#she always covers me when i miss work and its usually bad but shes supposed to be moving into helping me with my job soon

[starspirals]

mmm my coworker who filled in my job while i was on vacation really fucked me overr

[sasuhinasno1fan]

Wish come true - Adrien AUGreste Day 7+8

So I'll be honest, I was a little hesitant with this chapter. It mainly came about because I wanted there to be a chance for them to take the Peacock, if to make things harder for Hawkmoth, as well as cover some events - because I totally forgot the Hero Day episodes happen at the end of s2. Side note, my time line is going to be all over the place. A lot of people during the Volpine episode pointed out that Plagg should of recognized the Peacock and the Grimoire but I believe Plagg is smart, he just does it in different ways. But when you mess with his kitten, that's when his smarts come out. Not to mention, Fu never gave Adrien the same respect he did Marinette because of some assumption that Plagg was bad. And that had to of pissed Plagg off, especially seeing how he was ready to just give up because he wasn't being respected. It's always my favourite thing in rewrite fics where the Ladybug - be it Marinette or a new holder - won't stand for their cat being pushed to the side. I was also worried about how easy things worked and how the kwami's worked to get what they wanted, so let me know what you think. 

Plagg

“It’s so stupid!” Adrien complained, dropping himself onto Luka’s bed. “How on earth could she think this is a good idea, put all that information about Miraculous and its connections to some secret society, not to mention how it could be connected to that missing Tibetan temple? It’s like she didn’t even think about Hawkmoth being able to see this stuff. Thank god we stopped her from posting about it. Alya is at risk of getting banned from a phone if she can’t control her urge to post everything she hears about Scarlet Bug and Catseye. How did she think she’d be helping to unmask Hawmoth if she’s handing him information?”

He looked over to Luka, who was plucking strings on his guitar, with large headphones over his ear. Noticing he was being stared at, he looked up, surprised to see Adrien.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, pushing his headphones off, the faint music of Jagged Stone spilling from it.

“I’ve been here for 5 minutes.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Luka apologised with a guilty look.

“It’s fine. I needed to vent. I kinda didn’t realise you had headphones on anyway.”

“Still, I should make it up to you. you sound upset.”

“Just Alya jumping into doing something without thinking again. I got it solved, so it’s fine. though,” Adrien shuffled closer, leaning in, “if you really want to make it up, I could think of something.”

Catching onto what Adrien meant, Luka put his guitar down and took his headphones off. “Oh? What did you have in mind?”

“I could go for a kiss.” Since the two finally had the chance to have their first kiss – and Adrien realised that kissing a person with snake bites was just as fun as a person with a tongue piercing – Adrien usually looked for any excuse to kiss Luka, who was more than happy to allow it.

“Well, I think that’s a fair trade for what I did.” He pressed a quick peck onto Adrien’s lips, smiling when Adrien pouted at him.

“I think I deserve more than that.”

“I suppose I could be convinced.”

Adrien took no time, dragging him in by the lapels of his jacket. He tilted his head, threading a hand into the blonde hair, sure he was messing up the pins he had in them. he felt Adrien’s lips tick up into a smile when his other hand found a place on his waist

“Whoops!” Rose said loudly, causing the two to pull apart. They watched her push Luka’s sister back out and towards the door. “That room is occupied.”

“Hey,” Adrien said, using a finger to pull Luka’s face down to stare at him, “I wasn’t done getting my apology.”

“How dare I. let me make it up to you.”

While both siblings were busy with the significant other, they didn’t notice their kwami’s whispering in the corner.

“You heard him, right? It’s Feast!” Plagg said. “We need to do something.”

“Well, it’s different than last time. Alya’s video wasn’t posted.”

“Yeah, but he was still at the unveiling with Nathalie. I realise now she must have figured it out as the peacock holder but she still had to of seen the marking on its forehead.”

“Yes, but she might not be able to do anything about it. the last Hero Day pushed her into putting it on, because even with Lila’s help, he was losing. He didn’t have Lila this time and he ran off when Luka and Juleka were able to stop all the Scarlet Akumas from even affecting people.”

Tikki was right. Last Hero Day went the way it did because of Lila. For some reason, this time, Lila hadn’t ever been akumatized. There was no incident to allow the Scarlet Akumas to take the control they did. Seeing Scarlet Bug and Catseye going around, capturing them and saving others from being caught by the reminded the city that they had to believe in their heroes. He still came out, attempting to use his power he gained to get the upper hand but with the help of Rena Rouge, Caprise and Queen Bee, they had him on the ropes before he disappeared. No Sentimonster appeared to help him get away, no Sentimonster had appeared at all with any other Akumatization. The Peacock was never used.

“But it might be this time. If it is, Fu is gonna run again and before you know it, it’ll be forcing a child to take the role of Guardian. Our kids were brave then, still jumping in without their Miraculous and I have no doubt these kids will do the same, but they’re smart this time. They’re not giving in as easy to following Fu’s rule. Are you really going to tell me you wish they didn’t do the same back then?” Plagg asked.

He knew she did, that Marinette opened up and asked Chat Noir for support instead of shouldering everything by herself. That she didn’t push him away so much. Plagg had told her what Adrien was going to do during Syren. He could have done it, he should of. Maybe it would have kept the ring away from Lila if someone else had it.

“You know, more than anything, that I selfishly want something to go wrong to where Ladybird and Blacky have to switch the holders, so I can get Adrien back. But I don’t want it at the risk of him losing his happiness. Right now, he’s kissing the daylights out of Ladybird and he couldn’t be happier. He has parents who love him, a life that he has control over. I want him back, but I also want him this happy.” Plagg confessed.

“I know. Trust me, I know.” Tikki said. “I want Marinette back too but her life is so less stressful without me there. She’s happier. Even if it’s without Adrien’s love.”

Plagg let out a scoffing laugh. “Honestly, I think at that time, those two wouldn’t have worked. They still put each other on pedestals. I wondered if Adrien would ever be in a really happy relationship, since Kagami wasn’t going anywhere much. I mean, they didn’t get farther than kisses on the cheek. It’s different with Luka.”

Tikki giggled. “Marinette almost got there with him, but her feelings were too strong for Adrien. Your right, maybe after time and growing, trying to see the other like how Chat Noir and Marinette saw each other, it could have worked, but maybe not. I guess we’ll never know.”

“As happy as we were with them as our holders then, they’re happier now without us. Even if eventually, we land back with them, that’s not going to happen for a while. But to keep it from happening sooner, we can’t let Gabriel figure out Fu now and he will if Feast is released.”

“So, what do we do? If the same thing happened as last time, they’d go after it tonight and Fu would take us back then.”

Plagg thought. He hadn’t heard much since he was with Juleka but he had her taking a call from Alix. She told her about what Alya had discovered about the different heroes throughout time and the mark of the Guardians they all wore. She’d been going on about how Adrien read Alya the riot act about posting sensitive information where Hawkmoth could see it, stopping her from actually posting her video explaining her findings.

“We might have the advantage. Trixx’s kit never posted the video this time, Adrien stopped her.”

“That’s right! So, Gabriel wouldn’t see it. and if Nathalie didn’t use the Peacock, if she still hasn’t, she wouldn’t sense the amok. But they have the Grimoire, the mark of the Guardians is on it, what if they realise it’s the same?”

Plagg thought harder. There was still so much he didn’t know about Gabriel and how he came to be in possession of the items. If their final battle had involved him and not Lila, maybe he’d know more, but for right now, he was going off what he learned about Adrien’s father.

“He could, but he’s smart. Without knowing about Feast as a Sentimonster, he’s not going to risk going after it. he’ll want to do research, maybe he’ll find out about the missing temple and that’ll get him curious but we don’t know. What I do know is this, we gotta tell the kids about this. and…we got to get the Peacock.”

“How? We can’t fix it without the Grimoire and we can’t read it. plus, how do we know Lila will let Juleka inside?”

“We get Fu to read it, once the kids threaten him. Oh, come on sugar cube,” Plagg said, seeing the scandalized look she got, “they already don’t trust him. If anything, this will get him to ease up. He’s still stalling in keeping Blacky in the loop. I won’t allow him to make another Adrien out of her.”

“You seem to have a plan already. so, what do we do? Tell them to keep an eye at the Louvre and wait for Juleka to go in for a meeting?”

Plagg shook his head, “No, modelling is dealt with through Nathalie. He might give the orders, but Gabriel leaves all that to her. She’s just direct Juleka to location. No, we need something else to get inside. And honestly, Lila might be the thing to do just that.”

“Lila? How?”

“Well, I know you said she wouldn’t let anyone near the house, but let’s be honest, he has to be wanting something to better her standing with her classes and everyone. Maybe such as a Student UN?”

The scandalized look got even bigger. “You want to send Adrien?”

                                         _____________________

“Please tell me you’re joking.” Adrien begged, staring at Mme. Bustier and M. Monlataing, who gave him both pitying looks. “Lila Agreste is participating in Model UN? She hasn’t been to school in two weeks.”

Mme, Bustier handed him a printed email. “Headmaster Damocles sent this to me. Apparently, Mlle. Sancoeur called and asked for her to be included. He agreed and is asking she be brought up to speed.”

“Who am I supposed to pair her with?” Adrien asked, still trying to wrap his head around Lila of all people, being involved in this. Lila? The same girl who yelled and snapped at him for no reason? Same one who seemed to have a mental breakdown the last time he really saw her? He knew her dad was something and no doubt wanted her to better her image, but there was no way this wouldn’t end badly.

“leave that part to us,” M. Monlataing said. “We just need you to go drop off the paperwork for her.”

He gave the art teacher Marc had become close with a look that asked if he was well. “I can’t stand her. You want me to go over to her house and give this to her?”

“Adrien, all you need to do is just pass the paperwork to Mlle. Sancoeur. She’ll get it to Lila and the only other time you’ll have to deal with her is during the Student UN. Besides, even then it’ll be minimal with all the other students and visiting students.”

Adrien threw his head back and groaned. He didn’t want to do this! he didn’t want to deal with her. There was the spoiled rich girls he’d dealt with his whole life and then there was her.

“fine.”

He took the papers and left, the teachers thankfully letting him leave. If they had anything else to say, they were smart enough to let him cool off first. Nino was waiting outside the classroom, blowing bubbles as he leaned on the railing as Adrien stormed past him.

“Can’t believe this. they couldn’t send someone else or just email them to her? What did I do to be punished like this?”

“Do you want me to come with you?” the DJ called as Adrien stomped down the stairs.

“Yes! If anything, to make sure you call my mom if I’m in there too long and the police start to show up.”

Nino thankfully was quite, letting Adrien vent as they made their way to the Agreste mansion, unaware Adrien had a hitchhiker. Plagg hid inside Adrien’s bag, being sent back to when he hide inside during school hours, before he started sneaking out and getting himself and Tikki into trouble. He’d learnt his lesson and hadn’t caused a Kwamibuster, though he was sure it would still come with the science teacher’s still present theory she kept with. He listened to Adrien curse, slipping into Italian as he did and thought about the few times Adrien would get angry enough to slip into other languages. Chinese, Japanese, English. He knew more languages now that he wasn’t forced to learn them, but Italian was the one that cropped up the most. It made him happy to see Adrien exhibit more anger, to really let lose. He knew it was a risk, making Adrien go to the Mansion that had once been his prison with Lila there, but he needed an in. it felt slightly like he was using him, but he also felt confident Adrien would be ok. He wasn’t like before, willing to back down for someone else’s happiness unless threatened. He was much stronger now. He wondered if Adrien had been like this back then, if he could have escaped earlier, set out on his own, away from his father and everyone who wanted something from him and really live. It probably would have been harder, but it’d be so worth it. more than anything, he wished he could have made Adrien that happy. He just had to hope that back then, even when he messed up, that he made Adrien happy. Thinking of the thankful smile Adrien had given him back then when they played the piano, he thought it was possible.

“Mio dio, I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Adrien complained as they arrived in front of the opposing gates.

“Dude, just ring the doorbell, explain you’re here to drop off paperwork and I’m sure this shoot will open and we can be on our way. Marinette’s helping Alya with more hero research and I want to go check out this new DJ set up at the music store. I’ll buy you so many cannolis after you do this.” Nino bribed, throwing an arm over his shoulder.

“It’s cannolo, and fine. let’s get this over with.”

Inside, Gabriel sat at his desk, staring at his computer screen, his fingers pressed together. Nathalie had taken a picture of the statue that had been unveiled the day before and just as she’d pointed out, it matched the mark on the book. The book held so much about the Miraculous, but it was all coded and throughout the years he hadn’t gotten close to figuring it out. All he knew was that the mark was the mark of the Guardians, the one who protected the Miraculous. But any trace of them vanished 200 years ago so any research was sketchy and unclear. Nooroo was no help, unknowing of the language it was written in. the statue had to be important though. If only he could figure out why.

“Sir,” Nathalie started, standing in her usual spot on the other side of his desk, “we could investigate it closer. Either through a private tour or even late at night.”

“Hawkmoth seen sneaking around the Louvre? Nathalie, I’d be arrested in seconds, or at least attacked by those two do-gooders.”

“Not Hawkmoth.”

“No!” this was a conversation that had been had multiple times since Hero Day, when he’d nearly been beaten by that superhero team. He had Nathalie, but her power boost could only do so much. He’d managed to disappear before they really defeated them only to find that Nathalie had taken the Peacock Miraculous ready to use it. “The Miraculous is broken, has been since Emile got it. I watched my wife get weaker and weaker with each use, getting dizzy until she was placed in the chamber below. You really think I’d let you put yourself at risk like that?”

“But sir!”

“Lady Nathalie?” Nooroo poked out from behind Gabriel’s chair. “I know you want to help but you have to listen. You could die if you use it too much. Duusu couldn’t stop it from hurting Lady Emile. Master can’t bring you both back if something were to happen. You’re a better help fully functioning and able to be akumatized. What would happen if you got a spell during then and Master had to pull back, even if he was right there?”

“He wouldn’t-”

Gabriel stood up, sending the chair back slightly. “Do you really think I wouldn’t? that I’d choose your health over anything else? Emile is the way she is because of the Miraculous. I won’t have it do that to someone else I care for. And if Nooroo is right, it will be worse and faster acting. You’re a better help to me healthy and in control.”

Nooroo took in Nathalie’s faintly red face as she looked down. he felt bad playing them like this, but with what he knew, he knew he could change things. His friends couldn’t save him and it led to Lila winning. This time, he had to try and save himself. He understood his master’s wish, but he also remembered what his Lady wanted and if he wanted to keep his promise from all those years ago, he needed to fix the game in his favour. Hawkmoth needed to be stopped from gaining more power.

“Of course, sir. I apologise for thinking such a thing.”

Gabriel cleared his throat, his neck turning slightly red himself as he pulled his chair in and sat down. “Yes, well. you have a point though. I can’t leave the house however, to many people will gawk. It would be better to akumatize you and send you in. perhaps I can do like I did with Vanisher to keep you invisible, but we’ll need a way to have your phone with you without it becoming national news of a floating phone.”

Before anything else could be discussed, the doorbell rang. Both pulled up the video feed from the front gate, sharing surprised looks at the person standing in front of the camera. What was Adrien Rossi doing there?

Opening the camera, Nathalie opened the mic on her iPad. “Yes? What is it?”

“Hi. I’m Adrien Rossi. I’m in class with Lila?”

“We know who you are Mr. Rossi. Why are you here now?”

“Right. Um, Mme. Bustier got your email about Lila joining the Model UN, so I’m just here to drop off the paperwork.” He explained, lifting a small stack of paper.

They shared looks again. Lila joining Model UN? An email sent to state that?

“Sir?” she asked, muting the mic.

“I leave all school things to you. this is the first I’m hearing about this.”

Unmuting the mic, Nathalie asked, “We have no record of this.”

“Uh? Are you sure? I have a copy of the email the headmaster sent her.”

They watched the feed as the young teen dug around his bag and pulled out another sheet of paper, holding it up to the camera. Nathalie examined it, zooming into the parts that listed the emails.

“That is the headmaster’s email. Could it be possible it was hacked?”

“To send my daughter to Model UN?” Gabriel asked sarcastically. They both knew it sounded like a long shot. “Have him come in. she needs to go back to school and better her standing. Perhaps this will help.”

Nodding, she unmuted the mic again. “Please come in so we can discuss this. just you.” she said, seeing the other person behind him. Nino Lahiffe, he DJed the show Style Queen had attacked.

“Oh, no. I was just dropping this off.” He seemed distressed at the idea of coming inside.

“I’m afraid I must insist.”

They watched his head tip back, the mic just picking up his groaning. Clearly, he didn’t want to come inside. They couldn’t hear what Nino had said to him as he stood back far enough but eventually, the blonde turned to the camera again and agreed. She had Gorilla lead him into the atelier. The two took him in, his muscle shirt almost exposing him had it not been for the crop top he wore underneath it, the flannel wrapped around his waist. His wrists were covered in many bracelets, many handmade and his scuffed sneakers squeaked slightly as he shifted his weight. His bag rattled with bells, most hanging from the many pins on display.

“Mr. Rossi, a pleasure to meet you in person.” Gabriel said, walking out from his desk to stand in front of him.

Looking at the two and glancing at the picture that hung up, Nathalie could almost believe they were father and son. While the boy shared similarities in looks with Emile, there was something about the way the two stood that screamed something. But she knew that wasn’t possible. Lila was their only child, gaining the red-haired gene through her father’s side and her green eyes from her mother, though her tanned skin didn’t fit fully. it had confused the couple not long after she was born that they even did a paternity test just to be sure they didn’t receive the wrong child, but she was 100% biologically theirs.

“So, what’s this about a Model UN my daughter is in?”

Adrien handed the email over. “I was just told after class that the headmaster was told by your assistant that you wanted Lila to join. I’ll be frank and tell you it’s a horrible idea because no one wants to work with her.”

“I seem to remember you not getting along with my daughter.” He said, taking the email.

A blonde eyebrow lifted, “She insulted my mother and I on my first day with no explanation. Trust me, we aren’t becoming friends anytime soon.”

He had guts, Nathalie will give him that.

“So, how is it you came to be the one to deliver this news if you don’t get along?”

“I’m heading the Student UN, so I was given the task. I was just told to give it to your secretary.”

“Except this is the first we’re hearing of this. Nathalie hasn’t heard anything about this, especially since she hasn’t been to school recently.”

Adrien also handed him the stack he’d been holding before, crossing his arms and rocking on his feet. He didn’t say much, but Gabriel got the point. Such rudeness would usually gain a reaction from him and it would be so easy to akumatize the teen in front of him but he knew his current mood stemmed from his daughter, still locked in her room upstairs. Since she’d started modelling, he’d been having to give passes on people’s reaction to her behaviour.

Plagg slowly peeked out of Adrien’s bag, watching the designer pace slightly as he read the papers. He glanced at Nathalie, who stood next to Adrien. She was sharp, rarely missed a thing so he was going to have to be careful. The plan was risky for getting them out of the room, out of the house really. It had barely worked the first time he went against Style Queen. It tended to get out of control and this was one of those times he needed it to be in control. But he needed to wait until they were distracted for him to get out. It was weird though, seeing Adrien in this same room that was so full of hurt and dismissal and acting like a regular teen. It was fulfilling.

Adrien took in the mosaic picture that hung up. “Is that your wife? Emile Graham de Vanily?” at the designer’s look, Adrien shrugged. “I saw Solitude. She was really amazing.”

“It’s quite hard to get that movie. There’s only one DVD copy.”

“When my mama was restationed in Italy for a few months, there was a film festival in Sicily she took me to as a gift for missing the chance to see Jagged Stone. They were featuring private production studios and Graham Films was one of them. it was my favourite movie of the night. the opening scene always resonated with me for some reason.”

As everyone focused on the painting, Plagg darted out and into a nearby plant. Nathalie did turn her head at the sound but seeing nothing, she brushed it off.

“Yes. She was quite amazing in it. now, this seems like it would be a good fit for my daughter. If I can guarantee she’ll be on her best behaviour, will you accept her? I’d also be willing to make a donation towards anything needed for the event.”

Adrien frowned but sighed. “The donation might not be necessary. The Italian Embassy as well as a few others are sending supplies. There’s also a possibility of the actual UN sending something as well, that’s still up in the air. But yes, if she can keep her comments to herself, she should be fine.”

Just then, the whole house shook, leaving them scrambling for balance.

“What’s going on?” Adrien asked.

“An earthquake?” Nathalie questioned, looking as everything shook around them, spotting a few cracks appearing in the walls. “We need to evacuate, quickly!”

“But-” Gabriel started, looking at the painting, knowing about the things behind it. the people behind it.

“Sir now!” Nathalie ordered, grabbing Adrien and leading him to the door, Gabriel following after. Gorilla met them halfway, gesturing to the door before heading up the stairs to Lila. The shaking slowly came to a stop once outside in the driveway, standing in the centre away from anything. A few trees outside the residence were tilted, phone lines and wires drooping as well. it was silent of creatures though nearby car alarms blared. “Are you alright?” she asked Adrien, who was looking past the gate for Nino. One of the gate sides had tilted off its post, leaving room that Nino was squeezing through. “Be careful!” she called to him.

Gorilla came out, looking behind him, stopping when no one followed. Gaberiel started back towards the house when Lila finally came out. Her hair was out and she was dressed in a hastily thrown on dress and her eyes narrowed at the sight of Adrien and Nino, who came running over.

“What is he doing here?” she demanded.

“Lila, where were you?”

She ignored her father, instead glaring at Adrien who rolled his eyes and turned his back on her.

                                    _______________________

Back inside the office, Plagg waited from the table he’d knocked the vase from to get Lila to come by the office. It was a risk; on the chance she could take advantage and take something but she seemed to think better of it. getting into the safe was risky without the code, seeing how it was still hanging. But if things went how he planned and Gabriel realised it was missing, he’d have to suspect people who weren’t with him and Lila took the longest to leave.

“Plagg?”

He turned, letting out an elated cry at the sight of Nooroo. He slammed into the purple kwami, holding on as tight as possible. He was sure he’d be with Gabriel; he wasn’t expecting to see him.

“You’re ok! I mean, you’re still with him, but you’re ok!”

“I didn’t think I’d see you this time.”

“I’m sorry! I should have known! I was right here and I didn’t even notice.” He started to apologize, pulling away. “Only when Adrien found the crypt and his mom did, I realise. But he needed to get out before his dad found him and he was my kitten and I had to.”

“I know! I was down there. I had to tell Master what Adrien had found. Maybe if I didn’t, he wouldn’t have gotten Lila akumatized again to get the Miraculous. He was so sure she’d answer his call to the letter, he couldn’t waste time when Adrien knew. He had to make the wish to make things better.”

“Seeing him hurt like that…it killed me. Killed me more watching her knock him around after she knocked him out but I got her in the end. She hasn’t shown up as an akuma. How?”

Nooroo gave a slight smirk. “Me. If I was going to be controlled by him again, I was going to have him play by my rules. I convinced him that she wouldn’t listen if he did. She practically did the work for me with how she acts. She still hasn’t learned no one will play to her rules.”

Plagg gave his own smirk. “Well, she does think she has Adrien’s life. She thinks it automatically means respect and people believing in you. that wasn’t his name, that was all him.”

“You don’t belong to him, do you? wait, don’t answer that. I almost forgot you can’t tell me anyway. It doesn’t matter. He’s happy now, right?” Plagg nodded. “Then that’s all that matters. Now why are you here? I know you, you’re impulsive but you wouldn’t risk this with Lila so close by. Is this about Feast?”

“Its release gave him information about Fu, helped him focus on tracking him down. the kids don’t have the Grimoire, it never left the mansion so Fu never got it. only met the kids because Tikki got sick again. I’m not gonna let him run again and make him force guardianship onto a kid again.”

“You need them both? The Peacock and the book?”

“I’ll return the Grimoire, but we’ll need to keep the Peacock. The extra boost it gave him, he can’t have it.”

Nooroo looked worried. “But, if you remove the feather, it’ll reverse everything, the Temple will return, along with the Guardians. What if they reappear sooner to take you back?”

“Those old farts listen to us. They’ll listen even more once they realise a wish has been made. It’s a risk, might make him want to find out more but if it can keep him from Fu a bit longer, it’ll be worth it. come on, if they can stop him faster, isn’t that what you want?” Plagg asked.

“I want to stop hurting people.” Nooroo admitted. “I can tell you how to fix it if you want to do it before dealing with Feast, but it’s expensive without Gaberiel’s connections.”

“Fu will deal with that later. Can you help me get what I need?”

Nooroo looked to where the main camera was. It wouldn’t catch them, but it would catch a floating book and broach. Plagg was right though. Finding Fu had made Gabreil stronger and if they could stop it this time, it would be a godsend. He took Plagg in, looking at the more serious and focused than he ever had before.

“You’ve changed. I know we both have, but I wasn’t expecting this.”

Plagg looked wistful. “If I had it my way, I’d have my kitten no matter what. But even though this wish changed everything, he’s happier than he’s ever been and I’m not going to let him lose that.”

“Not without you. I saw how he needed you then. He might be a different happy, but I don’t think he’d ever be happier than when he was with you. I felt his emotions go from sad to happy in moments, even feeling happiness mixed with frustration that always seemed familiar amongst your holders. You made him happier than you could ever know. Come on, I’ll get the picture off and the safe open, you mess with the camera up there.”

                                 ________________________________

“Late last night at the Louvre, the Tibetan Statue that was said to be connected to a missing temple came to life. Security cameras caught the statue crumble to pieces before a blue creature came crawling out. It seemed to struggle with something, even attempting to run away when it burst into bubbles, leaving only a staff. The familiar figure of Scarlet Bug was then seen breaking the staff, capturing an item that escaped. People are now questioning if Hawkmoth had managed to Akumatize that statue or if the statue itself had always been an akumatized item. In other news, in the same area the statue was said to of been found, a temple has reappeared in perfect condition after it disappeared nearly 200 years ago. We’ve been unable to approach the temple as the Chinese Government who has control over the country refuse to allow entry to the mountain it is on. it begs the question of its reappearance being connected to the same possible akuma Scarlet Bug was seen dealing with the night before.”

Fu watched the news cast on his phone, biting his lip. When he’d seen the news of the unveiling, his heart stopped. His biggest mistake, there for the world to see. He looked up at Luka, who stood leaning against the wall glaring at him.

