to be kind and respectful of others who may have a differing opinion than you. There's never a need to be ugly towards another human being. That goes for all shippers and fans of Sesshomaru in general. Thank you in advance for your understanding and compliance. 😊

Again, none of these comments are aimed at being inflammatory towards those fans who have a different approach to this pairing. If any of you are reading this now, please keep that in mind before deciding to participate in any discourse with me and other antis. 

Okay, let me go ahead and list a few of the main arguments fans of this particular ship use to support them together. Then I'll give my reasons why those aren't enough to justify their relationship turning romantic:

1. Rin will be an adult before they get romantically involved

2. Sesshomaru didn't raise her and therefore isn't her father; he was never like a father to her in the first place

3. Sesshomaru hasn't been grooming her, not then and not now. Besides, it was Rin's choice first.

4. Age difference shouldn't matter when you look at other relationships in the series (InuKag, Koga x Ayame, etc.)

5. It was always going to be canon because the drama CDs exist

 These are the main points I'm seeing around. Now let's dissect them, shall we? These are my direct responses- I'll try to keep them short and concise. Fyi: Jk! I'm lying, that never happens. 😆

1. Rin may be an adult, but from our standpoint that doesn't make much of a difference. It doesn't matter because it's all about how her relationship with Sesshomaru started off and how it continued onwards. From that moment, it was basically established from the get-go that their relationship resembles that of one a young girl shares with an older man who winds up becoming her guardian. She initiated it by trying to bring him food while he was injured, and he reciprocated by deciding to bring her back to life that fateful day. 

Of course we're all happy that he did, because he's a better demon for it and a similar thing could be said about her! Therefore you must understand that fans against this pairing find it very hard to grasp the notion of a budding romance here when we look at their history. For us, it's synonymous to imagining a father eventually falling in love with his daughter or someone else who reminds him of a daughter, and vice versa. But let's just say he's not a father to her like many of you claim and more like, say a modern-day babysitter. Isn't it still bizarre to you that a young girl could fall in love with the man who looked after her and cared for her at that age, maybe even played games with? One day or on multiple occasions he even sees her naked because she had an accident and got hurt so she needed help changing or something. I admit it's more realistic that it was Jaken if anyone who'd be in charge of this, but why does it really matter who was tasked with what? Sesshomaru may have not been around all the time but that doesn't mean he's any less involved or invested in Rin's general care and well-being. So it's that thought alone that keeps many of us from even contemplating a romance forming between them. Whether he hardly interacted with her over the years or not is irrelevant, because it's clear to me that they have both formed a strong enough bond that constitutes calling them family. I highly doubt he ever even planned to keep Rin in his company as long as he did. But it happened, and whether you want to admit it or not, meeting her changed his life. Meaning Rin was never just some girl he traveled with or hardly knew. Despite his feigned indifference and stoic ways at times, I'm pretty sure we can all agree that Rin grew on him and was the first person to really influence him in a way that helped soften and open up that heart of his in a way nobody ever had before. One's significance to any given person isn't solely measured by the quantity of time spent alongside that person but by the quality of how that time was spent with said person. It's safe to say that in the case of Sesshomaru and Rin, they definitely fall under that category. 

2. Fair if you don't view Sesshomaru as Rin's father, but you must acknowledge that he did fill some father figure-like role to her at the very least. Or let's just call him her vassal if you think that's a more accurate description. Also, can I just quickly stress again that it doesn't matter how long she spent by his side or whether she spent more time in the village or not, because he still ended up playing a major part in her childhood as an adult male role model. Regardless of the title you give him, it still stands that although he may not be her official adoptive father, he is LIKE A FATHER. There really is no point in denying that, because their dynamic exudes one of a father-daughter. I guarantee you that any outsider looking in would agree that if not her father then at the very least he embodies a male relative of some kind. Honestly, the details of their relationship dynamic specific to this show (regional/period differences, human vs. demon culture, etc.), don't really matter here. Why? Because one can assume that the general consensus here is that a large percentage of fans perceive their connection as a familial one. Yes, most would unanimously agree that Rin and Sesshomaru, along with Jaken and Ah-Un, are a FAMILY. 

If she had first met him as an adult, then we'd possibly have a very different story here. The point of the matter is that he didn't, so that should be where this discussion ends. Unfortunately, for many, it's not. The bottom line is that a child he knew and cared for should never be someone he begins to view in a romantic light. I don't care how many years have passed (or that to demons years are like days or some less inconsequential length of time), and how much she's matured or how specific marriage customs were back then (if they're no longer appropriate now then why are we still condoning these backward practices?). Rin should NEVER have the desire to be sexually attracted to this father figure she's always looked to and trusted to protect her. Maybe it's vastly different from a demon's perspective (even though still unjustifiable in my opinion), but as a human, Rin's feelings towards Sesshomaru wouldn't and shouldn't suddenly change towards him and in such a drastic manner mind you. Yeah, maybe she used to have an innocent crush on him, but I'd like to think our smart and compassionate little Rin would learn that was simply because she was a child who didn't know any better. Besides, growing up with Kaede and around other humans I'd like to think she fell in love with another human sometime over the course of all those years. It only makes sense, right? Don't you think that's part of why Sesshomaru left her there in the first place? He wished for her to experience what it was like to live a normal human life, falling in love and marriage both being a key part of that. If I were Sesshomaru, I'd be deeply troubled if I started to develop feelings for a little girl I once protected and kept in my company for quite an extended period of time, which was at least a year from what I understand. (Pls correct me if I'm wrong because I gather it may have been longer.) 

3. Apparently in the manga and the Final Act, we see Sesshomaru still visits the village to check on Rin from time to time. He even brings her gifts, such as beautiful and luxurious kimonos. I recently learned from another Tumblr post that kimonos are what older men gift in order to sort of earn their favor with these young ladies, AKA they're wooing them. If that is indeed true, then that would mean he's basically grooming her and has been for however long she's lived there in the village but potentially even longer. To put it nicely, he's courting her. If this was another young lady (maybe not an adult perhaps but still of marrying age) who he DIDN'T assist in raising, then I could possibly get on board with this.

The thing is, it's far from that with them two if you consider everything they've gone through and endured together! Because he not only met her as a young girl but he got to know her first as a young girl, and she became one of his traveling companions all while she was only a young girl!!! Their bond will always be defined by that time when she was just a young girl, and nothing can or should change that he will always see her in that same light. Kinda like how our parents or other family members from older generations tell us that they'll always see us as their babies. So the fact that her time spent with Sesshomaru is constantly compared to her time spent in the village shouldn't apply here. Don't we all know this already? That we can can come across someone in our lifetime and maybe the time with them is short-lived, but that doesn't make it any less significant or those people any less special. Sesshomaru made an impact on her as much as she did on him, that much we know is true. Sure, it was years ago, but that's not something you ever forget. Sometimes when you look at loved ones you haven't seen in a while, there are just certain memories you have of them from over the years that will come rushing back to you without fail and that you will always cherish no matter what. I'd like to believe that when Rin looks at Sesshomaru and he looks at her, that they can both look back fondly on their times traveling together. This explains why I'm really struggling here to picture how anyone could sleep with someone they used to treat as their guardian/father/ward/daughter/what have you. So someday and somehow, this person just stops viewing them that way, is that it? I mean, how does this work exactly? It's not like you can just flip off a switch and forget everything from your past with this person, ya know? Unless you have your memory wiped, what I'm understanding is that S*ssrin shippers approve of the idea of these two characters KNOWING that they are or used to be like practically FAMILY to each other, yet agree that these two characters in question still have the capacity not to mention desire to pursue HAVING SEX with each other anyway. Do I got that all right? Did I miss anything?  

Originally I provided two examples of fan art I found to help put what I'm trying to say here into better perspective, but since they've been removed, just type in "Sesshomaru and Rin" on Google and you'll find plenty of examples of what I'm talking about here- and no, it's not S*ssrin images. I realize Sesshomaru has never been the touchy-feely sorta guy like it's depicted in some of the fan art, but that doesn't necessarily diminish the affection he feels and attachment he has towards Rin. He just has a different way of expressing his love is all, even if he doesn't outwardly show it. The real question here is, can you really look at sweet pictures of an adult comforting a child who's been under his care for a significant amount of time and then suddenly be like, "oh man, I can't wait till they bang!" I'm sorry, to each their own, but you gotta admit why we must find that creepy. 

4. Regarding Inuyasha and Kagome's relationship, we need to remember that he didn't age after all those years stuck to that tree. And besides, demons age differently so this is a pretty unfair comparison. This isn't the best example, but think about how a cat's lifespan works. 10 years in (indoor) cat years is like 56 in human years. So technically in demon years, Inuyasha is physically and emotionally compatible with a human around Kagome's age. Hell, even though he's over a hundred years older, Kagome is still a whole lot more mature than he probably ever will be! 😂 (Psst! We still love you, Inuyasha! 💋)

Now as for Koga and Ayame, this also isn't comparable to Sesshomaru and Rin. Koga met Ayame one night, only not to see her ever again until she was older and of age. After rescuing her on that night when she was only a girl, he gives her a piggyback ride and you can tell he just wants to cheer her up when he mentions her being his wife someday. (And boy, did that work wonders on Ayame!) Then they gaze at this stunning lunar rainbow together, which I think is quite rare judging by looks of it. This is not an attempt to defend this proposal- if we can even really call it that- but all I'm saying is that I don't think even Koga knows what overcame him in that moment. Fast forward to present-day when they cross paths again, and Ayame still remembers his so-called promise, but guess who doesn't right away? Yep, our man Koga! It takes a quite a while for it to come back to him, too. This further proves my point that something beyond Koga and his power possessed him to say all those things to a little Ayame for some reason. Maybe you can call it destiny, or maybe it was some special kind of magic caused by the lunar rainbow, Idk! All I know is that they do end up together in the Final Act and that it wasn't until they met as two consenting wolf-demons that they really grew to know each other and coincidentally- or maybe not so coincidentally- fall in love.

