#scrambling searching for where this ask went and it was just buried in my drafts xD

[spottedenchants]

For the truth or dare asks, what about 🍄?

I pick truth! >:3

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairing

Not necessarily romantic, but when Kingsley takes the Mollymauk from Fjord however many years down the line, he also takes Marius along with him, who by that point has become reliably seaworthy

-

Thank you! :D

[jungw8ns]

GOING TO AN ESCAPE ROOM WITH ENHYPEN !

PAIRING: boyfriend!enha x gn!reader. GENRE: established relationship, fluff, crack. WARNINGS: profanity (not that much tho), mentions of death (?). WORD COUNT: 100 - 200 each member.

HEESEUNG:

the two of you were so pumped playing an escape room together for the first time that the other people in line had to calm you guys down (which was trully embarrassing to say the least 🤐🤐)

he was looking at the ranking board filled with pictures of players that had succeeded in the shortest amount of time and he just wanted nothing more than to see both your faces on there

but anyways, we all know how competitive heeseung gets 🕴️

oh boy let me tell you, this guy WAS SPEEDRUNNING IT but not the kind you were thinking

the second the timer had started he was literally SPRINTING AROUND THE ROOM LOOKING FOR CLUES YET COMPLETELY MISSING THEM 🏃‍♂️💨💨💨

while he was busy running around, you were picking up the little details in the room and in no time managed to open a few locks

"y/n look i found– oh 😐😑😐"

HE WAS SULKING PLSSS 😭😭😭

when you noticed him standing from afar staring at you with his arms crossed, you called him to solve this one puzzle you already did

*gasps* "oh no! babe i don't understand how to do this, please help me 😔😔🤥🙏🙏"

he had to bite his lower lip to stop himself from letting out that cocky grin but it got out eventually

"oh it's so easy sweetheart, just put this here and then voila! 😉"

when the two of you escaped you suprisingly got to take a polaroid with him home after ranking 2nd in the records

heeseung was the one who held onto it tho, placing it underneath his clear phonecase for safekeeping <3

JAY:

GOD THIS DUDE

THE ESCAPE ROOM WASN'T EVEN THAT SCARY AND YET EVERYTIME YOU GUYS OPEN A LOCK OR A DOOR HIS FIGHT OR FLIGHT INSTINCTS COME UP 😭😭👊👊

"y/n stay behind me >:(("

"um, babe, you do realize that's just a door right?"

"WE'LL BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY?? THE STAFF COULD'VE PROGRAMMED IT TO GROW LEGS?? 😵🧐🧐"

you knew you shouldn't have played horror games with him a few nights ago cause he looked like he was about to lose his mind 😔

you had to shove his ass aside and move on to the next mission cause the both of you knew that he was stalling 🏌️‍♀️

jay was being extra clingy the whole time you were playing, he'd either link arms with you or hold hands (he's literally so adorable) 💞💞

BUT THEN YOU THOUGHT OF DOING A PRANK ON HIM

while you were roaming around the room trying to solve a puzzle, you saw this horse mask on a nearby table

and so you made sure jay was distracted and put on the mask

you could've NOT worn the dusty old thing but where was the fun in that?

"jay can you come here for a sec?"

you hid behind the wall beside the door frame waiting for him to come into your sight and attacked him

now, how about we guess what happens next?

a. he faints

b. he runs away

or c. he slaps you in the face and forces you to buy him food for the rest of the night

if you guessed c then YAY! YOU'RE CORRECT 🥳🎉🎉🎊

THIS HOE SLAPS YOU AS HE SHOULD

"$##/@+(+'£%(:?!!)&£**/*%@"

when he finally takes off the mask like those scenes in scooby doo he's never felt so betrayed in his life

"i- I TRUSTED YOU 😭😭😭 YOU BETTER BUY ME FOOD LATER, I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS, THE BETRAYAL???? LITERALLY UNPROVOKED?????"

he wouldn't stop side eyeing you until you guys finally pulled up on the mcdonalds drive thru

"hi, can i get two um– bts meals please? 😒😒 and two oreo mc flurries 🙄🙄 and also large fries 😐😐"

sane (1/3)

would be trailing behind you like a little puppy (i love him so much 😭😭😭)

he either has his arm linked with yours or held hands every five minutes

JAKE:

really focused on the puzzles he's doing but the second he hears you call out his name for help he's there beside you with the sweetest smile

but anyways, mans was POPPING OFF the entire time you were playing

he was solving problem after problem in no time (he wanted to impress you is why he activated his inner flash ⚡⚡) but he did let you play tho, the last thing he wanted to do was make you pissed at him for hogging all the games

def buried jake with compliments and forehead kisses right after ❤️__❤️

and so the two of you got out in like an hour and a few which you were very proud of

"you were so cool today babe, good job !!"

"aww thank you angel 😊😊"

sane (2/3)

SUNGHOON:

would be linking pinkies with you the whole time, only letting go whenever the both of you had to solve something that needed two or more people

there was this one game tho where he had to arm wrestle this literal hand lever to open the door to the last room (yea...don’t ask why, the staffs were pretty weird 😬😬) 

it made him enjoy the experience a bit more as it was only the two of you playing instead of getting accompanied by strangers

HGAWAHSGDHSGHDA PLSS THIS GUY

“oh this’ll be easy, y/n step aside, i’ll handle this 😏😏😏”

idk if you were supposed to think about how handsome he looked with his serious expression on and his veiny hands coming into frame or be worried for him because the lever was REAL HARD to pull that his veins looked like they were going to pop any second soon, you stepped in and helped him tho cause you were a good s/o <3

from a spectators point of view, the two of you looked like y’all were about shit your pants but the two of you eventually succeeded on beating it, immediately dragging him to the next room which had a sofa in it, laying down to catch your breaths

cliché moment ahead ⚠️⚠️

the two of you shared a few laughs before standing up on the empty space, held hands and started to jump in circles to celebrate your success 💃💃

yupp, y’all were never going back to that hellhole again

very stubborn at first, he wanted nothing to do with the game but then you held him at gunpoint by saying:

SUNOO:

"please just this once or else i'll revoke your mint choco ice cream rights 🔫🔫🔫"

"BUT IT'S SCARY IN THERE BABE :((("

"it won't be that scary sunshine, besides, i'll be ready to 🤜💥 yk?? trust me babe i would never let anyone hurt you <33"

kinda pissed since you blackmailed him into the place and also bc he wanted to play bumper cars and dance mania but he yea he caved in pretty quick 😋😋

(y/n let him play his games in peace tf >:(((( )

once you guys got in tho he realized how normal it was and that it was not terrifying at all

THE EPITOME OF CLINGY OMFG

he wouldn't stop back hugging you and you couldn't bring yourself to push him away to play the games so you just let him walk behind you with his arms on your shoulders 😩😩

(y'all were walking kinda funny but don't tell sunoo that 🤫🤫🤫)

yea the two of you ended up escaping with a whopping 2 hours and a few minutes

but it was the effort that counts so A+++++ for the both if you 😜👍👍👍

sane (3/3)

JUNGWON:

was the one who suggested going, he even searched on naver about really good escape room places to visit and was overall really looking forward it

he liked going to places and having fun with you so it wasn't a shock how his eyes were literally crescents and his dimples were so evident

yea he literally rushed the both of you to the place that you were the first in line 😵

while waiting for the staff to finish setting up he was playing with your connected hands like 🖐️✊🖐️✊ (so precious 💞💞)

"y/n why are you taking so long 😭😭 what if they close and we end up not solving a single lock, hurry up por favorrr 😩🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏"

when they finally lead you to the room he was kind of surprised that they had separated the two of you into different spaces (like the one with txt where they had the answers to the other member's puzzles yk???)

he was locked inside a telephone stand while you were handcuffed in the main room

dw the two of you reunited after a few minutes cause jungwon was rushing his lock to get to you 🤭

you both were progressing at an average pace and it made you guys a lot more closer (not that you guys weren't before but you get what i mean)

after you guys escaped the two of you went to eat curry and talked about the whole experience 😋✌️✌️✌️

this boy literally dragged you in the escape room with him

NIKI:

HE DIDN'T EVEN GIVE YOU TIME TO REFUSE HE JUST 😐👉🚪

"ok masterchefs, in order to test your abilities we must go through series of puzzles and make it out alive, understood?"

he tried ignoring how confused you were and went on to try and get you guys to escape

HE'S LAUGHING AT YOU FOR WHATEVER REASON AND OBV YOU LAUGH ASWELL CAUSE WHO WOULDN'T??? his laugh is so contagious pls 🤖🤖 he was so close to d wording cause he couldn't breathe from laughing too much

yea.. you guys spent so much time laughing at each other for being so dumb at this that you ended up playing 'till closing time

spoiler alert: he fails on doing anything cause the second you made eye contact with him this child collapses 😍🤩

GIRL SO EMBARRASSING 🤡🤡

THE STAFF KICKED THE BOTH OF YOU OUT AND NOW YOU GUYS WERE BANNED FROM THE PLACE ☠️☠️

"haunted house next weekend???"

"BET"

NOTE – god they were WAY funnier in my head but yeah.... i love them so much AND OMFG HAVE YOU GUYS SEEN HEESEUNG’S SELCAS LAST NIGHT???!?@??#?@?!?@ HE’S NOT REAL WTF ⁉️❓❓⁉️

also, idk why BUT EVERY TIME I SAVE A DRAFT the paragraphs get scrambled?? £!?) 6=6) 🤣😂💔💔🤣🤣😂💔 it's so annoying but anyways, ilysm pls stay safe and have a great day <33

[yukidragon]

Our Life Snippet - Anchor

It’s time for another slice of the first draft of my fan novelization for Our Life: Beginnings and Always! For once, this is a direct continuation of a piece I’ve served up before. Last week we got the hurt portion of hurt/comfort in the moment Family with the snippet I called Adrift. Now it’s time for the comfort half with Cove and Jamie.

As always, thank you for enjoying my writing. Special thanks in particular for the game’s lovely creators @gb-patch for being so sweet and encouraging. You’re all wonderful and you bring me such happiness!

...

It was impossible for Jamie to tell how long she remained staring off into the far horizon, fighting to keep her head above water in the chaotic storm of thoughts she drowned in. She sat with her knees tucked against her chest, her cheek resting across her arms folded on top of them. The wind delicately blew her blue hair to the side, just strong enough to tease her bangs and end of her long braid.

A voice cut through the static screeching inside of her head. Someone was shouting, getting closer. Not even the presence of another person was enough to make Jamie move until she noticed that they were calling her name.

Upon that realization, she recognized the voice as well. She could never, ever mistake his voice for anyone else’s.

Jamie raised her head and turned quickly towards the shouts, her eyes wide. She quickly spotted a silhouette in the darkness where the sand gave way to grass. Even in the dim light, she instantly identified the figure.

Cove.

There was a moment where Cove stood breathless, his eyes fixed on Jamie sitting curled up where the sand met the waves, with the moonlight casting a shadow across her face when she turned towards him. The moment lasted only long enough for him to be sure it was her before he ran to her side.

Confusion and worry drew Jamie to her feet, clearer than anything else in her chaotic mind, and she fully turned to face Cove as he approached. “Cove,” she said, his name shaped with too many emotions to process. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

The question took Cove aback. “No!” He cringed a little at the intensity of his response and tried to calm his racing heart. “Not to me anyway. I wanted to know what happened to you.”

Jamie stared at Cove in confusion, her face blank. Her reaction only made him even more concerned, his grimace creasing into a deep frown.

“Mom told me you stopped by earlier,” he explained, his voice still a little frantic and breathless from his panicked search. “I went to your house to say hi, but your parents said you were gone, that you needed to get away.”

Jamie said nothing. She heard him clearly, yet failed to understand what about that alarmed him so much. She was fine.

It was her family who weren’t okay.

Cove only felt his worries grow the longer Jamie failed to respond or even show any emotion. Normally, she was so expressive that it was easy for him to tell how she was feeling, but now her face was a tense, blank mask that offered him nothing.

Nothing about all this was normal, and it was starting to get to Cove.

“I mean…,” he continued, pressing on despite the oppressive stillness of his best friend. “I had to think something was going on after something like that, so I came to find you.” His aquamarine eyes looked into hers - those normally captivating night blue eyes were so uncharacteristically dim, devoid of their usual sparkle and joy whenever they were together.

The look in Jamie’s eyes terrified Cove.

The silence stretched on, a heavy weight oppressing both of them. Finally, Jamie took a breath and wet her lips, tasting the salt in the air as she struggled to answer Cove’s concern, to reassure him and explain what had happened without making things worse for him.

“I…”

Even forcing out one word alone was a struggle for Jamie, but Cove was patient, willing to wait for her to speak. Her gaze dropped to the sand, unable to bear the worry in his eyes anymore as she fought for words. It was too loud inside her head, the static scraping away words she wanted to say with intrusive ones she never wanted to admit to anyone. There had been so much she had wanted to tell him earlier, but now there was too much.

Finally, Jamie managed to try again. “There’s a lot…” Her voice petered off, the words dissolving from her mind before more than a handful could leave her tight throat. She skewed her eyes shut. “Elizabeth… my parents…!”

She choked on the words, a hand moving up to cover her mouth as she tasted bile. The action urged Cove to take a step closer to her.

“Is everything okay?” Cove asked reflexively, even though the answer was obvious, as he placed a hand on Jamie’s shoulder.

The touch was warm, solid. It was a stark contrast to how disconnected Jamie felt from the rest of the world. She closed her eyes and focused on Cove’s hand, his closeness, his concern.

Cove cared.

Cove always cared about her, what she thought, and what she felt. He never judged her, never pushed her. Ever since they met, he was always there, so kind and mindful of her. He was her anchor grounding her when the waters turned turbulent and threatened to wash her away.

Jamie placed her hand on top of Cove’s, drawing strength from him as she always did.

“Thank you,” she eventually managed to say, her shaky voice barely more than a whisper as she lowered her head. “Thank you for coming…” She lifted her gaze, but could only reach as far as his worried frown; she couldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Cove’s brow furrowed even more as he only grew increasingly concerned, not as much by the words themselves but by the way Jamie said them. She sounded so… broken.

Despite his mounting fears, he held himself back from voicing his worries further, wanting to give her the chance to continue on her own.

Jamie closed her eyes and took another breath, giving the hand on her shoulder a small squeeze. It was hard for her to speak, to know where to begin, but the fact that Cove was with her now made things a little easier somehow. With his help, she would figure out what to do about Elizabeth, her moms, and…

And just like that the feelings she had been holding back surged forth like a tsunami and overtook her.

“My parents are dead!”

Cove froze at the weakly delivered outburst as it sent a shock through him. He couldn’t move, except for his mouth which fell open, but he was unable to do anything further as he stared at Jamie.

That wasn’t what Jamie had been intending to say, not at all.

For a moment, Jamie stuttered, scrambling to recover mentally, knowing she had to clear up the confusion she had just caused. “M-my biological ones… from before my moms… before they adopted me.” The explanation started as a trickle that only grew stronger, more emotional with each word, like water pouring from a crack in a dam that was only growing wider as more spilled free. “They died when I was a baby. Moms didn’t say how. Maybe they don’t know. But there wasn’t any other family I could live with. So that… that’s why I… why I g-got a-ado-adopte-”

Cove had heard more than enough. He closed the distance between them, pulling Jamie into a tight embrace.

“I’m sorry, Jamie,” he murmured, his warm breath ghosting across her shoulder. The comforting words delivered with such gentleness pierced right through her.

The warmth was familiar and comforting. It felt so right to Jamie, yet she stood frozen as Cove enveloped her securely in his arms. They were so close that his voice rumbled through her pleasantly when he spoke, creating small tremors that ran through her. In another situation this would be heaven. But this wasn’t right. She wasn’t the one who needed to be comforted right now. It was her sister and moms who needed it far more than she did.

“You… you don’t ha-have to do this,” she said, barely managing to force the words out, her voice cracking at the edges.

Cove rested his head against Jamie’s, his cheek brushing against hers. He refused to let her go. “Yes I do.”

He sounded so sure, yet for some reason that fact made Jamie begin to shake. Finally she could move, her trembling hands reaching up - to draw him closer or push him away was unclear - but her fingers hooked into his shirt at his sides near his back, the hold on the fabric so tight her already pale knuckles turned white.

“I… I-I’m o-oka…”

The lie was too big for Jamie to finish forcing it from her throat. She choked on it, her voice catching and quaking until it turned into a wail of anguish that racked her body. All of her denials and barriers broke then, and she crushed her body into Cove’s until there wasn’t even room for air between them. The tears she didn’t know that she had been fighting all this time gushed forth without restraint, spilling onto her best friend’s skin as she buried her face into the crook of his neck.

Cove held Jamie even tighter, as close as he could without hurting her, his eyes growing watery as well. Although they were of equal height, she felt so small in his arms just then. Her body shook almost violently against him from the force of her sobs, the sounds rending his heart in two.

Cove said nothing while Jamie cried, merely listening to the wails she made that almost formed words at times. It was painful to hear just how much she was hurting, but he didn’t falter. He would do nothing else but hold her until she was done bleeding out all of the poison tainting her heart.

It took time for the night to grow still again, save for the constant rhythm of the waves and the breathing of the two teens as they held each other on the shore. Eventually, however, the flood of tears slowed to a trickle, and then finally stopped when Jamie had no more left to shed. Her energy bled away along with much of the tension in her body, leaving her standing more by virtue of Cove holding her up than the strength of her own legs, her once firm grip limp, but still hanging on desperately.

When Cove noticed, he took great care to guide Jamie back down onto the sand. The position they sat in was close, with Jamie practically in Cove’s lap. Under normal circumstances, such intimate closeness would have left him a blushing mess fighting the urge to bolt like a frightened deer, but he didn’t even think about it now. The only thing he focused on was keeping her close to him.

Cove sat for a little while longer with Jamie cradled in his arms, until he was sure that she might be ready to talk. He didn’t release his grip on her, but shifted just a little, trying to catch a glimpse of her face to better see whatever expression she was wearing now without widening the distance between them.

Jamie looked exhausted, worn, but not as worryingly tense as before.

When Cove spoke again, it was delicate and deliberate. “Can you explain everything to me?”

