#to be clear I’m NOT trying to imply he’s secretly human or something

[distantmaniacallaugh]

god…….goddddd,,,,….., .the urge to write a fic where something threatens the circus and Caine shields a player with his bodyy…..

No. Not like that. I mean the inhuman ringmaster doing something very human.

I mean the inhuman ringmaster who always smiles, stop smiling. The inhuman ringmaster who doesn’t understand humans, who doesn’t seem to care, bodily tackling a guy to the ground, or taking a blow for them in a life-or-death situation. the inhuman ringmaster who doesnt seem to understand pain, suddenly throwing himself in the way when it’s a threat he does understand. The inhuman, ai, kooky ringmaster who has no life to lose, fearing something with the same kind of urgency a human does. Acting with the impulsivity of one.

Then just. Floating up off them and pretending he never slammed them to the ground at all; The implication he could’ve used his abilities to shield them, but that isn’t his first instinct. That what he does, all he does, is second to his hands and senses, just like you.

that somewhere under that, he’s like you.

godddd dfuckk I could go on about this for hours. Something about composure breaking. Something about desperation and a lack of dignity being inherently humanizing. I HAVE to hurt this man in some way I CANNOT go on like this, it’s not canon at all but GODDDD what a concept. I’m in love

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— JUMP ON INTO THE FIRE

SUMMARY : ben liked her more than he thought he did, more than he’d ever admit to her or himself.

PAIRING : soldier boy x supe!reader (f.)

CHARACTERS : hughie campbell, billy butcher

WARNINGS/TAGS : nsfw (18+), smut, implied misogyny, breeding kink, angst, feelings?, drug/alcohol use

WORD COUNT : 4.4k

A/N : title from a song by radio company. I keep procrastinating on posting, but a bunch of inspirational posts keep popping up telling me to JUST POST. so, I’m being brave and posting, heheh x

Ben had been restless all day.

He stared at Y/N, but she focused on whatever Butcher was saying. She usually repeated what Butcher had said when Ben asked her and no one really cared that he doesn’t listen to the stuff in between. As long as he had orders he wanted to follow through with, they seemed fine with him being the way he was.

He took advantage of it.

He took advantage of a lot of things. For example, he took advantage of the fact that Y/N was attracted to him and that she was a quiet fuck. Still, the afterglow of her orgasm remained for a few hours, nearly giving away what they’d secretly been up to. Her glassy eyes and flushed cheeks, her swollen lips and the way she was relaxed when she’d been uptight and wound up all day from trying to come up with ways to bring down Homelander.

She was also a supe, which he thought was great for the intensity of the sex they had. She could handle him and could take more of what he wanted than a human would have been able to. He just didn’t like it when she used her powers to control him and stop him from initiating anything with the boys around.

He got the hint. He rolled his eyes at her when he stood behind her, pressing himself against her ass, humming as if he were listening to a word Hughie said. Hughie was complaining to Butcher about something, and usually, everyone jumped in to say their piece and that’s when he’d make his intentions clear to her. He’d feel a tightening sensation around his chest and he’d huff out in annoyance, knowing it was her that was telling him to stop.

He grabbed a pack of cigarettes and started to smoke one. He knew she hated when he did that and she narrowed her eyes at him when he puffed a little white cloud against the side of her face. Her eyes began shining a golden colour and an invisible shield stopped the second puff of smoke from blowing against her face, and he smirked at her, walking away to smoke by the window.

He hoped the boys would leave soon and that when they did, they’d make Y/N stay with him so he could finally bury himself inside her. He didn’t like keeping it a secret that they were fucking, but she always recoiled from his touch, so much so that he heard Hughie asking her if she was uncomfortable with him.

She brushed it off as Ben being himself and wanting to fuck all living creatures with tits. She even had the audacity to say that Ben preferred saggy grannies over someone as young and tight as herself. Hughie blushed at her obscene words, so flustered by her smirk that his mouth just opened and closed hilariously.

Ben spanked her for that when they finally fucked, her cute little ass was red and hurting from the sting of his hands. Unfortunately, she’d healed from that quickly, but it was enjoyable in the moment, for both of them. Even if she didn’t say it, even if she whined about it, he knew she liked it.

On his second advance, he’d passed by in front of her. He could have just walked behind her, but he moved in front of her, squeezing her ass while everyone argued for the second time about their approach. It was really unnecessary on his part, but the glare she shot at him made him laugh, deep and genuine that he was almost scared for feeling happiness and maybe a little something else that he wouldn’t admit to himself.

So, he went to his room with the intention of jerking off, but he found himself unable to go past the edge of his orgasm. Instead, he decided to suit up. He figured they’d leave again at some point because they had been discussing who should or shouldn’t go. And after about an hour and a half, they all left without telling him anything.

It irritated him, but once he stopped hearing them, he abandoned the computer where he was watching porn—hoping to get himself in the mood for a quick wank, but he just couldn’t and just stared blankly at it—feeling horny, but unable to cum. He grabbed another cigarette, smoked it on his way out of his room, looking for a sign that someone was still here. But, truthfully, he was just hoping to find Y/N still here.

He could smell food, his stomach growled upon catching a whiff of it and he walked towards the kitchen, and found just who he was looking for. He smirked, “finally, a woman in the kitchen without having to be told.” He knew it would get a rise out of her to say that, and he enjoyed her attitude when he made comments like that.

He put his cigarette in the ashtray, making sure it went out all the way so she wouldn’t tell him off before he sat down at the table. His legs were wide open and his arm was on the wooden surface, his eyes tracing the curves of her body in the tight sweater and jeans.

“Fuck off, I’m not here for your pleasure, I’m hungry,” she told him, looking over her shoulder to glare at him with irritation. He laughed loudly, wiping his mouth with his thumb to which she rolled her eyes. She turned the stove off and started to serve herself some of the food she made: waffles, bacon, and scrambled eggs.

“Breakfast for dinner?” He asked, raising a brow.

“Cravings,” she shrugged, putting too much strawberry jam on her waffles and an equal amount of whipped cream. He perked up a little at the word, his cock stirring in his suit at the idea of having gotten her pregnant. She started to put raspberries and strawberries on them, then laughed softly to herself when she finished.

“Cravings?” He asked, clearing his throat.

She moaned softly when she took a bite and he palmed his stiff cock, nearly growling at the sounds she was making. He was only getting harder with the hope that he somehow got her pregnant in at least one of the occasions in which they fucked.

“So fucking good,” she moaned, just like she’d say when he fucked her. “Want some?” She asked, finally turning around and licking away some whipped cream from her lip, sucking on her fingers. He stopped touching himself immediately and acted casually when he pulled his gloves off his hands.

“Yours are too sweet,” he grumbled, his eyes dropped down to her breast. Her nipples poked the soft, grey cotton, the zipper as low as Starlight’s suit so he could see her cleavage.

“I’ll serve you some, but you’re putting whatever you want on them. I’m not your mother,” she said seriously, grabbing a plate for him from the cabinets. He bit his lip, the sweater rising up to reveal the smooth skin on her back. She returned to the stove, serving him the last two waffles and the last of the bacon and eggs.

She put his plate in front of him and brought him all the toppings, ignoring him the rest of the time, to eat her waffles at the counter.

“You’re not gonna sit?” He asked casually, but his voice had a hint of disapproval in it. She easily caught the tone and turned to look at him, rolling her eyes. She grabbed her plate and sat down on the chair closest to him.

“Happy?” She asked, digging into her food when he huffed in response rather than answering with his words. He stared at her with raised brows, watched how slowly she ate and how she enjoyed every overly-sweet bite of her meal. “What?” She asked, pouting at him unintentionally.

He smiled and shook his head, “you’re eating like a pregnant woman,” he commented offhandedly, adding the toppings he wanted. She kicked his leg, despite not being offended by it. She told herself she was just annoyed by everything he said, but deep down she knew she cared about him. He glared at her. “I didn’t mean it in an offensive way,” he defended himself.

“I know,” she shrugged indifferently, “I just think you’re annoying.”

He continued to glare at her, watched her eat her bacon and eggs while completely ignoring him and the glare he was shooting at her. Had he been Homelander, she’d be cut in half; bloody and dead. He grabbed the leg of her chair to pull her closer and wrapped his arms around her waist to move her onto his thigh.

“I think you need to be fucked,” he said gruffly. His free hand began zipping her sweater down to reveal her naked chest to him. She grunted, annoyed by his blunt words, turning around in his lap when wiggling free wasn’t an option. She brought her plate closer and started to eat, finishing up with her waffle when he started to unbutton her jeans.

“This isn’t an invitation,” she said, smacking his hand away. “I made food, eat it,” she ordered, getting off his lap, and this time he let her go. He blinked at her, his eyes glued to her every movement, narrowing when she started to wash her plate, which she then placed in the dishwasher.

“Don’t order me around, Y/N,” he said, his voice deep and beautiful. It still had an effect on her that both aroused her and made her want to punch him. He crossed his arms over his chest and she rolled her eyes for the thousandth time today, and all the times it was because of him. “And stop rolling your eyes at me.”

She turned to face him again, unzipped her jeans and pulled them down, stepping out of them and leaving them in the middle of the kitchen with her sweater right on top of them. She stood in front of him, naked, except for the light blue underwear she was wearing and her grey socks.

“Please, eat my food, Ben,” she said sweetly, but he knew she was pretending, mocking him, teasing him. “And after, I’ll let you fuck me,” she used the same tone, stepping between his legs. Her hands held his face, silky and warm like the waffles she made, they moved until she buried her fingers in his soft hair.

“And if I want to fuck you first?” He asked, hooking his fingers on her underwear and tugging them down her legs. She let him do it, leaned down to kiss him hungrily, the taste of sugar on her tongue made him moan, but before he could get the upper hand and deepen the kiss, she pulled away.

“The food will get cold,” she stated with an infuriating amount of calmness. He hesitantly pulled away from her and started to eat his food. She grinned at him triumphantly and picked up her clothes from the floor, his eyes on her ass the whole time.

“Where are you going?”

“Just putting this in my room, I’ll wait for you there,” she told him, a little confused.

“No, you’ll come back down and I’ll fuck you on the table,” he told her casually. She stared at the table and he could tell she was imagining all the possibilities. After taking his request—or his order, really—into consideration, she smiled at him and nodded, making her way out of the kitchen completely naked. “Shit;” he murmured, shaking his head.

She really was something.

By the time she returned, he’d nearly finished. He may have eaten a little too fast, but she didn’t make a comment about it, just leaned against the doorframe as if she wasn’t a walking temptation. When he finished, he pushed the plate aside and she inspected it, as if he would leave any food when he had been starving before he came into the kitchen.

She smirked at him, a sparkle of mischief in her eyes made him suspicious about her intentions when she took his plate. She walked to the sink to wash it too, slowly. He rolled his eyes, started to remove most of his armour, the vest, utility belt, until he was only in the zipped-up shirt, boots, and his pants.

She dried her hands with a towel and smirked at him, “why’d you put all that on, anyway?” She asked, looking to the side where the curtain was drawn, the orange sunlight from the sunset leaking through. She covered her chest and made her way over to close it.

“Leave it,” he told her. His gruff voice made her lick her lips. She smiled to herself before turning around to face him. He stood behind her, glancing over her shoulder at the neighbourhood and turned her back around to face it. He slapped her ass hard, revelling in her little gasp, and massaging the flesh gently. “You’re so fucking hot,” he praised, watching the neighbors go about their day.

Ben hoped someone would look at her when one of his hands cupped her warm breast, pinching her already tightened nipple. He was rough with her, squeezing her chest roughly, his other hand had travelled down her tummy, where he wanted to fill her up and make her pregnant. His hand kept going lower, her back arched against his chest, her head rested on his shoulder, panting already with her eyes closed.

“Little whore,” he murmured, the sound vibrating through his chest and against her back. She puffed out an irritated breath, but when his fingers found her entrance, the lubrication of her pussy coating his fingers, she moaned with him. His fingers slid freely through her folds and he found her clit just as he watched the guy he had a quick chat with the other day—Clark, who was married—walk by the window about to close the curtains to his home.

Instead, Clark watched. At first, surprised at what he was seeing but when he saw Ben, fear made him close the curtains quickly. Ben chuckled, satisfied with the reaction, nearly missing Y/N’s sweet moans and the way she squirmed in his arms. He removed his hand from between her legs, licked his fingers clean and started to walk her to the table, but first, he wanted some payback.

He sat down with her in his lap, watched her shift a little to look at him over her shoulder with a puzzled expression on her face. She still looked forward, waiting patiently for what he was going to do to her. He hummed softly at her submission, kissed her shoulder tenderly, appreciative of the way she shivered.

He smoothed his hands up and down her sides, spread her legs with his own, but completely neglected her pussy to resume playing with her breasts. She could feel his warm breath by her ear, tickling her skin, with his fingers rolling her nipples between his fingertips, pinching them almost harshly, but mostly it felt good. So good, she started to squirm in his lap.

“I know what you’re doing, Ben,” she whispered, moving her hands from her thighs to rest above his hands.

“Getting you warmed up?” He asked, playing innocent. She took one of his hands and moved it down between her legs where it was before.

“Teasing me, you asshole,” she chuckled, tipping her head back on his shoulder to kiss his cheek. He laughed, humouring her by bringing his fingers down to her soppy cunt, gathering her arousal and unhurriedly brushing his fingers up and down her clit. She groaned in annoyance, her calves wrapping around his own. She moved a little, her torso twisting carefully to look him in the eyes. “I hate you,” she huffed, squirming in his lap and he tightened his grip around her so she wouldn’t fall out of his lap.

“Doesn’t feel like it,” he muttered, smirking at her. She chose to ignore him and snickered to herself, letting her eyes fall shut to enjoy the slow pace of his fingers keeping her on the edge. He purposely began to avoid her clit, feeling the new wave of wetness from her entrance, circling, teasing.

He cupped her pussy, slid two fingers into her soaked cunt and started to push them in and out of her. Languidly, he curled his fingers inside her, let his palm massage her clit so slowly the only thing that kept her on the edge was the fact that it was him touching her. Had it been anyone else, she would’ve been drier than sandpaper and she’d be sitting there in complete and utter boredom.

“Ben,” she panted, reaching out to grip the table in front of her. She slowly began fucking herself against his fingers, moaned his name softly, wondering in the back of her mind if Ben would even let her cum like this. It felt good, his fingers brushed against her g-spot in this position, and he started to grind his palm against her clit the faster she went.

He let her cum this time, her walls pulsed around his fingers, and her hips slowly came to a stop. She didn’t bother catching her breath when she moved off his lap and turned around to face him. She bit her lip, watched him sit back in the chair, a curious look on his face, waiting for her to do something if she had anything in mind.

She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, lifted his cum-soaked fingers up to his lips and he happily took them into his mouth. While he licked his fingers clean, she zipped his suit down, her lips immediately pressed against his exposed skin, marking his warm body, as her hands worshipped him. He gazed down at her, casually brushing her hair out of her face, his teeth digging into his plump lip.

He lifted his hips off the chair when she tugged his pants and boxers down his hips. Her eyes were on his for a few seconds, full of lust and excitement. He expected her mouth on his dick, but instead she stood up to sit in his lap and she leaned forward to kiss him breathless.

Her fingers slipped through his soft hair and she shimmied her hips forward impatiently, grinding her soaked pussy over his cock. He groaned against her mouth, kissed her back with equal force and passion. One of his hands tangled in her hair and the other grabbed her waist to pull her closer, stopping her from moving her hips against his just to lift her up.

Without breaking the kiss, he stood up from the chair, stopping when his thighs hit the wooden table. He sat her down on it, pulled away from her lips, breathless and hungry for her. He wrapped his hand around his cock and slid the soft weeping head through her folds teasingly. “You’re mine,” he murmured, just taking her in. Her eyebrows went up slightly at his words, but she didn’t mind the sentiment.

“Yours…” she mumbled in agreement, finding that she liked the way that sounded. Her fingers tightened in his long hair, just to hear him grunt. Her head tipped back and her lips parted when he focused his teasing on her clit. He latched his lips to her exposed throat, teeth grazing her skin, mouth sucking gently, his tongue soothing the marks he left behind.

“Gonna finish inside you again,” he murmured against her neck.

She chuckled, “why?” She spread her legs anyway, the throbbing of her clit becoming intense with each teasing stroke of his cock. He didn’t answer, he just lifted his face from her neck and smirked at her as he guided his cockhead to her entrance.

“Don’t you like it?” He asked with a grin, pushing in and almost pulling out of her all the way slowly. He stared into her eyes, biting his lip seductively.

“Your cum inside me?” She smirked, squirming a little before wrapping her legs around his slim waist. “Why do you like it?” He pulled his hips back and pushed back into her, he went slow, considered her words and debated on whether to tell her or not. But when she pulled his hair with one hand and grasped his chin with the other, roughly bringing him in for a kiss, he stopped thinking so much about what to answer.

“To have a fucking baby with you,” he grunted against her lips.

She pulled away from the kiss, completely breathless, and blinked up at him in surprise. He didn’t give her much time to let it sink in. He gently pushed her back on the table, and her hands released his face. He watched her lips part, ready to respond, but he grabbed her hips to stop her and thrusted into her harshly.

She dug her fingernails into his arm, gasping at the pace and the force of his thrusts that shook the table beneath her. She laughed breathlessly anyway, her walls clamped down on his cock as punishment, a long moan slipping past his lips at the feeling. Her legs remained wrapped around his hips and he smirked down at her still, seeing a defiant sparkle in her eyes that he couldn’t kill, no matter how many times he reprimanded her.

“Why me?” She raised a brow, licking her dry lips.

“I like you,” he shrugged, not wasting a single second to think.

She blushed, felt a little flattered for once as he fucked her. He treated it like it was nothing, but her silence showed him that it revealed a little too much, so he brought his thumb to her clit to take her attention away from his words.

He rolled his hips against hers, kept his thrusts sharp and deep, expertly brushing against her g-spot until she was arching her back off the table. Her legs squeezed his waist, a strangled moan tore from her throat, and her walls clamped down on him. He continued to rub her clit, drawing quick circles at first, her fingers tightening on his forearms as her walls pulsed.

The fire in his own stomach boiled over until he spilled inside her, cursing softly under his breath and muttering her name at the way her orgasm triggered his. Warmth spread through her walls, and he slowed both the thrust of his hips and the circles on her clit until her muscles relaxed on the table. He stood above her, let go of her hip to admire the way she shined so prettily after her orgasm.

“You think I’m annoying,” she murmured, trying to catch her breath. He chuckled, his eyes wrinkling at the corners in such a lovely way, he almost didn’t seem so intimidating and big anymore.

“Just be mine, angel,” he smiled down at her, his eyes glittering earnestly. It pulled at her heart, her stomach clenched, and he seemed so human.

“If that’s what you’re into…” she trailed off, trying to brush his words off, but inwardly, she was swooning. She pushed him away instead of being open and giving him the same vulnerability, hurt crossed over his face, but she was too busy avoiding his eyes to notice.

When he slipped out of her, he watched his cum start to ooze out of her, but this time, he was too caught up in his hurt to be aroused at the thought of getting her pregnant. She was behind her for the hand towel to clean herself up and he didn’t say anything, he just quietly lifted his pants and helped her down the table once she’d finished cleaning herself.

He took her face in his hands, in an attempt to make things less awkward, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips that was meant to be heated, but it ended up being a gentle one. A gentle kiss that she reciprocated for a heartbeat or two before she pulled away after regaining her wits to brush past him casually with the towel in one hand to wash it herself.

He blinked at the back of her head, a bunch of emotions bubbling up his chest, giving him whiplash and overwhelming him. He let his hands fall from where they were still holding the ghost of her face, a scowl replacing the peaceful expression that had been on his face.

“Forgot to tell ya,” she turned around to face him and he forced a smile. “They’re going after the TNT Twins in a few days, so.. be ready for that,” she informed him casually. “Herogasm,” she feigned enthusiasm, and turned away from him to go to her room upstairs.

“Fuck,” he groaned angrily, sliding a hand down his face.

He looked around the kitchen with irritation, found the drugs he kept hidden in the cabinet wall and took the best bottle of bourbon hidden in another cabinet. He opened the pill bottle, dumped a few on the table where he’d fucked her, and took his knife from the floor, using the eagle head to crush the pills to dust.

He kicked the chair forward with a foot to sit in it. Once he was lined up in front of the white power on the table, he leaned down and sniffed a long line of the crushed pills. He sighed in relief, cleaned his nose of traces of white powder before he opened the bourbon. He stared at it, swirled the golden liquid in the bottle as he thought about what he’d said to her. I like you? He scoffed with a shake of his head, be mine?

He felt more anger towards himself than he felt for her. Heat crawled up his face, shame and embarrassment made his hot cheek twitch and he downed about half the bottle for saying what he said. He replayed the look on her face, hated himself for feeling hurt by her indifference, but could he blame her?

➥ all i wanna do

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[fyodcrs]

Hello!! Kris here once again!! I hope you're well! 💖✨ This time I want to ask you about the relationship between Dazai and Fyodor! How do you think Dazai and Fyodor met? From what we can gather from the manga, Dazai is already aware about his intentions to retrieve "The Book" and it's clear that both of them are set up to serve as a foil to each other. The first interaction they have in the manga is interesting because it is Dazai who points out how similar their thought process is. In addition to this, it seems like Fyodor plays a big role in Dazai's personal arc to realize the "good side of humans" and life in general (referring to the times Dazai speaks with hope while countering Fyodor's remarks, a contrast to the times Dazai has a negative overview of life.) I would love to hear your take on this! :D

@kunikiiida-kuuun Kris! *tackle hugs again* Hi!! Oh my gosh oh my gosh, thank you so much for this!! I’m sorry it took me so long!!! This turned into quite the long-winded response, so hopefully it stays halfway coherent asdfghjghj.

Ahhhh, Dazai and Fyodor. The northern demon and the demon prodigy. The rat king and the walking waste of bandages.

How and when Dazai and Fyodor first met is a really interesting question. It’s a pretty popular theory that they met in the interval of time between when Dazai left the Mafia and when he joined the Agency, and I can see that being the case. It would make a certain narrative sense for that to be when they crossed paths for the first time; it would’ve been a time when Dazai was in a kind of liminal state, starting to piece together a new identity for himself from the dying words of his best friend. To have met “that monster” during that period would have been quite the shock to the system, I imagine. 

I also think it’s possible they met while Dazai was still in the Mafia. Fyodor has probably been in Yokohama a while. We don’t know how long he’s been working with Fukuchi, but it has to have been at least three years, because Sigma was “created” three years ago - and it’s implied that Fyodor is the one who concocted the entire Decay of Angels plan, and Fukuchi defeated and captured Bram, an integral part of that plan, eight years ago. Fukuchi is so bad at this whole villain thing, he constantly bungles shit up when things go off script and it’s up to him to make decisions (look at Tachihara, the fact he would have gotten himself killed like twice now if he didn’t have his deus ex machina sword, the mistake with Jouno, and the whole thing with Aya), so I find it kind of hard to believe he thought to secretly stash poor Bram away just in case, lmao. I’d guess that Fyodor and Fukuchi likely met while Fukuchi was abroad, maybe while he was in Eastern Europe dealing with the vampires, but according to Dead Apple, Fyodor was in Yokohama when Dazai was sixteen, six years before the main timeline. So it’s entirely possible Fyodor and Dazai crossed paths while Dazai was with the Mafia, or at least that Dazai caught wind of his presence before he left.

I hope we get the full backstory at some point, ‘cause I’m really curious not just when they met but what happened between them. I feel like it must have been something completely innocuous, like they wandered into the same café one day or something, but it set both their demon senses tingling, haha. It doesn’t seem like, based on their interactions, that anything significant would have happened between them, but clearly they both were able to read each other perfectly in that one encounter, to the point where they both were able to predict each other’s moves down to the second when they met again in the alleyway (and in DA), and that Dazai figured out that Fyodor was after The Book and Fyodor figured out that Dazai would try to stop him.

Fyodor and Dazai are so interesting together. They are perfectly equal; Fyodor is the only one who can stand on equal ground with Dazai, and vice versa. They’re so evenly matched that they’re pretty much at a constant stalemate. They’re absolutely ridiculous, honestly. They can predict what moves the other one will make and they can predict that the other one will predict that they’re predicting each other, so it’s just like, around and around we go, lmao. And I mean, they play mental chess together. THEY HAVE THEIR OWN SECRET LANGUAGE THAT THEY CAME UP WITH LITERALLY ON THE FLY. What kind of soulmate trope bullshit - 

These monsters...! (affectionate)

Fyodor is definitely meant to be a foil to Dazai, but it’s a very interesting dynamic, because they aren’t perfect opposites. Fyodor is not a “dark” version of Dazai - Mafia Dazai was the “dark” version of Dazai, and, well, the “darkest” version of Dazai is Mori, not Fyodor. And Dazai can hardly be called a “light” version of Fyodor. Dazai, after all, is not by nature a good person. He’s essentially amoral; as Odasaku said, good and evil mean nothing to Dazai. But he chose to become a good person because of Odasaku, and because, as I’ll talk more about in a bit, what Dazai has always wanted is a reason to live. 

Whereas Dazai is amoral, however, Fyodor is driven entirely by a strong sense of morality and justice. Except Fyodor’s morality and sense of justice has been twisted and warped into something black and cold that only brings darkness and death wherever he goes. Fyodor is not evil, but something worse than evil. He is Crime; he is Punishment:

Both Dazai and Fyodor transcend traditional notions of “good” and “evil,” so their dynamic, too, is hardly the traditional protagonist-antagonist dynamic. Usually, it’s the villain who tells the hero “we’re not so different, you and I,” but you’re right, it’s Dazai who points out that they’re one and the same: 

There’s never been anyone able to play Fyodor’s game, to match him move by move. Until now, of course.

What Dazai and Fyodor both lack is empathy. Neither of them are able to really connect with anyone else because of their vastly superior intelligence and sense of detachment from the world. They are both cruel and manipulative, and they both use people like puppets or chess pieces. They are very much alike in a lot of ways. They are not perfect opposites; rather, they’re like reflections of each other seen “through a glass darkly,” to use a Biblical metaphor. They’re two of a kind, but they’ve both gone down separate paths. The way they think is exactly alike - except for one fundamental difference. 

But, see, maybe it’s just me, but I don’t really think that Dazai counters Fyodor with hope per se, and nothing he says in response to Fyodor suggests that he has a more positive view of humanity. But I think you’re right about that last part - he is starting to see value in life. And that, I think, is the fundamental difference.

Fyodor believes that all human beings are inherently bad, helpless to resist their violent impulses even when they know they are being manipulated:

He specifically connects humanity’s sinfulness with the existence of abilities:

I talked about this when I explained my theory on the nature of Fyodor’s ability: I believe that Fyodor thinks this way because this is what he believes about himself and his own ability. He thinks his own ability is sinful, and that he himself can only be purified if it and his very existence is erased. The fact that he projects this belief onto the world at large is, I think, partly because of an overinflated ego, but also probably because of his experiences. We still know nothing about Fyodor’s past, but I wouldn’t be surprised if a large part of the reason he’s come to see abilities as the core of humanity’s evil is because of the war. Just think about how even Yosano’s ability was used for horribly inhumane purposes during the war. 

This is what Dazai has to say in response:

Dazai does not respond to Fyodor by saying that yes, human beings can be cruel, but they can be good, too. They can choose. Sometimes a former hitman swears off killing and chooses to raise orphans, instead. Sometimes a young girl forced to kill because of her ability is saved and given a chance at a new life. Sometimes one of the most notorious Mafia bosses in history chooses to join the side that saves people. This is the kind of thing Atsushi might say in response, but Dazai doesn’t say any of that - instead, he basically says, “So what?” He agrees with Fyodor that humanity is bad, but he doesn’t really think that’s so wrong.

And this is what he says to Fyodor in prison:

Again, maybe it’s just me, but this does not come across as a positive view of human beings. If anything, it’s just as bleak as Fyodor’s. What Dazai is saying is that Fyodor is wrong not in thinking humanity is bad, but in thinking that that makes them boring. He’s disputing Fyodor’s belief that himself and Dazai are somehow above the normal, “stupid” people, and he’s saying that their ability to manipulate and control others really gets them nowhere. And if you kind of read between the lines, I think what Dazai’s saying here is that life has meaning. 

We still know so little about Fyodor, but we do know that he wants to erase all ability-users from the world. This, naturally, includes himself. We really don’t know for sure if Fyodor intends to erase abilities on their own or if he indeed wants to completely erase ability-users themselves. But I think the latter is probably true, because he does seem to believe that life itself is a crime. Look at what he says to Karma after Ace’s death:

Karma thinks that Fyodor is looking at another person like they’re “a stain on the wall.” Fyodor appears to see no value in life.

And this is what he says to Karma after he kills him:

Fyodor believes that only death can bring salvation. And this, I think, is what Fyodor is really after: salvation for his own soul.

One way in which I think Dazai and Fyodor are alike is that they are both characterized by despair, loneliness, and a desire to die. But Dazai is starting to see meaning in life, even if the world is messed up, even if so much of life is struggle. The major difference between the two of them, I think, is that Dazai has always been searching for a reason to live, while Fyodor has always been searching for a way to die. Dazai has begun to find his reason for living, because his world is a little more beautiful now, just like Odasaku said it would be. 

And I do agree that Fyodor plays a large part in this development for Dazai, because Dazai sees so much of himself in Fyodor. He sees how Fyodor reflects back at him the darkness he used to live in, the agony he’s felt for so long. It’s not a “what Dazai might have been” sort of scenario, I don’t think, because like I said before, what Dazai might have been is Mori; Fyodor and Dazai are too different philosophically for either of them to have ever “been” the other. But they’re exactly alike in every other way, two sides of the same coin, two peas in a pod, and Dazai can see that. He can completely understand Fyodor because he understands exactly what Fyodor is and why he is what he is.

I’m very interested to see how Dazai might affect Fyodor in turn. If maybe Dazai can make Fyodor question himself.  

But this is just my interpretation of their characters! Asagiri-sensei might have intended Dazai’s worldview to come across as more positive than I take it to be, I really can’t know. And I might be totally off-base in interpreting Fyodor as a tragic character, but this is just what I think of him based on what we have been given and based on the themes of the real Dostoevsky’s novel “Crime and Punishment,” which is all about despair, tragedy, and ultimate redemption through love and Christian faith.

And I do hope Fyodor gets redemption, in the end (*slides Asagiri-sensei twenty bucks* please?). It would be so, so interesting if Dazai were to play a part in convincing Fyodor he’s wrong, and that his world could be a little more beautiful, too, if he made the same choice Dazai did - not in changing Fyodor’s worldview to match his own, but in making Fyodor realize that this is not the right path to salvation. That’s what happens in my fyozai headcanons, anyway. (◡‿◡*)❤ Dazai, you gotta give Fyo the hug he needs, you’re the only one, you’re our only hope!! He can’t use his ability on you, he won’t be able to resist!! (There’s also Sigma, who could potentially play a significant role in Fyodor’s development and give him the hug he needs.🥺)

Let me know what you think! Dazai and Fyodor are such fascinating nuanced characters, I love them both so so much, and I love their dynamic! I’m really interested to see how it all plays out for the two of them! 

Big BIG hug!! You’re absolutely the best!! ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧˚ 💕💕💕💕💖💖💖💖  

[randomidiocyncrazies]

Gwitch ep 6 initial thoughts

okay i’m travelling, but i did catch ep 6 of Gwitch. As usual, messy thoughts under the cut

on the one hand: there’s a lot of plot popping off, so that’s great—i wonder what the ‘real’ Elan’s relation is to the Peil CEOs, and whether the doubles are ‘found’ (poor children taken in by Peil subsidaries and later converted) or made from scratch. The ‘real’ Elan did say something like “your face will be returned to you” to Elan (Number 4), so presumably the Elan clones did have their own appearances before?

it’s cool we get some more info on how the members of the dueling committee are selected: it looks like the head of the Big Three dorms are automatically part of the committee, which makes sense. However, I'm not sure about the allegiance of Secelia and Rouji—I don’t think they’re part of the Big Three, and I think they’re also in the same dorm? it suggests that there’s a 4th party that may be specifically involved in dueling logistics (since they have 2 members on the committee). I’m not sure if there are supposed to be more dueling committee members, or if the Big Three dorm heads + Secilia + Rouji are all of the members. It’d be kinda cool if all the dorm heads are technically part of the dueling committee, but most of them just don’t bother with those duties bc everyone knows the Big Three calls the shots. (Also... so far we’ve only seen Secilia and Rouji perform support duties—we haven’t seen Shaddiq duel yet either, but we know he had dueled others before from the convo in ep 3. Just what is Secilia and Rouji’s deal, and which dorm do they belong to???)

Speaking of dorms, it’s really funny that Guel is just chilling in a tent after he’s kicked out. Now that both he and Miorine are technically squatters when it comes to their living situations, i wonder if it’s something they grudgingly bond over later on, since it’s pretty clear that Guel is probably going to ally with Suletta and co. eventually. I’m glad he didn’t interact with our girls this episode though, since imo they need more time to set up what his goals are now that he’s kicked out and how those may intersect/interfere with Suletta and Miorine’s. And honestly if he’s going to ally with Suletta + Miorine, I need him to earn it.

As for the other stuff... I can’t quite decide whether it’s brilliant or annoying that Elan (Number 4) is basically made to be interesting, just in time to be secretly terminated(?) by Peil Tech. On the one hand, he is dehumanized not just by Peil Tech, but kinda by the narrative as well—he’s a walking plot device made to introduce narrative hooks (”I was already cursed” okay so there’s more plot re: Enhanced People, not to mention the implications of him having had his own face and birthday before becoming the ‘real’ Elan’s double, him seeing Aerial’s AI/Gund-bit take the form of a child etc) and left unable to enact his own will, but... the gruesome extent to which he is dehumanized is the entire point of this character, so him being a plot device makes sense. However, I’m not really looking forward to all the mistaken identity stuff when the new Elan gets to school and interacts with Suletta; identity mishaps can be done really well or really poorly, there’s no in-between lol

Also I just gotta say... Prospera/Elnora is very well informed; she knows about Jeturk Sr. trying to assassinate Delling, and she knows about Peil Tech manufacturing multiple Enhanced Humans to pursue Gundam research—I assumed the “witch” is referring to her old colleague, but honestly... who knows. Her ex-colleague also mentions a Mysterious Revenge-Worthy Event that happened 21 years ago—Suletta is 17, but I can’t imagine Prospera wanting to get revenge for something that happened 4 years before the annihilation of Ochs Earth. So I think the theory that Ericht is Aerial’s AI and Suletta is a clone/created by Elnora makes the most sense from the info we’re given so far, especially when it’s implied Aerial’s AI takes on the form of a child. (It’s worth noting that 4 is going to be an arc number going forward: Eri was 4 when the Ochs Earth Massacre happened; there are 4 years between whatever Mysterious Event Prospera and her ex-colleague were talking about and Suletta’s birth; the Elan that we’ve spent time with so far is Peil’s 4th Enhanced Person etc... is it just Four Is Death at play, or is there some other significance to the number?)

I just hope there’s more corporate drama soon because the Pharact is so obviously a gundam, with Elan (Number 4)’s data storm level exceeding acceptable limits during the duel—imo it’s a premise-breaking mistake if they don’t show how the Benerit Group reacted (esp Delling & Grasseley Defense, who are shown to the most anti-Gundam.) Since next episode is called "Shall We Gundam" I think it'll follow up on the corporate side of things

[wizkiddx]

Hiii I really love your work! Could you write about Tom secretly or not secretly watching yoi have a Zoom Uni class? And maybe he teases you in a way, trying to make you laugh or he sends you text messages or something? And later when you're done and he has a meeting,you tease him right back?

Hope you're having a lovely day 💞

a/n hey anon!! this was a really cute idea but I have another req for the vice versa bit, so only did the first half in this- I hope u don't mind :)

warnings: implied smut at the end but rlly just a fluffy cringe fest

////////////////////////////////////////

Early mornings where never you’re favourite and this one wasn’t an exception to the rule. The LA sun was flooding through the curtains that had been hurriedly thrown almost-closed last night as you huffed into the duvet. You needed to get up - but you definitely didn’t want to. To be fair, you’d only arrived the day before and were still acclimatising to the jet lag - though Tom’s presence certainly made everything alot easier.

Especially as you’d been without him for so long, the pandemic meaning you hadn’t been able to make the long-weekend trips you usually would’ve. So when at the beginning of may, Tom had offered for you to come out and stay with him for half the summer (while he was busy working). There was only really one answer…. free holiday with the absolute specimen of a human who you call your boyfriend? Yes please.

It did mean though, that you had flown out before the end of the semester. Only by a week and it didn’t make much difference because you only had a few zoom lectures - but they were compulsory. So even if you were living in the US, you had to follow your UK school timetable. Hence why you had to get up at 6:30, to make your UK time 14:30 lecture.

The arms around you seemed to have other ideas, huffing and only pulling you tighter when you tried to wriggle out of his embrace. You groaned in annoyance, mainly because he was making it more and more tempting to stay huddled up against him.

“Toooooommm I gotta get up” Clearly not agreeing, he just squeezed you to his chest tighter, whilst emphatically shaking his head - all with his eyes still firmly pressed shut.

“Let go! I have a lecture!” Still not letting up , he just shook his head once again - making his bed hair especially wild as it dragged against the linen pillows.

With a sigh you turned in his death grip, now being able to see his puffy morning eyes pressed firmly shut. First you arched up and pressed a soft kiss to his chin, then jaw and then nose.

“Seriously T, I need to show up to this one.” Because yes, you might’ve already had an absence from yesterday, where you had both slept through the alarm.

“-o it-’” Croaking so much so you couldn’t even puzzle out what he said, the man cleared his throat before trying again, the sound reverberating in his chest. “ uhmm do it from bed, don’t go.”

That had you pouting at his cuteness. Ever since you’d arrived he’d been unbelievable clingy to you, barely letting you out of his sight. You showered together; he sat and stared whilst you did your skin care routine; even at restaurants he insisted on sitting next to you with his hand on your knee. When you had asked him, the only reasoning you got was a shrug and a muttered ‘I missed you’. Never, ever would you complain about Tom’s attention. But…. you really needed to get to your laptop.

“I can’t babe thats not very profess-“

“-wont even be able to tell.”

As much as you tried, you couldn’t ever really deny Tom anything. Not when he cracked his eyelids open, revealing the softest warm brown eyes, coupled with a lazy smile. So yes, you ended up quickly getting changed into one of Toms old burgundy tops, running a brush through your frizzy hair and then clambering back into bed. You balanced your laptop on a tray on top of a box, so the angle was less obvious that your backdrop was a headboard. Instantly Tom had half-asleep turned over to lay his messy head on your lap. And with a half sigh half laugh, you logged on- once in the waiting room bringing a hand down to trail your nails through Tom’s hair which made him groan with delight.

It was all going so well too, up the point where breakout rooms were announced and you had to talk - your chipper voice and laughs with your course mates rousing Tom from his sleep. Every time he almost lifted his head into the view of the webcam, you were very quick to slam it back down, forcing him back onto your lap.

Eventually he got bored of the restrictions, as well as not being very into the history module you were all puzzling over- so slid out of bed into the shower. Once he was gone you did almost sigh in relief, you had thought that Tom in his friendly-idiot manner would end up getting you caught at some point. Especially as our relationship was so secretive, none of your course mates knew you weren’t single - imagine their shock if an a lister popped up in the zoom class.

But oh, the relief did not last long at all.

The issue was Harry had gone out for the day. It was just you and Tom in his fancy rented LA house. And, as mentioned, Tom was being clingy as hell. It couldn’t of been more than 20 minutes before the fluffy haired brunette was back in the room - pouting when he saw you still on the computer.

Even though you shooed him away, Tom just cocked his head to one side, a small smirk on his face. And you knew. You knew he was going to be a little shit. He slinked over the bed, perching at the foot next to where your feet lay.The warning look you shot him, metaphorical daggers coming out your eye did absolutely nothing - you watched his hand pin your right ankle down before stroking the sole of your foot. Familiar shivers shot up your leg and it took everything in you to not kick out, launching the laptop across the room as tickled you.

Soon though he stopped, you pulled yourself into a cross legged position, readjusting the laptop and trying to concentrate back on the lecturer. Seeing your disinterest, Tom hopped up off the bed and you thought he was leaving. But no. No you were wrong. He just stood at the foot of the bed, hands on hips as he appeared to listen intently to the lecturer too.

Clearly Tom was an actor, he was pretty good at accents. You should’ve known he wouldn’t be able to resist the impersonating your academic staff - who happened to have a strong Somerset accent.

Pretending to ignore Tom as he hunched up and widened his stance - to imagine the physicality of your lecturer- you narrowed your eyes at the computer screen. Then though, a deep booming farmer-like voice came out your well spoken south london boy - god you were glad you’d stuck the mute button on as soon as he had entered.

“And then as your reading in chapter twel-“

“And then as yowr readinf in chapter twelve….” Tom echoed the lecturer loud and proud, making it completely impossible for you to attempt to concentrate. As much as you wanted to be furious at him- well, all it took was one look.

He was holding his face in some sort of duck pout and all the movements were extra pronounced and exaggerated. You couldn’t help it- instantly you burst out laughing, having to turn off the video for fear of anyone noticing.

Seeing he’d got a rise out of you, Tom was only spurred on, continuing the dramatic acting with a new found confidence. That was until you got yourself under control, face turning like a switch from joy to fury.

“Shut the hell up!”

And he did, for a few minutes, whilst pouting like a told-off toddler. In a strop, he sat down, shoulders slumped at the edge of the bed. Oh how wrong your were, when you thought you’d won - with a satisfied smile concentrating back on the laptop screen. Just in time to hear the lecturer FINALLY starting to rounding up the lecture.

“Alright so next session we’re-“ Before he’d even stammered his way to the end of the sentence, Tom’s face had switched up once again - into one of mischief as he started crawling up the bed either-side of your legs. One strong arm reached out to touch the back of your laptop lid and before you could protest he was pushing it down, till it landed with a small ‘clunk’.

“You did not just do that!” Yelling at him, you sat up so now he was kneeling across your lap.

“But I just did.” He mimed a mic drop which had you cringing hard, staring at him in disbelief. Okay the lecturer was beginning to round off, but that conclusion could’ve gone on for 5 minutes at least!

“Oh you are so in for it Holland.”

You’d meant it as a threat, as a sort of ‘I’m-going-to-make-your-life-a-living-hell” but the bright eyed boy before you had other plans. Wordlessly he nodded, then placed your laptop on the bedside ; then pushed you down on the bed. His legs either side of you, his arms like rockets to pin yours either side your head.

“Ah but you see my love…” he tutted, with a wide smile, hhis breath fanning down onto you as he took your breath away. “That is exactly what I want.” Immediately his lips were on yours, the both of you fighting for dominance as you arched your head up to get extra purchase on him.

“I hate… I hate you… so bloody much” It was hard to talk when his intoxicating lips were moving against yours, melting away all your resistance.

“Hmmm… well its… its a good thing… that I love you.”

He was impossible and no doubt you’d missed the prep work for tomorrows lecture. But having him there, body pressed against yours, after months apart.

Well, you wouldn’t mind failing the module for him.

~~~~ let me know what you think <333~~~~

tag list : @thefernandasantana @lovehollandy12 @hallecarey1 @crossyourpeter @hollandfanficlove @msmimimerton @thegirlwiththeimpala

[marvelotus]

The Angel of Hell’s Kitchen

Summary: Working for Shield was easy until Fury gives you a mission to recruit Daredevil to the team. Falling for Matt Murdock wasn’t in the mission’s guidelines, so why didn’t you listen?

Author’s Note: Not timeline compliant to Daredevil or the Avengers movies, but hey, it’s more fun this way. Maybe a part two in the future?

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: Blood, mentions of human trafficking, implied sex, guns. 

Fury had sent you undercover to Hell’s Kitchen to gain intel on its new vigilante. The Daredevil was proving to be a tough fighter and could be a valuable asset to Shield if you were able to find out his identity and convince him to join. 

You had never been to New York City. After your older sister’s murder, you became a police officer who worked your ass off in the ranks, but instead of getting the promotion of detective, you were selected to apply for Shield. There, you became a pencil pusher first and over time, became a field agent trusted enough to work alongside Captain America and the Black Widow for a short period of time. 

You learned martial arts and the fighting styles of the Black Widows, becoming a skilled member of the team. Fury assured you that anything you would face in the Kitchen would be a cake walk. 

He didn’t say anything about how working with Daredevil would be the hardest thing you could ever experience. 

Shield had crafted a vigilante persona for you while you were in the Kitchen. A white, gray, and baby blue suit with a white and gray mask to cover your eyes. The opposite of the Devil could only be an Angel. It would be the perfect attention grabber for the media. 

When you got to the city, you got a job at the New York Bulletin, working as Karen Page’s assistant. It was her job to teach you the ins and outs of reporting. Mitchel Ellison, your new boss figured you could learn the most with someone who was still passionate about her reporting. 

You quickly grew to like Karen. She was bold and confident, brave and independent. Even when she was told no or knocked down, she would get back up and do things how she wanted. 

As the weeks went on, you met her friend Foggy Nelson, a defense attorney who was goofy yet charming at the same time. He was also a fighter, and it showed in his cases in court. You quickly learned that he was much smarter than anyone seemed to give him credit for. 

Their other friend and Foggy’s partner’s name was Matt Murdock. He was blind, but the way he acted sometimes made you question whether he could secretly see behind those red glasses that perched on his nose. He had incredible reflexes and a strong sense of smell and sensitive hearing. You supposed the rumors about people who lost one sense, had the others dialed up. 

You worked at the paper part time. During the nights, you were out, scanning the city to fight crime and find Daredevil. Fury had assured you it would be a quick mission. A few months at most. All of your expenses taken care of by Shield, of course. 

It was one of your first few nights fighting crime and you had yet to come across the man in the mask. You were listening to the police scanners when you heard of a nearby robbery at a convince store by your apartment. There were four hostages held inside by three masked men. You donned your suit and mask and rushed a few blocks down. 

You made your way over to the store and entered through the back door and snuck in quietly. You walked through the doorway and cleared your throat, smirking when all three men turned to you and aimed their guns, but hadn’t made a move to shoot. 

“Who the hell are you?” One of the men asked. 

“Does it matter?” You asked. “Listen, I’m really just trying to find Daredevil and if that means drawing his attention here by kicking your ass and saving these people, then that’s what’s gonna happen.” 

“Listen, princess, I don’t know what you think you’re doing. This all could have been avoided if they had just given us the money.” 

“Something tells me that you don’t want to kill these people. If you did, they’d already be dead. With that being said, drop the guns and go out with your hands up. I don’t want to have to hurt you.” 

The men collectively chuckled. “You? Hurt us? Oh sweetheart, I don’t think you know what that means. Why don’t you run along and if Daredevil wants to stop us, he can come out of hiding himself.” 

“Suit yourself.” 

You threw a small blade at one of the men, slicing his hand open, causing him to drop his gun. You kicked it out of the way and ran for the others. The men’s fighting styles were uncoordinated yet predictable. It was a simple street fighting method of punching where ever they could land one on you, which wasn’t often. You were quick and agile, disarming and knocking them all unconscious in only a few minutes.

As the last man fell to the ground at your feet, you wiped the blood off your lip, breathing heavily. You went over to the hostages and cut through their ropes. They cried their thanks as they removed their duct tape gags and you ushered them out of the store and ducked out the back entrance before the police could come in for you. 

You returned to your apartment and took a hot shower to ease the pain of the bruises that would surely come from the few punches that actually did make contact. When you exited, you were all over the news. 

‘The Angel of Hell’s Kitchen has been seen around the past few nights, saving civilians and intercepting robberies. It leaves the public questioning who she is, what her connection to Daredevil could be, and what this means for the Kitchen next.’ 

You hoped that whoever and wherever the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen was, he heard the news segment and it would draw him to you. 

The next day at work, the Bulletin was going crazy. Karen told you that she was in charge of the article about the Angel and you had to go and interview the hostages and police officers from the scene. 

Few of the officers were happy to have another vigilante around. Others were upset that another ordinary person was doing the police’s job. It only made you want to go out more. Fury needed you to get Daredevil on the team. He needed to know who he was behind the mask. 

“What do you think of the Angel?” You asked Karen as you both got in her car to head back to the office. 

“It’s exciting. Daredevil is a hero! He’s actually looking out for the city. I wonder if he plans on working with her.” 

“The Devil and the Angel. Yeah, quite the team. If only we could talk to him.” 

You listened to the scanners again that night, trying to find another dispute for you to settle. The night was relatively quiet except for a domestic violence claim, but it had been settled and the call was canceled by the time you were even able to step out the door. 

Your gut told you that something was wrong, so you went out anyway. You went to the given address to see a run down apartment complex in a part of the city that was considered ‘on the other side of the tracks.’ The cop cars were already gone. You climbed up the fire escape to the window of the apartment who called. The inside was dead silent. 

The chill in the air bit at your nose, but you hardly felt it over the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You couldn’t let a woman be beat by her husband. If he even tried, you would be there to save her. 

The fire escape suddenly rattled as someone joined you. You bolted around with your gun drawn, only to see the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen four feet away from you. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. You slowly lowered the gun. “Who are you and what are you doing in my city?” 

“I guess they call me the Angel now,” you told him. “But I’m not here to stop petty crime. I’m here to recruit you for a team much bigger than you can even imagine, but this place is hardly the place to talk.” 

“You’re going to tell me everything that I want to know. Who sent you?” 

You sighed. “What did I just say? Now is not the time nor the place.” 

Just then you heard a thud, a scream, and glass shattering. Daredevil was quicker than you, despite you being closer to the window. He broke the glass and jumped through. The two of you ran into the living room and the man was standing over the woman with a knife. 

Daredevil came up behind the man and wrestled the blade from him. He quickly choked the man until he was passed out and put him on the ground. You ran to the woman who was nursing a bleeding arm, sitting on the ground. 

Daredevil called the police and ambulance again. You assured the woman that she would be fine and that help was on the way, then the two of you left the apartment. Daredevil effortlessly climbed up the fire escape to the roof, and you followed not too far behind. 

“Who sent you?” He asked you again. 

“Directory Fury of Shield. He wants to recruit you.” 

“I’ve done the whole team thing.” 

You cocked your head to the side. “The Defenders?” 

He clenched his jaw. “How’d you know that?”  

“We know lots of things. The only thing we don’t is who’s behind the mask.”

“Why does Shield want to recruit me? I haven’t done anything,” he questioned, changing the subject.

“On the contrary. You’re an excellent fighter. You’ve taken enemies down faster than I’ve seen before and take quite the amount of hits and you still get back up and keep going. You’ve piqued Fury’s interest, and if you get the attention of the rest of the Avengers, you may be able to join the team.” 

He scoffed. “Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll pass. Shield has a habit of publicizing their employees and partners. I have people that I need to protect.” 

“With all due respect, if Shield wants the world to know about something, it will. There are plenty of secrets buried within the walls of the organization.” 

“Hell’s Kitchen is where I belong. As I said before, I’ll pass.” He turned on his heel to jump down the side of the building. 

“Let me be your partner,” you blurted out, causing him to stop in his tracks. “If you won’t join Shield, let me join you. Teach me how you fight and protect the city.” 

Daredevil looked at you skeptically. “Prove to me that you want it.” 

“How do you expect me to do that?” 

He cocked his head to the side and smirked. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” With that, he turned on his heel and ran off the roof and down the street. 

Fury wasn’t too happy when you had told him what was said, but you could understand where the masked man was coming from. A stranger coming into your city, asking to be partners with you would make you suspicious too. You couldn’t blame him, but you had to get intel on him, and you were prepared to do whatever it took. 

The next day, Foggy and Karen begged you and Matt to go to Josie’s to have a drink. At first, Matt refused, saying he had other plans, but the two friends were devious and guilt tripped him into saying yes. When Matt finally caved and agreed, it was only on the condition he would stay for an hour. 

Matt had only gone out a few times when you made plans. He was always busy, claiming to do work at home. Foggy had complained one too many times how Matt was a little flaky when it came to work and hanging out, but had admitted he had gotten better in recent months. 

Foggy told you that Matt was once under the investigation of the FBI. The infamous mob boss Wilson Fisk had manipulated the FBI into thinking Matt was a criminal. Admittedly, he had broken into a prison, but it was the video footage that stuck out to you. 

Foggy said it had been destroyed, but Shield had the resources to recover lost items. You contacted some of the kids from IT and you had the footage in no time. You couldn’t believe what you saw. 

Matt was fighting the prisoners and other guards. He was bloody and broken, but even in the dim red light, you could see his face. How could a blind man fight so well? Was he even blind? You figured the footage was altered in some way, but when you asked the IT kids about it, they said it was all authentic. You needed to know whether Matt was blind or not. 

That evening when you went out for drinks, you arrived at the bar first, taking a seat and watching the video again, looking for any static in the footage that could indicate alterations of any kind The chair beside you pulled out and you put your phone down to see Matt settling in the seat with two beers in hand. He slid one to you with perfect accuracy of where your hand was resting on the table. He had a small cut above his eye and a bruise on his cheekbone. You nudged his arm. 

“You okay?” 

He offered you a smile. “Yeah, why?” Realization hit him and he laughed. “Oh, this?” He asked, pointing to his face. “I fell down the stairs.” 

“Oh. Do you need anything?” 

He shook his head. “I’m a big boy. I can handle a few bruises.” 

“Do you fall a lot?” 

He chuckled and took a swig of his beer. “Yeah, actually. You’d think by now I’d learn where the things in my apartment are. Being a blind man is tough sometimes.” 

You nodded your head. You positioned your bottle to the edge of the table so you could not so accidentally slide it off with your arm. Karen and Foggy walking into the bar posed the perfect opportunity. As they sat down, you moved your arm to punch Foggy’s in greeting. You heard the glass move off the table, and it hit the ground, shattering into a million pieces. Matt had made no attempt to grab it or move out of the way. 

“Oh shit, hey Josie, can you grab us a broom?” Karen asked. You bent down to pick up the larger chunks. 

With IT assuring you that the prison footage was real, combined with the fact that Matt seemed to be able to hear things a normal person wouldn’t, such as a whisper across the room, you knew you weren’t stupid. He was just playing the part of convincing blind man a little too well.

“Don’t, you’ll cut yourself!” Karen warned, but you carefully grabbed the pieces and discarded them into the dustpan that Josie brought over. 

“I’m a professional, Karen. Don’t you worry.” 

Foggy snorted. “Hopefully not a professional idiot like this one.” He pointed at Matt. 

“Are you talking about me? I feel like you’re talking about me,” he responded. “I’m being good, sitting here drinking. I was even ten minutes early to keep Y/N company.” 

“Oh god, Saint Matthew is officially here guys. I need another drink,” Foggy groaned, drinking the liquor in his glass. Karen giggled and poured him another. 

“So, Matt,” you began. “I have a question.” 

“No, I haven’t always been blind,” he continued. “Usually that’s what everyone wants to know.” 

“No, no, I wanted to ask you why you wanted to be a lawyer. We all know Foggy just wanted to be rich.” 

“I wanted to put criminals away. To do my part to get the bad guys out of innocent people’s lives.” 

“Yeah, he lost his sight when he was nine,” Foggy interjected. 

“Thanks, Fog.” 

The man nodded and laughed, which made you laugh too. You went to grab your beer, but you miss judged the distance and it slipped from your hand. Matt suddenly reached up and caught it before it was able to spill on the table. You stared at him in shock. 

“How did you-“ 

“Quick reflexes I guess.” By his nervous smile, you could tell he was lying. 

“Right.” You glanced away and back to your hands in your lap. 

You were now one hundred percent sure Matt had to be lying. You were going to find out why. 

When you got home, you asked your partners at Shield to look into Matt’s medical history. On one hand, it felt like you were breaching his privacy. It was wrong to look into your friend, but you knew he wouldn’t tell you the truth. You two had grown close over the months, but you weren’t entitled to any information. On the other hand, this was a mission and Matt Murdock shouldn’t mean anything to you. 

Shouldn’t. It didn’t mean that he didn’t. Because he did. 

Matt was caring and sweet and he offered to walk you home every chance he had. Sure, being around him made you question what would really happen if he did accept joining Shield. Would you see him more? Would you work together? You certainly hoped so. 

He made you giddy and happy every time you saw him. With each passing day, it was harder to put the mission first. You had to force your thoughts back to where they should be and prevent them from wandering. 

Before today, you weren’t sure what you would have done had someone actually provoked you. You couldn’t give up your cover and he couldn’t see to fight back. At least that’s what you thought. 

All of Matt’s records had shown he had been blind since childhood, confirming what Foggy had said. All of the school records, insurance claims, doctors appointments, and everything in between. So, if Matt really was blind, how could he sense something before it happened? Could whatever he was doing be connected to Daredevil? Were you closer than you thought? 

—

“What’s your thoughts on Daredevil?” You asked him one day as he walked you home from the bar. 

“I think he’s protecting the city in the best way he knows how.” 

“How do you think he does it?” 

“I think any empathetic person would want to do what’s right for their home. He may not show it in the best way. Vigilantism isn’t the only way to stop criminals.” 

“But he never kills anyone. He leaves them to get their justice. I’d say he was trying to protect the innocents.” 

Matt shrugged. You led him down the street to your apartment. His hand lingering on your arm and his other using his cane to tap the ground ahead of him. “Everyone tries their best.” 

“You’re right.” You offered him a smile. His close proximity to you made you nervous. You hadn’t felt anything like this since you were a kid. 

Matt had a habit of bringing out feelings inside you that you shouldn’t be having. Especially since you were undercover on a mission. But you couldn’t stop yourself. He was handsome and kind. He said nice things to you and made you feel valued. 

“Do you want to come up for a drink?” 

He chuckled. “We just left Josie’s.” He leaned in close to you. His lips barely brushed the shell of your ear. “Unless drinks weren’t the only thing on your mind?” 

You blushed and put a hand on his chest, but you didn’t push him away. You grabbed his collar and pulled him closer to your body, until he was flush against you. “Not at all, Murdock. My intentions are pure.” 

He laughed again. The sound vibrating your body and bringing warmth throughout you. “I have a feeling you’re not as innocent as you pretend to be.” 

“Only one way to find out.” 

“Lead the way, sweetheart.” 

—

It took you a few months to find Daredevil again. Rather, for him to find you. You had gotten word that human traffickers were dragging girls to storage containers at the docks, ready to ship them out to other countries. You were behind a set of containers, watching as a total of nine men were guarding the space and transporting screaming women. They begged and pleaded to be let go. Each desperate cry tugged on your heart strings and made you grip your gun a bit tighter. 

You peeked your head back around and away from the men and took a deep breath. You made sure your mask was secured tightly to your face when you suddenly saw a shadow slip past the corner of your eye. You turned in the direction of the movement when there was a sudden tap on your shoulder. You spun around with your gun drawn, but a gloved hand slipped over your mouth, muffling the squeal that threatened to escape. 

“If you scream, you blow our cover,” Daredevil whispered. He removed his hand and you lowered the gun. “There’s twelve guys here. We have to take them out.” 

“I count nine.” 

“There’s three in the containers. I can hear them with the girls.”

Your stomach lurched and spun in knots. Your heart beat with anxiety and rage. You needed to save the girls. “Are any of them dead?” 

Daredevil craned his head to the side, listening. He shook his head. “No, but one’s in critical condition. We have to move. None of them are wearing bullet proof jackets, but leave them alive.” 

He went around the side and you went in guns blazing. Gunshots rang out and bullets whizzed past you. You shot three men right off the bat, aiming for their thighs and stomachs so they wouldn’t be able to fight or chase you. You could hear the sound of Daredevil hitting the men and their grunts.

The men had little training in combat. Enough to get on your nerves when you couldn’t quickly subdue them, which only added to your anger. You had taken on four of the men and knocked them all to the ground before you risked a glance over at the masked man. He was only engaging one guy, so you rushed to the women. They whimpered and thanked you as they stumbled out of the container. 

“You need to go. Go find the police. Tell them to send EMS for her.” You pointed at the one who was barely conscious and was bleeding profusely. 

“We can’t leave her,” one of the brunettes said. 

“I promise you that nothing will happen to her. Go!” 

You looked down at the woman who had just lost consciousness. She had a strikingly similar appearance to your own sister. The thought made tears well in your eyes and the ache in your limbs to suddenly become much more apparent. 

The woman’s facial features faded and all you could see was your sister’s face, covered in blood and dirt. Her fingertips dirty, gashes in her arms, and torn clothing. It was like you were finding your sister’s body all over again, just like when you were a kid. 

As you stood staring at the woman, you heard the sudden rapid clicking and buzzing of a taser only moments before your muscles twitched and reacted to the electricity running through your body. You fell to your knees and the man behind you hit you again. You cried out as the pain bloomed throughout your body. 

“You stupid bitch. Do you know how much money you just cost me? Ten thousand per chick! Fuck!” You turned over on your back and scrambled to scoot away from him. Your elbow hit the foot of the woman on the ground and you stopped moving. He hit you again in the stomach with the taser. This time, the pain was more intense and left your muscles so weak you could barely move them. You screamed louder. “Well, I suppose I’ll just have to unmask the Angel and then the mob gets their hands on you and rips you apart.” The taser met your body again, but only lasted a few seconds. 

When your eyes fluttered open again, you saw Daredevil beating the man into the metal floor of the container. The splatter of blood sent a spike of adrenaline through you and you bolted up. You grabbed the masked man by the shoulders and pulled him away. 

“You’re gonna kill him!” 

“He’s fine,” he panted. “We have to go. The cops are on the way.” 

You looked over at the girl. “I’m not leaving her.” 

“You’ve just been shot and If you don’t want to get caught-“ 

“I said I’m not leaving her!” You yelled. “If anything happens to her-“ 

“Then we wait until they get her from a distance so we can get away. If they catch us, they’re arresting us and taking us to jail. I don’t know about you, but I’m too pretty for prison.” 

You let out a dry laugh. He extended his hand and you looked at the girl one more time before reluctantly taking his. He led you out of the container and behind some crates a few hundred feet away. You watched in silence as the police cars and ambulance pulled up. They rushed into the container and brought the woman out and began handcuffing everyone else on the ground. He ripped off a cloth and tied it around your arm. 

“I told you she would be okay.” 

As you watched the stretcher disappear into the back of the ambulance you felt your limbs get weaker. The last thing you registered was Daredevil saying your name before everything went black. 

You woke up on a couch in a dark room. You couldn’t make anything out as you looked around. As your senses came back, you felt something wrapped around your head. The room wasn’t dark. You were blindfolded. You reached up to remove it, but a sudden warning came to you. 

“Don’t.” 

You froze. “Where am I?” 

“My apartment.” 

“The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen took me to his own house?” 

“Hence the blindfold.” You tried to sit up but he stopped you again. “Don’t move. You’ve been shot, remember?.” 

The pain in your arm suddenly hit you like a truck and you winced. “I barely remember.”

You suddenly felt the blindfold slip off your head. You blinked rapidly as your vision returned. The room was dark, but through the giant windows to your right, neon light shined through. Your heart rate increased as you looked around. 

You were in Matt’s apartment and standing in front of you, in a red suit without the mask, was Matthew Murdock. 

“So, you’re the Angel.” 

“And you’re Daredevil.” 

He suddenly lunged forward, putting his arms on either side of you on the back of the couch, caging you in. “Who the hell are you?” He yelled. You could feel the heat radiating off of him. 

“Matt-“ 

“No, don’t bother with your excuses. Over the course of six months you wormed your way into my life, my friends’ lives. You offer me a place at Shield. You’re on a mission here.”

You could swear you could hear sadness and betrayal alongside the anger in his voice. 

“I work for Shield,” you confirmed. “Director Fury is impressed with the work you’ve done here in the Kitchen. He wants you to join Shield and go on missions and possibly join the Avengers. Though he told me to warn you about everyone. They have trust issues and-“ 

“Y/N.” 

“Sorry.” 

He sighed and stepped away from you. He began pacing the floor. “Everything I’ve told you, everything we’ve done—you’ve done to get close to me. You told them everything, didn’t you?” 

“Not everything.” You stood up and the pain from your gunshot wound ran through your body and you winced. “I didn’t sleep with you for Shield.”

“How did you think this was going to go, Y/N? Did you think I would leave Hell’s Kitchen for a fancy job in DC? The Avengers save the world. I protect a city. That’s not the same thing.” He gestured between you both. “And us? Did you think we would ride off into the sunset or something? Live a white picket fence life?” 

“I don’t know! I didn’t think of anything other than us in the moment. Matt, I think I’m-“

“No.” 

“What?” 

“It was a hookup. A one night stand. Nothing more. You don’t mean anything to me. I’m not joining Shield. You can go back to Fury and tell him everything he needs to know. Matt Murdock is Daredevil with enhanced senses due to an accident involving a chemical spill that took his eyesight but dialed every other sense up to eleven. He’s lived in the city his entire life and is a defense lawyer. Office hours are eight to six on weekdays, just in case you need that for the report too. Leave out the part where I made you come three times the other night though.” 

You felt tears welling in your eyes. You sniffed and wiped them away and forced a smile on your face. You leaned down and grabbed your mask off the coffee table. “You’re a dick.” 

“So I’ve been told.” 

“Sorry that I got the impression otherwise.” 

“Me too.” He walked into his kitchen and you walked to the door of the apartment that you knew all too well. You slammed it shut as you left, sinking to the floor, covering your mouth with your hand in an attempt to muffle your sobs. 

You thought he felt the same. You knew falling for him would be a bad thing, but selfishly, you wanted to hope for a better outcome. Obviously, you were wrong. Love and happy endings weren’t for people like you. Fuck Hell’s Kitchen. Fuck Daredevil. Fuck Matt Murdock. 

[mercy-burning]

A Shit-Ton Of Sugar

Part of Mercy’s 1k Celebration: A collection of Spencer Reid x Reader requests to celebrate 1,000 followers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader and Spencer work up the nerve to ask each other out after he’s been coming into her café for the past year. Category: FLUFF Warnings: Implied smut, nothing else :) Word Count: 5.3k

Full Request: “...Congrats on 1k that’s so exciting! I was hoping to request barista!reader that works at the coffee shop that Spencer goes to every morning, and literally knowing his order by heart??? And maybe like finally working up the nerve to ask him out/give him her number? Preferably fluffy, but I don’t mind! Thank you!” — @bauhousewife 

MASTERLIST | 1K MASTERLIST

***

DAY 1

The first day he came into the shop, she felt like she couldn't breathe, which may have sounded like a cliché, but how else were you supposed to feel when a man like that walked in and just existed in the same space as you?

However, when she heard the bell ring, signaling someone coming into the tiny café, the fact that it was almost six-thirty in the morning was enough to make her grumpy. Whoever it was didn't even have the decency to wait a half hour until they officially opened? So, she turned around to face the stranger, ready to put on a fake smile and act like she didn't secretly want to strangle them, and then laid her eyes on probably the most beautiful human being she'd seen in a long time.

His eyebrows lifted, simultaneously expressing a greeting and an apology. "I—I'm sorry, I know you're not technically open for another half hour, but I'm in a rush on my way to work and I was wondering if I could just get a quick coffee to go?"

It was obvious that he tried to speak evenly, but between apologizing and being late to work, his words still came out rather fast. And suddenly her annoyance faded, quickly turning into a need to please him however she could.

"Oh! Oh, no worries, I can do that," she rushed out, scrambling to smooth out her apron. "What can I get you?"

A flash of relief flooded the man's eyes when he blinked, and his posture seemed just as relieved, his shoulders slumping slightly as he took a breath. "Just a black coffee with lots of sugar is fine, thank you."

"No problem. I'll have that up in a minute. Size?"

"Large, please."

As she got to work, he waited as patiently as he could, looking around the small space.

It truly was what everyone would describe as "home-y". Everything was painted a pale yellow, with lavender and sage green accents in the form of window trim, picture frames, little knick-knacks, and art pieces. As the man scanned over the few tables, he found little centerpieces of old ceramic mugs with flowers painted on them, each one containing real (or maybe fake? he couldn't tell) flower arrangements.

He smiled to himself as he found everything so... comforting. And as his eyes finally made their way back to the barista behind the counter, he finally got a good look at her.

"This is... your place? You own it?"

The woman turned back to him briefly as she poured the coffee into a large to-go cup. "Oh, yeah. I just opened up a few months ago. We don't get too much business, but that's fine by me as long as it's enough to pay the bills."

At her laugh, he smiled a little wider. It was a nice sound, just as comforting and home-y as the place he stood in. "Well, i—it's really nice, congratulations. I'm glad things are working out for you."

She laughed again a little, and if he knew any better he would have swore she was blushing. "Thank you. Um... How much sugar did you say you wanted?"

It was his turn to blush now, the way she was looking at him completely doing something wicked to his insides. "O—oh, um... I guess I never really did specify, huh? Sorry about that, um... Just three tablespoons is fine."

It was clear that he really didn't want to be an inconvenience, even more so when he mumbled a, "Sorry," so soft that Y/N wasn't even sure she heard it. Even still, she put on her best smile—even as she was turned around—to make sure he knew that she wasn't annoyed with him at all.

Though, it wasn't hard to keep smiling when she couldn't think to do anything else around him. Just the thought of his face made her want to smile, like she had a choice in the matter.

She finished the coffee, putting on a lid and turning around to face him again. "Can I get your name?"

He paused for a moment, like he was shocked she'd even ask, but laughed to himself and swallowed before responding, two syllables that almost sent her into cardiac arrest. "Spencer."

Suits him... she thought as she wrote his name down on the cup, her handwriting a pretty mix of cursive and print. And seeing his name spelled out in the penmanship she always got complimented on growing up looked like it might have been the most satisfying black marker trail she'd ever seen. Almost as satisfying as his face...

She cleared her throat and slid the cup across the counter to him, hoping she wouldn't be too obvious about her little eye-candy crush when she spoke. "Three-fifty is your total."

Spencer grabbed a five dollar bill from his jacket pocket and held it out, his fingers just barely brushing hers when she took it from him. If not for the intense concentration she was immersed in, trying not to embarrass herself, she would have jumped at the contact. Instead, she quickly ducked her face behind the tall register to keep from him seeing the stupid grin she couldn't keep away as she opened the drawer and started counting change. When she handed it over, though, she set it on the counter, hoping she could avoid touching him again.

He looked like he was about to say something, but instead, he scooped the change into his hand and immediately dropped it in the empty tip jar, a small smile on his face.

Just as Y/N said, "Thank you," Spencer grabbed his coffee and said the same, the both of them immediately going warm at the interaction. They let out a small laugh then, Y/N tucking a piece of hair behind her ear before she spoke again.

"Thank you for coming in," she said with a nod.

Spencer took a sip of his coffee and nodded back with a nod of his own. "A—and thank you for the excellent coffee."

Even after he left, she waited until he was across the street and completely out of sight before she let out a long, dramatic breath, immediately followed by a, "Holy shit."

And little did she know, it took everything within him not to keep looking back at the café as he left it—and her—behind.

DAY 5

She should have known it was too good to be true. In fact, if it weren't for the vivid physical and emotional reaction she'd had to seeing him lasting for days after it happened, she would have though she'd imagined the entire interaction. Spencer was quite literally the man of her dreams, if only because that's the one and only place he seemed to exist as of late.

Of course, it'd only been five days, and there was a possibility that he could come in again. Right?

Y/N shook away all thoughts of him as best as she could, focusing her attention to cleaning up the tables and closing for the night. The café was empty, the last customer having left no more than five minutes ago. But even as she cleaned tables, Y/N kept the sign on the door flipped to 'OPEN'— because the café closed for good at 10pm, and it was only 9:47. Though no one ever came in past 9:30, she figured it was better safe than sorry.

Soon enough, the small café started to smell more like lemon-scented surface cleaner than coffee, but Y/ didn't mind. In fact, as much as she loved the smell of coffee, after a long day it started to give her a little headache, one that instantly cleared once she started cleaning and closing up. It was calming, getting the place ready for the next day in the peace and quiet. She always turned half of the lights off so it wasn't as bright, a fact she was grateful for especially after the sun went down, but mostly because it made the place feel more atmospheric. Dim lighting during nightfall was probably Y/N's favorite feeling in the world.

At least, she thought it was.

She wasn't so sure anymore when the bell on the door rang and she turned around to see the man of her dreams, in all his tall, well-dressed, beautiful glory. 

She froze instantly, the bottle of cleaner falling softly from her hands and dropping onto the table, making her jump.

"Oh, I—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Spencer said quietly.

"N—no, it's... Um, it's fine," Y/N laughed, more embarrassed than anything. "I just wasn't expecting anyone to come in so late, we usually don't get anyone after 9:30."

"Yeah, I... I know it's late, I apologize, um... I just got back from work and I figured I'd stop by for a pick-me-up, i—if that's alright."

There he went again, acting like being in her presence was such an inconvenience for her, and it made her stomach do flip flops. There was no way he wasn't a figment of her imagination, right? He always showed up at the weirdest time, nervously asking for a cup of coffee like he wasn't supposed to be there.

Granted, this was only the second time it's happened, but the sentiment remained the same.

Either way, Y/N was happy to oblige.

"It's always alright. What can I get you this time?" She smoothed out her apron before sprinting behind the counter, turning on a lamp in the back that illuminated more of the kitchen.

"Oh, a black coffee is fine."

She couldn't help but laugh as she grabbed a to-go cup. "No mountains of sugar this time?"

To her surprise, he laughed back, and the sound made her feel warm. She wasn't looking at him because she was laser-focusing on the coffee making as to not make another embarrassment of herself, but she could see his smile in her head all the same. Hopefully the dimmer lighting wouldn't give her away, another stupid grin rising to her face.

"Mountains of sugar would be fantastic, actually," he said, his voice ever so warm and friendly, albeit soft. He was obviously tired, and if he was looking to stay awake, this coffee would definitely do the trick for a few hours.

"You sound like you had quite a long day," Y/N observed as she started brewing a new pot of coffee.

"Long week, more like... Work has been... a little rough."

The exhaustion threaded in his voice made her heart ache a little. "I'm sorry to hear that. Though, it sounds like you should be getting sleep instead of coffee."

When Spencer laughed this time, it was humorless. "Yeah, well, in my line of work sleep doesn't really come easily..."

Y/N glanced up at him then to see his head tilted upward as he stared at the ceiling. The dim lights of the café accentuated the peak of his nose and his jawline, and if not for the clear exhaustion highlighting his features, she would have taken more excitement in the fact that he was there, standing in front of her looking like a beautiful sculpture for free.

Though that was definitely an upside to him finally stopping by again, deep down she knew the reason he was there now wasn't because of her; He needed coffee, some semblance of comfort and probably normalcy after a shitty week. And Y/N was inclined to understand exactly how he felt in that regard.

"I'm sorry to hear that," is all she said on the subject. But she had an idea, hoping to brighten his day just a little, to bring another smile to his face. "Tell you what, I'll give you an extra coffee, no additional charge, and if you want, I'll even send you on your way with some of these extra muffins."

The half-worried, 'oh-shit-I'm-being-a-hassle' look on his face was almost familiar at this point, making Y/N laugh a little to herself.

"O—oh, Y/N, I couldn't do that, I—"

Ignoring the feeling she got when he said her name aloud, she stopped him, shook her head, and started pouring the freshly brewed coffee into two large to-go cups. "Really, Spencer, it's fine. I'll have to throw it all out otherwise, and this way it saves me the trouble. Trust me, you'd be doing me a favor."

"A—are you sure? I don't want to get you in trouble..."

"I own the place," she replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. "And since I'm my own boss, I can confidently say that I won't get in trouble."

Though his smile wasn't as wide as she remembered, the sweetness and utter thankfulness she saw in it this time around was enough to call it a win. "Thank you... A—and again, I know it's late, I'm sorry for coming in—"

"Nonsense. You're welcome here any time," she reassured him with a smile almost as sweet as his coffee.

Maybe one day Spencer would stop apologizing, but as long as he kept returning to the café, Y/N didn't mind whether he did or not.

DAY 30 

Y/N was feeling rather bold today. Not bold enough to actually ask him out or anything, but bold enough to have his order ready when he came in.

Over time she learned that Spencer's work schedule was pretty random, that he traveled a lot, therefore he probably wouldn't be in every day. But a few days ago, he mentioned he was scheduled for a week off, which rarely happened, and today marked the fifth day of his mini vacation— every single day prior, he stopped in at exactly 9:00am. 

Taking the chance that he would be stopping in a fifth day in a row, Y/N was already making his usual coffee at 8:50.

Beside her, her friend and employee, Heather, snickered, finishing up with a customer and teasing Y/N with an evil grin. "You're so whipped."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she responded quietly, stirring in the mountains of sugar and setting the spoon down beside the cup.

"If you don't ask him out, Y/N, I swear... No way a man like that's gonna stay single forever, you gotta make your move."

"Who says I'm not going to?"

"Oh, so when you hand him his coffee today, you're going to give him your number and not just freeze and chicken out? You know, like you always do?"

She glared at Heather, but it only lasted for a split second before it turned into a look of pure pining and sadness. Pathetic... "Probably not..."

Heather patted Y/N on the shoulder. "It's alright, babe. When he comes in, just be yourself. He obviously likes you, enough to come in every day for your shitty coffee..."

The shit-eating grin on her friend's face was enough to make Y/N laugh again, and she shook her head, then turned back to put the lid on Spencer's cup. "Yeah, yeah... We'll see what happens. But I get what you're saying."

As Heather went off to clean some tables, Y/N wrote out his name on the cup, contemplating whether or not she should put her number next to it. What could be the harm in that, right? It was cute and charming as hell.

Just as she was about to write the first number down the chimes sounded above the door, and as some type of Pavlovian response, Y/N set down the marker and looked up to see if it was him. Instantly she berated herself for being so obvious, but by the look on Spencer's face when he approached, he didn't look phased in the slightest.

"Hey, Sugar," Y/N called out to him, sliding him the coffee and feeling butterflies swarm her stomach at the look on his face when he heard the nickname.

Then she realized she called him by a nickname...

Even though he still smiled and took the coffee, reaching into his pocket for money and clearly not phased in the least by her affectionate nickname for him, it still made her insides flare with a little embarrassment. And if she wasn't nervous about seeing him before, she most certainly was now that he was in front of her, smiling at her and being as kind and charming as ever with few words.

He was going to leave, grabbing the cup and turning, but halfway to the door, he turned back around, and when he spoke it sounded like he was as nervous as she was.

"Oh, um... I'm leaving to visit my mom this weekend, so, I just... Wanted to let you know... You know, so you don't waste your time and resources on my order..."

Though he was obviously looking out for her, Y/N still felt this overwhelming flood of foolishness, like he actually did find it strange that she memorized his order and made it for him so it would be ready on the dot when he got there. She figured, just for a moment, that it was his subtle way of telling her he thought she was taking things to a whole new level of weird.

"O—Oh, sure. Thanks for the heads up. Enjoy your weekend." She gave him her best smile, hoping her insecurity didn't bleed through.

But then he said, "You, too, Y/N," and smiled back, looking at her for a moment that lingered just a little too long before turning away. And before he actually walked out the door, he stopped and looked back at her again, giving a small wave as his face showed all signs of reluctance to leave.

She wasn't sure how long she stared at the empty doorway, but Heather's laugh broke her from the trance.

"You know you have nothing to worry about, right? He's definitely into you."

"You... You think?" she returned softly.

"I know. The next time he comes in, give him your number."

DAY 84

Turns out, Heather was completely wrong.

Y/N hadn't seen Spencer for weeks, and then the next time he came in, there was a girl with him. Y/N tried extra hard not to jump to conclusions— maybe she was just a friend? Or a sibling, or a co-worker... And besides, even if the girl was dating him, it's not like it would have been any of her business, right? She barely knew the guy, and though it hurt to have this stupid crush on him just to find out he had a girlfriend and she'd misread the entire situation, that's all it was. A crush.

A crush that, in the end, well... crushed her.

Because the girl was, in fact, his girlfriend. He didn't really introduce her at first, but the second day they came into the café together, they were holding hands. And the girl, short and pretty and adorning a beautiful mane of long, red hair, clung to his side, giving him the same doe eyes Y/N had been teased by Heather for giving him that day he'd left. Not to mention, when they ordered, the girl called him "Babe".

It was absolutely crushing.

Y/N didn't want to cry, because it was stupid for a grown woman to cry over some dude she barely knew, right? But that didn't stop the tears from welling as soon as said dude and his freaking girlfriend stepped out of the café, leaving her behind with an ache that she hadn't felt in ages.

She and Heather went out drinking that night, and after a few days of wallowing, Y/N promptly decided that Spencer and his stupid, beautiful face and his stupid, beautiful girlfriend could kiss her ass.

Of course, immediately after, she felt bad for thinking so negatively and just settled on staying out of their business.

But it didn't help that they came in almost every day for months. Even when Spencer was at work, therefore absent, his girlfriend was there. Jeannie, her name was. She had a regular order, too, one that Y/N couldn't help but dread making every morning but did anyway, even going so far as to have it ready for her when she came in. And Jeannie was incredibly nice, a fact which Y/N hated because it would have been way easier to deal with if she was awful. At least then, she could have maybe felt better about herself for being a nicer person, but she knew that wasn't fair.

This particular day, though, Spencer came in alone. And despite herself, the first thing Y/N said to him was, "Where's Jeannie?"

Maybe she should have known by the look on his face, but he sighed, returning her question with a simple, "Delaware."

Y/N started to make his usual order, keeping the conversation light even though she was inwardly sighing at he prospect of discussing his girlfriend's whereabouts. "What's she doing there?"

She wasn't looking at him, but the sadness in his voice stopped her in her tracks. "She's there with her husband."

"Uh... What?"

"Turns out she's been engaged for the past five years... They, uh... Took a break to see other people to really see if they wanted to get married, and I guess they... got married. Last week."

"Holy shit. Spencer, I... I don't know what to say, I'm... sorry..."

He didn't say anything, only giving a half-hearted smile that conveyed more sadness than anything. Y/N hated that someone had the audacity to make him feel that way... to use him like that without at the very least telling him her situation first, before getting into a relationship.

She finished his order, but before handing it to him, she reached for a blueberry muffin and wrapped it up. And as he took money out of his pocket, she sook her head and slid his things over across the counter. "Everything's on the house today."

"Y/N, you don't have t—"

"I insist. Jeannie did a stupid thing, and you deserve better than that... You deserve something good. And I know this is small and probably nothing, but I don't care."

A little of the sadness from his smile replaced itself with amusement, and Y/N decided she'd take it. He muttered a small, "Thank you," before grabbing his coffee, but before he took the muffin he looked her dead in the eye and deposited the five dollar bill from his other hand straight into the tip jar.

She sighed and shook her head at him.

But that only widened the smile on his face, most of the sadness gone. In fact, it looked more like a satisfied smirk as he grabbed the muffin and turned to leave.

Despite Spencer's refusal to not pay, Y/N found herself smiling as he left.

DAY 174

Thankfully there were no more girlfriends after that. 

Well, okay, it wasn't fair of Y/N to say that, because if she wanted to take her shot she would have, and she couldn't get mad every time he had a new girlfriend. 

But of course, that didn't mean she couldn't be relieved every time she saw him walk in alone.

This time it was Valentine's Day. The café was decorated with sparkly red garland and pink, red, and white hearts that dangled from the ceiling. All the flowers on the tables were replaced with roses and tealight candles, and currently, almost everyone was rushing to buy the chocolate-covered strawberry arrangements that Y/N made herself. 

She was currently in the back, working on making more when Heather came rushing to the room, calling out her name.

A small panic started to sink in, because if Heather needed more supplies or more of the strawberry arrangements, she would have just sent back a ring of the bell on the doorway to the kitchen. But she almost knocked over said arrangements on her way in, and Y/N was worried that maybe something bad happened.

"Heather, what's wrong?" she asked hurriedly, smearing chocolate all over her apron.

"Nothing's wrong, but your boy is here. He's asking to see you!"

Her heart leapt out of her chest, and suddenly it was like the wind got knocked out of her. "S—Spencer?"

"Yes!" Heather half-squealed, reaching out to pull at Y/N's arm. "Go!"

"Wait! Wait, how... how do I look?"

"Take off the apron, pull down your shirt a little."

"Heather!"

"You asked! If he's here to ask you out, why not give him a little preview? Now c'mon, hand the apron over." She held her hand out, waiting for Y/N to take it off.

She grumbled as she did, suddenly more nervous than she'd ever been. Her hands shook as she untied the apron and threw it over to Heather. She looked down at the deep red v-neck she wore and sighed, pulling it down a little to give a better view of her cleavage. She fluffed her hair out, letting out a huge sigh and then shaking out her hands.

"You're hot, now go!" Heather exclaimed, practically pushing her out of the kitchen and into the bright café main room.

The moment Y/N stepped out, she saw him immediately. And as always, he looked absolutely perfect... In the last few months, he'd let his hair grow out a little, strands of it tucked behind his ear while most of it fell loose atop his head. Currently he was wearing a long coat, though she couldn't tell what was underneath. But she didn't need to know, really, because he could have showed up wearing a garbage bag and she still would have practically drooled at the sight of him.

Swallowing, Y/N made her way over to him with a smile, Heather following behind.

"Hi," she said, hoping her nerves wouldn't show through. "Heather said you asked for me?"

"U—uh, yeah. Hi, um... Sorry if you're busy, I just wanted to... stop by, say Happy Valentine's Day..."

Her heart beat faster than it ever had, and seeing him smile this nervously in her direction made it all the more endearing. "Oh, thank you," she said, giving him a small wave and then wondering why when she could have done literally anything else... Wink? Finger guns?—No, Y/N, what are you thinking? Just keep cool and talk to him like a normal person! "Do you... have any plans?"

Spencer stood still, seemingly starstruck by the question for a few, long, seconds before blinking and slightly shaking his head. "O—Oh, yeah, um... Some friends and I are going out for drinks later, that's all. Should be kinda boring, actually, not really my scene..."

"Oh... Boring's nice, though, sometimes. Personally all the huge Valentine's Day plans are kinda over-the-top anyway." She might as well have been wearing a sign on her forehead that said Lie! Lie! Lie!

He laughed, though, and Y/N's heart sunk. "Yeah, you're right... Um, I'll let you get back to work, then, I just wanted to stop in and say hi." 

"Oh... You don't... want coffee or anything? I—I've got these chocolate-covered strawberry arrangements, too, if you want one. You know, 'cause why not?"

"Oh! Uh, sure. That... That sounds great."

His smile lit her insides on fire, ad she tried desperately not to stumble as she worked her way through the kitchen, making everything. He waited patiently by the side of the counter, trying equally as hard not to keep sneaking glances at her as she worked. Meanwhile the pink post-it note with his phone number in red ink burned in his pocket, his hands shaking as he struggled to think of a scenario in which he wouldn't fumble with it and completely make a fool of himself. Because now that he was there, in her presence, it was a lot harder to pretend like he had the confidence to actually ask her out.

And when she brought his order, she flashed that beautiful smile and he knew immediately that he would never be able to give her the post-it. Whether she knew it or not, she made him nervous, and if he was going  to mess everything up, he certainly wasn't going to do it in a café full of people on Valentine's Day. He'd never recover.

So Spencer accepted the coffee and the small bouquet of fruit, trying his best not to drop it with shaky hands. "Thank you. How much?"

"For you, on the house," Y/N returned. "And please don't just put a 5 in the tip jar. I'm getting really tired of you doing that."

They both laughed, the memories of every time since the last time he'd done it sparking between them like lightning. Almost every time she insisted on giving him his coffee for free, he pulled a 5-dollar bill from his pocket and landed it in the jar, and every time she rolled her eyes at him and told him to get out.

"Well, I have to give you something," Spencer insisted, the paper in his pocket burning even hotter.

Likewise, Y/N felt like she was going to lose her balance again. Was he going to ask her out? Heaven forbid, would he kiss her? "What do you have in mind?"

The deep tone of her voice sent a chill through him, and in that moment it was now or never. So he set the coffee down on the counter and reached into his pocket. Y/N opened her mouth to protest, but he stopped her with a raise of his eyebrows. "It's not what you think. I promise."

Somehow she didn't believe him.

But then he pulled out a hot pink piece of paper and slipped it in the tip jar instead, his eyes never leaving hers. "I really hope you empty the jar at the end of every day, otherwise this is going to be a little embarrassing."

"What... What is it?" she asked softly, though she already had an inkling of the answer.

And then he said something that made her heart soar. "I think you already know."

Sure enough, Y/N looked down and saw numbers written on the sheet of paper through the glass. She smiled, letting it burn heart-shaped holes into her eyes.

Spencer was gone when she looked back up, but the image of him was still seared into her brain.

DAY 366

They hadn't even made it out of the parking lot. And you'd think that after months of dating and going on dates he would have been used to how pretty she looked, but alas, yet again he couldn't wait, and now Spencer and Y/N were laying in the backseat of her car, praying no one had just seen what went down not twenty minutes ago.

"You know what, I think that has to be a record," she laughed, combing through his damp hair with her fingers. "I didn't even have my seatbelt on yet."

He laughed with her. "You know I'm impatient..."

"Yeah, and I also know that we're certainly not going to make those dinner reservations you worked so hard all month to get. All that hard work, for nothing!"

He scoffed, though the smirk on his face never faltered. "I hardly think it was for nothing... You are definitely something... Besides, I had to, because today is very special."

"Oh, and why's that?"

"Well... I don't know if you know this, but you and I met exactly one year ago today. And I've never been the same since."

Y/N looked up at him, eyes wide. "Has... Has it really been that long already?"

"Mhm... And it only seems like it hasn't been that long because we've only been technically dating for 192 days... But I wanted to celebrate anyway. Because no matter how long we've been dating, I've actually been enamored by you for 366 days. And counting."

Warmth flooded through her veins as she hugged him tighter to her, pressing a kiss to his jaw before nuzzling into his neck. "Oh, Sugar... I love you."

Spencer smiled fondly at the nickname, thinking back to all the times he'd watched her pour a shit-ton of sugar into his coffee at her cute little café— the one he'd only ever stumbled on by accident because he was running late for work and needed a quick fix of caffeine. Turns out it had been the best accident he'd ever stumbled into.

"I love you, too, Y/N."

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[immaturityofthomasastruc]

IOTA Reviews: Optigami

For the first time this season, we're actually acknowledging what happened at the end of the last season. Of course, it's the thirteenth episode chronologically, so you can tell the writers really wanted to strike while the iron was hot.

Let's get into the ninth (chronologically the thirteenth) episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fourth season: Optigami.

We start off with Nathalie recounting the events of “Miracle Queen” to Gabriel, where Chloe exposed the identities of the temp heroes, which is kind of odd considering they were both there. Then again, it's entirely possible Gabriel forgot what happened given we're literally halfway through the season chronologically. According to Nathalie, she created a Sentimonster the very next day to spy on the heroes. After a lot of surveillance by the Sentimonster, named Optigami, all Nathalie and Gabriel really found out was that the heroes were just regular teenagers who occasionally got a Miraculous from Ladybug without even learning her identity, all while we learn she continued to give Miraculous out to the heroes despite the risk to their safety.

Okay, a few questions here. First, why the hell didn't Hawkmoth/Shadowmoth or Mayura try something like this from the beginning? It took you two lucking out in finding out the identities of seven heroes to think about spying on your enemies? Second, Mayura created Optigami the next day? Wasn't she in a lot of pain as a result of using the Peacock for a whole season? At least when she created a Sentimonster in the New York special, it was set a vague amount of time after “Miracle Queen”. Third, Ladybug is seriously recruiting the same heroes again after the rules that she imposed onto Chloe? You know, the person who couldn't use the Bee Miraculous again because of the risk to her safety, and ultimately betrayed Ladybug because she hated the rule? Seriously, the video footage shows Ladybug recruiting Ryuko, someone whose identity Shadowmoth already knew before “Miracle Queen”, so this makes even less sense. If Chloe doesn't get her Miraculous after exposing her identity to the whole world, the same should apply to the other heroes too. If they wanted to make Chloe an exception, all they had to do was have Ladybug bench Queen Bee because she didn't trust Chloe in her civilian life. This just makes Ladybug come off as a hypocrite who serves to justify Astruc's warped mentality that Chloe doesn't deserve a Miraculous even though she lost hers for the same reason as the others.

Nathalie calls Optigami a failure, but Gabriel actually uses his brain for once and comes up with a plan to take out all of the temp heroes at once by putting them in a situation where Ladybug is forced to recruit one of them in order to stop an Akuma. He calls Audrey Bourgeois, a major fashion magazine writer and praises her idea to give a monthly award to a fashion icon, and Gabriel says “there's no better introduction than giving it to his son”, so I'm not sure if he told Audrey to give the award to Adrien, or if he already got the award and Gabriel was just capitalizing on the chance.

So we cut to Marinette and Alya hanging out in the former's room, and surprise, surprise, Marinette is gushing over Adrien. It isn't a love story if there's a single scene not talking about the love interest according to Astruc.

Yeah, despite not being on the list of targets, Marinette got a ticket to the award show because the writers weren't sure how else they could work her into the plot. The Kwamis ask if they can come along, forgetting about the fact that they need to be a secret or be with an owner (guessing Marinette learned her lesson after “Furious Fu”). I'm starting to think I was a little too harsh on Master Fu considering he managed to put up with these godlike idiots for 176 years.

Alya and Trixx, the Fox Kwami, bring up a decent point that now that Alya knows she's Ladybug, she can take a more active role in helping her as Rena Rouge if she had the Fox Miraculous full-time, while Marinette points out the fact that it's too risky for anyone but her to hand out Miraculous. This is brief, but I like this little disagreement here. While I think Marinette could have brought up the fact that Shadowmoth knows Alya's identity in her argument, both sides still make a good point, and this will come into play later on, for better or for worse.

So Marinette and Alya head out to the award party where they meet up with Adrien, Kagami, Luka, Kim, Max, and Nino, with Alya doing a secret handshake with him that I'm sure won't be important later on. We also get a hilarious scene of Alya once again trying to force Marinette into an elevator with Adrien with the explicit intent to have her get closet to Adrien, while she unsurprisingly freaks out, leading to some brief Unfunny Marinette Slapstick.

So much for Marinette growing after the second umbrella scene.

Optigami is set up, and Shadowmoth creates a Sentimonster of the man hosting the award ceremony, and takes the opportunity to do what we've all wanted to do since Audrey's first appearance in late 2018.

I can't believe I'm saying this, but thank you, Gabriel Agreste. You're the real MVP of this episode.

So Shadowmoth sends out an Akuma to akumatize Audrey into his “magnum opus”, Style Queen, once again (Audrey is also implied to be willingly akumatized like Chloe in “Queen Banana”). And since the titular Sentimonster plays a big role in Shadowmoth's plan this episode, I think now's a good time to talk about Optigami.

Optigami has a simple design, a butterfly colored like Mayura, but I like the role it plays. It has the power to hide in any solid object and observe the environment like a camera Nathalie watches, all while Style Queen chases after the temp heroes and turns them into piles of gold dust. Whether that's because she's been powered up by Shadowmoth or because the animators can't afford to create new models of the characters as gold statues isn't clear. It still really shows the writers are taking advantage of the concept of Sentimonsters as support for Akumas outside of more muscle.

So Kagami tries to distract Style Queen while Adrien runs, and she is the first to be taken out. Chloe then tells Style Queen where Ladybug went, but she gets targeted because she laughed at her mother earlier, and then tries to use Zoe as a human shield before getting blasted. Oh, thank God. I thought Chloe was going to appear in an episode where the writers didn't remind the audience how much of a terrible person she is and anyone who supports her is just as bad.

Marinette and Adrien both run off to transform, but get into the same elevator together, which then gets broken thanks to Style Queen's interference. This leads to an interesting setup where neither of them can transform and hope their partner will save them, leading to some real tension. There's also thankfully little to no stammering from Marinette in these scenes. It's almost like the writers only have her struggle to talk with Adrien so they don't actually have to write scenes like this. Alya briefly teases Marinette for saying she's stuck in an elevator with Adrien before realizing she's trapped in an elevator with a civilian and can't transform.

After Max and Luka get taken out, Marinette calls a phone she set up near the Miracle Ball to call the Kwamis, pretending to talk to the fire department and secretly tells them to send Kaalki to help her, but Adrien sees Optigami spying on them in the elevator, so Marinette is forced to hang up. Marinette and Adrien are about to transform and reveal themselves to each other, but because neither of them are on the list and because Shadowmoth felt like actually being a decent father today, Optigami retreats with Style Queen, who then takes out Kim, leaving only Alya and Nino left.

Marinette tells Alya to call the Kwamis, but while she does so, she gets a call from Nino, who is soon taken out by Style Queen and... is replaced... by an... evil... doppelganger... The eighth one in four seasons...

The only question I have is how did Shadowmoth create two Sentimonsters in the same day? Did he recharge offscreen? Either way, he sends “Sentinino” after Alya to lure her out, but Kaalki arrives and portals her to Marinette's room, leading to the funniest joke of the episode.

Alya takes the Fox Miraculous and transforms into Rena Rouge and creates an illusion of Ladybug to distract Style Queen while she meets up with Marinette with the Bee Miraculous, but she decides to take the Turtle Miraculous even though Marinette didn't tell her to just to be safe.

Rena Rouge meets up with Sentinino and gives him the Turtle, alerting Shadowmoth to the fact that Alya may have a bigger role than he anticipated. Sentinino transforms into Carapace (or would a more accurate term be Sentipace?) while Optigami hides in the Turtle Miraculous, leading to another interesting conflict. If Style Queen gets Ladybug's Miraculous, Shadowmoth wins, but even if Ladybug wins, Sentipace can swoop in and steal Ladybug's Miraculous when her guard is down. This is David Xanatos levels of planning here.

Rena Rouge escorts Adrien out of the elevator via one of Kaalki's portals, and Marinette transforms into Ladybug before unifying with the Bee Miraculous into Ladybee.

Ignoring the creepy look on her face, I think Ladybee has a pretty good design. I think the black and gold go well with her suit, and the ponytail with the gold streaks is a nice touch. I'm not sure if it's referencing Queen Bee's design, but I like it, as well as the slight antennae on her head. I still prefer Dragonbug's design, but I can see why so many fans love this one too.

Ladybee is surprised Sentipace is there, but accepts his help anyway. Ladybee summons her Lucky Charm, a compact mirror, but when looking around, she doesn't see how to use the Lucky Charm with Sentipace as he isn't highlighted in her vision like certain objects/heroes that play a part in stopping an Akuma. Ladybee uses Venom, and with Sentipace's Shelter, manages to tank Style Queen's blasts and stun her before de-evilizing her.

Cat Noir tries to cataclysm the golden shield Style Queen placed around the building, but shows up too late, being surprised at the presence of Rena Rouge and Sentipace. He jokes about it, but this will somewhat come into play in future episodes.

Ladybug prepares to throw the compact mirror to use Miraculous Ladybug and fix the damage, but through the mirror, sees Nino fail to do the secret handshake with Alya. Ladybug pulls a John McClane and swings off the top of the building and tells Cat Noir to use his Cataclysm to destroy the Turtle Miraculous, releasing Optigami, and giving Nathalie a major headache. Shadowmoth undoes the creations of Optigami and Sentinino and retreats.

Alya is naturally upset that she screwed up and almost let Shadowmoth find out Ladybug's identity, but then, well...

Like with “Gang of Secrets”, I'm very mixed on this ending. Both Alya and Marinette make good points here. Alya knows she almost let Shadowmoth win, but Marinette points out how invaluable Alya was today and realizes how helpless she was doing a lot of things on her own. Even if Alya didn't give the Turtle Miraculous to Sentinino, Marinette still had to face the possibility of revealing herself to Adrien. Like it or not, she needs someone to help her more, and Alya is the only one able to fill that position.

The problem I have is that because of how Marinette phrases that sentence, it comes off like Alya is being rewarded for what happened this episode. I get she helped, but I just find it weird that Marinette doesn't feel a little uncomfortable trusting Alya more after going behind her back and almost screwing up the entire mission in the process. I think the scene could have worked if Marinette was a little more stern towards Alya and realized she had no choice but to give her the Fox, creating a little tension between the two as a result.

So the episode ends with a post-credits scene where Gabriel and Nathalie realize they need to focus more attention onto Alya due to her connection to Ladybug.

But yeah, this was honestly a really good episode. It's become my favorite this season.

The plot has a fair amount of suspense and tension, most of it derived from the very clever plan Shadowmoth has this time, taking full advantage of the repaired Peacock in order to make what was already a very powerful Akuma even more of a threat. There were jokes, but unlike in other episodes that focus on humiliating Marinette or interrupting the tension, they're well-placed. The same goes for the elevator scene. The writers easily could have made Marinette stammer all of her words around Adrien, but for once, they realized that they needed to have her actually interact with him in order to maintain the tension of the episode.

Granted, there are still some flaws, like Marinette really had no reason to be invited to the award ceremony. All they really had to do was have Adrien invite her himself, which would justify her eager reaction at the beginning. It's also strange that nobody brings up the fact that all of Adrien's friends who were invited were temp heroes. I've already gone over the problem with timeline at the beginning as well as the ending and I plan to talk about Rena Rouge's partnership with Ladybug next time.

Overall, this was still a really good episode. Even the evil doppelganger plotline had an interesting twist to it. What's the next episode about again? What? Another evil doppelganger of Nino?

[giorno-plays-piano]

Soooo first of I'm really REALLY happy that I've found your blog and your writing is AMAZING ❤️ And I wanted to ask for a Yandere! Loki x Reader maybe? Were the reader just has a normal life but then Loki sees her while the battle in New York and he can't get her out of his head. And he decides to kidnap her and bring her somewhere nobody can find her. (Sorry if there are mistakes English is not my native language 😅)

Thank you so much, dear! I'm so sorry for being slow with requests. I hope you will enjoy this one! Btw I’m not a native either, but I think your English is totally good 😌

Of gods and monsters

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, implied stalking, kidnapping, allusion to non-con.

Words: 1165.

P.S. Of course, I just had to include one of those overused quotes 🙄

____________

Watching you sleep became one of his favorite things a long time ago, but watching you sleep on a magnificent, enormously big canopy bed meters away from him gave Loki a very different kind of satisfaction: he thought the feeling of owning you could explain it, but there was something else to it, something he couldn’t quite comprehend.

When he first saw you, it was barely the time to get distracted: Chitauri were flooding into New York, and he was fighting Avengers to complete his glorious mission. Yet that was the moment when Loki spotted a lone woman sitting on a bench near a small fountain, a book in her hands when she stared somewhere in front of her, not moving yet showing no great distress. You just sat there, in the heat of the battle, with Chitauri flying over your head on their vehicles. Strangely, you were unharmed while everything around you was promptly getting destroyed.

You reminded Loki of a sacred statue, an ancient deity carved in stone, silent and cold. You cared little for destruction and death surrounding you, deaf to sharp cries of pain and screams. Frozen in place, you were staring into the abyss, and the abyss didn’t frighten you.

Of course, much later, when the Avengers were defeated and Loki gained control over the Earth, he learnt that time you were under heavy medication, indifferent to the world surrounding you, but he didn’t change his mind, watching you secretly from afar. No, you were exactly who he saw you were, and the more he watched, the more Loki knew he couldn’t just leave you among those pathetic human beings surrounding you.

When you shifted slightly beneath the silky rose blanket, his gaze returned to your peaceful face, and Loki sensed you finally waking up: the sleep potion he gave you wasn’t a strong one, but, locked in a human body, you needed a gentle treatment.

Moving your head on a pillow, you covered your eyes with your palm, rubbing the skin a little before you slowly got up; the curves of your body now on display because of a shiny see-through fabric of the ivory nightgown Loki dressed you in. Enjoying the view, he smiled when he realized the potion was still working: your movements were slow and clumsy; you didn’t ever register waking up not in your own bed.

“Did you sleep well?” He raised his voice once he spotted you trying to stand on your shaky legs, and you slowly sat down, turning your head to him.

You were looking at him with almost the same eyes you looked at the fountain that day in New York.

“I did.” You muttered in a quiet voice, observing the man you saw for a first time in your life silently. “Thank you.”

Letting out a soft chuckle, he stood up from his place and headed to you nonchalantly, giving you a chance to look at him in all his glory: enveloped in warm, dozy light, he was that God the short-sighted, foolish humans had always been searching for. But you weren’t one of them, he knew, and he wasn’t surprised when he saw the blank expression on your face instead of adoration and fawning. You were above all that.

“Who are you?”

You were still quiet when you asked Loki a question, and he felt a strange satisfaction seeing you reacting with such grace. When he stayed silent, your eyes starting darting towards the room if you could call this space a room at all. Of course, you had never been to Asgard and could barely imagine what it was like: a place he brought you to looked like something in between a huge hall and cherry gardens lit with light as if Loki brought the sun inside. There was even a little pond surrounded by pale marble stones, and you could see something gleaming in the water. With a lavish, dark-wooden canopy bed, dressers and vanity, it all looked breathtakingly beautiful, but... fake, phantasmagoric, like a composition in an art museum, carefully constructed but having no connection to reality. It was as if this place were frozen in time.

“You have always liked Greek myths, haven’t you?” Loki said, stopping only when he reached your bed and sat close to you, bringing his hand to the back of your neck and softly brushing his fingers against your warm skin. "I remember you had so many books about ancient gods. If I piled them up, they could reach the selling of your apartment."

For the first time, Loki felt you trembling just a little at the mention of your apartment and clear implication that he had been there. Funny, but the fact you were a little scared of him now gave him satisfaction, too, and the way you looked at him told the man you started being aware what exactly was happening.

"What was your most favorite myth, once again?"

Slightly massaging the back of your neck, he then set his hands on your bare shoulders, squeezing them tight until you tensed; he started rubbing them once he felt you flinching. Loki didn't need you to answer his question: he knew well you loved the story of Hades and Persephone. It seemed amusing, if not ridiculous to him that people find this barbaric ritual romantic, but maybe it was for the best: if you liked this odd tradition so much, Loki decided you would find his gesture sympathetic and even compassionate.

Despite the fact you were now aware the man close to you was not a human being, you looked at him with dignity, "Are you a god of the dead, then?"

"Sometimes I am." Tilting his head and letting his long black hair fall on your bare shoulder, Loki touched your cheek with his thumb, and you felt his breath on your skin. "You don't have to worry, I'm not dragging you to Hell, darling, though I won't let you return back to Earth either. This 9 to 3 months rule seems quite silly to me."

"Back to Earth?"

He saw the confusion and visible discomfort on your face when you realized you weren't even in your own realm, and a wicked, sadistic pleasure rose somewhere inside his chest; pure joy washing over him once the realization hit you. There was only one God in front of whom people of Earth were kneeling now.

"Why are you frightened? I expected more from a girl who didn't run from death in New York." You got up on your still shaky legs with Loki watching you with a wide green on his face when you grabbed the headboard, almost falling down: were you truly thinking of escaping him now?

Oh, he was enjoying it so much more than he thought he would. Maybe there was something in that silly myth you humans loved so much, finally.

"If you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you."

____________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin ​@void-hoechlin @abyssaint @heeeyitskay @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks

[rosiegeee]

Best Equestria Girls/Unconfirmed Couples in MLP

This is once again going to be a heavily biased list. I literally like all these ships the same except #10 but it would be a weird list to have a nine way tie. these couples were either only hinted at in the final season of My little pony, were in the comics, or were from Equestria Girls. They will be ranked on how much of a romance they seem to have.

#10:  Applejack and Rainbow Dash

There is nothing wrong with these two being a couple, as they are implied to be in the final episode of MLP, I just never shipped them and never found there was any romantic tension between the two, just friendship. The only romantic thing I can think of is from the scene the picture shows where they are friendly bickering about how Rainbow should be allowed to help Applejack with her farm chores.

#9:  King sombra and Radiant Hope

I love these two so much. Through flashbacks we see how these two met, were the best of friends growing up, and than Sombra falling in love with Hope. Even in his monsterous shadow pony form Sombra wants Hope to be his queen, and Hope still loves him, and when he is turned into a full pony they run off together side by side to explore Equestria finding Amore shards to restore her. Hope risked her safety and her freedom to save Sombra and there love oozes from the pages. However, the reason they are number 9 and not number 1 is because of Sombra’s treatment of her as a shadow pony. He emotionally manipulated her to stay by his side, screamed and yelled at her, threatened her, and kept her basically prisoner in the castle, he changes in the end but that doesn’t change what he did to her.

#8: Flash Sentry and Twilight Sparkle

They used to be my favourite ship when I was young, they were so cute and I found it funny seeing a blushing embarrassed Twilight, something the normal show didn’t have. However I was like 13 at the time when I watched this and Rainbow rocks for the first time, and have since seen some flaws here. There relationship is sweet in the first film and and you can tell how good of a guy Flash is, and Twilight returns these feeling, and the quick showing of them being at the dance together was adorable, but than Rainbow rocks happens. It is made clear to use that the entire time Twilight has been gone Flash has missed her(so cute) but from the show we know Twilight hasn’t thought or mentioned human Flash or pony Flash since, and continues not to think about him until she literally runs into him, and awkwardly the cuteness fades as Twilight no longer seems to know how to interact with him, which upsets Flash. Than as the sirens work there magic they become increasingly hostile towards each other and don’t really get a lot of screen time together for the rest of the movie, and than they literally never see each other again, but Flash still waits for her to return. In Everfree Forest he starts to move on.

#7: Curly Winds and Wiz Kid

I don’t know enough about these two to give them a true ranking so they get this neutral spot, but from the images above I’d say they are a pretty sweet couple. And Being LGBT, I always love representation in tv shows.

#6:  Timber Spruce and Sci-Twi

Sci-Twi was never meant for Flash Sentry, and I’m glad they did not get together, but Timber and Sci-Twi is a different story. He was so sweet to her, and there chemistry seemed natural, and he actually asked her out, something Flash never did, that and the almost kiss. This Twilights reaction to having a crush is different from Princess Twilights, and I love how well she gets along with him. The only reason they are not higher is because he was covering for his sister who planned on doing dangerous and illegal things. That and she’s in high school and he is an unmentioned amount years older who seems to have done this camp at least once before so it could be anywhere from a year difference to six.

#5: Yona and Sandbar

Oh my god, they are so cute. The episode that first shows hints of a romance between these two is also one of my favourites because Yona is worried that the Pony’s attending the dance (aka Sand Bar who is the one who invited her) will judge her because she does not look, act, or dance like a pony(because she’s a Yak) and she tries to make herself more pony only to make a fool of herself and mess up the dance. However when she runs off Sandbar finds her and comforts her and tells her that he liked her for being herself and that he doesn’t care that she is a yak. He than asks her back to the dance where they spend the rest of the night together. Also they are seen holding hoofs in the big fight at the end, and are seeming living together at  Carousel Boutique.

#4: Hoofbeard and Jewel 

If you didn’t read the IDW comics you would never know these two, but the mane six go on an adventure with Captain Hoofbeard and try and find his treasured Jewel, but the X on the map keeps moving, in the end its revealed that Jewel isn’t a gem, but a seapony and an old girlfriend of Hoofbeard. He confesses that he still loves her and wishes they could be together but knows that she breaths water and he breaths air, but Twilight uses a spell that gives him gills and some fins. He traveled the ocean, like how Cranky Donkey traveled the land, to find his love again, and faced many dangers to do so.

#3:  Fluttershy and Discord

I always thought these two should stay friends, especially considering he’s immortal ad she isn’t, but in the later seasons it was impossible to deny the romance forming between the two. Discord loves Fluttershy and gets giddy anytime he thinks about her and has pictures of her, and they have tea parties(dates) every week. For Fluttershy she knows Discord like the back of her hoof and is deeply hurt when he sort of betrays the group in the finally, but before that Angel(her bunny who knows everything about her) while in Fluttershy’s body stated how it was Fluttershy’s wish to MARRY DISCORD. In the finally Discord drops Fluttershy at Twilights and gives her a lunch, implying that they live together and during Fluttershy’s part of the song The Magic Of Friendship Grows, as she sings the line, “And because the love that I feel, For every single living creature is something that is real , Friendship happens so naturally ” Discord comes out of a portal and they stare at each other and se extends her wing out to him as he flies just off screen. The writers say there relationship is up to the viewers interpretation, but they are obviously in love and married by the end. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ImsTS1Kb9ww

#2:  Flash sentry and Sunset Shimmer

Here’s where the bias comes in. In the first film its said how these two used to be a couple but that they broke up not long before the series because of how bad she used to be, and than its never mentioned again until Everfree where Flash and Sunset have a momment where they confide in each other because they still know each other in ways the other main characters don’t know her. Flash even asks her if she’d like to start over, than awkwardly adds the friends part but its obvious hw they look at each other that there is still a spark there and it will most likely be rekindled soon. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VI5lTaUahfU

#1:  King Sombra and Princess Celestia

This was the Romeo and Juliet is Romeo and Juliet where literally from other worlds and actually loved each other. This comic pulled at my heartstrings so much that I could never look at Sombra in the TV show the same way again. In this four part series its revealed that before Luna even became Nightmare moon Celestia had been visiting this other Equestria where its ruled by a kind Sombra and the two fell in love and have secretly been visiting each other on and off since. But there travels is ripping the barrier between the two world apart so they can’t see each other as often. In the end Sombra restores the barrier, saving both there worlds, by sacrificing himself by absorbing the evil of the alternate versions of Luna and Celestia, becoming just like Sombra in Celestia’s world. His final act is telling Celestia to leave him(So he won’t do anything he’d regret to her) than on the final page Celestia alone says how much she still loves him, and in his own dimension, despite being evil, admits how he still loves her as well. In the end they are never allowed to see each other again, but there love still transcends dimensional boarders. 

[my-writings-and-musings]

Here's my latest commission from another wonderful and amazing person! A human reader is secretly a pyrokinetic, but an attack on Rodimus forces them to reveal their powers, and the more they unleash the more their appearance changes...

Warning for some violence and angst!

In the back of your mind, your relationship with Rodimus had been oddly perfect and ironic in ways you'd never dare tell him. The Autobot's love of heat had extended well beyond a simple temperature preference; he had a power over fire you'd never seen the likes of before. Even his own species didn't seem to understand how naturally he wielded flames for combat, nor how he possessed such an incredible resilience to temperatures that would have been painful for most. For his part, the cocky captain took the peculiarity in stride, emblazoning himself with fiery motifs and embracing his nature using an adorable mixture of puns and catchphrases.

It was something you loved about him, and while it perhaps explained some of his adoration of the seemingly unremarkable human that had plopped into his life, it also made you a little wary for his sake. If he only knew how attuned with fire you really were...

The thought of him discovering your greatest secret was a daily intrusion, but for today, you decided that it could go on the back burner. The Lost Light would be docking on a planet safe for humans, and you wanted to enjoy the time off to the fullest of your ability. No worries, no paranoia, no thoughts of past rejection... just you and Rodimus exploring a vibrant alien city together. It was going to be perfect.

"Got your debit chip, Y/N? I'm planning on doing a lot of shopping, and I don't want you to feel left out!" Rodimus said, exuberant even by his own standards as he stepped out onto the landing pad. Giggling as you kept your balance on his shoulder, you let the warm light of a foreign star cascade over your body with a sigh, the sight of a bustling alien port making your heart accelerate in your chest. All around you were races from a hundred different worlds, selling their wares and taking rest stops to relax during long intergalactic trips, and the flurry of sounds and sights and smells was intoxicating. You almost forgot to confirm the device Rodimus mentioned was indeed secure around your neck in a makeshift necklace.

"Got it right here! Show me where we should start, Captain!" You held the tiny black square in between your fingers, unable to imagine something so small holding so much value. Evidently it was the spacer equivalent of a debit card, as the name implied, and after a purchase it would simply be scanned and the necessary amount deducted from your account. Its simplicity was almost as hard to grasp as the fact you'd been gifted a ludicrous amount of money for this trip by Drift. In his own words, the ninjabot had told you to spend it on having a fun day with his best friend. The kindness of the entire crew was still so foreign to you...

"Let's check out the surf shop! My last board melted on an especially high power asteroid, so I need a new one." Rodimus said cheerfully, hefting you a little higher so you were right beside his helm. As a somewhat taller than average individual from a naturally towering species, he had an ideal view over everything in sight, resulting in you having the same. Between the packed landing strip and the notion of a store that sold surfboards for space, you were a little too overwhelmed to speak. Rodimus had no such difficulty. "Oh, or if you're hungry, we could check out an interspecies cafe! They've always got lots of earth food, even out here. Especially the extra spicy stuff you like so much."

For an instant, you were taken aback by his mention of your preference. Had he truly been paying so much attention he noticed such little details? On the one, more dominant hand, you were flattered. Rodimus had to care deeply to have noticed you preferred your food as hot and zesty as physically possible.

"I'm not hungry just yet, but thanks." you said in genuine gratitude, hiding some wariness that you desperately wished would go away. In the past your unnatural preferences had been the first clue most had to your "peculiarities", and it had never taken long from that point for things to come together in the worst possible way. Holding on tight to Rodimus for more than just balance, you quickly returned to the wonderful present, refusing to fall into the belief that the past would repeat itself. "I just want to start wherever you think is best. You're the experienced one, show me what's fun around here!"

"Well, if it's fun you want..." he said in a fake contemplative voice, having obviously had an idea he was preparing to spring on you. Taking long strides through the narrow path left by the many other denizens of the spaceport, he gave you an eager and barely restrained grin. Something almost like childish glee seemed to twinkle in his brilliant blue optics.

"There's a holo-suite lounge in some hole in the wall locale by the bay. I've heard nothing but good things about it, and it's all above board. Want to go on a vacation in a vacation?"

Thinking over your limited knowledge of the virtual reality establishments, you knew more than anything how your beloved bot adored the experience of risk free adventure they offered, finding it to be relaxing due to his day to day life. You were more than happy to let him show you one at long last, and chuckled happily as you leaned against his helm. "I'd love to, Captain."

"Yes! I have got to show you the coaster simulation, it's totally wild!" he said in victory, pumping his arms so suddenly you were nearly cast off his shoulders. Recovering quickly and catching you, he let out an abashed cough as he made sure to resettle your tiny form before proceeding far more carefully. In the moment it took you to realize the lack of leg room would make it rather hard for him to trek it anywhere in good time, Rodimus gestured to a narrow gap between skyscrapers. "We can cut through some alleys to get there faster. I plotted it out on the satellite map before we landed."

Though it didn't seem especially smart, there wasn't anything to suggest the move would be dangerous, as the planet had been cleared entirely as a secure zone. The few whisperings of anti-Cybertronian bias were too small for anyone to be worried, so you nodded your assent to use the shortcut. Careful to stick to the narrow walkways for beings of his size, Rodimus kept you secure with one hand as he hopped an underwhelming barrier to access the alleyway, chatting the whole time about all the possible simulations the two of you could try. He's talking so fast it's actually impossible to keep up as he walks between two superstructures and down the alleyway that feels more like a canyon. As the hubbub of the crowd fades to the gentler din of the machinery keeping the city going, it's easy to forget your surroundings entirely, all to allow the other's excitement to wash over you. You don't even notice how the alleyway has tiny side sections for maintenance and smaller species to traverse safely.

Until you see one pop out right in front of you.

Rodimus stops politely, assuming initially he's just met another traveler that he plans on letting pass so as not to be rude. But the alien doesn't move. Though you can't read their expression, the none too tiny organic immediately sets of your alarm bells, and a hot knot of anxiety twists in your stomach as you tense atop your partner's stiffening shoulders. As awkwardness morphs into tension, the Autobot speaks with an even and cool tone.

"There a problem here?"

An answer came not from the insect like being in front of you, but from another stepping out in the space behind, their clawed hands curled about a weapon of unknowable function.

"Typical tin man, cutting corners and plodding around like it owns the place." they said, rasping voice echoing through the translator in your ear. Before you could even guess what they meant by a phrase that was probably intended to be an insult, more began to slowly emerge from splintering alcoves and alleyways, and in moments the two of you were surrounded. Skillful as Rodimus was in a fight, there had to be enough firepower between them all to make this far from an easy win. As heat crackled instinctively to your palms, the Autobot remained calm.

"Look, if this is your filthy back alley, I'll happily leave you to it. I've got better places to be and far more attractive company to enjoy." he said glibly, making you want to kick him for not being diplomatic. For his sake he needed to be, and as for you, situations like this one had never gone well in the past... Your heart began hammering as the lead alien replied with what was likely a glare.

"Bit too late for that."

Like sharks, they began to close in on the much bigger bot. You wondered how things could have taken a turn so quickly. This was a reputable port on a stable planet, how could it be unsafe? Had the two of you not just been planning a day of fun? These aliens had to have been waiting to be this prepared, and as the next one spoke you started to understand.

"Should have stayed in your own corner of space, tin man. We're not gonna let your kind set up shop here."

"Last I checked, this was a bot friendly planet." Rodimus replied, still unnerved but tense as a rock beneath you. He was getting ready, you knew, but for what was anyone's guess. As you held onto him you prayed the plan was solid, because the heat in your body was starting to grow to levels he might notice, and that couldn't be allowed to continue. Hopefully his need to stall wouldn't last long...

The circling group, that you counted at twenty or more, took the bait. "For now, until the beauracracy gets its priorities straight. In the meantime, we're here to make sure you don't bring your trouble to our home, like your kind always does."

"Plus, can't hardly expect the authorities to prosecute what they don't know about, can you?" another said, now so close Rodimus could have kicked them. The hatred in their eyes was beyond you, and their words made the heat in your gut twist into nausea. "Your kind is easy to clean up afterwards; melt down what you can and sell it all offworld."

Rodimus, one hand still steadying you, tightened his grip possessively. Time felt like it was slowing down as you looked about madly for an exit, swearing that the enemy seemed to double every time you blinked. There had to be over twenty of them now, and the high but narrow space gave your partner little room to work with you in the mix, something he seemed well aware of as he next spoke. "What about the human? They're innocent in all this, and organic. Let them walk away."

"They chose the wrong side." the apparent leader clipped.

Bright blue optics looked to you, and a hushed voice whispered at impossible speed.

"Y/N, when I say now, be ready to tuck and roll and run. No looking back, understand?"

There was no time to say you agreed, let alone to argue.

"Now!" he shouted as a high energy weapon began to hum in preparation, followed by so many others. Before you knew it you were being moved in a wild blur. Rodimus made good on his plan, moving as precisely as he could with your comparatively fragile body to toss you over the heads of the enemy. Using the reflexes you'd honed in his company, you did as you were bid more or less subconsciously, curling up and moving with the momentum so that your landing was less than disastrous.

"Rodimus!" you choked out upon catching your breath, turning to see the group advancing with their weapons glowing hot and ready.

I said run!" he shouted, not looking at you before taking care of the first row of attackers with a wide arcing kick. More seemed to be emerging every second, but the Autobot only looked concerned for you as he swiped away another batch. "Get the others! I can hold them off until-!"

With a screech, the first weapon fired, but there was no energy beam or bullet. Instead, Rodimus was ensnared in a tangled mess of high voltage cords, their arcing metallic webs circling his upper body like a snake. Crackling electricity seared across him in a blinding burst, and he was on his knees in moments, crying out at the agony that left him helpless. In rapid succession several more shots were fired. The Autobot was left to scream on his hands and knees, the electronic pulse weaponry having been specifically designed to cripple Cybertronians in seconds and kill them in minutes.

You knew he wouldn't last long enough for you to get help.

In last ditch desperation, you grabbed the cord on your neck and pulled, snapping it so the microchip in your palm could be held aloft. "Please! I have a debit chip worth thousands! Just take it and leave him alone!"

"Just something else to make this more worth our while." the alien you'd begged to sneered, giving you a kick straight to the gut with a deceptively powerful leg. The wind was knocked from your lungs, and you were left trembling on the ground. Vision spinning, you caught sight of Rodimus barely clinging to consciousness, his flaring optics pleading for you to run. Clawed hands had a hold of your arms before you could attempt to fight back, and the leader gave a casual order as they continued to fire pulse after pulse through the metallic web. "Grab the sympathizer; we'll take care of them after this one's fried."

It was clear that survival hinged on the unthinkable. Heat in your gut became molten as you summoned what you knew was your only hope, the air about you filling with the scent of smoke as you looked up Rodimus one final time as his partner. You'd always hoped it would never come to this, but fate, it seemed, was determined to be unkind.

"I'm sorry..."

The aliens on either side of you yelped and released their hold on your arms as the skin went from hot to searing, their confusion turning to fear as the heat only continued to intensify. Your clothes singed and the air thickened, and while it only took moments, the remaining attackers became aware of the change far too late. Shouts of alarm didn't register amongst the crackling sparks that started dancing up and down your body. It had been very long since you'd used these gifts, but you knew the steps far too well to ever forget.

A jet of flame erupted from your palms with the force of a rocket leaving the earth, blasting back numerous aliens from the sheer power. You heard screams but they hardly dissuaded you, as they'd all more than earned what was coming. The heat began to reach levels high enough to clear the air of any moisture, making those still alive after the first blast cough and struggle to breathe, all the while rendering them incapable of fleeing.

You should have just ended it there; cut the flames and told the survivors to get lost, but you weren't done. It felt far too good for you to stop.

A literal ring of fire encircled the gathered aliens, trapping them all in with you as they tossed aside their white hot weapons and tried to find a way out. Rodimus was immune even to the extreme heat, but dazed enough from his shock not to truly be conscious. You stepped over to him as the fire danced at the command of your fingertips. After the fear of the ambush, the choking heat and crackling flames felt like a breath of fresh air. You were at home in the inferno.

Hearing a scream, you realized rather quickly that payback was still due. Smiling softly, you beckoned the fire to move, controlling it with mere gestures and the simplest of thoughts. It danced like a snake would for a master charmer, coiling about the enemy and suffocating them. You were far too busy indulging yourself to notice how the waves of heat washed over your skin, particularly how the flesh hardened and patterns began to emerge like the scales of an otherworldly being. Similiarly, the sharpening of your teeth and the rise of claws from your fingertips drew no trace of concern. All that mattered was how good it felt to make your attackers pay.

There were more than enough of them for you to take your time, and so you did, keeping them corralled in the fire as you picked them off one by one. Had they expected anything like this when they'd made you a target? Had they prepared for the possibility that not everyone would just lie down and die? Had they even bothered to consider the Autobot wasn't the most dangerous being here?

As one body crumbled to ash, you got your answer in a way that made you smirk; clearly they hadn't.

As you began to run low on targets, it occurred to you that keeping up your wall of fire might draw unnecessary attention. Frowning around canines you realized had developed a lovely point, you decided to finish the fun. Clawed fingertips snapped together to command the flames to converge, and they did so in a heartbeat, jumping upon the survivors like rabid dogs on a meal. You barely registered a scream before ash and cinders began drifting past on a hot breeze. With another smile, you recalled their comment on crimes going unpunished when they were properly cleaned up. Dismissing the fire with a wave of your hand, you thought smugly on how these piles of soot would hardly suggest what had happened here.

Rodimus stirred from his daze, groaning in discomfort and shifting beneath the web of deactivated electric pulsers. Frowning at the sight, you summoned a thin jet of fire from your fingertips and got to work. The metal coils turned to red slag with very little effort, which melted down the heat resistant bot's body like wax before dripping to the ground around him. In no time you had him free, and while the flames actually seemed to perk him up a bit, the Autobot was clearly not in a good way. When he failed to awaken after you said his name your confidence started to dissipate. Heart hammering once more, you dropped to your knees beside his helm, hoping to wake him with some gentle encouragement to get him moving.

It was when you laid your hands on his helm that your thoughts shifted to horror, but not for his sake. The normal human hands you had once possessed were now tipped with wicked claws, and as your eyes trailed upwards you saw that your skin was patterned with scales of an equally inhuman nature. Sharp fangs registered with proper horror in your mouth now that the adrenaline of the moment was gone, and you realized that unlike every single time before, you weren't turning back to normal. You must have gone too far this time... How could you not have, killing dozens of people, as desperate as the situation may have been? You had liked it too, and even now you couldn't bring yourself to regret what you'd done...

"Y/N?" a raspy voice spoke up, startling you with good enough news that you momentarily forgot your panic. Rodimus stirred more effectively, groaning in pain but appearing otherwise stable as he lifted his helm off the ground and looked to you. His expression turned to fearful concern before you could speak. "Are you okay? What did they do to you?"

"I..." You didn't have the words. No doubt you were a horrifying sight, twisted as you were and smoking in your burnt clothes... It was a miracle he recognized you at all.

Rodimus narrowed his optics, perhaps thinking everything he'd seen was the result of processor trauma from his shock. "You burned them... I saw... but you don't have a weapon."

"I am the weapon." you blurted out, baring your fangs without meaning to. At his confusion, you tried to explain, a sinking feeling pulling you down as you did so. There was no way you could be with him like this... Appearance aside, you'd awoken a part of yourself you couldn't trust. Still, he deserved to know. "I never told you... I've always been able to do this, but could never go too far, unless..."

"You saved me." he whispered in awe, weak but insistent as he reached for you. On reflex, you pushed his hand away.

"I killed them. All of them. I finally lost control and now..."

Rodimus perked up a bit, looking desperate when your intent became clear to him. Even after a beating, he could read you well, and your decision to leave for his sake was clear in your face. "They were going to kill us both! You didn't do anything wrong-"

"Look at me!" you shouted back, curling clawed hands into fists as each grabbed at your head. You swore you felt newly erupted horns crowning your brows, and that discovery drew sizzling tears down your cheeks. "I burned them, and I liked it, and now I look like this! I'm a monster, and I'd do it again!"

"Y/N-"

Wiping away the wetness from your eyes, you stood up sharply, knowing he wouldn't accept what was best for him. "You can't be with me like this, Rodimus. I'm not even human..."

"I'm not either!" A gentle but insistent hand looped about your middle, turning you back around to look at him before he nearly collapsed from the effort of the movement. Wide blue optics pled to you as he did the same, baring his spark with every single word. "Please, Y/N, I know this is a lot for you but please... don't leave me... I can't lose you."

"Haven't you already?" you said bitterly, optimism nowhere to be found as you surveyed a clawed hand. Rodimus didn't flinch at the sight.

"You think a new look will scare me away? Plus, I'm fireproof, remember? You can't hurt me." he said with his best attempt at a winning smile in his current state. Losing it in an instant, he hugged you closer, optics betraying the depths of his pain and desperation as he did so. The Captain was holding on to you like a lifeline. "I need you, okay? Please, just give me a chance to work this out with you. I love you, no matter what."

It was the first time he'd told you that, but you knew he meant it. A softer heat, like a pleasant campfire, filled the space around your heart. Holding a digit of his in your hand, you gave a gentle squeeze. "I love you too..."

"So stay with me?" he said softly, pulling you in for something like a hug. Getting down on your knees, you cuddled close to his helm, a few stray tears dripping down onto his armor. Rodimus didn't even flinch as he whispered into your ear. "We'll figure this out. I don't care if this is the new normal, as long as you're with me."

"Okay..." you replied, nodding as you recalled the thoughts of irony you'd had just that morning. How perfect he was for you, a fireproof being so enamored he didn't see what a risk you were to everything... But if he was willing to try? Well, you couldn't deny how much you wanted this to work either... Holding him tight, you replied with the best promise you could give at the moment, but like him you meant it.

"We can try..."

Like this? You can commission me for a story of your own here!

[ssson-of-sparda]

A Dozen Ice Cream Cones (Dante x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Patty wants to know what happened to the girl who offered Dante his very first strawberry sundae. But to know the rest of the story, she must erase the dozen ice cream cones from Dante's tab. (Part 2 of A Tab To Erase) (Part 1)

Tags: Pre DMC3 Dante / Dante is Tony Redgrave / Flirting / Lost Friends to Lovers / Implied Sexual Content / Explicit Language

Author’s note: You wished for Part 2, there it is ;-) If you want to place this part of the story in the DMC timeline, I'd say that it is shortly before DMC3. Dante is roughly eighteen (and so is Reader) and still goes by the name Tony Redgrave. Again, the Dante who is talking to Patty is definitely post DMC Anime. I decided not to give many details about him so that he could be the one of your choice. Can definitely do a part 3 if you want.

MISSION 2

Dante was about to get fleeced. He could feel it in his guts, which had somehow developed this strange ability to knot tightly in his stomach each time he was about to lose. Probably the result of so many years of bad luck in gambling. And yet, Patty’s eyebrows were weirdly furrowed as she was quietly eyeing all of the cards in her hands. She had to have a straight flush. Dante had no doubt about that. So why wasn’t she playing? “You know, Dante. I was thinking …”       “Not again.” The man grumbled, wondering why she was taking her time. But Patty had learned to ignore Dante’s sudden irritations long ago, knowing they were always brief and harmless.       “You didn’t stay friends, right?” Dante arched an eyebrow and stared at the girl in front of him as she was sitting still, big blue eyes fixed upon his face, patiently waiting for the answer to her unexpected question.   “What are you talking about?” A sigh escaped his mouth. He knew what she was talking about. He just wanted to elude the answer. But the little blonde was not one to easily give up. “With the little girl. The one who made you first strawberry sundae. You didn’t stay friends. Why?”                   “What makes you think that?” