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consumeconstantly · 4 years ago

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Small Buff Girl Sightings Ch. 5

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3:00AM | CoffeeVamp: bb bat update us TheOG: ^^ more info on the situation in paris

3:28AM | Demonspawn: It is difficult to obtain information on Hawkmoth. The butterflies disperse after they are cleansed, and before they land their target, they don’t show up electronically. Coffee Vamp: o how the mighty have fallen i thought u said u could best me bb boi

3:42AM | Demonspawn: I’d like to see you do better. Coffee Vamp: IS THAT A CHALLENGE Coffee Vamp: ill take u up on that gimme 24 hours and ur going down TheOG: he has had a whole month so dont be too sure of that LadyLady: would you guys SHUT UP its two and some of us have jobs to do Coffee Vamp: cmon babs u luv us dont deny it LadyLady: Don’t make me hunt you down, Tim. Coffee Vamp: oOooO proper punctuation im shaking TheOG: just shut off notifications Babs TheOG: Bruce does Jesus: i don’t think the man has checked this chat in years Coffee Vamp: wdym brucie checks the chat all the time hes just a silent lurker Coffee Vamp: he doesnt even set himself to invisible

3:57AM | Daddy is away. Coffee Vamp: im so glad i have admin privileges imagine if i didnt bruce would have a boring normal nickname like his actual name LadyLady: good lord, why am I even in this chat?? Daddy: You’re supposed to keep them under control. Coffee Vamp: SEE I TOLD U BRUCE IS A SILENT LURKER> THIS. IS. SOLID. PROOF. IN YOUR FACE TheOG: nobody said otherwise Coffee Vamp: also how are the people have you made friends Jesus: Demon spawn? Making friends? Id be less surprised if he told us he has a new fling Coffee Vamp: is j right? Got a winter fling?

4:12AM | Coffee Vamp: ur lack of a response tells us nothing TheOG: im sure he’s just adopted his usual icy persona Coffee Vamp: haha hes the bb of so many things Coffee Vamp: bb vamp bb demon spawn ice ice bb Coffee Vamp: getitt im so funny

4:36AM | Coffee Vamp: guys?

“I told you I could get her to write her number on your cup,” Marinette grins with pride.

“And I told you I didn’t want her to.” Damian scowls and kicks a pebble in his path.

“You’re still wearing the clothes I picked out for you,” she points out.

“You told me to wear it. I wore it. I’m not interested in her.”

Marinette squints at Damian, evaluates whether he’s telling the truth or not. “Huh, you really aren’t interested. I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t wear the other outfit I picked out for you-- that one would have gotten her to ask you out on the spot.”

Damian groans. “We’re going to have to find a new coffee place.”

“Or we could just come when she’s not on shift and run away like mice when we do see her?”

Damian gives her The Look.

“But they have good coffee here,” Marinette whines.

“Maybe you should have thought about that before dressing me up and sending me to my death.”

“It’s not my fault! You only have your parents to blame for your looks.”

It’s true; both of Damian’s parents are good-looking. His whole family is, actually, adopted or not. All of the good looking people he meets are talented and have a tragic life story. Which is the cause and which is the effect, Damian isn’t sure. But it holds true even in Paris. All he has to do is look at Marinette or Adrien, though he’s not a hundred percent sure where the tragedy kicks in for Marinette. Probably the time when she was at odds with Lila, but he hasn’t looked much into the situation. He can even use Lila Rossi as an example. She has even worse color coordination than Damian is, but her features are model worthy. Lila Rossi is also definitely fucked up in ways that Damian doesn’t care to explore.

The effects of Marinette’s well-placed compliments has Damian thinking about himself in a positive manner that he never has before. Bruce is always stingy with praise, and the other senior members of the Justice League of America see him as another Robin that doesn’t need praise because competency comes with the mantle. Dick and Barbara compliment him occasionally, but that’s rarer now that his place is more firmly cemented in the family. Damian doesn’t think he’s ever had someone so willing to genuinely compliment him. Marinette’s compliments extend to more than just his looks, as well. She praises his technological skills as he sets up her website and has complimented him as he helps her out with whatever altercations she inevitably comes across on the streets. If he reveals his skills as Robin, reveals himself as Damian Wayne, will he receive even more praise?

“But since we did buy you that absolute knockout of an outfit, you’re going to have to wear it eventually. So whose heart do you want to steal?”

“I don’t want a relationship,” Damian repeats. They seem like more effort than they’re worth, and he always sees couples fighting and complaining about each other. Plus, they have to make time for each other and his alter ego doesn’t allow for that, though he supposes that he isn't Robin. At least, not right now.

“You don’t need to want a relationship just to flirt with somebody. Who’s it going to be? The intern at the Louvre? My parent’s newest hire? Oooh, how about Nicolette?” Marinette’s voice takes on a more mischievous tone.

Damian will give Marinette this much: her taste in the aesthetics of people is far from bad. The intern from the Louvre is two hundred pounds of lean muscle with a devil-may-care smile and a deep, belly laugh that makes people laugh with him, but Damian and he don’t have anything in common. Her parent’s new hire is knockout gorgeous, with warm brown eyes, and definitely the kind of girl Damian would have gone for as a one night stand back in Gotham. However, he’s also 98% sure that she has a very possessive boyfriend who stops by the bakery every time she has a shift. Nicolette is considered her college’s belle, and her intense gaze paired with her surprisingly friendly demeanor might have been appealing to Damian if she weren’t ten years older than him.

“I’m not into any of them,” he says, simply.

“Then who are you into? Surely someone has caught your eye in the past month?” Marinette looks genuinely curious, but her expression shifts into horror. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I never asked your preferences, if I was being insensitive, I’m sorry, I mean I’m pan, but you absolutely don’t have to tell me, it’s your right if you’re not comfortable.”

Damian does look slightly uncomfortable now that she’s looking at him more closely. His arms are crossed over each other, across his chest, and his hair is tousled. Then, he lets out a small laugh, and Marinette melts. “It’s fine, Pigtails. All of the people you listed are attractive, but I’m not attracted to them. I’m more of a personality guy, though I can’t say that personality has stopped me from things more than dates before.”

He’s had his fair share of hook-ups and makeout sessions in the past when feeling particularly frustrated with something that wasn’t going his way, though his primary method of relief is through sparring. Short missions and one night stands go fairly well together; he doesn’t ever have to deal with people wanting long term relationships, and even if they do, he’s gone before they know it. So far, he hasn’t hooked up with anyone in Paris, but then again, he’s only been here for a month and this is a long term mission. Whatever time he’s not with Marinette or at school is dedicated to piecing together the mystery that is the Miraculous and trying to figure out Hawkmoth’s identity.

“Oh,” Marinette continues to blush.

She’s clearly too embarrassed to bring up any other topic, so Damian decides that he’ll shoot the same conversation topic back at her. Marinette is attractive, and people she meets ask for her numbers and dates often enough. She’ll accept the former if they aren’t a total creep, but she always turns down requests for dates.

“And you? Why aren’t you out there questing for love? No crushes or significant others that I need to beat off with a stick?”

This does manage to lessen her flush. She frowns, turns something over in her mind.

“No crushes right now, no. I used to have a huge crush on Adrien just a year ago. He’s such a sweet person, but we don’t see eye to eye on important matters.” And also not into sex, either. Even physical affection hits him the wrong way sometimes, which makes Marinette worry even further for his well being with Lila’s constant touches. Still, he hasn’t said anything, and Lila hasn’t done anything more than grasp his arm or shoulders every now and then, to reassure the class that yes, they are the golden couple. Marinette also suspects that he is very unwilling to talk about the whole situation in general, and it’s not as though they’re super close.

Of course she had a crush on Adrien. Damian can see it now, Marinette looking at Adrien with her big blue eyes, her lashes fluttering when she gets close to him. Stuttering when she gets embarrassed or when she gets close to him. It makes his lungs constrict, but he’s not sure why.

“As for past relationships, there’s only really Luka. We had a pretty good run, but he’s out of the country, touring. He wanted to try long distance, but I didn’t really want that. But he’s respectful-- there’s no need to beat him off with a stick or anything.”

“I’m surprised a pretty girl like you doesn’t have more suitors,” Damian says, stepping over a crack in the sidewalk as they walk towards the park.

Marinette gags. “There are some other people who have been interested, but I wouldn’t exactly consider them relationship material. If you’re going after a girl just because she looks exotic, that’s sort of nasty. I guess I’m just unlucky in love.”

“At least you’re not as bad off as Ladybug is,” Damian jokes.

She looks at him strangely. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, first there was that creepy sculptor who must have been twice her age, then there’s Chat Noir who keeps flirting with her despite her requests not to, plus all of the random love akumas. I’m not even going to talk about the hordes of guys who chase after her, trying to get a date just because she’s a superhero. It’s not even like she can kick them between the legs because she has an image to uphold and all that.” He smirks, nudges her with his arm. “I’m surprised you haven’t done that with some of your stalkers.”

“Oh. You’re right, huh. Though, I don’t think Chat Noir has actually flirted for a while now.” Chat Noir has been very subdued as of late, and it makes Ladybug worry.

Marinette feels uncomfortable with the way the conversation has shifted. How does Damian know about all of these past akuma attacks? As far as Marinette is aware, most information about anything Miraculous related is difficult to get a hold of abroad, largely because the Miraculous try to hide their existence as best they can, and partially because Mayor Bourgeois doesn’t want word to get out that he hasn’t flushed a supervillain terrorist out even though he’s had three years to do it.

“Copycat happened three years ago.” It’s a question, almost.

“I figure I might as well keep up with the heroes of Paris. I’m here and they’re interesting.” Damian figures this is as good a time as any to bring up his interest in Hawkmoth. Marinette has been nothing but helpful and she’s definitely the kind of person whose heart is in the right place. Not to mention that she’s definitely smart and seems impartial; the one time he asked her about her thoughts on the heroes, he found out that she didn’t see them as perfect. She was able to critique Ladybug in full, which seemed pretty odd considering the rest of Paris seemed to have nothing but glowing praise for the heroine. “You’ve had some awful luck with akumas yourself. Weird how Ladybug didn’t show up when you got kidnapped by Evillustrator. One of the only times she didn’t show up for an akuma.”

“And what happened to the other heroes? It’s mostly Ladybug now. She must be in an awful state with her civilian life.” He looks off to the park, occasionally flicking his attention back Marinette’s face, evaluating her expression.

She catches his eyes and he swiftly looks away, looking almost nervous. Marinette stiffens. He knows, he knows, he knows, he can’t know. But how? How does he know that she’s Ladybug? She hasn’t let anything slip around him. She's been careful not to. Everything she’s ever said about Ladybug has been brief and curt, taking on an almost angry tone.

“If you’re so interested in Parisian heroes, I’m sure you saw the press conference Ladybug and Chat Noir gave last year about why the other heroes would be showing up less often.” Marinette keeps her voice carefully neutral. She needs to play this safe. She’s probably over reacting-- she’s been on edge with Hawkmoth sending out an akuma attack nearly every single day for the past few months.

Damian shakes his head. “It didn’t seem like good reasoning. Ladybug and Chat Noir are too untrained. They haven’t beat two villains in three years. They should let someone else take over.”

Marinette has come across a good number of Ladybug and Chat Noir haters throughout her time. Those who dislike the Parisian heroes often make the exact same arguments Damian is now. That they’re not fast enough. That they should have taken down Hawkmoth and Mayura already. This is nothing new to her, though it does hurt hearing it from Damian, for some reason. She can’t even argue with most of the points he’s brought up. Going mostly solo was because of her own, selfish reasons. She really should have beaten Hawkmoth and Mayura by now.

“The only thing they have going for them right now is that they’re keeping their Miraculous out of Hawkmoth’s hands.” She pretends that the reason why Chat Noir doesn’t show up to battle is to ensure that Hawkmoth can’t get both of the Miraculous in one fell swoop. It feels hopeless to fight villain after villain without any movement forwards. Her mind wanders to the increasing frequency of akumas and smiles, sardonically. “Some people think it’s only a matter of time until Ladybug and Chat Noir lose.”

“Hawkmoth almost seems to be the better strategist.” The two of them pass store front after store front. “Do you ever wonder what they look like, under the mask? Who they are?”

Marinette stares at the concrete underneath her feet. Hawkmoth, the better strategist? Laughable, and entirely incorrect. Even the people who hate Ladybug admit that her plans almost always work out, and that her plans are second to none. Really the only person who can possibly think that Hawkmoth is a better strategist is--

She can’t think like that. Damian is her friend. He’s just curious about Paris. Her lack of sleep and increase in paranoia re making her imagine things that are impossible. Besides, Damian isn’t on her list of suspects-- he told her he’s only been here for a short time, and Hawkmoth’s Miraculous definitely has a limited range. It’s a real pity that the world of Miraculous makes concrete evidence hard to come by, otherwise, Marinette likes to think Hawkmoth would have been behind bars already.

“No,” she lies. Hawkmoth haunts her dreams and every waking hour. She spends hours and hours on theories and scouring out information and people who fit the clues she’s painstakingly pieced together. “Not really.”