For a moment, Jamie just breathed deep, the sound rough and hitching occasionally. Finally, she managed the strength to lift her head and face Cove. Her red-rimmed dark blue eyes met his, but only for a second before she had to look away. She nodded slowly before taking in a heavy breath and letting it out slow and shaky.

The actual event hadn’t actually been that long, but the telling took Jamie a while in stops and starts. Cove listened attentively, only nodding where appropriate or taking in a sharp inhale when words almost escaped him. He only spoke again when he was sure she was finished speaking, at least for now.

“Jamie,” Cove said, his voice trembling with heartache for his closest friend. He faltered, wanting so badly to say whatever it took to somehow make her feel better, but words alone felt inadequate. “I’m really sorry about what happened to your parents. So, so sorry…”

Jamie being adopted was something Cove learned early on after meeting her, but its importance never truly sank in for him. He never felt comfortable about prying into it, relating the loss of her original parents to losing his mom for a while due to the divorce, and the distance that had grown between them since.

Although things had gotten better for him, it would never get better between Jamie and her birth parents.

Cove tried to find the words to say more, but nothing came. He could only take in deep, shaky breaths as he struggled for something to tell her that might help heal her broken heart. It was frustrating. He hated feeling so helpless, especially when his best friend needed him.

Jamie barely acknowledged Cove beyond a slight nod of her head as she looked off at some point in the distance, not really seeing anything. She found more words to say before he could. “I had no idea it was so important to Elizabeth,” she said, her voice rough from all her crying. “She was so upset and angry even before our moms told her about her biological parents… and after they did she just…” She had to pause for a moment to take in a shaky breath before letting out slowly. “I mean… I thought about mine too, sometimes, but it’s not because I wanted to know who they were.”

Jamie made a vague motion with her hand before limply dropping it back onto Cove’s arm. “I sorta just figured either they wanted me or they didn’t, and if they didn’t, they weren’t worth thinking about. If they did…”

Closing her eyes, Jamie paused to take a deep shuddering breath before shaking her head. “I didn’t want to know if they did,” she confessed in a whisper, guilt dripping from every word. “I didn’t want to ask, but when Elizabeth did… when my moms asked me… how could I not?” Her eyes went to Cove, her expression almost desperate and only relaxing a little when she saw him nod in understanding.

“But I guess… they did want me,” Jamie said haltingly, the words coming out weak and fragile as she closed her eyes. “There were people who… l-loved me. And I can’t love them back. Ever. I can never love them like they probably loved me because they died, and I can’t remember anything about them. They’re strangers. They’ll always be strangers to me, even if they did have me. I’ll never get to know them and love them like my moms or Elizabeth or Lee and… and… and I just wish they didn’t and that they just threw me away and abandoned me because they didn’t want me like I always told myself they did so I wouldn’t feel guilty about not caring about them and being happy without them! Isn’t that awful?!”

It was hard for Cove to keep silent. He bit into the inside of his cheek to fight the urge to speak before Jamie was done unburdening herself. He only moved to gently pry her fingers from her braid as she started yanking on it at some point during her rant. It was only when she stopped, panting as though she had just been running, her dark blue eyes wild and desperate and looking right through him, that he spoke again.

“Jamie,” Cove said, drawing her attention back to him and away from that dark pit inside herself. His voice cracked as he struggled to keep himself together; he needed to be strong, for Jamie’s sake. “You’re not doing anything wrong. You know that, right?”

The emotions playing across Jamie’s face were too complex for Cove to understand, but he suspected that they were also too much for her to truly understand them either.

Cove took great care in choosing his words, which made them come out slower than usual, almost stilted. “I think you can be as sad as you want, for as long as you need. Or you can feel about it whenever you want, too. It’s okay for you to be happy. You deserve to be happy.”

It was a struggle for him, as his words felt woefully inadequate in the face of such dark thoughts as the ones Jamie laid bare before him. He was completely out of his depth here. Even comparing her situation with her birth parents to his own parents didn’t help him really relate; it just made him shudder at the idea of how he would react if one or both of them died.

Adding on the complicated feelings of never knowing them or loving them like he did was just…

Cove had to take a moment to breathe, exhaling deeply as he ran a hand through his hair and let his gaze drift to the ocean. The sight of it was soothing, which he desperately needed right now.

With another sigh, Cove shifted his gaze back to Jamie, meeting her intense stare with a look of sympathy and reassurance. He at least took solace in the fact that she was looking at him now and not lost inside her own head again. Even if he couldn’t really relate to what she was going through, that didn’t stop him from empathizing with the obvious guilt she held towards her own complicated feelings, or understanding how easy it was for dark thoughts to spiral out of control.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is…,” Cove continued at last. “Whatever you feel about it is how you feel about it, and that’s okay. You don’t have to force yourself to be different.” He managed a faint smile, as he recalled what Jamie told him at the beginning of summer when he confided in her about his complicated feelings about his mother coming to stay. “There’s nothing wrong with how you’re feeling about all this. It doesn’t make you a bad person. No one would ever think badly about you for feeling this way about something like this.”

He sounded so sure, Jamie couldn’t help but believe him. It was strange how Cove had the power to do that, to be able to hold such pure faith in her that there was no room left for doubt. It was effortless for him to slip past her barriers, denials, and twisted up confusing feelings to reach her heart directly, always with a touch so delicate it wouldn’t disturb foam on the water.

Bit by bit, Jamie felt the knot in her chest loosen, and she found herself relaxing against Cove as she let his heartfelt words settle in. Instead of the static of broken thoughts, she listened to the familiar rhythm of waves meeting the shore, and the slow, steady breaths of her best friend by her ear. Her eyes drifted closed and took a moment to simply breathe.

Finally, Jamie started to see things in a new light.

When Jamie opened her eyes again, she was quickly lost in Cove’s aquamarine eyes that somehow seemed to glow in the moonlight as they focused only on her. The way the moon made his eyes shine so bright despite the darkness of night was one of the first things she noticed about him on the night they met. Although those enchanting eyes held sadness like they did that night, they were also overflowing with affection for her.

Cove always saw her so clearly, all of her, both the good and the bad. He could see her like no one else.

Although Jamie thought she had cried out all her tears before, a couple more beaded up in her eyes before slowly trickling down her face. Despite their presence, she managed a weak but genuine smile. Somehow, Cove always found a way to give her exactly what she needed the most. “Thank you, Cove.”

The tension wrapped around Cove eased a little as well, as he watched the light slowly return to Jamie’s eyes, and he returned her delicate smile with a comforting one of his own.

“You know,” he continued carefully, “Elizabeth and I haven't ever been super close, but… I don’t think she’d want her family to break up, or drift apart.” He paused for a moment to offer a weak attempt at a wry smile. “Even if she complains about it sometimes.”

Jamie let out a breath that was almost a laugh, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards a little higher, and Cove took that as a victory.

His expression softened as he continued. “And your moms definitely don’t. It doesn’t matter if you’re not blood related, you’re definitely family.” He reached up to gently brush away the stray tears from her cheeks with the pad of his thumb. “I can see that… and I hope you can too.”

Jamie leaned into the touch, her eyelids dipping, but she didn’t want to stop looking into Cove’s ocean blue eyes. They were so bright and clear, able to see her with such sincerity. She could feel his reassurance in the way he looked at her, the certainty he held that despite everything she was going through, she and her family were going to be okay.

As his tender words and caring heart wrapped around her like a warm blanket, Jamie felt herself growing a little more certain as well. Cove was right - she didn’t have to apologize for how she felt, or even make excuses for it.

She didn’t have to deny how she felt either, not even to herself.

As the pain slowly receded like the tide, Jamie felt her almost overwhelming affection for Cove flow in to take its place. Mere words couldn’t express how grateful she was that he was here to support her, that despite seeing what she believed was such an ugly part of her, he accepted it and helped her see that it wasn’t as terrible as she convinced herself it was.

More than anything else in this world, Jamie knew that she could count on Cove to be there when she needed him.

Jamie no longer felt the need to hold herself back from fully accepting the comfort Cove offered her. She snuggled in closer, drawing her arms around his torso as she nuzzled her cheek against his. Being close to him, touching him, hugging him - it was always a soothing balm no matter how easily he could send her heart fluttering out of control. There was nothing more right in this world than being in his arms.

Although Cove started to become aware of their intimate position, it was a mercifully distant concern when compared to everything else that merely quickened his pulse. Not even his nervous crush on her could compare to the relief he felt knowing that his best friend was finally starting to feel better. He returned her affectionate gesture, brushing his cheek against hers, feeling her soft warmth and breathing in the faint smell of ocean and flowers that was distinctly Jamie. Despite how anxious he felt at times being so close to her, he couldn’t help but feel content holding her like this.

The two remained like that a while longer, neither inclined to separate now that the silence between them had softened into something comforting and familiar. For a while they simply sat together on the sand, idly watching the ocean as it reflected countless stars and the moon above.

[littlemisspascal]

The Last Mandalorian

Chapter One: The Warrior in Carbonite Part 3

Fandom: The Mandalorian / Pedro Pascal

Eventual Pairing: Din x Togruta!Female!Reader

Word Count: 4,320

Rating: G

Summary: A series that is a mixture of Mandalorian, Star Wars, ATLA, and my own imagination. The Imps have seized control of the majority of the galaxy, including your homeworld Shili. You and your sister Ahsoka have developed a daily routine despite the stormtroopers keeping your village imprisoned. One morning you make a startling discovery that will change the course of your lives forever.

Warnings: I don’t know much about starship mechanics so probably nothing in this is accurate but it’s fanfiction people so cut me some slack please, reader gets a nickname 🥳, plot plot plot, discussion of loss of loved ones, worldbuilding, dialogue heavy, this is a slow burn but it’s also ridiculously self-indulgent so I’m including as many cute getting-to-know-you scenes as I can, reader is 17 and Din is 19 so I’m going to warn this as underage even though nothing sexual or even vaguely romantic happens in this chapter.

Author Note: Thank you anyone and everyone who has read even a sentence of this story! Special thanks and love to @dindja for creating this stunning, fantastic, amazing piece of fanart for me 💖💖💖 I still can’t believe how perfect it is. I mean, I’m such a sucker for pinky promises it’s not even funny and this is just beautiful 😍😍😍

Part 2

Cross-posted on AO3

For as grand and wide-reaching as the Galactic Empire has become in its ten years of existence, it had relatively small beginnings. A group of radical Force-wielders banded together under the leadership of an old, beady-eyed man named Sheev Palpatine who believed it was his divine destiny to seize control of the entire galaxy, rewriting the ancient laws to match his own beliefs. His cult, the Sith Order, gained attention by attacking Jedi temples, capital cities, places with large populations until every corner of the galaxy had heard of them. Most regarded them with fear, but over time they began garnering a startling amount of followers who were discontent with the status quo and willingly drafted themselves as soldiers in Palpatine’s fight for control.

At first everyone in your village thought Palpatine and his cult of followers weren’t worth worrying about—after all, Shili was a peaceful planet that never drew much attention to itself. But within the first year of its inception, the Sith Order captured Ryloth and the similar peaceful characteristics between the Twi’lek planet and Shili were too glaring to overlook. A seed of anxiety took root in every Togruta’s mind after that, and continued to grow with every planet seized as the years progressed.

The Decimation of Alderaan didn’t start as a tragedy, believe it or not. The Mandalorians, Jedi, and Alderaanians combined their numbers in an all-out fight against the Sith Order. It was the largest battle ever fought in the history of the galaxy, thousands of souls willing to die to defeat Palpatine’s followers. For the first three days of warfare, the fight seemed to be in favor of the allies with many noteworthy Sith members reportedly killed in the fray, such as Palpatine’s second-in-command Dooku and lethal Zabrak assassin Maul. You remember there was a sense of hope felt within your village as everyone listened to the news reports blaring across the Holonet. A belief that things were finally, finally going to return to normal after so much chaos.

But on the fourth day, the Sith Order brought their own ally onto the battlefield.

At the time there wasn’t a name for the droids that slaughtered every opponent they faced. They were described as indestructible, unharmed by blasters and the intense heat of Mandalorian flamethrowers. Not even lightsabers could damage them. The allies didn’t stand a chance, brutally murdered one by one, their dying screams echoing across the Holonet, forever haunting listeners far and wide.

The Dark Troopers were unleashed upon Mandalore afterwards and out of the ashes rose the Galactic Empire, except, in a twist nobody—not even the Sith Order—saw coming: Palpatine died before taking on the title of emperor, passing away in his sleep. A mediocre ending for the monster who permanently altered the foundations of the universe. One of his loyal followers from the cult’s early beginnings took control in his place, a vile man with a penchant for spilling blood and a deceptively bland name: Gideon.

Only seven years-old then, you didn’t understand the unbalance in the Force your aunt kept referencing. You didn’t understand the meaning of the word genocide either. But you did understand the galaxy would never be the same ever again, and the lesson was only further established as truth when the Imperials seized your village. 

There is no normalcy to return to anymore.

And as long as Emperor Gideon remains in control, there is no future to hope for either.

__

Silence reigns in the aftermath of Maar’s explanation as the long list of tragedies hangs heavy over the four occupants. There is tension in the air as you await the Mandalorian’s response to the extinction of his people, whether that be an outburst of anger or tears, and each passing minute only intensifies the nervous energy thrumming through your veins. Your leg starts to bounce restlessly, a bad habit you have had since childhood.

The Mandalorian stands eerily motionless. Your eyes keep flicking from your lap to his visor though you know it is rude to stare. His helmet hides his expression, but you don’t need to see it to know he is floundering right now, mind scrambling to piece together all the details thrown at him. From personal experience, you know the loss of a loved one hits like a tidal wave, hitting you over and over again until you must decide if you are going to stand up or surrender to drowning. Grieving the loss of your parents is the hardest experience of your lifetime to date.

But this...this is vastly different. The Mandalorian didn’t just lose his loved ones. He has lost his friends, neighbors, comrades, acquaintances, everyone all at once. This loss isn’t a tidal wave. It is a kriffing avalanche, burying him ten feet under in total darkness, and there is no one he can count on to save him. 

Finally, after the longest five minutes of your life, he shifts, resting his hands upon his belt with an unexpected air of seriousness. “I need to go.”

You frown, head tilting. That is his reaction?

“Go?” Ahsoka echoes, sounding as incredulous as you feel. “Go where?”

“To look for survivors,” he answers, blunt and harsh, the words forced through clenched teeth. 

Ahsoka is struck silent, and you feel your heart break on his behalf. Your mother’s stories about the Mandalorians had always included, one way or another, their lifelong bonds with each other. You had felt those ties when you had connected with the Mandalorian, believed for a moment as strongly as he did that his fellow warriors would come search for him, that his absence would be noticed and missed amongst them. And here he is now, still desperately clutching to them, unable—or, perhaps unwilling is more apt—to believe a stranger telling him those bonds have been cruelly severed. 

“What you need is to rest,” Maar says, gentle yet firm, letting her authority as the eldest in the room seep into her tone.

He shakes his head, not backing down. “I’ve been asleep for ten years. I don’t need any more rest.”

“Your ship, it, uh,” your shoulders hike up defensively when his visor snaps in your direction, pinning you with its blank stare. Clearing your throat, you continue with a slight grimace, “It’s going to need some repairs before it can take off. I can help you fix it.”

Ahsoka looks over at you in surprise, and then in worry. You don’t blame her, especially since the offer had slipped out without you consciously meaning it to. Once again, the Force is calling the shots and you are just along for the ride, a passenger in your own body.

He considers you for a long moment, then asks, “What do you know about the mechanics of a gunship?” 

If anyone else had asked you that same exact question, you would have bristled at their condescension and retracted your offer in the next breath. But with the Mandalorian, there isn’t even the slightest hint of patronizing courtesy. It is a serious question prompted from genuine curiosity.

You sit up straighter, smiling at him now. “Enough to confidently say I’m your best shot at getting off the ground.”

__

“What’s your plan, exactly?” Ahsoka asks you, braced against the wall with one eye on you and one on the Mandalorian across the garage, patiently waiting for you to finish assembling your tool kit. 

“Huh?” You reply distractedly, trying to decide if you should bring your carbon chisel or not. 

“You don’t have one, do you?”

Not. There are bigger concerns than a bit of carbon scoring. You move to grab your favorite screwdriver with a tapered socket, only for Ahsoka to snatch it away, holding the tool hostage.

“Hey!”

“Have you thought about what you’re doing?” Ahsoka asks slowly, staring you directly in the eyes. “Once you fix his ship, he’s gone. And he’s taking our best chance at escaping Shili with him.”

A quick glance over your shoulder shows the Mandalorian studying the scattered BB unit parts on your workbench. You are missing a few vital components needed in order to bring the little droid back to life after a stormtrooper shot a plasma bolt through it for accidentally bumping into his leg, and haven’t had any luck convincing the village traders to track them down for you when they went to the capital. 

“We can’t keep him here against his will,” you manage at last, turning back to your sister. “Otherwise we’re no better than the Imps.”

When Ahsoka doesn’t say anything, you shrug a shoulder, adding, “Besides, I think I’m supposed to fix it for him. The Force seems pretty insistent about it.”

She makes a face at that. “I liked you better when you ignored your Force instincts. You didn’t make me worry as much.”

A laugh escapes you, embarrassingly loud in the otherwise quiet space, and your cheeks immediately start burning. Ahsoka’s lip twitches like she wants to smile, but instead she schools her features into a blank expression when the Mandalorian’s head turns at the sound. Only once he diverts his attention elsewhere again does her stare lose some of its intensity, looking less like she wants to dissect him beneath a microscope. You can practically see her protective-older-sister-instincts buzzing, reacting to the warrior’s presence. 

As much as he is a chance at providing an escape, he is also first and foremost a complete and total stranger. Even worse, he is a complete and total stranger who knows how to handle weapons. 

“I’ll be fine, I promise.” You squeeze her arm reassuringly. “Shouldn’t take longer than a couple of hours. You’ll be so busy smoothing the Elders’ ruffled feathers you won’t even notice I’m gone.”

Ahsoka finally relinquishes the tool, exhaling a quiet sigh. “You shouldn’t make promises you don’t know for certain you can keep.”