“I know I caused a mess.”

“I get why it happened. really, I do. You were put into the worst situation and you reacted with what you could. But you messed up and then you ran from it. be honest, would you have run again?”

“Yes.”

Plagg was with Luka instead of Tikki, looking at him like he knew all the answers. He looked at him in a way that reminded him that Plagg was a god.

“You do not entrust two school age kids with a powerful object, turn your back on one of them for the stupidest reason and then try to run when it gets hard. Do you want to make it up to the Guardians for what you did? Make up for losing the Butterfly and Peacock, which my sister – the same girl you refuse to allow to learn about the things she can do – used last night to fix your mistake by the way.”

“Where did you find it?”

“I didn’t find it, Plagg did.”

“And I’m not gonna say where. You have a habit of keeping secrets when you shouldn’t from us cats so we get to keep secrets now.”

“Hawkmoth must have had it! you must tell me.”

He stopped at the sight of Plagg’s eyes glowing. “I don’t have to tell you anything. You answer to the Kwami, not the other way around. I let you underestimate me because I couldn’t be bothered, but you’ve hurt my kittens before and I’m not going to let you do it again. So, things are going to work differently now. Luka?”

“We have all the pages from the Grimoire. The Kwami only know certain things, like Wyazz knowing the powerup spells and Plagg knowing how to fix the Peacock. You are going to teach us, both of us, how to read it. you aren’t going to keep secrets. If we need you, you have to answer. We’re the ones you sent to go fight a mess you made, so you don’t make final decisions, not anymore. And if the Guardians come, you will explain what you did and convince them to help us. Remind them that their ways made the mess and if they want it fixed, it’s gotta to change. Including how you treat my sister. If it wasn’t for Plagg, there’s a chance Hawkmoth could have gotten to Feast. So, stop looking down at him.”

“Don’t worry.” Plagg reassured, a smirk on his face worthy of a God of Chaos. “he knows better now.”

                                       _________________________

“You really didn’t have to scare him.” Tikki said, looking down at Juleka, who was still laying in bed but with her female friends and girlfriend around, including Kagami. The whole class came to visit and were taking turns.

“Yes, I did. Thanks to him, two of my kittens have gone through things that could have been avoided. I know, I know, if he didn’t mess up, I wouldn’t have met Adrien. And yeah, Fu didn’t make Adrien’s dad the way he was but his obsession with the Miraculous didn’t help.” He looked over to the side of the room where Luka was leaning against the wall on his side, Adrien leaning against him. He was talking softly to Luka who still had the same worried look he had when Juleka dropped her Peacock transformation, coughing and complaining of a dizzy head. And he thought seeing Adrien collapse after using Cataclysm and Black Hole was scary. Adrien had seen Nathalie and his mother do it and his concern was brushed off. Watching him with Luka now, he knew Adrien wouldn’t brush the worry off.

“It’ll be ok. You said Nooroo was playing him?” Tikki reassured.

“Yeah, but he’s smart and Lila…”

“Until we’re certain, all we can do is protect them, just like we always do. And if things go wrong, we’ll be ready.”

They would be, they had to be.

[thatstormygeek]

I've always been excessively irritated about the definition of "literally" to include its opposite, and I just figured that was some holdover from my grammar pedant days.

But.

Growing up with aphantasia (before that was even a thing people talked about), anxiety, undiagnosed adhd, and with everyone insisting I was a girl even though I knew it wasn't right, I just assumed everyone was pretty much speaking metaphorically all the time. Or I was doing it wrong. Or both. Usually both.

"Visualize a forest" = Oh, just think about some trees for some reason. I don't know how this is supposed to help me relax, but it seems to be working for everyone else, so I guess I'm just doing it wrong.

"I can't wait to get my period!" = wtf? why? She seems completely sincere, so I guess I'm just missing some information. I'll have to pay attention and hope I pick it up.

"Selling girl scout cookies teaches important life skills!" = (I can't even begin to parse this one out. The whole experience was so awful it's just a mass of negative emotions in my memory. One that covers a surprisingly large time period because it wasn't just the yearly cookies. It was school and softball and church and and and...all insisting we beg our neighbors to buy the same useless shit over and over again)

The way other people talked about these things was so utterly foreign to my own experiences that my child self couldn't conceive of how they could possibly be sincere. So I learned to closely observe and keep my own feelings and reactions hidden behind an expressionless mask. Trial and error--lots and lots of error--helped me figure out the tells for when someone was actually being literal. The consequences for being wrong ranged from embarrassment to injury, and I often couldn't predict how bad they would be, so I became more and more reserved and quiet. The smaller the audience for my mistakes, the fewer people inflicting punishment.

Years pass, I continue to observe and learn and improve to the point that I mostly pass as a functional human being on a day-to-day basis. I went off to college and my world expanded and kept expanding and I learned and contextualized a lot of things and so on and so forth.

And then the dictionaries said "Okay, we know y'all like using literally as an intensifier, so we're just going to add another definition saying that 'literally' also means 'figuratively.' It's cool. Language changes!"

Yes. Fine. Whatever. Except the emotional holdover from my confused-ass childhood is going to make me unreasonably bitter about it and it's going to take a wake-and-bake bullshit session with my partner in my 40s for me to understand why.

[phoenixyfriend]

Anakin and the Jedi Babies: A Child's Ink

Context: Anakin and the Jedi Babies, chrono

WARNINGS: underage characters get tattoos/piercings

Word Count: 5680 Rating: T Ships: primarily Gen (Disaster Lineage + Shmi), offscreen JangoShmi, past Obitine, past Anidala ----

Ylliben Skywalker is known as a preternaturally calm and quiet child, serious and pensive.

He jokes. He roughhouses. He is as responsive to tickle attacks and shoulder rides and warm hugs as any other child.

But he is Jetii'Manda, not just Mando'ade, and that fact is impossible to forget.

This is a child that can read before he can speak, a child who can talk at length about 'grassroots antiestablishment propaganda and its influence on rural sociological development' before he can say the words without a lisp. This is a child who looks a man in the eye and tells him to check over his blaster one last time, or it will explode in his hand only minutes into the next engagement. This is a child who is not only willing, but capable of discussing the plausible ramifications of Duke Adonai Kryze's latest decrees with Jaster Mereel himself, while still in possession of all his baby teeth.

(His father is not worried by this. Upset, sometimes, pained and tired, but not worried.)

(His sister only laughs.)

It is, as a result, not as surprising as it could be, when a six-year-old wanders his way into Na-Tsuyon's parlor and asks her what the risks of getting a tattoo at his age are.

"I'm not having that conversation with you unless your parent is here," she says. A few of the other artists crane their heads in her direction, but she waves them off.

"I'm not trying to get it right this moment," Ben protests. "I'm just gathering information. He said that was fine."

"Still need your parent here here," she tells him.

He leaves for about ten minutes, and then comes back with a tall, gangling figure in tow.

"I hear this isn't the place for unaccompanied minors," Knight Skywalker jokes.

(She has heard him called a General. She does not know which war he fought. Nobody does.)

(They no longer ask.)

"Well, he is young," she says, brushing her tentacles back over a shoulder. "I don't let anyone under human-fourteen get tattooed without a parent on hand, and giving preliminary information to anyone under twelve is... generally not worth it, shall we say."

Skywalker smiles, oddly amused in the way he always is when someone points out his children need supervision. "Glad to hear it. Are you the Na-Tsuyon whose name is on the door?"

"I am," she says. "And you're Knight Skywalker."

He's pleased at that. She can feel it in the chemical receptors of her head tails, and wonders. "Yep. So, do we jump right into the discussion or do you need me to sign something, or..."

"No, it's enough that you're here," she assures him. "Now, the main reasons we discourage tattoos for younger sentients is the distortion factor. While the level of pain is much lower than it would have been several millennia ago, and we have the technology to remove ink from below the skin, a tattoo before your body stops growing will distort as you grow and your skin stretches. You would need to come in yearly for touch-ups, to remove the sections that have moved out of place, and fill in where the ink is no longer settled."

"That makes sense," Ylliben says. He looks up at his father, and then back to her. "You'd be able to tell me if any of my choices would be... bad for a Mandalorian, yes?"

"I would," she confirms. She glances up at Knight Skywalker. "I don't suppose you have any history of getting tattoos?"

"No," he says. "I'm from Tatooine, so..."

Different connotations to the very act of it, for him.

She ducks her head in a nod. "I understand. Generally it's easier if the parent has experience in the process, but it's far from mandatory. You're willing to work with the distortion maintenance?"

"Yes'm," Ylliben says, and his father shrugs and gestures, as if the word of a six-year-old is thus law.

"I'll walk you through the details of the process, including the care, relevant allergies, and so on. I don't suppose you have anything in mind already?" she asks.

"I do," he says. He doesn't tell her what it is, yet.

Anakin Skywalker stays there the entire time, and they make an appointment for later in the week.

----

"My buir isn't my only father," Ylliben says quietly, when it comes time to get details on what he's getting tattooed. "I had another father before him. A Jedi. He died, to protect me, and a lot of other people. So, um..."

He shoves a picture to her, the symbol of the Jedi, plain and simple. She looks at him.

"In red," he says, shifting on his feet, looking up at his father and then back down at the page. "For, um, to honor a parent."

"Your first father was a Jedi?" she asks, gentle as she can.

"Mm-hm," Ylliben says. "He died, um... he saved buir from slavery, too, a long time ago. Both my dads were Jedi, and I'm going to be one, too, and so is Sokanth. It's--it's about where I come from, and--"

"You don't have to justify it if you don't want to," Na-Tsuyon tells him, reaching out to place one hand on his. It's very warm and dry, in her opinion, but she finds that most humans are. Mandalorians are some 80% human, or near human.

Nautolan Mandalorians aren't unheard of, but she's a rare one.

Ben sucks in a breath, and says, "I want it up here, on my right shoulder, like a pauldron."

Na-Tsuyon nods, and looks up to Skywalker. "You'll have to sign some papers to approve it, Master Jedi. You approve of the design?"

Skywalker hesitates, and then goes to one knee in front of his son, and speaks so quietly she can only hear "--remind you of the generator complex?"

Whatever Ben's answer is, it's too quiet for her to catch. It satisfies Skywalker, though, and he stands. "Alright, let's see this paperwork."

----

When Ylliben comes in again, a year later to get his slightly-twisting tattoo fixed, it's with Miss Shmi in tow. Na-Tsuyon greets the middle Skywalker, for all that she's still not entirely sure how to address the girl. "I heard you've been attending the university at Sundari. Some kind of engineering?"

"Mechanical, yes," Shmi says, oddly soft. "I'm going to spend another year to specialize in vehicular engineering. I'd like to design starships, since I already know how to fix them."

"A worthy goal," Na-Tsuyon says, as she leads them over to one of the stations and starts sanitizing Ylliben's inked shoulder. She doesn't entirely see why a university education is needed for something that, in her opinion, an apprenticeship could more thoroughly cover. It certainly worked well enough Na-Tsuyon herself. "You're on vacation, then?"

"I am," Shmi confirms. "It's... unfortunate that Anakin couldn't be here a the same time, but we'll see each other in a few days."

Ylliben fidgets for a bit as his jedi symbol is fixed, and then finally asks, "Ori'vod can approve new tattoos, right?"

"Sokanth, no. Shmi..." Na-Tsuyon looks up at her. "I have no idea if you're listed as his legal guardian anywhere, and I'd need proof of that."

"Secondary to Anakin," Shmi confirms. "Ben would like this to be a surprise for Ani."

Ben pulls out a sheet, with a careful design on it, and presses it into Na-Tsuyon's lap when she lifts the tattoo gun and he's not at risk of ruining his own ink. It's simpler than the Jedi symbol, though it's two colors instead of one.

"It's the Open Circle Fleet," Ben says, shy in a way she's given to understand he usually isn't. She thinks his shyer moments may be connected to admitting to emotion, something that he's tying quite closely to his choice of Tattoos. "I thought, um, since I'm already--already honoring one buir, then, er..."

"The Open Circle Fleet was under the command of my brother's Jedi Master," Shmi explains, one hand on Ben's. "And I am given to understand that the symbol was designed as a subtle nod, of sorts, to the two of them as a team. Ben's looking to honor Anakin as he has his first father."

Ben looks down at his lap, and doesn't meet Na-Tsuyon's eyes.

"Bring me proof of guardianship," she tells them. "And I'll make sure you get it finished early enough that the bacta comes off before Knight Skywalker makes it home."

She holds true to her word, and talks her way into being there to see the reunion and reveal.

The emotions that cross Skywalker's face are complicated and unexpected in ways that she can't identify.

Then it's all too simple, because he starts crying on little Ylliben in the middle of the hangar.

----

It doesn't take a full year for Ylliben to come in for another set. It's only five months, maybe six. He has a sketch again, a geometric design of something she doesn't recognize, but still pings as familiar for some reason.

"It needs to be the right shade of blue," he tells her, serious as anything. Knight Skwyalker is right next to him, smiling all soft and indulgent, and maybe a little sad. "It's for Soka."

Oh. This is based on her facial markings, then. Or... what they will be, maybe. This doesn't look quite like what she's seen on the girl, but everyone knows little Ben is more touched by visions than his father and sister.

Na-Tsuyon thinks she knows where this is going. "The same blue as her montrals and lekku?"

Ben shakes his head. "No, 501st blue."

Or not.

"It's close, but a little darker and more saturated," Skywalker offers, and shrugs when she looks his way. "It's a long story, but the 501st was the legion I led before I arrived at Mandalore. It had a specific shade of blue assigned for armor paint, so legions could easily identify each other in the field."

That's... odd. She doesn't ask for more detail, though. It's not her business. "Where do you want this one?"

Ben shows her his left forearm and frames a section about two-thirds the length of it, along the outer side. Like a vambrace.

She has a feeling all these symbols will be on his armor, once he's old enough for it.

"Let's go through my inks and see which one will work best," she says, and does not comment on the rest.

----

When Ylliben comes in again, a few months before his next touch-up appointment, he doesn't have an image on hand. His father is trailing him again, and Na-Tsuyon has a guess.

"Time for Shmi?" she asks.

Ben ducks his head, flushing and not meeting Na-Tsuyon's eyes. "Yes'm."

"I thought as much," she says, and smiles at Skywalker. "General."

"Don't start."

"There have been oh so many rumors flying since the last Jedi run-in, you know."

"I don't care," he grouses, dropping into a seat. "Hells, a man takes emergency command for one battle, and it's all anyone can talk about."

"You ended a civil war, sir."

Ben giggles into his hands as Skywalker groans and slaps a hand over his eyes.

"No respect," the man complains. "Ben, be nice to me, I'm your dad."

"Nuh-uh," Ben says. "I know all the most embarrassing secrets."

"A cruel child," Skywalker accuses. "Ruthless."

"You're the one raising me," Ben says, swinging his legs back and forth. He's got plastoid training vambraces, now, and greaves that clink against the legs of the chair.

"Somehow, yes." Skywalker sighs, with great drama and all such things. He drags himself up to sitting. "Anyway. Moving on."

"Do you have something in mind already?" Na-Tsuyon asks.

"Binary suns," Ben says. "Just two overlapping circles, coin-sized, one bigger than the other, in sunset colors. In a gradient, with a sort of... flare to it? Halo? The... oh! The stellar corona. Buir knows the colors better."

"I want to see what you have to work with before I sketch out the design," Skywalker says. "But yeah, sort of pink and yellow and peachy."

"I can do almost any color," Na-Tsuyon promises. "Especially on fair human skin like Ylliben's. I won't have a problem getting those to show up the way I would on myself."

Na-Tsuyon is a color most would call 'aquamarine.' She's a light shade between blue and green, and much as she likes her skin, it's an absolute pain to make red and orange show up.

She can do it.

It's just annoying.

Ben asks for this one to be on the inside of the left forearm, high and opposite to the widest point of the mark for Sokanth.

----

"Can I see your fonts?"

Ben's alone, for the moment, but Na-Tsuyon knows that when he makes his decision, his father or Shmi will approve it without question. It's no harm to let him browse.

"Basic, Mando'a, or Huttese alphabet?" she asks. "Or something more esoteric?"

"Mando'a, please."

He's eight years old, now. He's still far younger than most of her clients, but she's long gotten used to him. Even when he's acting like a child, there's something to it that doesn't quite sit right. 'Born middle-aged,' a few of the other civilians on base had joked.

She wasn't sure if she thought it was just a joke, these days.

Na-Tsuyon passes her fonts book to the boy, and settles back in her chair for a long afternoon of running numbers. He, meanwhile, goes to sit in the lobby, legs still not long enough to reach the floor, paging through with unwavering, unsettling gravitas.

Half an hour, and then Ben returns.

He points to a font. "This one."

"What's it going to say?"

"Vode An," he tells her, as serious as can be. "In black, over my heart. It's important."

"It's a fairly common phrase," she notes idly. "Should be quick."

She doesn't expect much of a response, and certainly not the one she gets.

"It was different for them," Ben mutters, not looking at her. She sees him twisting the toes of one shoe into the floor. "It was... it was different. I can't talk about it. They were brothers, actually brothers, and they had--they had nothing, they were basically slaves, but--"

"You don't have to talk about it," Na-Tsuyon assures him, a hand on his. "You don't have to explain it to me. If it means something to you, that's all that matters. I just need you to be sure."

"And buir to sign the paperwork," Ben quips, smiling at her. She notices that several teeth are missing. It's cute. "You need that too."

"That too," she agrees.

When Skywalker shows up, he hears what it is that Ben would like, and makes a few suggestions for a border--a gear that sounded too much like the Republic's symbol for a Mando'a phrase, a building on stilts from a city she's never heard of on a planet that rings no bells, a human genetic strand for reasons she can't imagine--most of which are soundly ignored, until Skywalker sketched out a stylized ship of... some sort.

"Venator," Skywalker says, and taps the image. "Nobody will know it except us, but it'll mean something to you, for them."

Ben looks at it for a long moment, and then takes the scrap of flimsi with Mando'a on it and lays it overtop the center of the sketch.

He stares at it for a few long moments, and then nods sharply and pushes it to Na-Tsuyon. "This, please."

He's such a polite child.

It makes it easier to ignore the more confusing parts of his presence in her parlor.

----

"Hi!"

Sokanth Skywalker is in her shop.

That's new.

"Hello," Na-Tsuyon says. "I didn't know you were thinking of getting ink."

"I'm not," she says, hopping up on a stool across the counter. She holds out a hand, and Na-Tsuyon clasps it with bemusement. "But you guys do piercings too, right?"

"We do," she confirms. "You're... ten?"

"Yep!" Sokanth chirps, kicking her legs back and forth. "Is that old enough to get these without permission, or should I ask my dad to come by?"

"At least twelve for piercings without in-person, signed approval from a parent or guardian," Na-Tsuyon says. "Though if you're anything like your brother, I don't imagine that'll be a problem for you."

Sokanth grins at her, bright and a little wild. "Nose, bottom lip, eyebrow. I don't know the actual terms, but I know what I want. Which do you suggest getting first?"

"I'd say nostril," Na-Tsuyon tells her. Most species even vaguely humanoid kick off with the ears, but that's not exactly an option for a togruta. "Let me get a chart and you can figure out what type of piercing you want, and what kind of hoop or stud. I don't actually do the piercings myself, though. Comm the General if you want this done today, though."

"Thank you~!"

----

Nostril, labret, and a horizontal brow, the piercer notes down at the end of the latest Skywalker visit. Na-Tsuyon wonders if the brow piercing will look strange with Soka's markings, and then doesn't think on it further.

----

Ylliben, almost nine, is silent as he gets the touch-up.

His father isn't here. Neither is Shmi. It's pre-approved, signed permission and all, but it's still odd that neither of Ben's adults is here.

Sokanth is, but she's almost as quiet as Ben is.

Na-Tsuyon has heard the rumors, but she's not going to say anything. She's not. It's not her business.

"Ben," Soka speaks up, towards the end of the appointment. "Ask her the thing."

Ben shakes his head. "No way."

"She knows more about tattoos and how important they are than anyone!" Soka urges. "Ask her!"

"Do you want to wait for your father?" Na-Tsuyon suggests.

"No!" both immediately yelp.

She pauses, glad the needle hadn't been to skin, and levels a look at Ben. He flushes and settles down, mumbling an apology for jerking as he had. She goes back to fixing the stretch of the binary suns tattoo.

Soka shifts in her seat, watching them intently.

"Shmi's upset with buir," Ben suddenly says. He doesn't meet Na-Tsuyon's eyes. "I'm... I don't know if you heard what's going on."

"I do my best to avoid rumors," she says, keeping her voice as neutral as she can. "I did hear that the Mand'alor is about to have a grandchild, and something about an upcoming wedding. That much has been announced officially."

"Dad freaked out," Soka says, legs kicking back and forth. "He's happy for her, and he's fine with Jango being the other parent, but it kicked off a... philosophical crisis? Ben, what do you think?"

"Metaphysical, maybe," Ben mumbles. "Definitely existential."

"And he told Shmi some stuff and now she's hurt that he didn't tell her before and it's all a mess," Soka finishes. "So, uh, we don't... want either of them involved. Until. Um. Until that's settled."

Na-Tsuyon bites back any deeper questions she might have. "Alright. I won't pry. What did you want to know from me?"

"I had a plan for what I was going to get next," Ben says, staring at the fold of fabric over his sister's knees in lieu of something more pertinent. "A peace lily, on the inside of my wrist, for..."

"You don't have to tell me," she reminds him.

Ben bites his lip, and closes his eyes, and breathes in deep. Neither of the girls comment.

"She was important," Ben finally says. "In the big memories. But she doesn't... she's not... she isn't here. And Jango is. And he's marrying Shmi, and they're having a baby, so I should put a mark down for him first, right?"

"He's gonna be Mand'alor, too," Soka adds.

"He is," Na-Tsuyon says, as neutral as she can.

"He's joining the family," Ben says, his gaze fixed on the floor in front of him. "And there's going to be a baby, and that's. That's important."

"There's no order that you have to get things in," Na-Tsuyon assures him, squeezing his shoulder in a light gesture of support. "You've prioritized family so far, so I think it would make sense to get a mark for the coming cousin, at least. Unless... is the lily for your birth mother?"

Ben's face twists, uncomfortable for some reason she can't begin to guess at.

"No," Ben says.

"Skyguy's Jedi Master did almost marry her when they were younger," Soka explains. She glances at Na-Tsuyon and then away and at the wall. "They had a whole dramatic 'forbidden romance' thing going on, 'cause Jedi aren't supposed to get married. She died before Ben came into the picture, though."

It's a neat enough explanation.

It feels fake, but much of what the Skywalkers say about their pasts does.

She's sure it's true in some way. In some perspective. From... from a certain point of view, maybe.

"Alright, then," Na-Tsuyon dismisses. "All things aside, I would suggest adjusting your order of tattoo acquisition, but there's no particular requirement by Mandalorian standards. Your choices are rarely anything that intersects with set traditions, nor do you have a historic clan or house that comes with mandates of the sort. It seems that you're leaning towards prioritizing something for the new additions to your family, though; you've made it clear that these things are important to you, and I think you should pursue it if you're comfortable with it."

Ben nods, eyes somewhere far off.

"It'll make him flustered," Soka pushes, kicking lightly at her brother's ankle. "Jan-Jan's still worried you don't like him anymore."

"He is not," Ben huffs. "He's just scared of buir."

"Nah, your opinion matters too," Soka argues. "And you've been avoiding everyone 'cuz Skyguy freaked out and Shmi's upset, so Jango's worried you're mad at him about the baby happening. If you get a tattoo about him, he might actually cry."

"Is that why you want me to take that route?"

"Not the only one," Soka says, utterly guileless. She blinks at him, bright and innocent. "But I definitely do want to see the future Mand'alor crying because you made it obvious he's family now. It'll be funny."

Ben sighs, very clearly being dramatic about it. "Soka, I'm not going to pick a tattoo based on what you think will be funny."

"Imagine his face, though."

Na-Tsuyon doesn't comment at the expressions Ben makes as he very clearly does exactly that.

"Well, kriff," Ben sighs, and Soka giggles at the swear. "I'll have to get a tattoo for Jango, then."

----

Ben is already nine by the time he comes in with his father to actually get the tattoo for Jango's addition to the family. The choice he makes isn't particularly imaginative, but it'll suit well enough. A mythosaur skull, the symbol of the Haat Mando'ade, in a grey the same shade as beskar.

There actually are traditions to this one, specific adjustments to the framing and stylization meant to indicate how one fits into the faction, but also how one is associated with the Mand'alor. Ben is family, and close family, but not related by blood, nor adopted directly by the Mand'alor, rather a relative through the riduur be alor.

Na-Tsuyon explains each element and adjustment in detail, lets them process and agree, until she's taking a needle to Ben's skin once more.

"Will you be getting one for the coming child as well?" Na-Tsuyon asks while shading in a curve of bone.

"Not yet," Ben tells her, quiet and oddly contemplating. "I need to meet them, first. Figure out who they are."

"Sensible," she agrees. There's the usual oddity in his phrasing, and she ignores it as ever. "Did you tell Fett that you were getting this?"

"No, it's intended as a surprise," Ben says, watching her work.

She can almost feel the coming question.

It does not come from the human she expects.

"Do you know any Mando tattoo artists in Little Keldabe?" the General asks, voice low.

She finishes the line she's on, lifts the needle away from skin, and turns to him. "You're leaving for Coruscant?"

"Not yet," Skywalker says. He meets her eyes evenly. "But... soon. The time's coming. A year, maybe two. The Force will let us know when the time is right."

"Uh-huh," Na-Tsuyon acknowledges this. She does not comment further. The Force is not her wheelhouse. If they think it wants them back on Coruscant, with the Temple, then that's what they believe.

"These are Mando work," Skywalker continues, almost painfully earnest, "and I'd like to ensure whoever maintains them until Ben stops growing knows the right way to handle Mando art."

It's really not that different from a standard tattoo artist, but she's a little charmed anyway. Enchanted, almost. The man really does care.

"I can get you some names and addresses next time you stop by," she promises him. "It's been a few years since I checked in on their work, and I'll need to look them over before I make any recommendations."

He smiles at her, relieved in a manner she finds appallingly open for a Jedi like himself.

Ben mimics his father.

----

She gets to attend the wedding, months later.

The food is very, very good.