Damian’s eyes are a piercing green, and for a moment, Marinette thinks she stops breathing. “Is that so? I’m really interested in who Ladybug is under the mask. I’d love the opportunity to talk to her in person, especially about her Miraculous. The powers she has are… very interesting.”

No. There’s no way that Damian can be Hawkmoth, right? This is all just her paranoia speaking. Damian is just a foreigner who is interested in super heroes. It’s no biggie. Still, she can’t shake off the idea that there’s more to Damian than meets the eye. The way he walks-- no, prowls-- commands respect. Marinette can tell that he knows how to fight, and knows how to fight well. He’s very good at finding information on people-- she sent a whole case file to her on Renee and his situation with his mother within twenty four hours of going into the precinct, complete with video evidence Marinette knows should have been impossible to procure without hacking-- and keeps up with her critiques on Ladybug and Chat Noir’s techniques like he’s watched their battles over and over again. He remembers akuma battles Marinette has half forgotten, because they happened so long ago.

She stares up at him, hands shoved in the pockets of the jacket she chose for him when they went on their wardrobe makeover. Damian is surprisingly wealthy; he purchased anything she even glanced at with passing approval. He looks straight forward, apparently waiting for some response from her. Just because Damian is her friend, doesn’t mean she can immediately expunge him from her list of suspects. So far, she has taken all of Damian’s words at face value. It didn’t matter to her that he rarely talks about his family or his life before Paris. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t brought her to his home during all of the weeks that they’ve been hanging out together. Really, Marinette just figured that he had a rocky relationship with his family, and that he may have been on the poorer side and was embarrassed to show her where he lived. But clearly. Damian is well off enough to afford brand name clothes without batting an eye. Things aren’t adding up. All of the red flags that she’s blatantly ignored start to crop up in her head.

The book on the species of butterflies that akumas are made of, tucked under his arm. The way he showed up after every single akuma attack when she rarely saw him in the area before or during it. His knowledge of the three languages that form the basis of the Miraculous Tome-- Mandarin, Arabic, and English.

If he is Hawkmoth, what sort of emotions would he be feeling right now? Some sort of euphoria, maybe, realizing that he could get infinitely closer to Ladybug when she is Marinette. Anticipation, too. Has Marinette been hanging out with a super villain for the past month? Has she really come to the point where she can call a supervillain her best friend?

Marinette takes another look at Damian’s outfit. Master Fu said that the Miraculous Hawkmoth owns is in the shape of a brooch. Marinette sees no such object on Damian, which could either mean that he’s not Hawkmoth or that he’s just been taking it off whenever he’s with her. She’s really hoping it’s not the second option.

She needs to gather her thoughts, make a plan on how to proceed. When she’s sure that Damian isn’t looking, Marinette sets off the ringtone that is saved for her Maman’s texts and calls. This catches Damian’s attention, and she waves looks up from her phone as though she’s responding.

“Maman wants me to do a delivery. If you’re looking for more information on the whole superhero situation in Paris, I can get you Alya’s number. She runs the Ladyblog-- I’m sure she’d be glad to talk with you.” Alya also has some of the worst conspiracy theories that Marinette has ever seen. She doesn’t often keep abreast of what the Ladyblog’s portrayal of Ladybug is, but back when Marinette and Alya were friends, she was subjected to wild theories that made her stomach nauseous with how little logic there was. Which means that if-- if-- Damian is actually Hawkmoth, he might be thrown off by what she says.

“I’ll see you on Monday? Jagged texted me last night and wants me to change the embroidery on his commission.” This isn’t exactly a lie; Jagged wants one of the smaller details to be changed, but it certainly won’t take as long as she’s suggesting. Marinette hopes that it’s enough of an excuse to get Damian off her back for the rest of today and tomorrow while she reevaluates her game plans and life choices.

Damian waves her off. “I don’t think that Ladyblogger girl knows anymore than I do. She’s of no help to me. I’ll see you on Monday.”

Marinette’s reaction to Damian’s questions are weird. There’s an underlying tension that she exuded before they parted ways, and he’s still thinking about it a day later.

Marinette, who he always finds near an akuma attack right after it occurs. Marinette, who is emotionally and physically superior to most other Parisians. Marinette, who hasn’t been akumatized in a class full of idiots and other victims. Marinette, who doesn’t like Ladybug even though she seems like a fairly competent and kind hero, despite the fact that she hasn’t caught Hawkmoth yet. Marinette, who rarely talks about akumas despite all of the time he spends with her, which is highly unusual because even people he only briefly meets manage to slip in something about akumas into the conversation. Damian feels like there must be some sort of connection between Marintte and the akuma situation that he’s not getting, but it’s eluding him.

He sits down with his laptop in his apartment and looks up information about Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She’s definitely just as talented as he suspected; in her ninth year of schooling, she won a Gabriel competition, participated in a music video of Clara Nightingale’s, and collaborated with Jagged Stone on an album cover. So that was how she met him-- he wondered, but never asked. There are also a few instagram posts that have tagged her as a good samaritan and a few articles that detail a small, asian girl who’s going around Paris helping random people that are in need.

The weird things that Damian finds are contained in her school records. She’s apparently in very good company with her IQ, but what’s more interesting is all the dates that she is tardy or absent from school. They line up perfectly with all of the dates that akumas appear. He feels dread gather in his stomach.

A few more searches seem to cement his growing suspicions. Around the same time that Marinette obtained a truce with Lila matched up with when theorists believed that the Italian girl started working with Hawkmoth. He reads the instagrams and tweets of her classmates from the first year that Hawkmoth arrived, which talk about how excellent Marinette is at calming them down and guiding them to a better place. He also reads the posts of Chloe Bourgeois and Alya Cesaire and the articles about Marinette and Evillustrator that tell a slightly different story-- that Marinette is capable of manipulating others into more unpleasant situations.

Damian jolts. There is an incoming call from his father.

“Are updates on Paris, Damian?”

Should he give them a clue to his growing suspicions that Marinette is Hawkmoth? No, he can’t tell them until he gathers more information.

“No,” he says. “Information about Hawkmoth and the Miraculous are hard to come by.”

There’s a sigh and what sounds like the rustling of papers from the other side. “I figured. Tim and Barbara can’t find anything over here, either, but the Justice League is worried. They want results.”

“The Justice League and I agreed that having Robin make an appearance would be beneficial. Gain Ladybug and Chat Noir’s trust, or find Hawkmoth. Information might come easier with your alter ego.”

“All right.”

Another pause. He and his father have always had an awkward relationship. Bruce didn’t know of his existence until he was ten, and by that time, the most formative years of Damian’s life had already passed. Bruce Wayne may be many things, but good at dealing with children, he is not. Even after adopting so many children, he doesn’t know how to raise a child. Damian and his brothers have all raised themselves, with Bruce only stepping in when one of them is really going off the rails.

“Is everything else going well in Paris? School is good?”

“School is fine.” Damian wonders whether he should tell his father about Marinette. About the girl who is kind and capable and scarily efficient at dispatching criminals for a citizen and-- he can’t think about her like that. He decides against telling his father about her. She might be Hawkmoth, after all, and confirming her existence to his father means that he’s denying that possibility. “Gotham?”

“Nothing out of the usual. A few run-ins with the Joker.”

Another silence. The lapses in conversation aren’t awkward, but Damian thinks of the playful banter Marinette has with her parents and frowns.

“Goodbye, Father.”

“Goodnight, Damian.”

Damian looks around at his empty apartment. There is nothing in it, except for his suitcase and a few pieces of furniture. It’s nothing like the manor, where he knows that Tim is up at all hours slaving away on another project that Damian rarely gets to see, or that Jason is in the training room with Dick joining him occasionally. He can’t pick a fight with Tim or have Dick try to mediate the conflicts between himself and Jason. No nightly patrols with three or four people talking over the comms, or near instantaneous backup when he gets into a tight spot. There is no Alfred or Barbara or Cassandra or Bruce here. Only Damian.

He looks down at his laptop, at the various information and images of Marinette that he has up on his screen. In good conscience, he can’t continue being friends with her. Not with the possibility that she is the person he’s trying to hunt down.

He remembers her saying that being lonely is different than being alone.

Damian is lonely.

Patrol is a necessary evil.

Ladybug doesn’t hate patrol. She’s not very fond of it, though. It cuts into time that she could be spending sleeping or designing or anything else, really. In the beginning, it started as a way to figure out how everything worked under the guise of the dark and without the constant threat of an akuma hanging over head. Then, it progressed into disproving the theory about Ladybug’s age, because civilians aren’t inclined to believe that a teenage girl who has school the next day would patrol every day in the early morning. Now, it shows the Parisians how devoted Ladybug is-- that’s something that she’s struggled with ever since withdrawing the Miraculous from all of the part time heroes-- and lets Marinette blow off any steam that she has.

Right now, Marinette needs to blow off a lot of steam. Still, even as Ladybug, as much as Marinette wants to scream to high hell and back about how she’s been friends-- very close friends, she’d dare to say-- with the same person who has been terrorizing Paris for years, she can’t. If she screams, there will be media coverage on it, and she doesn’t want to deal with what the press would write up some article about how Ladybug was overworked and needed to bring back the other heroes, or that Ladybug wasn’t mentally sound enough to take care of Paris, she should just give up the Miraculous, or that Ladybug’s scream was [insert some poetic nonsense that English teachers wax about for hours even though the author never intended the audience to read that deeply into it].

Marinette doesn’t want to admit it, but she’s gotten close to Damian. She’s as close to him as she is with Kagami, Luka, Jagged and Penny. Damian knows that she’s MDC. He knows her hopes and aspirations. He knows her family, knows the majority of her friends, and knows what’s important to her. It will be so easy for him to tear her apart now. Marinette isn’t sure what Hawkmoth is waiting for, but she almost hopes that he’ll get it over with sooner rather than later.

What will Hawkmoth do first? Go after the website that he helped her make, probably. Cut off the financial support that she could use to run away and create another identity. Then, he’ll go after her friends, few and far as they may be. Renee next. Her family, last. She wonders who Mayura is, if he is Hawkmoth. She hasn’t seen anyone that’s close to him. Then again, Damian reveals next to nothing about himself. She’s never even seen where he lives.

There’s a shadow on the rooftops.

God, of course Hawkmoth would send out an akuma today. He knows how horrible her mental state must be. There’s no way he wouldn’t take advantage of that.

She yoyos over to the shadow, not close enough to strike or apprehend, but close enough to easily give chase without the akuma being able to give her the slip.

“Ladybug,” the akuma says.

“Cut the crap. We all know you want the Miraculous, Hawkmoth. Let’s get to it.” The shadow steps forward where a street lamp illuminates its costume, and once again, she is assaulted by the barrage of colors on her eyes. After seeing how awful Damian’s color coordination was, it’s easy to come to terms with the awful designs of all of his costumes. Still, she’s surprised that the boy who dresses in the same outfit every day creates such outlandish costumes for all of his minions.

The akuma frowns, tenses.

“I’m not Hawkmoth,” it insists. “I’m Robin, a vigilante from Gotham. I’ve come to learn more about the current situation and aid you in taking Hawkmoth down.”

Ladybug scoffs. She’s not sure what this akuma’s tactic is, but none of the others have tried to lie to her so blatantly about their identity. And ripping off an identity? That is a new low, even for Hawkmoth. She’s sure that the real Robin didn’t agree to this, and if she were close with the vigilante, maybe she could get him to throw a lawsuit or two at Hawkmoth once he was in custody, just for kicks.

Robin the akuma scrambles, apparently looking for something that can verify his identity.

Ladybug strikes. There’s no pride in striking an opponent when they are distracted, but it’s a means to an end. If Damian is dumb enough to send out an akuma confused about its identity tonight of all nights-- a night where Ladybug is distressed and it would be all too easy to take advantage of her-- then she’s going to take advantage of it.

It’s easy to bind the akuma. Startlingly easy. The akuma is different tonight, then. His powers have something to do with close contact, maybe? Ladybug looks on his person for things that could be the point of akumatization, eyes flitting from Robin’s waistband to his mask.

She comes to an unpleasant conclusion. The measurements and the coloring are a perfect match. Hawkmoth has come to meet her in person.

“Damian,” Ladybug hisses.

Damian’s eyes widen, like he doesn’t know how she’s pieced together his identity. How stupid does he think she is? He’s been dropping hints constantly. Information a transfer to Paris shouldn’t know. Never telling Marinette anything personal. Always being near an akuma attack when it happens. It’s almost like he wanted her to figure out his identity.

“How did you know?”

“Please, Hawkmoth, did you really think that Marinette couldn’t connect the dots? You must have thought awfully little of her if you thought that your constant appearances near all of the akuma and questions about the Miraculous didn’t lead me to your identity.”

“Hawkmoth? Ladybug, I’m not Hawkmoth, I’m Robin.”

“And I’m the queen of England. Renounce your Miraculous now, Hawkmoth. Or I’ll beat you until you detransform and take it from you.”

Damian looks confused before his face contorts to an expression of resignation. He recognizes a cold fury in her eyes that is distinct to people who won’t give up until they get their way, and there’s really no other way around this right now. He should have brought his comm with him, but he wasn’t expecting to meet Ladybug tonight; he just wanted to assess the situation as Robin, to get out from his apartment for a second. Rookie mistake.