__

Walking side by side with the Mandalorian in silence isn’t awkward, per se, but it definitely isn’t comfortable either. He is close enough your arm keeps accidentally grazing against his, the cold brush of metal against your skin startling you each time. You would have considered his nearness strange if you hadn’t heard Ahsoka threaten to castrate him if you wound up hurt before she sent him flying at the juni tree branch outside your window with an unnecessarily strong push of Force. 

To his credit, the warrior handled her rough treatment with the same ease he has handled everything else thrown at him. You are beginning to think Mandalorians don’t just wear beskar—they are made of it too. Other than the few glimpses of frustration earlier in Maar’s office, he keeps his cards close to his chest, impossible to read. 

He watches everything though, reacting to the slightest of movements and sounds. Constantly alert. You are certain he is watching you right now, despite the fact his helmet is facing forward, your nerves prickling in response to the sensation of eyes upon you.

To your surprise, he is the one to break the silence first. “You sneak out often.”

It is a statement, not a question. 

You suppose the dots are easy enough to connect to reach that conclusion. Still, the certainty in his voice has your heart skipping a nervous beat. He hasn’t even known you a day and yet he is privy to secrets no one outside your community is aware of. “Yeah,” you nod your head after a brief lapse of silence, “Ahsoka can’t train in the village. Not with the stormtroopers around.”

“Has your village tried to run them out? Fight back?”

It is only because you know he is just trying to understand your village’s predicament with the little bits of information he has that you don’t snap at him for being so insensitive. He has no idea what these past five years have been like for you all. No idea the amount of losses and sacrifices the community has suffered. 

Your grip on your tool kit tightens. “I was twelve when they came. The community is mostly traders and hunters, not trained fighters. The few weapons we had were nothing compared to their blaster rifles, but some of the adults tried to defend the village, including our parents. They...” You swallow, or try to, at least, your throat suddenly dry as sand. “Our aunt looked after us until last year we woke up one morning to find a note she’d left to join the rebellion. We haven’t had any contact with her since.”

The Mandalorian’s gloved hand brushes against your knuckles. This time you think it might have been on purpose.

“I lost my parents as a child, too. There was a riot and they died protecting me,” he offers his own private details with the same reluctance as one volunteering to have their teeth pulled out. “The Mandalorians took me in, raised me as one of their own.”

You say nothing about the way his breath slightly hitches when he says Mandalorians, appreciating his openness as it puts you both on somewhat equal footing with each other. 

“I owe it to them to look for survivors,” he tells you, and your montrals detect the quietest hint of a plea in his voice. 

“I understand,” you answer, keeping your tone light to preserve the fragility of this moment. This kind of situation doesn’t happen often—two strangers on the same wavelength, exposing their vulnerable underbellies, desperate to be heard and yet skittish at the same time—and it is oddly therapeutic. 

A decision is made right then and there in the span of a heartbeat. And even more significantly, it is 100% your own choice without any intervention or manipulation from the Force. 

You stop walking, causing the Mandalorian to halt as well. He scans the area for a threat, then visibly jerks when he turns back to find you have your hand held out towards him, pinky raised high, reacting as if you are pointing a weapon at him.

“I don’t understand,” he says, blunt and almost suspicious sounding. Are you just imagining it or can you actually hear him frowning? “What are you doing?”

“Haven’t you ever made a pinky promise with someone before?”

“...A what?”

You snort, ducking your head to hide your smile, and then reach for his hand. Surprisingly, he doesn’t protest your touch.

“A pinky promise,” you repeat as you make his hand form a fist, curling his fingers towards his palm, and then adjust his pinky so you can wrap yours around it. He watches the whole process wordlessly. “It’s a sacred vow shared between two people. The Elders say once it’s sworn, the promise can never be broken.”

He cocks his head, skeptical. “Never?”

“Never,” you reaffirm with a nod. Licking your lips, you look at his visor, right where you instinctively know his eyes are staring back. “I promise I’m going to help you. No matter the odds.”

And something leaks into your voice then, something resolute and binding and otherworldly. A tremor shoots down your spine, too quick for you to make sense of it.

Your sister’s words echo in the back of your mind, ‘You shouldn’t make promises you don’t know for certain you can keep.’ 

You try to pull away, self-doubt gnawing a hole in your stomach, only for the Mandalorian to wrap his pinky tighter around yours, holding you still. A gasp escapes your lips, muffled by the bleeding sincerity in his voice as he swears:

“I promise I will be there when you need me. No matter the odds.”

And although your sister could undoubtedly provide you with a long list of reasons why you shouldn’t, you believe his promise to be true.

__

The Mandalorian heaves a heavy sigh at the sight of his crashed ship. 

“I can’t do much about the landing gear,” you inform him, believing honesty to be the best policy for cases like this. “And I brought some foam-jet for the cockpit viewport, but it’s not a permanent fix. You’re going to have to find someone offworld to replace them.”

“Right,” he agrees absently without turning his eyes away. It occurs to you then that this ship is the closest thing to a home he has now. One of the few precious relics from his past he can still physically cling to. 

“Does your ship have a name?” you ask.

He looks at you, as if coming back to self-awareness, and answers, “Razor Crest.”

A good name, you think. Strong. A bit mysterious. Just like its owner.

You nod decisively. “I like it.”

His modulator crackles faintly, a quiet noise produced from a sudden exhale of air. You blink at the unexpected sound, surprised to realize you recognize it. A laugh. The Mandalorian just laughed at something you said. What is next in store for you? Are akul going to sprout wings and start flying?

He steps around you, heading for the side entry door still open from yesterday with its ramp laying on the ground, pebbles shifting noisily beneath his boots with each step. You don’t realize you are staring, oddly entranced by the swish of his cape and his purposeful strides, until he calls out your name to ask if you are coming.

You nearly drop your tool kit in your haste to follow after him into the Crest’s interior, ignoring the flaring heat radiating from your cheeks. 

For the next few hours, you and the Mandalorian work in companionable silence, engrossed in rerouting wires and welding damaged components with your trusty hand torch. The gunship is older than you initially assumed, perhaps even as old as yourself, and you idly wonder if the Mandalorian found it in a scrapyard somewhere or maybe inherited it from another Mandalorian. You notice the way he handles each piece with an experienced and respectful touch; the same kind of care someone reserves for their most cherished possessions. Anyone with eyes can see how much he loves the Crest just by watching him.

Once you have finished sealing the numerous cracks dissecting the cockpit’s viewport like a spiderweb with foam, you approach the Mandalorian to see his progress on returning power to the dashboard. He is on his back beneath the steering controls, rearranging a mess of wires, and barely acknowledges your presence when you squeeze yourself into the tight space next to him.

“The red wire goes before the white one,” you point out, noticing the mistake immediately. “Fire hazard.”

He pauses, looks at where you have gestured, and corrects his error without criticizing your intervention. You bite back a smile, pleased to be heard. Within your community, even though you have proven your skills time and time again, some of the villagers, usually men, don’t always adhere to your advice, thinking you are too young and too female to know about technology, until they inevitably make their problems worse for themselves and come back to you with their metaphorical tail between their legs. 

You help him reattach the cover plating once he has finished, screwing the bolts back into their corners, and then watch, fingers crossed, as he attempts the ignition sequence, flipping a series of switches.

None of them light up with even the faintest flicker of life.

“Dank farrik,” he growls under his breath, slamming a fist upon the console.

You take a tiny step forward, hesitant to direct his frustration your way. “Can I try?” 

He tilts his head, probably thinking he knows this ship better than anyone and if it doesn’t work for him then you aren’t going to have any luck either.

Eventually he steps back with a shrug, uttering a simple, “Sure.” 

Although you can’t remember the last time you were on a ship, it doesn’t take long to refamiliarize yourself with the various controls and screens once you take a seat in the pilot chair. When your hobby for fixing broken machines changed into a passion you wanted to pursue as a future career, you started memorizing any reading material you could find on the Holonet, including the flight manuals for different classes of starships. You flip through the stored information in your mind about gunships as you press a few buttons on the panel overhead, trying out different sequences for a response.

When your third attempt fails, you bite your lip, racking your brain for a solution. You think about Huno’s kitchen droid and how you had been on the verge of ripping off one of your head-tails trying to repair it after one of its fuses blew, causing it to malfunction. Your tools and knowledge hadn’t been able to fix it in the end. It had required a special remedy to bring it back to life.

You lay your palms flat on the console, just as you had held onto the droid’s square torso. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the Mandalorian fidget, as if he wants to come closer but is hesitant to crowd you. You ignore him, pressing your fingertips harder against the metal, visualizing in your mind the unseen gears, cables, and components stiff and powerless. You imagine the parts working properly, a current of electricity running through each wire, life ultimately returning to the entire ship, and whisper under your breath a request to the Force.

“Please work, please work, please work…”

An invisible pulse of energy burns down the length of your arms and discharges through your fingertips, strong enough you jerk backwards against the seat. Every button and screen on the dashboard lights up all at once, beeping with alarm at being so rudely resurrected.

You sit there helplessly, stunned and breathless, hands twitching in your lap. The kitchen droid hadn’t required even half as much energy to restart, barely a pinch. Now your body feels like you have been thrown against the electric fence a dozen times. Wordlessly, the Mandalorian comes to your side to help, punching buttons and turning knobs until the alarms quit blaring. A distant part of your brain thinks the Razor Crest as a whole seems strangely soothed by his presence, not quite as cold and dark, but it is hard to follow that train of thought due to the distracting pain throbbing along your temples.

“That’s quite a spark you’ve got,” he says, not unkindly or accusingly, just a statement of the obvious. He looks down at you, not outright asking for an explanation, but giving you the opportunity to open up if you wanted to.

“Yep, that’s me,” you reply, forcing a cheerful smile, praying it doesn’t resemble a grimace. “Sparks Tano at your service.”

He chuckles again, oblivious to how your heart stutters at its raspiness. “Thank you, Sparks. I appreciate it.”

“Well, we’re not done yet.” You rub at your temples under the guise of adjusting your headband. “I need to take a closer look at the engines before we attempt flying out of here. I—”

“I’ll do it,” he cuts in, already heading for the ladder. “You stay here, see if you can update the navicomputer settings.”

You know he knows that updating the navicomputer is child’s play for you. Clearly you aren’t as great at concealing your pain as you thought you were and this is his way of giving you a break. A small part of you is irritated at being treated like a porcelain doll, but you push those negative feelings aside as quickly as they develop. Your aunt always used to remind you and Ahsoka it was okay to accept help when it was offered, that needing support didn’t in any way make you weak. 

“Hey, wait a second,” you call out as you spin around in your seat, freezing him right before he disappears from view into the hull. He holds onto the ladder, waiting patiently for you to continue.

“Back at Maar’s place you didn’t introduce yourself and it’s weird just calling you Mandalorian in my head,” you say, awkwardly drumming your fingers on top of the armrests. He doesn’t answer, eliciting a sigh from your mouth after a drawn-out beat of silence. “What’s your name? You do have one, right?”

“I do, but I can’t tell you it,” he admits at last. “By Mandalorian Creed, only other Mandalorians or my riduur—my spouse,” he corrects, seeing your confusion, “are allowed to know my name and see my face. This is the Way.”

He doesn’t linger to hear your response, dropping down into the hull with a resounding thud. You slowly turn back around, staring absently out the glass. Every culture is unique, including your own, but you think there is something especially interesting about the Mandalorians’. It sounds like a lonely existence, only able to show your face while in select company. What would have happened if he had been unconscious and you had slipped the helmet off his head? What consequence would he have faced? 

And if there truly aren’t any Mandalorians left besides him, his spouse will be the only one to ever know him completely. It almost sounds like a love story, if not a little bit heart-wrenching. 

Two high-pitched dings from the console jerk you out of your thoughts with a wince. You look for the source, finding the radar lit up and actively scanning the area, and bristle when you see a pair of red dots moving across the screen. 

Not even a minute later you are sprinting out of the cave, ignoring the Mandalorian’s alarmed shout from the roof of the Razor Crest. They’re early, you think with panic, looking towards the sky where two starships with Imperial logos are heading straight for your village. Why have they come back so soon?

You push your legs to run faster, your surroundings a blur beyond the trail in front of you, but the effort is meaningless. You won’t make it back home before they land.

And when your absence is noted, bloodshed is not a possibility. 

It is a guarantee.

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[gamerwoo]

[Tales from the Pack] Seungkwan: Void (Part One)

Characters: Seungkwan x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, a little angst, fluff

Word count: 3,379

Summary: Seungkwan can’t resist the urge to go searching for the banshee any longer, but his trip into the woods has him coming face-to-face with a strange girl who doesn’t seem to remember anything about where she came from or how she got where she is. The only things she knows are the things the voices in her head that Seungkwan doesn’t know about tell her. And that strange girl is you, his mate. 

Next | Void Masterlist

“I’m sick of this! Which one of you keeps doing this?!” Jihoon demanded, looking around at the pack with a scowl on his face.

Another night, another clap of thunder booming over the shriek from the banshee in the forest that was starting to get closer again. While the banshee was definitely more frightening than the thunder that made the house shake and woke everyone up, the latter was what was pissing everybody off because they knew it had to be somebody in the pack. Everyone just wanted to know when they’d be able to control their power.

“The lightening or the screaming?” Jia wondered.

“We know what the screaming is,” Soonyoung sighed, “Can whoever it is just hurry up and get their power already? I wanna sleep.”

“Well it’s not me,” Joshua shrugged, folding his arms over his chest.

Fingers were pointed at each other, but nobody wanted to take the blame. Even if it meant getting a new power, the pack clearly didn’t really like said power, and would definitely give the werewolf dealing with it a hard time. 

“Seokmin’s always loud, so it only makes sense he’d get a loud, annoying power,” Jeonghan sneered.

“Me?” Seokmin’s eyes went wide as the older wolf glared at him accusingly. “Seungkwan’s way louder!”

“Actually, Jun is,” Wonwoo said, rubbing one eye as he leaned against the doorway.

Just then, there was another scream. Everybody clamped their hands over their ears, some of the wolves even crumpling to the ground in pain at the high-pitched noise. Yeji scurried over to Jihoon with her ears flattened on her head as she buried her face in his back and whimpered.

“Holy fuck,” Jihoon groaned once the noise had died down, “that’s the worst noise I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“Hold on,” Jooyeon interrupted after she’d lifted her head and looked around, putting her hands up to signal the pack to be quiet. She stepped further into the hall, looking over to Seungkwan’s doorway – his empty doorway, “where’s Seungkwan?”

The members of the pack looked over to where he had been standing, but now was missing. Jihoon walked over and entered is room, but saw that nobody was there. Instead, he was met with a draft from Seungkwan’s open window.

“Seungkwan?” Jihoon called out the window, but there was just silence, and no sign of him outside. “Seungkwan!”

-

Seungkwan knew very well that the alphas wouldn’t want anyone going to look for the banshee, but his instincts were telling him to. He’d been ignoring those instincts every night, but he just had to go now. Everyone was distracted by the lightning and thunder so this was his only chance.

As soon as he was outside, he shifted to make sure he’d get away as fast as possible so that by the time anybody noticed him missing, he’d already be gone. The second scream was just lucky timing that gave him cover to leave. It hurt his ears immensely, but he had to sneak out while nobody could hear.

Despite the sudden lightning, there wasn’t any rain up until Seungkwan got deep into the forest. There was thunder grumbling somewhere far away as rain began to trickle from the sky in small drops, but the leaves still crunched under his paws as he ran toward where he had heard the noise.

As he ran further into the woods, he could smell…something. It was a smell that definitely drew him in. It almost smelled sweet; intoxicating, even. He followed it, wondering if that was where the noise was coming from. Even if it wasn’t, maybe he’d find something that could point him in the right direction.

It didn’t take long after picking up that scent to find you standing alone. You were wearing a long, tattered, dirty dress. You didn’t have shoes, your hair had leaves sticking out of it, and you were starting to get pretty wet from the rain that was picking up. You were facing away from him, but Seungkwan had already felt something just from looking at your back.

That intoxicating smell was coming from you, and he suddenly realized why it smelled so good as the rest of the world was blocked out around you: you were his mate – his mate that was lost in the woods for some reason. The question was why were you wandering around the forest at night – it wasn’t super late but it was still too dark for someone to be out here alone.

You heard a whisper in your head, ‘There’s something behind you.’

Slowly, you turned to see a large wolf behind you, it’s golden eyes following your every move. You gasped, falling to the ground in surprise. You scrambled backwards into a tree, your wide eyes never leaving the wolf in front of you.

‘I know him,’ the voice said, almost fondly. 

That didn’t really make you feel any better, but it was all you had considering you were the only person out in the woods. This voice knowing this animal was your only hope at somehow staying safe. You had only recently started hearing this one voice – one of many – but this one was more prominent, and sounded too sweet to be malicious.

The wolf didn’t make any moves to attack you. Instead, it looked at you like a human would, which concerned you. He -- the voice said it was a he so you assumed that’s what the wolf was -- studied you, bowed his head, and slowly walked toward you. You couldn’t back up anymore, and you were too afraid to run because you knew it could easily catch you. So you sat as still as stone and kept your eyes on the wolf’s every move.

Slowly, it approached, until it laid at your feet. Your breath was held, waiting for its next move, but all it did was nudge your shin with its wet nose. Then it licked your knee – both of your legs were pulled to your chest in protection. Why was it acting friendly?

What happened next, you definitely didn’t expect, let alone that fact the wolf licked you: the mousy wolf shifted to a man right before your eyes. He had high cheek bones, light brown hair, and his eyes were the same gold as the wolf’s.

‘No, not a wolf,’ you corrected yourself, ‘a werewolf.’

“Don’t be afraid,” the man said softly, cocking his head to one side as he offered you a small smile. “My name’s Seungkwan; I promise, I won’t hurt you.”

You watched Seungkwan without saying anything, keeping your knees to your chest. You tried to not notice his extreme lack of clothes, focusing more on the voice you were hearing inside your head.

‘You can trust him,’ it told you softly.

‘How can I trust you?’ you quizzed, your eyebrows furrowing together.

You were too spaced out, focusing on the voice, that you didn’t even notice how cold you were. Your body was shaking, your teeth were chattering, and your lips were faintly tinted a blue-ish purple. Seungkwan frowned as he observed this.

You were pulled from your internal conversation when you felt a warm hand on your knee. You almost put your hands over his, wanting to get closer to the warmth out of instinct, but you resisted. Instead, you just looked at Seungkwan curiously, wondering how his body temperature was so warm when you were freezing out here. Then again, he did just shift from a giant animal to a man, so his temperature was the least of your worries.

