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mydearlybeloathed · 1 year

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𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐢𝐦 𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐣𝐫...

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: headcannons pertaining your growing relationship with the trollhunter.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jim lake jr x fem!reader

When you met Jim, it was a normal day of school.

At least, for you it was.

For Jim, he had just been approached by two giant stone creatures telling him that he’s now their protector, and then he was attacked by an evil troll who totally kicked his ass.

But you couldn’t have known that, so it was just a normal school day.

You’d always known he existed, having gone to school with him since Kindergarten.

But you’d never been friends, that was for sure.

A few days before you had signed up to be a history tutor, needing some school approved service hours.

And just your luck, you had a session scheduled with Jim Lake Jr.

He was jittery, that was the first thing you realized. His eyes couldn’t stay focused on one thing for longer than two seconds, always jumping to the window.

You had been reaching for your pencil case, which was in your bag under the table. That was when you noticed his bruised up arms. Frozen in place, you also saw a large gash peeking out from his pant leg, just visible on his ankle.

It wasn’t your place to say anything, you knew. You barely knew Jim! But still… was he is trouble?

The thought distracted you, causing you to hit the back of your head on the underside of the table.

Wincing, you raised your head, spying Jim giving you a concerned look. You found yourself giving him a similar, more extreme stare.

“So… I think we were on the Ottoman Empire in class, right?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t think you could, not without asking. It became too much after an awkward second, and you blurted out the question. “Jim, did somebody hurt you?”

The way his face lost its color sent a shiver down your spine.

He laughed a laugh that was clearly forced—strangled even. “What makes you ask that?”

“Jim… Look at you. You’re all scratched up.”

A thick silence follows your tentative declaration.

“Oh yeah,” he chuckled. “I, uhm, I tried to ride my bike down the side of the canal. It didn’t go so well, as you can see.”

It was a good excuse, you thought, but did you believe it? Not for a second. It took you only a few moments before your eyes narrowed and you scooted your chair closer to his.

Jim thought you looked murderous the longer he was locked in contact with your eyes.

“Was it Steve Palchuk? ‘Cause if it was we need to say something. This is beyond bullying, Jim.”

What was he supposed to say? Oh, nah, don’t worry, Y/N. I was just beaten to near death by a stone giant last night. No biggy.

She’d walk him to an asylum herself.

Apparently, Jim took too long to respond, which to you was an response enough. You scoffed to yourself, shoving back in your seat with crossed arms. “I cannot believe that bitch. He won’t get away with this.”

Jim just fiddled with his pencil, eyes on his textbook. He didn’t know much about Y/N L/N, but he knew she was a force to be reckoned with. Ever since elementary school she’d taken charge in city clean ups, protested in cities as far as D.C., made speeches that changed the minds of Arcadia’s city council and their school board.

When she was mad about something, everyone knew, and she wouldn’t be placated till there was a change.

Jim had to hide his smirk behind his palm; he could just imagine Steve receiving the flame that the girl beside him would unleash.

He had to ask, “What’re you gonna do?”

Your answer was instantaneous. “Talk to him, I think. I know him well enough, us being cousins and all.”

That was a shock for sure.

A day later, Jim was walking into school when he heard the tell tale sound of your voice. He turned the corner, stopping short at the sight before him.

You, at least a head shorter than Steve, had the poor guy gripped by the ear and pulled down to your height. Jim didn’t stick around to listen to what you were saying, seeing the fury all over your face and not wanting either of you to spy him loitering there.

But Jim had to admit, the look of terror on Steve’s face was hilarious.

After that, your tutoring sessions became more and more natural over time. The conversation drifted away from history and toward other things like interests and fun stories.

Not only that, but the time drew on longer till it wasn’t so much a tutoring session as much as it was just two friends hanging out.

It didn’t take long for Jim to realize he enjoyed spending time with you much more than he wanted to.

Much more than he wanted to.

He thinks he realized how much he actually liked you around a few months before everything went to shit.

Jim offered to walk you home when the session dragged on so long that the moon had risen into the sky.

“You don’t live too far from me, I don’t mind.”

It was as they neared your driveway that he caught sight of Blinky from the corner of his eye, shooting fear straight to his heart.

The many-eyed troll was rustling in the bushes, tailing him and you. You were oblivious, going on about the pranks you had planned for the upcoming April Fools Day.

Jim wanted to be listening to you, mostly so he could avoid your schemes, but also because he enjoyed the lightheartedness with which you spoke. It was a nice change from the woe he heard whenever he entered Trollmarket. But he couldn’t give you the focus he wanted with Blinky just seven feet form being spotted.

“Welp,” you sighed. “This is where we part.”

Disappointment was on both of your minds as you smiled at each other.

He managed to hold it together when, after a moment of hesitation, you lurched forward to wrap him in a hug. Surprised, he glanced up over your shoulder to see Blinky giving him four thumbs ups.

He used one arm to hug you back, and the other to flip the troll off.

Being the Trollhunter was dangerous for not only Jim and everyone involved. And as the two of you started to hang out without the pretense of you being his tutor, he swore to himself that you would never find out his secret.

But as you grew closer, it became increasingly difficult to hide anything from you.

You always found his new injuries and scrapes and even once somehow detected his bruised ribs. After a while, you became suspicious, no longer assuming your cousin was behind it.

You didn’t want to assume anything severe, but you had to worry about his home life.

You knew his mother—you’d met Dr. Lake when you ended up sitting together to watch Jim in Romeo and Juliet—and you didn’t get the feeling she would ever get… physical with him. The very thought made you shudder.

If not that, then what was it? Jim didn’t seem the street fighter type. It caused you more worry than you’d like to admit.

Over the past few months of knowing Jim Lake Jr., you think you’d be comfortable calling him your best friend. You two spent nearly everyday talking, whether it was between class or on the phone every once in a while.

And it was obvious to everyone except to you that there was chemistry.

It caused Toby some anguish to say the least.

Speaking of which, you’d grown closer with Jim’s best friend too, something you hadn’t expected.

Toby was a good friend to you, always taking time out of his day to ask about yours, questioning your every “It was fine” and demanding to know what was so “fine” about it. In return, he offered his own tales of misery, getting a laugh out of you nearly every time.

You didn’t notice how he physically grimaced whenever you brushed off his attempts at finding out what you thought about ol’ Jimbo.

Moving on from all of that, to you, things were going great! Your grades could be better, but you had better friends than you’d ever had before. Added to your ranks was Claire Nuñez, and over time… well, you had to admit that you were suspicious.

Jim’s crush on Claire had been ever so obvious ever since the fourth grade, but that wasn’t it (Or rather, you hoped that wasn’t it).

No matter how much you told yourself you were paranoid, you thought the three of them were hiding something.

It hurt to say the least. You were friends… right? Did friends keep secrets?

This was what you thought as you sat alone during lunch, contemplating the way Jim, Toby, and Claire made some poor excuse about having to go to a chess club meeting.

You knew they weren’t a part of the chess club. You were president of the chess club. How did they not know that? Were they that bad at lying? Or did they not care if you knew how much they actually hated you?

…

You were overthinking. They didn’t hate you. Jim certainly didn’t, you think. He was so kind and caring and thoughtful… your cheeks burned red at the thoughts running across your mind… you shook your head, reasoning that there must be an explanation that didn’t involve thier secret vendetta against you.

You just had to find out what it was.

But as they abandoned you more and more for their secret escapades, and as they ditched you to work on group projects alone, and they generally lied time and time again… you grew tired of the confusion.

Your cousin was starting to warm up to you, something about his brutish personality shifting over the course of that school year. He noticed first how you sat alone at lunch, and then he looked around at his table full of kids… and realized he too was alone—in a mental sense, that is.

So he picked up his tray and bag and trudged over to your table in the corner of the lunchroom.

The look of shock on your face didn’t fade away till he was sitting there across from you, and you deduced that he probably wasn’t here to tease you.

The conversation was slow at first, even dull, just small talk, but then he caught sight of the comic book tucked under your lunch tray.

He hesitated, knowing his friends at the other table had made fun of him for liking those sort of things… but you had never done that before. Steve could trust you... probably.

So he asks you about it, and you go into a long winded explanation of it, only for him to interrupt with, “I know what it is… I’ve got the entire set back home.”

You blinked, shocked, and you thought that maybe your cousin Steve wasn’t so terrible after all.

Your friends wanted to ditch you? Fine. You’d make yourself useful and stop being their deadweight. It was somewhat freeing, no matter how much it pained you to sweep past Jim’s sweet smile and ready sandwich (made just how you like it). But it was for the best. You couldn’t stand the way they treated you.

It was only a month after you severed ties with them that you realized how much they’d impacted you.

You no longer found Nougat Nummies that Toby had put in your backpack. You could no longer ask Claire for help with studying. You couldn’t waltz into Jim’s house like you owned the place, hop up onto his counter, and spiel on and on about whatever was on your mind while Jim cooked food around the kitchen.

You might’ve missed that last one more than the other memories.

You might’ve missed Jim more than the others.

And you might’ve liked him a bit too much too.

On Jim’s side, he knew why you’d grown distant. It pained him to keep such a big secret from you, especially when he could see it was hurting you, but what else could he do? Tell you he’s the Trollhunter?

No. Jim would never do that to you. If you knew, then they would find you. You’d wind up hurt. It was bad enough he’d dragged Claire into all this, but you? Jim couldn’t stand the thought of you getting hurt.

He didn’t think about how much not having you in his life would hurt.

Maybe a month goes by, and the two of you get back to a steady rhythm without the other. Unbeknownst to you, your old friends were preparing for war.

How could you know? How could you have prepared? Simple. You couldn’t have.

So that’s why, the night of the school dance, instead of going to that stupid party just to stand alone in the corner, you decided you would be getting your answers.

What spurred this sudden quest? You didn’t know. But you needed to know what you did wrong. What had you done to drive Jim away?

So that’s how you ended up on his doorstep at just the wrong moment.

Before you knocked on the door, you heard crashing and shouting from inside.

Your heart raced. Were you right about Jim being hurt at home. You decided to raise your voice. “Jim?! Jim, are you in there!”

Inside, Jim heard your yells, and a pang of fear swelled up in him.

He stood in armor of glowing silver beside his high school principal, who looked nothing like the lanky man everyone knew him as, yet appeared as a green skinned creature with jagged wings. A changeling.

And across from him was an ancient entity, with eyes blank and voidish, and a smirk that sent shivers down the boys spine. Angor Rot.

The fight had gone still at the sound of your pounding fist against the door. Jim didn’t like the sadistic gleam in Angor’s dark eyes.

“Jim! Open this door! Are you all right?!”

No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

This couldn’t be happening. He’d tried so hard to keep safe, to keep you away from all of this!

He should’ve known better; you weren’t so easily shoved off, and you never knew when to quit.

Angor swept to greet you with Jim hot on his tail, swinging his sword wildly.

He was too late.

A long story short, you were way in over your head with this one.

Being the hostage of a centuries old… thing was so not on your bucket list. Yet, here you were, shaking as Angor Rot held a dagger to your neck. His entire being stenched of age, and you had to hold in your gagging lest it push you forth into the blade.

You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t knwo what was happening. But you knew Jim was there. He was right there, wearing his armor from Romeo and Juliet and wielding the same prop sword that didn’t look so prop-like now.

He was right there, and he was looking at you, and you were looking at him, and you were both terrified.

“Jim,” you whispered, scared that even the slight word would force your skin forth and the knife would slit her neck. “Jim, what’s going on?”

Angor chuckled darkly as he peered down at you. “Ah, that’s right. You have no idea what your friend has been doing in the shadows.”

Your gaze was directed at Jim, your jaw shaky and your eyes wide with confusion. “What–?”

“So, Trollhunter,” Angor seethed. “Shall we risk your flower’s life today?”

You hadn’t been killed, fortunately. It all happened so fast, and all you really remembered was Jim fighting that thing, the changeling happening to be your principal, Dr. Lake in mortal danger, and an underground city of stone creatures.

The same underground city you now sat in, the boy of the hour right beside you. Neither of you had said a word since everything calmed down. It was driving you mad.

You raised your eyes to see Dr. Lake standing nearby, safe now that the battle with Angor was over. Then you swiveled to face Jim, your face screwed up.

“Jim… who are you?”

He didn’t have much of a choice. You’d seen all you’d seen, hurt and fought alongside him despite never lifting a weapon against anyone in all your life. You deserved the truth.

“I’m the Trollhunter.”

It took nearly an hour for him to explain everything, and when it was all said and done, your jaw was hanging open. You now sat on the step below him, looking up at the boy you now knew was so terribly brave. Everything he’d gone through… it nearly made you forgive him.

You’d known Jim Lake Jr. as one thing for months and months, and now it seemed he was something entirely different.

He wasn’t a scared kid who needed you to defend him to your ex-jerk of a cousin. He was strong and held himself with a certain dignity and humility that you envied. Yeah, he was awkward and foolish at times—foolish like when he ditched you just to keep you safe, which you supposed was understandable given that night’s events—but you liked him anyway.

You really liked him, despite all the pain and confusion and this fast turn of events.

He hadn’t changed, you realized as you just stared up at him whilst he awaited what you would say.

He was Jim, the boy you could have called your best friend had anyone asked, and the boy you had slowly harbored a crush on.

It was this thought process that made you lock eyes with him. You didn’t like secrets, and you hated lying. You sucked in a breath and put everything out in the open for him to see.

“I like you, Jim.” The words were harder than you thought. “You don’t have to like me too, I just needed to say it. I want to be your friend no matter what, and I guess I can understand why you’d keep this from me. I just… I need you to know you can trust me.”

There. There it was. A confession, an offer, a pledge. It was everything you needed to say.

And as you forced yourself to keep looking at Jim, you saw his eyes flutter and his jaw hang a bit. You felt slightly nauseous as your words came back to your memory. Had you said something you shouldn’t have?

“You like me?”

It was your time to blink blankly. That was all he got from that? You cracked a grin, not knowing where this was going. “Yeah. I really like you.”

He couldn’t believe it. He thought surely you would hate him, or at the very least never want to see his face again. But you liked him? Even after all that? After all the lies?

You liked him back?

Jim smiled, hand reaching for yours, itching to grab your hand, only for him to pull back at the awkward last second.

You tilted your head, wondering just what you were getting yourself into as you took his hand and gripped it tight.

Trollmarket was in shambles all around. Jim’s mother’s memory was wiped. His principal was a changeling. Enrique was in the Darklands. But you were there, and you were on his side.

Still, he had secrets to keep. Secrets from you, Toby, Claire, Blinky. Everyone.

So as he dropped your hand with a subtle drop to his smile, he thought back to all that had happened, all that had been lost, and all that could be lost in the future.

“I like you too,” said Jim. You didn’t notice how his eyes filled with pain as he excused himself to deal with some Trollhunter business.

You didn’t realize that might’ve been the last time you saw him as he turned away and walked off in a hurry.

How could you have known? You were new to this. You had no clue about the bridge or Enrique or Jim’s promise to Claire.

So when you saw Claire and Toby run by with panicked expressions, you were quick to rush after them. You had no clue what was going on, but you’d always been quick on the uptake.

Jim was going someplace he should not be going alone. He was leaving them all behind to go there. He was going to the Darklands.

You had just gotten him back, and now, he was ditching you again.

Sure, it was meant to be heroic, but you just wanted your best friend to stick around for a little while.

Weeks go by, and you assist in Claire and Toby’s search for a way to save Jim. Eventually you help to free him, somehow managing to survive a short traipse through the Darklands.

It was safe to say you weren’t letting Jim get too out of sight for a time after that, and he wasn’t going to complain.

He never kept anything from you again, admitting it was torture to keep lying to you and keep you at a distance.

Jim often felt so out of touch with the rest of the world, being stuck in the middle of human and troll lives, and it was easy for him to disassociate and just brush everyone off. It was days like those that Jim was glad he had you.

“Jim?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

You’d only sigh, catching the way he kept zoning out, getting lost in his own head. In your opinion, he’d been through too much to be only sixteen. So you took his hand or drew him in for a hug or just slung an arm around him--any of the like would do.

Instantly, his nerves would calm and his attention drawn back to the present.

“You don’t have to be fine, you know.”

He hadn’t known that, not really. Not until he met you.

Those all around you two would notice a distinct change in Jim’s demeanor, so subtle yet so clear. He was somehow softer, which Toby hadn’t thought possible, and the light in his eyes began to spark up again.

His mother was especially grateful, loving the life you brought back into Jim. Blinky adored your very nature. Draal tolerated your eagerness to train with him. Vendel mused your every demanding question.

It wasn’t long before Jim got nervous; you were now one more person he couldn’t stand losing.

But you never let his thoughts run too wild, somehow always one step ahead of his overthinking, ready to put out every doubt and every fear.

“Hey, listen. You’re stuck with me, Lake. Nothing, especially not Bular or Gunmar or any other creep, is ever going to keep me from getting back to you.”

He wasn’t sure how to express just how much you meant to him, so he settled for a watery grin. “Back at you.”

I love you was just a breath away from being spoken into reality, but neither you nor Jim were eager to shove it out there. The fact was there whether it was spoken or not, and the both fo you were well aware of its presence.

#trollhunters #trollhunters tales of arcadia #tales of arcadia #jim lake junior #jim lake jr x reader #jim x reader #guillermo del toro #jim lake jr headcannons #jim lake jr one shot #tales of arcadia headcannons #toa headcanon #tales of arcadia one shot #jim lake jr fluff #toby domzalski #claire nuñez #steve palchuk #blinkous galadrigal

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messedupfan · 1 year

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Chapter 5

Summary: Reader and Wanda hang out together with some of their friends and get to know each other a bit better.

A/N: So sorry for the late chapter but this thing is almost 7k words and it was very difficult to find a stopping point. Chapter 6 is most likely going to be late as well, hopefully I can get back to my schedule. Thank you all for your patience and for reading. I truly appreciate all of you! Enjoy!

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Spending a week in the woods, camping with Rachel, has been a tradition since she could walk. Jean only participated in the first two. After the divorce you weren't sure you wanted to keep the tradition but Jean made a few good points on why you should continue it. Now, years later, it's the best way that you get to bond with Rachel beyond the distracting devices and all of her shows and music. You do your best to keep up with all of it but she is constantly changing. You encourage it, of course. But it's hard to feel connected with your daughter. Except on these trips.

You rent the same spot every year. The two of you build the tent together and make it cozy inside. Then you set up the fire pit and she finds the best spots for the chairs. The two of you make food together over the fire. Tell jokes and scary stories. Remain completely unplugged for the entire trip. At night she snuggles close and you cherish the way she holds you tight because you know there will be a day a few years from now when she won't. She'll be upset with you because you'll be upset with her. Things will get tough, as they do with growing up, and you won't get as many hugs as you do now. And she'll continue to grow up and find her own way in life and her snuggles and these camping trips will be nothing but a distant memory.

Between meals the two of you make up games, talk to each other, and you teach her what you can think of at the moment. The two of you swim in the lake nearby and have fun splashing each other. A dog runs up to her when she’s eating her food and you already know that she's going to start asking for a dog. Luckily, you're able to convince her that she's still too young for one.

All too soon, it's Friday morning and the two of you are packing up the campsite. It's sad putting away the fun week but it's what has to be done. Once your truck is packed up, you hit the road and she's finally able to use her phone again. The entire drive home she is blasting her favorite songs and singing at the top of her lungs. Once you're back in town you're reminded of your plans and at a stop light you message Wanda to see if she's still up for drinks. You don't get a reply until you're pulling up to your apartment building.

Too nervous to check, you unload the car and get Rachel comfortable before you check your messages. I’ll see you at seven? Your shoulders drop from the relief. You call your sister, Kate, and ask if she can babysit for a couple of hours.

“Oh… does someone finally have a date?” She inquires and it makes you roll your eyes.

“No, I'm just grabbing drinks with some friends,” you clarify.

“You’re so boring,” she groans. “Alright, I'll babysit. I don't mind spending some one on one with my favorite niece!”

“She’s your only niece,” you laugh at her enthusiasm.

“Exactly,” she says. “I’d have other favorite nieces, maybe even nephews, but no. You refuse to make anymore.”

“Gross, you do realize that you're upset with me for not getting laid, right?” The line goes quiet and you wonder if she's even there anymore. “Hello? Kate?”

“I’m here, I just had to go scrub my brain with bleach to remove the last few minutes from my memory.” She says nonchalant, as if that was the most normal thing to do. “Anyway, I'll be there in a few. You better leave me some money for food.”

“Of course, I'll see you in a bit. Thank you so much,” you say your goodbyes and hang up. You walk to Rachel’s room and knock on her door and enter once she says you can. “Hey kiddo, aunt Kate is coming over to watch you for a bit. I have something… I mean I will be… uh, I have to do something.” You cringe at how you’re fumbling telling her that you’re going out. Normally, to avoid this, you would plan to do something on a night you don’t have her. But you only have yourself to blame for this.

“Okay, have fun,” she says as she scrolls through her phone.

“Okay,” you almost want to laugh at how easy that was. “Okay,” you repeat yourself. “I’m going to shower so can you let your aunt in if she gets her before I’m out?”

Rachel nods, “Yeah no prob, now go! You don’t want to smell gross for your date.”

“It’s not a date,” you clarify and Rachel mutters something to herself that you can’t decipher but decide you don’t want to know anyway. “Please don't ever grow up,” you say with a smile and she looks up at you with big eyes like her mother.

“I have to someday,” she says seriously and it crushes something in you. As a parent, that is possibly the best and worst response to ever hear. “Now go, please,” she says with a small wave of her hand.

You finally leave her room, closing the door to the point that it's left to a crack. Just to mess with her a little. Then you head to the shower because you haven't had a proper one in several days. Your daughter is right, you do smell pretty gross. When you step out you hear your sister and Rachel laughing at something playing on the television. You finish getting dressed and when you walk out with a smile to greet the two girls they look up at you with horror.

“What?” You ask as you look at your t-shirt and jeans. Your usual attire.

“Is that what you're wearing?” Kate asks as she slowly eats the popcorn from the bowl between her and Rachel.

“Yeah, why? What's wrong with it?” You laugh at their judgmental eyes.

“Nothing, it's just so… you,” Kate replies with disgust.

“That’s a bad thing?”

“No,” she pauses as she continues to look you up and down. “It’s just not a good thing.”

You shake your head with a laugh, “Gee thanks, little sis. But it's nothing to get bent out of shape over. It's just drinks with some friends. I highly doubt Steve or Phil are going to have anything to say about my outfit.” You grab your jacket and put it on despite Kate's commentary about not wearing it. “What? I checked the weather. It might rain tonight.”

“I’m sorry, Rach. You’re not going to get another step-mom anytime soon,” Kate says.

Rachel is hardly paying attention to the conversation anymore so when her aunt speaks to her it takes a moment for her to respond. She shrugs, “It’s okay, Ms. Wanda likes their work uniform. She won’t mind this, I guess. I just thought she deserved better from them.”

“Oh, she has a name? And she knows Rachel?” Kate says in surprise, happy to be getting the good details now. “This must be serious.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose as you shake your head. “No, it’s not. I’m not dating anyone, Kate. Stop encouraging this kind of behavior.” You say, frustrated from having to repeat yourself constantly. You never liked this kind of teasing. It makes you uncomfortable and feel like you have something to prove. Besides, it's not fair to the other person who can't defend themselves. You grab your wallet, phone, and keys. “I don't have cash on me so I’ll send you the money for dinner. Thank you for watching her.” You say as you get a text from Wanda that she's already at the bar and sends you her location to double check that it's the right one. You send her a thumbs up. “I’ll be right around the corner so if there's any kind of emergency do not hesitate to call. Okay?”

“Of course,” Kate says. She hands Rachel the bowl of popcorn and gets off the couch. She stands in front of you and pulls you in for a hug. “I’m sorry, I know I tease you a lot but… I just want you to be happy.”

You hold your sister for a second and pull away and smile at her. “I am happy, kiddo. You don't need to be in a relationship to find happiness.”

She pats your check with a fake expression of pity. “Oh, you are so single. It's sad.”

You shake your head with a hearty laugh. “Whatever, weirdo.” You step away from her and go to join Rachel on the couch to give your daughter a hug. “I love you, nugget. I'll see you in the morning.”

“Morning? You’re going to be out all night?” She asks in surprise.

“No, sweetheart. You’ll be in bed by the time I come home.” You tell her with a soft laugh. “I’ll be back here tonight and will be making your favorite breakfast in the morning. Don’t worry.” You tap your finger to her nose and she scrunches her face with a giggle.

“Okay, have fun!” She gives you one last side hug, careful to not spill the bowl of popcorn.

Finally, you leave the apartment building and walk a few blocks down to your favorite bar. You used to work there when you turned twenty-one and learned many skills that you don’t use anymore unless it’s to try and impress someone you’re interested in. Especially since the owner has a soft spot for some of his former employees and will let you behind the bar to let you do a trick or two.

Walking inside The Hub you grow nervous because this will be the first time you and Wanda intentionally hang out together. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to talk about. What if there is nothing to talk about? How are you supposed to continue to go to her house and eat her food if she hates you after this? Steve is sitting at the bar talking with Phil. You met Steve when working here, he was the one who trained you in mixology.

Steve served in the military before you met him here. His usual story is that he only enlisted because he didn’t have a direction at eighteen and needed something to help him make good money early in life. The real story is that he spent the majority of his life training to be in the military. His entire family is in the military, it was all he knew. But once he was actually in battle he realized that life wasn’t for him. When he finished his six year commitment to the Marines, he didn’t renew his contract and hasn’t spoken to his family because of it. To say they didn’t approve would be an understatement.

“Rogers!” You greet him happily. You do a quick handshake and pull each other into a half hug. “It’s been a while, I’m glad you could make it out.” You sit next to him.

“I’ve been good, Peggy and I just got a place together,” he says with a grin as he takes a sip from his beer.

“That’s awesome man,” you congratulate him.

“Wow, it’s like I don’t exist,” Phil says as he sets a glass down in front of you and pours your favorite drink for you.

“I was going to get to you,” you laugh at his impatience. “How’s it been, Coulson? The place looks busy. I can’t even find the person I invited out.” You look around to find Wanda and her friend but have no luck from where you’re sitting.

“Yeah, business has been good,” he says with a frown as he throws his rag over his shoulder.

“Why does that sound like it's a bad thing for you?” Steve picks up on the bar owner's mood.

Phil leans on the bar and sighs. “My daughter is home for the summer and she needed a job but no one was willing to hire her so I thought what’s the worst that could happen? Turns out, it’s this.” He points to the crowd of guys that keep looking over at the bar to catch a glimpse of Phil’s daughter and you laugh as you realize that the ratio of males to females is not what you’re used to at this place.

“Where is she?” Steve asks and you nudge him as you shake your head. “What? I just want to see her. It’s been a while. Geez, I’m in a committed relationship, Y/n.”

Phil looks at Steve, “No one is seeing my daughter tonight. She isn’t scheduled to come in. I’ve made sure to give her all Friday’s to Sunday’s off.” He says proudly. You point out the room full of customers that don’t know and he laughs. “I’m not going to tell them that. I still need to keep this business afloat.” You nod with a smile as someone comes up from behind him and you recognize her from the photos that Phil has in his office. She is much more mature now than she is in those photos and you can see why she draws in a crowd. You clear your throat to get Phil’s attention and point her out to him. He spins around. “Daisy! I gave you the day off! Why are you here?”

“Calm down, Grant asked me to cover his shift. Besides, these are the busiest nights and I can make great tips,” she explains as she ties her apron on. Her and Phil have a quiet argument and you and Steve watch in amusement.

As guys come to crowd the bar you and Steve step away and you are reminded why you’re there in the first place. She is across the room, sitting in a booth in the corner chatting with her friend. Wanda looks up and the two of you make eye contact and you smile as you grab Steve’s attention. A soft blush warms her cheeks and she looks away from you. “There she is,” you tell him. Steve isn’t sure who you’re looking at so he lets you lead the way. You join her and her friend in the round booth. “I’m sorry it took so long to find you. This place isn’t usually this busy. Believe me, I used to make the worst tips here.”

Wanda laughs, “Okay, I’ll just have to take your word for it.” The two of you stare at each other for a moment. Not sure how to act around each other in this setting. She takes a drink from her cup and points to her friend. “This is my best friend, Carol Danvers. She’s in the Air Force.” You reach your hand across the table to introduce yourself, mentioning that it was an honor to meet her.

“An honor?” Steve scoffs in offense. “I served six years and you never said it was an honor to meet me.”

“That’s because you’re a nightmare,” you retort.

“I will have you know, I am a delight,” Steve defends himself. “I’m Steve Rogers by the way.” He offers his hand to Wanda first then Carol. “I know, it's an honor to meet me.” The girls laugh at his joke and you shake your head.

You turn to Wanda, “I’m sorry about him. Now you can see why I'm in search of some new friends.”

Wanda nods with her eyebrows raised, “I won't lie, I half expected you to bring Rachel's mom or my brother.” She admits in a laugh. “So, how'd the two of you meet?”

“Here,” you state as you sip your beverage. “We used to work together here.” You tip your glass to her friend who is engrossed in a conversation with Steve about basic training and sharing war stories. “How did the two of you meet?”

Wanda looks at Carol and then looks back at you. “We met at a party in high school,” she shrugs. “We didn't go to the same school, we just knew a few of the same people and became friends that way.”

“Oh that's cool. Which high school did you attend?” Wanda tells you about the high school she attended in another state. Then she goes into how she made her way out here. That she got into the university here and that's where she met Vision. How she got into architecture. She talks about how her parents weren’t ever married and that her father moved out here when she was in middle school. Which is part of what influenced her choice in university. Explains how Pietro followed along shortly after and worked under their father to prepare to take over the construction business for him.

Before she can continue on with her life story, Daisy comes over to the table with a notepad and a few menus. “So my dad is having a bitch fit and now I'm your personal server tonight. Here,” she tosses the menus onto the middle of the table. “I will be back every five minutes. Go.” She walks away and you laugh.

“The service is wonderful here,” Carol says sarcastically.

“Oh yeah, definitely employee of the month,” Wanda chimes in and the two women share a look before laughing at each other. Steve makes a funny face to you and you shrug because you have no clue what their inside joke is. Wanda grabs a menu and turns to you. “What would you recommend?”

“The loaded nachos and that’s it,” Steve cuts into the conversation.

You nod, “Yeah, that’s the only thing that doesn’t go in the toaster oven.”

“A toaster oven?” Wanda scoffs at the idea that an establishment would be allowed to get away with such a thing. But you nod, not showing any sign of the information being a joke. “Wow, okay. Loaded nachos then.”

“My goodness! There you two are!” A woman says as she gets close to the booth. “I have been to three bars looking for you guys. What are we doing here?” She slides in next to you on the booth and she gives you a flirty smile. “Oh, hello,” she winks at you then she leans on the table to talk directly to Wanda. “Now I know why you were ignoring my texts.” She returns her attention to you, “Tell me cutie, are you single?”

Wanda bursts out laughing at your uncomfortable expression as the strange woman strokes your arm. “Agatha, pump the brakes. This is the friend I told you about.”

Agatha stops trying to flirt with you and her eyes widen. “Oh! You’re them! Oh, honey why didn’t you say anything,” She swats your shoulder as she lets out a boisterous laugh. Agatha holds her hand out to you, “Agatha Harkness, pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

You accept her hand and shake it quickly before dropping it. “Nice to meet you as well, I’m Y/n.”

“Oh honey, I know who you are.” She directs her next words to Wanda. “You told me they were cute but you didn’t say they were hot!”

You look at Wanda with raised eyebrows and a teasing smirk. “Yeah, explain yourself, Wanda.”

Wanda opens and closes her mouth as she blushes. She knew she shouldn’t have used any sort of compliment as a descriptor. “I never said Y/n is cute.” She says as she points her finger at Agatha.

“Right, you didn’t say cute,” Agatha gives her a big wink.

“If it evens the score, Y/n told me that Wanda is very pretty,” Phil chimes in as he comes over with a tray of drinks. You had told him the kind of drink you wanted Wanda to try when you texted him earlier about being here. He said that he’d have them ready once you lasted more than ten minutes at the table with her. “If you ask me, Y/n is a little smitten.”

You shake your head, “It’s a good thing no one asked you then.” Steve makes an ooh sound, Carol laughs and Wanda appears a little impressed. “Thank you, Phil. I appreciate everything you do.” You rush out with an apologetic smile.

“You’re lucky I know you,” he says after he clears the tray. “Otherwise I’d pay Steve here to throw you out of here.”

“Oh please, you wouldn’t have to pay me.” Steve says as he grabs his glass, “I’d gladly do it for free.”

You nod your head, “Yup, these are the people I call my friends.”

The two men laugh and Daisy returns to the table. “Know what you want yet?” She asks with her notepad and pen ready.

“Two orders of loaded nachos please,” Steve says. “And a side order of your number,” he winks. Phil smacks the back of Steve’s head. “Ow! I was joking!”

“Behave, I won’t tell you twice,” Phil says unamused while the rest of you try to not laugh.

Steve salutes him, and then looks at Daisy. “I’m sorry, we’ll just have the nachos, please.”

The night continues like that, with humorous bits and teasing. Daisy returns every few minutes to check on the table and you order a couple rounds of shots that you want Wanda to try. You watch her to see if she likes them and when she makes a comment about how you know good drinks Steve points out that you have a home court advantage. To which Carol suggests a change in venue for an even playing field. You pay for the nachos and some of the drinks as Wanda refuses to let you cover the entire bill.

As you’re leaving The Hub, Daisy pulls you aside while everyone else walks out. You look at her confused and she writes her phone number on a paper in the notepad. She rips it out and slips it in your pocket with a sultry, “Call me.” You find the gesture to be a little funny but you don’t reject her right there. You figure that you’ll probably never use the number. Out of respect to her father and to her. You thank her and walk out the door to catch up with your group.

As they’re walking Wanda thinks of something to ask you and turns around only to find you missing from the group. She looks around and sees the interaction between you and Daisy through the window. Her eyes widen when she sees the girl stick her fingers in your front pocket. She feels a pang of jealousy but she isn’t sure that’s exactly what she is feeling. Maybe she was feeling off from all of the alcohol they were mixing. Why would she be jealous of you getting some girl's number? You seemed close with her father, so you could be receiving that number for any reason. And yet, she couldn’t shake the fact that seeing that intimate interaction bothered her. When you appear in front of her asking where the five of you are headed off to next, she has to snap herself out of her head. She shrugs because she was so focused on herself that she wasn’t paying attention to the rest of them.

Steve points to a place a few buildings down that the group of five make agree to and their way over. This place was more of a nightclub and there is a crazy long line to get inside which you were completely fine with. It gave you some time to talk with Wanda while waiting. She asked you a lot of questions this time, to get to learn more about you. All you talk about is how you’re from this city and go into the details of your family. How you didn’t like being a child of a bitter divorce and that you wanted better for your daughter. Then you talk about the different types of jobs you’ve had since you were fifteen. And you reveal how you’re working towards a business degree at the community college because you’ve always wanted to start your own handmade furniture business. Steve hypes up your work when he overhears that part of the conversation. You awkwardly thank him and next thing you know, the five of you are inside the club.

Once inside, you hate it immediately. The music is loud making it difficult to hear. It’s hot and the air is thin. It was hard to breathe in anything other than the aroma of alcohol and the smell of other people’s sweat. The place is full and cramped with sweaty bodies knocking into or grinding on each other which makes it hard to stick together. The flashing and rapidly moving lights are unpleasant and difficult to see through. Wanda grabs the collar of your shirt and roughly pulls you close so that you can hear her, “Can we leave?”

You nod without hesitation and turn around to tell the rest of them that it’s time to go but Carol, Agatha, and Steve have disappeared in the crowd. Wanda grabs onto your jacket with a tight grip so she doesn’t lose you while you search for the other three. You spot Agatha first, she is grinning as she dances provocatively with some random man. Next you spot Carol smiling at a woman as she leans against the bar. Lastly, you find Steve getting excited about spotting a group of guys he recognizes. It’s as if those three were in this place for longer than a few minutes and made themselves very comfortable in the environment.

You wrap your arm around Wanda’s waist to pull her close to talk, “I think we’re just going to have to wait outside for them.” Wanda nods and agrees telling you that she just wants to get out. You guide her through the many bodies that are colliding together as they dance to the booming music until the two of you are finally outside. “Oh my goodness I never thought I was going to breathe fresh air again!” You exaggerate once you’re free.

Wanda laughs, “Oh man I had no idea that’s what those were like! I don’t really see the appeal of a place like that!”

“We’re not drunk enough to enjoy it,” you shrug.

“I guess not,” Wanda looks at you. “Were you a person that could handle a club like that?”

You look back at the building and know that there are photos of you in that place somewhere online so there was no point in lying, it was a part of your life that you’re not proud of but a part no less. You nod, “Before my divorce, no way. I was a full-time parent and spouse. After my divorce however…” you drag out as you’re not sure how else to put it. Wanda nods in understanding but you feel like you still have to explain yourself. “Those first few weeks with no family to come home to were so lonely. I’m sure you know how it is. That quiet and isolation is so suffocating. So, yeah, I lost myself in a place like this.” You think back on that time and your reaction to going into that place back then is very different from how you reacted just now. “It’s been a while though and honestly, I cannot tell you how I did it. I don’t know how they’re doing it now!”

Wanda laughs in agreement, “I guess it’s fun for some people. A nightmare for others. And an escape for those who need it.”

“That’s an interesting observation,” you say. “Did you ever do stuff like this before having the boys?”

Wanda makes a face and looks back at the building then back to you, “No,” she drags the word out.“It always seemed like my worst nightmare and well… I was right.”

You nod, “Yeah, it doesn't seem like your kind of thing. Sorry about that, I probably should have shut this idea down.”

“Don't be, I could have said something, I mean we were waiting in line for like an hour. I was curious and now I'm not.” She says with a shrug. Wanda looks around the street and spots another bar with a calmer setting that also has an outdoor option. “Want to go there?” She points it out and you look it over a bit. If you get a spot close to the railing, Steve and the girls will be able to see the two of you from the club when they exit.

“Sure,” you offer your elbow for her to take. Wanda accepts it and makes a comment about chivalry and you laugh. The two of you cross the street and enter the establishment. It’s the type of place where you have to wait to be seated. So you tell the hostess two for outside and she grabs a couple menus and leads you to the empty corner table you had spotted from the club. You thank her and pull the chair out for Wanda, she looks at you funny. “What? You’re the one who said chivalry wasn’t dead. I have to continue to keep it alive.”

“That’s too bad,” she pulls the other chair out, “because now it’s my turn.” She pats the back of the chair, “Have a seat, Y/n.” You look at the gesture and happily accept it. Wanda walks around to claim her seat, “There, now we’re even.”

“Are we? I wasn’t keeping score,” you open the menu and start to look it over. You have only been here a couple of times and are still relatively unfamiliar with what they carry.

Wanda sits there and stares at you for a moment as read the menu. Not knowing the impact your words had on her. Most of her life has been an ongoing score board. If someone did something nice for her she made certain to do something even nicer, expecting them to do something in return. That’s just how relationships and friendships seemed to happen in her life. It wasn’t until halfway through her marriage with Vision that she realized that behavior wasn’t exclusive to good deeds. The amount of bad things they did to each other until the end of it when Vision won and continues to win… Cracks are starting to break through the rose colored lenses.

“Can I get you two anything to drink to start?” A handsome waiter with a winning smile asks, breaking Wanda out of her thoughts. You tell him that you’re going to have a glass of water and one of the local IPA’s. “And for the pretty lady?” The man doesn’t hide that he is checking her out and though Wanda is flattered by the attention, she wasn’t comfortable with it being from him.

“I’ll just have water,” she says shyly.

“Actually, cancel the IPA, I’ll just have the water,” you change your order. You don’t want to be drinking anymore alcohol if Wanda is stopping. “And I’ll add an order of the grilled bread and good olive oil.” You notice that the waiter isn’t taking his eyes off of Wanda and you notice how she seems to shrink under his gaze. “Would you like another appetizer, honey?” you clear your throat as you ask. Not comfortable with using the term of endearment. Wanda sits up as it sounds foreign from you but she notices that the waiter has finally stopped looking at her.

“Oh um, yeah, babe, you know what I like,” she tries her best to play along as she looks over the appetizers. “You’re so silly, you know that I like the-the… oh! White truffle garlic bread. That’s what I’ll have. For us,” she reaches across the table for your hand, “to share.” You bite your lips to keep from laughing as you nod and throw in a wink.

“Will that be all for now?” The man’s flirty demeanor has changed to a more professional one and you know that although the both of you are horrible at pretending, you’ve been able to pull it off.

“Yes, that’s all for now, thank you,” you say politely. He walks away and once he’s gone, you can’t help but laugh a little. “Oh I think we hurt his feelings.”

Wanda smiles and hums, “That’s what he gets for being creepy.” She removes her hand from yours. “Thank you for that, by the way.”

You wave her gratitude off, “It’s nothing. He should be focused on his job and not making his customers uncomfortable.”

Wanda crosses her arms and leans on the table, “Did you ever pick anyone up when you were a bartender?”

You laugh and shake your head, “No, I was still married when I started the job and then I was enjoying being out of a relationship when the divorce happened. I got to learn a lot about myself in that time.”

“Have you dated since your divorce?”

“I have been on a few dates. But I haven’t committed to a relationship since Jean,” you admit. “And it’s not because I still have feelings for her. Things between us ended for a reason and we’re still friends. That’s what we were always meant to be. But I haven’t met someone that I could introduce to her.”

Wanda makes a face, “What do you mean by that?”

“Well, when she started dating, she kind of made up a system to weed out the people she wasn’t sure if they would work out or not. If she didn’t think she could introduce them to me without a doubt that I would be comfortable with them being around Rachel, then she wouldn’t pursue it. Now she’s happily married to the woman of her dreams,” you elaborate.

“Huh,” Wanda says. The waiter returns with a pitcher of water to fill two glasses and the two plates of appetizers. When he disappears she continues the conversation. “I’ll probably be single forever then,” she says before she drinks her water.

You laugh as you chew on the bread, “Oh yeah, that system is not designed for people like Vision.”

Wanda shakes her head, “Nope. I’m sure he already has a file of every bad thing you’ve ever done prepared for drop off on Sunday.”

“Oh gosh, so you’re saying I shouldn’t have accepted that follow request from hotgurl69?” You say with a smirk.

Wanda stops chewing and stares at you with uncertainty, “You’re joking.”

“No, I’m not,” you grin as you pull out your phone to show her the obviously fake account that followed you during the week. It had a couple of posts of an objectively attractive woman but not someone that is your type. You hand it to Wanda and she shakes her head in disbelief as she looks it over. “I didn’t actually allow the account to follow me but oh that was something to see when I got back.”

“He is a nutjob,” Wanda says under her breath. She blocks the account just for her sanity. “I am so sorry about that,” she returns your phone to you. “That’s ridiculous, he is such a child.”

“There you guys are!” Carol says with a girl under her arm. “These are my friends. That’s Wanda and that’s… Wait. What’s your name again?” She points to you and you smile as you introduce yourself to the girl.

“Hi, I’m Maria Rambeau,” she says with a grin. “It’s nice to meet you guys!”

“Likewise,” Wanda smiles.

“We’re about to head out, I just thought I’d tell you so you didn’t assume the worst. Also, Agatha went home with some Ralph guy. I don’t know. But have fun,” Carol waves as she walks away fast so that Wanda can’t convince her to stay. You and Wanda laugh as the group has gone their separate ways for the night.

You look at your phone to send a message, “I should probably check on Steve and oh! His girlfriend had an emergency and he went home.” You close the phone and put it in your pocket. “I guess it’s just you and me, that is unless you’re ready to go home.”

Wanda looks at the half eaten bread on the table, then to the busy street full of people walking by and businesses that are alive, and then at you. Smiling at her with kind eyes that make her feel special. Eyes that make her nervous in the best possible ways. “No, I’m okay to stay a little longer,” is what she wants to say. But she isn’t sure what would happen if she did stay. How would the night end with just the two of you past this point? Would the two of you go on a stroll and continue to talk? Will there be a moment where the two of you get swept up by some romantic setting and she does something stupid like kiss you? She doesn’t want to risk this growing friendship for something so silly. Besides, you and her brother will be at her house tomorrow fixing her wall. She has already looked foolish in front of you plenty of times in the few weeks that you’ve known each other. She doesn’t need to add to that list tonight.

“Actually, I am a bit tired. Knowing Pietro, I’ll be waking up at six in the morning to let him in,” Wanda explains. “This was really nice, thank you for inviting me out. I haven’t had the courage to do something like this in a while. We should do it again sometime.”

“Yeah, and hopefully something that keeps everyone interested and engaged,” you reply. “I’ll cover the bill, we don’t want to give prince charming over there any reason to make some move on you because I can’t pay for your meal,” you say as you pull out your card.

“Ah well, it’s only appetizers,” she remarks. “If I were him, I’d probably say something about the lack of a three course meal.”

“Oh, no worries,” you say as you wave the waiter over. “I’m two steps ahead of you.” The waiter approaches and you ask for the bill. He makes a face stating that you’ve only ordered appetizers. “Yeah, we got a call from the sitter,” you start and glance at Wanda to see her start to smile. “Six kids is a lot to handle for one person. We rarely ever get to have an uninterrupted evening like this,” you lie easily and Wanda tries to hide her amusement.

“Yeah,” she adds with a disappointed sigh, “And can you believe we’re expecting seven and eight?” She reaches across the table again for your hand and squeezes it with excitement.

The waiter's eyes widen, “Wow uh, congratulations! You could never tell. Since this was a celebration, you know what, the meal is on the house.” You are surprised and insist on paying but he clears the table and allows you and Wanda to leave without paying.

The two of you walk to the end of the street where you’re headed in opposite directions. “My apartment is that way,” you point to the building you’ve called home for the past year and a half. Wanda nods as she makes a comment about the building looking nice. Then she turns and points to the parking garage where she parked her car. “I will see you tomorrow then,” you say awkwardly, not really sure how to end the night.

“Tomorrow,” she repeats, “Goodnight, Y/n.” Wanda walks away and you head home after bidding her a goodnight as well.

When you walk in, the place is quiet other than the soft volume of the television that Kate is watching. “So? How’d it go?” she asks in a whisper.

You shrug as you remove your jacket, “It was fun. Her friends ended up finding people to go home with and Steve had to head back to Peggy. Wanda and I got to spend some time alone and it was nice. Plus, do you remember Daisy? Phil’s daughter?” You are sitting next to your sister on the couch now. Kate nods as the name rings a bell. “Well she’s home from school and she gave me her number.”

“Oh, she has had a crush on you forever,” Kate admits.

You make a face, “Really?” You don’t want to believe your sister, especially not since she is constantly making comments on your lack of a love life. But it does explain why she made the move on you when you hadn’t shown any interest in her all night. “Oh well, I’m not going to call her anyway.”

“Why not? Things go well with Wanda?” She tries to see if you’ll admit that there is anything more than friendship between you and Wanda and you roll your eyes at her attempt.

“You’re insufferable, you know?” Kate shrugs and asks again why you’re not going to use Daisy’s number. “One, it’s none of your business and two she’s Phil’s daughter. That’s weird, I consider him a friend. I can’t just date his little girl without him knowing. Then I can’t end things with her if he does. It’s way too complicated.”

“Is it? Or are you making it complicated?” Kate challenges and not having the energy to even try to argue with her, you get off the couch.

“I’m going to bed. You know how to use the pull out,” you walk to your room. “Goodnight,” you call out to her behind you.

Chapter 6

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#wanda maximoff #fanfiction #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda x you #wanda fanfic #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x gender neutral reader #carol danvers #steve rogers #daisy johnson #phil coulson #maria rambeau #kate bishop

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moonshine-nightlight · 9 months

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2024 Writing - Plans

similar to last year, i wanted to post a little look forward at my plans for writing this year are. the necessary disclaimer: this is 100% high level, optimistic, ideal situation and subject to change but i still like thinking about it and posting for anyone who's interested. see this post for last years!

so, i like separating things out it mini goals/sections so see below:

Nothing's Wrong with Dale: with DSM self-published under my belt, I'd like to focus on the NWWD publishing journey next! The main obstacles/costs are time and money. Hiring an editor and a cover artist are the pricey-est part of the process but my own edit (first to convert everything from 2nd POV to 3rd POV and then another high-level edit/revise once i've got it in the right POV) will take the most time and needs to be done before i hand it over to an editor. Then after the editor takes their time (and NWWD is much longer than DSM), and finally i need to process all of their edits as well. And i need to do all of this while i do my day job lol.

i've already converted the first 11 chapters to 3rd POV (i hav some IRL friends/betas who only read that version, so if u feel like the tumblr version took a lot of time lol). the timing of being able to publish this year will all end up depending on how quickly i can do all that and kick off the part of the process that depends on outside parties. Even if i manage to self-publish in this year, i don't expect it to come out until lik December and even that's ideal, super best case scenario.

Long Stories: I want to outline both A Perfectly Ordinary Research Position and Shadow Diplomacy and then pick one to be the new long story on here. I do what i call a chapter outline and a scene outline, which is confusing to not!me because the scene = a chapter on here. i should probably rename that process lol. (NWWD was 11 'chapters' and 35 'scenes' for reference).

once i pick a project, i just hope to post as many chapters as i can. Since this will be new, long, and likely just building steam, i actually think it'll be my lower priority after the Short Stories and NWWD publishing, but we'll see. i'd like to start putting that up in June, according to my tentative 2024 schedule.

Short Stories: Since i didn't get as many of these done in 2023 and they've been haunting my brain longer, i want to for sure get some of these shorter stories done. learning from last years overestimation lol, i plan to post 3 short stories: Courtship Confusion, Feral, and finish Free Piano: Haunted, in that order. i'm excited about all these stories and will let me cover 3 different types of pairings (although technically all are Reader) which is fun. All have been outlined and have parts and pieces written. I wish Feral and FPH could both happen in the fall but the timing just doesnt work out so summers gonna b a little spooky lol.

The schedule i worked out makes it so all this will be possible, but also basically has no breaks in sunday postings after my haitus which is beyond optimistic but i lik to start overly confident lol

Hiatus: this is also your reminder that my work has a specific Busy Season which honestly started already (lucky me) and i will b beyond busy Jan-March at a minimum. i hav more projects than ever with my promotion, a lot to learn, and a lot to juggle so minimum 6 day work weeks will be the name of the game - but hopefully all goes well and i'll get a nice bonus i can feed directly to my editors lol

anyway, that's where i'm at right now and I'm looking forward to all the exciting writing and publishing to come in 2024!

Feel free to send in any asks about upcoming/current stories!

Thanks again for all your support in 2023 and Happy New Year!

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rosie-b · 10 months

Text

True Blue

Chapter 11: Going for Gold (in the bad luck tournament)

“You’ve decoded the Grimoire?”

Marinette’s face grew warm as she tried to explain. “No, no, but I looked at the pictures in it and I think I managed to isolate the ingredients for a possible cure. M. Agreste didn’t want me to, so please don’t tell him,” she begged.

Nathalie sat down. “But you managed to figure out a solution? How? Listen, I won’t tell M. Agreste, but it’s very important that you tell me exactly what you’ve been doing. I might be able to help you.”

You can read the rest on AO3 or below!

It was becoming painfully clear that making potions wasn’t Marinette’s strong suit.

She’d made several different versions of the rock/gold/feather mixture she’d finally determined was what the Grimoire’s pictures hinted to on several different days. She didn’t exactly have the right ingredients, but then, she couldn’t tell what those were without a written translation of the book. Instead, she’d tried mixing chalk dust or tiny pebbles, gold-colored links from old bracelets, and ground-up pigeon feathers in various combinations.

So far none of her mixtures seemed to have worked, not that she’d had a real way to test them other than spooning a tiny amount into a vial necklace, wearing it all day, and seeing if it did anything to alleviate her symptoms. Which it didn’t.

Marinette wasn’t going to give up! It was just... well, her methodology needed to change. If wearing her hodgepodge brews in a vial necklace wouldn’t work, then maybe ingesting the potions would.

There was only one problem with that theory: Marinette did not want to ingest ground rocks, gold, or feathers. Maybe it worked for the witches of the past, but it just didn’t seem healthy to her modern sensibility.

Well, maybe she could ask M. Agreste for the proper ingredients and get the potion to work that way!

But he hadn’t been exactly supportive of her idea when she’d introduced it to him, and she didn’t want to upset him by insinuating that she knew more about the Miraculous than he did.

Still, he had access to resources (like money) that she did not, and without his help, she honestly doubted that she would ever get her hands on meteorite dust, molten gold, or a peacock feather (although come to think of it, she could always steal one from the zoo).

It was with this storm of nervous thoughts in her head that Marinette made her way into the Agreste mansion on Friday. Nathalie gave her the three pills she took every morning, and Marinette downed them without hesitation. She was used to the routine by now, and though it helped less every day, she was grateful to M. Agreste for his generosity in doing what he could to offer a cure.

“Marinette,” a voice called, faint and far-off to Marinette’s ears. “Marinette,” the voice called again, and she looked up from the dark wood of the desk.

“Hmm?” she asked pleasurably.

Nathalie sighed. “I asked if you were feeling good enough to help M. Agreste with another akuma today. He’s tentatively scheduling it for an hour before Adrien comes back from school.”

Marinette squinted her eyes to keep Nathalie’s features from swimming together like a Picasso painting. “That sounds fine. You know I don’t have any reason to say no to helping.”

Setting her tablet down, Nathalie looked closely at Marinette. “Maybe you’ve committed to helping M. Agreste, but you don’t need to do it at the expense of your health. You aren’t getting better, Marinette. You’ve been getting worse — don’t bother denying it. Don’t feel like you need to be in every fight, either; an irregular schedule keeps Golden Bug and Chat Grise on their feet. I can tell M. Agreste that you need more time to catch up on schoolwork, so you don’t need to worry about upsetting him, if that’s what’s keeping you.”

I wouldn’t be getting worse if I could just get the cure to work, Marinette thought.

It must have been out loud, if Nathalie’s face was anything to go off of.

“You’ve decoded the Grimoire?”

Marinette stared. Was Ms. Sancoeur lying to try to get some kind of confession from her? Was she going to be fired and summarily banned from ever talking to Adrien again for this?

Nathalie held her gaze patiently, looking truly concerned about Marinette’s attempts.

“Fine, I’ll tell you,” Marinette decided. “The ingredients are meteorite dust, molten gold, and an element from the animal represented by the kwami of the broken Miraculous; in this case, that’s a peacock feather. Since I don’t have any of those three things, I’ve been using substitutions. I ground them up, mixed them into a potion, and put them into this vial necklace. I wore it for days and tried different mixtures, but it hasn’t helped. I’m afraid that M. Agreste was right, after all.”

“If you haven’t been using the right ingredients, then we can’t make that jump just yet. M. Agreste and I,” she said, and her voice trembled ever so slightly, “We’ve been trying to find a solution ever since Emilie fell ill. Any idea is a breakthrough worth considering and testing in full. If you could prove your hypothesis to M. Agreste, it would do more than guarantee your health. It could heal Emilie and remove our need for the other Miraculous! You would win the fight without throwing a punch. Well,” she snorted, “With a few punches. But I do think that this is the best possible outcome.”

Marinette hesitated. “Really?”

She wasn’t ready to take hope back into her heart yet. M. Agreste had been against her idea, and he had had a good reason for it. Who was she, a girl who’d only recently learned about the Miraculous’ existence, to advise Hawk Moth himself? To go against the wisdom of a man who had spent years in search of a cure for his beloved wife and son?

But Nathalie, though she’d just looked more excited and energetic than Marinette had ever seen her before, looked solemn as she nodded. “Really. We’ll keep it a secret from M. Agreste for now, but I will provide you with the ingredients and we’ll finish making the cure. Then we can decide if it was a fool’s quest or not. You have found a new path to success, Marinette. That is no small thing.”

Finally believing her words, Marinette let a smile creep across her face. Could she really have figured out the way to end this ongoing fight? Save Emilie, and maybe at least one of the other parents, too?

There was still the matter of Adrien, and the other senti-children, too. But that was more a matter of protection than anything else. And Adrien might call himself her knight, but Marinette was the one fighting as his soldier, secret and steadfast in her mission. She would make sure no one hurt him or used his origins against him, ever.

__*__*__*__*__

The ingredients arrived that afternoon, just before the akuma attack. Nathalie had the Gorilla, who did not know their purpose, deliver them to Marinette’s house, and reassured her that nothing bad would come from her trying to make the cure once again.

Then it was time to face the so-called heroes.

The akuma today, which Marinette had eventually convinced Nathalie to let her help with, was a little boy who had wanted a lollipop. “Gigantitan,” Hawk Moth had named it.

Marinette privately wondered why Hawk Moth had bothered keeping this akuma, when it had been meant for the man across the street, not the literal baby. The butterfly had been diverted from its course by the strength of the baby’s emotions, and the baby had agreed to Hawk Moth’s offer of powers, so she supposed it must be okay. Still, something about it seemed off.

“Hey, Miss Blue,” Golden Bug greeted her as she arrived on the scene of the akuma battle. “Skies been matching your color recently?”

Chat Grise slid under the akuma’s giant foot as it stomped on a playground swing set and wailed in disappointment.

“No, but I think her emotions have been. Look at her face,” she murmured in the same quiet voice as usual.

Golden Bug clucked as Bluewing tried to steel her face and hide her emotions. “Oh, being a villain got you feeling blue? What a pity,” he remarked as he signaled some sort of plan to Chat Grise, who nodded and leapt off. “Maybe switching to the right side would let you feel light as a feather again!”

He tossed his yo-yo towards Chat Grise, clearly intending to make a tripwire to bring Gigantitan down with.

“Turn around!” Bluewing called up to Gigantitan. But Gigantitan must not have heard her, because he kept moving forward.

Mildly desperate and doubting Hawk Moth’s ability to control a months-old baby, Bluewing rushed forward and shoved Golden Bug towards the end of his yo-yo string. The tripwire collapsed, but now Golden Bug was directly in Gigantitan’s path and would probably get smushed in a few seconds.

Realistically, Marinette should be cheering about that fact, because hey, maybe he would give up his Miraculous after this to avoid getting stepped on by an oversized toddler again!

Unfortunately, no one had told Marinette’s heart this. It was crying out in agony that oh, the love of her life was about to be crushed under that oversized toddler’s foot! Wasn’t that awful? How could she just let this happen!? and so she swooped forward, unable to resist the impulse to pull Golden Bug out of the danger zone, not that he needed her help.

Before she could reach him, he was already pushing himself up, and he used his yo-yo to swing over to where his partner stood. They shot Bluewing twin scowls as she belatedly realized (while tripping over her disloyal feet) that she’d played herself, and now, lying on her back where her enemy had just been, she was the one about to get crushed by a toddler’s onesie-clad foot.

Adrien, I’m so sorry, she thought, and hoped that getting stepped on by a baby wouldn’t hurt as bad as getting trapped under the Eiffel tower had.

She never found out.

Golden Bug’s yo-yo wrapped around her waist and pulled her out of the danger zone just before Gigantitan’s foot touched down. Bluewing had a few seconds to feel relieved, but Chat Grise immediately seized her fan and broke it, ruining the moment.

She’d done that during nearly every single battle Bluewing had been in, and Marinette couldn’t blame her, although it was a little bit annoying. She’d finally learned a technique where a fan could be helpful in a fight (from Avatar: The Last Airbender, but who was counting), and losing her fan still made her feel like a failure. Well, more like a failure.

“Lucky Charm!”

Golden Bug’s call snapped Bluewing back into action, and she dove to grab whatever object he’d summoned this time before he could. A giant plastic lollipop smacked her in the forehead, and she fell to the ground, dazed.

“Sorry, Miss Blue,” Golden Bug chuckled as he bent over her to pick up the Lucky Charm, “I’m guessing this means you couldn’t tell the difference between good and evil if it smacked you in the face!”

Bluewing groaned as Chat Grise and Golden Bug struggled to lift the fake lollipop up and wave it in front of Gigantitan. She could forgive a bad pun here and there, but did he have to look so stupidly handsome while he was telling them?

The akuma was defeated before Marinette pushed herself up to stand on wobbly legs. A friendly swarm of ladybugs flew around her as Golden Bug’s Cure healed her injuries, and as they left, she saw the hero her enemy catch the baby who’d been akumatized as he fell from the air.

“Ooh, was that an exciting big fall? Was that fun?” he asked the baby in a playful tone, and the baby gurgled happily. Chat Grise, standing by her partner, dangled a real lollipop she’d asked a vendor for in front of the baby, and he went cross-eyed as he grabbed for it. Golden Bug laughed and held the toddler close to his chest as they walked over to a woman who must have been his mother, and her grateful praise faintly reached Marinette’s ears as she turned to go back to the mansion.

It was just another victory for the false heroes; another failure for the real ones.

Marinette let herself fall along with her transformation as soon as she reached the safety of the mansion.

Hawk Moth, frowning, informed her that she should come back for further training that night.

__*__*__*__*__

It was almost dark when she reached the mansion that evening. The pale pink hue of the clouds was fading from them, and the sky was mostly dark except for a few pockets of blue near the clouds.

Marinette watched the darkness spread and tried to hold onto the courage she’d found that afternoon, after the battle. She’d gone home and begun work on the possible cure with the ingredients from Nathalie; mixed the meteorite dust with the peacock feather and added gold, heated up by the Bunsen burner Nathalie had sent with it.

This mixture didn’t come out looking like the others had. It was glittering gold, and there had been a little blue puff of smoke as Marinette added the final ingredient. After it had cooled down a little, she’d put some of the potion in her vial, whispering a short prayer — was it a prayer? — under her breath as she put the necklace on.

Repair the damage, please repair the Miraculous damage!

She’d felt a wave of relief hit as the vial brushed against her skin, and her legs had strengthened immediately. Suddenly, she wasn’t afraid of falling over at the lightest breeze; she knew that she could run and jump like a kid on a playground and not worry about her muscles suddenly weakening, or that a wracking cough would overtake her as she spoke to her friends.

This time, the cure had worked.

Now, she had to be brave enough to tell M. Agreste that it had.

“I’m disappointed in your work today at the fight,” he began as soon as she stepped into the dojo, not even waiting for her to say hello. “It was sloppy on both of our parts, I suppose.”

“It would have gone better if the baby hadn’t attracted the akuma to himself,” Marinette offered, keeping one hand in her pants pocket.

Gabriel hummed. “It would have. But you should have protected yourself from the menaces better. The cat broke your fan, and you didn’t even make a move to stop her.”

“I was still trying to process the fact that the akuma was about to step on me.”