 5. From what I understand, it appears these drama CDs are some kind of satire which doesn't equate to canon. Perhaps Rumiko did not debunk them but she also didn't confirm they're true either. I'm hearing conflicting reports, however, and her involvement in them is questionable. Like her name is supposedly on the cover or something? But then I've also heard that she has spoken out against this ship. From the sounds of it, there is enough evidence- or lack thereof rather- to conclude that fans cannot use this as proof enough for their ship already being or soon-to-be canon. 

Finally, I'd like to end on this note where I'll be addressing ethics in entertainment. When it comes to our choice of entertainment, there's always a level of escapism implied, sometimes so much that we project ourselves onto certain characters. Delving into a fantasy world like that of Inuyasha can really help some people better cope with real life problems, but it's all about striking the right balance, as each individual has different wants and needs. The thing is there's only so much escapism one can allow in a fictional world before basic morals from our own world begin to take precedence. I can always enjoy some good fantasy, but it's not long until I start to reflect on how I personally relate what entertainment I'm currently absorbed in to real life. It's inevitable really. For example, if certain relationships portrayed on screen conflict with strong opinions I've adopted on a sensitive topic, especially those that take children into account, then I feel it's my responsibility to speak out against any media that even remotely promotes it. Yes, even if it's just fiction. Because art imitates life, right? (And yes, sometimes the other way around.) So in other words, our stories should mirror our way of life to some degree. History has seen its fair share of ugly events and traditions we are surely ashamed of but that we've hopefully learned our lessons from. Most societies nowadays seriously frown upon or condemn stuff like pedophilia, child grooming, or anything of the sort. Of course it doesn't help that we see still see these kinds of issues glossed over so much that we've become desensitized to them in many respects.

The thing is we cannot allow this way too common older-man-dotes-on-young-girl trope (or anything resembling it) to continue to be glorified or romanticized. It matters not that feudal Japan was a drastically different time to be alive and that this was the norm back then, or even that this remains a popular ship in Japan. All it comes down to is if whether we would currently tolerate such acts and behaviors were we to witness them in real life. If your answer is 'no', then it should be 'no' in every respect. If you deem it acceptable just because it's fiction, then I'm sorry to say, but you're going to have to answer to a lot of people. No surprise there, that goes for all fandoms. I guarantee you it's not just the people who personally identify as victims who have serious qualms with this ship either, because you don't necessarily need to have bad experiences of your own in order sympathize and see where a lot of these people are coming from. And no, just because I'm unhappy with the possibility of S*ssrin going canon does not mean I'm whining or that I'm attempting to spread negativity about this series before it's even out. Remember, fans have the right to be critical of whatever content it is they're watching/reading, and if they demand something in the storytelling be represented better, then of course they can challenge that. After all, none of us should feel like "canceling" the content we love is our only hope to fixing a story. That's not how it ever should be. Fans are fed up, and can you really blame them? Nah, we can strive to do better in this area, plus it's not like there isn't always room for improvement. So let's please be more vigilant about how the content we consume translates to reality, in addition to being mindful of how it can directly correlate to real life problems for ourselves as well as others around us.  

That's a wrap, y'all!! I hope you enjoyed what I had to offer on this topic, and here's hoping I actually contributed something new to this conversation! I'm aware that that's unlikely the case for us fans who've been living in this tag the past couple days (like me lol), but I'd like to believe I put my own spin on it and it was still worth your while. 😉 

P.S. Overall, I remain optimistic about the new show! So are there any friendly Inuyasha group chats on Tumblr I can join? If so, please do invite me! I need to obsess about this sequel even more than I already am, EEEK!!!

[tamakiamajikistentacles]

Apples & Cherries {Katsuki Bakugo}

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! This is pretty self-indulgent and the fact that my island is named Isla Nova makes even more obvious lol but I hope you’ll enjoy regardless. Also I chose to ignore that the Japanese version of the game apparently adds Island to whatever name you put because I really didn’t want to change what I had in mind!

Never a stranger to late nights in the dorms, she wasn’t surprised to see the lights on in the common room or hear the faint digital noise floating into the kitchen where she stood searching the freezer for a popsicle at almost 1am. Once she had the treat in hand she turned to see who was playing what, but even slouched low on the couch, the shouting gave them away.

“How the FUCK am I supposed to catch this shitty fish if it doesn’t fucking SPAWN?” he complained, grey smoke rising in a thin line from beyond her view.

On the screen she could see a bouncing blonde villager with a fishing rod standing halfway down the pier jutting out into the dark water. In the distant corner of the screen she could see an object floating lazily to the left, and her original idea of walking away was overcome with the need to see the prize within.

“There’s a balloon coming in from the right,” she said, apparently startling him as he sat up quickly and whipped around with a crackling palm. Upon seeing her he lowered his hand with a click of his tongue and turned back to the television, his villager running up the large expanse of beach to shoot down the balloon. In his pocket, a single gold nugget was unwrapped.

“Don’t sneak up on people,” he grumbled, slouching down again.

She nibbled on her popsicle, the cherry flavor pleasant on her tongue. “What were you trying to catch just before I came in?”

“Why do you fuckin’ care?” he snapped, his villager gathering shells on the shoreline.

“I play too and I’ve caught all the fish leaving at the end of the month,” she said as she scuffed her slippered foot against the carpet. “Maybe I could help?”

“Don’t need help,” he said bluntly.

Crunching another piece of her popsicle, she stayed quiet for a moment as she watched his villager stalk the beach for fish to catch. At one point her eyes wandered from the screen to the TV stand itself and she nearly choked on her last bite.

“You got the limited-edition console?!” she nearly screamed, coming closer to where he sat on the couch. “I wanted one so bad but I didn’t have the money to preorder!”

Bakugo sighed and set his joycon butterfly to his left, turning to face her once more with a tired expression. “Are you just going to stand here and bother me until I tell you what I’m trying to catch? Because if that’s the case it’s the blue fuckin’ marlin. Now go away.”

“You were yelling about how it wasn’t spawning, right? If you make a shit ton of bait and keep using it off the pier you can force it to spawn.”

Picking up his joycons he silently resumed his search for more fish. Figuring he truly didn’t want her help she sighed and moved to go to the elevators; she had her popsicle and that could be her victory for the night.

“How much is a shit ton?”

She stopped, teeth sunk halfway into the frozen treat. Turning back to him, he was still facing the TV but his head was cocked as if listening for her answer.

“It depends,” she finally said. “It took me about forty to catch a tuna.”

“Forty?!” he said loudly, moving to meet her gaze. “How the hell am I supposed to farm forty fucking clams and craft bait and it could still not be enough? I’ll be up the rest of the damn night!”

“I…” she cleared her throat and tried again, “I could help you. If we both take a side of your island we can get a bunch and then while you use it I can keep digging. But only if you want.”

He was quiet for a moment and she finished her popsicle as he considered her offer. Finally, his eyes determined, he nodded.

“Alright. Bring shit to make extra shovels because you aren’t chopping any of my trees if yours break.”

She nodded eagerly. “Yeah, sure, just tell me your Dodo code!”

Bakugo watched her sprint into the kitchen to get rid of the popsicle stick before returning to stand by the couch, her hesitance to sit next to him obvious. But even more obvious was a greater threat to his mission for the blue marlin.

“Where’s your phone?” he asked casually. When she furrowed her brows and pulled it from within her shirt as he’d expected, he followed with, “If you’ve got your Switch in there too I’ll actually be impressed.”

Her face went red immediately and she pointed behind her weakly. “I-I’ll just uh…”

He ignored her stuttering and started digging up clams, allowing her to trail off and run to the elevator where she let out a frustrated sigh as the doors closed. Why couldn’t she keep it together?

Going into her room she grabbed her Switch, slightly self-conscious of her choice of cherry blossom custom skin but she pushed it down as she started the game. Once it was loaded and her villager had stepped out of the house she ran back to her orchard and gathered six of her native fruit, an additional offering to her explosive classmate.

She boarded the elevator and was able to gather enough materials for three shovels just in time for the soft ding to sound and the doors to open at the first floor. Rushing back to the common room, she found Bakugo still on the couch but shifted to lean against the right armrest. Before she could think too much about their close proximity she took a seat to the far left and entered her airport.

“Got enough materials to make three more shovels,” she said. “And I grabbed some of my native fruit in case you didn’t have any. They’re cherries.”

“I could use ‘em. You got a thing for cherries or something?” he asked, remembering the scent of the popsicle and eyeing the red stain on her lips.

“Oh, uh, yeah. They’re my favorite fruit,” she replied. “You can judge me if you want but I reset my game until I got cherries. Got ‘em third try!”

Bakugo shrugged lightly as his villager went into his airport. “I can’t judge. Did the same thing to get apples.”

“Are they your favorite?”

“No.”

“Oh, then why did you want them?”

“Are you going to ask this many questions all night?” he asked as his game connected to the dorm’s wifi for a code.

She sighed. “I’m just trying to be nice and make pleasant conversation. I’ll shut up now. Sorry.”

He was quiet, glancing at her as the screen displayed the code and she typed it in, and then exited the small lobby to stand at the end of the ramp to wait for her. They both watched her descent and arrival to his island, her villager titled as an Untamed Lass smiling cutely in a green dress and black beret as she also exited the airport and met him on the grass, dropping cherries and standing back so he could pick them up.

“I wanted apples because when I got my quirk, the first thing I ever blew up was an apple. My parents couldn’t decide if they were excited for my quirk manifesting or upset that they had to give me another bath.”

“That’s kinda the coolest,” she giggled. Catching sight of the black flag with an explosion symbol in the corner of the screen she added, “Your flag’s really cool too. Anyway, do you want me to take the left side of your island’s beaches so you can stay near the pier?”