True to her word, Ladybug beats Damian unconscious and also until he’s black and blue. She’ll be lying if she didn’t say she took out some of her fury from the past years on him.

But here’s the thing; Damian doesn’t detransform. He stays in his god-awful costume that has the same disgusting shade of mustard yellow as that one top Damian owns. That’s not what’s supposed to happen. When Miraculous users faint, they detransform because it takes a sort of mental awareness to handle the powers bestowed upon them. Is it different because Damian is an akuma? Is there some sort of Miraculous bylaw that if a Miraculous user gets akumatized, they get to stay in their alternate form? Oh wait, that’s right, he’s an akuma, not Hawkmoth right now.

Ladybug stumbles forward, breaking all of the weapons that are on his belt, taking off his mask and breaking that as well. No akuma comes out. She tries his gloves, then his boots. She pats him down, seeing if there’s anything she missed. She rips his suit, too. Nothing. There’s no brooch in his personal effects either.

What is she supposed to do now?

Seeing no alternative, Ladybug picks Damian up and yoyos back to Tom and Sabine’s Boulangerie to safely detransform and figure out what the fuck is going on.

He’s not Hawkmoth, is the conclusion Marinette comes to after a side by side comparison of pictures of the vigilante and Damian. The horrifying conclusion: the person lying on the floor of her bedroom is actually Robin, the vigilante from Gotham.

Marinette knows it’s better to err on the side of caution, but she still buries her head in her hands in embarrassment. How can she have gotten him so wrong? She really needs to get better at reading people, because deciding that random civilians are Hawkmoth clearly has not paid off.

She also cannot believe that the Justice League has decided to step in now, and with a sidekick from America, of all things--Marinette is pretty sure that she sent the videos to the European branch. It must have been three years since her first notification to them. She contacted them immediately after Stoneheart, and again, after Syren when she was distraught at the death that surrounded her. With no response, there was nothing she could do. She has to start relying on herself and her own skills.

Ladybug only contacted them once more, after Heroes’ Day. At that point, Ladybug had been thinking for a while that someone who was naturally superpowered or someone with a high grade of intelligence-- like the heroes affiliated with the Justice League-- would do more harm than good if they were allowed in the city. After the devastation of her teammates being akumatized, and the nearly week long battle that ensued, she was certain that she could barely fight her teammates, let alone trained professionals. So with shaky hands and red rimmed eyes, she said to please disregard her earlier messages; the situation in Paris wasn’t that bad, and Ladybug could handle it.

Damian groans. Marinette jumps; he is waking up far earlier than she anticipated. She wants to transform back into Ladybug. Being in her spots gives her a pseudo sense of security. First, though, she has to restrain him. Even though he isn’t Hawkmoth, she’s not sure whether he’s a threat or not. She makes quick work of it, using the thickest zip ties that she has on hand and restraining his arms and legs.

She doesn’t get the chance to transform back into Ladybug, but that’s just as well, because at the end of the day, Marinette is the foundation of anything that makes Ladybug a hero to the public. Damian opens his eyes almost immediately after she has finished restraining him, taking in his surroundings and the person in front of him.

“Marinette? Where’s Ladybug?” No questions of how he got there; Ladybug can clearly carry her own weight and more. No questions as to why there are zip ties cutting into his wrists and ankles; he has seen too many of Marinette’s victims on the streets.

“What do you mean, where’s Ladybug?” Marinette is right in front of him. She might not have the suit on, but at the end of the day, she does have the Ladybug Miraculous, which means she’s Ladybug through and through, and Damian must know that. Otherwise, there’s no real reason for Robin to be spending so much time with Marinette. The fact that she feels more real and true to herself as Marinette than as Ladybug probably means nothing to him.

“She knocked me out on a rooftop. Didn’t know that you two knew each other personally. I’m not Hawkmoth, by the way.” He twitches, then realizes that he’s been tied up. “Why’d she leave me with you?”

So he doesn’t know that she’s also Ladybug? This whole thing keeps getting more confusing. Still, the less people that know about her alter ego, the better. Marinette will keep him in the dark. She attributes his blatant misunderstanding to the identity concealment magic of the Miraculous. It’s powerful stuff. If it didn’t exist, she’s sure she would have found concrete evidence as to who Hawkmoth is by now.

“She asked me to assess whether you were a threat or not. Whether or not she casts the Miraculous Cure is contingent on my response.”

“Ladybug wants you to assess whether I’m a threat or not? Why’d she leave a possible super villain with a civilian?”

“I help Ladybug out with many things.” Her voice turns to clinical detachment. She uses this method to dissociate as Ladybug when things get overwhelming. Assess the situation. Get in, deakumatize, get out. Marinette needs to distance herself. It’s bad enough that the situation is this convoluted, but she doesn’t need Damian to doubt Ladybug’s capabilities as well. “Ladybug knows that you’re not Hawkmoth now, and she knows that I can handle myself with any run of the mill bad guy, even if they are a supposed vigilante.”

“Tell me, Robin,” Marinette spits the name like a curse, “Why should I tell Ladybug that you’re not a threat? That you are who you say you are?”

In all honesty, all Marinette wants to do is knock Damian out again so she can collect her thoughts. She’s not sure how she should address his presence as Robin in Paris and is still reeling from the whiplash of thinking he was Hawkmoth only for him to turn into a foreign vigilante. Next thing she knows, he’ll tell her that his name isn’t even Damian Grayson. Well, now that she thinks about it, he’s definitely not. After this encounter finishes, she’ll look up Damian and Gotham and see what she gets.

He looks flustered, like he never expected anybody to question his identity or presence. It’s laughable, really. Marinette doubts that the Justice League actually sent him; he’s probably here to explore on his own. That means he’ll only be a pain in the ass to deal with. Maybe she needs to get into contact with the Justice League again, if only just so she can deport Robin with more ease.

“I can call Batman,” he says.

Marinette doesn’t think this is a very good solution. There’s no way for her to prove that the person on the other side actually is Batman and not some actor. But after racking her brain, she can’t come up with a much better solution. It’s not like Robin has any superpowers that she can request to see, and she doesn’t have a direct line to anybody from the Justice League.

“Fine. Call Batman.”

“It’s in the pocket near on my right side.” Marinette doesn’t bother going closer to him. She destroyed everything on him earlier, in case it was the akuma’s vessel. Ladybug thought she came across a phone, but now she’s glad she smashed it and left it on that random rooftop. He probably has some sort of tracker on his phone. In any case, Marinette thinks it’s weird for a vigilante to have a phone on them while on the rooftops. Shouldn’t he have an earpiece or something?

“Your phone was destroyed by Ladybug. Tell me the number to call. I’ll put it on speaker.” Marinette isn’t sure if the number he’ll have her call will be some sort of secure connection or direct line that is only accessible through Damian’s phone, but she doesn’t particularly care because the Miraculous Communicators are exactly that. Miraculous. Master Fu assured her that all communications were private and impossible to crack unless they also had a Miraculous. Which is why she’s using the Miraculous Communicator to call Batman.

Damian winces, then speaks into the offered phone.

“Batman, it’s Robin. I need to verify my identity in order to proceed.”

“Are you with Ladybug?”

So he is on a mission, then, and not just playing hooky. If Batman is involved, Marinette has no doubt the rest of the Justice League will follow soon. This will be a dreadfully unpleasant call.

“I’m making it a video call,” Marinette says. “And no, he’s not with Ladybug. I’m Ladybug’s point of contact, and she doesn’t take kindly to people encroaching on her territory without permission.”

“Robin, what happened?” Batman isn’t accepting her video request.

Marinette cuts off whatever Damian is about to say. “Damian was suspicious; I reported his activities to Ladybug and she believed that he could be Hawkmoth. Then, she caught him on the roofs and took him back to my place after verifying that he wasn’t Hawkmoth. Video call, Batman. I’d like to see that you are who you say you are, before I send Robin back to the states.”

“She knows your civilian identity? Two people know that you’re Robin?”

“Turn your video on. If you can’t prove that you are who Damian says you are, Ladybug and I will do everything in our powers to deport him and make sure that the Justice League is not allowed in Paris again. Ladybug said that she doesn’t need any unknowns in her city, and I’ve been hoping Robin came here of his own volition. It sounds like that isn’t the case.”

Marinette thinks that Batman curses in English, but she’s not sure. Fluent though Marinette may be, she is not well versed in curses, colloquialisms, or American memes. The camera turns on. It’s Batman, or at the very least, an actor wearing a very good knock off costume.

It’s annoying that Marinette can’t see his eyes. There’s some white film where his eyes should be, and the fact that his cowl covers more than half of his face isn’t doing her any favors in letting her read his facial expression. She moves herself so that Batman can see both her and Robin.

“Why is Robin restrained?”

“Like I said: he was suspicious. I’m not taking any chances.”

A moment of silence.

“How do you want me to prove my identity?”

That’s good. He’s not asking who she is, though she’s sure that there are cameras pointing at the screen on Batman’s end, running facial analysis and background checks on her. The Miraculous magic will ensure that any connections between her and Ladybug will not come to light. Other than her identity as Ladybug, Marinette has nothing to hide.

“If you’re Batman, then you should have access to the League’s calls, European and otherwise. Play me the last video that Ladybug sent you. I know what she said.” She spares a glance at Damian. His jaw is tight, but when he looks at her, she finds what looks like regret. It’s not entirely Damian’s fault. A mission is a responsibility, and Marinette understands that in order to be a hero or vigilante, one must be willing to do anything to accomplish the mission. Really, she’s only Ladybug because she feels that heavy weight of the words duty and responsibility on her shoulders. Fu’s fault.

“Behave. If you try something, I’ll knock you out.” Marinette sets the communicator on her desk and eyes him. The zipties are so tight around his arms and legs that he is bleeding. Marinette feels a flash of sympathy, then pushes it away. It was his fault for-- why was he at fault, again?

“I have the video.” Batman sounds even peakier than when they started the call. He plays the video.

“Justice League. This is Ladybug. I rescind my requests for help; I can take care of Paris with my own team. Any help from you at this point would be a detriment and could potentially harm the citizens of Paris. Hawkmoth manipulates strong emotions, and I don’t need to handle a metahuman or tactical genius to gain more power to wreak havoc on my city. I will not contact you with any further requests for assistance.”

It’s an awful video. Marinette had to wait a day after the Heroes’ week fiasco just so her eyes wouldn’t be red. At least her voice doesn’t waver in it. There’s a conviction in the whole video that was unique to that moment.

Marinette looks at Batman, then at Robin.

“Clearly the Justice League refused to listen. Ladybug doesn’t want or need your help at this point in time. Why are you here?”

“The Justice League is at fault for not paying attention to Ladybug’s other videos. But Mayor Bourgeois and President Macron can only cover such alarming incidents for so long. Ladybug and her… team clearly need help in order to find and take down Hawkmoth, so once the American branch of the Justice League found out half a year ago, we started to investigate.” Batman speaks in lieu of Damian. Marinette briefly wonders if Damian knows who Batman is under the mask. She bets he does. They’re probably close, what with how worried Batman sounds.

“What makes you think that the Justice League is any better equipped to handle this situation? Ladybug and her team have been fighting for the past three years and resolved every akuma with no help from you. She needed your help in earlier years. Now she doesn’t.”

“Exactly; it’s been three years and she still hasn’t caught Hawkmoth.”

“You say that like the Justice League doesn’t have a team with more wealth and manpower than Ladybug does that’s been looking into Hawkmoth and the Miraculous for the past half year and clearly has not found any reasonable leads. Ladybug has only been actively looking for Hawkmoth for the past two years, not three. The police handled the first year, not that you’ve done any homework on the situation. Thought that a field agent would help your chances?”

There is fire in Marinette’s stomach. Batman sounds so dismissive of all of the work that she’s been doing. It’s been hard on her; she doesn’t have the support that she needs and doesn’t have the experience or expertise to hunt down Hawkmoth on her own. She trained briefly under Master Fu to learn spells and ways to expand her powers as Ladybug, but that was an equivalent exchange: she no longer trusts that other holders won’t be akumatized. Her growing cynicism and physical training from Maman came at the expense of Chat Noir; after the whole Lila incident in her first year as Ladybug, she found out that Chat Noir and Adrien were one and the same. And Gabriel Agreste is not afraid to use his son until Adrien is stretched far too thin, which forced Marinette to nearly bench her partner.

“Three years,” Batman says again.

“If the Justice League can’t figure it out nearly unlimited resources and funding in half a year-- both ordinary and super human-- then clearly it isn’t a question of time. It’s a question of capability. Get off your high horse, Batman. You haven’t given me any reasons why Ladybug and I shouldn’t deport Robin here, and you’re definitely not making a good case as to why she shouldn’t go to Mayor Bourgeois and France’s president to ensure that the Justice League and its affiliates and ban hero travel into Paris. Bourgeois already doesn’t want information on it’s supervillain situation to get out.”

“Marinette,” Damian pleads.