(Ben waits until the reception to show off his new tattoo, and the future Mand'alor does, in fact, cry.)

(So does Shmi.)

(So does their eight-week-old daughter, but that's probably unrelated to the tattoo.)

----

"Do you think getting a belly button ring would be good?"

Na-Tsuyon doesn't lift her head from her paperwork when Sokanth poses the question to the piercer. She's in for the horizontal brow bar, this time, and the labret is going to be somewhere a few months down the line.

"That's really up to you," the piercer says. His name is Hujnak, and he's a Devaronian that's been working here since Na-Tsuyon opened up the place. She loves him dearly, but he stole the last piece of cake and for that he will have no help with difficult customers for the next fortnight.

Or until she gets bored.

"I'm leaning towards 'no,' but I'm not sure," Soka muses. "I like the idea of it, but I feel like it might get snagged on things more easily. Plus, it's going to be a point of higher damage and pressure if I get a gut punch. It's one of the parts of my body I'm never really going to armor up, you know?"

They do know. There have been screaming matches about all the Jedi's refusal to wear enough armor on many occasions. The Jedi prioritize their agility to such a degree that armorweave is more reasonable than actual armor, in their opinion. This is an opinion that Fett and Mereel both take issue with.

At great volume.

(Shmi has vambraces, a gorget, and greaves, Na-Tsuyon knows. Some of it was exchanged at the wedding. Shmi doesn't wear much armor, certainly less than even the children. Shmi, crucially, isn't a warrior or otherwise planning to see battle.)

"Then I would say it may be best to hold off."

"Phooey," Soka says, though she doesn't seem particularly upset. "Ben's gonna be cooler than me forever, then."

"You think tattoos are cooler than piercings?" Hujnak challenges. "I'm offended."

"He can just get more," Soka protests. "Without it looking weird or getting dangerous, I mean."

Hujnak hums, noncommittal. "And you're worried about being cooler than the younger brother you have told me is, and I quote, the biggest nerd ever?"

"Well, yeah," Sokanth scoffs. "He's gonna start acting older than me as soon as he thinks he can get away with it. I gotta have something to hold over his head, you know?"

"Seeing as you are the older sibling..."

"Ehhhh..."

Nope.

Not paying attention.

----

"These are House Kryze colors."

Ylliben's breath hitches.

He is ten. He doesn't seem ready to provide answers. She turns to the father instead.

"Will that be a problem?" the general asks, calm and even.

"Yes," she says, and Ben slumps. She continues, because this is her job, and for a reason. "Unless you have a ready justification for when House Kryze asks, yes, it will be a problem. If it were a landscape or an animal, it wouldn't matter, but the pairing of the colors and the peace lily is an explicit statement of loyalty to Adonai and his heir, Satine. Unless you've suddenly decided to adjust your political stance to total pacifism instead of your Jedi approach, or have another reason to take on House Kryze colors, I'd warn against it at all, and would refuse to perform the work myself."

Ylliben's eyes are fixed somewhere behind her, and shining wetly.

"Okay," the general says. "Ben, do you have any other pallettes in mind?

"These were her colors," Ben whispers, and then he swallows thickly. "I just..."

"Simplify," Skywalker suggests. He fiddles with a necklace half-hidden in his Jedi layers; the japor one is visible, but a dull gold glint is all Na-Tsuyon can see of the other before it's tucked away again. "She'd understand, yeah? There's political ramifications. Dangerous ones, especially to you."

Interesting thing to say about a woman who, by Soka's earlier statements, died well before Ben was born.

They could at least try to stop dropping hints about their oddities. She doesn't want to know more.

"Lilac," Ben finally decides. "And... pale silver. With a filigree pattern in the shading?"

"I can do that," Na-Tsuyon promises.

She does not ask further.

----

"We're moving to Coruscant in a month."

Na-Tsuyon's head snaps up, head tails jolting almost painfully with the movement.

Sokanth is getting her labret, finally. She's gossiping as Hujnak prepares the tools, as usual, and Na-Tsuyon tries to ignore it when they Skywalkers do that, she does, but...

"You're leaving," she repeats, feeling oddly blank.

"Um... yeah?" Soka answers. She scratches at one stubby montral. "We've talked about it before. I thought you knew."

"I didn't realize it was so soon," Na-Tsuyon defends. She's more upset than she should be. "I thought you'd be waiting until the little princess was older."

Sokanth blinks at her, slow and... not judging, no. Evaluating, maybe.

"I'm almost thirteen," she says, slow and deliberate and heavy. "And Ben's eleven. There's no hard age limit for becoming a padawan, but I'm getting into the peak years for getting chosen, and I've been living here instead of in the Temple. I haven't had years to impress a potential Master like the others. That might not matter; sometimes a Master sees their future student and just knows, but... I need to have other Jedi to spar with, not just Skyguy and Ben. And Ben's visions are getting stronger, and Dad was never that good with his own in the first place, so he's worried about being able to help at all. We could stay longer, but..."

She trails off, and shrugs, and the weighted air disappears. "It's not the same thing as a verd'goten, at all, but it's about the same age, you know? I should be in the Temple for it."

"What would a verd'goten equivalent be?" Hujnak prompts, when Na-Tsuyon fails to find her words. "Being an adult and equal member and all such things?"

"Knighthood," Soka answers immediately. "Dad got knighted when he was twenty, but that's really young, usually. His master was knighted at twenty-five, which was a bit late, but apparently there was a whole dramatic thing going on there that Dad never got all the details about."

"Becoming a Padawan is a sign that your teachers see you as someone that is ready to take on the responsibilities of a Jedi, yes?" Hujnak asks. "That you may not be ready to go out on your own, but that you're old enough to understand your oaths and choose how to follow them, and to protect others?"

Sokanth considers this, and then nods. "Yeah, I guess it's similar to using the verd'goten to gauge if someone's ready to swear the Resol'nare, that way. Still not moving out, and just about entering an apprenticeship, but enough of an adult to make the choice of how to change the world."

"I think most cultures have something like that around the same age," Hujnak comments. "Some do it a bit later in the teens, but it's usually around your age that most... well, most cultures who age at the 'human standard' rate--"

Na-Tsuyon can't help the reflexive snort of derision. Neither can Soka. Hujnak, the closest to human in the room and yet still very much not, smiles like this is exactly what he intended.

"--most who age at that rate do have it somewhere in that eleven-to-seventeen range, I'd think."

Soka shrugs. "Yeah, well. Still gotta go to the Temple for it, you know?"

"Are you going to take the verd'goten at all?" Na-Tsuyon asks, suddenly a little desperate to keep the Skywalkers here, with Mandalore and all its people, just a fraction of a moment longer.

"I don't think so," Soka muses. "I've been thinking about it, but I should probably talk about it with Jango, yeah?"

"Yeah," Na-Tsuyon says, and feels like she's swallowing down around rocks.

----

As it turns out, the timing is very deliberate. Three weeks later, Jaster transfers the title of Mand'alor to his son.

(Though Na-Tsuyon does not know this, twenty-six is older than Jango was when he lost the title, once upon another life.)

There is a week of festivity. There is food, and drink, and dancing. Some people get married. Some people make announcements of impending births. Some people reveal songs they composed in preparation for this very day.

For a week, Mandalore celebrates a new king.

Then, the Jedi and his children leave.

(Ben gives Na-Tsuyon a hug before he goes.)

(She tries to understand why she feels like she's losing something when he does.)

[finelinevogue]

Can you write something about when Harry and Y/N broke up but fans speculate that they got back together and they did get back together. They broke over something stupid, please. You don’t have to do this exactly it can be something like that.

let’s see how this turns out! hope it’s what you wished for?!

The last few months had been rough.

What had started as rumours of a breakup between everyones favourite couple, you and Harry, had turned into an actual breakup.

It had started by Harry spending more time with Olivia, due to press for Don’t Worry Darling. They were always hanging out with each other, even when there was no publicity stunt telling them to. You found it appropriate at first, wanting the movie to gain some form of reputation, but after a while you believed it turned South. It was becoming a definite friendship and not just because they had to. It was the way that Harry would bring Olivia over for dinner without checking with you first, or taking the dog for a walk with her not you, or even staying longer out on stunts than they needed to just because they wanted to.

So you challenged Harry on it. Hell, even the tabloids were challenging you both - claiming Harry had split from you for Olivia. You made him question whether he thought his actions were irresponsible and appropriate or not, to which he thought there was nothing wrong and thought you were being irrational. You didn’t speak to him for the rest of the day, only to find him later on the phone speaking to Olivia about how crazy you’d been acting about it all. So you showed him crazy and walked out.

Until today.

For over a half a year your sister had her wedding planned and Harry was supposed to be your guest. You were nervous about turning up without him, because your family were very judgy. Your sister couldnt help being the smarter and the prettier one, but she also didn’t have to parade it around so everyone knew of it. Your mum and dad thought you a disappointment for the longest time, but once you’d gotten a job and had moved out they were a bit more loving over you. Still didn’t hide the fact they desperately hoped for you to have a relationship. It wasn’t that you were bringing Harry along to prove that someone loved you, but more to prove that they would never fully be satisfied whether you had a boyfriend or not. There would always be a podium stand slightly lower for you to stand on.

However, they didn’t know about the breakup.

“Y/N, nice to see you. Where’s Harry?” Another guest asked you, relatives of your mum. It was the same question over and over again, no one really caring about how you are but instead whether you’re in a positive relationship.

“Oh um I think he’s just running a bit late.” Was your chosen answer to respond to said question. It was repetitive, but it kept people off your back.

The wedding was completely beautiful. It was in a beautiful church and was decorated to perfection. The theme was white and royal blue, something your sister had always dreamed of. Children played amongst the pews and family relatives mumbled to each other about gossip. There was still a heavy sadness to the event. Maybe it was because your sister hadn’t asked you to be a bridesmaid - instead, choosing her best friends instead - or maybe it was because you missed Harry so much.

He’d fucked up. He really had, but it didn’t take away that burning passion for him that spread like a wildfire in your belly. You missed him. You still loved him. Worst of all, you had to pretend everything was all alright in front of your family when actually you were breaking apart inside.

Harry hadn’t messaged saying that he was or wasn’t coming, but after everything that had happened you were confident he was going to be a no show, and you would be the embarrassment of the family once again. Your relationship had been very private and exclusive, but Harry’s fans were so investigative you wouldn’t be surprised if they knew that you’d broken up and were aware that you were at a wedding today without him. Neither of you had made a public statement about your breakup, but neither of your wanted to damage each other even more. Fans suspected though and rumours travel fast.

“Y/N how are you doing? How’s Harry?” Another aunt came and asked you, this time with your mother in tow.

“Oh he’s great, yes.” You smiled forcefully, not actually having a clue how your ex-boyfriend was doing. You didn’t keep up with his social media because you were afraid of what you might find.

“Where is he? Is he here?” Your aunt asked.

“He’s late, apparently.” Your mother answered for you, sneeringly. “You’ll be made a fool of if he’s a no show Y/N.”

“I know.”

“I hope everything goes well for you both.” Your aunt kindly said, before waiting for your mum to say something nice too. That was a mistake though.

“Well it’s unlikely she’ll find someone again!” Your mother laughed and pulled your aunt away from you. You furrowed your eyebrows and let your heart sink low.

What were you thinking, letting Harry go like that? Your mum was right, you were never going to find anyone else again. You were so lucky with Harry. He was so kind and so patient with you, but obviously he’d run out of steam towards the end. It doesn’t surprise you. You’ve always been told you’re a mighty handful and you need a lot of work put into looking after you, so you understand why you were probably too much for Harry. The showbiz life had never really been something you’d completely submerged yourself into, whereas you guess for Olivia it was rooted in her from birth. She understood Harry’s world the same way he did hers. They would match perfectly for each other, if that’s what they wanted.

You watched the room continue as usual, but you couldn’t keep yourself here. There was too much sadness welling deep within you that you wanted to just run and then keep running. So you did, only to get as far as the bench in the front courtyard. The outside felt calmer and more freeing than inside, you sat and absorbed it for a while, not realising that you were crying until your pretty multicoloured dress had grown darker with a pool of your tears.

“Shit.” You tried rubbing the tears out, but only made you cry a little harder. You thought about your makeup running and tried to compose yourself, fanning your face to calm it down from the heat now.

“And here I was thinking weddings were supposed to be happy.”

You stopped fanning your face to look at him. You couldn’t believe he was standing there, dressed in a beautiful white suit and salmon pink shirt underneath to compliment the colours of your dress - the outfit that you’d helped him pick out over a year ago. He’d remembered. He trusted that you’d still be wearing this dress. He was a sight alright. A vision of beauty and love.

“Harry?” You questioned, wiping your under eyes to clear away any running mascara, not quite believing he was standing there.

“So what was it? Bad music playing? No vodka? Or maybe there’s nowhere for you to escape to go read the book I know you have stuffed away in your clutch bag.” He stood at a distance from you, hands in his trouser pockets, to make sure you were comfortable.

“I brought vodka instead of the book.” You chuckled, reaching into your clutch to prove it to him.

“Lucky for you, i’ve come to save the day.” Harry reached to the inside of his blazer pocket and pulled out a Kindle. You’d always been debating whether or not to buy one, because the feeling of having a book to turn its’ physical pages is a feeling second to none. “Take it, it’s yours.”

Harry handed it out to you and you stood up to reach for it hesitantly. Harry assured you that it was okay and that you’d been reading too many books if you thought it was a trap of some sort.

“Thank you, Harry.” You spoke sincerely. You stroked your thumb over the cover and turned the case lid over to start up the screen. The screen lit up and it was set to a picture of your favourite quote, annotated just as you would have in your own book. You chuckled and let a few tears drop from the kindness of all of this.

“And then…” Harry unlocked the Kindle with your birthday as the password, before clicking on the library so you could discover what was waiting for you on your virtual shelves. Harry had downloaded all your most favourite books, whilst also downloading the ones he knew had been on your to-be-read list. He’d even added a few of his favourite books too, just because you liked reading his recommendations.

You smiled, but felt so lost.

“W-why are you here, H?” You asked, closing the lid and bravely looking up into his enchanting eyes. You had to control yourself not to comment on how wondrous they looked.

“To save the day.” He chuckled in repeat, until he knew you weren’t taking that for an answer. “Because I fucked up. Big league time.”

“Yeah.” You whispered, looking down at your shoes to see that they weren’t that far apart at all. He was so close to you, yet he wasn’t yours to catch.

“And i’ll never forgive myself for letting you walk out of that door. The promotion shit with Olivia? Done. I’ve finished. I explained that the movie isn’t as important to me as you. You,” Harry paused to breathe out, and took the risk of guiding your jaw up to meet your gaze with his soft hand, “you are real Y/N. You’re so important and key to my life and it bloody terrified me, still does actually, to think that you make me feel this way. I want everything with you. Marriage, kids, a home. A life. I was so worried I would screw it all up, though, to the point where I did screw it all up. I lost you and so I lost me. It’s selfish of me to ask whether any part of your heart still wants me, but—”

“Yes.” You quickly interjected before he could say something he’d later regret. “There is, yes.”

“R-really?” He stumbled over his response, not expecting you to react so soon but his words had got to you. His feelings were vulnerable and raw and it reminded you of how much you love him and feel safe with him.

“Why? Would you like me to say different.” You teased.

“No,” Harry rushed, stepping closer towards you, “God now. Stay, please. Forever, if you’ll have me?”

“I can deal with forever.” You leaned up to where his lips were, craving the taste of them against yours so badly. “Can I?” You looked between his lips and his eyes, watching his eyes coo in admiration of you. His arms snaked around your neck and cupped the back of your head, resting his ringed fingers against your skin delicately.

“You don’t have to ask, angel.” And with that you didn’t hesitate to reclaim your clips on his. He tasted as sweet and as soft as you could remember. The hint of mint sweets he kept in his car could be tasted all over his mouth, and he could no doubt taste the vodka on yours. He took no time in rushing to have his tongue exploring your mouth once mouth, biting on your lip when he got the chance to. He wanted you to remember this moment and how much love he has for you, and always will. Just as you do for him.

Hesitantly pulling away you smiled at him cheekily, feeling so much lighter and happier to have him here. With you in his arms so expertly.

“What?” He asked, leaving a quick kiss to your nose, inhaling his scent as he did.

“Just can’t believe you’re here.” You stroked his cheek with your thumb, and he leaned into your touch so comfortably. He had missed you so damn much, and it showed.

“Let you down once before and I wasn’t going to do it again.”

“So you’d have shown up even if I hadn’t?”

“Not happily, but yes.” He laughed thinking about it.

“Why?” You laughed with him.

“I’ve got to make my impression on your family somehow. Need to remind some of them how amazing and beautiful their special Y/N L/N is.”

“Some are going to need a lot more persuading than others.” You sighed, side-frowning over your words.

“No offence, but anyone who doesn’t treat you as a fucking diamond doesn’t deserve you and should watch out for kick up their backside from me.” You laughed over his empty threat and buried your head against his chest, listening to the heartbeat and rumble of laughter that came from within. This moment alone felt like home. Safe and warm.

“I love you, H.”

“Bloody love you too.”

Harry ended up returning to the wedding with you, much to your mothers surprise, and you both enjoyed the celebrations together. You shut yourselves out from everybody and just danced, talked and drank the night away.

You were so in love.

Later, photos got leaked of the wedding and it showed you and Harry dancing away in one of the backgrounds of the photos. It was supposed to be a shot of just the bride and groom, but you two have managed to get caught in it. You looked so caught up in each other that you still weren’t even aware the photo had been taken. You and Harry had determinedly avoided the camera all night, exactly for this reason, but a part of you was kind of happy that this one photo got leaked, because it showed the world that Harry was yours and you were his. It showed that you were together, or back-together as addressed by some FBI fans, and that you were stronger for it.

[fandom-blackhole]

Di'kut - Soulmate AU

AN: Well, you guys didn't care for my angsty Soulmate AU, so here is another one! I'd say its happier than last time though, at least it ends on a happier note. I honestly feel a bit bad, because for the life of me I can not let Paz be happy.... if there is enough requests, i might write a part 2 for this. Oh, this is also my last fic for @maybege May's Birthday Bash and I just wanted to say I had a lot of fun writing these fics and I hope I didn't break your hearts that badly with the other two Paz fics ;). Love you all!

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x GN!Mandalorian!Reader

Words: ~4k (this was supposed to be short...)

Rating: Everyone

Summary: Paz Vizsla is the biggest di'kut you have ever had the misfortune of meeting, and it is just your luck that he is your soulmate. (Soulmate AU-the first words your soulmate say to you are tattooed on your body)

Warnings: Paz is an asshole, descriptions of using blasters, someone gets shot but the blaster is on stun so they don't get hurt, some angst, bit of an enemies to lovers (let me know if I missed anything!!)

Masterlist

When the black smudge on your arm finally became legible you were still young enough that the inky black taunt written in scratchy penmanship made you spiteful, and made you form a prepubescent anger towards your soulmate. The words mocked you morning and night, through all your training and lessons,, through your free time, every second of every day the words, “You are no mandalorian,” flowed through your head on repeat, and made you want to give anything to smash your soulmate’s face in. You were just as much of a mandalorian as the rest of your family, you fought for the title, trained for the title, memorized and lived by the tenants of the Resol'nare, and like thousands of mandalorians before you, you mourned and watched as your family was taken from you as you had barely reached adulthood.

Your mother used to worry about you, about how instead of the love your soulmate’s words were supposed to bring you, you became spiteful. She used to whisper to you, try and calm you, with soothing words she would say, “Whoever they are they will know they are wrong quickly, ad’ika, your soulmate will love you and learn to regret all the pain these words have caused you. Plus I bet whoever they are, are just saying these words out of jealousy, because you are the strongest, most bright little warrior I have ever met and I, along with your father, are so proud of you.” And her words helped, at times that the words hurt the most, when they caused rage to flare up, you would let her words flow through your mind and they would quiet your thoughts, even now years after she was taken from you.

Over time your pettiness for your soulmate softened, though it never fully disappeared, now the words just hurt, so you covered them, always. Never looked at them, and only took off your long shirts when you bathed, still taking care to keep your eyes from drifting to your arm. To help yourself ignore the words, to ignore the pain that came with them, you threw yourself into work, anything you could find, all the while searching for other mandalorians, as your heart yearned to be back among your people and drained for living years on your own.

And that is what led you to Nevarro. Rumors whisper in the wind that several mandalorians have been spotted on the planet, though never more than one at a time, and usually a younger, more reckless one donned in red and silver armor. It took you a few days, longer than you had liked, as you were eager and impatient to not be alone anymore, but eventually, that mandalorian in red and silver armor cornered you, and you must have said all the right things, you must have proven you weren’t a threat, because he had led you to where his tribe hid away from everyone, and once you entered the tunnels you had to bite your tongue and swallow back the tears that wanted to escape from the overwhelming feeling of safety that immediately washed over you.

It had taken a while for the red mandalorian to lead you to the tribe, and a few more to take you to their leader, their armorer, the mandalorian explained how he had found you, and once the armorer nodded he turned and left. Neither of you said anything for a few minutes, and you found yourself intimidated by the woman in front of you, but you also couldn’t help but feel respect for her as the air that surrounded you was something you had never felt before, but knew deep down she has earned every ounce of respect that her tribe gave her. Then you heard her sturdy, and calm voice echo through the forge, “Why are you here, mandalorian?”

Bowing your head, you responded as evenly as possible, given your racing heart and trembling fingers, “I heard rumors of other mandalorians here on Nevarro….I came to see if there was a tribe I may join, and I must say my heart is full knowing that I have found more of my people.”

“You want to join our tribe,” she paused long enough for you to look up into her pitch-black visor and give a small nod, “Well then, tell me, is there a reason you are not with your original tribe?”

You bit your lip under your helmet, taking a shaky breath before giving a bit of a jerky nod. “Yes… my tribe… my family were found and wiped out by the empire.”

“How long have you been alone and searching for another tribe, my child?”

“Years… I...I do not have an exact number to give you, I lost track as I threw myself into searching and working.”

The armorer gave a single nod, and you could see her shoulders relax slightly before she spoke again, “You will be welcomed into our tribe, it is an honor to be able to bring a lost mandalorian back to their people.”

You let out a shaky breath, one that you had not realized you had been holding, and bowed your head again, “Thank you, I promise you will not regret this. I was very well learned in my tribe and one of the top warriors in my age group, I can help the tribe in any way you need me to, wherever you need help, I can be of service.”

“That is a relief to hear, especially with our need for a teacher for our foundlings. Once you are settled, we can discuss what all you know and assign you an age group to work with.”

“Thank you again...it is nice knowing I am not alone anymore," and in reply, she only nodded.

In a few short days, you had met with the armorer a few more times and went over everything you had been taught and what all you were confident in teaching, which was quite a lot and had even surprised her and resulted in a bit of praise of your knowledge. Quickly you started teaching the foundlings, each taking to you like a duckling to water, and finally, you started feeling at peace for the first time since you could remember. But then you made an important discovery, something that should have honestly clicked sooner.

In your small classroom, you would often take off your helmet so that you could talk with the children face to face. The children all loved it and in your opinion, you always thought that it was easier to learn when you could see your instructor’s face, read their emotions. But when lessons were over, you would put your helmet back on and nod to the parents they picked up their children, or to the foundlings who would walk themselves to and from lessons. It was a habit to wear your helmet by this point, it felt like a safety blanket after practically living in it all these years, and you just never really put two and two together that you had never seen any of the other mandalorians in your new tribe without their helmets, too oblivious in your newly found peace. Then one day, as you were sitting on the floor with the youngest foundlings, the older ones at training, you were telling them stories your mother had told you, each of them completely entranced in your words, and you were too caught up in telling the story to notice the man sneaking into the room. Before you even knew what was happening, there was a solid hand wrapping around the back of your neck and another pulling your dominant hand behind your back and forcing you to stand and walk out of your classroom. You didn’t react, not out of shock, not because you couldn’t, but because your little foundlings all started freaking out and you knew if you went quietly and left them with reassuring words they wouldn’t be as scared.

Your capturer did not take you far, only escorting you a few doors down and into the forge where they threw you to the floor at the armorer’s feet snarling out, “I caught them helmetless in front of the foundlings.”

Looking at the floor, tears in your eyes from the rough treatment, things finally clicked in your brain, and you whispered, “You’re children of the watch.”

You could feel the armorer’s eyes on you, and when you finally looked up, she told you to stand, before asking, “You never took the creed, did you?”

You only shook your head and swallowed when the armorer nodded. The room quieted, only the soft roar of the flames from the forage could be heard, before you swallowed and set your head back, looking forward at the leader you have come to respect. “I am sorry I did not realize what tribe I had been brought into, had I known I was being welcomed into a tribe of children of the watch, I would have taken care to follow your rules. I may not have taken your creed, but I still respect you and your culture as a fellow mandalorian-”

“You are no mandalorian,” the man who had dragged you here spit out, interrupting you and making your blood freeze in your veins. The stories always romanticize the warmth that was supposed to come from hearing your soulmate's words, but you could only feel ice run through your veins at the hatred in his voice. You are sure that your eyes widened, and a bit of panic and anger spread on your face tells which the armorer in front of you noted, before looking past you and saying, “Paz Vizsla, what were you doing when you made this discovery?”

The man, Paz, scoffed behind you. “The older foundlings were talking nonstop about the new teacher during training, praising them, and saying how much they loved them so I wanted to see what was so great about the new teacher. Only when I walked in did I find this traitor sitting in front of our children.”

“So you are telling me that you left your post, where you were supposed to be helping train the older foundlings, so you could run around and investigate the newest member of the tribe. Then you thought it wise to humiliate them by dragging them here to me?”

You did not hear a reply, not caring enough to really process what was being said, as your brain was still processing the words that he, Paz Vizsla, your soulmate, had spit at you only moments prior. Your heart still thundering in your ears as you barely hearing the rest of the exchange between the armorer and the man behind you.

“Where are the young foundlings now?”

“Back in the-”

“You left them there alone… of course you did. Go sit with them until I am finished here, then we will be having a talk.”

Again, you heard no reply, but you did hear his footsteps retreating from the room. Not long after the faded, the armorer turned back to you. “You knew we were children of the watch, knew of our creed, how?”