“That’s fine.”

She set off to her assigned beach, a printed shovel in her villager’s hands. Just as she was stepping onto the sand, she gasped at the sight of a certain squirrel sitting on the beach with a sandwich in hand.

“You have Marshal?! I’m so jealous!”

“First one at my campsite.”

“I love that little blonde bastard.”

His eyebrows lifted at the fondness the would-be insult held but didn’t comment on it as she fell silent, the soft music coming from her console almost synched with the tune coming from the dorm TV. Every so often he could make out the sound of her shoveling up a clam and excited notes trilling at the discovery.

The quiet peace continued between them as they crafted bait at two benches set aside from the pier, her dropping the finished product for him to begin using and then dashing away to find more clams to continue her little farming operation. He gathered the offered bait and stood at the end of the pier to drop the little flakes, backing up when the fish’s shadow seemed large enough for the blue marlin.

It was slow going a first, the bait seemingly wasted as a majority of the shadows were too small to even be worth casting out his line. When he did actually see the right size, he wound up with a ridiculous amount of seabass and the odd olive flounder. He was beginning to understand why she said it could take a while as the sixtieth bait gave a tiny silhouette sure to be a seahorse or clownfish.

A frustrated sigh escaped him as she dropped twenty more bait on the beach before setting out for more. He put them into his inventory and resigned himself to the fact that he was going to be on the couch the entire night tossing bait into the water. Taking his place on the pier he dropped the flakes only to see a large shadow appear, his hope returning just a bit as he cast out but deflating when the harsh vibrations of a good catch didn’t begin as it bit. Then, as if catching a seabass wasn’t bad enough, his fishing rod disintegrated in his villager’s hand.

“For fuck’s sake I hate this,” he growled, eyes closed and fingers pressed to his temples when his joycons were cast aside.

“Here.”

He looked to his left and when she nodded toward the TV he saw the small red toolbox in the sand behind him.

“Thanks,” he grunted as his villager picked it up. “For this and the bait, I guess.”

She shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

Bakugo knew it was just a bunch of addicting pixels they’d paid entirely too much money for but he felt like it was something. He was an unpleasant bastard to be around and he’d snapped at her half a dozen times already in just the last thirty minutes but she’d offered to help and actually done it; it definitely wasn’t nothing so he resolved to be more cooperative if only slightly.

Shaking away his thoughts, bait number sixty-two was thrown and he cast his line, perking up at the heavy vibration in his hands. He didn’t want to get his hopes up when it was likely just an oarfish.

‘Yes! I caught a blue marlin! Listen to this fish. It’s got a point.’

“FUCK YEAH!”

She jumped at his shout but her face broke into a wide smile when she caught site of the large fish in his villager’s hands. She was happy he was able to check it off of his list and even happier that she was able to help even if it was only by digging up and crafting bait.

“You got it with plenty of time to spare!”

“It’s in the critterpedia and once I take the bastard to the museum I don’t give a fuck if I ever catch another one again!” he said.

She chuckled. “Well now that you’ve got your marlin I can head back to my island. Do you wanna kick me out or should I go back to the airport?

“Go back to the airport. Grab some apples on your way out.”

It was progress.

“Thanks, Bakugo.”

After that night their relationship changed from classmates to some semblance of friends who sent each other items in Animal Crossing. Bakugo had asked for her Switch code a few days later and added her through there and through the game to be best friends a week after that. Their text thread was created and almost explicitly used for the purpose of exchanging furniture and alerting the other as to when something was happening on their respective islands to interest them.

He had let her know when Redd showed up with all real art and a white rattan armchair which she had searched for since the game was released. She in turn sent him the black imperial bed he’d been praying would fall from a balloon each time he’d shot one down.

It was a good system, and one that allowed them to get closer to one another in real life too through conversations had about the game. Since the first night when she helped him get the blue marlin she had learned of his quirk manifesting to blow up an apple, that he spent extra for expedited shipping for an Apollo amiibo coin from the UK because he loved the eagle villagers the most due to a book on birds he had obsessively read when he was younger (he also wanted Queenie off of his island—“I kicked that bitch out the second I could!”), and his favorite activity was mountain climbing which is what inspired the jagged cliffs and custom made signs to indicate the sport was welcome on GroundZero.

“What’s the story behind your island’s name, if you have one?” she asked over their voice chat one night as they played. He’d gone home for the first half of the weekend while she stayed in the dorms but he was coming to her island to sell fish and get a model from the ridiculous beaver they both hated.

“You first,” he replied after a long minute.

She shrugged even though he couldn’t see her. “I picked Isla Nova because I think space is cool and novae are beautiful. A bright burst and then a slow fade is tragically poetic.”

“Bring the mood down why don’t you.”

“Your turn,” she reminded. When he was quiet for another drawn out moment, she furrowed her brows, ready to ask if he was still there. He finally broke the silence as she opened her mouth to call his name.

“The world watched All Might’s career end in the heart of Kamino that night,” he said softly. “You know the statue they put up? They called it the statue at ground zero and that it would stand as a reminder of the last act the Symbol of Peace had done to protect everyone. To… to protect some punk ass kid trying to be a hero who got himself kidnapped.”

Her heart broke at the subtle crack in his voice. “Bakugo…”

“That statue is gonna be there for the rest of my life as a reminder that I should’ve been stronger. All Might can tell me it wasn’t my fault until the end of time but I can’t stop feeling like it was. So if that statue is there to remind me that I wasn’t strong then, my hero name is gonna be there to remind me why I have to be strong now and exactly what type of hero I need to be.”

She wasn’t sure what she should say, her mind working to process everything she had just heard. It was no secret to those who paid attention that Bakugo had blamed himself for All Might’s retirement and was self-conscious of the fact the League had sought him out for his potential as a villain; he carried a lot of guilt for things outside of his control. And now he had taken one thing he had control over, his hero name, and built it around that guilt to resolve to be better. The name Ground Zero was his beginning as a real hero and he was willing for it to be his end.

“Does anyone else know about your hero name?”

“Not the backstory, no. Aizawa knows it’s what I put down for my provisional license. I told Best Jeanist first and Kirishima knows too, but other than that you’re the only one who knows the reason behind it.”

Her heartbeat sped up. “Thanks for telling me, Bakugo.”

“Whatever. Are you gonna talk to this buck-toothed asshole or what? He’s by the climbing walls.”

Just like that the mood shifted once again and the calmness of the game enveloped them both. Rainy weather was perfect for fishing and getting the most bells possible for their catches at the late hour, their villagers running about in their raincoats with hers a dotted light blue and his solid green. It was a nice escape, and she enjoyed the peace until she was back on her island and their call had ended.

As she was turning her light off to sleep, she returned to their earlier conversation around his island name and ultimately his hero name. It was strange to have a serious conversation with Bakugo and for it to hold as much meaning as it did made her shudder. On the other hand, it made her cheeks flush to think that he trusted her enough to speak about something so important to him. In two months they had gone from classmates who rarely spoke one on one to friends.

She had to sleep before the grin on her face stuck permanently.

It did return the next day when she found out that her island would play host to shooting stars that night and she eagerly texted Bakugo to let him know, well aware he hadn’t had a meteor shower since they started playing together.

All day her excitement had her wound tightly and hyper, her love of both astrology and space being indulged by Celeste and the beautiful event not able to happen soon enough. Once the blonde came home in time for the class to gather for dinner, he was teasing her for her jitters but happily making plans to meet in the common room around ten to play.

When the time came the common room was empty as expected, their classmates taking a night to themselves in their room after spending so much time with one another. Despite the television being free neither of them docked their consoles to play on the bigger screen, instead opting to play handheld and find a classic rock channel to provide background music to the stars.

Bakugo could admit to himself that he enjoyed this. Quiet music drifting through the air and bright stars across the dark blue sky on his screen was peaceful, something he didn’t get to experience often. He knew the girl sitting beside him was also a big reason as to why it was so nice. Strong, pretty, and sweeter than the nerikiri Sato had served after dinner, he was happy to have her next to him.

They sat together in comfortable silence wishing on the stars, each making their own wordless wishes and wondering if the other was truly making a wish and if so, what was it?

In truth, there were multiple wishes they each made. She wished that she continued to improve with her quirk training, for an opportunity at her preferred agency after the impending summer break, for a safe training camp this year. Bakugo wished for the skills to be number one, for the training to pay off and make him stronger, for the opportunity to redeem himself from Kamino. But they also shared one wish too—I wish there could be more between us.

Nearly an hour after they had sat down Bakugo turned to ask if she wanted to split the last few pieces of desert left over only to find her eyes closed and breathing steady, grip on her joycons slack around a darkened screen. Chuckling to himself, he gently took it from her hand and unlocked it. Tilting the screen up to the sky he held it in his lap next to his own and continued wishing on the stars falling across both screens.

By midnight she hadn’t woken up and his eyes were starting to droop. He kicked himself off of her island and saved her game as his villager returned to his own island, saving once he was able to. The noise of him turning off the TV woke her, her face scrunching cutely as she gained her bearings.

“How long was I asleep?” she asked with a yawn.

“’Bout an hour. I kept wishing on your game so you don’t miss out on any fragments tomorrow,” he said.

She smiled tiredly. “You’re my hero. Thank you, Bakugo.”

He didn’t think her calling him a hero should feel as amazing as it did, igniting a fire in his chest and warming him from the inside out. He wanted to be her hero just as much as he wanted to be a hero in general. He wanted to be her hero, but not as Bakugo. He wanted to be her hero as Katsuki, and maybe the way to get to that point was presenting itself.

“You don’t have to thank me, but if you really want to, how about we go to breakfast in the morning?” he suggested quietly, placing his Switch into it’s carrying case.

A grin bloomed across her face and she nodded eagerly, planning to meet him back in the common room at nine the next morning. He agreed easily. If their friendship could start in the common room, maybe a relationship could too if that’s where they met for a first date.