“And whose fault was that? Why did you bother trying to help Golden Bug? If he’d been crushed, then so much the better for us! We could’ve won the fight! But I know you are still adjusting to the demands of battle. You need more training, and we need a better plan. Have you ever thought about making a sentimonster of your own?”

Marinette felt like she’d been punched.

“What? We agreed that I would never, I mean, Adrien, and the other kids, and that’s too much power! I wouldn’t know how to use it!”

“I could teach you. Not all sentimonsters look like humans, you know. You could have created a stick man out of lollipops, born from the akuma’s frustration, to help win the fight today. I know you’re nervous about abusing the Miraculous, but believe me, you wouldn’t be. Not under my guidance.”

Marinette clutched a hand to her chest, where the Miraculous would rest were she wearing it.

“But, the damage; wouldn’t the Miraculous poison spread faster if I used it to make a senti? And end up like—” she gulped, pleading with her eyes to understand what she was saying.

Gabriel frowned.

“Fine, you have a good point. We’ll table it for now. Back to the point of your visit, I have a new technique for you to study. It is called—”

“I have something to tell you first,” Marinette interrupted, pulling out a second vial from her pocket. “I made it. I made the cure.”

Eyes filling with fire, M. Agreste stared at the gold liquid held by the necklace in her hands.

“I warned you not to do that,” he hissed. “You’ve endangered the entire mission!”

Marinette swallowed.

“Sir,” she started again, clenching her other fist at her side to keep calm, “I know you didn’t want me to look at the pictures—”

“But you did. You went directly against my wishes. You disobeyed me.”

Notgoodnotgoodnotgood—

Marinette took a deep breath and remembered how happy Nathalie had been to hear that there might be a cure. She’d had faith in this solution, the best outcome. Marinette had to stand her ground, for herself and for Adrien.

“I know there wasn’t a translation for the Grimoire. I know the pictures don’t mean much without words to go with them. But they were enough, after all! Sometimes a solution really doesn’t exist, and sometimes... you just need to find a new way to create it. Please listen to me,” she begged, holding out the vial in her hands. “I think that my cure can heal Emilie — it’s already working on me — and then you won’t even need the Miraculous, at all!”

“Won’t need the Miraculous?” Gabriel roared, seething as he looked down at Marinette. “Have you forgotten about the other parents, the ones who have already died from the gruesome poison of your Miraculous? Do you think a witch’s brew is going to bring them back? No,” he spat out, and Marinette flinched. “And what of Adrien, and the other sentimonsters? Do you think some glittering sludge is going to cure them, too? Keep their souls safe from a world bent on destroying them? No, don’t hide it; give me your hand, Miss Dupain-Cheng.”

She extended her hand again, trembling. “Please...” she whispered, unsure what to say.

Gabriel snatched the vial out of her palm. Stuffing it in his pocket, he removed a silver ring from the same pocket, clutched tight in his fingers. This he placed in Marinette palm; folding her fingers around it, he offered her a stern frown.

“This is Adrien’s amok.”

Marinette would have recoiled, but M. Agreste’s firm grasp on her hand kept her standing in place.

“So that you know the true weight of this object, I would like to tell you a story. Follow me, and put the ring on. Keep it safe.”

He led her over to the elevator, down to the basement garden where Emilie’s bed lay, avoiding the stairs so that they wouldn’t disturb Adrien, who was studying in his room and didn’t know that Marinette was there. When they reached Emilie’s place of repose, Gabriel turned to Marinette and began to speak.

“When Emilie created Adrien, she did it out of love. She knew that anyone who holds a sentimonster’s amok may use it to control them, and so in her wisdom, she split his in two. Now, no one can have complete control of Adrien unless they hold both halves of his amok. The ring I gave you holds one half of it. You can use it to control him, give him any order you wish, but I alone know where the second half of the amok is, and so long as I hold it, I can reverse your orders and protect Adrien from your control. Does that sound fair to you?”

“No!” Marinette cried. “No one should be able to control him, ever! Why would you give me this?”

“It is because I trust you,” Gabriel said solemnly. “I don’t think you are losing your battles on purpose. But perhaps you will try harder to win them if I remind you of what’s at stake.

“Adrien’s life is bound to his amok. If that ring is ever damaged, the destruction will be reflected in him. If it is so much as scratched, he will suffer, just the same as he will if we do not win the Miraculous from Golden Bug and Chat Grise. It is our responsibility to do everything in our power to win, Marinette. Everything. Do you understand?”

Marinette looked down at the ring she now wore on her finger.

“I understand,” she said quietly.

“I appreciate your trying to find a cure,” M. Agreste said in a calm tone. “But as far as I’m aware, the Miraculous is still broken, no? You may have healed yourself temporarily, but each time you put your suit on, you will be poisoned again. Your cure only works partway.”

“But, Emilie...” Marinette’s voice trailed off. “Don’t you think it might help her, sir? I understand now that we need to make the Wish, but in the meantime, wouldn’t you like to have her back? You have the cure; won’t you at least try to see if it will help her?”

M. Agreste pursed his lips. “It may have been too long since the poison took effect in her for it to help,” he said bluntly. But as Marinette’s face fell, he added, “I will see what I can do.”

Brightening up, Marinette threw her arms around him in a hug. “Oh, thank you, M. Agreste! Thank you!”

Squealing excitedly, she wiggled as M. Agreste sighed and led her back to the elevator.

“Pay extra attention to the lesson tonight,” he instructed her. “Now that you’ll be back to your former strength, I expect you to be even more effective in akuma battles. Don’t pull any of your punches, understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Marinette said, and smiled to herself. Finally, she’d done something to help Adrien!

“Oh,” she remembered. “The ring. Let me give it back to you.”

She started to take it off her finger, but M. Agreste stopped her.

“Keep it. I trust you won’t use it to control Adrien, will you?”

She shook her head, anger flashing in her eyes. “Of course not!”

“Good. Then by keeping it with you at all times, you may do more to keep it, and my son, safe than I could have by keeping it in the mansion. You have my blessing, Marinette. I only ask that you do nothing which could make you lose it.”

__*__*__*__*__

The next day was Saturday, and Marinette was scheduled to help out with one of Adrien’s photoshoots.

M. Agreste wasn’t there, but Nathalie oversawMarinette’s efforts. She’d felt nervous but excited as she laid out the different outfits Adrien would be changing into. So far, everything had gone swimmingly— that is, until the akuma struck.

Nobody had bothered informing Marinette that there would be an akuma that day. Or that Valentine’s had come so early this year! But here she was, running (possibly for her life) from a dark-colored, winged akuma who was shooting arrows at her and Adrien.

“Chloe rejected me for you?” the akuma, who was calling himself Dark Cupid (and possibly used to call himself Kim) squawked. “I don’t know why she wasted the energy! It’s clear where your affections lie... for now, at least,” he finished with a chuckle.

Adrien pulled Marinette behind the bushes in the park the photoshoot was taking place at just in time to avoid the latest barrage of arrows.

“I really did not need this right now,” he muttered, keeping his arm raised as if to ward off another attack that way.

Marinette nodded in agreement. “It wasn’t in my afternoon plans, that’s for sure,” she agreed, holding back a hysterical giggle.

What was she supposed to do right now? Surely, Hawk Moth wasn’t targeting his son and apprentice on purpose! Should she rush back to the mansion, on foot if necessary, and transform? Or should she presume that this was an even worse rogue akuma than Gigantitan had been, and try to take it down before it caused more damage?

She didn’t get any more time to think about her options, though. A winged shadow fell over their hiding spot, and she felt Adrien freeze next to her.

“Did you really think you could hide from me in that scrawny bush?” Kim laughed and shot another arrow towards Marinette and Adrien, who glanced once at each other and ran towards the Gorilla’s car. Adrien pulled the door open for Marinette, who was about to crawl inside when she noticed Dark Cupid notching another arrow in her periphery.

“Adrien, look out!” she cried, leaping in front of him just as the arrow flew home, striking her in the chest. She staggered forward, eyes drooping closed as she wrapped her fingers around the shaft, trying to yank it out. But before she could push past the pain blossoming in her chest, her world faded to black.

__*__*__*__*__

When Marinette opened her eyes, all she could see was green.

The vivid color belonged to a familiar pair of eyes — Golden Bug’s eyes — but the gentle pressure on her lips quickly proved that this was just another dream, just one more quiet moment of bliss before she would inevitably wake up and feel the weight of her guilt come crashing down on her.

But this time, Marinette didn’t want to wake up, so she wrapped her arms around her forbidden love, eagerly pulling him closer, and pressed her lips more firmly to his. His green eyes fell shut as she deepened the kiss, and a shiver ran through his body as she tangled her fingers in his soft, golden hair. She thought she heard a moan catch in his throat, but she was too focused on kissing him to be sure, too wrapped up in this moment of perfection.

It ended, of course. It always ended.

This time, it just happened to be a little worse than it ever had been in the past.

The boy who Marinette had been kissing pulled back, gasping for air, and his eyes blinked open, peering into hers.

Adrien worked his jaw for a little before he pushed the question out. “Marinette, are you okay?”

Ah. Of course, this kind of thing would happen. Of course, she kissed her best friend, thinking that he was someone else. Her friend, who happened to be her boss’ son!

The same green eyes as before were still staring into hers, but this time she recognized them as Adrien Agreste’s, not Golden Bug’s. He was pinned to the ground under her, his back pressed uncomfortably against the wall of the Agreste mansion. When had they gotten there? Weren’t they just at the park?

Marinette backed off of Adrien, giving him the space he needed to sit up and slowly begin to massage the sore spots on his wrists, the deep marks her fingernails had left on him.

No. No, no, no, no, no!

She’d just been entrusted with Adrien’s amok yesterday! She’d sworn not to misuse it, not to hurt him, and now—! Now, she’d done just that! And on top of whatever akuma-influenced scars she’d left on his body, s he’d just kissed him on the lips ! He was probably so freaked out!

“I’m so sorry!” She spat it out, horrified, unable to look away from Adrien’s wide eyes, his reddened lips and hot cheeks. “Adrien, I— I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened, I swear!”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Adrien murmured, bringing one hand up to lightly prod his swollen lips. “We didn’t know what the akuma could do. And it could have been worse.”

How?

This madness had to end. Marinette had to make sure the akuma’s reign ended, and fast. Luckily, she wasn’t that far away from the Miraculous which would give her power to do just that. And poison her. Again.

Marinette, her mouth thinning, reached a hand down to Adrien. “I’m going to go inside,” she told him as she helped him up. “Stay sa— please stay safe,” she begged. Afraid that she’d keep messing up and control Adrien without thinking, she hurried around the corner of the mansion, taking the steps two at a time until she reached the door. As soon as she’d pulled it open and stepped inside, she slid down against the wall in shock.

Oh, what had she done? But she didn’t have time to waste feeling guilty! Adrien needed his wounds to be healed, and that could only happen if the akuma was taken down.

Marinette forced herself to her feet and marched towards the safe where the Peacock brooch was kept. She didn’t hesitate as she punched in the combination and pinned the brooch to her shirt. While the suit was still wrapping itself around her, she was already running to the side door, ready to jump into action.

But first, she had a call to make. Putting in the earbuds that came with the suit, she pressed the button which appeared on the base of her fan and waited for Hawk Moth to pick up.

“Marinette! I’m glad to hear from you. The akuma is—”

“I know what the akuma is, trust me,” she said bitterly. “It’s out of control. It made me hurt Adrien.” Her voice caught in her throat, and she swallowed as she took a break from running to catch her bearings.

“Dark Cupid wasn’t as effective as I might’ve hoped,” Hawk Moth admitted. “Still, the ring is safe, is it not?”

Bluewing ran her thumb over the space on her finger where her— where Adrien’s amok had been when she transformed. She couldn’t feel it now, but she knew it was there, hidden under the suit like her clothes.

“It’s safe,” she confirmed. “Now, where’s the akuma? We need to take it down!”

Hawk Moth coughed. “Hold on, Bluewing. Adrien is no longer anywhere near the akuma. Golden Bug and Chat Grise finally showed up; Dark Cupid is distracted and there’s no need to recall the akuma at this point.”

“Yeah, well, we still need Golden Bug to release his Cure,” Bluewing shot back. “Or did you forget the part where I said Dark Cupid made me hurt your son?”

Hawk Moth was silent for a moment.

“You don’t think I would leave him unhealed in my Wish, do you?”

Bluewing scowled as she spotted the fight a block away and started heading towards it. “Fine. I don’t even know what the akumatized object is, so I’ll let it be for now. But this better be the last time you take risks with who you akumatize. If another akuma gets diverted by an unideal subject, don’t go through with the akumatization.”

She leapt into action, tripping Golden Bug and then lunging towards Chat Grise. She managed to steal half of her baton and toss it away, but that still left her with two enemies to fight. Where did Dark Cupid go?

Across the street, chaos was reigning; lovers, friends, and family were fighting over what seemed to be the akuma’s influence alone.

Just like what I did to Adrien, Marinette thought with a shiver.

“Hey, Bluebird! Good to see you!” Dark Cupid greeted her as he swept back onto the scene, somehow still with a full quiver of arrows.

“It’s Bluewing, actually,” she corrected as she ducked under Chat Grise’s jab. “You didn’t teach him to call me that on purpose, did you, Bug?”

Golden Bug only scowled in response. “Lucky Charm,” he called out. “I don’t have the time for this today.”

Chat Grise kicked Bluewing, sending her flying before she could try to steal the Lucky Charm again.

She was quick to get back on her feet, charging toward Golden Bug while he was staring at the object which had landed in his hands. Dark Cupid was already notching a new arrow, preparing to let it fly. Good. The battle would be over soon.

“Chat!” Golden Bug called out just as Bluewing got close to him, and the cat came flying out of nowhere, grabbing Bluewing’s wrist and sending her flying towards Golden Bug. What? How could that possibly help either of the heroes?

Bluewing caught herself as she stumbled, pinwheeling her arms for balance, which she briefly regained for a moment before an arrow struck her right in the center of her back.

“Come on!” she howled, because really, this was absurd. She’d never been hit by an akuma before, and for it to happen twice in one day was just unlucky.

It was taking longer for the darkness to overtake her this time, a potential weakness of the akuma perhaps. She had time to notice the odd way Golden Bug was looking at her, then back at the candy apple in his hands.

Bluewing swallowed. Could he somehow tell what she’d done to Adrien earlier, when she’d mistaken her friend’s green eyes for his?

But why would she have kissed Adrien (ugh, she’d kissed Adrien) if she’d mistaken him for her worst enemy? Why hadn’t she pummeled him into dust while she’d had the chance? She should’ve ordered him to beg for mercy on his knees while she taunted him for all those stupid model poses he’d taken so much to heart that he was using them everywhere, even at home.

And Golden Bug, how dare he smirk at her like that? She’d show him to curse the world with that disgustingly perfect smile!

Dark Cupid was saying something in the background. He sounded pissed. Marinette was pissed, too.

Stalking towards Golden Bug, she raised her hand and slapped him right across the face, or she tried to, anyway. He avoided her blow and hopped backwards to safety. His sneaky partner stood by him, ready to fight.

“Ugh, you’re both so doggedly persistent!” Bluewing rolled her head backwards and groaned.

“Isn’t that a compliment?” Chat Grise asked in a pathetically tiny voice.

“No!” Bluewing yelled, snapping her head forward and glaring at her. “It isn’t! I hate you! I hate you both! And you won’t stop bothering me!”

“Wait, what? What!?” Golden Bug was talking to her, but she didn’t care.

There was a billboard with Adrien’s face on it behind the bratty ‘heroes,’ and Bluewing wanted to take it down.

“You ugly-pretty model!” she shrieked, looking over and past the two menaces’ heads to address the offending advertisement. “There is no need for your face to be on this many billboards! We’re already plagued with your face from the moment we get up to the moment we go to sleep! I hate you!”

“You hate Adrien, too? How do you feel about akumas?” Golden Bug’s voice interrupted her bloodthirsty thoughts.

“Oh, Bratty Bug,” Bluewing crooned, lowering her gaze back to him and the other menace. “I think they’re the only sane people left on this earth. They can take over control of the place once I’ve watered the ground with your blood.”

Golden Bug took a step back.

“And... Hawk Moth?”

“A terrible person. I’m going to kill him, too. I’m going to kill all of you! The whole planet! I hate everyone except for akumas!” She paused for a moment. That statement hadn’t felt quite right. “And Chloe Bourgeois!” she added triumphantly.

Golden Bug dropped his yo-yo. In the sky behind him, Dark Cupid wheeled about, shooting his arrows and laughing victoriously.

“Giving up already, coward?” Bluewing taunted, stepping forward with a glint in her eye.

Chat Grise moved to stand in front of him defensively, holding her baton out at the ready. But he pushed her arm aside and stepped forward.

“Hey, if you’re so powerful, and if you hate that billboard so bad, why don’t you go do something about it? You want to kill the whole world; why don’t you warm up by killing him?” Golden Bug gestured toward the billboard in a congenial manner.

“Wow, that is the first smart thing I’ve heard you say,” Bluewing said with a cackle. “Stay here, so I can kill you when I get back. You can follow simple directions, can’t you?”

“Sure can,” Golden Bug said, grinning tightly and wrapping one arm around Chat Grise. Bluewing shot her a particularly fearsome glare as she stalked past.

And there he was: her enemy number one, Paris’ favorite golden boy, Adrien Agreste.

Utterly ridiculous.

She started work by hopping up onto the narrow platform and punching his well-lit face a couple times, sending sparks flying down to the streets below.

“Go! Die! You! Ugly! Billboard!” she shouted, laughing when the perfume ad went dark and the metal squealed in agony from her hits.

As she began tearing the billboard apart piece by piece, Marinette grinned to herself. This was good! She was saving Paris from this piece of scum, slowly but surely! And once she finished with this, she was going to kill that super-ridiculous duo! She was going to murder Gabriel Agreste and his son, and Nathalie, too!

Grinning, Bluewing wound up her fist, ready to punch Adrien again, when suddenly a swarm of ladybugs surrounded her, releasing the curse and restoring her senses.

What was she doing?

Bluewing stepped back from the billboard, wondering how she’d gotten there. She’d transformed, headed to the battle to help Hawk Moth, and— oh, no. She’d gotten hit again.

And it was even worse the second time, because she actually remembered some of what she’d done. She’d insulted Golden Bug, Chat Grise, and Hawk Moth, and threatened to kill the whole world! Then she’d tried to kill Adrien, even just a billboard version of him, because of how much she’d hated him!

So much for the loyal soldier.

Bluewing didn’t bother sticking around to watch her enemies celebrate their victory. She headed straight for the nearest empty alleyway and tore off her brooch.

It glittered in the sunlight, proudly displaying its broken feathers and beak and heart. Marinette had to use everything she had to control herself and not dash the Miraculous against the brick road.

Instead, she sank onto her knees and let a bloodcurdling scream tear out of her throat.

#bluewing au #ml fanfic #rosie-b writing #miraculous ladybug #ooh what's this? an adrinette kiss? in my fic?#it's more likely than you'd think #*laughs evilly*

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laf-outloud · 1 year

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https://www.tumblr.com/laf-outloud/727083591202471936

I would just like to say a few things:

I was honestly taken aback by this, because even if they won‘t believe me, why not share the info anyway? Or at least respond to it? If there is nothing to what I say, then it could be quickly invalidated or? Unless the two know exactly that I'm right and are afraid of when it comes out.

Here's the thing anon, there really ISN'T a way to verify. They would have to specifically know people who work at those cons and neither of them are based in that area so it's less likely they have connects over there (obviously still possible, but not as likely as for US cons). And even then, they would only be able to verify it for themselves and would still not be able to offer proof. Granted only one of those two cares about showing receipts... it still isn't something that "could be quickly invalidated"

And look at the line up of the English cons and tell me that you could not have paid Jared‘s fee to run various duo shots!

Now about this, even IF they are going to two separate cons from the same company there could be a few reasons for that which have nothing to do with them avoiding each other. As @laf-outloud already mentioned - it's a smart business decision to get a little distance between them since they are still so tied together publicly even years after SPN has ended. With the way CE cons run it would be impossible to really get the separation there (and they have been exclusive there forever when it comes to US cons) so their only chance to really do that is overseas cons.

But you also have to think about it fiscally. Yes, the cons may be run by the same umbrella company but I also bet they have allotted money for each con and with other big names, they can't afford both at one individual con without having to cancel other big name guests who are a draw. Another thing is the fans spending. If they get both J2 at one con then to cover to extra costs they would probably have to increase the prices of ops and autos. That limits the number of fans who can afford to purchase tickets for both and some would pick between the two, meaning less income for the con and J2 themselves. By splitting them, the fans of each don't have to choose and can spend money on one J and also other guests. Plus, splitting them up means a bigger draw to each con (since we've seen how quickly they can both sell out cons). If they were together at one then all the draw would be there, with the split there is an added draw to both cons.

If I'm lying, why is Creation now releasing the second convention for 2024 with only Jensen as headliner but not with Jared? It can't be the money, because Creation takes the same amount for the tickets as usual. And schedule difficulties during an official strike ? Hardly.