“You’re shivering,” he noted quietly, the frown still on his face. “I can take you someplace warm if you’d like. Or I can bring you back home if you remember where it is.”

Slowly, you shook your head. Your voice was just above a whisper when you spoke, “I-I don’t remember how I got here…”

“Well, you should get out of the rain,” he chuckled softly.

It was then you noticed his hair was flat against his head, dripping with water. You hadn’t even noticed how quickly the rain had picked up, and how it was now pouring even through the thick forest.

“Let me help you,” Seungkwan’s voice was low and quiet as he held his other hand out to you. “You’ll freeze out here, or some wild animal will find you. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

Between staying out in the forest and ensuring your death, or going with a strange man who was just a wolf a few minutes ago who may actually be telling the truth, your best bet was the strange man. You cautiously took his hand as he got to his feet, helping you up. He smiled, and you swore you heard a faint grumble in his chest – then again, it could’ve been the thunder.

“I’m going to shift back to a wolf,” he told you, “and I want you to climb on my back and hang on, okay?”

You nodded before you saw him shift back to the brown wolf from before. He laid down so it was easier for you to get on, so you straddled his back and gripped his fur at the scruff of his neck.

Seungkwan stood again before taking off back home, going slower than he had when he was going to find the banshee because he didn’t want you falling off. He was a bit disappointed he didn’t find the banshee because he wanted to ask her what her deal was, but he found his mate, which was better than anything he could’ve imagined.

Truthfully, Seungkwan was lonely. Seeing his brothers finding their mates made him a little depressed, and he wanted someone of his own he could hold and make happy as much as they’d make him happy. Finally, he would have that. You were going to fill that little space in his heart that he felt was missing.

You kept your face down so the rain wouldn’t pelt it, your eyes squeezing shut. Seungkwan’s fur was quickly becoming just as soaked as your clothes were, and the smell of wet dog became very prominent. Still, you held on with whatever strength you had left in your body.

It didn’t take very long for Seungkwan to reach the large house. He lowered his body so you could climb off, and then he shifted back to his normal self. You assumed you were at the backdoor of the house considering the large space and the gardens.

“We’ll have to be quiet or my pack will wake up,” he whispered, taking your hand in his and pulling you toward the door. “I don’t want you to get overwhelmed.”

“P-pack?” you stammered.

Seungkwan turned around, a finger pressed to his lips, “I promise I’ll explain after I get you inside, but you need to be quiet for now.”

You nodded, not wanting to cause more trouble for yourself.

Seungkwan grabbed what the pack called ‘the emergency shorts’ from by the backdoor. He tugged them on before leading you inside, keeping his movements completely silent. He knew a human wouldn’t be as stealthy as him, so he lifted you in his arms with minimal warning. You inhaled sharply out of surprise, but didn’t make any noise other than that, your arms wrapping around his neck in case he dropped you – that was definitely something you were afraid of.

He easily weaved through the dark house even though there was no light. Seungkwan saw perfectly even without any light, but you were completely lost. You didn’t know where you were until a light was turned on after a moment, and you saw you were in a bathroom. The door closed softly, and Seungkwan set you on your feet before going to the shower and turning it on.

“I’ll bring you a change of clothes,” he promised, going back to the door. “They’ll be a little big because they’re mine, but…they’re dry and clean.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled shyly.

“Of course,” he grinned a bright smile before leaving the bathroom to go get clothes.

Seungkwan went down the hall to his room to grab some clothes like promised. However, his room wasn’t empty like he left it. Jihoon was sitting on his bed, staring at the open window before his eyes shifted to the younger werewolf.

“Who did you bring home?” the alpha questioned.

“How did you–”

“I’ve been awake since Jooyeon realized you left,” Jihoon informed him, standing up and walking over to Seungkwan. “I heard you outside when you came back.”

“There was a girl in the woods, and…” Seungkwan trailed off, a smile taking over his face as he thought about you, “I imprinted on her.”

“Of course you did,” Jihoon sighed, shaking his head although he was laughing. “What’s her name?”

“I have no idea,” Seungkwan admitted, slipping passed the alpha to get clothes from the closet. “She’s in the shower right now – poor thing’s freezing.”

“Do you know how she got there?”

“She doesn’t even know. I don’t want to push her for information, though. She seems pretty afraid, but that’s expected.”

“You did shift in front of her,” Jihoon shrugged. “I don’t blame her for being scared. Just…keep an eye on her. We don’t need another Jooyeon situation.”

“She won’t run away, Hoon,” Seungkwan assured him, grabbing a shirt he was sure would be long on you since he wasn’t sure if his bottoms would fit you correctly. “She doesn’t know how to get home. I’ll see about somehow getting her into town to see if she remembers how to get home from there.”

Jihoon just nodded, going to exit Seungkwan’s room, “Good luck with that, Seungkwan. Go get back to your mate.”

“Not so loud,” the younger boy whined, going to bring the clothes to the bathroom. “I didn’t really explain…anything.”

“Considering how well the rest of you have explained imprinting to your mates,” Jihoon joked, rolling his eyes. “God, you’re all hopeless.”

“Speak for yourself,” Seungkwan shot back. “Yeji can back me up, too.”

As Jihoon disappeared back into his room with an amused chuckle, Seungkwan went straight to the bathroom, knocking softly twice before he entered. He was surprised to find you still in your clothes, but he understood when he saw you staring at yourself in the mirror, picking leaves out of your hair. He laughed softly, going behind you to help.

You let your hands drop to your sides as you studied Seungkwan in the mirror. His eyes were a warm gold that were somewhat comforting to look at, and the warmth his body emitted made you want to back up into him and use him as a human blanket. 

“Seungkwan,” you spoke up, though your voice was soft, “what…are you?”

Seungkwan continued to untangle a leaf from your hair, and didn’t speak until he had dropped it in the sink, “In short: I’m a werewolf.”

“I didn’t know werewolves existed,” you admitted. “I thought werewolves were just scary stories.”

He scoffed, “I’m not that scary, am I?”

“Not really,” you decided with a sheepish smile. “I did think you were going to eat me, though.”

‘Well…’ Seungkwan tried to not smirk to himself.

“One of our alphas has a mate who thought we were going to eat her, too,” he chuckled, remembering the fight Jooyeon put up against the pack – specifically Seungcheol – for a long time. Thankfully, you didn’t seem to be that guarded. “She’s gotten used to us, though. She’s very comfortable here.”

“A…mate?” you repeated. “What’s that?”

He took the time to explain how imprinting worked, what a mate was, and every question you had about werewolves. He spent the time picking leaves out of your hair while he spoke and you took in information. Throughout his explanation, you could hear faint voices in the back of your head, but you chose to ignore them this time in favor of listening to Seungkwan. He cracked a few jokes to make you feel at ease, and you found yourself smiling a lot more, even as he excused himself to find some clean towels.

You stripped yourself of your sopping clothes, leaving them on the sink before getting in the shower. The hot water made the tips of your fingers and toes burn from how cold you were in contrast, but you enjoyed it. The water relaxed your tense muscles and warmed you quickly.

Seungkwan entered the bathroom again, leaving the towels on the short rack across from the sink before he took your clothes and left to put them in his laundry basket. He then went to make some tea before you got out of the shower so he could at least get something warm in you. Tomorrow, he’d make sure to feed you – well, he’d make sure that somebody who made food better than him fed you.

When he went back to the bathroom and knocked, you opened the door wearing the shirt Seungkwan had given you. He grumbled happily as he looked you over, loving that you were wearing his clothes.

“Feel any better?” he asked as he handed you the mug.

You let your hands wrap around the sides to warm them more, “Yes, thank you.”

“Are you tired?”

“A little.”

He had checked the time and it was almost 2am, so he was shocked you weren’t more tired than you seemed. He gestured with his head for you to follow before leading you down the hall. Your bare feet padded against the hardwood as you sipped your tea, sniffling because of your drippy nose. Seungkwan obviously heard and turned around, pulling his sleeve down to wipe your nose before he opened the door.

“You didn’t have to–”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tisked, putting a finger to your lips, “don’t worry about it.”

You noticed Seungkwan was a bit more touchy, but you didn’t mind it. You were still a bit chilly, and Seungkwan’s heat was something you wanted to stay close to.

Seungkwan gestured for you to go into his room, so you did. He didn’t bother turning the light on since you were going to sleep anyway, but you could see his bed from the light that came in from the hallway. You went straight to the bed and sat down, still sipping the tea that was given to you.

Seungkwan closed the door, easily walking over to the nightstand and turning on a lamp. He sighed as he sat down beside you, one hand running through his hair, “We can’t really go into town, but I’ll find someone who can go with you to bring you home.”

You knew you couldn’t stay with the pack – Seungkwan was just a nice werewolf that had saved you from probably dying in the forest later – but you didn’t know how to tell him that you really didn’t remember how to get back. So instead, you just nodded, “Okay.”

“Do you want to sleep now?” he offered.

“I’m not terribly tired,” you shrugged, taking another sip of your drink.

“We can talk a bit more if you’d like.”

So you did. He told you about the pack, the mates, and a few of the things they were going through, like the half-cat girl that lived with them and the couple that had a baby together that he warned you might cry at any moment. He explained that some of the pack also couldn’t go into town anymore -- one of them being an alpha named Soonyoung who used to go into town at night for hookups before coming home. He also warned you about the sudden thunder that might wake you up, but he hoped not because it had already happened once earlier. This pack was certainly something, as Seungkwan had plenty of stories to tell you about.

Beside you, you could feel the warmth from Seungkwan’s body. He really was like some kind of space heater. You found yourself leaning into him until your head was resting on his shoulder, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he put an arm around you, resting his cheek against your head, and that was how you eventually fell asleep.

[adelindschade]

An addition to an addition in anticipation of @newtonsheffield news chapter. 

or the tiny Drabble where Gregory may have killed Newton. (Not Really) 

Lucy was a blubbering fool. The well put together, pragmatic girl who barely smudged her lip stick, let alone shed a tear, but here she was, barreling into him with such force Anthony not so gracefully scrambled to catch the nearest desk in hopes he wouldn’t tumble onto the carpeted floor.

It was in vain, of course. While Lucy miraculously stood in spite of her insanely impractical heels, Anthony was ever so grateful most of the office was out for lunch to not witness him sprawled out in the hallway, undone by a girl half his size.

He had half the mind to chew her out if it wasn’t for such a sight to welcome him. Lucy, the girl who was notorious for keeping each blonde tendril perfectly in place, was a blotchy mess of incoherent stammering and mascara seeping under her eyes.

His first instinct upon recognizing her distress was one he knew too well. He came to a slow rise and awkwardly patted her shoulder. She was not his sister and he would not subject either to an unnecessary HR meeting if he crossed boundaries. So, rather than pull her into a hug, he kept it simple.

“Uh, do you need a moment?” he asked, eyeing around for a room he could stow her away to. He’d provide her coffee or tea or whatever necessary after he isolated her.

“THE DOG IS DEAD!”

What.

“THE DOG” – sharp inhale – “IS DEAD!”

Dog. There was only one dog.

That meant.

“No,” he said decidedly, refusing to believe so.

She bellowed a high-pitched whine, then a gravelly groan, until the final cue – falling into a silent scream – which gave way to hysterical crying after she sharply inhaled for more oxygen.

She nearly deafened him.

He grabbed both shoulders and shook twice; she did not yield. Her hair rocked off her shoulders and all he accomplished was activating a louder volume he did not think possible from her tiny body.

It conjured Gregory from his office. The poor boy was bug eyed and almost tripped making his way out to investigate.

“What did you say to her, Anthony?” Gregory shouted, valiantly stepping in between them.

“I didn’t say anything! She’s hysterical!” Anthony defended, raising his hands in the air.

“Why?” Gregory demanded. His brother’s hazel eyes narrowed with accusation.

“DEAD! HE’S DEAD!” she shrilled, surprisingly still standing. Gregory flinched as she raised to a new decibel.

“Who? Is your brother?” Gregory asked in a panic, extending a hand to her arm. If it were any other situation, Anthony would have noted the gesture as suspiciously affectionate. Yet, he had more prying matters.

“NEWTON!”

“What?” Gregory mumbled in disbelief.

“HE ATE THE CAKE AND HE WON’T MOVE!” She thrashed her hands in front her erratically. “I FOUND HIM AND HE’S… HE’S DEAD…”

“He ate… the cake…?” Anthony asked deadly low.

There was only one cake. The one he forbade staff to eat. The one he stored away in the staff room since the communal fridge was stocked full. The very one personally inscribed HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOM in purple icing, the same color his mother loved, and adorned with handcrafted flowers.

“FUCK’S SAKE, ANTHONY! THE DOG IS DEAD!” Gregory bemoaned, exasperated by his brother’s priorities. “Wait – the dog’s dead – oh my God, is Newton really dead?” he asked in fright, finally grasping the reality of the situation. His eyes were the size of saucers as he took in Lucy’s uncharacteristically hysterical state.

“He better be!” Anthony growled through clenched teeth, stomping to the lounge determinedly. Gregory was slow to follow, urging Lucy to come along tenderly.

He didn’t know exactly how’d he react to the scene but he didn’t anticipate his reaction when he burst into the well-lit corner kitchenette.

First, the cake. Half-eaten and positively ruined. Smeared across the tabletop and some splattered onto the tiles beneath it. It was unrecognizable. Ruined. Utterly ruined and with no time to replace it unless some miracle ought to take place, so would he be, too. Expensive, matter of fact. Buttercream wasn’t cheap. Neither were the fondant flowers.

He’d strangle that fucking dog, if it was the last thing he’d do.

The rage was predictable. The blame was easy to place.

His hands tangled themselves in his hair, combing backwards slowly as he began to register the utter mess before his eyes.

“Who put it on the table? The bloody dog can climb chairs!” Anthony bellowed. The ‘big-boned’ Corgi defied all gravity where food and water were concerned!

“Oh shit,” Gregory gasped behind him. “My bad.”

Anthony spun to glare, releasing one hand from his scalp to attempt to strangle his brother in the dog’s place. Gregory dodged and hid behind the blonde.

“The dog!” Lucy shrilled, face contorting once more into that unsettling mess.

“Where is that bloody dog?” Anthony demanded, searching the room with his eyes, and when that failed, he stormed ahead to where he knew where the Corgi’s bed was tucked into the obstructed corner.

Instead, his rage came to a full stop, and his heart sunk to his stomach in the most churning, plummeting feeling he’s had since his miserable attempts to propose to Kate.

“Oh no…” he fell into a whisper.

The dog looked dead. Dead as can be. Limp with his legs sticking stiff and rigid in the air. The whole scene was smeared with the damning white sugary evidence, buried into the dog’s coat.

How much cake could kill a Corgi?

Didn’t matter, Anthony theorized with the worst dread, because Newton was dead.

“No, no, no, no, no,” he pleaded in unprecedented panic. He didn’t care if his pants were caked with white icing when he knelt to the floor to grasp the hefty beast. He shook but the dog was rigid and did not move an inch. Not a single reaction. Anthony thrashed him some more, shaking with desperate vigor.

“Let’s not abuse his corpse!” Gregory squealed behind him, attempting to pry him away.

The bloody heft of a dog was impossible to shake. He barely even rolled in his own sugar filth. Fuck – what did Kate feed him?

“Wake up! C’mon! C’mon! Wake up! Please!” He heard his own voice crack at the end.  “Damnit! Wake up! God, oh no, not now! Not today! Why today?”

Gregory inadvertently killed Newton on their mother’s birthday.

Forget the bloody cake! Kate was going to be ruined! Kate would put Lucy to shame in hysterics. Then she’d recycle that grief into anger and kill them all.

“Lucy!” Anthony demanded.

He had to fix this mess. That’s what he did best. He had to.

“Y-y-yeah?”

“Clean this up! Get rid of the cake!”

“But…? What about mom?” Gregory had the stupidity to ask.

“Are you really going to give that to our mother?” Anthony seethed, glowering up at his idiotic brother. Gregory flinched and then stepped to it, taking the cake and dumping it into the trash can, the little one that could barely accommodate the size.

“Towels, Lucy! Towels! Wipe it up!”

“I get your stressed,” Gregory grumbled, “but be gentle with her, will you? She did find the body…”

“You two were supposed to watch the dog! He’s dead! Now I have to make it right before Kate sees this!”

That prompted another shrill would-be-scream had it not been for Anthony’s glare, shutting her up to a mere whinny of whimper as she swallowed what was left of it. She shook like she was being electrocuted but nonetheless, to her credit, went straight to the cupboard where the cleaning supplies could be found.

At least she was efficient. Gregory was standing there, gob-smacked, blinking at Newton with a faraway look in his eyes.

“Is he really dead?”

Forget Newton – he was going to pummel his braindead brother!

“Yes, he is, you draft ninny! You left the cake on the table!” Anthony shouted.

“I thought only chocolate killed dogs…”

“AND HALF A WHOLE BLOOD CAKE CHOCK OF SUGAR WILL, TOO!”

He heard Lucy slip a sob but she bit back the next one, focused singularly on wiping the frosting off the tabletop.

“Why not just be honest with Kate?”

“She’ll kill us all! We have to get rid of the evidence and make her think it was natural!”

Seriously, what had times come to, if he was willing to cover up a dog’s death to salvage his relationship with the love of his life and simultaneously on his mother’s birthday – the celebratory cake being the weapon, of course, too!

“He’s only like… six or seven… right? It’d be hard to think he’d just… drop dead…” Gregory pondered with a head scratch.

“You dimwit,” Anthony pushed through clenched teeth. “We have better odds convincing her he succumbed to something else other than your bloody negligence! I’m doing this for your sake, too! What do you think she’ll do to you if she learned you left the bloody cake out and left her dog unattended? She’s not going to blame the damn dog!”

“Oh…”

Maybe, just maybe, he should reconsider. Just feed his half-brained brother to Kate. He contemplated sacrificing Colin for less.

He quit his efforts of reviving the dog and leaned back on his legs, staring down with sagged shoulders.

“You bloody, rotten dog…” he muttered sourly, and then, he felt himself deflate as he began to ponder his own emotional investment to the beast.