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! If you’re curious about all of Bakugo’s villagers, I did make a list but couldn’t find where I wanted to mention it so he has: Coach, Shari, Apollo, Bluebear, Lolly, Hugh, Marshal, Blanche, Rod, & Chrissy. “She” (to continue the self-indulgent nature of this lmao) has Lyman, Katt, Nibbles, Flurry, Olaf, Lobo, Filbert, Francine, Julia, and Papi!

[weheirsofdurin]

Lets go for another fluff piece. (Pre-hobbit around the same time as the starter I did)

Five times Dwarvish Courting went over an elf’s head, one time it didn’t

Filirubbed at the smooth rock in his hand, the pad of his thumb catching on the only thing marking it’s surface. THe dwarven runes inlaid expertly caused his heart to pound heavily. Glancing down at the golden colored stone, the blue ruins a stark contrast.

His fond smile caught another’s attention and before he knew it, the elf named after the hero Glorfindel, stood before him. “What have you got there Master Dwarf?”

Looking up Fili hid the stone in his fist before wincing, it had been a startled reaction and nothing against his elven friend. “A gift.” He said simply then reaching out took Glorfindel’s hand and placed the stone within it. “There is lore that if you write on a stone and gift it to another, that it will come true.”

Turning on his heel the dwarf stormed off, back to his forge. Poor Glorfindel was left with the stone in his hand and dwarvish runes he did not understand glared up at him. “What was your wish, my little lion?” He wondered aloud in elvish before pocketing the stone.

Dwarves had such odd traditions at times.

.~:*:~.

Glorfindel entered the forge silently, as elves were known to do, and Fili never noticed the other man. Not at first. As he worked he hummed, mumbling words in a language Glorfindel had never thought to learn until now. He sang as he worked which the elf found endearing. When Fili turned and spotted him there was a hesitation in his movements and the song cut off.

“Lord elf, it is common courtesy to announce yourself upon entry to ones forge.” It was courtesy to announce oneself anywhere but Fili would not nit pick that for now.

“Ah, yes.” Glorfindel at least looked abashed at the slight chastisement. “You were singing so nicely though that I did not wish to interrupt.” This time it was Fili’s turn to turn a bright red on his nose and ears. “What iis it that you are making?”

“A gift.” Fili said and he set what looked to be the beginnings of a dagger onto a hot stone. His gloved hand held the prongs tight and his other hand reached for a hammer and he began to bang away. Immediately he began to sing again, the thrumm of the the song matching with the hammering and Fin found himself enthralled once again. This was how dwarves worked, how they kept pace, how their forges and weapons were so perfect. They sang to keep track and upon hitting certain points knew instinctively it was time to shift.

“Perhaps we can meet for dinner tomorrow eve, Lord Elf.” Fili spoke to Glorfindel as the metal blade was put back into the forge to heat back up.

Knowing a dismissal for what it was Glorfindel bowed. “Of course, Master Dwarf, I look forward to our meeting.”

WHen they did meet the following eve Fili and him only made it part way through their meal before a dwarf raced up to the blacksmith. “Fili, there’s a problem and we need you urgently.” Without hesitation Fili stood and there was an air of authority about him. Fin knew that Fili was in charge while the real leader was away so it made sense, but at the same time there was a regalness about this authority.

“Forgive me, Glorfindel, but I must go. I wished to properly give you this but please accept it even so,” REaching out Fili held a small dagger for Glorfindel, the leather that would wrap around his thigh looked old and worn, probably made from scraps previously. Accepting it he watched Fili run off and he pulled the blade from it’s sheathe. His breath caught.

This was a dwarven blade but its inlay was far more elven. The smooth curving lines which he realized were vines wrapped around the flat plane. Small thorns adorned it making the delicate lines sharp and threatening, the green pain practically glowed in the sun and along the hilt golden flowers were encrusted. Did Fili know of who he was to put this there? No he couldn’t. Fin had never told the dwarf who he was. Someone must have mentioned something though.

Wait- was this the blade Fili had been making yesterday?!

.~:*:~.

“Bugs?” Fili held a doubtful expression as he looked at his brother. He just could not believe it. Really. Elves thought bugs were appropriate for courting? That sounded too far-fetched.

“Aye, I heard it from Gimli who heard it from Gloin! Gloin said that he had met elves back in erebor and they were always giving each other bugs upon courting.” Kili insisted, his expression serious and Fili was struggling to figure out if he was being honest or playing him a fool. “Fine, dont believe me. It’s not like your stone gift or blade gift made him realize.”

“Ah- wait! Kili, come back. I just- I need to know more. Was it just worms or was it a specific bug or-?” Fili did not look forward to digging up worms to give to Glorfindel.

“I don’t know, but worms are abundant. Come on, I’ll help you collect them.”

Fili and Kili only returned a few hours later dirty and both looking smug, for vastly different reasons. Fili because he had just given his courting gift to Glorfindel, Kili because he made his idiot of a brother actually believe him about bugs.

Glorfindel, was just confused. With all these worms… did Fili wish to go fishing?

.~:*:~.

The bugs, Fili learned, turned out to be a lie. He had to explain to Glorfindel that Kili had insisted that elves liked bugs and that he should give some to the commander. Only to later learn from his mother that Kili had lied. Thankfully as soon as Glorfindel learned it was a prank on FIli by Kili, he understood and got a solid laugh out of it. The elf really had been utterly confused but it all made sense now.

Now, Glorfindel was searching for his friend in the hopes they might share a meal together and talk further. He had come to learn the dwarf knew very little of Glorfindel’s name other than there was a hero who had died that had the same name. The silly dwarf did not make the connection he <i>was</i> one and the same. Fin was Glorfindel, the bolrog slayer. An epiphat that he had never wished for but had taken it without remorse.

It had stung when Fili snorted at the story, how the Bolrog killed him by grabbing his hair and pulling him into the abyss. But at the same time he had understood, it was ironic - as the Dwarf had put it - that Glorfindel had fought in a war, had managed to defeat hundreds of enemies, even taken down a Bolrog, but the vanity all elves had which made them leave their hair fairly loose upon the battle field, was what had done him in.

Glorfindel had not thought of it before but it was true. Had he not let his hair be free it would not have been grabbed, he would have survived. Even now he never pulled it back truly, only was far mor conscious of it and the braids he used to keep the front out of his face. “Fili,” Glorfindel smiled at the dwarf and bowed in greeting.

“Fin.” His reply was terse but not uncaring. It seemed once again he was irritated by others looking to him without refused to what he was currently doing. Fili had once confided in Glorfindel that he didn’t even mind the stupid requests, it was when they were pressed upon him as he was doing something important that he minded.

“Would you like to come eat with me for the midday meal?” THe request barely left the elf’s lips, but FIli was already shoving all of his paperwork into Kili’s arms - the poor younger brother scowling - and making his way to Glorfindel’s side.

“Aye, Kili will be doing my duties for me while we go eat, part of his punishment for his cruel joke.”

“I said I was sorry,” Kili whined, but he knew his mother sided with Fili on this. Counting was not some trivial matter the be joked around with.

AFter the two had their meal, and Fili looking remorse knowing he had to go back, Glorfindel brought up what had been on his mind earlier. “Fili, I must go hunting soon, a pack of orcs were sighted nearby, by my scouts. We will be ridding the land of the pests and making sure none get close to the village.”

“Orca? Ye are sure they were sighted near?” When Glorfindel nodded Fili cursed. “I will gather a group of dwarves to hunt with ye-“

“No, Fili. This is how we elves shall repay you for the kindness you have allowed. Staying on your land may be mutually beneficial but few dwarves would offer this kindness up. I just request that you help me this even before I leave. It has come to my attention that my hair is a disadvantage in battle. WHile I am versed in putting it up for elven ceremonies, those styles are not fit for battle.”

Without thinking about it, Glorfindel reached out and touched a braid that surrounded Fili’s lips. “What are ye asking of me, Glorfindel? Do ye know?”

“I’m asking you to braid my hair, my friend. So that should an enemy grasp at it, I will not be felled again from some cliff.”

Fili looked infuriated as he tossed his mane of hair back, and tugged his braid free of the loose finger. “Fine.” His word was spat venomously and he stood, “I will be at your tent after the evening meal.”

Glorfindel did not know it, how could he when it was not part of his custom, but asking a dwarf to touch his hair was as intimate to the small men as sexual relations. His words stung and dishonored Fili. Calling him a <i>friend</i> as he touched a braid and asked for it in return, was saying he was no better than an easy fuck.

Fili was far too in love to say no though, so he took the insult and dishonor to his name. Showing up at the elf’s tent in a foul mood but still showing up because he did care. His fingers were rough but not unkind as he touched the long golden hair, he’d never seen hair this long as any dwarf with hair this length had long since put it up.Fili put in multiple braids, intertwining them at points to create a patter which would secure what was not put up before pulling all the hair together and tying it off with a leather strip.

What was left down was still one but would not flow far from his body and any grasp on it would be easy enough to remove. Glorfindel knew he could never recreate such an intricate style on his own, and was thankful for the dwarf’s help. But something about Fili looked <i>off</i> after and Glorfindel let the dwarf storm off without a word uttered.

There was no time to deal with this now and would have to wait until his return. PErhaps he had said something or asked something of Fili that was rude. But he had seen Fili braiding and pulling Kili’s hair back before, along with a female Dwarf’s. Thinking of this was just like riding in circles, getting him nowhere. Instead of worrying much further over it he heaved a sigh and left with his men.

“Lord Glorfindel…” One of his men rode closer and leaned over. “Did a dwarf do that for you?” He spoke lowly and GLorfindel narrowed his eyes, to speak so meant he knew something and hoped the others would not hear. So without a word Glorfindel nodded and noticed the grimace. “Was it a whore?”