Taking a deep breath, you looked towards the armorer, though you could not hold her gaze long. “My father, he had met some mandalorians that followed your way of life before. In fact he met many different mandalorians who each followed a different interpretation of the Resol'nare. He...he taught each of them to me, telling me, “We are all mandalorians, even if we view the way of life differently, we each live by the tenants. Accept each mandalorian you meet, do not judge, judging is what broke us all apart, and caused many deaths of our people. If we are to be one people again, we must learn acceptance.” And I have always taken great care to not forget those words or teachings.”

The armorer nodded her head, before softly saying, “Your father was a wise man, he taught you well,” she stayed quiet, the two of you thinking over everything that had happened and what you had said, but eventually, she continued, “I am not making you leave. There are not many of us mandalorians left, and while I do not entirely believe in your way of life, I will take a page from your book and respect it regardless, if you are willing to respect ours. All I ask is that you wear your helmet around the others, as you learned with Paz’s outburst, many are not accepting here.”

You nodded, giving a short, “Of course,” before she dismissed you to your room, saying that someone would bring your helmet to you.

After the incident, you avoided Paz Vizsla with everything you had, the sight of his blue armor immediately sparking rage in you. Never once staying in his presence long enough to speak to him, refusing to allow him to find out you were his soulmate. Through each passing insult, or demeaning comment he threw in your direction you just bit your tongue and walked away, taking the time later to curse his existence as you tore through and ruined several training dummies as you took your anger out on them. And you endured this, taking his scathing comments for months, years even.

Then you reached your boiling point. Paz Vizsla finally reached the limit of your patience. One of your students had been struggling in shooting training and was too shy to ask for more help from the instructor, not that you blamed them considering who the instructor was at the moment, Paz Vizsla. Instead, they had asked you, and you had agreed because you wanted nothing more than for all of your students to succeed, and felt honored that they felt safe enough with you to ask for your help. You had barely gone over the different parts of the blaster, having the student repeat it back to you twice, and had just started giving a small lecture over blaster safety when Din walked in, and you just nodded at him as he did the same before settling a few paces away. Din wasn’t home at the tribe often, so getting to see him was nice, the two of you being friendly, and it was an added bonus that with his marksmanship if you needed to, you knew he would be willing to come over and help in your little tutoring session. Turning back to your student, you asked them to show you how they had been shooting, to see what you were working with. Slowly, they picked up the blaster and shot at the target, barely hitting the outside ring, and you nodded at them when they looked over to you for approval.

“That wasn’t bad at all, ad’ika, but there are some things I think I can help you with,” stepping to the stall next to them, you pulled out your blaster and held it to the target, before looking to your student again. “First, I need you to relax, don’t be tense. The blaster is dangerous, yes, but you must respect it and treat it correctly and you will not be in danger. If you are tense, it makes the recoil worse, if your arms are relaxed though, your arms will absorb some of that recoil and you won’t jerk back so hard. Next, widen your stance just a little bit, okay? See how I am standing, and how my arms are slightly bent, not completely stiff? I want you to try shooting like that, and remember to use the sights on the barrel to aim.”

Your student nodded, fixing their stance as you safely put your blaster away. Their next shot hit much closer to the bullseyes eye, not hitting it, but hitting in between it and the ring just outside of it, and you smiled, opening your mouth to praise the foundling, but you weren’t able to get it out before a chuckle sounded out behind you, turning your stomach sour as your least favorite mandalorian spoke up, “I am surprised you even know how to hold a blaster, let alone how to teach someone to use one.”

Clenching your teeth, you let out a frustrated huff, whipping out your blaster and turning to look the man who has caused you nothing but hell the last few years right in the eye, before pointing your blaster at the target and shooting three shots without looking, and judging by the shocked laugh and the whispered, “That was kriffing amazing,” that came from your student, you think it was safe to say each shot found the middle of the target. Paz stayed silent though, and you could feel the glare he was shooting at you, but you just turned to Din, who was watching silently, and said, “Would you mind taking over for me? For some reason, I am starting to get a migraine.”

“Running away, as always, how very mandalorian of you,” Paz scoffed out as you passed him, and finally you were done. So before you could even think to stop yourself, you whipped your head to look at him, growling out, “You are the biggest di'kut of a mandalorian, Paz Viszla,” before stomping away. You of course too caught up in your anger to notice how he froze at your words, but you weren’t too out of sorts to hear his own angry stomping following after you. He caught up to you in no time, his stride longer longer than your own, but he made the mistake of trying to grab you again like he had a couple of years ago, but this time, you didn’t let him get past loosely wrapping his fingers around your wrist, immediately angling and throwing your elbow back so it would hit him in his unarmored side. He let out a very pained grunt and let go of you. He recovered faster than you could get away, though, so as he reached for you again, you whipped out your blaster and aimed it at him which caused him to freeze. Carefully, you set the blaster to stun, making sure he wouldn’t notice, but the thick-skulled mandalorian seemed distracted.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” he grumbled out, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, and you just looked him dead in the eye, before saying, “Why would I tell the person I hate the most that we are stuck together? Wasn’t a curse enough to know my soulmate, the person who is supposed to love me was the same person that hated me most in this world?”

Once you were finished speaking, still running on anger, not just from the encounter, but from every encounter since he drug you to the armorer, anger from the moment you could read his words, a lifetime of anger that had built up to this point, so you simply turned you blaster down, shooting the small area on his thigh that was uncovered twice, which was thankfully enough to drop him as he cursed. You just turned and walked away from him. You didn't know where you were going, but anywhere away from him was exactly where you wanted to be, and you took a bit of joy in him yelling after you and hearing him struggling to follow you.

You managed to avoid him for the rest of the day, just walking the tunnels that the tribe lived in, sticking to the most abandoned ones so you weren’t spotted. The few times you passed halls close to the covert you could hear his shouts and stomping, but you only quietly turned to go deeper into the tunnels. But it got late, and your anger had long since turned to exhaustion when Din found you wandering the tunnels slowly. He didn’t say anything, just walked beside you for a bit. Eventually, he did break the silence, though, “He’s sitting outside your door, convinced you’ve hidden yourself away in there and refusing to speak to him.”

You only laughed, the thought getting to you in your tired state to the point you found yourself leaning against the wall and holding your side from laughing so hard. It took a few minutes, but when the laughing subsided, you looked at Din and said, “Well I guess we know why you’re the bounty hunter. We’d have no money if he was the one out there tracking people down.”

Din chuckled, and the two of you started walking again, quiet following the two of you again. You zigzagged through a few halls, not really caring where you were heading still when Din broke the silence again, “Why did you never tell Paz you were his soulmate? He would have stopped if he had known.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, letting out a sigh before answering, “It doesn’t really matter, does it? What would have changed? Because the way I see it, he hates me, soulmates or not, I am just a traitor to my people in his eyes, so what would the rose-colored lens of being his soulmate change? Why wouldn’t he still hate me? And if he did stop, and he did suddenly start caring for me, would it only be because I am his soulmate that I would suddenly be enough for him?....... Din, I didn’t...don’t see him changing his opinion of me because of our soulmate status. My father always said that the Vizslas weren’t shit.”

Din quietly led you through the tunnels, not saying anything until he finally stopped and turned to you, “While I agree with what your father said, I think you should at least hear him out. In fact, he's been listening the entire time,” and with that he tapped the side of his helmet, before he turned and left you standing there alone. It took a few seconds, but you realized that Din had led you to the end of the tunnel that led to your room, and like Din said, right beside your door looking directly at you stood the one person you did not want to talk to, but it was far too late to leave now. Instead, you held your head high and started towards your room, towards Paz. When you were only a foot or two away, he took a step forward, making you freeze.

“I should apologize.”

You didn’t say anything, too tired to deal with this, and your heart still full of bitterness for the man. But, you listened, not for Paz, not for yourself, but because Din had asked you to.

“What I did to you, what I have said to you was not okay….I should have listened to the armorer years ago when she berated me for treating you the way I did, and there is no excuse for it….. But what you said to Din...just because you’re my soulmate doesn’t mean I am instantly going to like you now...because I have always liked you, and I have hated myself for it, because you were so different from what I was raised to believe I wanted to hate you, but...but I never could.”

You took a deep breath and moved around Paz quietly reaching to put in your door code and stepping inside. Once you passed the threshold, you turned back to look at Paz, and only said, “I can’t forgive you Paz, not right now. What you have said to me...there is no justification for it,” you let that hang in the air for a few minutes, before looking him in the eye, “But… if you are willing to work to gain my trust, to gain my love, to gain my respect, and you learn to respect me, then, eventually, I think I could forgive you.”

Paz responded with a small head nod, and a quiet, “Of course, anything.”

Nodding back, you reached for the door panel, and before closing it, you said softly, “Good night, Paz.”

And as you closed the door, you heard him echo the sentiment back, softly saying your name at the end, before you heard his footsteps echo down the tunnel as he walked away, and for the first time since you were welcomed into the tribe, you felt yourself fill with hope for the possibility of a happier future.

Mando'a Translations:

Di'kut - idiot

ad'ika - little one, daughter/son

Everything Tags: @mysticalgalaxysalad @phoenixhalliwell @moodsare @perpetual-fangirl900 @night-snows00 @dumbass-simp-for-fredweasley @stargazingthenightaway @meabravo @just-here-for-the-moment @masteracewindu @litakino

Paz Tags: @bunny-fair @elinedjarin @shellyc9 @blackmarketmummy @djarin-junk

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[donutloverxo]

NO BUT LIKE CONCEPT: SMUT HC where mob!steve comes back from a rough night that leaves him very much outta it and ur the only one who can help him ... in more ways than one

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+.

I'm making this a drabble cause I can't work with HCs. Thank you❤ Warmings -explicit sexual content, dom Steve, daddy kink, spanking, blood and wounds, bullets. Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

You put some distance between your poor ear and your phone upon hearing your friends loud screech, excited since she saw your Instagram post of your new engagement ring.

"It is so beautiful! And so unconventional and unique too!"

"Mm-hm," you hummed, applying a second coat of your fiery red nail paint, to make it more intense, you just knew it'd look amazing against Steve's pale skin, he absolutely loved it when you scratched him and were a bit rough with him.

You never gave him any pointers on what kind of engagement ring you'd like, only thing that was a bit too obvious - which you never actually needed to say - was that you loved shiny things. So he has gotten you a ring with a huge sapphire ruby and tiny sparkly diamonds adorning the band. It was everything you needed and more.

"Makes sense because our relationship is anything but conventional." Where he had never directly said that his job involved a few things that were kind of, sort of, illegal but you weren't an idiot, it didn't take you long to figure out.

You knew he was important and rich when he asked you out, not just because he wore fancy clothes, but the way he carried himself, tall and proud and an aura that dominated any room he was in, two bodyguards always around him, and when you both started getting serious he assigned Peter, who was sort of an intern or newbie from what you gathered, to always escort you places and take care of you.

Maybe it wasn't exactly the most rational thing to do - marrying someone who was as feared as he was respected - but all you knew was that he was a good man and you had faith in him, so you stayed away from that part of his life.

"You must be planning the wedding now," she beamed over the phone.

You scoffed, blowing on your fingers, "No, he's always at work these days. It's so annoying, if it doesn't change then I'm leaving and taking the ring with me."

You looked at it sparkling on your finger, it was too beautiful to part with. Besides it became yours as soon as he gave it to you.

"You're late, but there's nothing new about that," you puffed out your cheeks, hands crosses under your chest, as he loosened his tie and worked on taking off his shoes. He had been coming home past midnight for the last month, enough was enough!

"Doll," he groaned, looking at you and ready to tell you off and ask for some space, but then he saw you. In a satin babydoll that barely covered you, with lace trimmings that did nothing to hide your soft nipples, your toes and nails painted just the color he liked, and you were wearing those ridiculous fluffy slippers with bunny ears that he had grown to love.

His mouth opened and then shut like a damn goldfish, forgetting what he was about to tell you.

"Steven," you furrowed your brows.

He knew he was in trouble as soon as you called out his full name. "Yeah?"

"When are we going to discuss the wedding?"

"I'm sorry, doll, work has been hectic these days. But soon."

"Soon? Soon doesn't do it for me," jutting your hip and leaning against the door to your walk in closet, "I need an exact date."

"I can't give it to you right now, puppy," his jaw clenching as you rolled your eyes, "Watch yourself, sweetheart. I had a long day, you don't wanna get on my bad side today."

"You shouldn't have put a rock on it if you didn't intend on marrying me," rolling your eyes extra hard just to get on his nerves.

"I do want to marry you. But right now... you're sort of making me have second thoughts."

He regretted those words as soon as they left his mouth. Because you looked about ready to smack him.

"Fine then. I guess I'll leave and go live with my mother from now on. She would be happy for sure, she isn't too thrilled about our engage - " you stopped your rant as soon as you noticed crimson seeping through his crisp white undershirt as he took off his coat.

Your eyes as wide as saucers, your heart beating fast and hard in your chest and you could feel your eyes getting watery. You weren't handing out empty threats, you were definitely serious about leaving. Just to remind Steve of just how much he loves you.

It wouldn't be the first time. You had done it once before, when you went back to live at your apartment because he yelled at you for going out with your girlfriends without Peter. You didn't need a babysitter, especially not one who was several years younger than you. You had gathered up your things from Steve's penthouse and went home with a heavy heart. You loved him with all your heart, but there was no way you could make it work with someone who was that controlling and mean to you.

But he came to you, literally got on his knees to apologize and to beg for you to take him back. He even made you give up your apartment and got you a bigger house for you both to live in. Just so you couldn't take off ever again.

"Steve... your bleeding..." you said as you held back a sob. Any anger you had towards him was now gone.

"Oh, shit," he looked down to his side, "Must've ruptured the stitch or something..."

You walked over to him, holding onto his waist and looking up at him, trying not to look at his wound. You weren't that squimish around blood, it rarely ever bothered you, but this was your Stevie, and he was hurt. "What happened?"

"Its... It's nothing, doll. It was an accident."

"Yeah, I guess you slipped and fell on a bullet," you huffed.

"No, the bullet barely grazed me. And you know I don't like talking about those things with you."

"Why? I'm not stupid or weak, I have a right to know."

"Of course, not, puppy. You're my sweet, strong, smart girl," he cooed, bending a bit to peck your lips and then groaning. "Gotta, be careful with this," he said as your fingers worked on unbuttoning his shirt.

"If I'm so strong and smart then tell me what happened," you asked as you pushed his shirt off his shoulders. You didn't stop to marvel at his huge and perfect body like you always do, you looked at the fresh batch on stitches right over his hips.

"No, puppy. You're too good for that world, too good for me," he groaned as he sat down on the little pink couch he had put in the closet for you. Since you spent hours trying to pick outfits, he didn't want you standing too long and hurting your feet.

"Fine then don't tell me," you whimpered, rubbing your tears off with the back of your hand.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm okay. I'm right here, not going anywhere," he tried to pull you into his lap, usually he wouldn't even have to ask for you sit on it, but right now you were pulling away and refusing for some reason, "C'mere, doll," he almost whined. Not used to being told no by you anymore than you were by him.

"No, I don't wanna hurt you," you hiccuped, as your sobs started to calm down.

"You wouldn't. You could never hurt me. C'mere I wanna cuddle you and make you feel better," he tried to pull you into him again but you just shook your head.

"I should be the one making you better. Not the other way around. But I don't know how to..." you swayed from side to side, suddenly ashamed of your brash behavior from earlier. "I'm sorry, I was being such a brat earlier."

"It's okay, puppy. I forgive you. You were right, we need to fix a date and find a venue and get you a pretty dress. I wanna see you in one of those poffy gowns, like a princess."

"That's called a ballgown," you said proudly, having done your research now. You knew all about the styles of the gowns, sleeves, necklines, colors and everything. "And you're not going to be involved in dress shopping process. Grooms aren't supposed to see the dress before the wedding it's bad luck."

He hummed at that, a bit disappointed but he would eventually see it, and then take it off, so it wasn't a huge loss. "Yes, you're right. But, let's not forget, you were a bad girl."

You gasped incredulously, "Well, you were being a bad fiance!" Which earned you a swift smack to your backside, making you yelp and fall forward, holding onto his shoulders for support.

"I didn't mind you calling me out for that. I want you to be honest with me and tell me everything. But you threatened to leave me, again."

You pouted. Offended for being called out so blatantly. Yeah you always made empty threats, packed up your bags just for show, whenever you didn't get your way. Never considering his feelings when yours were hurt.

"Sorry," you mumbled.

"I forgive you. I know you didn't mean it. But I'll have to teach you your lesson. Just so you know better next time."

You nodded your head, which made him spank you once more, "Yes, daddy!"

"Good. How many do you think you deserve?"

"Um... Fifteen. Ten for threatening to leave, and five for giving you attitude."

"See, you're so smart. I'll punish you tomorrow though. I'm tired right now," he groaned as he sat back against the couch, squeezing your hips and admiring your figure, showing through the thin material of your nightie.

"Um, daddy?"

"Yes, angel?"

"Is there anyway I can make you feel better right now?"

"Yeah, you can give me a kiss. You didn't give me one this morning when I left, or when I came back."

"Okay, I'll kiss you. But I also wanted to do more..." you murmured, your face burned hot as you realised that Steve was going to make you say what you wanted to do.

"Like what?"

"Like, take your cock down my throat. Would that make you feel better? I'll try and be careful about your stitches." Truth be told you missed being intimate with him, you needed it as much as he did.

"It definitely would make me feel better. But I want to have you close to me," he stroked the inside of your thighs, hands dangerously close to your cunt, "Why don't you, come ride my cock. Just like I taught you, hm?"

"But - what if I hurt you..." you whined. But he wasn't having any of it, rolling your panties down your legs.

"You wouldn't, puppy, come on we'll be careful. Be quick."

You gave him a meek nod, unzipping him with shaky fingers, giving his glorious cock a couple of pumps before straddling his lap. You made sure to not put any pressure on his lap. Lining his cock up to your pussy with your hands wrapped around his neck, you slowly sanked down on him.

First giving him a nice and thorough kiss to make him for not kissing him goodbye or welcome home like you always do. "I feel so full," you say against his lips.

He hummed, squeezing your ass, "I was made for you, angel. As you were for me." He slid the straps of your nightie down your arms, exposing your breasts to him. He made sure to shower them with all his lips, sucking, kissing and biting and pulling with his mouth. You were making the sweetest of noises, trying to keep your moans in as he helped you bounce on his cock by holding onto your hips.

"You're doing so good. Being such a good girl for me. My sweet, best girl," he cooed, kissing your forehead, he knew how you were still vulnerable to be on top.

"Am I making you feel better, daddy?" you sniffled, his cock hiting you in all the right places, making it impossible for you to keep going and hold off your climax.

"I'm all better already, thanks to you, puppy."

[arvinsescape]

Attention.

A/N: I’m back! Felt ready to post something, I’m not sure on a schedule yet but I’m going to try and start posting a few things again! Things are looking better at the minute and I’m in a better head space.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of smut.

W/C: 5.1K.

Your chest tightened the longer you sat there, glass of wine in your hand as you slouched in your chair. The tears you felt building behind your eyes burning your eyeballs as you blinked rapidly to hold them back. You knew he’d been distant recently, spending less time with you over the last couple of weeks but you hoped tonight that’d change, apparently not. You’d been sat here now for forty-five minutes waiting for Tom to show up and so far? Nothing.

The looks you were receiving from the waitress were beginning to annoy you, you hated pity, you really did. She knew who you were and who you were waiting for, she’d served you many times before in this restaurant, she was lovely and probably didn’t mean anything by her pitiful looks. You reached for the bottle of wine as you refilled your glass, the waitress making her way over.

“Are you ready to order?” She asked and you looked up at her with a sad smile receiving one in return.

“I’ll just take the bill please.” You said in defeat as she nodded in understanding and disappeared. You almost jumped in your seat as the one across from you scraped across the floor, Tom making an appearance.

“I’m so sorry darling, I got held up.” He said as he reached for your hand across the table, you gave him a tight-lipped smile and allowed him to place his hand over yours. Not wanting to cause a scene. “You look beautiful.” He said as he ran his thumb along the back of your hand and you smiled at him.

“Thank you.” You sighed out and he furrowed his brows.

“Are you okay?” He asked and you nodded. “You sure? I’m sorry I was fifteen minutes late baby.” Baby it made your heart flip in your chest, he hadn’t called you that in almost three weeks, it was always your favourite pet name he gave you. That and Princess had the ability to make you crumble at his feet but not right now, the ache in your chest intensifying.

“Forty-five.” You corrected quietly and his furrow deepened as the waitress returned, bill in hand. She looked almost as surprised as you had to see Tom sat across from you.

“Do you still want the bill?” She asked and before you could speak Tom interrupted.

“No, sorry to mess you around but I got my times mixed up. I think we’re good to eat now?” Tom asked you and you shrugged in response. Tom and the waitress both looking at you for a straight answer. You felt bad holding her up and messing her around, it was a busy night for her, you could see that.

“Yeah, we’re good. I’m sorry for messing you around.” You smiled apologetically and she smiled in response, dismissing your panic and taking Tom’s drinks order and yours for a second bottle of wine.

“Darling- “

“Don’t Tom, I’m not in the mood.” You interrupted and he nodded slightly in response, neither of you a fan of making a scene in public. “How was your day?” You asked as you took in a deep breath, ready to make this as civil as possible. Tom sensed it, he knew this was going to be short lived, the civility between the two of you would end as soon as you stepped foot through the door to your home.

“It was, yeah, it was good, nothing to report.” He shrugged and your anger brewed, he was late, got held up but didn’t have anything to report? “Yours?”

“Yeah, was good, busy day in the office but other than that it was fine.” You said with a small smile.

This continued on, the dinner being far from what you’d been hopeful for. You ate, made small talk, finished your drinks, paid the bill and walked home. It was cold on the walk home, your arms covered in goosebumps, silently cursing yourself for not bringing a jacket. You rubbed your hands along your arms to try and create friction and warm your cold arms.

“Here.” Tom said as he handed you his blazer, you were feeling stubborn, wanting to give him the cold shoulder.

“I’m good.” You said.

“Y/N,” he warned, he knew he was in the wrong, but that didn’t stop him worrying about you and being his usual protective self. “I know you’re angry with me and we’re gonna talk about it but you’re cold, please don’t be so stubborn, I don’t want you to get ill.” He said as he placed the blazer around your shoulders.

Your heart lifted as you became encased in his warmth, became encased in his scent you’d missed over the last couple of weeks. You pulled the blazer on properly, hands digging into the pockets to try and warm them up, it was working, slowly, nothing like when it was in Tom’s but that wasn’t an option right now. The feeling of dread hit you as you made your way up the driveway and into the house, the inevitable argument you were about to have settling in your chest.

You made your way into the living room, Tom following carefully behind as you took your heels off and greeted Tess, bag finding its way to the floor. You took in the living room, the TV in standby but the orange light of his PlayStation catching your eye. It was in rest mode, a sign he’d been on it before heading out to meet you and showed his intention of firing it back up when he returned. It made your blood boil, that’s why he was late.

“Darling..” he trailed off as he watched the realisation set in on your face.

“Were you late because you were gaming with the boys?” You asked and watched as Tom cringed at how awful it sounded.

“I swear I lost track of time.” He defended and you nodded as you walked passed him and into the kitchen. “Princess, I’m sorry.” He said as he followed you, your eyes moving to the calendar on the fridge. Your hand writing catching your eye, you had written the correct time, you’d reminded him that morning as well. “Y/N/N?” He asked carefully and you spun on your heel to look at him.

“You’re an arsehole.” You stated simply and he let out a sigh as he nodded.

“I know. I swear I thought you said half seven, not seven.”

“You would still have been late.”

“I lost track of time.”

“Thought you got caught up?” You fired back and his face fell.

“Come on, I’m trying here.”

“Really hard, I noticed.” You spat out sarcastically and you saw the flash of confusion behind his eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, I’m just used to it at the minute.” You shrugged as you walked passed him again and up the stairs, Tom hot on your heels.

“What?”

“It doesn’t matter, go back and play with the boys, I’m sure that was how you wanted this evening to turn out.” You said, voice far more stern than you’d expected considering the heart ache and tears that were starting to take over at the situation.

“I’m confused here, I know I was late today but I feel like I’m missing something else.” He said as you walked into the bathroom.

“Just me.” You mumbled out in hopes he wouldn’t hear you but he did. Your hand moving to the shower to turn it on and let it warm up.

“What?” He asked, a hint of anger to his tone.

“Nothing, just leave me alone.” You snapped.

“I don’t want to, you’re obviously upset with me and I want to know what’s going on.” He said, arms crossed over his chest.

“Makes a change.” You spat at him and his face turned to one of anger, you were both growing more and more irritated with one another.

“You gonna tell me what you mean by that? Or are we gonna continue with the riddles?” He asked, voice stern. Although he knew he’d fucked up, he hated when you got into one of these moods when you were either too angry or too upset to be straight with him.

“Can you just leave me alone while I shower?” You asked and he huffed before making his way out of the bathroom and you slammed the door shut, locking it for good measure. You needed to get your thoughts straight, pull yourself together and allow yourself to cry, you’d wanted to all evening.

You took your dress off throwing it into the basket as you undressed and got into the shower, letting the warm water raise your temperature, the walk home had left you cold. You let the tears fall as you let the heart ache set in, a part of you wondered if he didn’t know he was doing it, but then wouldn’t he miss you too? Wouldn’t he miss the closeness you’d not had for a couple of weeks.

Another, more insecure part of you wondered if he’d met someone else, he hadn’t touched you in a good few weeks, not in that way. It was unusual for you not to be all over each other, not when he was home, so it left you wondering if he just wasn’t interested anymore. It wasn’t that you hadn’t tried, you had, wearing things around the house that usually got him going but recently his eyes would flick from the TV and then back to it. The tears fell faster at the thought, you loved him, god you loved him more than you could bare at times.

You finished up your shower as you tried to compose yourself, letting the anger set in because you couldn’t focus on the heart ache right now. You’d just cry in front of him and you didn’t want to do that right now. You got changed into your pajama pants, they felt strange to wear because you barely wore them, a hoody was pulled over your head as you placed your hands into the pocket.

You made your way back into the living room where Tom was, the TV still off which surprised you. Tom’s head snapped in your direction, his eyebrows raised at your attire, it was unusual for him to see you in pajama pants, you usually wore them when you were ill and trying to cling to any warmth that you could. You couldn’t shift your thoughts from your head, the thought that he just wasn’t attracted to you anymore.

“Tom,” you let out in an almost pleading way, the anger you wanted to hold onto slipping. His eyes found yours and softened at the clear sadness and heart break in them. He moved carefully from the couch, making his way over to you, standing in front of you as you found his feet suddenly interesting.

“Hey,” he said as he placed a hand under your chin and tilted your face to look at him. Your eyes were red and rimmed with tears threatening to spill. “Talk to me.” He almost pleaded, voice soft.

“I” you started before a sob choked your throat. “I miss you.” You said as you fell into his chest and cried into it, your hands fisting his shirt as your tears stained it. One of his hands found your back whilst the other found your hair, massaging your scalp slowly.

“I’m right here princess.” He said as he stroked your hair. Your anger rose at that, he had no idea how distant he’d been.

“You haven’t been.” You said sternly as you pushed back from his chest and took a step back, his hands falling from your frame.

“What? I’ve literally been home for a month.” He said, confusion evident.

“Not really, your precious boys have been more important than me.” You spat, that anger you wanted to hold onto was back and you didn’t want to let go of it.

“What do you mean?”

“Your fucking PlayStation Tom. Your golf dates with them. Your complete lack of any sort of interest in me.” You shouted at him and he huffed, his own anger taking over.

“I think you’re being a little dramatic. I’ve been here, I’ve been with you. I miss the boys too you know.” He said, voice colder than you was expecting.

“I get that, I do.” You acknowledged. “But you don’t come to bed with me anymore, in fact you come to bed when I’ve fallen asleep these days. You fail to tell me when you’re going to play golf with the boys, I find out in the morning when you’re already set to go. I asked you to give me your sole attention tonight and you couldn’t, the boys coming first.”

“I have apologized for tonight, I don’t know what more you want. I’m sorry if you feel like I’ve been prioritizing the boys, I haven’t meant to.” He said that coldness still in his voice.

“It’s not just that. You’re dismissive, if you’re not online with the boys you’re playing some shite and that takes all your attention.” You said, you’d created a distance between the two of you, your arms now folded across your chest, mirroring him.

“So you want attention?” He spat out.

“Don’t patronize me.” You spat back as you pointed a finger at him. “You don’t call me anything other than my name at the moment, the last couple of hours have been rare in the past couple of weeks. You haven’t touched me.” You said, anger faltering slightly in the last sentence.

“What are you talking about? That’s not true. Not touched you? I distinctly remember you straddling my lap the other day.” He shouted at you.

“To try and get your attention Tom.” You said, anger falling from your voice. “To try and get you to notice I’m still here. We didn’t exactly do anything, you didn’t even turn your fucking console off. Tom, you haven’t slept with me in almost three weeks.”

“You know, if you wanted me to come off my console, you could’ve asked.”

“I shouldn’t have to.” You said sadly and his face fell, the anger was disappearing for the both of you now.

“Look, I’m sorry…” He started as you interrupted him, a question that had the room falling to silence.

“Is there someone else?” You voiced your insecurity, your true fear of why he was so distant. He’d been back a month, you’d slept together once and he barely made time for you, what if he had found someone whilst he was away. You knew he hadn’t cheated, he wouldn’t, you knew that but that didn’t mean he couldn’t become attracted to someone that wasn’t you.

“I haven’t cheated on you.” He said softly after a while, stepping towards you carefully.

“That wasn’t what I asked.” You said as the tears started again, your hand that was wrapped in the sleeve of your hoody coming to wipe at your face. It wasn’t long before Tom’s hand encased it and pulled it from your face, his eyes finding your own, the heartbreak in them was so evident you regretted ever asking the question.

“Baby, no. There isn’t anyone else, not for me. I would never, I couldn’t, you’re perfect princess.” He spoke and it was so honest that it pushed that insecurity way into the back of your mind again. “I’m sorry.” He spoke, your hands in his as a tear made its way down his face.

“I just want your attention Tom. Not all the time, I understand you miss the boys, I do. But I miss you too Tom, I didn’t say anything because I thought tonight would fix everything but it just made it worse.” You spoke more to yourself than him. “I just feel like you haven’t missed me half as much as I’ve missed you.” You finished and with that you took your hands from his and made your way upstairs, leaving Tom with his own thoughts.

You went into the bedroom, closing and locking the door as you made your way into bed, pulling the covers over your frame as you cried into your pillow. It was almost half an hour later when you heard Tom try the door, you could almost imagine his face when he realised it was locked, this wasn’t something you’d done even in your worst shouting matches.

“Baby,” he called and you heard his forehead make contact with the wood of the door. “Can you open the door for me? I just wanna hold you, I’m so sorry.” You heard the sadness in his voice, the pure heart break with himself.

“Tom, I just wanna be on my own right now.” You said, it felt contradictory to the argument you’d had but you just wanted to be by yourself at the minute.

“Okay, you know where I am if you need me.” You heard him sigh as he disappeared. It took a while but eventually sleep took over.

**

You woke up to an alarm blaring and Tess barking furiously, it startled you awake as you bolted out of bed, unlocked the door and flew down the stairs. You had to stifle a laugh as you took in the sight in the kitchen, Tom was batting a tea towel across the fire alarm as Tess barked and ran in circles around his feet.

You quickly made your way over to the kitchen door, opening it as Tess shot out, you made your way to the window and opened those too. Tom looked at you with an embarrassed smile gracing his lips as the smoke made its way from the kitchen and outside.

“Sorry.” He said once the alarm had stopped blaring. You laughed as you looked around the kitchen, it looked as though a bomb had gone off.

“What were you doing?” You asked amused.

“Making you breakfast.” He said shyly as he bit his lip.

“That was never gonna be a good idea, unless it was cold.” You teased and he laughed, it was no secret he wasn’t the best cook in the house.

“I’m sorry, I was just, I don’t know.” He concluded as he watched you begin to clean the kitchen. “I didn’t mean to wake you up so abruptly either.”

“It’s okay.” Your heart warmed, you know what he was trying to do and it felt like a small step in the right direction. “I know what you were trying to do.” You said as you made your way in front of him and kissed his cheek. “I appreciate it.” The atmosphere was way better than last night but there was still a sadness in the air.

“You locked me out.” Tom said, voice laced in nothing other than sadness, you felt guilty but you needed to be alone last night.

“I know, I’m sorry. I just, I needed to be alone.” You said, hand on his cheek as you swiped your thumb over it. He nodded, his hand finding your hip as he squeezed it slightly.

“I get it. I’m sorry.” He said as he carefully leant forward and caught your lips in his own, you smiled into the kiss, it felt nice to have everything out in the open, a weight lifted. “I love you.” He murmured as he pulled back, forehead resting against your own.

“I love you.” You smiled before taking a deep breath and looking around the kitchen, lightly patting his cheek with your hand. “We should clean this place up.” You laughed and he nodded.

**

Almost twenty minutes later and the kitchen looked normal again, your laughs filling the kitchen as you tried to work out how he’d done half of the things he’d done.

“Do you wanna go and grab something instead? I don’t think I should try cooking again.” Tom teased and you grinned.

“I’d love to.” You said as you made your way back upstairs to get changed, Tom joining you.

“I’m sorry.” He said and you looked at him, ready to respond before his phone rang. “Hey mate.” Tom said as he placed the phone against his ear, you busied yourself with fixing your hair. “Not today.” He said, you knew he was talking to one of the boys and your heart hammered in your chest, was he gonna ditch you for them again? “Taking Y/N/N out.” He said, happiness lacing his tone. “Maybe mate, I’ll see what she wants to do.” He said, phone between his ear and shoulder as he fixed his belt.

“Been a bit of a shit boyfriend recently.” Tom said and you heard the laugh that filled the speakers, Harrison. “Shh.” You suddenly heard Tom interrupt his friend, “she’s literally right here.” He said and you felt your chest tighten, what could Harrison have to say that you couldn’t maybe overhear? “I will, cheers mate, bye.” Tom said as he put the phone down and placed it in his pocket, you shook your thoughts away as your eyes met his in the mirror. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” You said as he held his hand out for you and you took it as he interlaced your fingers.

You made your way towards your local café, a place you absolutely loved and Tom found endearing, a lovely old lady ran it and it was cheap and cheerful. A stark contrast to the usual places you and Tom would eat, but you loved it here.

“Y/N.” Mary said as you both walked through the door, a warm smile on her face. “You brought Tom too, I feel underdressed for an A-list celebrity to be here.” She said and you giggled.

“You know he doesn’t care.” You said as you hugged her, she was like a grandmother to almost everyone who stepped through the door.

“Thank you by the way, my grandson was over the moon when I took him your autograph.” She said to Tom who smiled, a small blush creeping up his cheeks, he may have been famous but he was forever humble.

You ate your usual and drank your coffee as Tom focused his attention on making you laugh. It worked as he placed some icing sugar on your nose that was on the tip of his finger. You shook your head as you wiped your nose with a laugh. You’d really missed him over the last couple of weeks and you couldn’t be more thankful you’d finally said something last night.

“Tom, I’ve told you before, you don’t need to tip me so much.” Mary said as she watched Tom place a ten-pound note in her tip jar.

“The service was exceptional as always.” Tom shrugged as he placed a kiss to her cheek in goodbye. He used to tip a lot more but Mary had in return started not charging for the two of you to come in, the ten-pound tip seemed like the most she’d accept without throwing in freebies.

“You are a charmer Mr Holland.” She smiled as she hugged you.

“Is he?” You teased and Mary laughed.

“He is, however, he’s lucky to have you.” She smiled as she pinched your cheek. “About time he got down on one knee.” Mary teased and you saw Tom tense slightly, your heart sinking at his reaction, was that not something he wanted?

“Don’t scare the poor boy.” You teased, trying to lighten the mood in your heart.

“Not scared.” Tom said with a smile as he took your hand in his and laced your fingers together.

**

You had an amazing day, went for a walk and talked to each other, it felt nice, normal. You still had a heavy feeling in your heart, thoughts of what Harrison had said that had caused him to quieten him so quickly invading your mind. You tried your best to shrug it off, it could be anything, your insecurities getting the better of you. You were cuddling on the couch watching a film when he suddenly got up.

“Where are you going?” You asked.

“I’ll be back in a minute.” He waved off as he made his way out of the room.

It wasn’t long before he placed himself next to you, envelope in his hand. You furrowed your brows as he handed it to you.

“I know I’m a few days early but here.” He said and you opened the envelope, pulling out two tickets to the Maldives.

“Tom, what?”

“Happy birthday.” He said as he kissed your cheek and you smiled, looking at the date on your ticket, you were set to go on your birthday, a ridiculously early flight time stamped on the ticket. “I know how much you love it there and I wanted to get you something nice.” Tom said and you smiled at him.

“Nice is a bottle of perfume. Tom, this is so expensive.” You scalded and he laughed as he pulled you into his chest.

“Nothing’s too expensive when it comes to you.”

“You cheesy fucker.” You laughed as you kissed his t shirt covered chest. “Thank you. Is that the surprise Harrison wasn’t supposed to ruin?” You asked and Tom laughed.

“Yeah.” Tom lied through his teeth, the actual surprise was currently in his office drawer. The black box hidden beneath scripts he’d been reading over. He was glad that you hadn’t asked about his golf trip last week, it was never a golf trip in the first place, he’d gone to your parents to ask permission, Harry promising to cover if you asked if they’d been together.

**

“It’s gorgeous.” You said as you sat on the decking outside your hut, feet in the clear water below. Tom sat next to you, taking your hand in his.

“Yeah, it is.” He agreed as he played with your fingers. “That’s why I was so caught up with the boys, I wanted to make sure this trip was perfect, we were running through ideas.” Tom suddenly said and you turned to look at him.

“How much planning can one holiday take?” You teased and he shrugged as he placed a kiss to the back of your hand.

“You know me.” He said and you laughed. “The lack of sex though, there was no excuse for that, I’m sorry. My mind was elsewhere.” He said with a small smile and you placed your free hand on his chest as you laid your head on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, you’ve made up for that.” You bit your lip, your legs still aching from the activities that had taken place no less than ten minutes ago. Your thighs, neck and chest covered in marks he’d left, you bit your lip thinking about it as you removed your hand from his chest and traced the marks on your thighs.

“I suppose I should let you in on a little secret.” He said and you furrowed your brows looking up at him. He smiled before standing and bringing you with him. “I’ve been distant because I’ve been planning something.” He said, both of your hands in his. You gasped as he got down on one knee in front of you. “I wanted it to be perfect.” He said as he fished around in his pocket. He pulled the black box from them.

“Tom.” You gasped, heart soaring, you were at a loss for words.

“When you asked me the other day if there was someone else, I was so heart broken. Princess, I’m sorry, I’ve been so stressed about asking you this question, so scared I’ll get it wrong that it sort of took over. I love you more than anything, you are the only woman I’m interested in, I’ve never in my life felt more at home than I do when I’m with you. I have never met someone who understands me the way you do, who’s as supportive as you are. I want to give you everything you deserve and more, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Y/N L/N, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?” He asked and you were both crying, both letting happiness consume you as he opened the box.

The ring was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen, it was all too much, the happiness you felt was too much and you fell onto your knees in front of him, hands grasping his back as you pulled him into you. Head finding his shoulder as you cried into it. He held you close as he too cried into your hair.

You pulled back after a while, looking into his eyes and you swear you couldn’t be happier. That’s what Harrison had mentioned that he didn’t want you to hear, that’s why he tensed in the café, he was probably worrying you’d mention you didn’t want that.

“You gonna keep me hanging?” Tom asked as he wiped at your eyes. It dawned on you that you hadn’t given him an answer.

“Of course I’ll marry you.” You said and he released a breath he’d clearly been holding. He took the ring and slipped it onto your finger, the sun catching it and making it sparkle in the most brilliant way.

He lifted you both to your feet, hand finding your cheek as he pulled you in for a kiss, your hand slipping into his hair as your other held his bicep. He deepened this kiss as he slipped his hand to cup your neck, his other finding the curve of your bum as he squeezed. You giggled as you pulled back slightly.

“Wanna go for a swim?” You asked and he raised a brow.

“Right now?”

“Yeah.” You shrugged and he laughed.

“Okay darling.” He said as he stepped back slightly, he was so close to the edge of the decking that you couldn’t help it. You bit your lip mischievously as you placed your hands on his chest, he looked down at you and his eyes widened, he was too late to act as you pushed against his chest. He lost balance but not before grasping your hands which meant you fell with him, both your bodies hitting the water which made for a large and loud splash.

You both resurfaced, your body gravitating towards his own as you wrapped your legs around his waist, arms loosely hanging from his shoulders. His hands finding your thighs, your hands making their way into his now wet hair, he smiled up at you and pulled you in for a kiss.

“I love you.” You both said in unison, pure happiness filling both of your hearts.

[alwaysmarveling]

Socks

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Warnings: toxic relationships, small mentions of death, gaslighting, fighting, and miscarriage

Word Count: 4k (literally exactly 4k, I’m kinda proud)

A/N: Based on the song “1 Step Forward, 3 Steps Back” by Olivia Rodrigo as suggested by @vancityfire13, I hope this meets all your hopes and expectations <3 also technically this is my first prompt from someone who’s not me??!

You met Wanda at the library. Your legs crossed, eyebrows scrunched, and bottom lip caught between your teeth, you’d settled in the familiar corner of the library's world languages section. That area was always quiet, which you’d found out after many trips to the library as a kid. When the occasional patron did wander through, perusing the shelves, sometimes they brought family or friends, weaving together sounds and syllables that had to be from another language. It was the only sound you’d tolerate while you were immersed in your reading. Well, to be fully honest, you loved it, wondering what the hushed voices were saying, what stories they were telling. So Wanda’s English was a jarring wake-up call.

“I like your socks.” Her eyes flashed to your ankles, leaving you wondering if she was more drawn to the sky blue color or the characters covering it.

You’d noticed the brunette walking the aisles about ten minutes ago. Unlike most, she ran her fingers along the worn spines, seeming only half-interested in what the titles read.

“Thanks.” Your voice was cold, unwelcoming. She gave you a terse nod before heading off, her footsteps silent against the worn carpet. You thought she was gone.

-

A week later, you were back at your spot. You’d finally finished the work you’d been putting off for weeks, just about to reward yourself with a reread of Little Women, a book you’d read an uncountable number of times since you were a child. She was an unwelcome interruption.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but-”

“I was looking for a book for my brother. His name is Pietro. Was Pietro. There was a Sokovian fairytale he always loved. Begged my mother to read it to us every night. He could recite it by memory by the time he was five, knew every word. I thought I did too.” Your eyes traced down the curve of her spine. Your mother would have scolded you for standing so poorly.

“I’m sorry for your loss” was all you said, your lips forming a tight line when you finished.

“I couldn’t- I can’t remember the title.”

“I can try to help you find it?” You weren’t sure why you offered, maybe the lost look in her eyes, the growing strength of her accent as she talked, or the way her fingers traced her empty palms. No one should leave a library empty-handed.

“Do you speak Sokovian?” The corners of her eyes creased as you shook your head.

“I suppose you won’t be much help then, will you?” Her words held no bite, only the sadness of a stranger who was trying to hold herself together, her emotions threatening to unravel her at the weakened seams. You matched her facial expression out of sympathy, but she was gone before you had a chance to apologize.

-

“Do you like Disney?” she had asked you. Her eyes were back on your ankles. You were wearing the same socks as when the two of you first met. You were milliseconds away from answering, your tongue already against the roof of your mouth, ready to shut down the conversation immediately afterward. But then you noticed the way her hands fidgeted in her lap, her fingers always moving, almost like they were dancing. You sighed. You should be nicer; she’d really done nothing wrong.

“It’s alright.” Your shoulders raised and dropped, your answer purposefully vague. “Did you manage to find the book?” The darkening of her eyes was enough to tell you that, no, she hadn’t found it. “What’s the main character’s name?” Her gaze followed you as you pulled out your laptop.

“Boleslav,” she answered finally. Her gaze was timid, unsure. Why were you helping her? You’d been so closed off before. 

“Do you know any major points of the story? The names of the other characters?” Before she could answer, you eyed the pillow that sat next to you. She took a seat.

The two of you poured over Google, eventually finding the story and its location in the library. But by that point, you were too wrapped up in your findings on the Internet to get up. Too wrapped up in each other.

---

Wanda insisted she make it up to you, for finding the book for her.

“For helping me find my brother,” she insisted, pulling you out of the library. If she was anyone else, you would have responded by saying that she could make it up to you by leaving you alone with your books, but she wasn’t anyone else. So you let her tug you out of the building, Mirabelle, the librarian, giving you a wink upon seeing you leaving the building with someone else, soft smiles gracing your faces.

You thought she would’ve brought you to coffee, but it seemed you hadn’t yet developed the ability to understand her. She brought you to the city, a small store on the corner. Socks lined the walls, the different colors and patterns flooding your vision.

“Your Disney ones looked old.” You half-nodded as you scanned the store, your hand going limp in hers. You remembered learning about rods and cones in class ages ago, not quite remembering what each one did but remembering that one of them was involved in seeing colors. Those—whatever they were called—must’ve been on overdrive.

You picked one pair for her, and she, one for you. You wore those socks constantly, slipping them over your feet the second they were out of the wash. You never told Wanda about it, but you didn’t have to; her eyes fell to your ankles every time she saw you, a small smile on her face. You didn’t know if you did it for her reaction or simply because you loved them. Maybe it was both.

---

Wanda drew you into her world. Some might have used the word “yanked” given how quickly your relationship moved. But that made it sound involuntary, as if she’d forced you to move in with her when she’d asked you exactly eight months after your first date. And if you’d known she had powers when you first met her, you might’ve agreed. Maybe she’d entranced you and now you were stuck with her, even if you didn’t really want to be.

But the truth was that you did, you wanted to be with her every second you could. And though magic never left her hands when she was with you, even her name was magic, the way those two syllables rang beautifully in the air as she formally introduced herself for the first time. She spoke English when she talked to you, but you swore that whatever left her mouth was a language of her own, so elegant, sweet, and charming in a way that no English speaker could replicate.

But, one night, her words twisted into daggers, punctuated syllables sharpening into dangerous ends, the beginning of each sentence like a handle she grabbed and used to hurt you further, twist until it was lodged as deeply into your chest as it could go.

You weren’t sure what you did to make it happen. Maybe it was just a bad night. She was drunk, after all, home from some party with the Avengers that you hadn’t gone to. The two of you had talked it over before, though, both agreeing that it was too soon in your relationship to attend anything where it’d be publicly released, which was why you were confused about why she was cursing you out for abandoning her, not being there when you needed her.

You promised that you’d be sure to go next time. Wanda just turned around, dismissing you without another word. You weren’t sure what was worse, the silence or her words. She somehow missed the tears that streamed down your face.

-

The next day, she knocked on your door. This time, she was the one in tears, the rate at which they fell only increasing when she saw how puffy your eyes were.

“I- I’m sorry,” she bumbled, the sounds tumbling out of her mouth like a barrel coming down the Niagara Falls. She couldn’t have stopped them if she tried. You watched her struggle through an apology, something about her insecurities being magnified as she saw all the other couples around her seemingly happy. She just wanted that. And even though her speech was much more clumsy than the usual effortless diction you were used to hearing from her, you allowed her words to draw you in, provide you shelter from the horrors you’d experienced yesterday, when your heart raced and blood rushed your ears and your palms were so sweaty you couldn’t get a grip on anything. You allowed her arms to draw you in, make you feel safe. You allowed her to bring you home.

---

Wanda saw a side of you that no one had ever seen before. Scratch that, Wanda saw all of you. Where others would’ve looked away or missed the true meaning of your words, she dug deeper. You lived your whole life with a mask on, swapping one out for another to appease those around you. Wanda took them all off.

But she didn’t force them off; she made you want to take them off. You were the one who peeled them off one by one, the experience being extremely unnerving every time you revealed that much more of yourself to her, but you always found yourself relieved at the end. Because she accepted you, she loved you.

Right?

---

You called her once, during a mission. It was something the two of you had been doing ever since you started dating. You would ask how she was doing, make sure she was okay, and she’d do the same for you. Of course, when her missions were off-the-grid you didn’t call, but if the two of you were allowed to stay in contact, she insisted that you guys do so.

“I have to make sure my love is okay,” she’d murmured, just before she left for her first mission since the two of you started your relationship. She was holding you in her arms as the two of you swayed back and forth. Your feet were bare for once, the cold kitchen tile underfoot grounding the both of you. Neither of you had wanted to let go; your hands were clasped firmly together around her waist, and hers rested on top of yours. But eventually, the incessant honking from Tony became too much, and the two of you reluctantly moved apart.

“I’ll call you the second I can, yeah? And make sure you call me in the morning when you wake up.”

“I will,” you nodded as Wanda’s hand came up to brush against your cheek.

But somehow she’d forgotten about your agreement, and nothing but annoyance filled your ear, the phone pressed up against it.

“Y/N, I really don’t have time for this right now.” You sucked in a breath, her tone an instant reminder of that night she’d yelled at you. But that was so long ago. And you hadn’t done anything; there wasn’t a party you’d missed since then, not a moment since then that you’d let her feel alone. Or was there?

“I- I’m sorry,” you stuttered. “Should I call you back later?” All you got was a sigh, doubt and panic filling your chest in the momentary silence.

“We’ll see. Goodbye, milaya.” There was barely a pause in between her voice and the disconnect tone. You weren’t sure if the pet name was sincere or a habit leftover from the good times.

Were you still in the good times?

What went wrong?

Where did you go wrong?

-

She came back from the mission, and all was well again. She spun you around and around, her melodious giggles filling your ears and causing the corners of your mouth to lift. But you couldn’t help your brows from cinching inwards, wondering where this Wanda had been when you’d called. Was it just another fluke, or maybe something you’d imagined?

“I love you, printsessa, so, so much,” Wanda whispered. You loved the way her smooth voice filled your ears, made you feel whole again. Maybe it was the kitchen? Was that the place she felt safe, the place where she felt like she could love you fully? Maybe that’s why she seemed so closed off during the mission. When you didn’t respond, too lost in thought, she spoke up again.

“Detka, d’you know you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me? I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Her eyes sparkled. No red mist emerged from her fingertips, but you swore Wanda’s essence was magic in and of itself. How could you ever deny her?

You surrendered.

“I love you too. More than anything in the world.”

---

The next day, Wanda woke you up with excitement filling her voice, insisting that you come with her to the compound to pick up some of the things she’d left behind. 

“I want to show you off,” she’d laughed as she rolled you over.

“We’ve already met, babe. They love me, you’ve said so yourself,” you groaned. She shook her head as she corralled you into the bathroom.

“You haven’t met all of them! Now c’mon, let’s go!” You agreed, and she was right, there were lots of new people there.

“You must be Y/N, right?” You nodded as you shook the man’s hand.

“I’m Clint. I’ve heard, um, lots about you. And your socks.” The two of you laughed at his joke, but something about his chuckle was off. His smile never quite reached his eyes. Wanda whisked you off too soon for you to figure out why though, bringing you over to a rather large man. No, god, he’s a god. Thor, he said. His name is Thor.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you’d responded.

“The love of my life,” Wanda sighed, her voice wispy and dreamy. The god’s eyebrows had raised at that.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you then, Y/N. I didn’t know Wanda was so fortunate as to have a love so strong.” Sometimes you had to remind yourself of that too. “You are very lucky, my friend.” Am I? 

-

You exchanged jokes with Natasha, learned of some of Bruce and Tony’s new projects, listened to stories of Thor’s childhood adventures on Asgard; the night went well. Until it didn’t.

You were yanked into a mostly empty room, the door quickly shut behind you. Was that a flash of red you’d seen in the corner of your eye?

“What did you do?” someone hissed. The voice was familiar, but by this point, you weren’t sure if it filled you with dread or joy when you heard it. Was that part of the excitement of your relationship, trying to figure out the complexities of it all, trying to predict which version of your lover you’d get this time?

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “I didn’t do anything, Wanda, I swear!”

“Then why is Clint telling me to break up with you? What did you say to him?” Your head shook, your whole body shook. This was news to you.

“I didn’t say anything. Please, Wan-”

“How am I supposed to believe that, Y/N? Do you really think he’d just make that up out of nowhere?” You tried to find the words, the ones you should say, the ones she’d want you to say. You had nothing. The witch’s anger grew, her hands slamming down on her sides. “God, Y/N! It’s like sometimes I don’t even know who you are!”

But wait, that was how you felt. Wasn’t it? Or had you dreamed that up too? What had you done?

“Wanda, I promise I didn’t do anything. I’ve been friendly to him all night.”

“So you expect me to believe he’s lying, then.” Your eyes fell to her chest, its rise and fall rapid but deep, going up and down several times before she spoke again. “Y/N, he named his child after my brother. Why would he lie to me?” You could do nothing, say nothing to fix this. You weren’t sure exactly what you did, but you’d messed up. Again.

“Maybe he’s right, then.” Her hand ran through her hair, the brown locks that you loved to twist around your own fingers, play with as she laid in your lap, a show playing in the background. You missed those times.

But weren’t you just doing that last night?

You weren’t sure. It seemed like so long ago.

---

Weeks, months, even a year passed. Wanda had apologized for that night at the compound. She’d also apologized for the countless number of other times the two of you had fought since then. But it was okay, you’d thought, because for all those arguments was an equal number of moments where the two of you laughed so hard you couldn’t breathe, slow-danced at 3 AM, used your hairbrushes as microphones to sing concerts for your millions of fans. At least, you thought it was an equal number. Did number matter anyway?

Wanda went from being your girlfriend, to being your fiancé, to being your wife. Like Thor had said, you were “very lucky.” You are very lucky. Because right now, you’re looking down at the stick in your hand, and there are two lines, not one. The two of you had done something so many couldn’t; that was a huge blessing. And now you had to tell Wanda.

Finding the box was harder than you thought, but the other part was much easier. All you had to do was go to the store Wanda had taken you to all that time ago, the small store on the corner. And when the brunette lifted open the lid to find a pair of socks so tiny they could only be for one thing, one person, one baby, she knew. She was ecstatic. You were relieved.

-

Four weeks. Four weeks later from that day was the worst day of your life. Just as quickly as the baby had come, it had gone. He or she was gone. Was it your fault? The doctor had been quick to shut those thoughts down, insisting that there were many factors that could’ve caused the miscarriage, but you certainly weren’t one of them.

But Wanda didn’t talk to you for a whole week, spending the nights in the guest bedroom to avoid you. It was the longest the two of you had gone without speaking. That had to mean something, right?

It did. It meant that it shouldn’t have been a surprise when you came home from work the following Monday to find half of the things missing. All of her things.

The box was still there, though; you saw it out of the corner of your eye. It sat on top of a cabinet, the two socks poking out of the top.

The two of you had fallen in love with those tiny socks faster than you’d fallen in love with each other. They held so much love, so much promise. But now they were empty, devoid of anything they might’ve held just hours before. They were nothing more than a painful reminder of what could have been, what should have been. Meanwhile, your own socks were still on, the same ones Wanda had given to you on your first date. You weren’t sure you could take them off if you tried. Was that a reminder too? Did it have significance?

The ticking of the clock suddenly caught your attention. You had been standing at the doorway for thirty minutes, but what were you supposed to do? Were you supposed to go somewhere? Where would you go? Wanda was gone, not leaving any clue as to where she could’ve run off to, and you were alone. 

When was the last time you’d been truly alone?

Didn’t you use to like being alone?

You grabbed your keys. You weren’t sure what you were looking for, but whatever it was, you wouldn’t find it here.

-

You push open the door, always the one on the right. Walk twenty or so steps through the entrance, turn left. Take another left, then walk-

It was different. Completely different. The shelves weren’t the same color, metal had been swapped for wood, the carpet was new; what had happened?

“Y/N, sweetie, is that you?” Mirabelle’s voice. At least she was still here. You turned to face her, taking in her wrinkled face, the tortoiseshell glasses that had been perched on her nose since you met her as a child. “Oh my goodness, it is! We haven’t seen you in ages. We were all so worried.”

“Wha- what happened to the library?” Her kind smile flipped, her lips separated with their corners turning downwards.

“We got a renovation at the end of last year, honey. Didn’t you see it on the news?”

“Right,” you nodded, swallowing again, trying to push down the lump that had been growing in your throat for over an hour. “Um, where’s the world languages section?”

“Upstairs, love. Take two rights and you’ll see it. Enjoy your visit, okay?” You nodded again, pressing your lips into a wavering smile that Mirabelle accepted.

You found the section easily enough, pushing yourself into one of the beanbags that crowded the floor. It was quiet—you supposed not many people came to the library on a late Tuesday afternoon—but something was missing.

No, that wasn’t it. Nothing was missing. Everything had changed, and you couldn’t settle yourself no matter how hard you tried. You couldn’t recognize the white walls or the large windows that surrounded you. You couldn’t recognize the book in your shaking hands; the title read “Little Women,” but it lacked the comfort and familiarity it once brought you. You couldn’t recognize the artwork that hung on the walls, the large signs suspended from the ceiling.

You caught a reflection in the shiny metal of a book cart that lay several feet away from you.

You couldn’t recognize yourself.

When you finally left the library, Mirabelle frowned as she watched you exit the doors, not stopping to check out a book like you always did. No one should ever leave a library empty-handed. You’d forgotten that too.

---

She came back less than a week later, her cheeks tear-stained and her eyes rimmed with red as she stumbled her way through an apology.

“It was a mistake, detka, I promise. I made such an awful mistake, and I’ll never forgive myself. I won’t blame you if you don’t forgive me either.” You stared at her, neither your eyes nor your mouth moving as you tried to take in what she was saying, tried to come up with an adequate response.

Which had changed more, the library or you?

“Please, you’re the only thing that matters in my life. I can’t lose you.” The melody of her once-full voice was broken, the chords fragmented and notes falling out of tune. It was as broken as you’d felt for the past few days. Maybe she understood. But you couldn’t think anymore because you were suddenly in her arms again, her tears soaking your shirt as she sobbed.

The library had been renovated, its modernity and welcoming environment being a major improvement to the once somewhat dilapidated building. You had slipped, your feet wrapped in the socks Wanda had given you as you stumbled down the dark, crooked hallway of your life, trying desperately to get a hand on the wall, grab a solid footing.

You had two options: save yourself or fall.

“Please, Y/N, please. Promise you’ll stay.” 

You fell backwards, your head being the first to slam into the floor.

“Of course I’ll stay, Wan. I’d never leave you.”

You weren’t sure if you’d ever get up. After all, changed or not, what’s a library without its books? Who are you without her?

-----

🏷 : @007giu

[5sospenguinqueen]

PULL ME BACK FROM THE DARKNESS ~ CATO HADLEY

PLOT: You and Cato fill in the missing pieces of each other. 

Warning: smut, m/f, hints at PTSD and depression, slight breeding kink if you squint, slight size kink.

I am not responsible for what media you choose to consume. If you cannot handle the contents of this or are too young, please do not read. It is your responsibility, not mine. 

________________________________________________________________

Wet strands of hair dripped down your back as your fingers nimbly worked at braiding them away from your face. Not yet fully dressed, you leant across the sink to gaze into the small mirror to see whether the top of the braid was flat. A click resonated throughout the room and you couldn't help the smile that sidled its way onto your face as the thudding of heavy footsteps filled your ears. The hulking figure of the man who had been your rock filled the doorway and you connected eyes with him through the mirror. Rough fingers replaced your hands as he smoothed out the tangles in your hair and expertly twisted the strands together. Once he was done, you couldn't help but admit that he had done a better job than you would have done yourself. Reminding you that he had younger sisters who he'd been forced to practice on, he pressed a kiss to the side of your head before stripping for his own shower.

Sinking your teeth into her lip, you heard him exclaim in shock when the water came out cold instead of the usual lukewarm. Guilt made its appearance once more when you realised you had used up the hot water for the day. Plopping down onto the mattress, you closed in on herself as the memories that had plagued you all day took their toll on you. For so long you had been fighting – fighting for survival, fighting other children, fighting your own mind. Whilst your hands were no longer covered in blood, they would never be cleansed of the innocent lives you had taken.

Pulled from your thoughts as a bare chest entered your view, you bit her lip at the towel slung around his hips. How it didn't drop any lower was beyond you but you found herself almost willing it to slide down. Leaning into his touch as he placed his hand on the side of your face, you looked up at him through your lashes.

"Rough day, baby?"

You remained silent, relishing in his strength for a moment or two. All you wanted was to lie down and wait for the fight to pass. To wait for the moment when her mind would fall blank and the memories would cease to exist. Eyes connecting with Cato's, you realised you had disappeared inside your own head once again. Concern was written across his face until you reassured him that you were present in the room and not back in the arena. Both of you had spent too long plagued by the chaos that had followed you out of the arena. Thankfully, one of you was always there to be the tether to reality. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop Cato from looking at her as if she was one crack away from irreparable. 

"Stop," she demanded. "I'm not weak enough to crumble from one bad day. I’ll get through it, just like I get through the rest.”

"Sweetheart, I never meant-."

"No, I know exactly what you meant. The next Games are fast approaching and my nightmares are coming on faster and darker but so are yours. Snow didn't break me. I'm not some fragile little doll that needs to be hidden away whilst the pieces are glued back together again. I am perfectly mentally capable of mentoring the next lot of tributes without having a breakdown.” 

"Indie, this isn't about me thinking you're not strong enough, this is about me not being strong enough! How can I look at these small children and send them to their death. I've already had to deal with losing them before."

Falling to his knees, Cato buried his head in your lap and allowed the tears to fall. Whispering soothing words, you ran your fingers through his blond strands. Teardrops slid down your own cheeks as you watched the strongest person in your life fall apart. Cato had been there for you since the moment you had been reunited after your were rescued from the arena after cutting down all those in your way. He had been there to catch you every time you stumbled. Watching him feeling so hopeless shook you and although you felt like curling up next to him and giving in, you knew it was your time to be there for him.

"Listen to me, we've made it through death and we've made it through separation. Baby, I am just as scared as you but I know that we're going to get through this together. We haven't made it this far just to lose now. You and me, together, Cato. Forever."

"You don't deserve this." Cato sniffled, brushing away his own tears. "You've been through so much, lost so much, I'm supposed to be there for you."

"Cato, I'm your partner, it's my duty to be there for you. We fight together or we don't fight at all. Don't forget that we're from Career Districts. We're always strong and we never lose. We will not allow these next Games to strip away the strength that we have left."

"Well maybe, for one night, we reward ourselves with the luxury of being weak. Just tonight, let's forget about this stupid war and just wallow in our pity. Please?"

And maybe it was the broken look on his face, the sadness swirling in the sky blue eyes, or the fact that forgetting about the future Games was all you wanted to do, you granted him the only thing he had ever asked of you. Snuggling into his comforting (still bare) arms, you allowed yourself to cry about your own pain. The tears that fell weren't for the fallen and all they had left behind, they weren't for the deaths of the future children you were about to witness, these were purely for how mentally exhausted and rundown you felt. Soft lips kissed away your tears. One warm hand rested on the cool skin of your hip, having slithered its way under the thin shirt you slept in.

With a small inhale, you pressed your lips to his whilst your hands snaked their way into his hair. Salt mixed with the taste of his tongue but you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer. A rumble echoed in his chest as his length pressed against you and he straightened, yanking you up with him. Spinning you around, Cato backed you up until you hit the wall with a bump. As his lips trailed down to your neck, you rested your head against the wall, back arching when Cato sucked on the sweet spot just below your ear.

"I love you," his lips traced the words down to the valley between your breasts before he wrenched the top over your head and threw it behind him.

Left hand reaching up to palm at your breast, his mouth wrapped around the nipple on the other one, tongue flickering over the hardened bud. Your breath hitched and you used your foot to deftly push the towel down and finally reveal what had been hidden from you. Exclaiming in shock, you scowled when Cato chuckled against you. When you reached down to grasp him, he gently bit your nipple but the action forced your hips against his and with one roll, he brushed against your clothed clit.

"Off," you begged, lifting your hips slightly away from the wall so that Cato could slide them down your shaky legs.

Fingers dancing along your legs, he reached down to cup your heat and one finger slid between your wet walls.

"I will never get sick of this," he groaned, watching as you bit your lip in pleasure.

Thumb rubbing your clit, he added another finger, watching as they plunged in and out of your slick heat. His name tumbled off your lips as your pleasure increased and Cato knew that that would be his favourite sound. If there was one sound that could banish the nightmares and dispel the darkness, it would be you crying his name as you tumbled over the edge, coating his fingers. Panting slightly, you pushed him away, revelling in the confused look on his face.

As you sunk to her knees, lust clouded his blue eyes until they were as dark as the sea in District Four on a stormy day. Hand wrapping around the base, you smirked as he hissed when your tongue licked a stripe from balls to tip. Mouth wrapping around his tip, you moved down ever so slightly before pulling back up. Hollowing your cheeks out, you sucked gently on his tip and was rewarded with a throaty groan as Cato bucked his hips, pushing his cock deeper into your mouth.

"So good to me, baby." Cato cursed, hand resting on your head as he pushed you down a little more.

Humming around him, you gagged when he jerked slightly and his dick hit the back of your throat. One hand gently fondled his balls and Cato swore before pulling himself away from you.

"As much as I love your mouth wrapped around me, I'd rather put my cock somewhere else."

Shivers skittered down your spine as his husky words were whispered in your ear and you found yourself being pulled of your knees before you were shoved against the wall face first. Large hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise and you smiled knowing Cato remembered just how you liked it.

"Always so tight for me," he grunted as he slid into you.

Cheek pressed against the cold concrete wall, you whimpered as your walls adjusted to the girth of him. Teasingly, he slowly entered inch by inch until his impatient girl backed up and enveloped the entirety of him in one quick movement. One hand braced on the wall, small grunts escaped his mouth as h thrust gently into you. Lips pressing a gentle kiss to the scarred back of his hand, you rested your head against his hand in a loving gesture. A primal instinct ignited in Cato at the sight of his partner so small and vulnerable, as you let down your guard and opened yourself up to him both emotionally and physically. The woman beneath him was always so strong and fierce that he couldn't help the dark chuckle that escaped as his body encompassed yours entirely as he pressed you further into the wall.

"Such a good girl. Take me so well," he praised, enjoying the little pants that left your mouth and with a shift of his hips, he coaxed a scream from you.

Unable to help the moans that tumbled from your mouth, you reached down to grab the hand that gripped your hip and pulled you against his cock. Love swelled within him as you held on tightly to him, begging him to go faster as you pleaded for her impending orgasm.

"I love you," you cried as stars exploded across your vision and your walls clenched him tightly.

At the feel of your orgasm, Cato burrowed himself in deeper and pounded harder into your sensitive walls.

"So close, Princess." Cato gasped, his breath hitting the back of your neck as he leaned down to rest his chin on your shoulder. Pressing a kiss to the side of your neck, his movements quickened as he sought release.

"Cum in me," you begged.

Not one to deny the woman he loved, Cato called your name as he stuffed himself inside you, hot cum painting your walls. Sensitive to his touch, you leaned back into his chest as his arms came around your waist and pulled you in for a loving embrace. One hand wrested flat on your belly as he whispered promises of having their own family but in a world where the Hunger Games didn’t exist. Naked and wrapped around one another, you could pretend for just a moment that you were a normal couple whose only issues were what to eat for dinner and how many children you wanted. Whimpering as Cato pulled out of you, you watched him wander into the bathroom in search of a washcloth.

Hand resting on your own abdomen, you wondered whether you would have end up with child. And, for the first time in your life, you found herself hoping you would. Struck by the aching pang within you, you realised that the life you had built with Cato had made you realise just how badly you craved a perfect family with the man you loved. In a world where they grew up safe and never needing to learn the ways to kill another person. 

________________________________________________________________

Loosely based on a scene from my Cato x OC story but details have been adapted to avoid spoilers. You can find the book Pugnator at;

Wattpad

Fanfiction.Net

[stayatiny]

Little Dolly Chapter 6~ Yandere Seonghwa

(Gif made by me)

Pairing(s) – Killer/Yandere Seonghwa x Virgin! Reader

Series warnings – Violence, Daddy kink mentions of murder, TW- beating, swearing, blood, smut and lose of virginity (later on), yandere behaviors, Stockholm syndrome (seriously this is darker than my other fics. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read.)

Chapter Warning(s) –Daddy Hwa again, mentions of family troubles, mostly plot for this chapter

Tagged Lovelies - @mirror-juliet @aikyubi @babybunnyalien @mingkisbitch @chonsayeosang @jodidan @cheline @hapapino-cake @ateezsadist @t4elor @soft-teddybear Please let me know it you want to be tagged or if I have forgotten to tag you.

I sat in the office chair again, staring at the door. I went back to working on emails and looking at marketing material. Its already past seven pm. I logged off and walked over to the door. I cracked it just enough to see how she was doing. I see that she is fast asleep in the middle of the floor. She curled into a ball, hugging her knees. I let out some relief and shut the door again. I go to the kitchen and get some food ready for myself. The kitchen was lifeless. Was my life really like this before Y/N was with me. I knew my life was dull but never anything like this.

When I wake up, my body is so much pain that I could hardly move. I whine as I try to turn on my side. I reach out for the bottle of water and sit up slowly, my mouth dryer than the desert. I chug the water until it was empty. I lay the bottle to the side when I hear the door open again. Seeing Hwa with some soup.

“Here, eat this. It’ll help. I also brought some pain killers for you.” He set the try of food down. I nod. He gave me the medicine first then watched me eat. I started to eat slowly waiting for the meds to kick in.

“Do you need help?” For the first time I looked him in the eyes.

“Please daddy,” I say with a little blush on my cheeks. I still wasn’t used to calling him that.

“Alright open up,” he said, scooting closer to me. I open my mouth as he fed me. We stayed in silence for while only hear the spoon clank. When the bowl was empty, Hwa set it down on the floor.

“I’m going to keep you in here for another day to make sure this lesson sticks. I shouldn’t have kicked and hit you as bad as I did but let that be the punishment,” he says. He stands and gets ready to leave. I grab his pants leg.

“No please don’t leave me alone. I’ll be a good girl,” I beg. Even after being in here for half a day, I didn’t like the silence or the loneliness.

“Let go of me little girl,” he growled. A few stray tears fell as I let him go. He turned his back leaving the room, shutting me in again. I wipe away my tears and then lay back down on the floor. Tomorrow can’t get here fast enough.

The next morning, I feel the chain on my ankle loosen. My eyes immediately open to see Hwa. He helps me up and into his room.

“What did we learn?” He sits me on the bed and pulls my shirt up enough to look at the bruises and marks that he left.

“Never to run away from you again.” He smiles and kisses my forehead.

“Good girl. Here lay down in bed for a little while. I’ll be in the office if you need me. Get some rest,” he says leaving the room. He leaves the door open this time. I hear him talking on the phone while I sit on the bed. I decided to get up and hobble to the bathroom. I use the toilet and brush my teeth. Hwa comes back in.

“Are you hungry? I’m thinking about ordering some food,” he asks. I nod and then walk over to him. I lay my head on his chest. I missed him being his normal self and not being angry with me.

“I told you to get some rest. Here lay down until the food gets here,” Hwa says helping me back into bed. I sit in the middle of the king size bed and snuggling a pillow. We haven’t spoken very much other than short sentences and yes and no answers.

“I know but I wanted to brush my teeth before laying down.” Hwa smiled a little and sat on the edge of the bed.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how hard I hit you until I saw your bruises this morning,” he apologized. I chew on my bottom lip. I didn’t actually expect him to tell me he was sorry for what happened.

“It’s alright. I shouldn’t have run away. Even if I did get away with it, I don’t know where I was going or wanted to go. My parents aren’t the greatest people to begin with and the rest of my family aren’t much better.” I hug my knees while speaking.

“Why do you look so down on your parents?” Hwa pulled the rest of his body onto the bed sitting crossed legged.

“When I was growing up, my older brother and sister were twins that could get away with everything. My brother became an actor while my sister became a nurse. There’s several years between them and me, fifteen to be exact. When I was born and up until I was thirteen, I was the baby of the family but once my siblings started getting recognized for what they did you could tell that they were the favorites of my parents. Nothing I did mattered to them. That’s when I left and moved here,” I explain.

“Sounds like a rough time,” he says, patting my leg.

“It wasn’t so bad. My older siblings kinda raised me. My parents were always so busy with their jobs that they weren’t really around much to begin with. My siblings didn’t like that I was moving here in the first place, and they wanted me to stay with them in America. They hated the attention that our parents gave them over me.”

“Why not go back when times got hard? Why not go back home with them?” I scoff.

“I didn’t want to go back home a failure when I didn’t have anything accomplished. I would have never heard the end of it,” I say leaning against the headboard.

“Well, what would they say when we get married,” he asks. Oh, right we are supposed to be getting married.

“They might actually care since you are a CEO of a big marketing company,” I say. He nods in agreement. That’s when the food gets here. He runs to the front door getting the pizza. I stare down at the comforter. I’ve never really told anybody my family history, but he made it so easy to talk about. I hear Hwa coming back in with the pizza on two plates and some drinks. I smile and made room in the bed for him to join me. He then turned on a movie. I snuggled down into the covers and ate.

“Are you comfortable?” I nod and continued eating. He smiled and ate quietly. After eating, I lay my head on Hwa’s shoulder.

“Tired?” I shook my head. I felt okay for the most part besides the pain I sometimes felt. He kissed my head and got up.

“Alright I need to work for a little bit. I want you to stay put. Don’t give me a reason to put you back in the room,” he said, grabbing my cheeks.

“Yes daddy,” I whisper. He kisses me then leaving the room. His office is right next door. I continued to watch the movie and wait for Hwa to get back. I’m bored so I started to loosely braid my hair.

“Are you bored, little dolly,” he asked, leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom.

“A little bit. Usually, I’m always working. I never really had time for hobbies or even to watch tv,” I say. Hwa shakes his head and then brings me my sketch book and a pencil.

“Here, I found this in your bag when I took you that night,” he said. I smiled.

“I thought this was lost forever.” I smile hugging the book to my chest.

“It looked important and its not like you can contact anyone with it.” I nod and open it to the landscape I was working one before I was taken. I loved drawing. I wanted to be an architect when I saved enough money.

“That’s beautiful, Y/N,” Hwa said, sitting on the bed again. I blush.

“Thank you. I never let anyone see my drawings before.” The awkward feeling setting in again. I bit my lip as Hwa watched me.

“Stop biting your lip it’ll be sore.” I blush again. I hear his phone ringing in the office. He groans and runs off to answer it. I’m shading some mountains when he returns.

“Yes mother. We’ll be there tomorrow for dinner. Yes mother. Love you too. Bye.” He hangs up the phone looking defeated.

“Is everything alright?” I put down the book and pencils.

“No. We are going to have dinner with my family tomorrow night. My father wants to meet you,” he says. I took a deep breath.

“Is that good or bad?” Hwa looked at me.

“I haven’t quite figured that out yet but all I know is no matter what he says I’m still marrying you even if we have to go to the courthouse,” he says, pulling me into a hard kiss. No turning back now…

[dysfunctionalcrab]

babysitter

pairing: georgenotfound x reader

pronouns: gender neutral

description: george is left to babysit your niece

warnings: mentions of a future family? just in case that makes you uncomfortable.

[y/n/n] - your nieces name

[y/s/n] - your siblings name (gender neutral too)

note: i’m not too sure about this imagine, please a like or reply if you actually enjoyed! - niss

you woke up to the sound of your alarm blasting your ear off, if you hadn’t turned it off right there you probably would have gone deaf.

george was sleeping like a baby beside you, you could hear his quiet snores. you were surprised he didn’t wake up to the sound of your ear-piercing alarm.

turning on your phone, you glanced at the time that read 12:30. you sighed in annoyance as you registered that you only had half an hour before you had to be on your way to university. so you got up and began your normal morning routine, brush your teeth, shower, have breakfast and finally get dressed. however, as you were packing your bag, almost ready to go, you received a notification from your [sibling]

[y/s/n]: we’re 5 minutes away!!!

[y/s/n]: thank you so much for agreeing to do this :)

fuck.

it completely slipped your mind. you had promised to take care of [y/n/n] for today, your 7 year old niece, while your [sibling] was at their job interview. regardless, you texted them a quick ‘no problem’ before rushing upstairs to wake up george.

he was still sleeping, but now he was completely hiding under the covers with one arm sticking out. you hated to interrupt his beauty sleep but this was more important. you began to shake him awake.

“babe,” you shook him

“wake up,”

“george,” you removed the covers off his face

“wake the fuck up!” you started poking his sides. usually, you would be a little less... harsh, but you were panicking.

finally the boy rose from his slumber, groaning and stretching all his limbs. he blinked a couple times before meeting your eyes

“good morning,” he said softly, as if he completely just disregarded your tone of desperation and worry.

you pulled him by his arm and he sat upright,

“you need to get up right now,” you told him

“what’s going on?” he questioned, clearly confused as you weren’t giving him any context

“you need to take care of [y/n/n] for today, i have classes today, and i need to leave in 5 minutes and [y/s/n] has a job interview and there’s nobody else to take care of her,” you rushed out all in once sentence.

“are you serious?” he narrowed his eyes at you. “you know how bad i am with kids, especially [y/n/n] , she hates me,”

that was partly true. unfortunately, your niece wasn’t exactly fond of george. ever since you even started dating,m, [y/n/n] acted cold towards your boyfriend, it only got worse when you moved in with him. she always refused to play a game if george was going to participate, or never accepted any high fives or hellos from him. you felt sympathy for george. this child despised him and now you were asking him to look after her.

“please, i’m begging you,” you looked at him with pleading eyes. his eyes softened up after recognising the urgency of the situation.

“fine,” he agreed. you sighed out of satisfaction that you didn’t have to stress out [y/s/n] over finding a new baby sitter.

“thank you so much,” you pressed a small kiss to his lips appreciatively.

right at that moment, you two heard the doorbell ring. you urged george to get ready as fast as he could while you went down stairs and greeted your [sibling] and your niece.