First, just because he isn't added now, doesn't mean he can't be added later. And yes the strike is effecting work, but they might still have tentative schedules in place based on when they think the strikes might end. They are surely going to get right back to work when the strikes are over so he might have some idea about work schedules going forward.

But there are also rumors (unverifiable of course) about CE cons and that J2 signed on again but for less cons. Hypothetically speaking (because I do NOT know any specifics, this is simply me giving an example) if they each signed on for 6 cons for 2024 but CE wants to run 10 then there are going to be cons that have one and not the other, that's just logistics and doesn't necessarily mean anything. I'm sure if they wanted to do more than what they signed on for, CE would be more than happy to accommodate because J2 is their real money maker, but if they really did sign on for less and that rumor is true, then the CE con landscape is going to change quite a bit in 2024. I personally think that if this rumor is true, we are going to see Jared do the amount he signed on for, and Jensen will do those plus additional CE cons. We've seen he doesn't want to let go of SPN and with the spending the Ackles do (10mil mansion anyone?? That clothes budget....) they can't really give up that income.

You make some great points, anon. Thank you for sharing! It would make sense to split the pair up and draw more SPN fans to multiple cons than to have them all gathered at one con.

I would be really interested if your speculation about the Creation schedule were true, mainly because I'd love to see how different a Jensen-only led Creation con would work vs. a Jared-only led con.

#ask box #convention speculation #creation conventions #multi-fandom conventions #jared's convention appearances #jensen critical #just in case

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ebitchwriting · 7 months

Text

Dragged Into The Blood

Story Summary: Never staying in one place for long, moving nearly every year, Lea Anderson was used to impermanence, chaos, and having to leave everything behind at the drop of a hat. Lea never expected that she would be kidnapped and wake up in a rusted, decrepit prison cell because of a madman's delusional belief in eugenics and cleansing the Earth of imperfection. By herself, with only the clothing on her back, she will have to rely on luck and logic to escape before she's killed or worse. Chapter Summary: Finding an escape from this compound was easier said than done when everything was locked, and the captor was seemingly watching their every move, pulling their strings where the captor wished. More than that, it was getting harder for Lea to hide her true nature from her fellow prisoners, and there seemingly being a feral creature around every corner, ready to tear them apart. How long could Lea keep her mask up in the carnage? Chapter Warnings: blood, gore, guns, death, and sensory overload issues.

I'm back! After a month! Sorry, an ice storm hit, which led to me losing power for 12 days. Then I noticed how literally every single chapter has typos or weird nonsensical crap in it because, apparently, Grammarly sucks now. So once I got power back, I obsessively started to go over each chapter and edited out all the mistakes until it was acceptable in my eyes. And, in all honesty, my MA Apprenticeship overwhelmed me as well. Regardless, I'm back with a new chapter and working on the next! However, I will be changing my upload schedule to once a month rather than once every two weeks to account for the apprenticeship, this fic, and also the passion project of my own epic fantasy world. Anyway, enjoy the chapter, and let me know what you think of it!

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17.

Chapter 15: Locks and Keys

No one said a word as Claire took the first step forward. No one said a word when they pushed past the door and entered yet another ominous, dark hallway, lit only by the flickering overhead lights. Moving slowly, cautiously, anticipating someone or something to pop out and attack them. Yet, with each step, nothing jumps out of the shadows. Leaning against the wall behind Claire as she peered over the edge, there was still nothing. Turning past the corner, everyone stayed eerily quiet, not wanting to tempt fate.

‘… And whoever is puppeteering us…’

Lea couldn’t help the twitches at every distant screech. Wails reverberated off the walls, and it was impossible to tell where they originated. Eyes wide beneath the cover, darting back and forth as she shuffled forward.

‘… The doors conveniently unlocking… that butchered guy dropping as soon as Claire grabbed the keys… the fact we found each other damn near immediately… There is no fucking way that whoever kidnapped us isn’t watching us right now...’ The corner of her mouth twitched into a grimace. Back taut, feeling like a thread threatening to snap under the tension.

‘… This is actually worse than Wesker… at least that fuck couldn’t be bothered to keep tabs on me after… that…’

Another corner. Another stop to peer over the edge for anyone or anything malevolent. After a moment, Claire silently begins moving again. Moira tentatively followed, honey eyes alert and darting around the dimly lit area. Lea languished behind, struggling to keep her movements calm and controlled.

‘… They always have a goal… no matter how fucked it is… there’s always one… I’m swear if it’s godhood again…’

Claire pushed open the red-lit double doors, the hinges groaning, timed almost perfectly with the low wailing of something far in the distance. Every hair not singed from Lea’s body stood on end as a rush of frigid air poured out from what looked like the remains of a morgue. Teeth chattering, shivering hands reaching up to rub at her shoulders. Lea’s clothed gaze stared enviously at the other two and their jackets.

“Hey, what’s your name?” Moira whispered, rushing towards the knocked-over desks, rummaging through the drawers as fast as possible with shaky hands. The corners of Lea’s lips curled into a vindicated smirk at the sight, rubbing at her shoulders as she trembled.

“It’s L-” Lea froze, eyes falling to the floor as she tried to focus on what I.D. the B.S.A.A. supplied her. She cringed with every second that passed as Lea struggled with her memory.

“… Uh, you alright?” Moria asked, giving her a quizzical look as she moved across the room, idly looking over the counters for anything useful.

“Yep! It’s… um… Lana… Westerna.” Lea awkwardly drawled out as the name finally resurfaced, instantly burning with embarrassment when she peeked at Moira’s incredulous face.

“… Like from Dracula?” Moira asked, quirking up an eyebrow at her, eyes meeting cotton. Lea could feel the heat radiating off her cheeks as she blushed harder from the embarrassment.

“At least they didn’t name me Lucy,” Lea tried feebly to laugh it off, her attempts at laughter sounding painfully forced. Lea cursed under her breath for jokingly suggesting that name and her inability to use the correct tone.

“Shh, we still don’t know what’s out there. Come on.” Claire warned, the octaves of her voice falling down a few notes for a moment. The two quickly finished giving the room a once-over before falling back behind her.

Out and around the corner, the group found a ladder going down. Lea rises to the tips of her toes, peering over Claire’s shoulder to the lower platform. A surprisingly small room, hardly lit by fallen lights, just as run-down as everything else in this building. Her gaze locked with the two corpses on either end of the room. One covered in a bloodied and dirtied white tarp. After a moment of focusing her gaze, she recognized the fallen butchered guard as the other corpse.

“Alright, we made it. Key’s over there.” Claire breathed a sigh of relief, stepping down a few rungs of the ladder before gripping the sides and sliding down. On the other hand, Moira chose to go down each rung, complaining about the smell. After a pondering second, Lea slid down like Claire, not wanting to waste more time than necessary.

Tentatively stepping toward the butchered guard, about fifty feet away. Forty. Cries of agony, but the other two didn’t hear it.

‘… Not safe yet…’

Thirty feet. Twenty. A loud crash that as all flinching back.

“Shit, what was that?” A scared muttering nearby, Moira, perhaps? Or was it herself? It certainly wasn’t Claire.

Ten feet. Five. Then, finally, they’re at the body, the air thick with apprehension as Claire kneels and inspects the corpse. The more experienced woman grimaced slightly at the sickly-sweet stench of death but ignored it.

“The key’s gone.”

‘… The keys aren’t on the belt… did it fall to the ground..? No... nothing… not a damn thing… maybe it’s caught..?’

Claire pulled out the handgun from the guard’s belt, quickly ejecting the clip and inspecting it alongside the chamber of the 9mm. Lea’s eyes were trailing upward, looking at possible hooks and crevices. A shuffling step backward echoes in the room.

“Do you, uh… are you gonna use that?” Moira asked timidly, her voice just wavering a little bit. Shuffling of fabric, something plastic being clicked open.

“More reliable than any person,” Claire responded without a beat. A click, then something being pulled out from under the corpse, quickly followed by something plastic clicking close and something heavy being holstered. More shuffling steps backward.

“If you say so,” Moira said, her tone wary but dropping the subject. Lea opened her mouth to ask Moira a question when a metallic glint caught her attention. The keys, hanging off the side of a rusted water tank.

“I found the keys!” Lea excitedly announced, pointing at the rusted tank with a smile. A smile that fell as soon as she turned around and was met with the confused gazes of the other two women. “Uh… I really don’t need much to adjust to the dark…” Lea mumbled under her breath, reaching a hand to scratch at the back of her head.

“Moira, shine on light on it, will ya?” Claire asked, unholstering her gun. Lea didn’t miss how Moira’s amber honey eyes flickered with fear as they locked onto the 9mm. After a moment, the pixie-haired girl shook her head and pointed the flashlight at the water tank. Lea quickly raised her hands to cup her ears and turned away from the pair.

A jolt of pain shot through her head the second the trigger was pulled, followed by a high-pitched ringing muffling all other sounds. The jingling of the keys as they were quickly scooped from the ground was barely audible, much less the loud, mechanical beep of the nearest door being unlocked. Lea shook her head, rubbing at her ears as if that would make the ringing go away quicker.

Turning around, the three started making their way back. Fifty feet, forty. Lea nervously glanced around the room as she followed Claire, her nerves filled with urgency. Memories start flickering in the back of Lea’s mind, sidestepping her attempts to shove it down. Thirty feet, twenty. The temple, bullets flying back her head, debris coating her lungs, blood dripping down her hands. Ten feet.

The door crashes open, practically hanging off its hinges, as another mutilated shell of a person starts wailing, spewing blood and saliva everywhere. Without waiting another second, Claire aims and shoots, the bullet lodging in its throat and sending another jolt of agony through Lea’s head. Lea’s clutching at her head, hardly aware of the whine that escapes her lips.

A hand grips her shoulders, and suddenly, she’s being pulled along and toward the ladder. Someone’s shouting voice warbled as if from underwater, the horrid ringing muffling anything identifiable. Snapping back into action, Lea climbed the ladder as fast as possible. Sprinting down the hall, skidding around the corners. Eyes locked forward, ignoring everything behind her.

Slamming past the door and entering the frosted morgue, skidding to a stop at the sight of another one of those creatures baring its teeth at Claire. Lea’s eyes went wide. Claire lashed out with her knife before Lea could try to launch herself forward. She slashed the cheeks, forcing the thing to clutch at its face. Spinning around, Claire kicks at the thing, sending it back into the knocked-over trolley.

Claire looked over her shoulder, shouting something indiscernible back at the two girls before running again. Lea’s eyes flitted to the mutilated body in the corner for a moment before going against her instincts and following Claire and Moira.

Through the double corners, swerving around the broken door hanging off its hinges and down the hall. Skidding around the corners to a screeching stop. There was no one in sight except another one of those monsters. It shrilly cried out, charging her.

Lea cringed at the sound but forced herself to slip into a fighting stance. Closer and closer, leaving bloody footprints on the linoleum floor. Shoulders tensing, eyes locking with a bloated, malignant form. As soon as it reached out to grab Lea, she grabbed the closest arm, flipping and slamming the body into the ground. One swift stomp to the skull, crushing it beneath her heel. The ringing still hadn’t let up, but Lea could feel the crunch, the wet slick of blood and tissue.

‘… Doesn’t matter… need to find the others…’

Lea’s eyes roamed the corridor for anything familiar. After a few seconds, a flash of movement. Eyes snapped to the barred windows, and heaved a sigh of relief at the sight of auburn hair and a dirtied hoodie.

Relief was short-lived as the door at the end of the corridor flew open, and another one of those creatures toppled out. It wasted no time to start sprinting at Lea. Just as Lea slipped back into fighting stance, a shot rings out, the bullet lodging in the eye. The teen flinched but forced herself to close the distance, grabbing and slamming the skull into her knee. Once, twice, thrice, then it went limp.

A hand grabbed and pulled on Lea’s shoulder, and it took everything in her to not twist it off, focusing instead on the flash of auburn hair and blood-spattered leather jacket as they started sprinting again. Lungs burned with every breath, muscles aching with every step. Mind blank for once as her gaze is locked forward, uncaring of whatever is behind her.

Another walking, screeching horror charges from the opened isolation rooms. Another shot rings out, bringing the monster down to its knees. Instinctually, Lea swings down into its temple with her shin, bringing it down. From the corner of her eye, she saw Claire quickly searching for something in the isolation room.

Before the three could continue their escape, something leaps out from the dark. Without thinking, Lea pushes Moira out of its path. Within a second, it tackles the teenager. She reaches out with her hands, keeping it as far away as possible. It clawed at her with its gored and reeking hands. Lea gagged at the stench. From behind the writhing creature, Lea’s covered gaze caught the glint of the barrel pointing at the thing. She ducks her head to the side, squeezing her eyes shut. Another shot, and the splatter of something hot and putrid coating the back of her head and shoulder. Lea pushed the corpse off and flung herself back onto her feet. Running.

Slamming past the blue door, sprinting up the stairs. Claire practically rips the key from her pocket, shoving it into the lock and unlocking it. Yanking the key out of the lock, her hands push the door open, and all three rush past the threshold, slamming and locking the door behind them.

Moira and Lea collapsed, heaving and trembling, while Claire leaned against the door. Lea cupped her ears, closed her eyes, and focused on breathing through her mouth, trying to not gag at the never-waning scent of decay and excrement. The slowing thrum of her heartbeat. The feel of her now sweat-slick skin and sticky hair. Slowly, the high-pitched ringing ebbed, and the mumbling curse words of Moira right next to her brought Lea back down to the present. Behind the stained cloth, Lea opened her eyes, taking in the image before her. Moira, on her hands and knees, dry heaving and cursing up a storm that would put a sailor to shame. Claire, leaning against the door, breathing slowly and deeply, eyes closed yet focused.

After another blessed minute of rest and silence, Claire’s cerulean eyes opened, darting between the two younger women. She knelt, helping Moira back onto her feet before switching to Lea, offering her hand and a tired but warm smile. Tentatively, Lea took Claire’s hand and pulled herself up. They all exchanged glances with each other before Claire took the lead, slowly walking down the new corridor.

They had barely turned the corner before coming upon another corpse. However, Lea wasn’t focused on the fresh carnage but rather on the extended barrel of a shotgun that lay just out of reach of the gnawed hands. Very little of his blood contaminated the gun, only the barest amount on the handle. Claire grabbed the weapon and slung it over her shoulder before moving past the body. Lea couldn’t help but notice how Moira’s already pallid skin grew greyer at the sight of the weapon, honey eyes locking with it as the three turned the corner.

Claire swipes at the wooden crate, shattering the fragile wood. She knelt to rummage through the debris before picking up a small pack of shotgun shells. She holstered her 9mm and grabbed the shotgun slung over her shoulder.

“You need a gun too, Moira,” Claire said flatly as she started loading the shells. Moira froze mid-step, eyes going impossibly wider.

“No, I really, really don’t. Sorry, I don’t do firearms.” Without a beat, the words rambled out of her mouth. Her eyes fell to the ground as they seemed to grow distant, far away. “Not after what happened,” Moira asserted in a hush, her arms crossing over her chest, almost as if cradling herself. Claire swiped the knife through two more crates, grabbing another pack of shells and a handful of green herbs.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I forgot.” Claire turned, looking at the brunette. She let out a small sigh as her eyes trailed to the floor, pondering momentarily. “Maybe we can find you something else.” Claire raised her eyes to try to meet Moira, but the brash young woman scoffed, brushing past Claire.

“No, I’ll just… be on flashlight duty or something. It’s fine.” Moira insisted, despite the waver in her cadence. Walking over to the surprisingly intact storage shelf in the corner, rummaging through the cluttered boxes for anything useful. There were a couple of 9mm bullets, which were hurriedly handed off to Claire. Then, there was something small and blue glinting in the light, but it was pocketed away before Lea could look at it. “Nice,” Moira pulls out the discarded and surprisingly not dirty or rusted crowbar from behind a few boxes on the bottom shelf. “Blunt weapon. I can do blunt weapons.” Moira moved to the other side of the room, inspecting the bright blue graffiti on the wall.

‘… What the fuck happened…’ Lea wondered to herself as she observed the pixie-haired girl walk over to the door, using the crowbar to rip off the nailed-on bar.

‘… I need to step up and get my shit together…’ With a muffled but loud grunt, Moira ripped the bar off, breathing laboriously.

“Lea,” Claire quietly called out, her voice slightly hoarse. Lea stopped, turning her clothed gaze towards the more experienced woman. “You know how to use a gun, right?” Lea’s gaze fell to the shotgun still in the older woman’s hands, the barrel pointed to the ground.

“Oh, uh, yeah. My uncles and aunt taught me, but I only know basic shit.” Lea said awkwardly, bringing a hand to the nape of her neck to rub at it. “I’m fine with the shotgun. It’ll give me more distance.” Claire nodded, handing the gun and shells over to Lea. Claire moved to the door, motioning for the two younger women to stay close behind her.

As soon as they pushed the door open, they were met with the menacing sight of flickering lights, blood stains drenching the walls and ground, and a lone figure dressed in something white and poofy. In an instant, Lea’s jaw dropped in horror as she processed that it was a little girl. Before anyone could react to the sight, the girl ran off, eerily silent.

The three froze, staring ahead where the girl was for a long moment. Claire slowly started inching forward, the others shuffling behind her.

“Clarie, you saw that, right?” Moira tentatively asked as the group turned the corner, careful not to step into the coagulated blood puddle. Rounding the corner, the dark hallway was nearly entirely silent, save for the rasping yet even breathing of dozens of probably more of those things. Were they resting?

“Yeah, I saw… something.”

“Something? That looked like a kid.” Lea snapped before remembering that the two couldn’t see as well in the dark as she could. “Fuck, I hope that’s not a kid. She doesn’t deserve this… no one deserves this.” Lea tacked on, feigning uncertainty as another rush of anxiety flowed through her veins.

“Are you sure, Lea?” Claire paused, turning to face the teen, tone deadly serious yet unjudging. Lea inhaled sharply before nodding just as sharply. “Then we need to keep an eye out and bring her with us. No sudden movements, don’t yell, and stay calm.” Claire flicked her eyes between Lea and Moira, not moving until they both nodded or made affirming noises.

Bizarrely enough, no child was in sight when the three crossed the next threshold. The prison door was sealed and barricaded with large metal crates. There were no crevices she could have hidden in, nor lockers or unlocked crates. After a moment, Claire sighed dejectedly as her cerulean eyes trailed over to a metal divider lifted just slightly so that someone could crawl underneath it.

The group fell back into the routine of breaking the wooden boxes and searching the crevices between the metal crates. Luckily, the search yielded more ammo but did nothing to ease the dread settling in their guts.

‘… There’s no way that kid is infected… too quiet… too good at hiding…. how long has she been here..?’ The thoughts rolled uneasily through Lea’s mind as Claire and Moira started to lift the metal divider to eye level. Lea quickly slid under the divider. She gripped the bottom edge of it, holding it up while the other two crossed over before letting the barrier slide down as quietly as possible.

The horrid stench of dried, old excrement got more potent with each and every step up the stairs, making Lea gag under her breath. The rasping yet even breathing also got louder as they made their ascent, leaving no doubt in her mind that there were at least a dozen more of those poor bastards throughout this new area.

When they reached the last step, Lea immediately recognized this area as an abandoned detention center. Like every other room in this hellscape, blood and dirt caked the walls and floor, though some stains appeared fresher. The stench of urine and fecal matter emanated from the locked solitary cells, strong enough to force Lea to breathe through her mouth to avoid its inescapable odor. The hanging lamps didn’t even flicker, so the only light source came from the tiny slivers of sunlight shining through the barred windows above. As Lea walked underneath one of the slivers of sunlight, she shivered in the minuscule warmth the feeble ray provided compared to the desolate prison.

A familiar electronic screech from a radio filled the relative silence, shocking them to a halt, heads whipping around to find the source of the noise.

“Fear what you will become and become what you fear.” A husky feminine voice languidly said, slightly distorted by the radio waves. Claire lifted her now orange wristband to her ear quizzically.

‘… She’s the bitch… I can feel it in my bones…’

“Are you afraid? You can tell me. Talk to me.” The mysterious voice continued, taking on an almost hissing, cold tone. With every word the mysterious woman said, the more her suspicions started nibbling at the back of her mind.

‘… Why does she sound so familiar..?’

“Those bracelets change color in response to fear.” The voice cryptically trailed on, frustratingly holding only clues and yielding no answers. Even though Lea couldn’t see the face of their captor, she could envision the sadistic smile painting her lips.

“And who exactly are you?” Claire demanded, not an ounce of fear in her tone. Eyes hard, lips pressed into a firm frown, Lea practically sees the fury rolling from the woman in waves. For a moment, she was envious of Claire’s fearlessness and collectedness. Why couldn’t she be like that?

“So much suffering… you don’t even know what to be afraid of yet.” Just as suddenly as the melodic voice had come, the voice went silent, leaving the three with even more questions as well as a palpable and undeniable atmosphere of annoyance. The more experienced woman rolled her eyes and started walking again.

“Was she talking to us or at us?” Moira vented, rolling her eyes as the group entered the next room, a dark room lit by a singular fluorescent light in the corner, otherwise devoid of objects.