Pulling on his reigns the horse reared before getting back under control and GLorfindel scowled. “You offer much dishonor to the one that did this for my by asking that.”

“Yes, but no more than you did by asking it of him.” THe elf had leaned away when the horse had reared and Glorfindel looked confused. “Dwarven culture states that hair is sacred in the sense of one another. Only family or one intimate may touch it. Even when they die none of their kind except their priests or family will bind their hair.”

Shocked by the revelation - now now understanding FIli’s fury - he reached back and touched the binding in his hair.

“Do not take it out.” The elf hissed quickly and urged his mount close once more. “You would dishonor him further. Think about it, if you had put flowers upon his head because he asked it of you, and then he removed it not long after…”

Glorfindel tore his hand away from the strap and nodded. Flowers were more sacred to his house than others so he understood deeply. Putting a crown of them upon FIli who thought of him differently, would be similar to what the dwarf had done for him. And if Fili returned later without the flowers he would be shamed like that of a petty bar whore.

“But I <i>do</i> think of him in such a way. I would be honored if he were to become my betrothed.”

The elf snorted and shook his head. “Would you sex a lady before offering to wed her?”

“I will fix this upon our return, thank you for bringing it to my attention.” Glorfindel urged his horse ahead and the elf fell behind, letting their leader think freely.

.~:*:~.

Glorfindel had not had the chance to meet with Fili since returning, but the looks dwarves gave him told him that the elf a fortnight ago was right. He had shamed FIli deeply. Finding the dwarf on the sparring field he made eye contact. Fili was about to start a bout and hesitated, only pausing long enough to remove his tunic much to the surprise of those around. Eyes fell upon Glorfindel once more and some sneered.

WAs this another dwarven culture problem? Did they remove tunics to spar? If so why had the other dwarf not? Why was it only FIli? Could this be because of his shame? As he watched FIli spar, noting every droplet of sweat that trailed down the dwarf’s frame, a woman came up to him.

Or he assumed it was as she- they, has chain jewelry going from their nose to multiple ear piercings. Their beard was kept short and the sideburns neat. Did that mean something? Considering how important hair was he thought so.

“Ye still wear his braids.” Her tone was not harsh, but curt. She was not pleased. “Ye should have removed them before returning. His shame would not be for all to see then.”

“You dishonor both him and I.” Glorfindel replied in a similar tone. He felt as if the repitition would never end. “I wear them still because I care. Do not mistake this as flagging him for something that was not intended. Elves are more lax about their hair than you dwarves and had I known, I would have started something with him first.”

She looked up at him in surprise. “Started something? Ye mean to ask my boy to be betrothed? AN elf and a dwarf, what insanity has this family been cursed with. Watch him carefully as he battles and congratulate him loudly, for all to hear. Win or lose, if ye do not, there will be no saving his honor.” The woman turned on her heel and left after that.

Glorfindel listened to her advice and when Fili bested his opponent he saw his untold queue, Blue dwarven eyes had flicked to him from where the owner stood, dripping sweat, in the middle of the field. “That was amazing FIli,” Glorfindel’s voice rang out and everyone looked at him once more. He might as well go all the way with this. “I’ve rarely seen such power as you displayed. A true master you must be. Come, let us eat and talk about what has been missed in my absence.”

Fili looked grateful and grabbed his tunic from the ground before going to catch up with the elf. Glorfindel supposed a proper talk could wait for tomorrow and for now a chat about what had happened in both of their absences was more paramount.

.~:*:~.

Fili sought out an elf after his meeting with Glorfindel and finally decided he needed to go to the source to do it right. His eyes had sought out a familiar face and upon finding it, he made his way to the tall elf that he figured was Glorfindel’s second in command. “Lord Elf,” He greeted and the elf bowed to him, knowing that FIli was in charge here and deserved respect for now.

“Master Dwarf.” The greeting returned could ahve been seen as rude but Fili was not so naive as to let the lack of names be anything more than simple unfamiliarity.

“I have a question for ye about yer customs, would you spare a few moments of time?”

“It seems to ahve taken you long enough to seek me out for this, a few moments will be of no concern.” When the elf stood up from the bow there was a cocky smirk upon his lips.

“I see one of ye are versed in my idiocy.”

…

Glorfindel sat in the open field, legs stretched before him but crossed at the ankles, just backing in the scent of flowers before him. Something light touched his head and was placed upon his brow. Carefully reaching up his fingers touched flowers and he blushed knowing it was a crown of them.

Looking over to the Dwarf he saw FIli smiling down at him and it dawned on him with this gift, what everything had been. “You have been courting me.” It was not voiced as a question and as such Fili did not reply. “Now you ask for my hand in marriage?”

“Aye, for it seems that my previous betrothal gifts while accepted were not understood.” Taking the crown from his head he looked it over, smiling at the arrangement before putting it back where it belong.

“Other gifts? More than just the hair?”

Fili looked surprised and blushed. “The hair was not a courting gift, it was cruel of me to accept and I did so in anger and hurt. I touched yer hair and put it on display for all to see that we were intimate but to ahve ye go out and about with it meant we were shameful.

“Nay, I meant the stone with Love inscribed, the hand crafted betrothal blade, ...the bugs Kili had told me were an elven courting gesture,” Glorfindel snorted at that, it made even more sense now why Kili was taking a harsh punishment for his actions, “and proving myself afore ye in the spar last eve. Had you not accepted that, there would be no hope now.”

“FIli, you should have just said something.”

“Tis not how courting goes.” The dwarf grumbled but stopped as Fin reached up to put a hand on his cheek and smile at him.

“Here, let me show you how we elves accept a crown of flowers.” Their lips met in their first, and not nearly last, kiss.

[hysterialevi]

His Name Was Isaac - Ch. 3

Fanfic summary: During a mission to avenge his mother’s death, Isaac hunts down the men responsible for her murder and kills them off one-by-one, only to discover that his last target is taking refuge among the Van der Linde gang. In an attempt to kill them, Isaac attacks the gang and unknowingly becomes enemies with his own father, who is in the process of fighting his own battle for redemption.

Point of view: third-person

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This story is also on AO3

ONE WEEK LATER

OUTSKIRTS OF BLACKWATER

Steadily moving his line of sight just along the distant horizon, Shay Mackintosh kept a close eye on the bank in Blackwater as a number of customers went in and out, completely oblivious to the gang that lurked no more than a stone’s throw away from them.

At the moment, the town seemed pretty calm. Normal. Ordinary. Not nearly as hostile as the last time Shay set foot there. That must’ve meant that the people had either grown too comfortable with their lives, or that there was someone else guarding the perimeter for them. And considering the rumors of Pinkertons roaming around Tall Trees, Shay assumed it was the latter.

...Dammit, he mentally cursed to himself. 

The last thing the Van der Lindes needed to worry about right now were Pinkertons. Dutch was already close to losing his mind as it was, and with the Skinner Brothers’ growing presence in West Elizabeth, Shay doubted the man would be calming down anytime soon.

If federal agents started going after them... well, he didn’t even wanna think about the chaos they’d cause.

Though... this could’ve been a blessing in disguise, depending on how one looked at it. As money-hungry as their gang was, Shay could see that everyone was anxious to get out of West Elizabeth and move on somewhere safer. Somewhere that didn’t have lawmen or rival gangs prowling around every corner.

A few of the other members had already expressed their concerns surrounding the upcoming robbery in Blackwater, and with the presence of Pinkertons now being an issue, Shay expected there would be even more infighting back at their hideout.

If too many threats presented themselves at the same time... perhaps Dutch would finally see sense and agree to relocate their camp. 

But... then again, that could’ve just been wishful thinking on Shay’s part. Dutch was known for his stubbornness, after all, and Mackintosh couldn’t remember the last time their leader ever swayed his mind about something without raising hell about it first.

If he truly had his mind set on robbing this godforsaken bank, then... Shay supposed that was what they’d do. Dutch was the boss in the end of the day, and his word was practically law.

It didn’t mean Shay wasn’t worried, though. 

“Mackintosh...!” A man’s voice suddenly called out from behind, cutting off Shay’s train of thought. 

The outlaw whipped around in alarm and instantly reached for his pistol, only to come to a halt once he saw who it was.

“Jesus, Arthur...!” he whispered in a startled tone. “I nearly blew your goddamn head off. Thought you was one of them Skinner boys.”

The older man chuckled, crouching down so that he was at the same level as Shay.

“I’ll try not to take that as an insult. What’re you doin’ out here?”

Mackintosh returned to his binoculars, focusing the lenses. “Dutch asked me to scout the place out before we move in. He wanted to know what we’re dealin’ with.”

Arthur leaned closer to Shay and squinted his eyes, trying to follow the man’s gaze. “...And? You see anything worth noting? How many guards are at that bank?”

“Well... I’ve counted about a dozen so far, though there could be more I’m not seeing. They switch every once in a while, but it ain’t often. Not many openings for us to charge in.” 

Shay lowered his binoculars for a second, turning to face Arthur. “...I won’t lie to you, Morgan. It’s gonna be difficult to rob this bank. The whole thing’s under heavy guard, and there are Pinkertons wanderin’ in the streets now. It’d be a huge risk to grab this score, even with all our men.”

The other man held his hand out. “Here. Lemme take a look.”

Passing the device over to Arthur, Shay patiently stood by as the man thoroughly scanned the area, picking up every detail he possibly could.

“Yeah...” Arthur muttered worriedly, “...security’s gotten real tight in Blackwater, that’s for sure.”

“And you still think it’s a good idea to hit this town?” Shay questioned.

“It don’t matter what I think,” Morgan replied. “It ain’t up to me.”

“No, but I imagine you still have a mind of your own, don’t you? As well as your own concerns.”

The older man gave him a cautionary side glance. “It sounds like you’ve got some, Mackintosh. Care to share?”

Shay sighed in a defeated manner. “Look, I know Dutch thinks this’ll be a easy score since Blackwater’s such a small town, but small doesn’t always mean easy. It just means more concentrated. I mean, look at this place.”