“auntie/uncle [y/n]!” [y/n/n] yelled as you opened the door, immediately rushing into your arms. she looked a lot taller than the last time you saw her

“how’s my favourite girl?” you picked her up and swung her, before placing a little kiss on her head

you gave your [sibling] a quick hug. they handed you a bag full of toys, teddies and colouring pens, along with a spare set of clothing just in case [y/n/n] got a little messy throughout the day. and some quick reminders about her favourite foods or how to get her stop crying. you’d looked after her before, so all of it was pretty familiar to you

“again, thank you so, so much, you have no idea how much you’re helping me.” they told you. your [sibling] gave [y/n/n] a kiss on the cheek and told her to be a ‘good and kind little girl’ before finally exiting the household.

george, at last, made his way down. wearing a decent pair of jeans and a hoodie, giving an awkward wave to [y/n/n]

you checked the time and knew you had to get going. you had to explain to her that uncle george was going to be the one looking after her today. and after one whole tantrum, you managed to convince her to be a good girl by promising to give her a big reward afterward.

finally, you kissed [y/n/n] and george a goodbye , then shut the front door behind you.

george and [y/n/n] stood opposite each other. there was an uncomfortable silence in the air. george felt so...he didn’t even know. what do you say to a child who hates you? [y/n/n] tightly clutched her bag of toys.

“so, [y/n/n],” george cleared his throat, he bent down to her level. “i hear you like toy story?”

[y/n/n] pouted “i don’t like you” she said, and stomped away.

george sighed. this was going to be a long day.

and it was.

-

it started off with [y/n/n] innocently using her colouring pens and drawing random things, you know, as children do. but when she ran out of paper, she made her way to your office, where all your uni work was. she grabbed the closest piece of paper that was sitting on your desk, deciding it was going to be the next canvas for her art. this paper just happened to be a very important assignment.

when george caught her in the act, he had to physically tear her away from your office, in defiance of all her kicking and screaming.

-

then, when george accidently left the door to your shared bedroom open. [y/n/n] waddled in without him noticing, she started playing with all of his devices. his computer, his microphone, and somehow she got a hold of his headphones, and took out the battery. george didn’t realise until he noticed the cover missing. he tried to ask her nicely where she threw the battery. but she insisted that she wasn’t going to give it back unless he stopped being ‘mean’

-

when lunch time rolled around, george put a pizza in the oven, he remembered clearly that [y/n/n] loved pizza, specifically pepperoni. nothing could go wrong here.

but when he called her to the kitchen so she could receive her lunch. she just stared blankly at the pizza, and then at him. she crossed her arms

“[y/n] usually makes a smiley face with the pepperoni”

george just felt all his will to live just disappear

-

coloured pens and toys were spread out all across the living room floor, [y/n/n] was sitting in front of the tv, george put on one of her favourite shows which thankfully distracted her for a bit, allowing him to relax. he pulled out his phone and texted you

to [y/n] <3 : help me please

to [y/n] <3: i cant take this anymore, i’m literally dying rn

to [y/n] <3: come home quick

he exhaled heavily, throwing his phone to the side. he was so exhausted.

[y/n/n] was roleplaying with her toys, making them move around and doing squeaky little voices. george smiled at the innocence

“purple bear doesn’t play with us anymore. princess giraffe, mr. george took her away from us,” she spoke in a high pitched voice

george’s ears perked up. how funny that she had a teddy named ‘mr. george’. curiously, he watched the little girl.

“koala george, is a meanie, he stole purple bear and now they don’t want to hang out with us!”

it didn’t take a genius to find out what [y/n/n] was displaying through her role playing teddies.

that was why she didn’t like george. before they got together, [y/n] mentioned they almost spent every weekend with [y/n/n], playing with her and having fun with her.

she felt abandoned by [y/n] and felt as if george had taken them away from her .

george felt at fault as he noticed the girls eyes started to water.

“does purple bear love us any more?” she continued to play.

george decided it was enough and he switched off the television. he joined [y/n/n] on the floor and grabbed the teddy that was supposedly ‘koala george’

“[y/n/n]” he spoke softly. the little girl looked up at him expectantly. he held up the teddy.

“is this supposed to be me?” he questioned her.

“that’s a koala bear,” she answered

“no-, [y/n/n],” he said. he thought about how to ask her, and just chose it was best to be flat out with the child,”

“did i steal auntie/uncle [y/n] away from you?”

the question took her by surprise. she gazed at him with big wide eyes. she thought about her answer and grabbed the purple bear, which was supposed to be you.

“they don’t play with me as much anymore, they’re always with you, because of you, they don’t love me anymore,” she pulled a face, it wasn’t angry, it wasn’t annoyed.

it was a genuinely sad face.

george was sure he physically felt a pang of guilt in his stomach. he never even comprehended the fact that a child could feel so rejected.

“listen... [y/n/n],” he said gently. he thought about his words. comforting someone wasn’t exactly his strongest point, particularly not a child who detested him “[y/n] will never stop loving you, okay? they love you very much, and i’m sorry you feel like i stole them ”

[y/n/n] continued to listen.

“but don’t forget that [y/n] has so much love to go around! look, they love you, and they love me, they love grandma and grandpa too! they will always love one another even if they can’t see each other often,”

[y/n/n] stayed silent. she fiddled with the purple teddy, folding its ears and patting its head. she loved that bear. it was actually gifted to her by you, when she was first born. she brought it to her chest and hugged it. george tried a different approach.

“listen, how about- this weekend, we can all go to the park together, and have a picnic. you, me, [y/n], and your parents too,”

she continued to just stay silent. george didn’t know what to expect, she was unpredictable, was she going to throw another hissy fit? or start to cry? he wasn’t sure

“can we also get ice cream?” she asked

george smiled and felt himself relax. thank god. “all the ice cream you want,” he told her

[y/n/n] stood up and giggled. like her whole entire mood did a whole fucking 180. “okay! let’s go play dress up now!”

———

7:45 pm. you finally arrived home. you were tired out of your mind. [y/s/n]’s interview was delayed by two hours and was currently half way back home, meaning you had enough time to spend with [y/n/n]

you unlocked the door, expecting to see a giant tsunami of toys and colouring pencils and pens, but what you saw was the most heart warming thing ever.

george was sleeping on the couch, his head resting on the armrest. he had a couple pink bows in his hair, his lips were painted a hot pink, he was wearing a couple sparky bracelets and a purple floral necklace.

in his lap, [y/n/n] rested her head, she was wearing a fairy costume with matching pink bows and sparkly bracelets.

you quickly snapped a photo of this wholesome moment. because, who wouldn’t? you spent a few minutes just watching the two sleep, they were probably just as tired as you.

moments like these made you really appreciate the people you had in your life. the people you love so dearly much.

you didn’t want to disrupt the ambience but you felt it was better for your [sibling] to collect your niece when she wasn’t covered in glitter and an overload of pink accessories.

you quietly woke george up,

“baby, wake up.” you shook him awake, gently. in a very different way than you did this morning. he opened his eyes. and immediately smiled upon seeing your face. you ran your thumb across his cheek

“it looks like you two had a lot of fun,” you teased.

he quietly chuckled. “she’s okay,” he told you. looking down at the little girl sleeping in his lap.

you slowly and carefully picked her up, removing any accessories you thought may seem uncomfortable to sleep in. she was a heavy sleeper.

you carried her upstairs, tucking her into you and george’s bed and placing a kiss upon her forehead. you turned back to george and rushed in for a bear hug

“thank you so much for doing that,” you said. “i love you so much, i know it probably wasn’t easy, she can be quite the handful,”

george chuckled. “handful is an understatement,”

“you’d better be willing to dress up like that with our own kids one day.” you stated, hugging him tighter.

his face broke out into a small smile, having thought of an image of you two playing with you future kids. he kissed top of your head and then your nose

“maybe one day”

———

masterlist

[disturbedbydesign]

The Widow and the Wolf - Chapter 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x dark!exWidow!reader

Summary: After Natasha Romanoff took down the Red Room, the former Widows scattered to the wind. Raised to be a killing machine and released into the world with nothing and no one, you decided to use your newfound autonomy to take down the bad guys of your choosing. But now Natasha is riddled with guilt for leaving you on your own. She wants to recruit you, rehabilitate you, make you part of a team again. But the rest of the squad has reservations, and no one is more against you than Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Graphic violence; Mentions of domestic violence, rape, pedophilia, human trafficking, child sex trafficking; eventual Dubcon (not Bucky); eventual smut; slow(ish) burn enemies-to-lovers. [More warnings will be added as necessary but these are the Big Bads.] 18+ only, no minors.

A/N: This is canon-adjacent in that I just decided to pick and choose who I wanted to write for and what parts of canon I wanted to use. Best not to think too hard about where it falls on the timeline because the canon is a mess and we all kind of hate it anyway.

If you prefer to read on AO3, you can do so here.

Chapter One

You’ve been tracking him for days, not that it was hard. His patrol schedule is always the same, as is his after-hours routine: drinks at the Irish pub on Reade Street with the other boys in blue. It’s a cop bar but you waltz right in, looking lost even though you know the name, rank, and various misdeeds of every guy in the place. He looks at you, because of course he does—his wife assured you that he has a wandering eye, among his other sins.

You take a seat at the bar. “Double vodka rocks, please.”

The bartender pours you your drink and you take a deep pull, savoring the burn of it. Then you wait, but it doesn’t take long—it never does. Sergeant Thompson sidles up to the barstool next to you.

“Hey darlin,” he says, his breath reeking of cheap beer. “You lost?”

You turn to him with an innocent smile. “Evening, officer.”

“It’s Sergeant,” he says, tapping his badge, “but I won’t hold that against you. So, what’s a pretty young thing doing in a dive bar with a bunch of old men?”

“I was supposed to meet a friend for dinner but she bailed on me. Figured I’d grab a drink before I head home.”

“And where is home?” he asks, not that it’s any of his business, but cops think they deserve answers to any questions they feel like asking.

“Williamsburg,” you lie.

“You’re pretty far from home, then,” he replies, even though you both know that you aren’t. He takes a sip of his beer and the foam leaves a trace like a mustache before he licks it clean. “It’s late. Why don’t you let me drive you? Wouldn’t want you on the subway this time of night.”

“It’s only 8:30,” you say. “I think I’ll be just fine.”

He leans in conspiratorially. “Well, I really shouldn’t be telling you this—open investigation and all that—but we’ve been on the lookout for a guy in the area, serial rapist, real nasty piece of work.”

That’s one thing the two of you have in common at least.

“I’d feel a lot better if you’d let me take you home, darlin.”

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” you admit. “Can’t get much safer than the NYPD, right?”

He laughs and so do you, knowing that nothing is farther from the truth—especially when it comes to this guy.

Sergeant Thompson speeds across the Williamsburg Bridge with his flashers on, headed toward the address you gave him. Of course, that’s not actually your address—you don’t have a home anymore—it’s just one of many rundown warehouses in the neighborhood, variously used for impromptu raves and as drug dens and, in your case, a private place in which you can take care of business without fear of being interrupted.

“This is me,” you say, waiting for him to let you out of the back of the cruiser where he insisted you ride—caged in like a helpless animal, or so he thinks.

“This place?” he asks. “Looks like it’s about to collapse.”

“You’d be surprised what they can do to these places on the inside—gentrification and what have you. My rent is astronomical.”

“Still,” he says, “I’d like to walk you up. Looks a bit unsavory.”

“If you insist, Sergeant.”

The second you get up the stairs to the top floor, you inject him with the etorphine, straight into the jugular, and down he goes. It never gets old—how easy it is, when they think that they are the predator and you are the prey. You drag him into the loft where you’re already set up for a long night’s work.

When he comes to, he’s fixed to the chair with (among other things) his own handcuffs, mouth taped shut and a rag shoved in for good measure. You don’t want to hear him talk; it’s time for him to listen. His day of reckoning has come. He starts to squirm but between the cuffs and the duct tape and the sedative still coursing through his veins, he’s not going anywhere. Even if he did get free, you could take him down easy. It’s what you were trained for. It’s what you were born for.

“Welcome back, Sergeant,” you say, and he screams something unintelligible through the rag which, if you had to guess, would be some combination of “cunt” or “bitch” or any of the other choice words he likes to use on his women.

The tarps are laid meticulously around the room, placed strategically to catch any and all evidence of what you’re about to do. When he notices them, he goes still, because he knows. Part of him knows.

“So,” you say, pulling out the Thompson file, “this is quite the impressive resume you’ve got here, Sarge. Lots of civilian brutality complaints, including a few choice allegations from female prisoners. Oh, and then there’s the domestic violence and marital rape. You’re a real charmer, huh?”

There’s more muffled screaming but you ignore it—the last gasps of a dying man.

“Here’s the thing, Sarge. I know you think that you’re above the law, because you are the law, but you aren’t. Your wife is real tired of your shit, and me? Well, let’s just say that my motto is protect and serve.” You lean in close enough to smell the salty sweat on his brow. “And unlike you, I actually mean it.”

You pull your favorite knife from your thigh holster and slit him from ear to ear. “See you in hell, Sergeant.”

You sit on the edge of the table, swinging your legs and watching him bleed out. It doesn’t take long. The actual disposal is the real work. You set about chopping him into manageable pieces and you find yourself missing the days when you didn’t have to cover your tracks alone, when there was a clean-up team to take care of it for you.

But you’re freelance now. You’re not a Widow anymore. She made sure of that.

Sometimes—like right now, when you’re dripping sweat and every muscle in your body is screaming its exertion as you saw through bone after bone—you hate Natasha Romanoff. You know why she did what she did; you understand that, objectively, it was the right thing to do. But did she ever stop to consider the repercussions of her actions? She got out early and found a new family and became one of the Good Guys. But you? You entered the Red Room with nothing and you left with nothing.

They always said you were born to be a killer. It’s all you’ve ever known. So what exactly did she expect you to do? You may be free of the mind control, but you never had the chance to develop a mind of your own. Killing is all you know. At least now you get to pick your own targets.

Once you’ve got Sergeant Thompson all squared away, you pack him up in the trunk of his cruiser and drive upstate, listening to the 80s station you like. It occurs to you that most people have heard these songs a thousand times—so many times that they know the lyrics instinctively, can sing them without even having to think about it. It’s all new to you, though. You can’t decide whether it makes you sad to think about all you’ve missed or whether you’re lucky that you get to experience for the first time what everyone else is already tired of.

When you get to the farm, you dump Thompson in the holes you’ve already backhoed, then you hop on the Cat and fill them all in. You shoot a text to Mrs. Thompson from your burner—just a thumbs-up emoji—and she replies with a smiley face. It was only so long before he would have killed her; she knows it as well as you do. The only people that will grieve the dearly departed Sergeant Thompson are a bunch of assholes who are one false move from ending up in your web.

You didn’t charge Mrs. Thompson your usual rate—just what she could afford without drawing the attention and ire of the Mister. Sometimes, depending on the circumstances, you even work pro bono. After all, you only kill people for money who you would happily kill for free. You consider it a service, something for the greater good of society. You’ll take money, sure—you need it to live and to continue your work—but not from people who can’t easily spare it.

You have standards. You have a code. That’s the difference between the you that served as a mindless weapon wielded by others and the you that decides for yourself how to use the gifts you’ve been given. No women. No children. No collateral damage. Only Very Bad Men who’ve done Very Bad Things. You don’t see the harm in it, not really, and as you settle into bed you come back to the thought you often have before a fitful night of sleep: who’s the real avenger, Natasha?

*****

Natasha wipes her brow and throws the rag down on the mat, grabbing a bottle of water and chugging half of it before she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Bucky has barely broken a sweat from their morning sparring session, and he doesn’t even try to fake it. He’s in an especially grumpy mood.

“This is a bad idea, Natasha.”

“To some people, maybe,” she says, “but I want to bring her in anyway. I don’t understand how you of all people are against me on this, Bucky.”

“Uh, for starters, she’s a serial killer.”

“That’s a bit of a harsh assessment, considering the circumstances. And do I really need to remind you that the same could be said about the two of us? That a lot of people still say that about us?”

Bucky sighs, because he knows she’s right, but this is different—you are different. “It’s not the same,” he grumbles, but he’s not entirely sure it isn’t, and that’s what’s really bothering him.

“Look,” Nat says, taking a step toward Bucky, “I need to try, ok? I know what she’s going through because I went through it, except she’s completely alone out there with nothing and no one. You and I… we had people behind us, helping us.”

“And what if she says no?” Bucky asks. “Are you just gonna let her go on doing what she’s doing? She’s killed… how many is it now?”

Natasha mutters something under her breath and Bucky looks at her expectantly. “What was that, Tasha?”

“25 people in the last 6 months,” she states, her mouth set in a hard line.

“Exactly,” he says.

“I would like to point out that they were all very bad people. So...”

“Tasha,” he says, and he puts his hand up to silence her. “I can’t help you on this. I’m sorry. I want to, but I can’t.”

Natasha huffs out a laugh. “You know what, Barnes? You’re real high and mighty for a guy who–”

Natasha stops herself when she sees the ice-cold look in Bucky’s eyes. “Go on. For a guy who what?”

“Nothing,” she says. “I’m sorry. I’ll go on my own.”

“Well, good luck to you. Hope you don’t get your throat slit.”

Bucky stomps off and Natasha is left wondering if she’s about to make a huge mistake. She knows you’re volatile, that a part of you must resent her, but she needs to make it right. At the very least, she needs to try.

Natasha grabs her tablet and scrolls through the latest intel on your whereabouts. She’s just missed you in New York, but she thinks she’s got a jump on your next target: some coke dealer down in Miami with a predilection for underage girls. Just a brief glance at this guy’s file is enough to make Natasha’s blood run cold. She knows why you do what you do. If she’s honest, it doesn’t bother her one bit that you’re doing it. It’s the thought of you out there on your own, filled with hate and anger and thirsty for bloody vengeance, that frightens her. Because maybe one day—left to your own devices, lost in the chaos of your troubled mind—getting the Bad Guys won’t be enough for you. Maybe you’ll decide that some of the Good Guys aren’t so good after all. Maybe you’ll even be right.

She contemplates being honest with Steve and telling him where she’s headed but decides against it. Steve isn’t on board with her plan. Natasha doesn’t fault him for it—he doesn’t understand, he couldn’t. Bucky, though... that’s a disappointment, and it surprises her. If anyone knows what it feels like to spend your life as someone else’s weapon, it’s Bucky Barnes.

Natasha waits until nightfall to “borrow” the Quinjet, and she finds Bucky waiting for her when she gets to the hangar.

“I’m coming with you,” he says, “but only as back-up. She’s dangerous, Natasha.”

“Maybe so,” Natasha replies, “but only because she’s afraid.”

*****

You knew that she’d be coming for you sooner or later. Might as well get it over with. Your little stilt cabin on the outskirts of the Everglades isn’t quite set up for company but at least it’s tucked away and difficult to access. You’re surprised she brought him, though—that was a mistake. You and she could have a nice long conversation, but you have nothing to say to the Soldat.

You climb up the tree to your lookout platform and hoist your sniper rifle onto your shoulder, following their slow but steady progress through the knee-deep swamp water, trying to line up a decent shot as they weave in between the bald cypress trees. When you see your chance, you take it, and you put one about an inch from where the Soldat’s metal arm meets the flesh of his shoulder. It ricochets off, as intended, and he jumps forward to shield Natasha. You hear her laugh through your earpiece.

“Relax, Barnes. It was a warning shot. If she wanted to hit you, she would have.”

“She did hit me,” he snaps.

You smile as you descend from the tree to meet them.

“Well well well,” you say. “If it isn’t the Murder Twins. To what do I owe this unwanted visit?”

“You know why I’m here,” Natasha says.

“Yes,” you reply, “but why is he here?”

The man she calls Barnes looks at you with disdain and you give it right back to him. You can tell that shot in the arm really pissed him off and it pleases you to no end.

“He’s just watching my back,” she says. “That’s what happens when you’re on a team.”

“Right, The Avengers. How adorable.”

“Listen,” Natasha begins, but you stop her.

“Let me save you the trouble of whatever little speech you have prepared. I’m not coming with you. I’m not going to Widow rehab and joining your ragtag group of misfits. And I’m not going to stop doing my work just because you come here and bat your eyes and smile pretty at me.”

“Your work?” spits the Soldat. “Is that what you’re calling it?”

“Bucky, don’t-”

“Let him talk, Romanoff,” you say. “He obviously has some… opinions. Now that he’s got the mask off, he can finally speak for himself.” You take a step towards him, your rifle in hand but not pointed at him. “So speak, Soldat.”

He looks flustered and not a little bit angry. You can tell he doesn’t like to be called by that name. “Killing people isn’t work,” he says.

You huff out a laugh. “And what is it that the two of you do, exactly? Run a coffee shop?”

“We are not the same,” he says, and you smile because you know that he doesn’t actually believe that—how could he after everything he’s done?

“I think we are exactly the same, Soldat, with one huge exception: you’re still letting other people tell you what to do, and I’m done with all that.”

“This is pointless,” he says.

“Now that is something you and I actually agree on.” You turn to Natasha. “You should go while you still can. I have work to do.”

But Natasha just won’t let it go. “I should never have left you alone,” she says. “This is my fault. Let me fix it.”

“I don’t need to be fixed,” you snap, and you raise your rifle and point it directly at her head. “Leave, Natasha. And take your little pet with you.”

The Soldat grabs her arm gently. “Let’s go, Tasha. She’s hopeless.”

You feel a pang of something then—some indescribable form of melancholy. You try to keep it off your face but you can tell from the look in his eyes that he sees it. A minute tremble of your lip, the quick double blink—it gives you away, and now you’re really pissed off.

“Leave. Now,” you yell, and it pierces through the sweltering darkness. “I’ll make you sorry if you don’t.”

You watch Natasha and the bionic man make their way out of the swamp. You don’t turn your back on them, not that you think they’ll try to take you by force. That would be unwise and Natasha knows it. Once you’re satisfied that they’re gone, you return to the cabin. The bloodied man in the linen suit lays strapped to the bed where you left him, squirming and shouting around the gag in his mouth.

You have to stop yourself from making this a messy affair, but the anger you feel—at her, at him, at everything—is making it difficult to temper your darker urges. You’re not one for torture, even though this man absolutely deserves it for the horrible things he’s done. You almost give in, but you remind yourself that this is a job—it is work, despite what the Soldat may think—and you have to remain professional.

You grab the man’s file off the desk and pull a chair up next to the bed. “So, Mr. Garcia, where were we?”

CHAPTER TWO >>>

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Ch. 16: Summertime Nightmares (Alt prompt: Consolation/advice)

AO3

Prev

The following week was the last of the school year. And it was...weird to say the least. Some of her classmates were upset that she hadn’t been the one to tell them. Many of them (most) assumed that she’d known and just hadn’t told them. She didn’t want to argue with them and she knew her dad hadn’t announced her existence in Gotham yet, so she just pointed out the fact that the Wayne family was very private.

That mostly worked. Lila kept poking though, insisting that Marinette would have told them if she trusted them. Nino disagreed, which shocked Marinette. He usually believed Lila, or at least he hadn’t ever openly gone against her before. But not this time. This time, he insisted that Marinette trusted them and it was probably her dad who asked her not to say anything. While wrong, Marinette didn’t disagree. She’d let her dad take the fall for this one. Alya though...she wasn’t taking it well. She thought Marinette should have told her ages ago. If she had known before Lila came, maybe she would have told Alya. But Alya had been more lax on what she posts on the Ladyblog since Lila’s arrival. She’d done less research, and was posting things not related to Ladybug and Chat Noir. While that wouldn’t usually bother her, Marinette did not want her newly discovered family to be the next big story on Alya’s blog.

So she basically just kept her head down, kept quiet at the class hangouts. And now school was finally out for the summer. It would be a little over two months with no Lila. Breathing out a sigh of relief, Marinette walks into the bakery and smiles widely at her Maman and Papa.

“Hello honey, how are you?” Her Maman asks, sliding a croissant into her hands.

“I’m fine, Maman.” She says, mentally preparing herself to ask what she’d been avoiding. Her dad had offered to let her stay in Gotham for the summer. It was both a chance to bond, and a chance for him to train her a little so that she could fight better, help her make a case against Hawkmoth, maybe even find his identity. He also wanted to give her a break. He thought that taking a step away from Paris, from always policing her emotions, was in her best interest. She agreed, but she still hadn’t talked to her Maman. Or her Papa.

“Bruce called.” Her Papa says. Marinette freezes. He wasn’t supposed to call yet! “Asked if we’d made a decision about letting you go to Gotham for the summer.” Rats.

“I was gonna talk to you guys today! I didn’t wanna upset you. I love you guys so much, but I also really wanna spend time with the other half of my family because I just met them and we haven’t really had a chance to bond or get to know each other and-”

“Honey, we understand.” Her Maman says, cutting off her ramble with a smile. Marinette blinks.

“Really?” She asks in a small voice. She didn’t want to hurt them. Her Maman smiles and relief floods her body.

“Of course honey. It would also give you a chance to not deal with constant akuma attacks.” She says. Marinette squeals in excitement, running over and wrapping her parents in a hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She yells. Watch out Gotham, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Wayne is coming back!

---

“Why hasn’t Marinette answered yet? She’s always down for a class picnic.” Alya says with a pout. Lila suppresses an eye roll, opting instead for a worried frown.

“Do you think she’s mad at you?” She prompts, knowing exactly why the little brat wasn’t answering. She was supposed to be on a plane right about now. Lila had borrowed Alya’s phone the day before (to make sure Marinette hadn’t tried to say anything about her again) when she saw the text. Marinette would be spending the entire summer in Gotham.

Lila, in a moment of what was surely pure excellence, deleted the text. It was perfect! Alya wouldn’t know Marinette had left and Marinette would be waiting for a text from her stupid BFF. But Lila had thought of that too. She’d changed the phone number on Marinette’s contact in Alya’s phone. It was now set to go to a fake number in a messaging app that Lila spent €1 on each month. It was worth it though, it’d definitely come in handy before. And now all she had to do was wait. Sure Marinette could always text Alya first, but Lila had heard too many times that Alya usually reached out first. Probably because of how much of a scatterbrain Marinette is.

“Why would she be mad at me?” Alya asks with a nervous smile. Hook, line and sinker. Lila frowns and places a hand on Alya’s arm in a faux attempt at reassurance.

“I didn’t wanna say anything, I really shouldn’t.” She says, shaking her head.

“Please. I’ll owe you one!” Alya insists, just as Lila had hoped. This would be a key part of her plan later on. Once Marinette has been silent for a few weeks.

“Well...okay. I heard her talking to Adrien the other day.” Lil starts, using the only other person who could go against her (but won’t!) “She said- she said she couldn’t trust you!” Alya flinches back as if she was hit.