He was a nuisance; a trial condensed in an overweight, stubby, four-legged vessel – sent by the devil himself to make Anthony’s life Hell.

And yet, Newton represented the best parts of his new chapter – sharing a happy home with Kate; the source of joy and contentment for his mistress, who in turn, softened Anthony into the blissfully happy husband he never thought he’d allow himself to be.

Newton was the joy of Kate’s life. Without him, Kate would be besides herself, and Anthony despised to see her suffer. He’d be helpless. Sure, she’d recover, or maybe not, but still… she would not be herself for a very long time after Newton’s passing. It’d be a heavy weight on them all.

“Are you crying?” Gregory asked, noticing the glistening in his brother’s eyes.

“Shut up! Just shut up! Damnit!” he cursed, wiping his eyes – and cheeks – with his white sleeve. “It’s all your fault! Fuck!” He dropped onto Newton’s chunky corpse, hiding his face in the caked fur. “It’s all your bloody fault,” he raised hell but his voice was muffled by fat, fur, and who knows what else.

“You might need to change your shirt….” Gregory, the beacon of helpfulness, offered.

“JUST CLEAN IT UP! ALL OF IT!”

[ insert original snippet from @newtonsheffield]

When Kate walked through the front door she instantly knew something was wrong. Anthony was standing stiffly behind the Kitchen counter. Mug raised halfway to his lips. Lucy had a smiled plastered on her face, and Gregory was sitting at the small table staring off into space.

“What are you three up to?”

Anthony flinched “Why would we be up to anything?”

Lucy let out a shaky breath averting her eyes to the floor. Kate looked around the kitchen something was missing. She frowned.

“Anthony, you were supposed to pick up your Mother’s birthday cake this afternoon. Haven’t you done it yet? The bakery will be closed.” Then several things happened at once.

Lucy screamed “NEWTON IS FINE!”

Anthony yelled, “Gregory left it on the table! He knows Newton can jump onto the chairs!”

Gregory gasped dramatically, as Newton tipped sadly from his bed in the corner.

[end]

[resume]

DEATH ON A BIRTHDAY

“OH MY GOD!” Anthony exploded. “YOU’RE ALIVE!”

“HE’S ALIVE!” Lucy shrilled, damn near ready to collapse her. She would’ve if it wasn’t for Gregory catching her, cradling her to his chest, and bearing the brunt of her high-pitched decibels that would’ve shattered glass. He made a wise choice to pivot her face directly into his chest, muffling the noise itself.

“YOU ROTTEN BASTARD, YOU’RE ALIVE! STUPID, STUPID DOG! YOU’RE ALIVE!” Anthony shouted, startling the creature. Anthony made an unbecoming move and knelt to the ground, solely to scoop up the bastardly beast onto his lap and soil his spare good suit with cake and dog fur. He kissed the dog’s head and buried his nose into Newton’s thick neck. “YOU BLOODY DUMB DOG! YOU’RE ALIVE! YOU IDIOT!”

“Anthony, are you crying?” Kate choked.

“SHUT UP!” He cracked, hiding his expression in the dog. His arms kept Newton captive in his lap, not that Newton minded as he lapped up any kind of affection.

“Newton, baby, are you okay?” she cooed, falling into a hoarse whisper. She knelt down to his level and stroked his abnormally large ears. He grinned and closed his eyes in contentment. “You chonk! You’re going to be so sick!” she sang, nuzzling into his belly. “You’re okay!”

“I’ll… go get cake…?” Gregory interjected.

“Yeah, sounds good,” Kate replied softly, pouting at her four-legged companion.

At the same time, Anthony could be heard growling “now, or you’ll be late,” though Newton’s thick coat inadvertently muffled most of the acid.

“I had… had a… back-up….” Lucy gulped down another hysteric. “-Back-up made,” she finished.

“Bless her,” Anthony mumbled. The man was red in the face and sniffling.  “Give her a raise.”

“I did, two months ago,” Kate cooed, acquisitioning Newton and curling him up on her lap, belly up. “I anticipated your usual bout of Bridgerton shenanigans but,” she snorted, “this one takes the cake.”

CAN’T HAVE YOUR CAKE AND EAT IT, TOO

Anthony was not a fool to know nothing was truly over when the agent of chaos was lapping up scraps and scritches innocently at their feet as they dined on dessert. He eyes him cautiously, leaning down every now and then to meet the dog’s wide, brown eyes with accusation glaring in his own.

“No, you had enough,” he warned sternly when Newton rose upon realizing Anthony bore a caked fork.

“Stop being mean to my dog,” Kate slapped his knee.

“You dog almost ruined my mother’s birthday,” Anthony grunted.

“You and Gregory tried to cover up Newton’s death. Seriously?” Kate retorted dryly, unimpressed. “I would have found out. Trust me, if I couldn’t wake him up, we’d be on our way to the Emergency Vet. No offense, Violet,” she half-apologized when she noticed the matriarch glancing across to them.

“None at all, I know you are quite fond of him,” she smiled in return. “I would understand.”

“A dog,” Anthony reminded to his wife.

“You cried over him.”

“I was under stress. Gregory was no help.”

His brother a couple seats down scowled.

“A dog...?” Simon teased.

“Shut up!” Both Gregory and Anthony lamented.

Then, all heads spun when the undeniable sound of something gagging broke the evening chatter.

“Newton, no!” Anthony jumped up hastily, ushering the creature away from his mother’s favorite rug. The dog stopped, mouth wide as can be, and made another similar sound. Anthony pushed the dog ahead, towards the front door.

Kate had tried to hasten the distance by coiling her arms around his chunky middle and half-carrying to the intended doorway but could only muster as close to the pile of shoes before awful colored bile erupted from the canine’s jowls.  

“Oh, God,” Anthony cringed when it encompassed a larger puddle. It was thick and mucus-like.

“No!” Kate shrieked when he adverted his head to gag some more, erupting another massive pile of vomit into a familiar set of shoes. Right into the inserts.

Anthony yowled in laughter.

“My shoes!” Daphne squawked, breaking sound barriers.  

“They’re safe!” Kate roared, waving the pair of blue suede Manolo Blahnik’s into the air.

“Oh goodness,” Daphne expressed with great relief. Her hand came to her chest as she did, reclining back into her cushioned seat and letting her head fall back as she exhaled.

“Who’s the unlucky bastard?” Simon called out, curious. Violet threw him an unsavory look, displeased by his retort.

“You!” Anthony could barely reply, heaving in laughter to the point he doubled over. ‘

“Newton, no, please, no, ah!” She desperately tried to usher him onto the front door rug but Newton crawled to the next pair of shoes – men’s – and did the same.

Anthony snorted through his nostril and stumbled farther away, seeking leverage on a tufted chair while he let himself  wheeze at the turn of events.

“I’m so sorry, Colin!” Kate whimpered, swatting away shoes left and right while her dog was occupied at the moment.

“WHAT??”

Simon fixed his face into the most disgusted expression Daphne had ever seen and much like her brother, began to slip into laughter that was most unladylike. He’d have to drive home with just socks – and the thought of his abandoning his favorite set of loafers because perpetual rot just spurred another snort from her nose. She couldn’t stop and next thing she knew, she was covering her entire face, sputtering and kicking while Simon gaped and contorted his features into something repulsed.

Like brother and sister, Colin, too, was appalled by the fact his shoes were soiled by dog vomit, but his siblings were much too amused at his sour luck. They howled and yelped while Kate whimpered in defeat while Newton continued to gag and defile the two set of neighboring shoes while she did her damnedest to salvage the rest – starting with the ladies’, of course.

Anthony would not recover for another five minutes from his fit, coaxed by the lovely backdrop of the Corgi hacking and whining – followed by the gut-wrenching sound of bile further entrenching itself into his brother and brother-in-law’s shoe.

He didn’t care if he had to repay the difference or buy a replacement. The look on their faces were worth it.

[lnc2]

baby please (come home)

Summary: It’s the first Christmas after Hawkmoth’s defeat and Adrien is struggling without his lady.

A/N: This is an @mlsecretsanta​ gift for @dailyplagg who requested ladrien.  I hope you like it!

AO3

The words bah humbug never had a place in Adrien’s vocabulary.  But as he hit the snooze on yet another alarm he felt he was as close as he ever would be to sympathizing with its originator.

Ebenezer Scrooge had nothing on him.

Adrien didn’t need corporeal manifestations of the past to haunt him into the holiday spirit. He had enough ghosts hanging around as it was.  His father’s empty house, his father’s empty chair. He was used to missing his mother this time of year but burying her in the spring reopened old wounds.

Reporters stopped calling months ago but Adrien still saw the occasional photographer in the bushes across the street.  No amount of quiet menacing from the Gorilla could keep them all away but then again who could resist the tragic son of a convicted terrorist?

Not the tabloids. 

The first few weeks were the worst.

The shock, the pity, the speculation. 

The trial.

Adrien didn’t think he would ever be able to explain just exactly how it felt to testify against his father, not once, but twice.  The press was quick to point out how somber Chat Noir was in those days, unable to muster a smile even for his lady.

His lady.  

Hah.

His third and final ghost sat like a weight on his chest, an ache in his hand, a phantom limb.  She’d never understood why Hawkmoth’s reveal had rattled Chat Noir as much as it had, but she’d rarely spent a night away from him in the beginning.  His days were filled dodging reporters and hiding out with well meaning friends like Nino and Kagami and Marinette while his evenings were spent racing across rooftops with his partner who didn’t know his reasons but knew his hurt.

Until she left.

“Just for the semester,” She’d assured him, quickly taking his hand in her own as they ignored the city laid out before them in favor of each other’s eyes.  It had been that way for a while now, long enough for Adrien to hope that maybe his lady was finally his lady.  A fledgling desire that was quashed the instant she told him she was leaving.

“I have an opportunity… I can’t turn it down.”

Adrien understood.  He did. Even if his heart didn’t quite believe her when she said,

“I’m not abandoning you.”

But the last thing he wanted to do was hold her back.  Wherever it was Ladybug was going, whatever it was that was taking her away from him, well, she deserved it.  Paris was safe now. He knew she was in university like him. She couldn’t keep her life on hold forever.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t miss her.

Some nights he’d wonder where she’d gone, who she was seeing, what she was doing.  If she were happy, if she would stay.  

If she were thinking of him.  

Those last thoughts sent him into a melancholy spiral that even Plagg couldn’t pull him out of.

And as the days turned into weeks into months, he found himself sinking further into his despair.  His therapist, an Alya-Nino-Marinette intervention insistence, told him it was only natural to feel low as the holidays drew near.

“After all,” She’d said, fixing him with the best earnest, non-judgemental glare money could buy. “You’re coming up on some big anniversaries.”

The happiest time of year indeed.

Sighing, he snuggled deeper beneath his covers, ignoring his alarm as it once again filled the room.  Plagg would take care of it when he was irritated enough- right now Adrien couldn’t muster up the energy to reach across the bed.

Maybe he should just skip the party tonight.

Even as that tempting thought crossed his mind he knew it was a nonstarter.  Nino would skin him alive if he bothered sending the sorry bro i’m just not up for it text he was already mentally drafting.

“It won’t be the same without you,” His friend had said when Adrien tried to reject the initial invitation. “Don’t bail on us at Christmas. Between you and Marinette the group has been pretty small lately.”

Nino wasn’t wrong.

Audrey Bourgeois had offered Marinette another opportunity to intern with her in New York and this time she’d accepted.  It had been tough, missing not just one but two of his closest friends these last few months. But Marinette had been in constant contact through group chats, instagram, and on one particularly rough night three weeks back, a two hour long phone call to talk him down from a panic attack.

At the time she was the only one who would answer her phone but in the end Adrien found she was exactly who he’d needed to talk him down.  He’d panicked later, texting her apology after apology, but her long string of emojis and all caps insistence that that’s what she was there for went a long way to easing his guilt.  Still, he was dying to thank her in person.

But Marinette wasn’t due back in Paris until after the New Year.  Making it that much harder for Adrien to drag himself out of bed and into the shower so he wouldn’t be late.

“Do I even need to shower, Plagg?”

His kwami gave him a sniff.

“You smell great to me.”

A shower it is.

Groaning Adrien rolled himself to his feet and shuffled off to the bathroom.  If he hurried he could still meet Nino at Alya’s place before they left for the bar.

It was hard to leave once he got there though and he found himself lingering under the hot water.  If he hadn’t given the Gorilla the week off he might have asked him to drive him over but as it was his best bet was probably taking a cab. Bribing Plagg to transform was always an option but with Ladybug out of the city Chat Noir was making fewer and fewer appearances.  Transforming tonight was guaranteed to attract attention, which was the last thing he wanted these days.

Resigning himself to a cab and a stranger’s curious stares, Adrien stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. At this rate he was going to have to meet his friends at the party.  He stepped out of the bathroom to grab his phone and update Nino only to stop short.

Ladybug was sitting on the edge of his bed.  She was kicking her feet together, agitated, as she stared down at her fidgeting hands.  Her hair was longer and pulled into a ponytail but she was otherwise the same as he’d last seen her yoyoing off into the fading summer sunset.

Something like a whine escaped his throat and her head snapped up.

“Adrien!” She squeaked, jumping to her feet.  “I– you– oh .” Ladybug’s face flushed pink and her eyes roamed over him once, twice, before resting firmly on his forehead.  “Your w-window was open so I…” She gave a jerky wave. Adrien glanced towards his windows and then back to her, not entirely believing she was actually here.

“ Lady- bug?” He said, voice cracking on the second syllable.  Her eyes, blue and familiar and dear, flicked down to his.  She bit her lip, a nervous habit he didn’t know he missed, and nodded.

Something tight and painful eased in his chest.

“I thought you left Paris.”

Ladybug’s smile was too sad, eyes too knowing when she said 

“I came back early.”

“Oh.” His hand found the back of his neck and he gripped it tight to keep himself from reaching towards her. “When…?”

“My plane got in an hour ago.”

“I see.” He said, not seeing at all. How heres and why mes flooded his thoughts but before he could even begin to give them voice Ladybug shifted, averting her gaze away from his.

“I didn’t mean to catch you at a bad time.”

It took him another moment to realize he was still wrapped only in a towel.  Adrien yelped and crossed his arms over his chest only to scramble back to grip the towel again as it threatened to slip down his hips.

Oh god this isn’t happening.

“I– can I have a moment?”

Ladybug nodded, eyes focused somewhere above his head, and Adrien rushed to his closet to pull on the first set of clothes he could find.  It wasn’t until he was already running back to her that he realized he’d pulled on the red and black Christmas sweater Nino bought for him as a joke.  The sweater was a monstrosity that read Jingle Bug in bright gold letters with every black spot adorned with a matching gold bell.  Adrien loved it when he unwrapped it but wearing it for his friends and wearing it for his lady were two entirely different things.

Horror filled him as he jingled back to her. 

Ladybug’s lips twitched.

“Please don’t,” Adrien groaned, running his hands through his hair.  “It was a gift from a friend.”

She giggled, shoulders shaking with poorly suppressed laughter and even though it was at his expense, Adrien’s heart flipped at the sound.

How many months had it been since he’d heard her laugh?

“I missed that,” He said, smiling softly.

Ladybug’s eyes sparkled in the overhead lights as she met his smile with her own.  It wasn’t until the silence stretched between them that he realized there was something wrong with this picture.

“What– um,” He coughed, blushed.  Tried again. “What are you doing here?”

Ladybug’s smile fell and he rushed on.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you.  Because I am. Happy, that is. But, um… why...” me?  He swallowed. “Why here?”

It’s not like they’d never spoken before.  Adrien found himself caught up in several akuma attacks over the years, unable to transform and rescued by his lady. And even after his father… well, after , Ladybug made it a point to stop by every once and a while to check on him.  More so in the early days, when the press and police and speculation about his own possible involvement in Hawkmoth’s schemes were under scrutiny, but still.  It wasn’t completely out of the question that she would drop in on a random evening.

Just not like tonight.

Even in his wildest daydreams, he couldn’t delude himself into thinking Adrien Agreste was so important to Ladybug that she’d be his first stop on her return to Paris.  Not before checking in with friends and family. Not before checking in with Chat .

Adrien’s heart beat an unsteady tattoo as he searched his partner’s face.  Ladybug’s eyes were soft, her smile kind as she reached forward and took his hand in hers.

“I heard you needed me.”

Always.

The word, fierce and quick, stuck in his throat.  It’s what he wanted to say. It’s what Chat Noir would say.

Adrien could only tremble as she entwined their fingers together.

“I’m just sorry it took me so long to get here.”

“My–” He stopped, his hand squeezing hers tight.  Her figure blurred behind the tears in his eyes and he was horrified to find some had already escaped down his cheeks.

Ladybug reached forward to cup his cheek with her free hand, thumb brushing away his tears, her spandex cool against his heated skin.

“It’s okay, chaton,” She whispered and even as the words left her mouth Adrien found himself collapsing into her arms, clutching and pulling and holding her to him.  His shoulders shook with sobs and he buried his face into her neck, relief and joy and exhaustion overwhelming him.

Ladybug’s knees buckled beneath their combined weight and Adrien sank with her to the ground.  Arms clasped tight around her waist he planted frantic kisses across her cheek, her ears, her forehead until they were both reduced to a teary, giggling mess.

“Silly kitty,” She murmured when he’d finally calmed down enough to pull away from her.  Adrien’s ribs felt tight around his chest at her sweet smile. She tapped his nose, once, twice and shook her head.  “I told you I’d come back.”

“How though?” He stared at her, his beautiful, wonderful Ladybug.  “How did you know?”

“You told me.”

“What?”

She blushed and made to push herself away from him but Adrien held her tight.

“My lady,” He coaxed, pulling her closer and rubbing soothing circles across her back.

“You, um, you called me.” Her eyes flicked to and away from his.  Adrien buried his face in her hair. “T-three weeks ago. You were kind of upset and let some things… some Chat things... slip and I… put it together.”

Adrien’s hands didn’t stop their movement even as realization crashed over him.  Three weeks back and a panic attack he couldn’t control. A late night phone call with one of his dearest friends, abroad for an internship and absent for the last few months.  Incoherent rambling about his father, the press, his lady.

The breath fell out of him and his grip on the stiff woman in his lap tightened all the more.

“Marinette,” He breathed.  Slowly, realizing he wasn’t about to push her away, she returned the embrace.