He gestured to the settlement in front of them. “Blackwater’s essentially one, giant square. All the buildings are more-or-less in the same area, and it ain’t nearly as convoluted as the other cities we’ve hit. There are fewer blind spots to worry about. Fewer entrances to keep an eye on. Fewer places for us to hide if things go south. And there’s also the fact that Pinkertons have been seen in Tall Trees. If this plan goes awry--”

“--It won’t.” Arthur interrupted.

“...If it does,” Shay reiterated, “we’ll be dead men. The law will have no problems cagin’ us in, and we’ll be hanged on the spot.”

As much as Arthur hated to admit it, the man had a point. Blackwater wasn’t exactly the ideal place for an outlaw to be right now, and with all the threats surrounding them in this area, he couldn’t deny that he thought they might’ve been better off staying the hell away from this town.

But even then, his thoughts were irrelevant. No matter what his opinions were, it was Dutch who always had the final say, and Arthur knew damn well that a few lawmen strolling about wouldn’t be enough to scare the old man off.

If they were going to convince Dutch to leave Blackwater alone, they’d need one hell of a good reason. And at the moment, Arthur couldn’t think of one.

“Look,” Arthur said, keeping his voice down, “I hear you, Shay. But like I said before, it ain’t my choice whether we stick around or not. That’s Dutch’s decision.”

Shay persisted. “Well, yeah, but you’re the only one he actually listens to. That’s why I’m tellin’ you this, Morgan. If you speak with Dutch, he might see where we’re coming from.”

Arthur put the binoculars down. “And if he doesn’t, we risk being accused of being traitors.”

Mackintosh quirked a brow. “What are you talkin’ about?”

“That’s how Dutch’s mind works now,” Morgan explained. “I dunno if you’ve noticed, but he’s a paranoid mess these days. He values loyalty above everything else in this world, and in his head, loyalty means you don’t question anything he does. If I bring up our concerns about this robbery and Dutch doesn’t see reason, he’ll lose all his faith in us. I’ve seen previous gang members get shot over less.”

Shay’s expression froze with shock. “Jesus. I knew Dutch was unstable, but that’s downright lunacy.”

Arthur sighed in frustration. “He ain’t a lunatic. He’s just...” he trailed off, unable to find the right words. “...look, forget it. Let’s just get back to camp. I’m sure Dutch is waiting to hear what we’ve found.”

Shay took his binoculars back, sliding them into his satchel. “And then you’ll have a word with him?”

The other man rose to his feet, nodding in response. “I’ll... I’ll see what I can do. I ain’t gonna promise anything, but I’ll try to make him see reason.”

Mackintosh followed Arthur’s actions and returned to his horse, preparing to head back to camp. “Thank you, Arthur. That’s all I ask. Lots of folk are nervous about this robbery, and I wouldn’t wanna see half our gang get wiped out all because of one mistake.”

Arthur thought back to the ferry job they did eight years ago, not even bothering to point out the extreme irony in Shay’s statement.

“...No,” he settled for, sounding much more regretful than before. “We wouldn’t.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A LITTLE LATER

AURORA BASIN

Opening the door to Dutch’s cabin, Arthur and Shay both sauntered into the cold living room as the smell of lingering smoke smacked them in the face, causing the latter to let out a series of coughs.

At the moment, Dutch was mindlessly chewing on the tip of a freshly-lit pipe and steadily pacing around the room, allowing him to think more intently as he listened to Micah prattle on about some nonsense.

It looked like the other man had just returned from his own journey, judging by the heavy satchel slung over his shoulder. There didn’t seem to be much in it other than a few dead rabbits, and considering the fact that there was still some blood on Micah’s glove, Arthur assumed the man had been out hunting.

About time he did something useful, Arthur thought. The man rarely ever lifted a finger around camp other than to swat flies, and when he wasn’t irritating the hell out of the other gang members, he was back in this cabin, doing whatever he could to lick Dutch’s boots. Though, this time... the tone of Micah’s voice suggested he may have been here for another reason.

“Shay! Arthur!” Dutch barked once his gaze landed on the two new guests in his cabin. “You’re back. What did you learn?”

“The bank’s locked up tight, Dutch,” Mackintosh answered, stepping closer to him. “We counted about a dozen guards standing outside of it, and I also spotted some new security measures while we was there. They’ve got more walls. More gates. More places to trap us if we ain’t careful. This is gonna be a risky job no matter how many people we bring.”

The older man didn’t seem pleased. “Well, that’s good to know, but I thought I told you to be discreet.”

Shay blinked in confusion. “We... were. We didn’t set a single foot in Blackwater and scouted it from the outskirts. Just like you said.”

“Oh, is that so? Then why is it that there’s someone in town looking for us?”

Arthur jumped in, his interest now piqued. “Wait, there is?”

Dutch gestured to Micah. “Yeah, Micah saw him. He was just telling me about it before you boys walked in. Said he spotted them in the saloon.”

The other man nodded casually. “Sure did. It was a young man. About this tall. Blonde. I didn’t catch his name, but he was askin’ all sorts of folk if they knew who the Van der Lindes were. Also if they knew Dutch. He seemed pretty determined to find us. Luckily, he didn’t notice me.”

Arthur rubbed his chin, suddenly feeling a lot less confident about bringing up his concerns to Dutch. “...Shit. Was he a lawman?”

Micah shook his head. “Nah, I don’t think so. He didn’t look like one. Didn’t have no shiny badge neither. My guess is he’s a bounty hunter.”

Shay furrowed his brows. “A single bounty hunter tracking us down all by himself? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Arthur took on a more cautionary tone. “Who says he’s by himself? You’d have to be a fool to fight a gang on your own. It’s most-likely he’s got more friends that we haven’t seen yet.”

Micah shrugged. “That, or he doesn’t realize how close he is to us. Probably thinks he’s still got a ways to go before worryin’ about any sort of fighting. After all, no one expects to find what’s right under their nose.”

Mackintosh changed the subject. “Either way, if this man’s asking questions all around town, he’s gonna draw attention to us. We need to deal with him before anyone else takes an interest.”

“He’s right,” Arthur agreed, turning to Dutch. “You want us to deal with him, Dutch? We can go back to Blackwater. Take him out right now.”

“No.” The man responded, causing all three of them to fall silent.

“...No?” Micah asked, significantly more concerned now. “But if we don’t kill him now, he’s bound to find our camp later.”

Dutch grinned deviously at that. “Exactly. It’s too risky for us to attack him when he’s in the heart of civilization. There are too many obstacles. Too many guards. Too many people. So, instead... I say we let him find us. We’ll play along, let him think that we don’t know what he’s doing, and when he finally comes waltzing into the lion’s den -- that’s when we’ll strike.”

“But what if he’s not alone?” Arthur pointed out. “We’ll have an entire group of bounty hunters right on our doorstep.”

“Then we fight.” Dutch said plainly. “We have enough men to deal with a few guns. We’ll be alright. For now, though, just stay focused on the bank. I don’t want any of you worrying about no bounty hunters unless we have to. Understand?”

The three of them exchanged looks for a moment, ultimately deciding that it wasn’t worth an argument.

“Of course, Dutch,” Micah finally complied. “You’re the boss.”

The older man appeared satisfied with that answer. “Good. Now get back to work. All of you. This bank ain’t gonna open itself.”

Ending the conversation there, Dutch put his smoking pipe away and gave a simple wave of the hand, signaling for everyone to return to their lives while he wandered back to his rocking chair.

Shay and Micah were already halfway out the front door by the time Dutch took a seat, but as always, Arthur remained the odd one out and stayed in place, pondering what he should do next.

Unbeknownst to him however, he wasn’t the only one thinking.

“...I know that look, Arthur.” Dutch remarked, his back turned to him. “I’ve known it for the past eight years. There’s somethin’ you wanna say, isn’t there?”

The younger outlaw hesitated for a second, unsure of whether he should tell the truth.

“...Yeah...” he grumbled out, “but you ain’t gonna like it.”

Dutch chuckled. “Try me.”

Walking up to Dutch, Arthur took a while to gather his thoughts before joining the other man’s side, stopping to lean against a nearby table. He still wasn’t entirely certain if he wanted to express his true thoughts to his friend, but deep down, Arthur knew that what Mackintosh said at Blackwater had merit in it.

“...I think we should leave Blackwater alone.” Arthur admitted at last, earning a puzzled look from Dutch.

The older outlaw paused for a moment, wrapping his head around what the other just said.

“Leave Blackwater... alone?” He repeated, clearly not on board with the idea.

“It’s too risky, Dutch. We don’t even know if the bank is worth it. We’ve got no idea how much cash is really bein’ held in that vault, and on top of that, there’s a shit ton of guards patrolling the area. You heard Shay back there. They’ll shoot us down before we even reach the building.”

 “Which probably means there’s a lot of money just sittin’ in there waiting to be stolen! Why else would the security be so tight?”

Arthur knew he was going to say that. “And what about these Pinkertons? We’ve all heard the rumors. They’ve been seen in Tall Trees, Dutch. That’s right outside our camp! All they have to do is take one wrong step, and they’ll be on top of us before we know it. We have to leave now. We don’t want a repeat of what happened in Blackwater eight years ago. You remember the chaos that led to?”

Dutch sighed. “Of course I do. But we won’t make that mistake again. This time, we’ll be better prepared.”

The younger man held his hands out in a perplexed manner. “How? We have even fewer men than we did for the ferry job, and the bounty on our heads is bigger than ever. How are our chances gonna be any higher for this score?”

“Because we have you now.” Dutch said. “You wasn’t with us for the ferry job, and neither was Hosea. And look how that turned out.” 

He stood up from his chair and placed a reassuring hand on Arthur’s shoulder, looking him in the eye. “But we have your help this time. Hosea may not be with us anymore, but I know for a fact you wouldn’t let me down, son. I have no doubts that this job’ll go just fine.”