“At us. She was definitely talking at us.” Lea concurred, walking over to the desk off to the side. Immediately, she took the map to the detention center before opening the drawers. She grimaced as she noticed that the drawers held nothing. “Here, found this,” Lea said, walking up to the leather-clad woman and handing the dirtied parchment over. For a moment, Claire said nothing nor moved, just stared again with an exhausted expression.

Scrunching her eyebrows, Lea’s eyes traveled over to where Claire was staring. Immediately, she understood Claire’s expression. There was a path, possibly an exit, barred and locked off. Just next to the doorway were gears, clearly missing two vital parts.

#dragged into the blood #original character #resident evil #resident evil revelations 2 #claire redfield #moira burton #a03 link #a03 fanfic #canon compliant #resident evil fanfiction

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rachelminetti · 1 year

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harkive 6.20.23

yesterday and today have been the same day, alone and not in the mountains. still reeling from bonnaroo, i still feel it it my legs. i need to wash my hair and unpack my car. i didn't realize i could stay up that late, fully sober and fully alone, guided only by a tentative schedule and unrestrained impulse. i just wandered around for 3 days, dirty and hydrated and thinking only about what was immediately happening and sitting in the grass and applying sunscreen often enough. there were no barriers between me and the environment i was interacting with, just me and the place.

i was mainly blown away by just how much incredible music i heard over the three days, like truly just top notch quality musicians. i get so used to small diy shows, lo-fi recordings (which has extreme merit! and is brilliant and genuine) that i am taken aback when i see musicians perform their craft, expertly. rina sawayama, cory wong, STS9, my morning jacket, etc. listened to a great podcast interview with alana rocklin, the bassist for STS9 on the drive home on monday, like truly such a talented musician. that show fully changed me, i was hypnotized and extremely awake. looking forward to getting into their discography and live performances, to hopefully see them again at 4 in the morning.

i wasn't sure what to listen to right away, if it would be overkill to relive that music immediately. but it's what i ended up wanting, so i leaned into that. drove to work yesterday listening to photo id by remi wolf twice. she is going to change pop music. i listened to some of her other songs, which i enjoyed so thoroughly live.

once i got to work i picked a random playlist i had saved on spotify and landed on stereolab-ish by andrew corbett. whoever you are, you did great.

enjoyed the phenomenal handclap band, queued up some dip in the pool. found a cool website (https://www.fondsound.com), read the retinae review, the o boy by salon music review, then listened to it on youtube.

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put my june 2018 playlist on shuffle during lunch, i'm ready to listen to it again. it exists in an entirely different context now, outside of tampa, outside of 21. so much of it is so tied to that time, i was back at the stoplight at westshore after getting off the howard franklin during an afternoon storm again listening to earth by giraffage. in the backseat on the way to san luis obispo while listening to the right thing by james supercave.

i was working through some open tabs back at work, reading about STS9, hexstatic, ambient pop music, music from memory, the siket disc by phish. accidentally landed on that phish album while searching for quadraphonics on spotify (which i read about in a youtube comment on the salon music album). ambient phish forever.

proceeded back to rotation 24 on spotify, i've set myself up with quite the mix.

added dyslectic by amber #2 from the these are testing times compilation by 555 recordings to my suuuuuuuper lowkey playlist, only song they have on spotify, let's see if i can find anything about them online. found this album on discogs and youtube and not much else.

been listening to thalia zedek and her band. debbie friedman core, very dykey and safe. like driving through the vermont countryside on an overcast evening in september. that 2002 camp counselor turtleneck kitchen island type feeling i only know how to describe in those terms. reunion, redemption, an event planned via a months long email chain. her cover of you're a big girl now is very much worth a listen. like waiting in the parking lot after whitewater rafting, a long bus ride back.

i flipped through june 2018 and rotation 24 for the rest of the evening and then ended the night with dryfruit by sugar plant, a delicious summer evening record to seal off the day.

i'll be going through this rotation playlist for the next few days, diving deeper into minimum chips, color filter, god street wine, and sts9. enjoying this post bonnaroo connection to music again.

#harkive #stereolab #sts9 #salon music #thalia zedek #slowcore #my return to jam bands is approaching

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fevzenero · 2 years

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Camping at Armichelle’s Haven

The date is 2023-01-28. I had a trip scheduled to Alfonso, Cavite. I was excited and anxious at the same time. I was excited because I got to use three items I have recently acquired for riding and also it would be the first time since I got to use 𝙺 𝙽 𝙸 𝙶 𝙷 𝚃 𝙼 𝙰 𝚁 𝙴 for an out of town ride. The last known ride that I can remember using said motorcycle was from 2017. I was anxious because it has been a long time since I have used it and I was thinking it would breakdown during my ride.

My friends were already there at the camp site since Friday. I went there on the second day, Saturday, since I still had work. I was advised to get a leave but I think I will have to use it for some other time.

I took off at around past 1000AM since I was also checking the weather in the early morning. I do not want to ride on a rainy day and fortunately, the weather that time was awesome. Everything seems to be going well, I hope.

Since that was the first time using my motorcycle for an out of town ride, I limited my speed to just around 60kph top speed. It was the right speed to feel the ride and also my ride all through out.

Everything went well as I planned to do stop overs to check on the engine but since it was doing fine, I only took one stop over just to be sure. I also stopped so that I could take a quick break and bought something to eat on a small store along the road.

There were a number of instances wherein I had to really slow down to 20kph or 40kph since it was abnormally windy that day, from Emilio Aguinaldo Highway to Tagaytay Nasugbu Highway in particular. The blow from the winds was strong enough to force me to move against on the other side of the road which is very dangerous since it was a long stretch and cars are not affected by the strong winds. I would end up smashing to some cars accidentally if that were to happen.

I finally reached Inusungan Road, only a few hundred meters to the camp site. I did some research of the roads since I was told that the camp site was located off road and Google Maps was not able to record or show the place in the map. It only recorded a portion of the small passable road to the place. Well, the images captured was from years ago and should have expected that it would be very different now.

The off road was not I expected it to be from what I have seen in the maps. My friends were so nice that they did not inform me of the struggle they had when they traversed said road. Just kidding. They knew if they informed me about it, I would not push through to with the trip. I recorded the road and apologies on the cursing, as I really did not expect that it was that bad. When I saw the road, I said to myself that I came a long way just for me to turn around and go home. I pushed with it since the place was just hundreds of meters away.

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It took me 15 to 20 minutes before I reached the site. Good thing, I used this motorcycle since if I used my other motorcycle or the car, both will have their bottom parts be scrapped by the uneven road.

The camp site was very nice and considerably huge, very different from the road that you should encounter before getting there. Was traversing that off road worth it because of the place? Maybe. I think so. If only they could do something about it.

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I changed clothes immediately after I did a little bit of recording of the place. I forgot to mention, the weather was abnormally cool that day. Well Tagaytay was always known to be a cool place but all rides I made before this trip were sunny and hot. I would end up sweating heavily and have a number of change of clothes.

The place was definitely huge. You can build your tent anywhere. You can rent or you can bring your own. There are available platforms that can be put under your tent so that you won’t be having issues with the uneven ground. There were also small houses, which can accommodate two or three persons if you do not prefer tents to sleep in over the night.

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Unfortunately, the skies were cloudy that time. My friends told me it was also the same yesterday and it even rained. Good thing I did not join them on their first day. I really hate the rain when I am out of the house, specially out of town.

They planned for a bon fire on site and the people there was able to entertain their request. They brought marshmallows to heat and pair it with grahams. I was skeptical at first on the taste of both but when I tried them, it was actually nice. I did gobble up three or four sets. I never knew that they tasted that good. It was my first time trying one.

So this is a picture of the group at the campsite. From left to right, that’s Ish (wife of Tos), me, JJ and Tos. Tos and his wife are the adventurous people of the group and JJ is surely the one being pulled to join. And me, I am just there to increase the number. HAHAHA! Just kidding, I also wanted to experience camping and joined them with their trip.

Here is me trying to heat the marshmallow so I can already spread it between grahams and gobble it up. Not really sure if what I was doing is correct as I do not know when is the marshmallow already ok to consume. I was concentrating on it so it will not fall when I end up heating it too much.

I believe the fire only lasted for less than an hour since the materials used to burn were only coconut husks, Sadly, we were not able to finish all the marshmallows and grahams.

We went to bed at around 1100PM since it’s getting kind of too cold outside. We have two tents available. One for Tos and Ish and the other was for JJ and me. Sleeping through the cold night was only a small part of the struggle, as I do shared the tent with JJ who is a bit of a loud snorer. I can’t really tell if the snoring was the reason I was not able to sleep all through out the night. I was able to sleep in the sleeping quarters of one of my previous employers where a lot of people there are loud snorers. Maybe the combination of the cold weather and not having a jacket, sleeping on the ground inside the tent and a snoring friend beside sleeping were some of the reasons, but I still was able to sleep after adjusting somehow.

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There was nothing much to do the next day. More or less getting breakfast, chilling and packing up. Ish was the one doing all the cooking and the boys, we pretty much did the eating. Well we helped, kind of. I think.

The place was really great. The view was awesome at sun rise. I was not able to appreciate it on my first day since I was exhausted from the ride but it really is a nice place to camp. I do hope they fix the off road issue. It is the only thing I could think of them needing to fix.

We started packing up at around 1000AM. We were to meet at the Orient in Tagaytay Sta Rosa Highway since I was on my motorcycle and the three of them were in a car. I was able to witness on how they manage to get out of the place on that small uneven off road. It really was a struggle and I was also stressed looking at them even tho I was not the one driving.

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Not really my thing, but camping recently made me interested. I already had experiences with sleeping in tents from beach getaways. Maybe because there were no heavy activities that had happened and we all just there chilling near the tent which is way more fun for me, in my opinion.

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aimlessarchery · 2 years

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🐕-A memory of teamwork

(from the ‘more memories’ ask meme !)

Python pushes the flap of his tent (their tent, really) open, yawning widely enough to feel the stretch in his jaw. He steps blearily past the glowing remains of a campfire he'd set hours ago—the lingering chill of Wyrmstym hasn't quite dissipated, but it's far too high a risk to create a beacon bright enough to draw attention from any unsavory folk that might be lingering out by the roads. Forsyth had remarked on the increase in their numbers a year or two ago, and that was before a regicide could really stir people up into a violent fuss. True to his vigilant (high strung) nature, Forsyth sits with his back to the fire facing out into the dark. Python drops a hand on his shoulder as he approaches.

"Stand down soldier, your turn's up. Go get some rest before morning."

Forsyth whirls around at the touch, coiled tight like a spring. Or maybe pulled taut like an old, frayed rope, given the dark shadows beneath his eyes that can't be completely attributed to the low light of the fire. "Hwa--? Oh, Python!" A stubborn light still flickers in those hazel irises, shadowed or not. "No, don't worry about me. I don't think I could sleep if I tried." Python strides around to Forsyth's side and sits beside him, blithely ignoring his companion's assertions. "Yeah? Well I'm not interested in waking up to an axe in my back after your knightly nerves finally knock you out. Why don't you try anyway?" "…I will not deny that my perceptive ability is…hindered, right now." Forsyth fidgets with his lance, wearing the grimace that he always does when Python backs him into a corner in their arguments. "But that does not change that sleep will not find me in my current state." Python stretches his limbs in preparation for properly settling in. It's going to be a few dark, chilly hours before the sun finally rises to greet them. "You could go hide from it in our tent if y'want." He throws a sidelong glance Forsyth's way. "Either way. I'm makin' sure nothing else finds us out here." "Hide? Perish the thought." Forsyth's response is as predictable as ever. A small smile plays at Python's lips. What's slightly less expected is the warm weight against his side when Forsyth settles against his shoulder, so suddenly and quietly that it's unlikely he'd thought too much about the gesture. "Thank you, Python. I hope your own rest was fruitful." Python huffs a voiceless laugh. "Mine always are," he lies. Sleep was difficult enough on the regimented schedule of a soldier, with rough spun sheets awaiting him in the barracks at night when he could finally lay to rest. Now he'd traded the stone walls of a fortress for the thin canvas of a tent to keep out the elements for the past two nights; a simple bedroll his only sanctuary after hours of trekking halfway across the countryside. Following Forsyth is an exhausting journey—has been ever since he packed up and trailed behind him down the path out of their little village. The tent-pitching and fire starting and night watch bickering on the way to a new destination would almost, almost be nostalgic, if it weren't so damned miserable. The songs of crickets and frogs blur together into a high-pitched chorus, the only sound save for the sporadic pop or crack from the campfire. A gust of wind sets a shiver up Python's spine that's soothed by the warmth of the body next to him. He glances down, mouth open to comment on how surprisingly quiet he's been, and shuts it. Forsyth's eyes are closed. Python exhales with a helpless smile, shifting slightly to accommodate Forsyth's weight as his breathing slows. "Looks like it got you," he murmurs under his breath. "Relax. I'll make sure nothin' else finds you tonight."

#[ ic ]#[ ask ]#[ headcanon ]#[ drabble ]#// dunno JUST how 'teamwork'-y this is but theyre uhhh tag-teaming night watch poorly!#// forsyth's job is Blanket #// also all forsyth dialogue & gestures & such were provided directly by pat! <3 #// readmore'd for length

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venerex · 2 years

Text

non-flat

pairing: joshua x gn!reader

word count: 1.2k

contains: sex descriptions (but no actual sex), reader has some unspecified medical conditions and body insecurities, descriptions of body shape and stretch-marks (might be a trigger for someone with weight-related insecurities)

a/n: writing this so i can hopefully sleep after. this isn't thought through and it sort of turned into something else, but i'm not mad about it. i never proofread, forgive any mistakes.

“something wrong?”

you open your eyes at joshua’s question, before cursing yourself internally and taking a deep breath, relaxing your body.

you’ve been dating joshua for a while now (3 months, but who’s counting), and despite both of your busy schedules, you’ve managed to go on quite a lot of dates (13, but it’s not like you’re keeping count). and while you’ve been basically ready to jump him since he showed up at the new cat-themed cafe for your first date - looking rather delicious in simple jeans and a shirt that hugged him just right - he gave no hints of wanting something more. even when the topic of sex came up on the seventh date, he just said that he was in no rush and that you can have as long as you want.

you’ve never been the one initiating sex, so you just smiled and kissed him - not sure how you could properly convey just how much you wanted to tear off the black turtleneck he had on.

you finally gave in two days ago, and texted him if he wanted to spend the night with you after your next date. after some clarifications (let’s not get into how embarrassing it was for you to say that yes, it is about sex), it was decided - you and joshua hong would have sex after your date at the amusement park.

you thought that maybe you ought to change the plan, think of something a little more romantic than rides that make you borderline nauseous and unhealthy snacks and juvenile games. you should’ve known that joshua would make any setting perfect. dates with your boyfriend have always left you giddy and wonderful - but even more so today, when he took every opportunity possible to wrap his arm around your shoulder, and kissed you every chance he got. you won a toy for him? a smiley thank-you kiss on your cheek. you’re nervous about a ride that he seems excited for? a kiss on your lips to assure you that he doesn’t mind not getting on it. you’ve got ketchup on the corner of your mouth? a kiss where he determinedly traces your lips with his tongue.

needless to say, his insistent touchiness and knowing looks only built up the anticipation even more, and you almost cheered out loud when he asked if you were ready to leave.

given his behavior throughout your relationship, you thought joshua might be rather tentative in bed - unsure and apprehensive, scared about doing the wrong thing. you could not have been more wrong.

as he was throughout your relationship, you suppose you should’ve expected him to be sure and attentive - his keen eyes taking in your reaction while his fingers and lips explored your body. the confidence took you by surprise, your moans in response only spurred on by his borderline cocky “yeah, baby? like this?” every time you writhed under his touch.

he was attentive later too, wrapping his arms around you and asking you if you were feeling alright, placing kisses on your face and murmuring about how the two of you should’ve done this much sooner. “i agree”, you had replied, “i was waiting for you, but got too impatient”. he giggled. you’re sure you’re in love.

which brings you to the present, with joshua’s hand resting on your stomach, his legs tangled with yours. your body had tensed instinctively at the action.

despite the many medical conditions it has, you don’t really dislike your body, not really. sure, it sucks to have chronic pain and to know that you can’t help how the results of some diseases show up in your appearance - it’s still your body, and while it’s not perfect, it still performs most tasks it needs for a fulfilling life.

you don’t dislike your body, but that doesn’t mean you’re immune from insecurities. your skin is littered with stretch marks and you’ve never been thin - and while both of those things are completely normal, the plain “flawless” bodies on the internet have a way of creeping up in your brain (even though you try to avoid that thinking).

your nerves earlier were outmaneuvered by your need for joshua and his breathless praises, but it’s different now. the two of you aren’t consumed by lust now, and his hand is on your very non-flat stomach. he had noticed your nervous reaction, ever the attentive man.

stretch marks are normal, non-flat stomachs are normal, insecurities are normal. but fuck, sometimes you wish you didn’t have any of them.

“oh, it’s nothing”, your answer comes out strangled.

“what is it?”, he asks again, concerned eyes looking at you, “are you hurt? did i -”

“no”, you shake your head, “it’s nothing like that, really”.

“then?”

“well, i -”, you take a deep breath, feeling hyper-aware of his hand on your stomach, “your hand”.

“what about it?”

“my stomach. it’s not flat”.

joshua blinks, his thumb rubbing your skin soothingly.

“so?”

“so?”, you echo, “well, that’s - “, you swallow, “never mind”.

you never should’ve said anything. this isn’t a conversation you want to have naked, not after the first time you’ve had sex with your boyfriend.

“no, tell me”, he’s insistent. he’s not going to let this go.

“so”, you answer, “it’s not exactly hot, yknow? not very attractive”.

“what?”, he sounds genuinely bewildered.

you’re sure he knows what you’re talking about. he’s an idol, for god’s sake. he knows how bodies are perceived, he gets subjected to it all the time.

“oh, come on”, you snort, and it comes out with an edge, “you’re an idol, you know what i’m talking about. flat stomachs are considered hotter. i’m not saying it’s right to think so, but -”

“no, it’s not right to think so”, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so worked up, “and i’m an idol, which is why i know how fucking stupid this is. how your stomach looks has nothing to do with how hot you are”.

“okay”, you say softly, “i’m sorry”.

“no - baby”, one hand reaches to cup your face, attentive eyes meeting yours, “why are you apologizing? you didn’t do anything wrong”.

“no, i know. i don’t really believe in this stuff either, but sometimes it - “, you stop, unable to find words.

“it creeps in”, he finishes, “i understand. it’s okay”.

“yeah”, you give him a half smile.

“well, just in case it isn’t clear”, his hand rests on your stomach again, squeezing slightly, “i like all of you. you’re pretty fucking hot”.

“josh”, you roll your eyes but smile giddily, your arms wrapping around him as you return the kiss he places insistently on your lips. the hand on your stomach moves to squeeze your butt, and your squeal into the kiss, his grin turning into a gasp as your skin makes contact with his erection.

“again, already?”, you whisper against his lips.

“i don’t know if i told you, but i’ve thought about this for a really long time”, he hitches one of your legs over his, his lips trailing kisses to your jaw, “and you’re pretty fucking hot”.

#seventeen smut #joshua smut #svt smut #hong joshua smut #hong jisoo smut #joshua x reader #joshua imagines #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader

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ronearoundblindly · 2 years

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Whattt I just read the Mr and Mrs Smith thing and I loved it it was so frkn good!! love the movie too . It made me think of Tony and Peppers dynamic so if you'll like an au could we get the girl Friday thing where Stevie is more of an idiot than usual, they are pretty smart as individuals but they both share one brain cell when they're together still she puts out all his fires I think it'll be nice to have someone do that for Steve as opposed to Steve always doing that for ppl.

CEO!Steve x assistant!reader (see series)

This got way longer than I intended, but it took everything in me to minimize this to a one-shot (well that f***ing escalated! It's a three-parter now). 😂 Warnings for zero editing and drinking. Non-powered, modern AU btw. This part is ~2.5k

Eighty-Third Time's the Charm (1 of 3 yeah, yeah, it's 4 + a 5pt follow up now, haha, joke's on me): WORK

Steve’s been the logistic coordinator for Stark Industries since Tony took over for Howard. Howard hired Steve to acquire and transport materials for his early projects, and Steve’s own business grew from there. He now handles most of the further distributors for Stark Tech across the globe, and you’re his secretary.

Assistant.

Right hand.

Ok, well, maybe both of Steve’s hands and his mouth because his brain is already doing ninety things at any given moment. He needs a lot of help, and that takes time. Unreasonably lengthy amounts of time that can (and do frequently) span more than the average working and waking day.

You’re happy to do it. You love the work. It’s a challenge in quantity, not quality, and most of the men (because it is almost entirely men) who you deal with are happy to do as they are told when you smile and make them feel heard.

Really, the only challenge is to smile that much in person and on video calls. You never thought you’d be so excited to handle something by email every now and again.

Trip #83 with Steve Rogers takes you both three days overnight to a big city not far from where you grew up. You even have a few school friends who live in town, and you’ve made very tentative plans to see an old high school flame if the schedule permits, which it just barely seems to as the clock inches past 6:37.

Those 7 o’clock drinks can’t pour themselves fast enough.

In your hotel room, you’ve just shed the professional pant suit for light, breezy dress (something both easy to wear and easy to pack) and are in the process of typing out a confirmation of the restaurant when the call waiting comes up.

Steve.

“Hey, where is the contract for Sauters’?”

“We confirmed it all with them before the flight here, boss. Why—“

“I want the language changed to reflect payment before they take possession. They’re delinquent again. I’m not gonna allow them to keep profiting off of our efficiency while they sit with a thumb up their butts.”

“Sir, it really would be more impactful if you just said asses. I don’t think your mum is going to hunt you down for that.”

“Absolutely not. Ok, room 1512, bring the copy and patch in legal.”

“Wait, boss, I—“

The boop boop boop lets you know you’ve been hung up on, and you’re about to pass the feeling on to cute Jimmy from fourth period senior english. Damn. You rewrite the text and send your apologies.

Steve’s all in a flourish, head run amuck with little things to change here and there in the 26-page agreement. It all takes another three and a half hours. He had room service delivered, has poured you both a splash of something from the mini bar, and finally, finally sits down and looks at you.

“What is that,” he blurts.

It takes a moment to figure out what he means.

“A dress, sir. I…I was…I’d made plans for drinks with a friend.”

“Here?”

“I grew up about an hour away, yeah.”

He swirls his drink around, not admitting—though it’s painfully clear—that he had no idea you weren’t from New York. He looks at his watch for the first time all day.

“Ah, I suppose apologies are in order for…” He waits for his bait to catch.

“Jim,” you slowly add. “Don’t worry. I let him know the instant you called. I’ve met you. I knew how this would go.”

How much of this scotch did you sip all at once? You don’t normally talk to Steve—Mr. Rogers— like that, but he seems good and chastised for a moment, draining his tumblr in one go and returning to the bar.

“Well, I can’t replace Jim—“ he spikes the name with sharp tone you’ve never heard before “—but I can offer you a drink here.” His gaze, once it finds yours after dragging up your legs, is expectant and intent. It’s the first time he’s ever waited for an answer from you that he didn’t already know before asking.

It’s also the first time you aren’t quite sure you understand what Steve is asking. Eighty-three trips in and countless hours with the man, and this is the least prepared you’ve ever felt.

“Already had mine, sir.” You set your empty glass down on the small table between you. “We have a long day tomorrow, or rather, I do, but I’ll be sure to inform you when the Sauters are settled.”

It’s just instinct to smooth the front of your dress when you stand, but the rake of Steve’s eyes forced down you by the move completely throws you.

“I’m sorry you wasted an outfit,” he adds, quietly, too low and deep to not sharply flame a heat that sparks out of nowhere in your gut.

“Right.” You gather up your things. “No great loss. It’ll keep. If that’ll be all, boss?”

When your eyes return across the room, Steve’s standing there with an empty little bottle still tilted over his glass. He’s just staring, lost in thought about god-knows-what.

“Get some sleep,” he mutters absently.

“Of course.”

You pour your own drink from your room’s mini bar and take a long bath. You’ve been up since 5am in order to get you and Mr. Rogers to the airport in time. That’s what you blame your runaway thoughts on. You do everything for that man. You know practically everything about that man. You know that he hasn’t gone on any sort of social date in at least seven months (a fact even his mother calls to remind you of), and you know that Tony takes him out to gentleman’s clubs and has women serve them at all their joint business dealings.

You have literally sat beside Pepper Potts and joked about this while watching Tony get a lap dance and Steve chat up a waitress. Why your mind still entertains those thoughts after all you know is beyond human understanding, and after a day like today, you can hardly categorize yourself as human.

You need the rest for sure.

You’re already back on the phone by breakfast time, consuming strong tea and a croissant bite-by-bite while the American Capsules’ legal discusses the changes with SauterCorp’s legal.

Line-by-fucking-line.

You knew this would happen. It’s why you told them to start early. Of course, the team members you are on the phone with are different ones from last night because those folks worked late and are off work to make up for the overtime. You’re breathing in the smell of your drink with closed eyes like it’ll mainline the caffeine up your sinuses to your brain.

When you open your eyes, Steve’s pulling out the chair in front of you, ordering his own breakfast and motioning for a fresh pot of tea. He says nothing while you work.

Plates of food arrive and Steve reads the paper, glancing up every so often when you write a note to yourself about a follow-up after the call. After a while, he pushes a plate of scrambled eggs towards you and flips over a fork for you to take. He doesn’t take no for an answer, but since the call is finally wrapping up, you oblige and wolf down a few bites before typing out an email of your notes.

Steve asks a few questions of his own while refreshing both cups of tea and not bothering to offer sugar for yours. You…weren’t aware he knew that about you.

Until the car comes in an hour to get you to your next meeting, there’s nothing on the agenda, but you fully expect Steve to cram in a breakdown of the afternoon. Instead, he sips tea and folds the paper round and round until he’s done with all his interesting bits. You get to people watch, pedestrians outside the floor to ceiling windows of the hotel’s café bustling past in both directions.

Your attention is brought back when the table is cleared off, but Steve is no longer focused on the paper or the people. He sits and watches you again.

You smile as politely as you can even though you feel pinned down in the stare. “We better get going,” you advise, packing your things away.

Steve does put down his cup but doesn’t move otherwise.

“It’s your color.” He squints just slightly at his own revelation, relaxing back into his chair. “The dress.”

You have to swallow and clear your throat at that. “Yes, I suppose it’s one of my favorite colors.”

“It suits you.”

There’s no irony. Steve simply looks at you, blinks, looks some more, and it’s like you accidentally sat down naked in the lobby. His blue eyes are just that piercing.

“Thank you,” you say out of habit more than understanding and hurry on with the day.

It pours down rain for most of the afternoon, drenching your shoes as you traipse back and forth to the car with Steve. You have an umbrella, but nothing stops the puddles invading.

“I can’t do this,” you finally snap on the way back to the hotel. You’re on the verge of tears. The sides of your leather heels have rubbed the back of one ankle and the top outside of the other foot raw, almost/possibly bloody. It takes effort to peel them off your skin, and you hiss in pain.

Steve sits across the backseat completely horrified.

“I know, I’m so sorry. I’ll put them back on—“

Steve puts a hand out to stop you.

“Driver,” he calls, “is there a first aid kit back here? No, no, we just need a few bandaids.” The reassurance cuts off panic from the front, and after the click of the glove compartment sounds, a small box is offered through the window. Steve thanks him.

“I can do it, sir. Please don—“

That stare pins you again, and there’s dead silence in the back while your boss rips open a few wipes, cleans the blistered skin, dabs antibiotic ointment on the broken parts, and smooths the coverings overtop. You can’t help but notice how tender his touch is, but he’s just being thoughtful. It doesn’t mean anything.

As Steve returns to his seat (after it feels like a struggle to break eye contact), he gets a call.

His friend Bucky Barnes is in town, too, on a quick layover before a transatlantic flight and long business trip. The two don’t get to talk as much as they’d like, and you know they don’t see each other very often either.

“Of course, we’ll do dinner, Buck. Name the place.”

We will do what now?

You start waving your hands and miming towards your feet.

Steve eyes you a second. “No, right, I will meet you there in—driver, how long is it to Chinatown from the hotel? Yeah, so about an hour from now? Excellent.”

You might have interpreted that wrong. He meant ‘we’ as in him and Bucky, no doubt. In case he didn’t though…

“Shall I call and make reservations for you two?”

“He’s handling it. Traveling with a few associates who know the area and the restaurant.”

“It’s a good one. You can dress down there.”

Steve offers a ghost of a smile as he looks down at his layers of clothing, pondering. He glances at your bandaged feet and looks like he’ll say something before shucking off his coat, and then his suit jacket, and then his vest.

Without a word, you hold out your arm to take the unnecessaries back upstairs.

“You don’t have to,” Steve all but whispers.

He’s never questioned using your service. Ever. He tosses the clothes onto the back-facing seats across the car and undoes the first two buttons beneath his tie. The car stops at the entrance just as he pulls the tie loose.

Shoes in one hand, briefcase slung over your shoulder, you sigh loudly and hold out your hand again very close to his face.

Steve drapes the tie across your palm.

“Have a good dinner, sir.”

You collect the rest and walk in barefoot. You don’t look back.

Next Part Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi

Again, full disclosure: I have never seen the movie His Girl Friday. Just going off a synopsis and running away with it, but now that I've PLOTIFIED the whole damn thing, you're getting three cute-ass chapters *and you'll like it* bwahahahahaha

divider by @firefly-graphics

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darthmaulification · 2 years

Note

for the request, something involving darth maul and alien senses? maybe he likes to look at reader in a nearly dark room where they can't see how fond his expression is but he can still see them clearly, or how his hearing and smelling is far more acute than a humans.

A/N: ... so... back to the regularly scheduled program... totally doesn’t feel like a very strange 180...

my last posts/reblogs have been very political, so if you didn’t follow me for that sort of thing, i get it, but also this is my blog, and i’m politically active irl, and politics are dumb but important, especially with what’s been going on in america.

it’s rough on my mental health and general wellbeing, so i tried to distract myself by finishing up this request from... months ago. oops. 😬

hope you enjoy! kiitos! 💗

content: fluff/general, gn!reader, alien biology (sight and smell/taste), established relationship, stranded in space, slightly suggestive, sharing a bed

word count: 1,849

sight

In an instant, the ship is plunged into darkness.

It’s disorienting, almost dizzying, the way that in one moment you could see, and the next you couldn’t. The lights that went out were the ship’s last, the old space freighter that Maul and you... co-opted having taken some damage in the skirmish with the Weequay pirates that once controlled it. Launching into hyperspace in this rust bucket had been a poor decision, you surmised, and you thought of Maul who absolutely knew you were right when you previously advised him not to.

Now, the ship, with Maul and you trapped within it’s metal walls, floats somewhere in deep space, so deep there’s no visible stars, far away from any planet...

And in complete, utter darkness. The pitch black feels consuming, oppressive, and you blink rapidly but nothing changes— only the warmth on your eyeballs shifts. There’s a shuffle of fabric and metal clanking from somewhere around you, and you swivel your head in the direction you think the noise came from.

“Maul?” You call out, taking a single, tentative step because before the ship had lost full power, you had been unlucky enough to be up from the copilots chair and halfway across the cockpit. He doesn’t reply, there’s no other noise, and you strain to listen— practically hearing the blood pump in your veins, your own breathing, your heartbeat. Everything is amplified with your sense of sight stripped, everything is practically tangible.

“Maul?” You say his name again, growing increasingly uncomfortable with his silence, eyes darting uselessly and seeing nothing. It also feels as though your voice sounds louder in the inky blackness, reverberates more effectively off hidden metal walls. Maker, it’s impressive— This isn’t your average, everyday darkness— this is advanced darkness. You frown, shuffling and almost stumbling over your own feet.

“Maul, I’m serious. You better not be mes—” Two large, warm hands grab each of your forearms and pulls a small shriek from your lips. Heart racing, Maul responds with a low chuckle— from directly in front of you— and his presence, the heat of him, becomes so prominent it’s almost overwhelming. Your thoughts go wild: How long has he been there? How was he so quiet? How did he know exactly where you—

“Easy, my dear.” He purrs, teasingly, and one of his hands releases your arm, and you tense lightly when it reappears at your hip. You’re quick to relax, especially when Maul’s thumb rubs circles over your pants, occasionally hooks in your belt loop. Lips curling up in a quirked smile, your brows furrow when Maul chuckles under his breath.

“Maker, you are cruel!” You laugh, reaching up and smacking his chest, though your aim is off and you think you clip the edge his shoulder instead. It’s at that moment— your hands clumsily grasping at his chest, his tunic, fingers splaying and toying— that you look up, and in the infinite shadows you’re able to see one thing— or technically two:

Maul’s eyes.

Yes, his eyes— twin yellow orbs sitting directly where his eyeline would be when he stands, twin flames in the dark. They glow, the fiery yellows and oranges stand out against the inky backdrop, superimposed via the right of soft, amber light that emits from them. Of course— Dathomir, Zabraks, night vision.

“Hello.” Maul drawls, and he blinks, the phantasmal flames of his irises disappearing for a split second, then reappearing— his pupils ablaze. Mirth dances in them, his expression so clearly that mix of smug and prideful he gets when he’s acting mischievous.

“Hi.” You reply softly, smiling when Maul cups your cheek, the pad of his thumb grazing along your bottom lip. He lightly lifts your chin, tilting your head side to side curiously, toying with you like a Loth cat would it’s prey. His blistering gaze goes dewy, his eyelids falling halfway and skewing the glow. Maul’s warm thumb passes your lips again, and this time you kiss it. You can see the smile in his stare.

“Mm... how screwed do you think we are?” You inquire, half serious, half-joking, mostly because you’re too lost in the tenderness to really care. Maul shrugs under your palms, and his eyes close (again) then open (again) and it’s so visceral how you’re able to watch them flicker— Like candle lights or will-o’-the-wisps.

“Decently. Savage might know where we are.” Maul deadpans, and you know you’ll both have plenty of time to somewhat panic later (especially when the cold of space starts to seep at the ship), but for now you’re able to find solace in each other. Maul leans in and kisses your smiling cheek, then pulls back and turns towards the transparisteel canopy of the cockpit. Just beyond the glass, the inky black of starless infinity sits in wait.

“Well, then...” You start, taking a couple cautious steps towards Maul and his blistering eyes, “That just means we have some... us time.”

Although you can’t see it, Maul’s face splits into a wolfish grin, and as you reach his arms, it grows and reaches his eyes which flash like a supernova. Maul seizes you by your waist in the darkness, and a squeal escapes you when he lifts you up into his arms. Then, a heated kiss is pressed to your collar bone, teeth pulling and gnashing at the fabric of your shirt as Maul’s frenzied lips pull away.

“Oh, indeed.” And his mouth then falls on yours, all tongue and passion with hardly any care for the world. Your face warms, and you succumb to the heat of Maul, all his shadows, and his twin flames.

scent (+ taste)

The balcony curtains sway gently in the breeze, the soft rose light of early morning on Mandalore spilling into the suite. Sunbeams touch your closed eyes, and with a groan, you turn and dig your face into the plush pillow beneath your head. Silken sheets and a soft mattress beckon you back to the clutches of sleep, but besides you, your lover stirs as well.

Maul groans, then sighs low out his nose with a deep exhale, and then goes quiet. You smile into your pillow, not bothering to open your eyes to see that Maul’s awake, his stare on you. It’s so strong, even after just waking, that you can feel it prickle your skin. Goosebumps raise, hairs stand on end, and the bed dips as Maul purrs, “Good morning, my dear.”

Two warm hands press on your back, kneading your muscles and gliding up and down your spine. You make a noncommittal noise, opting to play the long game that both you and Maul enjoy. When you don’t offer any further response, Maul growls lightly and in your head you can practically see the pout of a sneer on his face.

“Good morning, my dear.” Maul repeats with a bit more force, though there’s no bite to his words. Testing your luck, you make a soft grunt again and Maul’s hands freeze on your sides, then squeeze your plush. It’s the long game, the fun one that all too often you and Maul play— pushing boundaries and pressing buttons. Anything to ruffle each other’s feathers, all in good fun of course.

Maul catches on soon enough, because then the wetness of a tongue slides it’s way up the center of your back to your earlobe, leaving a slick trail in it’s wake.

“Maul!” You cry out his name with a muffled laugh into the pillow, arching your back at the sensation, and jokingly squeal, “Gross!”

“Wake up then, my dear, my love— my light of lights.” Maul growls playfully, his nose pressed on your hairline, nuzzling and nipping at your ear. One of his horns grazes the side of your head, catching in your hair, and then the weirdest sensation of air pulling upwards causes you to tense. Maul then sighs, his breath warm on your skin, and then another suck of air, then an exhale, and it’s then you realize Maul is sniffing you.

“What are you doing?” You ask for clarification, shivering when Maul drags his nose deeper into your hair, nuzzles, and inhales deeply. The goosebumps on your skin spread, the feeling ticklish and odd, but not entirely unwelcome. Especially because Maul seems to be enjoying what he’s doing, hence his satisfied purrs and the slight grin you can practically see on his face.

“You smell nice.” Maul replies simply, dragging his nose the length of the column of your neck. He settles at the junction of your jaw, nuzzling in deeper, the small horn at his temple brushing against your earlobe. It pokes your skin, and you smile, but then you think about what he’s said, and your brow furrows.

“I probably smell like sleep and ‘in need of a shower’.” You speak through giggles, tilting your head best you can into the pillow to allow Maul better access to your neck. He hums in reply, nipping and sniffing at the skin under your jaw, his nose pressed along your pulsing jugular. By now, he’s near completely atop you, his hands plastered at your sides, holding himself above you. It takes some effort, but you manage to roll over on to your back, shuffling within the silk sheets.

“Mm... I disagree. You smell like you— Which is to say, like desire, heaven, and ambrosia.” Maul murmurs, lowering himself so that his muscular body is almost flush with yours, acting like a living weighted blanket. One of his arms slithers under your waist, tugging you up slightly as his hand plants firm on your side.

“Really now?” You sigh, eyes fluttering shut when Maul’s warm lips plant lazy, wet kisses on your neck, traveling down to your collar bones where he sucks a mark on the center of your chest. Maul can’t seem to get enough of you, his mouth and nose wild in their mission to mark and claim and scent every inch of skin he can reach. Minutes pass of just Maul sniffing you down, rubbing his scent on you, licking, biting, kissing. By the time he answers, your head is fuzzy with arousal, and you can barely open your eyes to stare all dewy-eyed up at him.

That wicked, wolfish grin on that crimson face of his greets you, as do Maul’s molten eyes. You watch his tongue lackadaisically glide over his lips, wetting them. Maul looks ravaged, wild-eyed and dizzying, practically drunk off your scent. Behind him, the light of the morning casts a glow around his head and makes his crown of horns look like a halo.

“You render me insatiable.” Maul growls, and then his head dips back to your body, nose to the skin above your heart where he smells you, and your heartbeat, and the blood that pulses in your veins and runs hot in your flesh. A gasp escapes you, arms drawing him in to the aura of you— all good, all pure, and outside the sun is beaming, and the breeze carries the essence of you and Maul to the heavens.

#star wars #star wars darth maul #darth maul #darth maul x reader #darth maul x you #star wars maul #maul #maul x reader

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stormkobra-5 · 2 years

Note

Heya its me again um you can completely ignore this request if its too much but um

Can i request (only if you are able to) the moonknight boys helping y/n grieving over losing a family member

I lost a family member today and would like some comfort you can ignore this request if its too much

Sorrow and Solace

Pairing: Moon Boys x Reader

Fic Type: Drabble

Summary: When you lose a family member, the boys are there to offer you any comfort they possibly can.

A/N: I'm honored you came to me of all people, nonnie. I hope I can write something good enough for this situation and helps you, buddy. I'm so sorry for your loss. I wish you all the love and comfort in the world.

Rating/Warnings: Dealing losing a family member (unspecified), processing grief, hurt/comfort

It was Marc fronting when you got the call.

He walked into the kitchen to find you holding your phone in a daze, frozen as your mind tried to process what you'd just heard. It was painful, this searing, dull grief. It rose up in your chest unexpectedly, like it had been an animal lying in wait, and lunged for your heart, tearing with icy claws.

Marc noticed your stance immediately. "...Babe? Everything okay?"

You didn't respond immediately, still processing the information. The loss of a family member is a life-changing event, and it surged up out of nowhere. You stagger into Marc's touch when he tentatively reaches for you. "...Baby? You okay?"

You burst into soft sobs, falling into his chest. He held you tightly and close, prepared for some unseen threat. "Hey, hey... Sh, sh, sh..." Rocking you in his arms, he maneuvered you to the couch, bringing you up onto his lap and cradling you in a snug embrace. With a glare that could have killed, he eyed your phone, which was laying on the floor where you'd dropped it, as if it were an enemy.

"Oy, what's happening?" Steven roused himself in the headspace clumsily, tripping over Jake. Their alter cursed in Spanish, trying to wrestle Steven down in their roughhousing way of communicating-- honestly, they were like rowdy misbehaved toddlers, and that was the very last thing you needed right now.

"Guys," Marc said softly as he rubbed your back, trying to hide his irritation. Once they heard your quiet sobs into his shoulder, felt the tight grip of your fists in his shirt, they immediately sprung to their feet and raced to see what was wrong with you.

"You wanna tell us what happened, mi vida?" Jake whispered softly in your ear as he took control of the body, brushing strands of tear-dampened hair out of your face. He pressed soft and tender kisses to your jaw, your temple, your forehead, trying to coax you into telling them what was wrong.

"I-I... um..." You tried to wipe your tears away with a shaky hand. "I-I just got some bad news..."

The boys stiffened, starting to understand. "You wanna talk about it?" Marc offered gently.

A part of you, in your grief-stricken mind, was comforted. It was rare for the boys to co-front, stubborn as they were-- literally, it's-my-turn-with-the-body kind of arguments have occurred and now they stick to a strict fronting schedule-- so usually they now only co-fronted if something extremely dire was happening, and the fact that they considered your well-being in that category was flattering.

"I-I just... um..." You swallowed hard, trying to manage to speak through your sobs enough to translate the reason for your current state. "I just found out that I lost somebody... I just lost somebody in my family."

Steven was the one who fronted then, mouth forming an 'o' of realization. "Oh, love..." He pulled you in to his embrace, kissing the top of your head and cradling you close.

They didn't want to say it's okay. They know that right now, it's not, it's far from, and instead of trying to push your feelings away, they think that you should perhaps let them process. Maybe its okay isn't what you need to hear, but maybe just a shoulder to cry on until it is okay.

"We're here for you, darling," Steven said, kissing your head. "We're right here for you."

Jake fronted, grabbing you by your waist and lifting you up a bit so that he could look you in the eyes. "What do you need us to do, mi vida?"

"Just..." You sniffled, falling back into him. "Just hold me for a little while, okay?"

"We can do that," Jake assured you, rubbing up and down your back. "We're gonna help you through this, mi vida."

Marc switched to the front, readjusting your position so that you were kind of laying on him across the couch. "We're gonna be here for you every step of this process, baby."

"Whatever you need, we're here, dove," Steven added, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

And they held true to that. They made sure that you remembered to eat, but if you couldn't stomach it, they made you drink water-- you drank so much water, it probably more than made up for all the tears you were shedding. They made sure you slept, and they called your work to get you a week or two off to process things more clearly. They stood by your side at the funeral, offering condolences to family members and respect for who was lost.

Every night, or really, any time you cried, they held you in their arms and lulled you to sleep. Sometimes they would sing or read to you, or try to make you laugh. And the day you finally smiled again, you don't think you'd ever seen them beam brighter. "Life keeps going, love," Steven told you one day, "It might hurt sometimes, and it might be hard, especially losing someone; but it keeps going. It doesn't wait for us. We'll meet everyone we've lost again one day, don't you worry. In the meantime, though, we have to stop and smell the roses, so to speak. Smile. That’s what we’re put here to do, innit? To love and laugh?”

“I know,” You said as you held onto him as if for dear life, nestling your head in his sweater-clad chest. “Thank you, guys. For being here for me.”

“Always,” Marc answered into your hair. “Now and forever.”

“We’ll never let you go through anything alone, mi vida,” Jake promised, pulling a blanket up over your shoulders. “You’re never alone. Remember that.”

————————————————————————

I hope this has comforted you, nonnie. I hope you do okay, and just remember we’re all here for you.

#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #request #stormkobra 5 answers #asks #oscar isaac #oscar isaac hernandez estrada

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apompkwrites · 3 years

Text

in your arms || aether, bennett, chongyun

masterlist characters: aether, bennett, chongyun genre: fluff summary: in which their s/o is in desperately need of cuddles. notes: ah i miss cuddles :(( if you can't tell from how i write cuddling, i'm big on physical affection like hugs and stuff. can't do that now tho :( also, hun is a petname i use like... all the time. idk man, i just really like it :D

aether -

i feel like this boy gives some of the best cuddles.

i like to think he's the "older" twin out of the two.

on the coldest nights of their adventures, him and lumine would cuddle up next to each other next to a fire to keep warm (platonically of course).

if you're in teyvat after he's lost his sister, he'd put everything into those cuddles.

he misses her so much and he hates the idea that one day, you'll be gone too.

although he held high statuses in both mondstadt and liyue, aether still preferred to camp outside the city limits.

something about the calm and quiet outdoors brought peace to the otherworldy traveler.

and you never really minded it.

as long as you were able to be next to him, you were content with any living condition.

luckily, it never really affected your nightly cuddles with the blond :)

one day you both split up to handle separate commissions, right?

one brought him all the way to mondstadt while yours required you to head to liyue.

this commission, however, was one you didn't particularly enjoy.

it wasn't because you couldn't handle, because of course you could.

in fact, it was purely because of the neverending stress building on top of you.

so once your commission was complete, you definitely were in need of some good ol' aether cuddles.

you waited for him by your usual spot, the aching feeling in your chest growing more unbearable as time went on.

until eventually--

"(name)! sorry, did you wait long?"

"we brought you some food to make up for it!"

the familiar voices of of your beloved traveler and his emergency food companion called out to you from down the path.

aether was running over to you with paimon in tow.

and you, desperately wanting to wrap your arms around him, ran over to him and met him halfway down the path.

before he could talk again, you had already jumped into him and were squeezing him as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

"wh-whoa! (name)?"

instinctively, he'd wrap his arms around you.

he wouldn't need to ask about how your commission was, he could already tell by how tight your grip was around him.

"c'mere."

he'd pat his hands on your legs, signalling for you to jump up into his arms.

and, of course, you do.

he still needs to set up your tent and all, but he doesn't want to let you go either...

next best plan? just build the tent with you in his arms.

it'd take him longer than it normally would since he was busy holding you, but he'd get it done.

paimon definitely wants to tease the two of you, but she'll save that for tomorrow when you're feeling better :)

once paimon disappears to wherever she goes, it's just you and aether in your tent beneath the moonlight.

you're both accustomed to the hard floor beneath your tent, but that never mattered.

all that mattered was that the two of you were together.

if you're still awake, he'll whisper some stories of how his day was and what happened during his commission.

i like to think his go-to position for cuddling would be the honeymoon hug?

i mean, like i said before, cuddling is something that reassures him that you won't be leaving anytime soon.

so something like that type of cuddling where your both holding each other is his absolute favorite.

but if you're in need of comfort, he'd be laying on his back with you on top of him, his arms wrapped around your waist and hugging you close to him.

he likes to talk to you, surprisingly.

i mean, we've seen how quiet this boy is.

but with you, he'll talk to you even after you've fallen asleep.

"i know today's been kind of rough on you, hun... i hope just being here with me, holding you close to me, is enough to help comfort you."

bennett -

bennett... has absolutely no experience in cuddling whatsoever.

you'd have to be the one to help him out.

he's always afraid something will go wrong due to his bad luck that he's tried his best to stay away from intimate things like that.

plus, he's also very energetic and jittery so cuddling isn't something that's crossed his mind to begin with.

you'd be the one to show him all of the different positions you could do, include those where you're just sitting next to each other.

he's definitely touchy since he's never experienced this before.

still kinda hesitant though because of his luck ://

he needs a lot of reassurance from you before he even thinks about fully cuddling in his sleep.

in fact, a lot of the time it'd be you who's cuddling him after a bad day.

i think his favorite position before fully allowing himself to cuddle would be ones with lingering touches.

like a simple arm slung over the shoulder and your legs crossing each others' in your sleep.

those small gestures.

but once he's used to cuddling...

he loves the idea of having you hold onto him while sleeping.

kinda like the sweetheart cradle with you being the one to hold him.

he just needs that reassurance that you're okay with him and his luck won't do anything to change that.

but sometimes you need to be cuddled too.

you're day has been rough, what with the countless things you needed to do that day (be it because of procrastination, schedule mishaps, etc.)

you'll head towards the adventurer's guild in search of bennett.

his dads all know you, of course, so whoever meets up with you takes him to wherever he is.

you wouldn't need to say a lot to bennett for him to know something's up.

probably just a small hum or murmur would be enough to clue him in.

you'd drape yourself over his back, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and digging your nose into his neck.

he'd jump for a moment, thinking someone else knocked into him because of his luck.

but then he realizes you and he relaxes.

he'd bring his hands up to rub your arm, hearing your muffled whines as he does so.

his dads would already notice you're having a bad day, so they don't say anything that'll disturb you two.

honestly? bennett would probably want to cuddle with you right then and there.

he's not one to get embarrassed too quickly, so he wouldn't mind.

but his dads bring up a good point that you both should probably be resting in an appropriate bed instead of the floor or a bench.

so the two of you would head home as soon as you could!

bennett would talk your ear off about his adventures that day.

if you don't wanna talk, he can do enough for the both of you!

anyway, you'd both head home and jump into bed as soon as you can.

he'd instinctively go to your standard position but then he remembers that you're in need of some well deserved cuddles.

so instead, he'll be the one to hold you close.

he'd let you rest your head on his shoulder or chest.

you could trace the scars running up and down his arms.

he'd rub your back lightly while talking about his adventures again.

he'd tell you tales of the mare jivari he's heard.

and when you're off to sleep, the stress leaving your system, he'd continue to rub his hand along your back.

"how about tomorrow we go on an adventure? just me and you. we could do whatever we want to get your mind off of things..."

chongyun -

this poor boy doesn't cuddle a lot!!!

he's gotta stay cold, y'know?

as much as he'd love to just wrap his arms around you all night, he can't...

but he will try!

he'd definitely try to push himself near the beginning of the relationship.

i'm talking forcing himself to cuddle all night, no matter how hot it gets.

but, as the loving s/o you are, you tell him that it's okay he can't do the full body cuddles like other people.

but he still wants that touch, even if it's a little.

his cuddles are the ones where only a certain body part is touching the other.

like his arm is up against yours or your legs are touching.

those types.

he feels bad he can't do more though :((

he for sure owns those cooling blankets, even if it isn't for cuddling.

if you're under one of those, it's more likely for him to try and give you a hug as you both drift off.

he'd eventually separate from the hug if he's feeling too hot.

and as much as you're okay with those small cuddles with fleeting touches, there are times where you just need a good cuddle full of hugs.

he'd come home from another day of trying to exorcise evil spirits, wanting to simply fall into bed where he knows it's nice and cool.

he'd greet you once he walks into your bedroom but he'd notice...

you're wrapped up in your blanket and hugging your pillow tight, acknowledging his entrance with a simple nod.

he doesn't know what's causing you to feel upset or stressed, but that doesn't really matter anyway.

he'd hop into bed right next to you, slowly unwrapping your body from the blanket.

you're still clutching onto your pillow once the blanket is gone.

he'd have to turn you over for him to even be able to look at you.

you're resting your cheek on top of your pillow while looking up at him with tired eyes.

he'll cup your cheek with his hand, smiling softly when you nuzzle into his cold palm.

he would stay on top of the sheets while you're lower body is tucked underneath it.

he'll rub his thumb along your skin, watching as your eyelids flutter every now and then.

"have you been awake long?"

you shake your head.

"i see... come here."

he'd open up his arms, a gesture you hadn't seen for a long time.

this one, however, was different.

he didn't have a forced smile on his face and his arms weren't tense like before.

this time, he had that soft smile you'd always see when you two are enjoying popsicles together and his arms were relaxed.

you'd scooch over the bed, tossing your pillow behind you as you nuzzle into his chest.

he'd let out a quiet chuckle before pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.

"i'm sorry i don't do this often."

"...it's okay. i like our cuddles no matter what."

"but you deserve this every once and a while."

you'd just hum in response, smiling at the feeling of his thumb rubbing your skin.

he won't talk as much as the other two, opting to keep the calm silence in your room.

you could hear his quiet breaths and his heart beating in his chest.

and you fall asleep to it, the feeling of his arms around your body permanently marked on your skin.

"i normally... get too hot when we cuddle like this. but now... it's feels really nice."

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angry-geese · 3 years

Text

Homesick Remedy

Gojo Satoru x Reader

Warnings: nsfw. Smut and fluff. Tender sex, hickeys/marking, oral (fem recieving), unprotected sex, creampie, breeding mention, praise kink (sort of/interpretable). afab reader.

Notes: Gojo returns home from a job and spends some quality time with the reader. domestic fluff turned smut

You're not quite sure when you hear the door open.

Gojo usually comes home late. It's the nature of his job. Being one of the world's best Jujutsu sorcerers doesn't exactly follow a 9-5 schedule. Curses don't care if you're sleeping. Most nights you would stay up to greet him. Your schedule was nearly as hectic as his, you dealt with this often. If he found you dozing off on the couch he'd press a kiss to your forehead and carry you to bed.

You had gone on a job the day prior. It was nothing of note; something you could easily handle on your own. A curse was proving to be difficult for lower level sorcerers so they sent you in. Mistakenly you let your guard down—only for a moment—and it cost you. The curse landed a blow on you. Nothing fatal. While your injuries weren't the most visible, they sure don't feel that way. You found yourself unwilling to tell Gojo, though. You could take care of yourself, but he always fussed over you. If he noticed something was off this morning, he made no mention of it.

Gojo's hand briefly touches your head, messing up your hair.

"You're home early." You say, reaching your arms out for him, making grabbing motions with your hands.

He leans down to give you a quick kiss before hauling you into his arms. Instinctively you bury your face in his chest, inhaling the woody scent of his cologne. As much as it smells nice, he puts far too much on. The scent tends to linger long after he's left the room. Something metallic hangs onto it. Blood. Although he doesn't appear injured.

Dramatically he flops back onto the couch. You shift so you're sitting in his lap, facing him. Dark circles line the skin under his eyes. It makes you wonder when he's last slept. His hair is a mess. Idly you brush it out of his eyes, tucking it behind his ear.

"Missed me?" This dumb looking grin spreads across his face.

"You? Never."

He visibly deflates. Of course you missed him, but his ego could survive a hit or two. There are very few things you enjoyed more than bullying your boyfriend. All in good fun. He's rarely bothered by it. Unfortunately you love him.

You often wonder how you got so lucky.

When the two of you first met, you couldn't stand each other. It was so long ago that it's hard to believe now. There was an obvious rivalry in school. He was always the best at what he did. Though he was a few years older, and moments you ran into him were rare, so it was often shrugged off. If you found something you thought you'd be good at, he was always better. Growing up, he was annoying like that. For someone like you, it made you furious. You had a petty, competitive streak. You had to be good at everything you did. You had to be one of the best sorcerers. You had to be the best in your class.

And you were, but he was always better.

You're a very talented sorcerer yourself, but it's hard not to feel inadequate standing next to him. Most people could say the same thing. Half of the Jujutsu world either wanted him, or wanted to be him. He always fit in so well.

It wasn't until well into adulthood that your paths crossed for long enough to talk. The two of you were more similar than you ever thought. You gave him a chance. Reluctantly so, but you did. Your work only made the two of you grow closer.

He shifts so you're in a more comfortable position in his arms, head resting against his chest. The sudden movement makes you wince. His demeanor completely changes. Gojo handles you like you're fragile; like you'll shatter in his grasp.

It pisses you off just a little bit.

"Is everything alright?" He asks.

He scans you over for injuries. The feeling of his eyes on your body makes you want to shrink back and hide.

"I may have had my ass handed to me on that last job." You let out a nervous sounding laugh, burying your face in his jacket. You're not quite sure why you're embarrassed. It was a mistake, nothing more. But he never makes them.

You're not sure if that makes it worse or better. So you don't question it.

You lean back in to deepen the kiss. It's the first distraction you can think of. It seems to work. The strong muscle of his tongue pushes past your lips, exploring your mouth. He tastes sweet. The scent of his cologne is heady, and makes your head swim.

"Do you want to?" He asks.

He's almost certain of the answer, but it never hurts to check.

You nod—maybe a bit too quick—but you nod. Despite the way your body aches, you want him.

"We're doing this in bed then." He says.

Gojo doesn't give you any time to respond before he's hauling you up into his arms bridal style, heading straight for your shared bedroom. The way he tosses your body onto the bed is a bit rough. It sends a sharp pain up through your ribs. The bed dips under his weight as he kneels in front of you. As you try to sit up, he pins you. His hands hold your wrists to the headboard, his knees straddling you.

Gojo coaxes your shirt over your head, humming in amusement when he realizes you don't have a bra on underneath. He palms at your breasts, tweaking your nipples between his fingers, working them into stiff peaks. He leans forward to take one into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud. It feels nice, but you can't help the throbbing ache it sends right to your cunt. Your hands tangle in his hair, gently guiding him where you want him most. It hardly takes him any time to turn you into a moaning, babbling mess.

You'll have a collar of hickeys in the morning.

Part of you hates how quickly he can turn you to putty in his hands. He knows all the ways that make you melt.

You palm at the growing tent in his pants. He's half hard, his cock leaking against his thigh. He's been gone so long, maybe you've missed him more than you thought. He's certainly missed you. He always finds himself wanting to come home to you at the end of the day.

You lift your hips enough so he can slide your shorts—along with your panties—completely off. Then Gojo's shirt. They're tossed in a heap to your side, landing by your discarded clothes. You're always surprised at how muscular he is without his jacket. It hides a lot more than you thought, you suppose. His eyes scan over you, and the instinct there is to hide. He notices you shying away and stops for a moment.

"Do you still want to?"

Again, you nod. You'd have stopped him if you really didn't.

He pulls you in for a kiss—just a quick peck this time—then plants one on the tip of your nose. Your cheeks turn bright red at that. His head dips down to press a kiss to your sternum; the valley between your breasts. He trails kisses down your bare stomach. Somewhere during that time his hands find your breasts, kneading the plush flesh. He's always admired the curves of your body. His was nice, but it was all angles and hard muscle.

His cock is around average in size—maybe a bit bigger—about six or so inches. It's pretty, like a pornstar's, and he always keeps it well groomed. He's not very intimidating. The head is a ruddy color, with a prominent vein running right to it. Although he's clean shaven, the hairs at the base of his cock are the same white as his head. That question bothered you for years before you finally got an answer. It doesn't take a whole lot of prep to take him, but he always likes working his partners up. Anything you could deal, he'd dish back out double. Never anything you can't handle, but Gojo can be a bit of an ass.

He presses a kiss to your thigh, sucking a dark mark where you won't be able to see. The action sends an ache of need right to your core. Heat pools low in your stomach, slowly building in intensity. Gojo's arms hook around your thighs, pulling you towards him. Your legs rest just over his shoulders. The aching need in your cunt makes it hard to think straight. All you want is for him to touch you. He licks a long stripe up your slit. His own eyes are clouded with need, his cheeks flushed, lips bitten pink. His strong hands knead the soft flesh of your thighs, his breath hot against your skin. He licks a stripe from your bellybutton to your mound. You jump as he presses kitten licks to your clit, working the bundle of nerves in achingly slow motions. You taste sweet, he notes.

Your hands bury in his hair, guiding him to where you need him most. This time he relents, leaning in to lap at your clit in soft, steady motions. One of his fingers presses against your entrance. They're long, but thin, and dexterous. After a moment, he adds a second, pressing up against your g-spot. It's another moment before he starts pumping them. The sounds of your slick sex and moans fill the room. He sucks onto the sensitive bundle of nerves so desperately that it feels like it'll pop off. He swirls his tongue around it in a way that makes your toes curl and your fingers bury in the sheets. You get louder the closer you get to your own orgasm. He takes note of this. It's only a moment later when he pulls away. The lower half of his face glistens in the dim light. He makes a show of licking his fingers, groaning at the taste. Gojo leans back in for a kiss. Not much more than a quick peck. You can taste yourself on him. He finds your shocked and disappointed look endearing.

"Please,"

A smug look spreads across his face. "Please what?"

"Fuck me,"

He cages you in his arms, pinning your wrists against the bed. You might be able to wriggle out of his grasp if you really tried; not that you want to. He can't help but admire the mess between your thighs.

You take his cock into your hands, giving him a few quick pumps. He's painfully hard. Precum beads at the head, which has turned an angry shade of red. Gojo wastes no time in lining himself up. His slick cock head traces around your entrance before pushing in. He takes his time, slowly bottoming out in you. The stretch stings slightly, but isn't necessarily painful. With all the prep, he slides right in. He groans as you take him right to the hilt.

As he starts to thrust, your scramble for purchase against his chest. Your arms wrap around his neck, your fingers lacing together behind his head. His hair tickles your neck. He coos words of praise into your ear, telling you how good you take him, how good you feel around him. You clench around him, pulling him back in. Gojo sucks dark marks into your neck, only adding to the collar of hickeys. He takes pride in seeing you all marked up. Some possessive part of him loves seeing the marks he leaves behind.

Gojo's hips roll against yours in lazy thrusts. To him, there's no prettier sight than seeing your form writhe under him. His hands grab your legs propping them up on his shoulders. The new angle allows him to hit deeper than before. He picks up in pace, snapping his hips against yours in short, quick motions.

His free hand traces circles around your clit. The heat in your stomach soon grows scorching in nature. You're close. He notices the way your breathing grows shaky, how your moans get louder and more desperate sounding.

When you cum, you cum hard. Your legs clamp around his hips, pulling him back in. The way your pussy spasms around him is enough to send him over the edge. It almost catches him off guard—he didn't expect to cum so soon—he bites into his tongue hard to stop the moan that escapes him. His cum paints your walls white, filling you up more than ever before. As he pulls out, he does so slowly to not spill any of his cum.

He pulls you so your back is flush to his chest. Your skin is sticky with sweat, and maybe a bit of saliva. The sound of his steady breathing threatens to lull you to sleep. He smooths a hand over your hair, brushing it out of your eyes. Gojo looks at you with such adoration that it makes affection swell in your chest. Moments like these are rare; falling asleep next to him. Life rarely seems to allow it. It's always nice when you can take a break together.

"I missed you." You finally say.

"I know." He plants a kiss on your forehead. "I missed you too."

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