“Marinette.” He said, again, for the joy of it.

“Adrien.” Ladybug, Marinette, said and he could hear the smile in her voice.

Not wanting to miss seeing the real thing, he pulled back and grinned in return.

“You’re home.”

“Yeah, kitty.” She murmured, shyly playing with the bells of his sweater.  “I’m home.”

[junietc]

car rides with you - peter parker

peter parker x reader

pairing: peter parker/spiderman x reader

word count: 6567

warning: swearing, some asshole who doesn’t know how to respect women, and fluffffff

a/n: i’ve had this in my drafts for way too long so i decided to finish it before i forgot it ever existed. its really long but i hope you’ll enjoy a one shot with our favourite little peter benjamin parker :)

send in requests and share your love ~

If you were being honest, it wasn’t like you needed Peter to drive you to and from school each day. You had options. You could take the bus or ask your dad to pick you up or even walk. But having a personal chauffeur didn’t hurt, and if he was so nice as to offer it, then how could you say no? 

Plus, it was on his way. Sort of. It was only a detour of about a block; maybe less a detour and more an alternate route? Either way, his apartment complex was hardly two minutes away. Five minutes to walk, three with your bike, six if you hobble over with a tweaked ankle. 

This was a route you’ve been intimately familiar with since you became best friends in the seventh grade. Back when your hair was barely past your ears after a platinum blonde mishap (you still immediately dyed it green after lobbing off half of it) and Peter was wearing the same hideous Star Wars sweater every day. Somehow, both of you believed these fashion choices would help improve your social status.

Both of you were delusional. 

Luckily, by ages sixteen (you) and seventeen (Peter, by default), you’d come to your senses. Sure, Peter’s penchant for sweaters persisted – why would any one person need five of what was basically the same sweater? – but you grew your hair back out and kept its inoffensive natural colour. And neither of you wore shirts with puns on them. Not anymore.

Earlier this year, back when you were still sophomores, Peter passed his driver’s test. Now with a full license and his aunt’s old sedan, he’s taken the habit of waking up the whole neighbourhood with his obnoxious honking.

Okay, maybe not the entire neighbourhood. Really, just you. 

Still, today was no different.

“Hey, Peter,” you yelled out as you swung the door open, “How about shutting the fuck up?”

You shoved your feet into your shoes and scrambled out, backpack dangling off the crook of your elbow and burnt toast between your teeth as you try to shut the door. Peter leaned across to push open the passenger door so that you could throw your things into the backseat. Papers flew out of the half-zipped bag and spilled onto the floor. 

“For the expletives, I’m afraid I’ll have to only give you a three-star passenger rating,” Peter quipped.

You frowned deeply, pulling the seatbelt. The mechanism got stuck, and you had to pull it out a few more times again. Peter just grinned at you, clearly taking joy in your glares.

“So, ready for the chem test?” he asked, shifting the gears. 

You rolled your eyes, knowing very well that you had sent him a distressed voice message at four in the morning of you crying, saying how you were going to fail, but decided to respond as nicely as possible. “Fuck off.”

He chuckled. He pulled up to the intersection, slowing down but not stopping at the sign. 

You mock gasped. “Wow, illegal. Imagine if there were cops. I’m going to have to give you two stars. I can’t have my Uber driver potentially getting arrested.”

He sighed, shoving you with his free hand. You almost scolded him for not keeping both hands on the wheel (one star!), but he began talking before you could. “You should know, that if I ever was sent to jail, it would never be for something as lame as not stopping at a stop sign”

You snorted before rolling your eyes. “Oh? What would it be for then? Pirating video games?”

“Exactly.” He winked exaggeratedly; you shoved his face to focus back on the road. You looked down at the charred toast, which had been sprinkling crumbs all over your lap. It was far from appetizing, but your stomach growled, and you decided to scarf it down – it was that or no breakfast at all.

Peter laughed at the wince you tried to stomach what was basically a brick of carbon. (Honestly, he laughed at your expense a lot. Some friend.) “I really don’t know why you haven’t just started waking up earlier. I mean, I pick you up at the same time every day and-”

“Okay dad. I’ll start waking up earlier,” you lied.

“I hope you know that I know, you’re lying.”

You flipped him off. 

-----

Lunch seemed to be the only time that you and MJ ever got to hang out at school, so you took pride in making the most of your conversations. 

The two of you shared a laugh and through your peripheral vision, you saw Ned and Peter waving at you before coming to sit down. “So, what are we talking about?” Ned asked as you turned to face them with a smile. 

“Where MJ is going to hide my body after she kills me,” you notice her crack a smile as Ned and Peter both give you strange looks. “I was thinking maybe throw me in a river, but she thinks that burying me twenty feet underground would make it harder for the cops to find.”

The two boys looked at you apprehensively as MJ chuckled as you grinned cheerfully. “Should I be concerned?” Peter asked before you all laughed. 

“Anyways. I was thinking of finally taking my driver’s test. I decided might as well get it over with no?” MJ and Ned both nodded at your suggestion, MJ even mumbling something among the lines of “finally”. Peter on the hand looked, well, skeptical. 

“You want to take it now? Out of the blue? Why? I thought you wanted to wait until you had a job,” he questioned.

After taking another sip of the juice box you managed to steal from Ned, you shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I might as well get it over with. I mean, it’s been well over six months since my written test and I’ve been practicing enough with you and my dad, so I should be fine.”

Peter nodded, though a slight frown still prominent on his face. The conversation steered over to a completely different topic when Ned brought up the chemistry test causing you to pretend to bawl and everyone to laugh.

After lunch had ended, you said your goodbyes to Ned and MJ as you and Peter stopped at your locker. You were in the midst of grabbing your book when he sighed heavily, causing you to stare at him. “You know if you really wanted me to stop driving you, you could have just said so,” his voice was offended as you scoffed.

“What? Where would you get that idea from idiot?”

Huffing slightly, he shrugged, “I don’t know, maybe when you said you wanted to finally get your license.” 

“Are you serious? I’ve been meaning to get my license for the past few months you dummy. Plus, I can’t count on you to drive me everywhere. You’re busy with your own life, you know with that Stark internship and everything. Not to mention, you’re still going to have to drive me to school, since I don’t even have a car,” you roll your eyes at the boy. 

A light smile started to tug on his lips. “Alright. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t trying to get rid of me,” he joked as you snorted in response.

“Oh trust me, I’ve been trying since the day I met you,” Peter pouts as you flicked him in the forehead. “Stop with that face. You know I suck up to how cute each time,” his cheeks tinged a pinkish hue as you ruffled his hair and laughed. 

“O-Oh. Yeah, haha. Sorry,” he murmured as you started to walk in the opposite direction. He caught up with you before heading over to English – which truly was your worst subject – and sitting next to each other. 

Peter fiddled with his pencil for the most of class while you aggressively took notes, wishing that Mr. Petersons would slow down and breathe.

“Alright class. That’s it for today but if everyone could just pick their partners for the project and try and get started over the weekend, that would be great,” as he dismissed everyone, you and Peter turned to each other, giving a silent acknowledgement that you were each other’s partner. 

Heading out of the classroom, you and Peter both went your separate ways. “See you after school!” you waved before heading to History.

History was blur of numbers, years and dead people that you were going to have to remember for an upcoming test, so you were thankful that the clock had finally read 3:00. Your teacher finally dismissed you, causin you to rush to the parking lot, seeing Peter already sitting in the front seat. “Hey there Parker,” you knocked on the window as he smiled and unlocked the door. 

“Hey, how was history?” rolling your eyes, you told him about the dumb test you were going to have to study for. He laughed as he buckled his seatbelt, “well at least you have the weekend to study for it. Speaking of which. When do you want to meet to work on the English project?”

Sighing slightly at the reminder that you had other things you also had to work on, you bit your lip. “Are you cool with Saturday? I’ll just walk over, maybe at like three or four,” Peter nodded as he started the car. 

“Sounds good to me.”

------

Swinging around Queens was always a nice break for Peter, seeing all of the buildings and feeling almost weightless was a nice distraction from all of his studies and duties but he always seemed to forget the time when he was doing so. 

Cue Peter – well Spiderman I guess – hurriedly swinging back to his apartment when he received a text from you saying you were at his door. “Shit, shit, shit!” he swore, finally reaching his window and climbing in. 

As he changed to some regular clothing, May’s voice echoed throughout the little apartment, talking to you as footsteps approached. “He’s been in his room for quite a while. I’m not sure what he’s been up to,” Peter was frantically trying to search for a shirt in his mess of a room when the footsteps got closer. “I have some muffins I baked earlier on the counter, feel free to have one if you get hungry. I’ll be off for a bit so just call if you –” May’s voice seems to be getting closer when she suddenly opened the door, revealing you staring at him, neck immediately snapping to turn the other direction. Peter tried covering himself with a pillow as May immediately said she had to go and left you both alone, very uncomfortable. 

You stood there, unsure of what to do and more so, where to look. Though obviously you looked away and allowed Peter to have his privacy finding a shirt, you couldn’t help but think of his shirtless figure. Since when did he start working out? ‘When did he get those abs? Is this the same Peter that literally dropped me during a drama performance last year?’ you thought to yourself, cheeks tinging pink as Peter finally put on a shirt.

“Hey, um – sorry about that. I was just –”

“Nope! It’s alright. We can just forget this ever happened,” you rushed to say, shaking your head.

Peter blushed before nodding. “Right. Let’s just erase the last two minutes from our brain.” 

You swung your legs as you sat on his bed. “You weren’t doing anything weird right? Because I know that guys - “

“That’s not what I was doing! I was just changing,” he shook his head as you laughed. “Asides from that. Do you want to start working on the project?” You nodded as the two of you got to work. 

– a few hours later –

  You were both hard at work, basically finished the first two parts of the project, leaving only the last section left when you flopped onto Peter’s bed dramatically. “I’m so exhausted,” you whined, as Peter chuckled. 

“We only have one more part to do and we’re practically done the project, so do you want to finish it now?” Peter asked, still typing in his laptop. 

You pursed your lips, pondering on the idea of that but shook your head ultimately. “Nah. I’m tired. Plus, we’ve been working our asses off the past three hours. I just need to breathe.” 

Peter laughed at your dramatics before he asking question. “Do you wanna watch a movie?”

Obviously agreeing to a break in any form, you nodded eagerly and headed over to the living room. You managed to steal a blanket from his bed and bundled yourself up as Peter turned on the television. “So, what are we watching?” he asked, flipped through the collection of old DVD’s. 

“Can we watch Star Wars?” he pleaded as you rolled your eyes, this was probably the third time this month he wanted to watch Star Wars, but you agreed to it anyways. 

“Fine, just don’t be annoying about it again.” 

------

The weekend seemed to breeze by with you desperately trying to study for the history test, and with only a few mental breakdowns and a couple thousand replays of your favourite song, you were ready.

Obviously, you severely underestimated how cruel Ms. Gail could have possibly been and left the classroom wanting to punch yourself, or her, in the face.

Luckily you didn’t have to endure another class seeing as the day was over and you could get home to your bed to cry in private. But before that of course, you were forced to see Peter’s face.

A light smile was etched on his face as you settled in the car. ��So how was the –”

“Don’t bring it up. I am already debating whether or not I should throw myself off a building,” you groaned, leaning your head back on the seat. Peter laughed before trying to reassure you that it really couldn’t have been that bad, but you responded with, “no it really was. I honestly think I only got one or two answers right.”

Trying to raise your spirits, an idea popped in his head. “Do you want to get sandwiches at Mr. Delmar’s? Maybe that’ll lighten up your mood,” he suggested as a bright grin formed on your face. As devastated as you were, you were sure that a full stomach would make everything better. “Alright let’s go.”

Obviously, parking was a nightmare in central Queens, so, you decided it would be easier to walk there instead. The two of you headed to the small corner shop, making light conversation. After opening the door to the store, the two greeted Mr. Delmar, Peter snatching a packet of gummies worms and you going directly to pet Murph, Mr. Delmar’s cat. 

“Hey Murph! How’s my cutie doing?” he purred in response before you walked over to the cash with Peter. “Hey Mr. Delmar! Business running smoothly?”

He smiled at you before answering. “Of course. I’ve got my two most frequent costumers keeping me in business,” you and Peter laughed before ordering your sandwiches, paying and heading off. 

You walked back to the school and got back in Peter’s car, eating your sandwiches in the school parking lot. The two of you conversed, making up dumb scenarios and silly topics for a while. Peter nearly choked of laughter as you tried to defend Tik-Tok.

“Not all of Tik-Tok is thirst traps okay! Maybe yeah there’s a weird subsection of it, but it really depends on the algorithm! Most of the users are sane – ish,” you argued as Peter shook his head. 

“I really don’t get it. And somehow you stay up until morning watching them! Didn’t you do that when Vine was still around?” he took a pause, a dramatic gasp escaping from his lips. “You’re not saying what I think you’re saying are you?”

You placed on a hand on your chest in slight offence. “No! What? Listen, I’m not saying that Tik-Tok is better than Vine, don’t get me wrong but –”

“But what? Tell me?” he raised a brow at you, suspicious as to which team your truly were on. 

You shook your head laughing before punching him on the side of his arm. “You’re such a piss off Parker. Hey, should we get going? It’s getting late,” Peter looked at the time on his phone before nodding, taking a final bite of his sandwich before starting the car. 

“Oh, shoot you’re right,” you smugly flipped your hair, as he rolled his eyes. 

“Aren’t I always?”

----

“You said yes?” Peter demanded, trying to keep up with you as you walked to your locker. 

Sighing as you rummage through your locker you answer, “Yeah I said yes. Noah is a good guy and quite frankly, I don’t see why it would even matter to you?” 

“You said that you would think about it!”

Turning to face him as you shut your locker closed, you rolled your eyes. “That was nearly a week ago and I’ve thought about it since then. Besides, it’s not like it’s that big of a deal. It’s just one date.”

“You see that’s where it starts!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. “It’s just a first date but then it’s a second and a third and soon he’s your boyfriend and he’s the one driving you to school and everywhere and then, where am I?”

You shook your head laughing slightly at the brunette. “Would you calm down Peter? You’re getting way too ahead of yourself for the first part. And yeah, maybe it’ll be more than one date but trust me you can keep driving me to school. Also we’ve been best friends since middle school, I wouldn’t just ditch you when I got boyfriend,” he seemed to calm down, nodding slowly at the words you were saying but he knew it was more than just being allowed to drive you to school. “I’ll see you around okay?” you smiled before heading off to meet up with Noah, who was standing with a group of his friends. 

Peter’s smile faded away shortly as he watched Noah wrap his arm around your shoulder. He was too busy thinking of different scenarios to notice Ned had come up beside him or the fact that you had slapped Noah’s arm away. “Hey Peter. What are you looking – oh. Sorry man,” Ned tried to console Peter, but the words seemed to pass his mind. Sighing, Ned tried to pat his shoulder. “I mean, it is kind of your fault.” 

“Excuse me?” the words seemed to catch his attention as he turned around to face his best friend. 

Ned shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets. “Hey not trying to be rude but maybe if you hadn’t chickened out into asking her out, you could’ve been the one dating her,” Peter stared at his friend, slightly hurt but also aware that everything he was saying was right. 

“Yeah, maybe if I had.” 

He couldn’t help but look at you wistfully, his heart almost aching at the idea of you going out with anyone else but him but at this point, what could he really do?

Waving bye to Ned, Peter headed off into his car and drove home since you were already going with Noah on your date. Once he got into his apartment, he saw May and smiled.  “Hey Pete, how was your day?” tucking his hands in his sweater pocket he sighed slightly. 

“It was okay, I guess. Erm – I’m gonna work on my assignment in the library. I’ll be back in a bit,” he said, heading off to his room to grab a few things. 

May shouted from in the kitchen, “alright! I’ll be heading off to grab a few things. Just be back before dinner!” he grabbed his suit and tried to get some fresh air to distract himself.

----

A month had passed, and you and Noah were happily dating, much to the dismay of Peter, who constantly tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his heart every time you two would display physical affection, but it was whatever. 

You got in his car and buckled your seat belt without a word to Peter. You were tired of schoolwork as you always were, so you weren’t as talkative as you usually were. Slumping into the chair and sighing heavily Peter stared at you.

“Everything okay?”

You looked at him surprised, nodding. “Of course! I’m just really exhausted. Got a lot of work, that’s all.” You sighed, looking at the text on your phone. “Hey, we should get going. May’s probably wondering where you are, and I have a date with Noah so I can’t be late.” 

The moment that Noah’s name was mentioned, Peter mentally rolled his eyes but nodded and started to drive again. 

He dropped you off at your place before texting his aunt May that he would be heading over to the library to work. He drove over and got to the library, trying to find a place to sit.

After finding a seat, he pulled out his laptop and worked for a while, maybe a few hours or so before heading back home. May still wasn’t back and Peter really needed some air, so he put on the suit before leaving through his window and swinging around. It was a nice distraction as he watched the sun slowly start to set, dealing with a few petty crimes around the neighbourhood. He was about to call it a day when he heard a shout coming from someone. 

“Hey! Get off me!” the voice sounded awfully familiar and as soon as he realized who it was, Peter’s stomach dropped. “I said get off!” you were shouting from about a block away, trying to keep a man away from you. 

“Oh, come on, you look all nice and dolled up. Why won’t you just –” the man started before you started to attack him with your bag. Sure, you weren’t scared of him, but you were really hoping he would catch a clue and leave you alone for the rest of the night. You were tired and your feet hurt, and the sun was setting so you really didn’t want to be walking alone back to your place in the dark. You’d forgotten your phone like a dumbass in your room, so there really weren’t that many options. “You bitch! I can understand why you’re walking all alone! I wouldn’t want to be near such a whore either!” the words sank into your skin as you made a disgusted face at the man. 

“Listen if you could please just leave me alone it would be –” as you placed your hands up trying to be defensive, the man grabbed onto your wrists and started to pull on you. “Stop! What are you –?”

“She said stop.”