Arthur saw right through the flattery and put his hands on his hips, completely at a loss for words.

There was nothing he could say or do that would convince Dutch to leave Blackwater, was there? The man was entirely obsessed with the city by now, and Arthur knew that at the heart of it, none of this really had anything to do with the money in the first place. It was purely about Dutch’s pride.

He knew that Dutch still hadn’t gotten over what happened to them all those years ago, and he knew that the old man wouldn’t take his eyes off this town until he managed to pull off a successful score. 

He was falling victim to his own insanity, and Arthur had no other choice but to try and pull him away from the edge. It was one hell of a risky move to make, but he decided it’d be worth it.

Arthur let out a remorseful breath and lowered his head, almost whispering his next words.

“...You’re losin’ yourself, Dutch.” He said vehemently. “I can see it everyday. More and more of the old you is just... vanishing.”

The older outlaw appeared taken aback by the abrupt notion and narrowed his eyes, almost looking offended.

“Losing myself?” He replied, his voice dangerously calm. “...How so?”

Arthur gestured vaguely at the room around them. “Look at what we’re doing, Dutch. How many men have we lost just tryin’ to reach Blackwater? Not to mention actually stealing from it. Our gang is dyin’ out here. This area’s too dangerous for the likes of us, and yet... we won’t leave. You won’t leave. The Dutch I know would’ve packed his bags long ago.”

The other man fell silent at that and tightened his lips, making an expression that said Arthur had just crossed the line.

“You think I’m losin’ myself.” Dutch parroted once again, his tone completely flat. “You think... I’m... losing. Myself.”

He took a few steps away from Arthur and began pacing around the room, chuckling to himself in a heartbroken manner.

“...Hosea is dead, Arthur,” Dutch stated, sounding more feral with every passing second. “John is a traitor. My health is deteriorating, we have the law on our tail, and now, the only son I have left thinks I’ve gone crazy--”

The tyrannical man brought his gaze back to Arthur, his eyes wide open with madness.

“Of course, I’m losing myself, Arthur! Wouldn’t you? This world... has gone to shit! Civilization has no room for folk like us, and even within our own world of murderers, thieves, and rapists -- we are still tearing ourselves apart! I have sacrificed everything to keep this gang afloat, even when we went through hell! You are my family, Arthur. You, Hosea, John, Miss Grimshaw... you were all my family. But just like the rest of them, you’re startin’ to lose faith in me too!”

Dutch pulled his revolver out, blatantly aiming the weapon at Arthur.

“Are you gonna leave me, Arthur? You gonna turn your back on me and leave me to the goddamn wolves, just like the rest of them? Are you a snake?”

Arthur held his hands up, absolutely bewildered by Dutch’s deranged response.

“What? No! I’m right here, Dutch. I ain’t gonna leave you.”

“That’s what they all said,” the older man dismissed, evidently unconvinced. “That’s what they all tried to tell me. But when it really mattered, they all--”

Coming to an abrupt halt, Dutch’s words were cut off when he was suddenly struck by a coughing fit, causing him to drop his gun as his entire body heaved uncontrollably.

“Dutch!” Arthur exclaimed out of concern, rushing over to him.

The man continued to cough aggressively and hurriedly searched for his chair, desperately wanting to sit down as he leaned on Arthur for support.

“Easy, Dutch...” he comforted, helping the man into his seat. “Just... take it easy.”

Setting Dutch down, Arthur kept a firm grip on him until he was sure he wouldn’t keel over and stood patiently at his side, waiting until the man’s coughing fit calmed down.

“You okay there, old man?” He asked. Dutch coughed a few more times, eventually hacking up some blood before spitting it on the floor.

Arthur eyed the blood with a worried glance, trying to hide how frightened he truly was about the man’s health.

“Jesus...” he murmured. “Dutch, I’m sorry--”

“--Don’t.” The other man interrupted, wiping his mouth clean. “I don’t want no pity.”

Finally back to his normal state, Dutch let out a deep sigh and leaned back in his chair, clearly worn out from the havoc his own body just put him through. His skin was much paler now, and just by listening to the shaky rhythm of his breath, Arthur could tell he was getting weaker and weaker by the minute. 

It wouldn’t be that long now before he was at Hosea’s side again. The only doctor who could’ve possibly given Dutch some sort of treatment was all the way in Blackwater, and even if they somehow managed to sneak him past all the law, Arthur doubted there was anything they could do to save him.

Dutch’s life was quite literally slipping out of his grasp these days, and much like everything else they had lost in the past few years, there was no way they could get it back. 

Even with Arthur at his side.

“...R’you gonna be okay, Dutch?” Morgan asked solemnly, despite the obvious answer.

The outlaw shook his head, throwing a glare at him. “What d’you think?”

Arthur’s shoulders slouched in despondency. “I know, I know. Stupid question. I just...”

He cleared his throat, deciding to drop the subject. “...Never mind. Forget I said anything. Just... take care of yourself, alright? None of us wanna see you go too soon.”

Dutch nodded in response, admittedly curious about what Arthur was going to say.

“I’ll try, son.” He reassured, his voice much softer now. “You know me. I was born to be an outlaw. All the way to the end. And I intend to go out like one.”

~~~~~~~~~~

ONE HOUR LATER

BLACKWATER SALOON

Humming quietly to himself, Isaac relaxed on the edge of his bed as he gently cleaned the Springfield rifle in his grasp, preparing for the storm ahead. It had taken him nearly three months to get to where he was now, but after all the traveling and searching and questioning... he was finally close to reaching the Van der Linde gang. And to killing Shay Mackintosh.

It was strange, Isaac found, to think about everything he had been through these past fifteen years. At the start of this hurricane, he was nothing more than a boy merely trying to survive with the men who killed his mother, but now... he was the one delivering them to Hell’s gate.

He knew it probably meant nothing to the people around him -- and some might’ve even considered him crazy for pursuing revenge for so long, but ever since Eliza’s death -- Isaac had had this sense of hatred burning inside him that he just... couldn’t let go.

It was always there. No matter what he did. Even when he smiled, or laughed, or cried... he could feel it growing within him like a parasite.

There were some days when Isaac managed to go from dawn to dusk without a single thought of what happened to him, but late at night, when he’d delve into his dreams, the same nightmare would come back every single time to haunt him, and he’d see her face again. Hear her final words. Her final breath. And the next morning... he’d have a gun in his hand, ready to hunt down the men responsible for her suffering.

It was agonizing sometimes, to deal with such a unique rage. Isaac wanted nothing more than to settle down somewhere and live a normal life, but every time his memories reminded him of the horrific murder, he’d feel the same hatred growing inside him again and set out on his journey for vengeance, craving the blood of those who wronged him.

Perhaps that made him a monster in some people’s eyes. Isaac recalled Minister Swanson mentioning that he saw something darker in the boy’s heart, but to him, this was the only path that made sense.

There was no justice out in the Wild West, after all. You were either the victim, or the victor. If Isaac didn’t go after Mackintosh himself, Lord knew that no one else would. And on top of that, he figured his mother deserved to rest in peace after fifteen years of watching her killers wander freely.

It was what Eliza would’ve wanted, Isaac imagined, and he wasn’t going to forget it.

Sighing in discontent, Isaac set the rifle down and stared aimlessly at the window in front of him, admittedly feeling somewhat torn about these upcoming weeks.

What was he going to do when he found Mackintosh? What was he going to say? Would the man even recognize him after all these years? Would Isaac recognize Shay?

Well, whatever happened, one thing was clear. Mackintosh had to die. However or whenever that came to be, Isaac didn’t care. The only thing that concerned him was landing the killing blow.

Mackintosh was the one who pulled the trigger when Eliza died, so Isaac only deemed it fitting that he’d be the one bring it into a full circle.

He may’ve not had any family left, but by God was he going to avenge them.

Interrupting Isaac’s thoughts, a knock suddenly came from the door and averted the young man’s attention, causing him to stand up from the bed.

“Just a moment!” He called out, quickly slipping into his coat before striding to the entrance.

Swinging the door open, Isaac found himself face-to-face with a rugged-looking man. He had graying blond hair, a horseshoe mustache, cold-blue eyes, and a special kind of demeanor to him that shouted “degenerate.”

The visitor threw a casual wave at him, clearly not realizing what sort of impression he gave off.

“Hey there, cowpoke,” he greeted, his tone oozing with connivance. “...Mind if we talk for a minute?”

Isaac subtly kept a hand on his pistol, trying to conceal his mistrust. “That depends. Who are you? What d’you want?”

The man chuckled. “Suspicious one, ain’t you? Have no fear...” he held his hands up, “I ain’t here for that. In fact, I’m here to help you.”

That didn’t make Isaac feel any better. “That so? Well then, why don’t you answer my first question? Who are you?”

He placed an introductory hand on his chest. “Relax, princess. The name’s Micah. As for what I want, well... I couldn’t help but overhear your conversations with some of the folk downstairs, and it sounds to me like you’re lookin’ for the Van der Linde gang. Am I right?”

Isaac nodded slowly. “...Yeah. Why? You have information on them?”

Micah smirked. “More than you think. And I’m willin’ to share some of it...” He held up a finger. “For a price, of course.”

The young man wasn’t even surprised. “Of course. And how much are you willing to share?”

Micah shrugged. “That depends on how much you’re paying. Information like this don’t come cheap, boy. If you want somethin’ good, you’ll have to pay good money.”

Isaac was still hesitant to accept the deal. “Makes sense, but how do I know your information’s legitimate? Anyone can claim they know about the Van der Linde gang.”

The outlaw grinned and crossed his arms. “Aren’t you a smart cookie. Well... what if I told you I was one of them?”

The boy froze, uncertain of whether he should take the man seriously. “...You’re just pullin’ my leg now. Why the hell would a Van der Linde talk to me if they knew I was lookin’ for them? How does this benefit you?”

Micah sighed in a melodramatic tone. “It pains me to say it, but our current leader, Dutch van der Linde... let’s just say he ain’t doin’ too good.”

“Speak plainly,” Isaac said. “What d’you mean?”

“He’s ill.” Micah explained. “With what, we don’t know. But he’s withering away with each passing day, and it don’t look like there’s much chance of him getting better. Thing is, though...” he leaned on the doorframe, “he has yet to clarify who’s gonna take his place once he’s gone. And at the moment, he’s got two people in mind. One of ‘em being me.”

It didn’t take long for Isaac to catch on. “So, you want me to get rid of your competition?”

Micah shook his head. “Not yet. First, I wanna see what you’re capable of. I’ll give you the information you need, see if you actually manage to find us, and then I’ll know whether you’re just some yellow-bellied pretty boy, or if you really know how to handle that rifle. Then, we can move on to... other business.”

Isaac considered the offer, admittedly still somewhat hesitant to do business with this man.

As strange as it may’ve seemed, Micah actually sounded like he was being genuine. He spoke about the Van der Lindes as if he actually knew them, and his information had been pretty specific so far. 

The only part that confused Isaac was why he would be so willing to endanger his fellow gang members. It was widely-known that outlaws weren’t the type to practice camaraderie -- Isaac had seen that for himself -- but even this was a new low.

Still, it wasn’t his concern what the Van der Lindes were up to. As long as Micah’s information got him closer to Mackintosh, nothing else truly mattered.

“...Alright,” Isaac finally agreed. “I’ll buy your information, Micah.”

The outlaw smiled slyly. “Glad to hear it. How much you paying?”

The young man quickly thought of an offer. “...Fifteen bucks.”

Micah looked impressed. “Good, but not good enough. How’s about we bump it up to twenty?”

“Seventeen.”

“Eighteen.”

Isaac settled with that. “Done.”

Micah shook his hand, a little too happy about where this was going. 

“Pleasure doin’ business with you, mister. I promise... you won’t regret this.”

[lilibetts]

Sometimes A Girl Just Wants Some...

Falling in love with Riverdale, Theme 2: Spicy

Part 1/3

The 14th of February. A fraught time for the serially single in New Haven, to hear Veronica describe it.

“The end of Cuffing Season is nigh!” she proclaimed, holding an enormous dildo aloft.

(“That’s Colt,” their boss, Zelda Spellman, had explained when she hired Betty, upon seeing the younger woman’s wide-eyed fascination. “He’s a replica of a porn star’s penis. A very popular order, but also a very popular return.”)

In true Veronica Lodge fashion, she didn’t seem the least bit put out by this development. Next to her, Kevin Keller seemed markedly somber, but that was because his own casual boyfriend had ditched him on the very last day of January.

Betty, however, was indifferent in opinion to it all.

From her seat next to their workstation, she held up her pink mug with the penis-shaped handle in a toast. “Cheers, I deleted Findr from my phone,” she announced before taking a gulp of lukewarm coffee.

“Betty!” 

“Betty!” 

Both Veronica and Kevin were aghast.

“It’s barely February. What happened to TwentyTwenty being ‘The Year of Horny Betty’?” asked Kevin.

In her defense, she’d made that New Year’s Resolution last December, after one of those ‘look at your life, look at your choices’ epiphanies that left her life seeming very lacking. The reality of putting herself out there on a matchmaking app and meeting with the rare specimen who didn’t seem completely terrible and who seemed to have an actual body that was not 100% an ugly penis, however, had been nowhere near as exciting as she’d expected.

She was saved by Kevin’s computer chiming. “Sorry, satisfaction waits for no gossip.” He tapped a few keys and answered the incoming call. “Good afternoon and welcome to the Toyz R Us Customer Support Helpline. My name is Kevin. How may I help you today?”

Veronica’s computer chimed too and she pointed an expensively manicured, accusative finger in Betty’s direction. “Don’t think you’re getting away with this!” She hissed before taking the call.

Toyz R Us only had two brick-and-mortar stores, but it did fairly well with online sales in New England. Betty had only taken the job because she needed some extra spending money around the holidays, and she’d stuck with it into the following semester because she liked the new friends she’d made and found the atmosphere surprisingly enjoyable. At least she got to put her writing skills to good use, even if it was for composing informative, yet enticing descriptions of sex toys.

Of course, her parents had no idea she worked here, and if she was careful enough, they never would.

Veronica’s call ended much more quickly once the man on the other end realized she wasn’t Cheryl. Unfortunately, Cheryl Blossom’s brusque and insulting phoneside manner was such a turn-on to a specific subset of men that she really could’ve started her own side hustle and made bank. Ridiculous bank.

“No sir, I can’t tell you how much thicker it will make your penis. We do recommend that if you use a penis pump, you do so regularly and continually,” Kevin advised before tapping a few keys and removing his headset. To Veronica and Betty, he exclaimed. “That idiot just asked me how much bigger the penis pump would make his dick...my god, how would he think we’d know?”

Betty snorted as she stood, penis-mug in hand. 

“Hey!” Kevin called after her. “We weren’t finished!”

“My break time’s over!”

There actually were a few minutes left of her break, but she had a good reason for being sneaky. You see, it might be Valentine’s Day, but it was also a Friday, and Fridays at Toyz R Us meant freebies in the Friday Reject Box. Due to the sheer volume of products that got moved between Christmas and Valentine’s Day, management had provided them with *two* Friday Reject Boxes.

Betty was a college student at heart—if she was going to support her newfound lingerie and sex toy habit, she had to avail herself of cheap and free products whenever possible. 

Carefully sticking her head out around hallway corners, Betty tiptoed around the building like Nancy Drew herself, on the lookout for her coworkers. 

It had taken her about a month of working here before she stopped feeling embarrassed by the products, although she tried to always approach it as any other job...with professionalism.  Still, there was something illicitly thrilling about being twenty years-old and working at Toyz R Us that made Betty feel like a truly independent woman, more so than moving 350 miles away from her hometown.

Betty wasn’t inexperienced, exactly, but she’d been raised a very straitlaced 'good-girl-next-door' and while college had done wonders for her independence and self-affirmation, she still struggled with the idea of discussing sex with her friends/coworkers.

Luckily, she made it to the table holding the Friday Reject Boxes without running into anyone, and Betty wasted no time starting to rifle through them. Hurry, hurry, before anybody else comes and sees you.

In the first one, there was a Fingo Nubby finger vibrator, a very intimidating looking Booty Camp Training Kit that featured three sizes of anal plugs. She didn’t care for the pink crotchless tights but she grabbed the package with the lavender babydoll that had small slits for the nipples and a matching set of panties with an open crotch. That went on the table, and, after assessing the toys in the first box, the Sweetheart Choker and finger vibrator was added to the small but growing pile of goodies. Just the thought of playing with those was already turning her on. With hot cheeks, she turned to the second box.

Since she started working at Toyz R Us, Betty had been exploring her own sexuality, giving more consideration to what actually turned her on and put aside the time to make herself feel good.

She was distracted from the quick nature of her mission when she noticed a stack of dvd cases towards the bottom. “Ooh,” she cooed, intrigued. “The Seduction of Heidi.” That was added to her pile. She skipped The Best of Ron Jeremy and picked up 49 Positions for Lovers, whose cover promised better sex for couples. Well, the way her sex life had been going lately, Betty needed all the help she could get. 

Deciding she had enough, and that she really should be nice enough to leave some things for her coworkers, Betty gathered up her loot and spun around, only to collide with the hard body of the man who had been standing behind her. She yelped and felt a few of her selections spill out of her arms as she nearly stumbled backwards into the table.

Strong arms grabbed ahold of her, righting her, and Betty’s eyes widened when she realized who it was.

“Jughead,” she croaked. “Have you come to look through the Reject Boxes?” 

Jughead Jones was more or less her mentor on the Content team, in some ways her boss. It was him to whom she showed her first product descriptions for approval, him who she worked hard to please. Over the months, they’d gotten to chatting from time to time, and that had been how she found out he was working on writing his first novel.  

Over the weeks, they had shared their personal work—chapters and articles—for the other to comment on. Jughead encouraged her, Betty cheerleaded him. She came to admire him...his intelligence, soul, personality...and she liked to believe he did so for her, as well. He was thoughtful, too, in a way that threw her because none of her boyfriends had been this attentive...it had always been her that listened and took care of people. Jughead turned the temperature up in their office and kept it relatively higher than he was comfortable with because Betty had kept shivering and working with thick cardigans and hoodies on. He remembered how she liked her coffee and made sure their room had a steady supply of scrap paper and colored pens so she could work out word choice and technical phrasing before typing anything up.

One thing was for certain: she was ponytail over heels in lust with him.

She wanted him to do things to her. Things.

Jughead stood there and adjusted his crown beanie ever so slightly. “Uh, yeah, I’ll just…” he trailed off and, to her horror, he bent down to pick up the things she’d just dropped. All she could do was watch as he straightened up and glanced at the educational dvd and the choker before handing them back to her. “Here, Betty.” 

She couldn’t even look him in the eye, so she stood there, intensely aware of the flush climbing up her chest and into her cheeks.

Betty wanted to die.

“Thanks. Uh...I better go get back to work. I’ll see you when your break’s over. Bye!” She couldn’t get away fast enough.

Once she turned the corner, however, Betty did not head back to the Content room. Instead, she slowly craned her head around the corner, just enough to see Jughead as he bent over one of the Friday Reject Boxes. Scarcely daring to breathe, she watched as he quickly grabbed two dvds. Squinting, she recognized them. Scooby-Doo: A XXX Parody, and The Twenty: Self Pleasuring, which featured a bunch of solo female masturbation scenes.

Well.

She knew what tonight’s masturbatory fantasy was going to be about.