As Robin and as Damian, he doesn’t pose a threat. He hasn’t been helpful, but he certainly hasn’t messed with the status quo for the month that he’s been here. Still, he is a liability. If he stays in Paris, he is the gateway for the other members of the Justice League to fly in and try to commandeer the fragile balance that she has found. She can’t afford for something like that to happen.

“You’re not any better, Robin. Why did you even hang around me? Thought I was a threat?” Her eyes narrow in realization. It makes sense why he decided to hang out with her, despite his initial cold front. He was playing a role.“You thought I was Hawkmoth.”

His silence is an agreement.

“We just want to help,” Damian says, and against her better judgement, Marinette believes him.

Her shoulders round, and Marinette sighs. She can’t truly begrudge Damian for that train of thought, not when she believed the same about him. She’s been a little harsh on them so far, in part due to old resentment that they never responded to her in that first, awful year when she needed the help.

There’s a dull tiredness that comes with knowing someone who she considered one of her closest friends suspected her of being a supervillain, though she did believe the same of him, so maybe they’re even. It still hurts, though. It hurts like when Alya decided that Marinette was mean-hearted enough to stop the members of their class from reaching their full potential. It hurts like when Marinette finally realized that she couldn’t repair their friendship, not to what it used to be. It hurts like when she looked around the classroom and realized that she couldn’t talk to anyone there. It hurts like when Marinette decided that she couldn’t risk helping her friends the way she wanted to.

“What kind of help can you offer us? We don’t need any more of you to come out here.” Resources are nice. More money to fund therapy programs around town won’t hurt. Master Fu doesn’t help on that part. Really, he doesn’t help at all. Even though she has Chat Noir and had a team, she often feels like it’s herself against the world. Some days, she reaches up to her earrings and feels an aching emptiness, like there’s something more to the Miraculous that’s been sealed away.

“We can give you resources. Money, connections, experience. Robin is good with technology. He can help you track down where Hawkmoth is.”

Marinette’s laugh is bitter. “Sure, he can try, but the butterflies Hawkmoth sends out aren’t visible by the normal human eye or electronically until they’ve found their mark. Once they’re purified, they’re just normal butterflies, and they go off in random directions.”

“Normal human eye? It sounds like there are exceptions.” Damian readjusts himself. He has fidgeted his way into an uncomfortable looking seiza position, where his ankles are bleeding.

“A true holder can see the butterflies at all times.”

Marinette also decides to throw them a bone so there’s no questions as to why a mere civilian is working with Ladybug. “That’s why Ladybug recruited me. I was Multimouse.”

Multimouse was in the file that Damian sent his father, but he asks, just to make sure. “The one that can split itself?”

“That’s correct. I guess now is as good a time as any for the two of you to get your questions answered.”

“Why are you the point of civilian contact instead of any of the other more frequently used heroes? Didn’t you appear only once?” Damian avoids looking Marinette in the eyes, and that makes her feel slightly better. He’s ashamed of his actions. Good.

“Ladybug said that the other hero’s civilian forms were either compromised or not in a good position.”

“Ladybug knows who all the holders are.” Batman speculates. He looks less tense now that Damian is no longer tied up, but his voice remains gravelly and distrubed. Maybe that’s what he sounds like all the time. “Who else knows? Do you?”

“Only Ladybug knows.” Marinette lives in half truths. She’s not sure that they’re much better than lies, but they’re all she has. Secrecy is the only thing Master Fu has sincerely taught her.

“Why have all the other heroes disappeared?”

“Ladybug said that it was too dangerous for someone who could be akumatized to hold a Miraculous. Rena Rage, Shell Shock, Queen Wasp-- they were all frighteningly powerful akumas. It’s also why Chat Noir has been showing up less and less; his home life is not the best, and she’s trying her best to ensure that he doesn’t get akumatized.”

“She’s not worried for herself or,” Damian’s eyes flick to Marinette, away from Batman. “For you?”

“She knows that both of us are good at dealing with stress. We have our own methods of coping.” She looks at Damian, her mouth tightening into a frown. “If you want to stay in Paris, I’ll cut you a deal. We can work together for two weeks, and if we don’t get any results, you have to leave and the Justice League must promise that they won’t interfere again.”

“Two weeks isn’t enough time,” Damian objects.

“If you don’t think it’s enough time, just leave now. I’ll say now that I’m only willing to work with you during the night. That’s the time I work on Miraculous related stuff now, anyways. And stay out of the akuma battles.” She doesn’t actually think that working together will help anyways, and she wants Damian gone sooner rather than later. He’s been making her feel too much and emotions that are far more explosive and easy to take advantage of than Marinette has in a long time. She doesn’t want to be targeted by an akuma because of her inner conflict.

“Two weeks, then,” Batman agrees. “Robin can contact me if you need any extra resources.”

Marinette hangs up and assesses Damian. He looks almost pitiful, with bruising around his eyes, tousled hair, a ripped suit, and cuts where his skin is exposed. She opens her trap door in a clear gesture for him to depart. Downstairs is dark; her Maman and Papa have long since gone to sleep, and it’s only a few more hours until they wake up to start baking. “We start tomorrow. If you need Ladybug for anything, tell me.”

He’s half way down the ladder when he looks back up at Marinette, into her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Marinette can’t breath. She feels like vomiting. His eyes are so green in comparison to the purple bruising on his face. She did that to him. She made him look that way. All she’s ever wanted to do as Ladybug is protect the people she cared for. But Damian-- Marinette doesn’t know. She doesn't know whether what Damian has done can actually be described as bad. He was just trying to do what Batman told him to do. Keeping an eye on a threat. Marinette wonders how long he thought she was Hawkmoth. She wonders if he ever thought they were friends.

“I’m sorry too,” Marinette says, and shuts the trap door.

They’re both sorry for very different things.

#miraculous ladybug #dcu #mlb x dc #maribat #daminette #batfam #jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayso #barbara gordon #sbgs #original content #adrien agreste #lila rossi #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne

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hardkinkbardkink · 4 years ago

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G axii's J, at the beginning making him curious about what G tastes and feels like. Maybe he ends up licking G's stuff while getting off but it's not enough. G axii's him into being curious while G sleeps so J hesitate at first but lust wins over and starts licking and touching G at night and G made it so he's more aroused than he ever has been and it takes him just a few touches and licks to get off. Then G makes him desperate to get fucked while G sleeps. J knows it's wrong but so desperate

ok so this continues to not be the prompt i meant to post a week ago but jesus h christ on a bicycle i just,,, loved this so much it wrote itself

i struggle with finishing shit because life is stressful but im trying my darndest loves x

***

It's like a horrible, burning itch that Jaskier can't quite scratch.

He drools at just the sight of Geralt's thick, leather-clad thighs squeezed around the saddle, longing for it to be his own head crushed between them instead.

A deep, long drink from his waterskin bares the elegant line of Geralt's throat, little glittering drops slipping down the skin, and it's enough to have Jaskier's cock swelling in his breeches.

He barely gets through the day, squeezing himself periodically just to keep the desire at bay, though it stirs in his belly each time his witcher as much as breathes.

Nightfall is a blessing and a curse all at once.

It's a blessing because Geralt goes off to take care of his contract, disappears between the trees and leaves Jaskier alone with his dirty, filthy thoughts.

It's a curse because Jaskier gets left alone with his dirty, filthy thoughts, and no one to stop him indulging in them.

He drops to his knees on Geralt's bedroll, hand already fisting his cock frantically. The smell is faint when he pressed his face to the material, faint and unsatisfying and Jaskier knows what Geralt smells like after a day's journey, he--

Jaskier takes a deep breath and gathers his composure, grip slipping from his cock. Focus. Focus.

Geralt's bag is stuffed full of dirty clothes in need of laundering. Or, rather, dirty clothes smelling so incredibly strongly of stale sweat and musk and manthat Geralt insists are clean just because they aren't splattered with guts.

The scent used to repulse him, once upon a time. Now, fuck, now it makes his head spin and his cock drip, so Jaskier gulps down hungry lungfuls of it. He draws out a shirt that Geralt wore just yesterday, buries his face in it until it nearly smothers him. Reluctantly, he goes back to stroking his cock, Geralt's scent in his nose making it feel like he'll spill any second now. Jaskier's tongue darts out on its own volition, the linen rough against it. Jaskier searches desperately for any trace of Geralt's taste; imagines the way the shirt stretched across Geralt's broad chest, tight around his biceps. In his mind's eye, Jaskier sees himself worshipfully sucking Geralt's nipples through the fabric, wanting only for a taste, a tease, anything Geralt would give him.

Jaskier comes into his fist with a choked gasp and fabric on his tongue, wishing only it were Geralt instead.

***

How does it only get worse when the urge wasn't there at all just a fortnight ago.

A muscle twitches beneath his eye, Jaskier's entire body pulled taut in restraint. He can't move because if he does--

He blinks. The bed creaks. He finds himself on his side, so very close to where Geralt lies asleep, warm and gorgeous and Jaskier--

He blinks again. There's a hand resting on Geralt's bare abdomen. With considerable horror, Jaskier realises it is his own. He tries to pry it away, he wants to just get a grip, go back to sleep, stop thinking about--

Geralt holding him down, taking whatever he wants from him. Pulling on Jaskier's hair and pushing his face into his taint, making Jaskier suck on his balls and choke on his cock. Spit, slap, bite. Take, take, take, until Jaskier's all fucked-out and dumb and Geralt goes in for more.

He can't. He can't have that. But if--

Well, if he just--if Jaskier leaned in, just a little, if he just pulled Geralt's bottoms down a bit, if he tasted his beautiful cock--

It'd make him feel so much better, Jaskier can feel it. Just a taste and he could sleep, and his skin would stop crawling with need, and his prick would stop leaking.

Just a taste, he thinks feverishly as he slips the waistband of Geralt's pants down. He tucks it beneath his balls, his cock soft and still so, so big, resting against his hip.

Jaskier leans down, tongue already out, and the first touch of it to hot, glorious flesh makes pleasure shudder through him. He can barely contain the moan that yearns to spring from his throat. Taking just the fat head of Geralt's cock into his mouth, Jaskier sucks and licks and drools on it until it begins to swell, each twitch making his own arousal throb through his veins. He slides lower, and when Geralt's half-hard cock threatens to enter his throat, Jaskier comes all over the sheets underneath him, harder than he ever had, whining even with his mouth full.

He's still shaking when he starts to gently bob his head. It feels like someone's touching his prick, like a constant, tortuous drag of warm flesh against him even as he thrusts his hips into the air. He whines, again, and Geralt's cock twitches as he tries to fit it all down his throat.

Jaskier's eyes stay shut; there's no need to open them, really, when he quakes through another release that sends them rolling back before he'd even managed to come down from the last one. Gods, he never wants to stop, never wants to live again without knowing what Geralt tastes like, what he feels like, what he makes Jaskier feel. His thighs shake underneath him. Jaskier almost takes Geralt's beast of a cock all the way to the base when he's flung into another mind-numbing release. Tears fall freely from his eyes. His prick throbs, spent, and yet it feels like he could come forever.

A pleasant fog settles over Jaskier's mind, and for some moments he exists only suspended between sucking Geralt's cock and coming, coming, coming again and again until his prick can't get hard anymore, just hangs limply between his legs, pulsing come.

It takes Geralt a long time to come, but Jaskier sobs with relief when he feels it. He can't quite taste the seed when it spills so far down his throat, and he wails at that, frantically pulling off to catch as much of it as he can on his tongue. His body seizes with a release so powerful he can't breathe, curled in on himself, pleasure like a current rushing through his veins.

Jaskier swallows and cries himself to sleep, mourning the fact that he can't keep Geralt's cock in his mouth forever.

***

It's too much.

Too far.

Too--

Jaskier can't, he cannot, he thinks as he rides his own fingers, shoulder pressed against Geralt. The bed moves with him and he bites his tongue, glad for how deeply Geralt sleeps after a hunt.

He's close to tears already with how desperately hollow he feels. Even sucking Geralt's cock can't quench this ache between his legs. He thinks two fingers are probably enough when he wants it to hurt, wants to stay tight so Geralt--

No. Gods, no, he's not going to--

"Fuck," he whines, not meaning to do it out loud.

Would Geralt mind, if Jaskier took his pleasure? If he offered pleasure in return? Geralt always comes when Jaskier touches him at night--and Jaskier comes so many times he can barely look at his abused prick without hurting--so maybe he'd want this, too?

Maybe?

Jaskier finds himself slobbering too eagerly all over Geralt's cock, though it doesn't give him the usual rush. He needs it, needs it more than anything, so he's quick to straddle Geralt's thighs, quick to seat himself all the way on that godly, magnificent cock. A sob shakes his body, and then a moan, and Jaskier spills violently over Geralt's abdomen as soon as he's full. His hole spasms. His head spins, but he hopes it's good for Geralt. He hopes it's so very good for Geralt as he begins bouncing enthusiastically, feeling like his release never tapers, like he's coming for minutes and hours and years, trembling through it.

He can't keep quiet anymore, pitiful moans scratching his throat raw, only them and the slick sound of his greedy, needy hole working Geralt's cock.

Jaskier thinks he might go mad of this curse of an orgasm doesn't release him from its clutches. He could pull away, make it stop.

He doesn't want to.

Instead, he goes faster, rides Geralt with devotion and determination, spasming around him frantically, drooling his own seed to catch in the hairs on his witcher's belly.

He wants--gods, but he wants--

Geralt's wrist is limp when he picks it up, though his hands are still so big and strong and rough. The unrelenting ecstasy seems to only spike when Jaskier brings Geralt's hand up to wrap it gingerly around his own throat. He puts his own palm over it and squeezes, all sound dying in his windpipe. A good thing, with how badly he wants to scream his pleasure to the world.

He nearly does scream, though in fear, when the fingers twitch against his skin and the grip grows tight, tight, tight, spots of colour stealing into Jaskier's vision. Golden eyes stare at him intently aa he writhes in Geralt's lap, impaled on his cock, squeezing around him like a good little whore.

"What a mess."

Jaskier shudders at the rough gravel of Geralt's voice, flushed with hot shame. He scrambles to drag his fingers through the seed he'd smeared all over Geralt, tries his best to lick it off with his lungs throbbing dully and his mouth hanging open.

He blinks, but maybe it's just him slipping out of consciousness. No matter; he's on his back, now, Geralt's cock drilling into him insistently, rearranging his insides, his whole world to fit him. Jaskier comes, and comes, and comes, and when Geralt pumps him full of hot seed, he screams.

#cw noncon #cw mind control #altho jaskier doesn't know about it #idk it's a weird thing #cw somnophilia #i guess?????

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yaneyanedaze · 4 years ago

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Uhhh shit 👀💦 either Android Lucio or Mccree

WE’RE DOING BOTH BECAUSE YOU GAVE ME MY TWO FAVORITE CHARACTERS!

(Literally have an Oc that I self ship with her okay? I may have a small problem..) anyways!

ON WITH THE HEADCANONS!

Also sorry this is so late-

———————————————————————

Lucio Correia Dos Santos

He is an example of the Healerdroids! A set of Androids for S/o’s who may be really clumsy (I.E me lol) or who may have conditions that require constant help or care from someone.

To awaken your Luciodroid, you can do several things! But there are only two that are recommended for the safety of the owner.

1) Play one of his mixtapes, he comes packages with his entire DJ set so he should have some of his mixtapes with him. If you do this he will begin singing along and will walk out with a smile saying “Hey! You have great taste~”

2) Ask him if he’d like to dance. Lucio loves dancing so if you played some music, (brownie points if it’s his) and ask him politely to dance with you. He will bust out the crate with happiness and start dancing along with you. “You’ve got some Killer moves!”

Lucio is great for children! He loves kids and will go out and play soccer or many other games with the children. It’s just something about them that causes them to clique and fit together like puzzle pieces.

He loves animals! Especially frogs!

If you took him to a pet shop he’d beg you to get him a frog so he can take care of it (He’d name it Luci.) It reminds him of himself!

Another thing Lucio is great at is cooking, he will wake you up with a scent so good you’ll practically be floating out the bed to come downstairs. You like pancakes? He’ll whip you up the fluffiest pancakes in the world. Bacon? Crisp and Perfect!

Lucio is also perfect boyfriend material, so if you’re looking for an Android for romantic reasons he is wonderful, he’ll love and care for you until death do you part.

“Um..I made a tune for you, well it turned into an album. Don’t worry babe! I kept it nice and easy for you~ I have that playlist for private reasons~”

Jesse McCree

You want a cowboy? But have bad anxiety and hate socializing with people? Well I have someone especially for you~!

Meet Jesse McCree! Your rootin’, tootin’ cowboy Android! Ordering and specially made for you. Programmed for you, he has all your likes and dislikes, preferences in his systems!

There is only one way for you to wake up the wonderful Jesse McCree,(and I think you know what im talking about-)

1) Stand a ways away from the box as it sits in your room. Make sure you’re in another room but can still hear you. Bust out with the phrase :

“It’s High Noon McCree!”

McCree would bust open the door, glowing brightly as he steps out repeating said phrase before realizing where he is. He chuckles and walks around until he finds you. “Jesus! Don’ scare me like that girl, I thought you were the enemy!”

McCree is a huge cuddle bug, he will sit on the couch all day with you and just talk to you all day about how your day was. And what would you like to do for the rest of the day.

He can also cook, if you like southern styled cooking then you’ll love what he cooks. Pan fried steak? Country fried chicken? Mashed potatoes? Talk about a whole meal down here.

“Come on Darlin’, Let’s go out today, Just to the park and have a picnic! Just you and me~ Okay and maybe little sparky!”

#lucio correia dos santos #lucio headcanons #lucio x reader #overwatch lucio #Jesse McCree #overwatch mccree #mccree x reader #McCree headcanons #overwatch headcanons #yane writes

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comphersjost · 6 years ago

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Happy ➸ Travis Konecny

hello I’m back AGAIN with some TK smut :)) been feeling lots of inspiration lately after a long writers block so yeehaw here you go. i love this dumb angry baby so much.

Words: 1.3k+

Warnings: nsfw, smut, sex, fucking. a bit of overstim seriously this is filthy. like very. get a bible or something. im sorry.

find my masterlist here

If there was one thing you loved about Travis, it was his perception. His ability to read people, to know exactly what they need. To know exactly what you need. Sometimes it consisted of cuddling on the couch watching Disney movies. And other times… well it consisted of tying you up and spending hours with his head between your thighs. Either way? He knew.

Tonight was one such night. You heard the click of the key slide into the lock and the door open. You'd given him the key to you apartment after a little over a month of almost constant hook ups. He's been gone for 5 days, and of course he'd come to see you first, before anyone else. One look at you and he knew it was your mother, bothering you about being single, not finding a “nice boy to settle down with”. You sighed at that. It wasn't really her fault. If the press hasn't even picked up on the fact the you and Travis are sleeping together, then how would she? But still, it annoyed you infinitely.

“Your mom again?” TK rumbles, dropping his keys on the table and kicking the door shut behind him, locking it without taking his eyes from you. He doesn't move from his place by the door until you nod, sighing.

“I know she just wants me to be happy but I…” you drift off, tears welling in your eyes. “It’s just so frustrating, especially because… because I am happy.” Your words warms Travis’s heart, so much so that he almost doesn't feel the pang in it at seeing you in distress. It's then he takes off his jacket, slowly, allowing you to savor the sight. Even through your distress, you couldn't help but be reminded of how attractive this man was. And you couldn't help but he reminded that of all the people in the world, he chose you. And that makes you feel just a bit better.

Travis drapes his jacket over the sofa and strides over to you, curled up on the couch. “C’mere,” he whispers, pulling you into his arms. You're used to being held securely in his arms, so the sudden feeling of not being on a flat surface feels normal to you. Your curl up around him, burying your face in his neck as he shifts you so that he's carrying you bridal style. You almost scoff at the thought, considering the two of you aren't even officially dating. Just sleeping together, fucking around.

Travis walks the two of you to your bedroom, his heavy footfalls lulling you into a sense of peace.

His breath hitches at the soft wet kisses you press against his neck. “Lemme take care of you,” he murmurs into your curls, nudging the door to your room open with his foot. He uses his hip to push the door shut before setting you gently on the bed. He mouths at your throat as soon as you're laying back against the sheets. “Gonna let me take care of you, honey? Hm?” You whine softly as he sucks a mark into the spot above your pulse. “Gonna let me make you feel good? Take your mind off everything?”

“Yes,” comes your hum of approval. TK peppers soft kisses against your skin, leaving as many marks as he can. Soft, breathy moans escape your lips as he marks you up. You're his; you know it and he knows it.

“M’gonna treat you so good, honey.” Your breathing almost stops at the words muttered against your collar bone. “Gonna make you forget. Gonna make you focus on me. That sound good, hm?” You can only whimper in response.

Travis let's a rough hand slips under your too-big t-shirt, reaching to unclasp your bra before he realizes that you aren't wearing one. “Fuck,” he swears, reaching for your breast, pinching the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You keen and arch your back.

“Travis, please.” He chuckles and only leaves another mark on your skin.

“Relax, baby,” you can hear the grin in his voice, and feel it on your skin. “M’gonna take it slow today. Gonna hold you ‘n make you fall apart.”

Your mouth drops open at his words. It was never slow with Travis. He was rough, quick, fucking you so that you couldn't even think. Orgasms with TK were mind blowing, they had you seeing white. He had you seeing white. He knew you, your body inside and out, he knew exactly how to treat you and what you needed. No one knew you better than TK, and yet, he wasn't yours. Just a friend. A friend you happened to be having wild sex with almost everyday for the past 5 months.

He continues to tug and pinch at your abused nub, his lips on your neck never letting up. You gasp and moan and wriggle around, if only for him to give your nipple some sort of relief. He does, for a moment, only to move to the other side and give your other breast the same treatment. “TK, please, please, I need you.”

Travis’s lips come back to your jaw at your whimpered words. His mouth is pressing softly against your jaw, your cheeks, lips, nose. “Need me, huh?” He tugs roughly at your nipple again.

You're so overwhelmed with emotion that your eyes start to fill with tears. “Please,” your voice is hoarse and thick, and it makes him pull back to look at you. You stare at him, silently pleading him not to press. “Can't wait for you, need you.”

Thankfully, he relents. “Okay, honey, alright,” he pulls your shirt up and over your head before moving down your body. “You're alright, angel, I got you, I got you baby.” The sweet names he’s calling you don't make your emotions go away, in fact they only strengthen everything you're feeling. Travis tugs at your sweatpants, wasting no time as he pulls them down your legs and off of you.

You barely remember that you haven't shaved anything before the though his lost in TK’s lips on your thighs. It didn't matter anyways, he didn't care if you shaved or not, and at this point - you couldn't wait.

Travis slowly spreads your legs open and buries face nose in your clothed cunt, nose nudging at your clit through the cotton. You moan out, wanting to plead for him but somehow not being able to find your voice. His tongue slips out to lick a line up your panties. His thumbs hook on either side of the material, sliding them off of you. You though he was done making you wait, but instead of touching you where you need him, TK kisses and sucks and licks at your thighs.

“I have you, baby, I got you,” he repeats. “I got you, I got you.” He says it like a mantra as he marks up your thighs, and just as you're about to grab his hair and lead him to your center, he dives into your pussy. A cry escapes you, habit causing you to attempt to close your legs. But - fuck - Travis is so big and his broad shoulders keep you legs open for him.

“Tra-Trav-Travis,” you plead for more, even though he's giving you everything you wanted and needed. “Travis, fuck fuck fuck.” He’s sucking roughly at your clit, moving his head back and forth so that you can feel him. Fuck you can feel every bump and ridge of his tongue. You want to beg, but for what, you're not sure.

Travis mouths your clit, his hand coming up to rub his thumb slowly against your clit. He wasn't playing, he’s taking his time with you tonight. The slow circles he's rubbing and his tongue sliding through your wetness and into you usually wouldn't be enough to get you off, but for some reason you're already climbing closer and closer to your peak. It feels like hours that his mouth is on you, and it feel so so good.

“Taste so good, honey,” he says against your cunt, “love this pussy. All mine, hm?” You don't have it in you to answer. You want to say Yes. Yes I’m yours, you own me but you're so scared that if you speak you'll tell him what you really mean. How you really feel. You gasp and jerk when his palm collides with your thigh. “I said all mine, hm?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whine, back arching when he pulls your sensitive nub back into his mouth and slides two incredibly thick fingers inside of you. “M’all yours, all yours, Trav- fuck.” You can barely speak, can barely form words in your brain right now. Fuck, he's treating you so good. “Yours yours yours.”

“C’mon, honey, think you can come for me? Want you to come for me honey.” The words bring you so much closer to your peak. You finally look at Travis, only to find his eyes already on you. They're so dark and blown with lust and fuck he's gonna make you come. “Come for me, honey, I got you.”

“T-Travis, m’gonna come, m’gonna come, please please please.”

Fuck his fingers move faster inside you, so thick that you felt stretched around only two of them. He hums against your clit and you cry out again. “Please please.” You don't know what your begging for. He slams his fingers back into you and you're there. “Travis! Fuck fuck fuck m’coming, I’m coming!” Your orgasm rips through your belly, he built you up so that it could tear you down. You see stars and fuck you need him to go slow more often.

You're writhing around, shaking and clenching around his fingers. He doesn't let up, working through your high and still going when you start to come down. You whine, reaching for his hair to push him away from your over sensitive cunt. Instead you find yourself pulling him down again, his tongue doing wonders to you.

“Ah ah ah, Travis, please I’m so-oh!” His mouth is off of you now, a third, thick finger sinking into you, thumb toying with your clit again. You're so swollen and hot and absolutely wrecked and Travis can't help but think that he's never seen anything so beautiful. His fingers move faster, TK is desperate to push you over the edge again, needs to make you fall apart again. And before you know it, you are.

You can't speak this time, moaning incoherently. A few tears slip down your face, you're so so sensitive and fuck, he's fucking you through it with his fingers. You feel destroyed when you come down from your high, but you need Travis, you need his cock inside you. TK eases his fingers out of you, pussy clenching around him as he does so. He licks his fingers clean, keeping his eyes locked with you.

Your legs feel weak, so you just let them fall open when TK stands and moves out from between them. What a sight you must be, you think, flushed and red and swollen, pussy on display for anyone that were to walk in. You look absolutely wrecked and looking down at you, Travis can't help but feel proud that he's the one you're wrecked for.

“Love you like this,” he mumbles, a blush creeping up his neck as if he's embarrassed to tell you what he's thinking. “All spread out ‘n marked up like this. You look so beautiful like this. All mine.” Your half lidded eyes blink slowly up at him, and you think for a split second that he might feel the same. Nolan’s words echo in your head. ‘Why aren't you two together already? He’s whipped, I’m sick of watching him make googly eyes at you like that’ which he immediately followed up with a faux gag.

The notion that he might feel for you like you do for him is gone in a split second when he starts to strip. He was just here to fuck. You'd return the favor and take care of him next time he has a tough loss, that was it.

Even if your thing or whatever this was hurt you, God, he was beautiful. He lets his gray t-shirt fall to the floor and reaches for his belt, unbuckling the leather and then unbuttoning his jeans. The denim falls to floor, quickly followed by Calvin Klein boxers. He was so fucking big, every time you two fucked, you doubted that he'd fit.

Travis clambers on the bed, sliding his hips in between your legs. The head of his cock catches on your slit and you let out a moan. TK’s calloused hand comes up to your face to brush a strand of curly hair from your face. “Imma make you feel good, pretty girl.”

“You already have,” you chirp back, earning a soft laugh from him.

“Don't want me inside you then?” Travis teases back. “That’s alright then, I can go.” You make a noise of protest and your hand comes up to cup the back of his neck, pulling his lips down to yours. It's the first proper kiss you've had all night, soft, slow, gently. This kiss isn't like your usual kisses; those were rushed, desperate. He kisses you desperately, but for another reason, and slowly. You let the warmth flood your belly. He wants to take care of you.

His hand cups your jaw, pulling away from you for a moment to change the angle, scruff along his jaw rubbing deliciously against your face. You tug gently at his bottom lip, cupping his face with both your hands. You hope that the way you kiss him conveys every emotion you feel for him. You don't think you can handle the humiliation of admitting your feelings out loud, so the kiss will have to do.

While your lips are connected, Travis sinks into you without warning. You break away from him to moan loudly. He’s slowly inching his cock into your waiting, soaked pussy. “That's it, honey,” he moans. “Thatta girl. You can take it honey, I got you. Take all of me.” And you do. You're so stretched and full by the time he's bottomed out that you think he's gonna split you in half. He's so fucking long and thick and you think you've never been so stuffed before.

“Trav-fuck you feel so fucking good.” The corners of Travis’s mouth curl up at your words, your eyes fluttering shut.

“Think you can look at me, baby?” he questions softly, running his thumb over your lip. “Want you to look at me when you come, honey, wanna see you.” Your eyes slowly open again, eyelids feeling heavy.

“Mhm,” is all you can manage before he's moving. His movements aren't like the usual quick, rough, thrusts. He's grinding into you, the skin of his pelvis barely disconnecting from you. His hips roll against you, and he's hitting a spot so deep in you you've never felt it before, and you definitely don't think anyone will be able to fuck you like this ever again. He's ruined all other men for you.

You say his name like a prayer, and he's the fucking god. Travis connects your lips again, swallowing all the moans leaving your mouth. You keen and writhe for him, he's so good, he's so so good.

“Want you to come again, baby, m’not gonna last long,” come his words against your mouth. “Think you can do that for me? Come one more time for me, baby?” You nod, forehead pressed against his. You yelp when he reached down to press his thumb against your clit.

“Come for me honey, open your eyes, look at me when you come.” The authority in his voice leaves you no choice but to obey. It’s so hard to keep your eyes open when your orgasm hits, but the way he's looking at you - fuck you love the way he looks at you. Like the only thing in the world. Like he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. Like he loves you.

“Ah! Fuck! Travis!”

TK let's out an animalistic moan, actually thrusting this time as he fucks into you, chasing his orgasm and dragging yours out. “Fuck! Y/N! I’m coming, Y/N, fuck.” He grips your hips, stilling and muscles clenching as he shoots ropes of his cum into you. And you can feel him, fuck, you can feel him inside you, thrusting a couple more times to make sure his cum stays in you, before slowly dragging himself out. You whine at the way he stretches you out and then you feel empty.

Travis doesn't bother to clean either of you up, just slipping you both under the covers and wrapping an arm around your waist. You wonder why it hasn't occurred to you how tired he must be - a long road trip and coming back to fuck you. He presses soft kisses all over your face, causing you to giggle and push him away by the shoulder. You can feel his smile against the skin of your neck, where you're all marked up, his beautiful smile.

“You okay, honey?” he murmurs. “Better now?” You hum a soft yes.

You lay in silence for a few minutes before you break it, “Trav?”

“Hmm? What's up pretty girl?” he slurs, drawing patterns into your thigh. Your voice is raw, throat rough from exertion.

“I think-” you force yourself to continue. “I think I found someone, maybe, I don't know. I don't know if he...if he feels the same.” TK is wide awake at that.

He tries to hide the hurt he feels when he speaks. “You’re seeing someone?”

“Well-” you pause. Did this count? “Not exactly, we've been...hooking up. I like him a lot. I might even love him. My mom really likes him too. But I don't think he feels the same.”

He feels his heart break. Your mom likes this mystery man, and if there's one thing that Travis knows, is that your mom liking the people in your life is the most important thing to you. And even worse, TK isn’t only one that’s been in your bed. You’re his. “Who?” TK sounds hurt, heartbroken, and for some fucked up reason it gives you a rush of confidence - he does like you! And you know that this is the moment that changes everything.

“The only other person that has the key to my apartment.” You find the courage to turn to look at him. His eyebrows are furrowed in confusion.

“But that's…” his eyes widen in realization. “That's me,” he breathes. “Oh thank God. I thought you didn't feel the same and Nolan kept telling me to fucking ask you out on a date and I didn't know how to tell him that we were already sleeping together and that I’m literally in love with you and that I didn't think that you like me like that and-” You cut him off with a kiss.

“I love you, Travis.” You can help the smile that overtakes your face. “But I’m tired, and completely fucked out, and I wanna sleep. We can talk about the first date in the morning, hm?”

“After I fuck you awake,” Travis grins, and he leans in to kiss you.

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gardengnosticator · 5 years ago

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this is going to be the last chapter of my fic im posting on here. i guess i’ll keep updating it on my ao3 that ive now set up because apparently i’m writing things now and people are liking them.

its a bit of a follow up to the last entry but again just a snapshot. sorry.

It had been a good few weeks since Terezi’s emergency trip to get twelve stitches in her brow and despite all the compliments from both Vriska and Jade, every time she caught a look of herself back stage in the dressing room as rare and as complimentary as those were she just couldn’t get over the new look. And no matter how many times Vriska commented on how “hardcore and totally badass” Terezi looked or how Jade tried to help the Pyrope style her hair it was definitely going to scar up and it was going to be there forever. A constant reminder of the times on the road. Maybe she was beginning to soften up to it a little bit. Just a little bit of course.

It was one of the rarer days on the road for the group, with no performance scheduled they had decided as a group to drive into town and lodge up at one of the closest Internet cafes they could reach. It had been… twenty weeks, probably, since they last updated their Bandcamp profile and considering that Jade had been around a good five of those weeks and had certainly added a much needed acoustic taste to the usually loud and deafening punk tones the group had decided that they should upload some new material. Plus it was always good to have a secondary source of income to rely on, though that source could be a little bit better if Vriska wasn’t adamant about pricing all their albums for $8.88 for whatever strange and otherworldly reason compelled her to do that.

Quite a sight it was, two girls sporting the most feral and unkempt hair imaginable and a third one with a slightly more reasonable cut huddled around a computer, trying desperately to upload files off a USB that looked as if it had dropped into an open can of beer (though Jade refused to budge from her story that it was just a can of soda). But it was a very welcome reprieve for the girls, when you’re livelihood is based around travelling across the country, never really spending time in one place for more than a day or even just a night, it didn’t leave a lot of chances to sit around and take things in. And here, sitting in a terribly cramped manner the three of them were doing just that. One by one they uploaded their new songs to their profile and after flicking through Terezi’s phone long enough Vriska found a perfect cover photo for the album. The three of them, taken the very second Terezi had her stitches put in, posing around her as she sat in a hospital bed, all three of the girls beaming widely.

Once the official business was done it really just left them to their own devices, each girl taking their time to check their emails, Vriska was the kind to never delete a single message from her inbox, while Terezi had a routine system dedicated sorting her emails between her primary, social and promotions tab in her account. Jade’s however? Surprisingly empty. A few spam messages detailing the astounding prizes she had won but other than that nothing. She looked a little forlorn as she she scrolled through them, so forlorn that Vriska went out of her way to elbow her in the side so she could take the keyboard and pull up Youtube. On the road lonesome blues don’t tend to sting as much when you have an infinitely growing list of cute dog videos to watch. Or well that would be the case if the video Vriska had pulled up wasn’t “Top 10 Most Dangerous Skateboarding Injuries.”

And so the three girls just sat there, all cramped up by each other’s shoulder as they all watched intently, hissing with mock pain and laughing as the three of them just held on to one another by their sides, a very awkward daisy chain of arms behind their backs as both Vriska and Terezi rested their heads on Jade’s shoulders as they just let autoplay lull them into a incredibly warm sense of security, no pressure, no burdens, no expectations, just three girls going out and playing their hearts out night after night for them and themselves alone. It wasn’t until the clerk woke them up to inform them that they’re three hour time limit was up and that their snoring was disturbing the other patrons. Vriska cursed him out as Terezi and Jade groggily got to their feet and the trio began to trod their way out of the store.

The afternoon was brighter than they expected, perhaps from being huddled up inside a computer cafe for a good three plus hours had done something to their eyes because they all groaned loudly and hurried into the cool inviting form of the beat down van. Back onto the road, back into the hustle and bustle of “touring”, in fact as Vriska checked the cracked screen of her phone she revealed at the number of texts the group had received while out, not that any of them had a dollar of phone credit between them. Jade played eeny, meeny, many and moe with the texts to figure out which one they would reverse dial to set up a performance with and Terezi made herself busy getting comfortable in the passenger seat. She stared out of the window and noticed her reflection in the side view mirror. Terezi Pyrope noticed the scar on her brow and she smiled. No way of forgetting that memory. Or this one, as the other two girls piled into the van and set off.

#jadevrisrezi #my garbage trash fic that's worse than the epilogues

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unproduciblesmackdown · 6 years ago

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oh, continuing on from too-long, incoherent post made hours ago when nobody was online, obvs, No-Friends Club members put ur hands in—

one weird thing i remembered is the Experience of like, time to put interpersonal boundaries in place by setting boundaries on My Own Emotions, you know what i’m saying! like for example the Cold Math issue of having no friends, where like, you have a few ppl who talk with you, and just like, thanks to proportions and statistics alone, on your end its like thank god for these noble few who are each like, 490% of the good interactions you get in life, the beautiful line of defense between you and utter isolation, and on their end its gonna be like, you’re a person they talk to sometimes. and that’s too easy to forget sometimes so i just commit to remembering it, and like, deliberately Not getting overenthused/overinvested about it, cuz it’s just not fun to sorta put the cart before the horse and then have the repeated realization that you’re really not going to be an official friend or whatever or that significant a figure in other ppl’s lives. rough!! you know what i’m talking about re: this experience?

it’s just tricky and i don’t even entirely have a handle on it to this day (tho a way better handle on it than when i had to figure out how this situation worked years ago) in part cuz like, actually, despite having been isolated in varying degrees for like, basically my whole life except less during college tho i often had Big Lonely problems then too, despite that and also despite anxiety ishes (issues) and discomfort with social situations sometimes for other reasons, i’m like, actually a real social person when its the kind of social setup i Can be comfortable with, which is a decent variety imo. and i really like people actually, if they arent terrible, and i really like interacting with them If They Arent Terrible, and in theory i would Love to have friends and that’s always been true. and im an enthusiastic and passionate person, what can i say, so it’s a funky time having to reign that in when yknow, generally, like “oh im excited to have a friend” should be a wholly positive sentiment that’s not gonna burn you as long as the other person isn’t evil. but! i do gotta rein in that sentiment. like settle down. like i was saying before about not “hoping” to have friends technically even tho of course i’d always like to and like, if anything erring on the side of caution and not being like, oh yeah these ppl who interact on occasion / amicably with me are my friends. undersell myself eh. if i have friends i’ll try to figure it out after the fact rather than overestimate connections and be disappointed ad infinitum or what have u

also! bring it tf in for ppl with “weird” social skills! losers since preschool or whenever you started being around groups of your age peers! having the intangible Vibe that ppl pick up on and you get sort of socially written off or the Sort-Of-Contempt which is loads of fun. and kind of operating on slightly different frequencies communication wise, or having your social / behavioral cues be misread b/c its not the “normal” meaning, all that kinda thing, so that your Trying To Be Friendly might be Weird In A Bad Way to other ppl, or your social discomfort getting read as “they don’t like us” instead of “they aren’t comfortable with some aspects of this situation”, etc etc etc.....it’s a bummer cuz like, thank god for online socialization b/c in a lot of ways for a lot of reasons its so much more doable for me, but there’s still ways it has downsides, like, i don’t like groupchats which is like, synonymous with We’re Actual Friends Now, so, tough break for me there, and i don’t often start talking to ppl b/c i don’t assume any particular individual would be interested in that and it takes ages for it to occur to me that anyone might, and i don’t think i always am that good at writing my thoughts and also just like In Person i often don’t know what/how to say things even with zero pressure and also just like in person i can be sort of cagey and Underwhelming......whereas IN person i can actually be chatty as fuck and often overtalkative and i like to Get Silly and all that shit. not to say im not underwhelming in person, too! cuz yeah most of the time im overly quiet and people are surprised when i talk or when i make reference to the fact i have Big Opinions and big emotions b/c they thought i just had an equally quiet inner world i guess lol.......like yeah!! on one hand i’m like woops im fucking this up cuz im holding back and on the other hand its like uh oh now im making a mess cuz when i dont hold back im generally not In Accordance With Ppls Tastes And Preferences cuz im being too much. sort of lose-lose-lose. me and cats are the same. also i ought to be better at initiating conversation but i’m crap at it cuz im like, lowkey constant assumption that if ppl arent talking to me they don’t want to and it’d be annoying to say something, which is not Correct. but also i’m always nervous and nervous about ppl. oh well, we’ll get there maybe

anyways i like when characters have no friends and it’s not for lack of trying/wanting them!! it’s a weird experience and ya love that Relatable Material. like its funny alana calling everyone “acquaintances” cuz im out here doing that already lol my friendly acquaintances......like ideally yeah it’d be nice to have close friends but i do appreciate Being A Casual Fixture On The Perimeters Of Someone’s Life And Maybe Sometimes I Get To Be A Small Positive Experience In Their Existence for what it is, but it Is fairly depressing being the fleeting NPC in the outer / tangential orbits of mostly everybody who knows you. c’est la vie!!!! it is both good and not good. anyway back to acquaintances. yeah like seeing that “earnest efforts to have friends but it fails for various reasons” is fun cuz like yeah!! population: Same! though i’ve never really been like that specific character. i also like the book “the murder of bindy mackenzie” and the character is kind of like alana’s too. an academically supersuccessful girl who tries to reach out to her peers but her methods don’t work and she’s misreading others and others are misreading her and she’s distressed about various aspects of her life and also, someone’s trying to kill her. though i wasn’t too much like those other characters either. i feel like luna lovegood makes the list, on account of she like, is just nice and friendly but nobody likes her because of apparently weird interests which shouldnt be considered weird but i guess that was a probably-accidental commentary on how arbitrary Social Acceptability can be, and also because she is sort of unusual in terms of her average demeanor, and that’s not really reason not to like her but not only does she have no friends but also people are just sort of mean to her. feels real man! fondly recalling the times i’ve had to realize in retrospect that people were actually making fun of me...etc etc...other depressing things......and shoutout to the black suits for having that collective representation of varying ways to be a weird dumbass with Issues who nobody likes. very meta that i’ve wished i could be in a shitty for-fun high school garage band for the Hanging Out With Friends aspect of it alone. nato is also great representation for “superlative academic performance but doesn’t actually care about school and only cares about like, a snail he saw today, and being a weird goofaround loser 24/7”

where was i going with this!! just adding on more ideas i guess. Tumblr Mobile Don’t Eat My Post. other lifelong members of the no-friends-and-it-sucks club @ me!! struggling with figuring out how to at least feel more okay with your crappy social experience because there’s no real way to feel good about it but we’re at least trying to feel less bad, @ me! we’re valid and we’re Didn’t Ask For This But Here We Are

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faveanimeships · 6 years ago

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Hi! A male MU for Shokugeki no Souma and Free, please? I'm an INFJ, ravenclaw. 5'2" with pale skin and slim build, I wear glasses and have blue eyes. I love to braid my hair ^^ I'm friendly and quiet but I usually trust people easily and become more talkative fast. I'm still awkward and overthink. I like using dark humor especially and stupid puns make me laugh. Hobbies are cleaning, reading fantasy and geography and walks with my dogs. I don't like public speaking and getting motion sick. TY c:

Hey ya sorry for the wait??? um yea Im an INFJ too yeet but whatever this is about YOU ok den lets get to it

Shokugeki no souma

I ship you with Isami Aldini !

Isami is gentle, understanding (having to put up with Takumi), he’s also very caring (see how he treats his friends), calm and generally a genuinely fun person to be with. Not only that, Isami is a somewhat adventurous person who is willing to take on new experiences if needed (leaving Italy for totsuki, and convincing Takumi to leave too). I think Isami really matches your vibe, and he’ll ease you out of your shell if you need him to. Besides- he’s a great listener and I think he’d love it when you become talkative and tell him a bunch of things- he’d also understand your dark humour and also your puns no less! Both of you would have cute pun sessions when you go on dates (eg: grocery store), y'all have fun and have a good laugh. I feel Isami would love to walk your dogs with you, and you would sneak a quick ice cream date before going home, which is super cute!

Isami is a smart boy like he got into Totsuki after all, so he’d satisfy your intellectual needs as well- he’d love to talk about Italy, and mostly food if you are into food. He’d also cook for you (official taste tester), I feel Takumi would cook for you too and make you pick who cooks the best, but they’re the best when they work together. I also feel like Isami would encourage you to experience new things, would drag you to parties where his chef friends unite and cook nice dishes and all, you’d make great friends through Isami, and he’d welcome you if you’re keen to share the same friendship circle with him.

The downside of dating Isami is that he’s too gentle and caring with everyone, it might seem like you’re not special enough. He’s always smiley as well, so you might be confused. Isami is not a big fan of arguments or fights, and it is most likely he’d just listen to you yell at him and smile at you afterwards, which can be frustrating. I feel like it takes a lot to break him, like his jealousy towards Takumi was only due to the build up of comparison and lack of acknowledgement from his parents. However, he still loves Takumi a lot, which kinda proves that Isami is an amazing and strong person, and I think he believes that the importance of preserving connections with loved ones overrides his personal feelings, so he’d most likely to not fight back- takes a lot to trigger him really. But overall you’d make a great couple, both of you are probably calm and won’t get into many fights- you’d build a connection and a mutually respectful and trusting relationship, which is great for the long term.

Things Isami likes

You eating his food

You liking his food

You laughing at his jokes

Winter cuddles

You loving his winter bod

Trips with you (he loves exploring the city!)

Listening to you talk about geography facts

3 am talks

Spooning you !!!

Ice cream dates after dog walks

(more under the cut)

Free!

I Ship you with Asahi Shiina !

SOFT BOI ASAHI !!! I ship you with Asahi Asahi Asahi - Asahi is bright, vibrant, he’s 100% a gryff or a puff, but probably a gryff tbh- he’s very funny, he’s comical and he’d definitely be an amazing roast material! He’d probably get some of your dark humour (he’s slow) but he’d be great at puns!!! He’s loud but he’d stfu and listen to you when you talk, but he’d also share his ideas and stuff and you guys might find yourselves talking about weird stuff without realising, which is super cute! Asahi himself is a big pupper so he’d get along with your dogs so well, and he’d love walking them with you- he’d be super happy if you do invite him on your walks. Also Asahi understands how it is when you overthink so he tries to be the shoulder you can lean on whenever you overthink. Also Asahi is very outgoing and he’d try to make you feel comfortable whenever he can- this includes when you feel awkward in social situations- he’d just slide in and make sure you’re okay, if you need help he’d gladly slide you out of the convo.

Being with Asahi isn’t constant sunshine and rainbows- Asahi is a very self-conscious person and he’ll try his absolute best to make you feel special and happy and if he starts questioning his efforts he’d start falling apart, but he’s a strong boy and will hold himself up, but if you could be supportive of him and catch him when he starts falling he’d be all good and bubbly in no time. I feel like with this relationship, both of you need each other and support each other equally because I feel Asahi wants equality, and he’d start to doubt himself when he feels that the relationship is unbalanced. Obviously, communication is the key to sustain relationships but this one can last if both of you learn how to trust and love each other wholeheartedly.

Hope you like it sorry for the wait !!!

#matchups #sullimanscat #shokugekimatchup #free! matchup

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wiener-soldiers · 7 years ago

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can’t help falling in love - peter parker

request: I was wondering if you could write a peter parker x reader and have the reader being able to play the Ukulele? And maybe have peter not know she plays and he catching he playing/singing? Lots of Fluff? I hope you notice this! Ps love your writing sweetheart💚 (requested by @nevaehsuga)

summary: As an avid music lover, the ukulele was just another instrument you had learned to play. However when Peter catches you playing, he can’t help but be amazed.

pairing: Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

words: 1,522

warnings: major fluff like i was squealing while i was writing

a/n: first request guys! this was super fun to write, so i hope y’all enjoy. i’m working on a part 2 to Forgiveness in Time, so that’ll be up tomorrow. remember that requests are open and im honestly so happy when i get them! ALSO ITALICS ARE FLASHBACKS!

There were three constants in you life; your love for your family, space, and music.

Growing up, the relationship between you, your parents, and your sibling was tight. No matter the situation, the love shared between yourselves was constant.

Space was also consistent. To anyone else, space is just something out of their reach; a beautiful sight to behold, but no one bothers to look because they are busy sleeping. Not you, though. Although space had always fascinated you (let's be real; NASA was the goal), space was just a way to show that there was so much you didn't know, and that you curiosity was always overpowering.

Music, however, was not an art. To you, it was a religion. From as long as you could remember, music had been incorporated into your life. In the fourth grade, you joined an Honours Choir, signing in competitions all across New York City. In the seventh grade, you joined the middle school band. You picked up the clarinet and played well enough to have been invited to join the New York City Honour Band less than a year after you started to play.

Your love only blossomed from there. When you became old enough to discover Broadway, you immediately fell in love. You bought countless cast albums, and still cry every time you listen to Hamilton. As soon as you started high school, you were auditioning in the school's production of The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Along the way, you mastered the piano, you taught yourself the guitar, and even learning some trumpet.

But the small, charming instrument called the ukulele captured your heart.

In middle school, you were definitely the 'always-on-Tumblr-oh-my-god-Tyler-Joseph-is-my-dad' kid, and after hearing House of Gold by Twenty One Pilots for the first time, you instantly fell in love with the charming stringed instrument, later running to your favourite music store and buying yourself a ukulele.

You picked up the ukulele very quickly after already knowing how to play guitar, and every extra second you had to spare was strumming that instrument.

Which was where you found yourself that Saturday afternoon. Instead of studying for your biology exam, you found yourself distracted and desperately craving the sound of the ukulele. So, you pushed your textbooks aside and grabbed your ukulele, strumming a few chords.

Before you know it, you find yourself strumming the chords to We Don't Believe What's On TV by Twenty One Pilots.

The song was special to you, solely because it reminded you of your best friend, Peter Parker.

You had met him after school during rehearsal night. You were starring as Esmeralda in the Hunchback and slipped out of the auditorium to grab some water while the ensemble was learning some choreography. As you stepped away from the water fountain, you noticed a blur of someone wearing red and blue skin tight material run past you and up the stairs. Curiously, you had followed him.

The staircase lead to an empty hall, aside from Peter Parker standing at his locker, attempting to stuff something inside it.

"Peter?" you call out, "Peter Parker?"

You watched as his head whips around. "Yeah? That's me. Uh--(Y/N)?"

You walk closer to him. The closer you got, the more nervous he seemed.

"What are you doing here this late?" you question.

Peter scratches the back of his neck. "I could ask you the same question."

"I'm at rehearsal. We're doing The Hunchback this year, remember?"

"Oh," was his only response, forgetting to answer your question completely.

You put a hand on your hip and continue, "Say, did you see someone run up here? Clad in red and blue spandex?"

He stutters out a, "No."

"So then what are you doing at your locker?"

"Getting some books I forgot, I told you."

"No, you didn't."

"Didn't what?"

You roll your eyes, getting impatient. Finally deciding that enough was enough, you grabbed the handle to his unlocked locker. Despite Peter's pleas, you yank it open to find the Spiderman suit hung on the coat hook.

"You're Spiderman," you say in disbelief.

"You can't tell anyone."

So you didn't. You and Peter came up with a deal. Peter was in the same Biology class as you were, and as much as you hated to admit it, you needed a tutor. So in exchange for keeping your secret, Peter helped you not only pass, but ace the midterms.

As the months went by, your 'business deal' turned into a friendship, and on your part, love.

You got to the chorus of the song and began to sing.

“I need to know that when I fail you'll still be here,

'Cause if you stick around I'll sing you pretty sounds,

And we'll make money selling your hair.

I don't care what's in your hair,

I just wanna know what's on your mind,

I used to say, ‘I wanna die before I'm old,’

But because of you I might think twice.”

You continue to strum and finish the song with some occasional singing and humming. As you strum the last chord, a slow clapping comes from the fire escape outside your window.

There you find Peter clad in his Spiderman suit, mask off, sitting on your windowsill.

A blush comes up your cheeks as you stand up to close the door and pull him inside your room.

"Pete! What are you doing here? Someone coulda seen you!" you scold him, but your insides were screaming in joy that Peter decided to stop by.

He laughs and slings the backpack he was wearing off his shoulders, gesturing for you to turn around so he can get changed. You quickly spin against your heel, but you manage to sneak a glance at Peter's insanely sculpted back muscles before he slipped on a shirt.

You finally become aware that he had finished changing as you heard the squeak in your mattress as Peter sits down. "I didn't know you could play," he says while inspecting the ukulele laying on top of your comforter.

You sit next to him and smile a little, "I picked it up a couple weeks ago. I haven't really shown anyone. Well, until you showed up."

He laughs and nudges your shoulder before replying, "Well, I'm glad I did because you are absolutely breathtaking."

You stare at him and smile, "Thanks, Pete."

He smiles back and look back at the ukulele, turning it in his hands. He plucks each string one by one, before strumming all four together. He turns to look at you again.

"Teach me?" he asks, looking at you hopefully.

You nod in return and move your hand above his, moving his fingers above certain strings to form a chord.

"Now strum," you instruct.

With his opposite hand, his fingers gracefully strum the strings. The beautiful sound reverberated in your ears.

"I did it!" he says excitedly, with the biggest smile on his face.

You let out a giggle at how cute he was, "Yes you did, you big dork. Now, shut up so I can teach you a song."

After a couple of minutes, he learns the rest of the chords. And in less than an hour, he plays the song almost flawlessly.

You watch him with a smile as he stands up on your bed to do a celebratory dance, ukulele still in his hands.

"Peter!" you manage to say in between your fits of laughter, "come down before you break yourself, or my ukulele!"

He laughs at you, but sits back down beside you nevertheless. You had retreated to the floor, using the bed as a back rest in fear that Peter was going to jump on you.

After the laughter dies, he places the ukulele in front of you and turns to you.

"What song did you teach me anyways? You never told me."

"Oh!" you say with a surprised tone, "it was I Can't Help Falling in Love with You."

"Good," Peter says with a slight smirk on his face.

"What?" you ask, utterly confused.

Peter smiles and shakes his head. "Well," he starts, "it's good to know that the girl you fell in love with can't help falling in love with you, too."

Your mouth drops in shock, trying to process what just happened.

Deciding that it didn't matter you quickly uttered, "Peter Parker, you are the smoothest dork I know," before pressing your lips to his.

He makes a noise in response before responding. His arms find their way to your back, pulling you closer to his honey tasting lips, and your hands find themselves wrapped around his neck, playing with his hair. He begins to lean closer, but accidentally ends up kicking your ukulele in the process, a sour sounding chord playing quietly. You both pull away in laughter.

"I'll make you deal. You keep teaching me how to play, and you'll do me the greatest honour in letting me be your boyfriend," Peter says as he tucks a stand of (Y/H/C) hair behind your ears.

You smile and pull him in for another kiss. You whisper back in adoration, "It's a deal."

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someobscurereference · 7 years ago

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oh ok so fun fact! u totally have multiple fe anons now! XD theres def at least 2 of us, maybe more tho. im NOT the anon from the last ask, but dragons gate idea! holy shit. this is the Dream Scenario, tell me more. like i think the trio would be way more comfy staying knowing they could visit home whenever they wanted. how do encounters with the other future kids go? i imagine that tho they bicker they actually care about one another quite a bit? do the royal sibs get shovel talked?

Multiple!!! Anons!! I guess I’ve been suspecting that for a bit now but it’s finally been #confirmed and I’m still as surprised as if it were day one, lol. I’ve been addressing some asks as though they’re all from the same anon when they’re probably not. Whoops! At least I can be more careful from here on out ;)

Dragon’s Gate Scenario (where the timelines between Nohr and Ylisse actually match up) is best scenario because allowing the Trio to visit their family and and friends without leaving Nohr behind makes my heart warm and happy. I agree that they’d be wayyyy more comfy with this ability. (Also buckle up bc we’re about to talk about some timeline stuff right here)

I’m pretty convinced most the fe13 crew thinks the Awakening Trio is dead by now, tbh. Which makes me so sad!!! And I don’t want it to be true!! But from what it seems, Anankos showed up right when all the future kids were gonna split ways and was like “please save my kingdom” and threw a paper with where to meet (probably wraped around a brick or something and it nearly hits Inigo, lmao) and then he left. So Owain, Inigo, and Severa go off to check it out, but?? They probably didn’t except to be gone for literal years? Because it’s definitely been years.

I think Selena makes some comment that implies she remembers Corrin as a young child but that feels a little too long for me/they still look pretty young in-game, so to me, the Trio has probably been in Nohr for like five (5) years or so? That’s just personal opinion. That number can change, but it’s for sure been years.

When they meet, Anankos is pretty explicit about the fact if they’re going to help him, they have to leave Right Now. No time to send a letter or say goodbye or anything. Instant decision. And the Trio makes the mythical heroic one, the sacrificial one, but at what cost?

It takes a month to travel from Yllise to the meeting place, so all the parents were probably expecting to hear back from their future kids after like a month. And then they… didn’t.

Some of them probably keep hope. Lissa insists that she’d know if her son were gone, she’d feel it, and most believe that she thinks so but Maribelle knows she worries. And with how close Maribelle and Lissa are, Owain and Brady probably grew up together, practically brothers, and Brady’s doubts eat at him like a black hole and he cries practically every time he thinks about it, about the letters he’s never gotten, about the travels they didn’t get to have together now that the war was over, and Owain’s dead, probably, because of something stupid or heroic or both and Brady wasn’t even there to heal him, couldn’t even do that, so useless and—

Sometimes Cynthia sits with him and doesn’t try to cheer him up when he blubbers and at least once she mentions that they aren’t her kinds of heroes, but Owain always liked the type that showed up at the very last second. She’s kinda hoping he’ll still jump out at some point. Who knew being a lone hero was so lonely? She doesn’t say anything after that, and then Brady’s all out of tears.

Olivia practices dances that require two people and waits for her grown son to come home, knowing he probably won’t. Her baby isn’t big enough to dance yet, and that’s amazing and she loves this little bundle of joy and the future she’s going to have with him that another version of her didn’t reach, but she still misses Inigo. Gerome wanted to live a life of solitude with Minerva and the other wyverns and he got it. He sees the other kids the least out of anyone and he knows better than to expect anything good out of the world even with the cruelest future averted, but even he sometimes catches himself staring at his open palm, trying to remember how Inigo’s hand felt in his own when the fool was trying to convince Gerome to come back in time, please, and then when Gerome relented, in the new world Inigo was always pawing at him anyway to come visit these women or that event and—

Gerome has been stuck in the past long enough. He has to look ahead. His hand aches.

Noire was friends with Inigo and Sevena both, and maybe she had a crush on both of them, maybe. Or at least the potential for a crush. Or something adjacent to one. She loved them both so fiercely, the way only dying things loved (because they were all doomed from the start up until they weren’t), and at some point it didn’t matter if she teetered on the edge of romance or not, she loved them. Inigo always flirted with every girl under the sun but her, but it never mattered because in the end she always worried over him anyway. He never learned. And she misses the way Severa would fuss over her too. Sometimes she still wakes up in the night and wishes Severa were there to guide her, even though she’s long since past any need for hand-holding or fussing. She still wants it.

(Sometimes she makes a cake and wonders what Owain would have named it. The sugar always tastes sour those days.)

Cordelia knows better than anyone how greedy war can be, what it can take within seconds. The problem with that is that the war is supposed to be over, but she seems to have lost her daughter anyway. She’s broken her promise never to leave her daughter alone again. Maybe it’s fate; maybe Cordelia is always meant to be the lone survivor. She wishes a lot of things.

Kjelle hasn’t touched makeup since the time Severa tried to teach it to her and she forgot more important things, like how to hold a shield. Sometimes she catches herself staring at the lines of kohl on other girl’s faces and wondering what Severa would have thought, though. Usually that leads to chopping wood and practicing stances for hours on end until she can’t feel her fingers anymore. Kjelle’s never been much for words or contemplation outside the material—what would this move do against that one, is her armor the proper weight still—but she catches herself wondering what Severa would say about trinkets in the store windows more often than she would like. Laurent and Severa have always been opposits, but it worked, somehow, for them, even if it led to bickering more often than not. She forced him out of his comfort zone, and he tempered her, or so he thought. Perhaps Severa would have matured naturally with age. Laurent can come up with a thousand hypotheses now, but he’s never going to know the truth. Not anymore.

And it’s not just them, it’s everyone. It’s Nah missing chasing Inigo around when she got mad at him, though she didn’t really mean it. It’s Yarne missing Severa’s perseverance, her constant push at him to do better. It’s Lucina missing her cousin, who she always admired with the imagination she didn’t quite have and the bravery she shared with him. It’s everyone. They all miss each other in a hundred different ways, and the Trio misses them and home like a drowning man whose adapted to the ocean but can still taste the salt.

—

Uhhhh, that got sad, but anyway!! You’d bet everyone would be ECSTATIC to find Owain/Severa/Inigo alive and well. There would be many a tear. Kjelle would probably punch something. Brady would try to yell at them but he’d be sobbing too hard to actually say anything. Nah would roar with all the power of the dragon she is, and everyone’s parents would hold them hard and not want to let go. Lucina would beam and Gerome would let go of the little string of tension that had been wrapped around his heart for the past few years and Laurent would have to compose himself and Cynthia would be doing flips, and you know there’d be so much yelling. So much. The story would have to come out in bits and pieces because they’d constantly be interrupting one another, on both sides.

I’ve definitely been focusing on the sadder parts of this idea and not the happier ones, so while this answer is getting long, let me try to fix that real fast.

There’s guaranteed to be a lot of fussing over the Trio, who are now like 5 years older than when they last left and maybe? possibly? still disguised with Anankos’ magic? Maybe also that vanishes when they step through the Gate. Unknown. What is also guaranteed, however, is how much fussing the Nohrians get when visiting officially as a mixed group of royals and the Trio’s BFs/GFs.

Xander charms the pants of Olivia, hands down. He’s genuine and kind and charming, and when his back is turned, Olivia looks at her son and blushes because hot damn. Inigo picked a catch. Inigo sees her look and wants to sink into the floor, but she’s not wrong. Also he feels 12 all over again. Olivia offers to dance for him and Inigo wants to join in and he also wants to watch and he’s also too shy to want to dance in front of anybody, even just Xander and his mom, and it makes for an interesting visit for sure.

Leo passes Aunt/Other Mother Maribelle’s Scrutiny Test, but Niles, for all the effort he’s putting in to make a good impression, probably doesn’t. Owain insists Niles isn’t really that bad, he’s loyal like nothing else, and that’s at least a benefit in Maribelle’s book. She’s still suspicious of his seemingly shady character and all the effort he’s putting into looking good for her (because the fact he has to put in effort at all is suspicious to her, and it would have been suspicious if he were a prince or a farmer or anything other than a thief turned royal retainer. The only reason she can’t pin anything on Leo is because he keeps pulling out obscure knowledge to answer all her probing questions and has only the utmost manners. She’s waiting for him to make a cultural faux pas), but Owain is grown now. He can make his own decisions. Besides, if Lissa isn’t complaining, she can’t either. Lissa loves Niles and Leo both. Lissa maybe catches them unawares with the old “bucket of frogs over the doorway” trick, though. She hasn’t changed.

Cordelia’s happy to meet whoever her daughter loves, so long as they give Severa the love she deserves and pretty obviously craves. Not that Cordelia can talk, since she’s been absent from Severa’s life long enough too. She just worries like any normal mother. That Beruka girl is a little stony, but Camilla seems to have enough love for the both of them combined, even if she is a little intimidating too. Cordelia is mostly satisfied. She tries to keep her back straight when they’re looking at her, though. She’s never been one to be intimidated, but she wonders how Severa’s been faring in the seemingly dark land of Nohr. Well, if Severa has people she cares about there, she figures her daughter must be doing pretty well.

(P.S. I can do more specific reactions if there was something you had in mind! I’m not sure anyone would give a Shovel Talk because I’m not too much a fan of that trope? I feel like it disregards the agency of whoever the Talker is trying to “protect”. I’d say Kjelle might give one, but she might just end up admiring Camilla’s muscles instead. Henry might (for whoever you picture him the father of), albeit unintentionally. I think it’s canon Henry would do Literally Anything asked of him for those he loves, so I can see that fact slipping pretty easily into conversation, even accidentally.

The one most likely to intentionally pull a Shovel Talk move is Noire, probably. Against Xander, even though she likes Xander. Because Inigo never really did learn in the army, and she doesn’t know if Laslow’s learned anything yet. Probably not.)

tl;dr the Kids all Love each other So Much. They grew up together in a destroyed world and at the end of the day, they all know they always have each other, and the Trio being missing is like a hole in their hearts even when the rest of the fe13 kid cast are all on their separate travels

#my text #asks #fe13 #fe14 #long post #character death mention #this was longer and sadder than i expected but i promise i always write happy ends in the end

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