“She said that?” She asks in a small voice. Lila nods sadly, celebrating on the inside. She’d be able to use this summer, while Marinette is away, to finally take everything away from that no good brat. It would be glorious.

---

Marinette was moments away from committing a murder. She was only going to do it because she knew for a fact that she’d get away with it. With a singular pout, she’d have the world’s greatest detective on her side. She was certain of it.

“Miss Marinette please put down the knife. I assure you prison is not lovely this time of year.” Alfred says with a sigh as he walks into the kitchen.

“Then tell Dick to get out of the kitchen!” She complains, pointing at her oldest brother who was currently covered in frosting and flour. She was trying to make cupcakes for after dinner, since she knew how much Dick likes sweets. She was trying to do something nice. And when Dick came into the kitchen, claiming he just wanted to spend time with his baby sister, Marinette let him stay. Because she loves her brother, she does.

But somehow in the two minutes that he was in the kitchen, he managed to dump the entire canister of flour. Not good, but she’d already baked the cupcakes so it wasn’t the end of the world. But then somehow, he’d managed to dump the entire mixing bowl of frosting. The entire thing. She had no clue how he had managed to do that, considering the fact it was frosting. It didn’t exactly run smoothly out of a bowl. It’s supposed to be able to hold its shape. Honestly, it was a mystery.

“Master Dick, you know that you are not allowed in the kitchen.” Alfred says with a frown. Dick pouts.

“I just wanted to spend some time with Mari.” He mumbles. Marinette almost regrets wanting to kill him. Until she watches as he wipes some of the frosting off of his head and eats it. Yeah, she doesn’t regret it anymore...but she does still love him.

“Okay, we’ll definitely have to spend more time together later. But for right now please go take a shower or something. I need to make more frosting and I do not trust you to be in the room when I do.” Marinette says exasperatedly. Dick sighs but leaves. Marinette puffs out her cheeks, giving Alfred a look.

“Yes?” He asks, his lips quirked up slightly.

“I honestly don’t know how you deal with them sometimes.” She grumbles before grabbing a new bowl. The cupcakes aren’t going to decorate themselves.

---

Jason huffs, annoyed that he’d been talked into staying at the manor with Marinette. He wasn’t mad at Marinette, he would do just about anything for the kid. Didn’t mean he wanted to stay at the manor just to make sure she didn’t sneak onto patrol. She’d assured them that she was too tired to try anything, but Bruce hadn’t believed her. Thus, Jason stuck at the manor.

But the kid had made a shit ton of cupcakes and Jason had a copy of his favorite book, so the night wouldn’t be too bad. After a few hours lounging in one of the rooms near Marinette’s, Jason starts to nod off. He’s about to welcome the rest, knowing everyone would be back from patrol soon, when he’s yanked from sleep by an ear piercing scream. Shit.

---

Marinette blinks as she looks around. Oh god. No, no please don’t let this be real. She chokes out a sob as she looks around her. Paris was once again completely underwater. The Eiffel tower was split in half. Hands shaking, she glances up and sees the moon. Or, what’s left of it. She moans in distress, letting her tears fall freely. She tries to breathe, but it won’t come. She’s panicking now, trying to ignore the burn in her chest as she sees the disaster around her. The terror around her. The destruction. She clutches her throat, trying to force her body to breathe. Force herself to suck in air, to be okay.

“Oh, Marinette, I see you’ve decided to join us again.” A familiar voice says. She tenses, slowly turning and looking behind her. Standing in front of her, just as she remembered him, was Chat Blanc. She should’ve known. She should’ve known that just because it was okay for a couple days didn’t mean it would stay okay. She should’ve tried harder to find Bunnix, should’ve tried to find a way to stop Adrien from finding out. Movement by Chat Blanc’s feet catches her attention and she glances down, regretting it immediately.

“What have you done?” She asks, rushing forward and falling to her knees, desperately trying to stop her little brother from bleeding out. “What have you done?” She yells, glaring at Chat Blanc through her tears. Her hands shake as she puts pressure on the wound, using Damian’s cape in an attempt to stop the blood.

“Marinette-” He tries to say, and she just shakes her head, hating that there’s blood coming out of his mouth. She knows what that means. She knows that this is bad. And there are no hospitals anymore. Everything is underwater. Everything except the three of them.

“Hey no, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay, I’ve got you little brother.” She chokes out, trying to smile at him.

“Father,” He manages to say, his voice barely audible. “Help him.”

“No, no, please. Please don’t leave me! Please, no, no!” She screams, trying to wake him back up, trying to force him to get back up. He couldn’t die like this. He couldn’t die at all. She just found him. And now she’s lost him.

“Now we can be together forever Marinette.” Chat Blanc says, finally speaking up. She glares at him and his stupid smirk. The smirk that had haunted her since the first time she saw the white suit.

“I don’t want anything to do with you! You killed my brother!” She screams. Glancing down at her shaking hands, she can’t help but notice they’re covered in blood. She shudders, trying hard not to throw up.

“Brothers, actually.” He quips. She snaps her gaze back to him.

“What?” She hisses, standing so that she can hopefully run and get to one of her brothers before it’s too late. She can’t lose all of them. She can’t. He casually steps to the side, revealing her other brothers. But none of them are moving. Cass is also lying with them, but she’s not moving either. Gone. All of her siblings. And it was all her fault. She let Adrien know her identity. She didn’t try to fix that mistake and this is what happened. She lost every- her dad. Damian said- She turns and runs away from Chat Blanc, scanning the horizon and trying to stay as together as possible. She had to try. She could still save her dad. She could still help him. As she looks around, she manages to spot his cowl. Rushing towards it, she lets out a sigh of relief.

“Marinette?” He says, looking at her with a frown. She scans him for injuries, relieved that he just had a few small wounds. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed.

“I’m so sorry dad.” She whimpers, throwing her arms around him. He holds her for a moment before pulling away.

“Marinette, we have to go. We can’t stay here. It’s only a matter of time before-” He stops talking and his face morphs into the most horrified, anguish filled face that Marinette had ever seen. Right before he starts to crumble into ash.

“No!” She screams, horror and grief washing over her in waves. She was all alone and it was all her fault. And now she was going to die too.

---

“Come on Pixie, wake up kid. Come on, it’s okay, I’m here. Jay’s here.” A familiar voice soothes. Marinette stops thrashing, coughing slightly as she realizes the loud noise had been coming from her. She’d been screaming. Jay’s here? But then- She immediately opens her eyes, sobbing in relief when she sees Jason looking at her. No blood. Okay. She lunges forward and wraps her arms around him, sobbing into his chest.

“I’m sorry.” She cries. “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh kid, you don’t have to be sorry. It’s okay. You’re okay.” He whispers, holding her close. They sit like that for a few minutes, until a knock on the door frame makes her reluctantly pull back. She glances over and a new wave of tears immediately appears. She launches herself off the bed and runs into her dad’s arms, sobbing once more.

“Jason, what happened?” He asks quietly, she knows that Jason doesn’t know, but she doesn’t answer for him. She can’t. All she can do is cry in her dad’s arms, relieved that she could cry. That her nightmare didn’t end with her almost being akumatized like it had before.

“No clue. Heard her scream so I ran in here, but she was asleep. Once she woke up she started crying and apologizing.” Jason says softly, probably for her benefit. She tries hard to remind herself that the nightmare didn’t mean anything. Her family wouldn’t be hurt because of her.

“Is everyone okay? Damian and Tim and Dick?” She asks, still buried in her dad’s arms. She’d ask about Cass, but she was still in Hong Kong. Marinette made a mental note to text her later.

“Everyone’s fine. Did you- do you want to talk about it?” He asks, and she almost agrees. Maybe it would be better to finally tell someone about Chat Blanc. To share that burden with someone else. But...maybe not her dad. Especially not since Adrien actively knows her identity and she wouldn’t be opposed to dating the boy in the future.

“I- er, um.” is all she manages to say before shaking her head. She won’t talk to her dad about this, and she doesn’t want to leave his arms right now. Not while she feels safe. She can almost hear him whispering to Jason, but she knows he’s trying not to let her hear, so she ignores them and instead wraps her arms around him tighter.

“Can I go get you a glass of water? Maybe a cookie for Tikki?” Her dad asks after a few moments of whispering with Jason. Marinette frowns. She didn’t want to be left alone. Not yet.

“I’ll stay with ya Pixie Pop.” Jason says, almost as if he had read her mind. She nods, giving her dad one final squeeze before walking back over to the bed and climbing up, letting Jason wrap her in a hug.

“I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.” Her dad says before walking away. The silence only lasts a beat.

“You wanna tell your big brother why you woke up screamin’?” He asks. Marinette squeezes her eyes shut, desperate to get rid of the images from her nightmare.

“Nightmare.” She says simply. Jason chuckles.

“Kinda figured that part out Pix.”

“I’ve had it before.” She starts, aware of how her voice shakes. “But this time it was a lot worse. This time, I wasn’t the one who died.”

“What could be worse than dyin?” Jason asks, though she can tell by his tone that he knows. He knows what’s worse than dying.

“Watching all of you die.” She says simply. His hug tightens and she lets out a shaky breath, desperately wiping at her tears. “That’s not even the worst part Jay.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t wanna.” He says softly.

“I know.” She says. “A version of it has happened. In a different timeline. That’s the worse part. Luckily when I had to go save that timeline, I didn’t know you guys. So you weren’t caught in the middle of everything. But in my nightmare, since you know about me and- and you guys just wanted to help but no one can win against that. No one. It was so hard to beat him when it actually happened. But the dream. It was awful.” There’s silence as he just holds her, lets her know he’s there without saying it. She’s so thankful for her family. For her brothers.

“Here’s your water.” Her dad says. She finally sits up and looks at him, noting the way his face is creased in worry. She manages a small smile.

“Thanks dad.” She says, her smile growing slightly as his face begins to relax.

“Mari! You’re still up?” Dick says, walking into the room. She blinks at him in confusion, not expecting him to just walk in. She watches as he looks between everyone else, clearly putting it together that something was wrong. He frowns, before his face stretches back into a grin. “Come on, bring all your pillows and blankets and we’ll have a Disney movie marathon until we fall asleep.” He directs, running out of the room to presumably get his own materials for the movie marathon.

“You don’t have to.” Her dad reassures her, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. She shrugs.

“Might as well. I know I’ll definitely not be able to sleep anymore tonight.” She says, grabbing a couple pillows and her blanket, dragging it with her to the movie room. Leave it to her brothers to have a way to help her feel better after a nightmare. Marinette smiles to herself, once again relieved that she was in Gotham.

Next

Masterlist

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @mizzy-pop @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @jaybird-and-co @jumpingjoy82

[flareish]

Attention Required

oikawa x reader

summary: Oikawa fights for your attention over your work by any means possible. That fight becoming literal as he even gets punched in the face for you.

genre: Fluff

word count: 1.3k

warnings: food is mentioned but not graphically

a/n: I can’t believe I haven’t written anything for him yet! Oikawa was my first crush when I started Haikyuu. Now I just love everyone

masterlist

“Ahhh are you still working?” The voice startles you and you turn to see Oikawa stood in your bedroom doorway. He wasn’t supposed to be done with practice for another few hours? You look at the time on your laptop to see that practice was well over. It had even gotten dark outside and you never noticed. Yikes, that was scary how have you been working for this long and still have so much left to do. 

“Oh yeah,” You look away embarrassed at how absorbed you got, “I just have to finish this little bit up then I’m free.” Spinning back to your computer, you shake off the weird feelings that your time lapse gave you and jump back into your working trance. 

Oikawa was a little annoyed that you didn’t even give him a kiss but he let you off the hook and threw himself on your bed. 

He tried to occupy himself, he really did, but an hour had passed and you were still working. If you’ve been working all of his practice then you probably haven’t eaten yet! He immediately got to ordering food.

“Hey Y/N, I’m ordering food what do you want.” He called from the bed.

“Yeah.” You absentmindely said over your shoulder.

“I said what do you want.” Who answers a question with “yeah”? He was seriously not impressed with the lack of attention. Although, this was sure to do the trick so he just held in a little longer.

“Hmm? Oh that sounds good.” Oikawa just stared at you for a minute and contemplated everything. His whole life. Your relationship. Everything. It didn’t matter really though because he knew exactly what you always order. He surely thought that food would divert your attention but here you were twenty minutes later the food arrived are you were still working. 

“Look what I got!” He basically yelled, smug since he knew that this was your absolute favorite.

“Hmm. Oh you should have said you were ordering food, I already ate.” You said before going back to your laptop.

Oikawa was speechless. Boy, your lucky he loves you because he is ready to tackle you right now. So maybe this wasn’t going to be as easy as he expected but who is he to back down from a challenge. He pouts as he muches on his dinner, planning his next move.

He’s got it. Who can back down from his killer flirting skills!

“Y/N.” He whispered in your ear. Hands creeping up your shoulder and down your chest. 

SCHMAK!

He just stayed there for a minute. A red handprint on his cheek. His head turned to the right from the force of the blow. 

“Omg Oikawa! I am so sorry I totally forgot you were there,” You jump up immediately and inspect his face, “You scared me half to death.” Wanting to scold him for scaring you but you felt too bad since you did just hit him in the face. You really hope this doesn’t bruise or his fan club will have you on the stake within the hour.

This wasn’t exactly the outcome he had expected but at least you are no longer working. 

“It’s fine. It was an accident after all.” He flashed one of his classic smiles. 

“There should be a first aid kit in the bathroom cupboard. You should put something on that so a bruise doesn’t come out.” You say as you gently run your fingers across the aggravated skin. 

It’s not until he is in the bathroom does he realize you are not there with him. He goes back to your room and see that you went back to working. Seriously!? How can he top getting basically decked in the face. If that wan’t enough to make you pay attention to him, then what was?

He is now back to laying on his stomach on your bed just staring at you. A piece of paper catches his eye and he stretches half off the bed, nearly falling off, to grab it. He rips the corner off of it and crumples it into a little ball. Then he launches the tiny ball across the room and at you. The paper gently hit you and sticks in your hair without you realizing. The next one lands on your shoulder and falls into your lap.

He waits for a reaction. Nothing. So he crumples another ball up and tries again. Each one falling way too close for you not to realize. 

This behavior is strange it is usually him who acts like this. That’s when it clicks. He doesn’t know how he missed all the signs, ones that Iwa has yelled at him about so many times. Obsessing. Whatever you were working on had completely consumed you that you forgot about basic things such as the time and food.

He sets the scrap of paper down and stands up. His mind is set, he knows exactly what he has to do. 

All of the sudden you go flying backwards as someone pulls your chair out and you with it. You let out a yelp, most definitely not expecting that. Then you get kind of scared because who would do that. Then you remember Oikawa was there.

“Seriously?! I’m almost done can’t you just let me work.” You scold, pretty annoyed at the interruption.

“Nope.” That is all Oikawa gives you before you are hurled up from the chair and over his shoulder.

“Let me down!” You yell flailing around, hitting his back. He pays you no mind. 

“No can do.” He says before throwing you on the bed. This wasn’t one of those cute tosses you see in the movies, this was straight up a WWE throw down. Although, you kind of had that coming after you decked him. 

“Wait,” You suddenly please, trying to puppy dog eye him. He stops and looks at you, waiting for you to continue.

“Just let me finish off the last little but.” With that he glares at you and forces you under the covers.

“Yeah right. Thats what you said five hours ago!” Once he has wrangled you under there, luckily you had changed into PJs as soon as you got home, he straight up lays on you. Full body weight squishing you, preventing you from wriggling out the bed and back to that damn computer. 

“Fine, I’ll just wait until you leave.” You try and turn your face away from him but its kind of hard with him lying on you. 

“Who said I am leaving?” He challenges. You turn your head back to him in confusion. There is a smug grin plastered on his face that makes you want to smack him. Again.

“Ha! Mom will kick you out-” 

“Wanna bet? Your mother loves me.” He’s got you there. Knowing your mother she would just giggle and leave you two be. Damn Oikawa and his charm. With that you are out of options and just surrendered to him. Once he has confirmed that you aren’t going to pull a fast one on him, he rearranges you guys to a more comfy cuddle position. One where he isn’t crushing you. 

“Sorry for not paying attention to you.” You grumble face hidden in his chest.

“Huh? What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you.” He teases. You pull back and glare at him.

“Don’t make me hit you again.”

“Ahh so mean.” He whines. 

“Sorry about hitting you also.” You are back to grumbling in his chest.

“Oh that the things I do for your affection.” You roll your eyes but you can’t help your smile.

[tiredb0igivemesugars]

Burning pains

Summary: Tony's son (y/n) goes out for the day with Peter but bad luck always seems to find the pair

📝Words📝: 2k

⚠️Warnings⚠️: mentions of monsters, hospitals and descriptions of burn marks and pain

💙Pairing💙: Tony Stark!dad x reader!son also reader and Peter Parker friendship

📎Note📎: This is just a dream I had a few nights ago with some slight changes. No beta.

It was exceptionally hot that day. You couldn’t even lay in bed for as long as you wanted because of how sweaty you were getting. ”Wanna grab lunch today?” Peter had texted you. You smiled at the text before sending a ”1 PM sound good?” He replied quickly with a thumbs-up emoji. You took a shower before getting dressed, already cursing to yourself because you knew how sweaty you were bound to get.

”Morning,” you mumbled as you entered the kitchen, seeing your dad there with Bruce. ”I believe it’s day since it’s already twelve,” your dad snarked. You flipped him off inconspicuously and grabbed juice from the fridge since it was too hot for coffee. You sat down at the table. You sat opposite your dad, Bruce sitting next to him. They were both working on something on their laptops as they drank coffee. ”Any plans for today?” Your dad suddenly asked. ”Lunch with Peter and then some errands,” you mumbled into your drink. ”Drink lots of water since it’s hot outside and try to stay cool,” Tony instructed.

The warm breeze hit you like a truck as you stepped outside. It felt like someone had just blown their breath in your face after eating something with beans. You felt like gagging. You walked at a brisk pace towards the subway, only noticing that you wouldn’t make it if you didn’t run. You picked up your pace, trying to make it on time. You panted as you tried to breathe properly. As you jogged down the stairs, the air got significantly colder, making you feel better. Of course, your sweat would turn cold and make you shiver but you’d take anything instead of the hot sweaty you’d had to endure for the past hour or so. You held onto the sidebar as the subway moved forwards, again, it was hot. People were all fanning themselves with leaflets, their hands and their clothes.

Your next stop was announced from the PA. It was again a little colder once you left the carriage. Your hand left your side as you walked out. You pushed through the people blocking your way and made your way up. The sun greeted you as you made your way up. You felt a new trail of sweat make its way down your back, you sighed in annoyance. The street smelled like food and sweat, not a combination one usually liked and you didn’t either. Not too far away, you saw Peter. You picked up your pace to reach him faster but didn’t fully pay attention to your surroundings. So when you bumped into that man you just quickly apologised and continued walking.

Peter greeted you with a hug. ”It’s hot today isn’t it?” He made small talk. You just nodded, a pain slowly increasing within you. Peter opened the door to a cold diner, the air hitting you in the face like a truck. You sighed in relief. ”What are you having?” He asked as he eyed the menu. ”I’m not too sure. It’s pretty hot out so maybe nothing too heavy,” you spoke, your voice wavering as you tried to mask your increasing discomfort. ”Hey, are you okay?” Peter asked, clearly noticing your discomfort. You sighed as you massaged your rib. ”Yeah, just feeling some discomfort that’s all,” you explained with a fake smile. Peter asked you a question, which you didn’t have time to answer before the whole building shook. Peter’s eyes looked over your shoulder towards the glass window where he could see the street. Right at that moment, the glass exploded into millions of tiny pieces. You ducked as best as you could as you felt the shards of glass hit your back.

You could hear people screaming as the ground shook again. New York didn’t have earthquakes but maybe there was a first for everything. But then there was the roar, the roar of something foreign. Peter ran outside, ”Peter wait!” You yelled as you followed him outside. And there, at the end of the street stood a tall figure, a figure as tall as a building and almost as wide as the street. Its eyes glowed like fire and as it roared, entire buildings shook and windows shattered. People were screaming and crying, calling out for help. The monster roared again and then it stomped, sending the asphalt flying in the air. A woman ran down the street in your direction, pushing a stroller forward. You watched as the woman ran till she fell, her stroller still rolling forward. You ran to help her, not missing the now sharp, almost paralysing pain in your chest. You helped the woman stand up and brought the stroller closer to her. That’s when you saw the child standing in the middle of the street, crying and calling out to his mommy.

”Hey let’s find your mommy,” you said to the little boy as you hoisted him on your hip, almost crying out from the pain. The child cried more. ”Can you see where your mommy is?” You asked the child spinning around slowly so the boy would see his surrounding better. ”Mommy is asleep,” the boy said as he pointed at a woman laying down on the sidewalk, not too far from you. ”Okay. Let’s get you somewhere else and then I’ll go get your mommy too?” You asked the boy, already running in the opposite direction of the monster. ”Daddy!” The boy suddenly yelled as he pointed to a tall man, calling out the name ”Charlie” over and over again. ”Is that your daddy?” You tried to confirm as you pointed at the man. The boy merely nodded. ”Hi is this Charlie?” You asked the man who was furiously looking for his kid. The man nodded and furiously thanked you. You now ran back to that street to help out Peter who, too, had taken it upon himself to help the civilians.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, it was your dad. ”Please tell me you’re nowhere near that street,” was the first thing he said. You chuckled dryly as you ran. ”You know damn well I’m on that very street since fate has a habit of putting me in bad situations,” you answered, stopping slightly to wait if the pain in your chest would go away. ”I suppose there’s no chance for you to just, I don’t know. Be smart and leave?” He asked you. ”Of course not,” you said, silently hissing as you felt the pain only worsening. ”Alright. Just stay close to Peter then,” your dad said and hung up the call. The pain was getting unbearable, a stabbing kind of pain. You felt like you were on fire like your lungs were on fire. You tried to make your legs move, you needed to find Peter as your dad instructed. Luckily, he came across you before you had the chance to look for him further. ”Everybody out?” You asked him. You leaned against the stone wall next to you, slightly holding yourself as if it’d help your pain at all. ”Yeah everybody except the dead ones,” Peter explained, still doing last-minute checks by looking around himself.

”Y/n are you alright?” You heard Peter ask. Your eyes shot back open, revealing a very concerned looking Peter. You wiped some sweat off your forehead and offered a small smile. ”I’m alright,” you lied. Just then, another wave of pain washed over you. This time stronger and harder than before. You audibly gasped as you slid down the wall next to you. You felt Peter crouch down next to you, helplessly flailing his arms around. You held yourself as you, at last, sobbed in pain. ”What’s wrong?” Peter asked, sounding terrified. ”I don’t know I feel like I’m going to die,” you sobbed. Your lungs burned as you spoke, you felt like you couldn’t breathe anymore. Like you were burned from the inside out. Peter glanced around the corner, to the street you had been on before turning to you. ”Your dad is there. He’s taking care of it,” Peter said to you. ”I’m gonna lay you down,” he said to you. You could only sob, not finding any strength in you to make words come out of your mouth.

You cried as the sidewalk touched your back. Your hands went to hold your chest as you cried out in pain. If you didn’t know any better you’d say that someone was using your body as a bonfire. Peter tore your shirt in half before gasping and falling back in shock. ”Y/n what happened?” He asked once he came to it, you could move your head anymore, it caused too much pain. ”You’re covered in burns. This is like fourth degree or something,” he gasped out. You cried out in pain again, how could you have burned yourself? You saw Peter take out his phone, after that, your sense of what was happening worsened by a lot. Black spots invaded your vision as your hearing became more muffled.

”Mr Stark,” you heard Peter say into the phone. Then your name was said, the things that came after that were a mystery to you. You could feel as everything slowed down, your screams died in your throat. Your eyes blinked slower until they refused to open anymore.

With shaky hands, Peter dialled the number of his mentor. ”Kid we’re a little busy right now,” tony’s voice spoke from the phone. Peter bit back a cry as he saw you laying on the sidewalk, clearly going in and out of consciousness. ”It’s Y/n,” he said. ”What about y/n?” Tony asked, his voice having completely changed. ”I- I don’t know what happened but he’s covered in burns and he kept screaming but now he’s quiet and just stares around himself please mister Stark I don’t know what to do,” Peter cried into the phone. He glanced at you again, seeing how your eyes began rolling backwards. ”No no no,” he chanted as he put the phone on the ground on speaker as he turned his attention towards you. His arm sneaked under your back, he felt how your skin was just melting off as he held you in a slightly upward position. ”Y/n open your eyes. Please,” he pleaded. ”What do you mean he’s covered in burns?” Tony asked on the other line. ”Mister Stark his skin is melting off as we speak please help me,” Peter cried as he held your lifeless body in his arms. Tony’s jets sounded near Peter. ”I thought I’d web the wounds but I wasn’t sure,” he cried, feeling like he was witnessing you dying, which he most definitely was. ”I’m gonna need some serious medical help on 112th now,” Tony spoke into his comms. Peter didn’t dare to look up, he felt like he had failed Tony. He had failed to protect Tony’s kid and this was on him.

Tony was glued in his place. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t do anything. He’d be haunted by nightmares for the rest of his life. The spotless skin Tony had washed multiple times when his kid was just a baby would never be the same. He could almost see the smoke oozing out of his son’s body, at least that’s what his brain told him. The paramedics came and did the best they could before getting your burned body into the vehicle.

Your eyes turned inside your head, you moved them around under your eyelids, trying to find out where you were without opening your eyes to the, no doubt, bright room. There was a steady beeping to your right. A hospital. slowly, your eyes opened. You glanced around yourself. Your dad was asleep on one of those really uncomfortable plastic chairs. You tried to sit up slowly, coughing in the process. Your dad awoke. ”No don’t sit up,” he spoke. You listened to him. ”What happened?” You mustered up the strength to speak. ”You were poisoned. They made it seem like you were burned and you were supposed to feel like that too,” your dad explained as he sat up slowly, clearly exhausted. ”So all that pain was inside my head?” You asked, amazed. ”Yeah. They’re getting pretty creative with these assassination attempts,” your dad snickered. You laughed too, relieved to be okay. Peter came in a few minutes later, relieved to find you awake and doing okay.