Your head whipped around, and you saw Spiderman hanging from a web. You watched the man smirk and laugh for a minute, his hands still holding onto your wrists. “And what are you gonna do? From what I’ve heard about you Spiderman is that you’re just a kid. Don’t think that I’d fear a –”

Before he could finish his sentence, Spiderman had knocked him cold with a single blow to the face. He turned to you and tried to make sure you were alright. “Wow, I wasn’t expecting him to get knocked out. Are you alright miss?” you nodded, trying to massage your wrists, damn that guy had a firm grip. You glared at his lying figure, still holding onto your wrists. Spiderman’s eyes, or well, you couldn’t really see his eyes through his mask but whatever, moved to your wrists. “Are you sure? Here, let me see.” 

He took your wrists gently, examining the potential bruises and making sure you were okay. You smiled before taking back your wrists. “I’m alright, honestly. Thank you for your help, even though I didn’t really need it,” you stated, causing him to scoff.

“Um what? From what I saw, he was holding you and you couldn’t move,” he crossed his arms making you snort.

“That’s because I was trying to reason with him before kicking him in the balls,” you mentioned, causing Spiderman to choke in response. “Kind of stupid that guy. I mean my legs weren’t restrained. But whatever. Thank you though. I do actually appreciate it,” you smiled and was about to walk off before he kept talking. 

“Why are you walking alone? I mean it’s getting late, no? Why not call someone to drive you home?” he asked making you stop and turn around. 

You placed your hand on your hip and shrugged. “I don’t know. I just thought it would be nice to get some fresh air so I just decided to walk. But I’m starting to think I should just take the bus for the rest of the way back.”

“I could swing you back?” Spiderman’s offer was a surprising one, considering how this was your first time encountering the hero. Though it was a bit skeptical, you agreed to it, wanting to go home. “Just hold on tight alright?” he asked as you nodded, latching yourself to him, arms wrapped around his neck. You heard his breath hitch slightly as you wrapped your legs around his waist but ignored it as he shot a web up and started to swing. 

You screamed loudly, the adrenaline of being so high up and swing fast soon kicking in. “Do you even know where we’re going?” you shouted, the wind smacking you in the face. You rolled your eyes before giving your address to him and soon landing safely at your windowsill. Thankfully, your widow was still unlocked so you lifted it up and slid in. Before he left you tapped his shoulder. “Thanks Spiderman.” 

“Not a problem. Just being your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman.” 

He left soon, leaving you in your room, bored. You walked over to your desk and saw your phone there, a bunch of texts from MJ asking you how your date went so you went and responded. After binging a bit on Netflix, you decided to get ready for bed, knowing Peter was going to come honking at the door the next morning. 

----

“Wow, you’re early for once,” Peter joked as you sat in his car. You rolled your eyes at him, before turning on the radio. “How was your, umm, date yesterday?” he asked, clearly uncomfortable. 

You raised an eyebrow, confused as to why he had suddenly taken interest into your date with Noah. “It was the same as usual I guess,” you shrug. “Why?” 

“You walked home last night?” he huffed, causing you to readjust your position. You awkwardly nodded, because you knew he was going to go into his “you shouldn’t be walking home alone late at night” speech. 

“Yeah,” you admitted, as he stopped at the red light. “How did you know –”

He kept his eyes on the road before speaking. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you pursed your lips, shrugging once more. “I went to bed pretty early for once. I just forgot about it, I guess. Sorry,” you tried to apologize yet Peter’s face stayed stern. 

“Why didn’t Noah drop you off?”

You were shocked at his tone but answered him, trying to keep your own temper. “He said he had to go somewhere once we were done the movie. He apologized for your information. He’s got more in his life then just me.”

“No one goes on a date with someone and just leaves because they were ‘busy’,” he argued. You rolled your eyes at his behaviour. 

“Would you cut it out? It really wasn’t that big of a deal,” you snapped, crossing your arms and turning to look outside of the window. 

Peter turned to you and glared. “Not that big of a deal? I heard some guy tried to attack you,” he retorted, causing you to turn back and face him, confused as to how he knew. 

“Who told you?” 

“That doesn’t matter!” his tone was harsher, making you wince at the volume. He took a breath and regained his composure. “I just can’t believe Noah let you go home alone. Why didn’t you take the bus?” 

You were getting tired of his protective behavior, sighing. “Oh my god Peter. I’m not a helpless child, I can walk home on my own! For your information I didn’t have my bus pass. Besides it was hardly dark!” your attempts to reason with him fell on deaf ears. 

“There were so many other things you could have done though!”

“Like what?” 

“You could have called me!” 

“You were busy! You have a life that’s not taking care of me twenty-four seven! I don’t want to have to rely on you for every fucking moment of my life!” you retaliated, breathing heavily. “Besides, I didn’t even have my phone.”

“You could have –”

“Could have what Parker?” you were sick of him treating you as if you were incapable of doing anything. “I get that you’re just trying to look after me, but I can handle things on my own!” 

“Can you? Because it seems like the one time you are on your own you get yourself in situations like yesterdays!” 

“You think that it was my fault? You think that some guy trying to assault me is my fault? Are you fucking serious right now? You know what, I’ll just get Noah to drive me home tonight seeing as you clearly don’t trust me walk home on my own, because I don’t want you to drive me anymore. Don’t wait for me after school,” and with those words, the car had come to a stop and you slammed his car door, leaving Peter to slap himself across the forehead at his stupid mistake. Groaning to himself, he placed his head on the steering wheel. 

“What the fuck did I just do?”

------

It had been two weeks since you and Peter’s argument and neither of you had spoken to each other since. There had been awkward moments where you two would cross paths, like if you were hanging out with MJ and Ned, but you made it seems as if it were your sworn duty to ignore the boy. You sat with Noah and his friends at lunch and either walked home or had your dad pick you up. 

That was all until one fateful night.

It was maybe eleven, possibly even midnight, and Peter had just gotten back from patrol. It was boring that night. Nothing happened, maybe a guy flashing people down the street but asides from that, the city was calm.

He had climbed back into his room and sat down on his bed, laying up at the ceiling. He hadn’t done much the past few weeks since he didn’t have you to bother him with, so his life was boring. He laid there for a few more minutes before his phone buzzed.

He was quick to get up and grab his phone, wow addicted much, and his eyes squinted when reading the name, making sure they weren’t deceiving him.

you: hey

you: do you think you could come over?

Peter: ofc! On my way right now

you: thanks :)

The ride to your house was short and before he knew it, you were sitting beside him, awkwardly staring forewords. “Can we drive? Anywhere is fine,” you mumbled under your breath, latching on your seatbelt.

Peter nodded and started to drive off. He glanced to look at you a couple times, watching as you anxiously played with the sleeves of your sweater. Maybe ten minutes had passed, and you motioned for Peter to park the car on the side of a quiet street.

“Me and Noah broke up.”

Peter looked at her surprised. “Oh. Do you want to talk about – “

“Do you still have those movies you downloaded on your phone?” you asked quickly, avoiding his previous question. He nodded as you smiled. “Can we watch one of them in the back? I really just don’t want to think about anything.”

Peter smiled at the girl. “Anything for you.”

So, the two of you sat in the backseats of Peter’s old sedan, wrapped up in an old blanket and watching trashy romcoms together.

And it was perfect.

-----

The two of you had finally made amends after the incident and nearly a month had passed until the two of you were working on a project in Peter’s apartment.

While Peter was vigour sly typing up the document, you laid on his bed, playing with various Knick knacks he had scattered around his room.

“Peter?” He hummed his response before you continued. “What’s the first thing that comes to your mind when you think about me?” 

“Sorry?” He paused his writing, confused at why you had suddenly decided to go into such a deep question.

You sat up for a second, repeating the same question. “What do you think of when you think of me?” you collapsed back down onto your back and laid your head on your arms. “Go on. Answer it?” 

He took a second to think about it before answering: “Annoying.”

“You think I’m annoying?” you deadpanned, rolling your eyes at his childish answer. 

“Undoubtedly. Every day I wonder how far I can shoot you into space,” he joked as you threw one of his pillows at his head. He caught it with ease, turning on his chair to face you. “Why are you asking? Did someone say something?” he asked defensively. 

You shook your head, playing with some strands of hair, braiding them carelessly. “No. I was just kind of sitting in my room earlier today and stumbled over a Tik Tok where a girl asked people what they thought of when they thought of her, so I just wondered about it. I asked MJ and she said that I reminded her of comfort and that one time we plotted to kill Ms. Gail,” Peter looked at you with a cocked brow as you shrugged. “I mean, at least her answer wasn’t as rude as yours.”

“Oh, come on. It was just a joke,” he tried to reason with you as you laughed. He left his desk and sat at the bottom of his bed beside you, taking a second to think about it. “I guess the first thing I think about, when I think about you, is cars.”

“Like the Pixar movie?”

Smacking you with the pillow he was holding, he rolled his eyes, “and you wonder why I said annoying?” 

“You love me,” you stated, as Peter sighed.

“No, but like cars. More so car rides,” he stopped himself, thinking of all the memories you have made in the car rides you had been on. “Like, I guess car rides with you are what I think of. Like how I pick you up and drop you every day. And all the stupid conversations we have, or watching you trying to put yourself together in the mornings when I pick you up. I think about the arguments we have gotten into, the tears that we shed, the terrible jokes you made, the movies we watched in the back of the car on your phone late at night,” a smile tugged at his lips as he thought: ‘It’s where I fell in love with you.’ He leaned his head back on the mattress of the bed. “I guess it’s just, our special thing.” 

You smiled to yourself at his answer, as you laid on your back staring at the ceiling. “That was a solid answer Parker,” you teased him. You slid down the bed, so that half of you was lying upside down and turned to face him. 

“Yeah well my real answer is just annoying,” he laughed before turning to face you. You both hadn’t realized how close you were to each other’s faces. Your nose was almost touching his as you stared into his soft brown eyes.

Neither of you moved. 

Just the sound of silence and your heartbeat going haywire.

“Do you want to know what comes to my mind when I think of you?” you asked smiling. “I think of how many times you’ve been there for me, showing up at midnight with your old sedan and your hair a mess. I think of how you always seem to be there no matter how pissed off I am at you or the world. I think of your cute face and how you always manage to make me smile. I think of how much I really love you Peter Parker. How your dorky face manages to be my entire world.”

Peter’s mind seemed to unravel as the words left your mouth. “You, love me?”

A light scoff seemed to escape your lips before you responded. “I do. Have been since sophomore year, but if you don’t feel the same, don’t feel obligated to answer. I know it’s really-“

His lips sealed over yours before another word could have been spoken. His hair tickled your eyes as you two got closer together, his hand placed on the back of your neck. The two of you parted, your eyes staring longingly into his. The two of you shared a pair of love sick smiles. 

“I guess that means you love me too?”

“You have no idea.”

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

Chasing His Heat

Characters: Loki x Reader

Chapter: 1 of 2

Rating: Explicit

Summary: After a failed mission strands you in the Siberian wilderness, you and Loki are forced to take extreme measures to fend off hypothermia.

Warnings: Language, making out, partial nudity, implied smut, Loki is an ass but not completely

Taglist: @just-the-hiddles

“I’m going to kill Thor the next time I see him,” you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest against the biting wind that cut through your clothing as if it didn’t even exist.

“Only after I am finished with him,” Loki snapped, trudging a path through the snow ahead of you. His long strides were a bit too wide for you to keep your steps within, but you did your best, although the effort was pointless after spending several minutes out in the dreadful weather. Your shoes, socks, and pants were completely soaked, adding to the chill seeping into your bones.

You put on a mediocre impression of Thor’s booming accented voice, shaking your head back and forth and rolling your eyes, “Loki can assist you with that mission! He is the God of Mischief, and you will require stealth to successfully enter the base undetected.”

You let out a shriek of frustration and kicked at the snow. It was a dumb gesture, and you knew it before you did it, but it didn’t stop you; it only ended up with you sprawled on your ass, snow surrounding you on all sides. It immediately wetted down the rest of your clothing that had somehow remained relatively dry despite the light snowfall. Not anymore.

You had the sudden and intense urge to just give up and throw a temper tantrum.

“Didn’t account for their anti-aircraft missiles shooting us out of the sky, did you, Lightning Man?” you snarled and shook a numb, trembling fist at the cloud-covered sky.

Loki turned around and lifted his brow in a smirk at your defeated prone figure. “I am not coming back to retrieve you. There is what appears to be an abandoned building up ahead. We can use that for shelter until Stark can send another jet for our retrieval.”

The promise of shelter from the elements spurs you on, and you scramble to your feet and book it towards the small wooden cottage standing against the washed-out gray horizon. Behind it a dense forest of evergreens, blocking out the mountains that dotted the Siberian wilderness. You could only hope there’s a bit of firewood somewhere around it, or you could very well get hypothermia before help arrived.

Loose floorboards creaked underneath your combined footsteps as you both rushed into the cabin and slammed the door behind you against the howling wind. Your eyes darted around the room hopefully in search of firewood, a blanket, anything to keep warm. You’re left wanting when the only thing to be found is a worn rug that had seen better days at least a decade ago.

“Got any space heaters up your magical sleeve that I don’t know about?” you asked bitterly as you rushed over to pull the thick shutters over the two front windows to stop the worst of the wind blowing into the tiny space. Even with the shutters drawn and windows closed, a draft still blew in through near-invisible cracks between the logs. There wasn’t anything you could do about that. You peered around, using the faint light filtering in through the gaps in the logs, in one last-ditch hope that a change of clothes, plush couch, firewood, and a hot bath would have suddenly appeared in the few seconds you back was turned.

No dice. Damnit.

“Unfortunately I do not, no. It is not an issue I worry too terribly about,” he replied with a dry chuckle, walking over to the nearest wall and sliding down until he was seated against it.

You mimicked his position on the opposite wall, pulling your knees to your chest and wrapping your arms around them as tightly as you could manage. You tucked your chin between your knees and chest and your blue-tinted mouth found a home against the sodden fabric of your thin light gray pants. You had dressed to blend in if you had the misfortune of getting spotted, either inside the Hydra base or outside, and the thin layers you wore did nothing to protect you from the elements even before you had been forced to abandon the downed Quinjet. Now that they were soaked through with snow, you shivered uncontrollably in as tight of a ball as you could manage.

“Lucky you, Asgardian. Just scrape me off of the floor when they get here,” you bit back, dropping your forehead onto your knees. Your breath barely warmed the small pocket you’d created between your thighs and chest, but it felt better than the frigid air of the cabin, so you closed your eyes and tried to focus on that small bit of comfort instead of the ache of your extremities from the lack of blood flow.

If only you’d gone on this mission with Nat, or Sam, or even Cap, they would know what to do. But you had no choice but to stick it out with Loki. He was unbothered by the cold, and most likely too far up his own ass to notice that you were freezing to the wall you huddled against.

A gasp of surprise left your chapped lips when a heavy arm settled over your hunched shoulders. You had been so fixated on the tremors wracking your body that you hadn’t noticed Loki’s heavy footfalls as he crossed the space to sit down beside you.

“Wh-what are you d-doing?” you asked, brow furrowed in concentration and indignation as you tried to get the words out around your chattering teeth. He radiated delicious heat that you long to curl into like a kitten but you held onto the last bit of dignity with your fingernails. You’d freeze to death before you accepted help from the asshole Asgardian who seemed to revel in nothing more than when he caused you endless amounts of frustration.

“I won’t be viewed favorably by our colleagues if I allow you to freeze to death. Hush and come here stubborn mortal,” he grumbled, velvet voice full to the brim with exasperation.

Your muscles seemed to have solidified in the short time you’d sat there, so you didn’t even try to uncurl when he lifted you like you weighed nothing and deposited you in the circle of his lap. Your jaw dropped to sputter against the forward action, but you instantly shut up at the blissful heat accompanying the actions of his arms wrapping the both of you in his green and black cape and pulling you into his chest.

A soft moan of pleasure rushed unbidden from your lips at his intoxicating warmth enveloping you, and you were powerless to resist the urge to bury your face into the hollow of his neck. The heady, masculine scent of spice and leather that perfumed to his skin and clothing washed over you, and you breathed it in greedily. His fingers tensed on your back briefly, but soon he relaxed and allowed his gloriously toasty touch to permeate your icy clothes.

“We tell no one about this,” you commanded quietly, words muffled against his racing pulse point.

A breathless laugh blew against your damp hair plastered to the crown of your head. “As if I would speak of it. No one would believe it if you deigned to inform anyone of your rescue by the dashing Asgardian Prince, so settle your nerves and be still.”

You bit back your retort to wrap your hands out from around your shins and up to cup his jawline, unfeeling fingers seeking the heat that you so desperately craved. In any other situation it would mortify you to act so boldly with the god, but it was just between the two of you, and he had started it. You were simply staving off hypothermia.

Well, you were trying. Despite the impressive heat his body gave off beneath his cape, it wasn’t enough to combat your water-logged clothes, and the tremor rattling your bones.

“You will not approve of this suggestion, but you will never warm properly while you remain in those clothes.” He patted his hand against your back to punctuate his statement, the wet slap of his palm loud in the almost unnatural quiet of the dimly lit cabin.

You closed your eyes and sighed drowsily. “Not happening.”

The answering shake of his head pulled your hands back and forth as they clung to his jaw. You stilled the abrupt movement by running your thumbs over the hollows of his cheeks. Subconsciously you continued the soothing movement. You couldn’t feel your fingers anyway, so what did it matter?

~~~

Loki’s hands shook your shoulders roughly, pulling you from the light doze that you had fallen into. It was so hard to open your eyes, but you forced yourself to when he called your name and cupped the sides of your neck so his thumbs propped your head up by your jaw.

He looked worried. His shining emerald eyes narrowed with concern and he cursed quietly under his breath. Your forehead fell onto his shoulder when he adjusted you on top of him so that your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms were wedged between you so your hands splayed across his broad, bare chest.

He was so warm. You could really feel it with your chests pressed together as they were. Your heels dug into his lower back and you tightened your fingers into his pectoral muscles to leech as much of his body heat as he had to give.

“Such a fragile little thing,” he murmured. The quiet words brushed his lips against the frosty shell of your ear and sent another wave of heat through you, but this time it went straight to the faint stirrings at the pit of your stomach.

Slowly, you came back to your senses as painful pins and needles pricked at your hands and feet. You groaned - more unhappily than pained - at the unpleasant sensation and lifted your head so you could visually inspect the offending body parts.

In the shadows of Loki’s cape, though, all you got was an eyeful of the half-naked god beneath you. Your wide eyes shot down to take in your own lack of clothing, and you were at least slightly relieved to see that you’re both still wearing underwear.

But that doesn’t explain where your clothing and your bra went. How had you not felt that happening?

Damn wizard.

“Loki, where the fuck are my clothes?” you exclaimed, crossing your arms over your bare chest and leaning away from him.

His hands remained firmly rooted to your back, not allowing you to gain more than a few inches of distance between your underdressed bodies. “You were succumbing to hypothermia. I made the decision to save your life at the risk of upsetting your delicate sensibilities about partial nudity,” he stated matter-of-factly with a shrug of his shoulders, having the gall to look bored with the entire conversation.

Your head shook side to side erratically. “Well, that’s not. I mean, you-”

He cut off your sputtering with a sharp shake of his head, raising one brow while he looked at you expectantly. “-I saved your life. You’re welcome.”

You shifted on his lap, and the innocent motion rubbed across the beginnings of his arousal, restrained by almost indecently thin underwear. The warmth that flooded out from between your legs had nothing to do with the toasty bubble created from your bodies beneath Loki’s cape, and everything to do with the lust shining in his eyes mere inches from your own.

This close, you took a moment to actually look at the god pinned beneath you, at the regal line of his nose, the jawline so sharp it could cut glass, brows furrowed together and tilted slightly downward, and green eyes with pupils blown, darkening them and adding a hint of danger to his expression that sent a jolt of electricity to your core and made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

Your hand tentatively flattened itself onto his chest just beneath his collar bones. A muscle in his jaw fluttered at the chill of your firm touch. Curiosity drove you, and you leaned forward, eyes focused on his lips that parted when you stopped your advance so close that you heard his breath hitch in his throat when your thumb caressed the pulse fluttering beneath the closure of his cape.

Sating your sudden intense need to know what the god tasted like, you tilted your head and brushed your lips across his experimentally.

His lips were softer than you expected. His large hands found the dips of your waist and anchored there, not pulling you in or pushing you away, just holding you. You pulled back just enough so that the tip of your nose nudged the length of his, searching his eyes for his reaction. His face was guarded, revealing nothing, but the growing hardness trapped between your bodies said everything his face did not. It cast a spell over you, ridding you of logical thought, removing your intense dislike of him, and you dipped your head to kiss him more thoroughly.

He tasted of the coffee he had on the jet, bitter and sweet, when your tongue darted out to trace his bottom lip. His answering groan rumbled out of him and settled low in your stomach, tightening the muscles there pleasantly. He finally returned the kiss with equal fervor, melding his lips expertly against yours in a languid, teasing dance that did a much more complete job of easing the chill from your bones than a fire would have, and at a faster rate to boot.

Fire blazed in the wake of his caressing fingers as they skimmed from your waist to smooth over your underwear, taking as much of your backside into his hands as he could and grinding you down onto him eagerly. Your tongues tangled together, fighting for dominance in a frenzied battle that you both simultaneously won and lost. Each generous squeeze of his hands into your pliant flesh and stroke of his tongue stole more of your breath.

You were both panting when you finally broke the kiss to press your foreheads together. His eyes were glazed over, heavy-lidded, and his hips bucked into you when you let your fingernails barely scratch along the flexed muscles of his torso to come to a halt just above the hem of his underwear.

“This is a terrible idea,” he whispered hoarsely even as his lips pulled back into a mischievous smile.

“Wouldn’t want me to get hypothermia, would we?” you breathed with a matching grin.

[empressofnothing]

A Wraith's Work

This is something I wrote for a contest. It is the final draft but if any one you have constructive criticism I'd be happy to hear it! I guess a trigger warning can apply as there is a semi violent scene so take caution! Hope you all enjoy! -- According to Millie, fall in Virginia was the most whimsical time and place in the world. She believed in the impossible, and if you asked the young woman, in what season would the impossible be made possible, she would say autumn. She knew the impossible could be made possible with a dream and maybe some pliers. She just wasn’t expecting the impossible to find her that day. She breathed in air that smelled of dreams and decaying leaves. An array of red, yellow, and brown made nonsensical paintings on the ground. She stepped on the leaves, feeling a childish satisfaction when the plants gave way in a song of crinkles under her feet. She grinned, ready to run like the wind when she tripped on her untied shoelaces. She toppled to the dirt. “Aw, man!” she growled. It was difficult to tie her shoes alone. She tucked the unraveling shoelaces into the sides of the shoe. She was rising to her feet, knees on the ground and her hand in the dirt, when she saw the hound. Her body reacted to the horrifyingly familiar sight in a split second. Her chest constricted. Her heart pumped so fast she felt it was ready to burst forth from her flesh. In her mind, she heard malign growls ripping from a muscular black and brown chest and saw disgusting strands of saliva dripping from a wicked maw. While her mind was muddled with the violent memory, she could not tear her eyes off the hulking black dog. It was larger than any dog she’d ever seen—bigger even than the taxidermied wolves she’d seen. Its long legs rippled with muscles. The black fur was horribly matted and long. She kept still, praying to God that the hound would move on without seeing her. God was not with her on this day. The hound, agonizingly slow, turned its head. Millie sucked in a painful breath when she was met with its face. The hound’s eyes were red. They weren’t bright, they didn’t glow—they were the color of drying blood. Her mind cried out. Demon, it said. Run. She gained control of her body and scrambled back, scraping the skin on her hand to the point where she felt blood. The dog began to take steps toward her, watching her with his impossible eyes. Her back hit a tree stump. She opened her mouth in a soundless plea and shut her eyes. She felt the hound draw close—so close she could smell its breath; breath that smelled of rot and nightmares. Millie shielded her face with a trembling hand and waited. “You’re not supposed to be here.” • Millie burst into the garage, almost stumbling over one of her Dad’s model airplanes. She slammed the button and the garage door began to close. She stood there, regretting her decision to skip school for the first time in her life in order to hike and enjoy the day---escape the world she hated. But it had all gone wrong. She glanced at the clock. It was 4:15. Under it was a calendar for 1991. Her Dad hadn’t gotten one for the New Year yet, even with it being October already. She walked into the house, hoping her father wasn’t home. The smell of chili wafted from the kitchen. He was home. Thoughts of the hound buried but not forgotten, she tried to sneak past the kitchen. “Millicent?” Her father appeared from the kitchen doorway. He was an older man, shown by his whitening beard. His hands, large, black, and weathered, carried a bowl. An apron was tied around his bulky middle. He was a muscular man, but Millie knew he was a fragile soul. Loud sounds made him dizzy and harsh words made him sullen. Her father, gentle giant that he was, cried over worship music and gleefully played with the toddlers at the daycare he worked at. Millie knew his rage was nothing to fear as it was nonexistent. But she knew he loved her more than anything, and his worry was hard to look at. “Your school called,” he began. “They said you weren’t counted present for the eighth hour.” “Yeah…I, uh, went to the woods.” “Why would you do that?” He paused, looking grave. “You aren’t doing anything… bad--are you?” He seemed to struggle for words. “No! Of course not Dad!” “Good. I know no one here would hurt you, but you’ve never done this.” “And I won’t do it again. Skipping school wasn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Kind of boring,” she said, thinking of the hound’s red eyes. “Good, good. Would you like some dinner?” he offered, stretching out the bowl towards her, childish hope on his face. “Sure Dad.” • The hound did not appear again until two nights later. Millie had been punished by the school for ditching, but it was held in the library, where Millie searched for answers. All she found was a Sherlock Holmes story. Stereotypically---like out of a horror film---the night was foggy to the point of blindness. Millie was dressed in her pajamas, and was finishing up feeding her tarantula, a gargantuan creature by the name of “Big Joe.” She liked creepy crawly things. Maybe they could bite her, poison her, but they couldn’t maul her arm to the point of necessary amputation. Millie didn’t like dogs. They were big, loud, smelly, and some were mean. She had a dog once, a little beagle named Toby, but he was long gone. Nor was he there to protect her when the rabid Rottweiler latched his teeth into the flesh of her arm. Race car posters covered the walls of her room, and she was headed to reposition one of a blue Formula One when she heard it—the howl. She scrambled out of bed. Out the window, nothing could be seen but gray, and the black of the moonless sky. She didn’t know what compelled her to force open the window and climb out. She just did. She also didn’t know why she ended up behind the graveyard. If wasn’t so deep in her trance, she would have scoffed at how typical the night was turning out. There was more to this graveyard however. It was not what it seemed from the outside. In front, was the regular cemetery where those recently passed were buried. Behind, was a burial ground of the past. And not just a burial ground, an execution sight. Slaves who were unlucky enough to be caught in escape attempts were hung at this location and buried without markers or a funeral or any thought to the fate of their poor souls. She’d never been here. Her father had. A descendant of slaves, he believed it was important to know their people’s history and honor them. The fog was thick, almost blinding her to the tall trees around her, but not to those red eyes. “You,” she stammered. The hound watched her. They stood there, staring at the other for what seemed an eternity, before Millie felt she had the wits to speak once more. “Who are you?” she asked. The hound answered. “I’ve been called many things. Pestilence. War. Famine. Death. I’ve been called the Devil himself.” “Are you? The Devil, I mean.” “I could be, girl.” “My name is Millie.” “Your name is Millicent Abigail Green. You wish to race cars, and believe you someday will, despite your missing arm.” She grabbed the end of her right arm bashfully. “How do you know that?” “I know everything about everyone. And you were not supposed to see me in the woods.” “I…” “You are not marked. I do not understand why you saw me. And I, girl, understand everything.” For the first time, the dog’s voice betrayed a hint of emotion. Confused, and bordering on angered. Millie stood enraptured, fear flowing like blood throughout her body. “You’re not supposed to die,” the hound went on. “What?” she exclaimed. The hound slumped its shoulders and let out a faint breath that billowed white in the freezing air. When he spoke again, he sounded irritated. “I am here to claim a soul. You are not that soul.” Millie could not speak. “And I have no idea of what to do with you. I suppose I could leave you be, to wonder whether you have gone insane, no one believing your story—you scarcely believing it yourself.” He suddenly fell silent. “Then what will you do?” she asked. “I am bound by divine law to never harm a soul that is not marked for violent death.” “You’re a demon…” Millie whispered. “You could be right, you could be wrong. I could be a demon as well as I could be an angel.” “Well, what are you? I mean, what do you think you are?” The hound’s eyes flashed with something unintelligible. “I am everything, but I am nothing.” The hound, furrowing its brow as if confused at its own declare, turned and bounded into the woods, leaving Millie alone with the ghosts of violent histories and the encompassing fog. • Two days later, Millie sat on a colorful rug at the Rose Petal Daycare, watching her father play with a toddler girl. She was sketching in her notebook, a book filled with cars and spiders, a grim portrait of a black dog. “You be the mommy and I’ll be the daddy!” she heard the baby girl cry. “But I am a daddy,” her father said, laughing. “Well then, Ms. Madison can be the mommy!” Her father froze. “Sara…Ms. Madison left, remember?” he got out. “Oh...ok,” the girl said, faltering. Millie closed her sketchbook and walked to the bathroom, ignoring her father’s cry for her. She splashed water from the sink on her face and sucked in a heavy breath. Once she looked up, deep red eyes were staring at her. She screamed for a split second before throwing her hand over her mouth. The dog was closer to her than ever before and it took its toll on Millie, flashbacks to the rabid animal that took her arm running through her mind. “Your mother left you,” the hound said. Millie replied, trying not to sound pained, “Yes, she did. A year ago.” “Do you know why?” “No. Guess she got tired of us.” “I know. Would you like to?” “No.” “She seemed kind. She loved you, until she didn’t,” the hound observed, sounding confused. Millie asked why he sounded that way. “I understand the physical circumstance. I will never grasp fickle human emotions.” “And you never told me who was going to die,” Millie realized out loud. The dog sat back against the brick wall. “I cannot tell you. It is unnatural.” “Unnatural how?” “A human knowing the future can only bring about turmoil in your world.” “My world? Where are you from?” The hound answered. “Heaven. Hell. Purgatory, perhaps.” The hound’s face showed no emotion. He almost looked like a normal hound in that moment, despite his size and girth. He suddenly stood and began to walk towards her. Millie jerked and jumped back, slipping on water on the floor. She fell back and curled down on the floor, tears pricking at her eyes and her lips curling. The hound closed in and Millie buried her face in her knees. “I am sorry.” When she summoned the bravery to open her eyes, the hound was gone. • 1979 was the worst year of Millie’s life. Toby had been a good dog. When he was hit, Millie had been watching. She recalled the screech of the tires, a sudden agonized yelp, and most of all, her mother’s arms wrapping around her. They buried the poor mangled animal on her grandparent’s property. Though her memories of the happy little dog were fading, Millie still visited the grave from time to time. It was only two months later that the rabid dog took her arm. Though her father claimed responsibility, she knew that it was her fault. She shouldn’t have left Grandma and Grandpa’s house. She had wanted to go home; she was tired and bored. When she saw the dog, she was ecstatic (memories of Toby were still fresh then) and approached him. Her young naïve mind did not take heed of the feral look in his eyes. She went to pet him and the dog opened its dripping mouth and sunk its teeth into the lower part of her right arm and thrashed its head from side to side, ripping open her flesh. She screamed. She cried. Her anguished sounds were what alerted her father. She did not remember much after that, but she knew that somehow, someway, the dog had let go and her father had shot it. Her flesh was mangled and torn and she was losing blood in copious amounts. As she sank into unconsciousness in her grandfather’s arms, who had picked her up and was rushing her to his truck, she caught sight of red eyes in the trees. The doctors had apparently decided that the best course of action was to remove the mauled arm. Her wound was mostly near her wrist and the doctors took her right hand and a little bit of her arm. It would have been useless anyway, with its dead nerves and ripped tendons. Since that day, her heart leapt in terror at a lone bark, the hint of a sharp tooth, or even her neighbors walking their yellow lab puppy. She hated dogs. • Four days later, she asked her father why her mother had left. Madison Green had been kind, beautiful, and intelligent. When she left in the middle of the night, it had shocked the small community. Her father had chased after the car, yelling for her. Since that night, Jerome Green had been more vulnerable then he ever was before. “I don’t know, baby…it’s not worth thinking about. I don’t want you thinking about it, okay?” She had said yes, still thinking about it, and her father bid her goodbye and kissed her forehead, explaining that he had to grab milk from the corner store and that he would be back within twenty minutes. It had been a normal night enough. She watched television, fed Big Joe, and ate popcorn, hiding the evidence of her snack in the bottom of the trash can. She didn’t think much of the doorbell ringing. When she opened it, Officer David stood there. Upon hearing his words, Millie screamed. • The day of her father’s funeral came swiftly. Her grandparents hovered around her, as if they were terrified she would be taken from them the way their son had. It had been a robbery. Her father had tried to console the desperate man, only to be met with death. It was a horrible service. The music was too sad, the air was too cold, and the people were too sympathetic. And it lacked the presence of her mother, who hadn’t been found, despite the town’s attempts to find her and tell her that her husband had been murdered. After, Millie wandered into the forest, and sat down on the mulch. Twigs snapped and somebody sat next to her. She turned, and saw the hound’s dull red eyes. “You,” she said. “Millicent.” She and the dog stared at each other. “Why’d you have to do this?” Millie whispered. “It is my work.” Millie was silent, until she asked him the question she asked her father. “What happened to my mother?” The hound sighed. “Madison Green was contacted by an old lover, one from her school days. She was tired of her mundane life and went to him at his insistence. They are currently expecting their first child.” Millie pursed her lips and looked at the ground. “I thought she loved me,” she said quietly. “She does…but she does not.” Millie let out a nearly silent sob and then let herself go. She cried, she screamed, and she beat the ground with her fist. Sometime during this, the hound had moved closer, and when she came to, she was nuzzled into his muscular shoulder. “I think I know what you are,” she said to the hound. “And what do you think I am?” he asked softly. “You’re a wraith,” she told him. He was quiet. “I wish I was not.” Millie asked him another question which she knew the answer to. “I’m never going to be a racer, am I?” “No.” Millie rubbed her dripping nose on her black dress. “I think I’ve known that.” “But you will be something else, Millicent.” “What?” “I can’t tell you.” “Racing cars was my dream. I don’t know what I’ll do.” “Just because your dream is impossible, doesn’t mean you stop dreaming altogether,” the hound said quietly. Millie looked at him. He was looking at her with a strange look in his eyes. Wind blew through the trees. The cold burned her chapped nose and lips. Looking around, she realized they were at the slave graveyard, where they had their first conversation. “Do you have a name?” she asked him, as they sat on the graves of the dishonored men and women whose names were unremembered. “I was never given one.” Millie, her hands still wrapped in his fur, said, “How about Toby?” “You wish to name me after your annoying insect of a dog?” “Yes,” Millie answered without a second to spare. “I suppose if you wish,” Toby said, a glint of true happiness flashing through his face before he smothered it. “It is not a name fit for a wraith---for a monster.” Millie smiled. “I’ve always been fond of monsters.” She swore till the day she died that the hound smiled at this "I think I saw you. On the day I was mauled.” "I was there,” Toby confirmed. “You nearly died. I have…watched you since, though I never thought you would see me.” "Maybe God wanted me to see you.” "God. The gods. Perhaps the devil.” Millie laughed. His riddles bothered her no more. “Well, whoever’s out there wanted this,” she said to him. "I do not know who is out there,” he confessed. “But whoever they are, they are in possession of a nonsensical mind.” "Obviously, did you know that the light hitting us right now is thousands of years old? I mean, who even thinks of that?" They both looked up at the canopy of trees, where light was beginning to shine through the bare branches down onto their graveyard. "It does not make sense,” Toby said. "Maybe it’s not supposed to.” THE END -- This is a much more convoluted story than the word limit allowed, honestly. I wasn't given enough haha. In the end, I was trying to convey that the graveyard turned from a place of turmoil and grief to a place of happiness for Millie and the hound. I wasn't able to do all that I wanted to do in this, like delving into Madison's and Jerome's characters and relationships, and Millie's phobia of dogs, and the hound's character in general. The hound and Millie have a deeper relationship than what I was able to convey in this. And the town itself is a lot more supernatural in my head than in this. So this is just the bones of the story. It'll be a lot deeper if I revisit it someday. Thanks for reading!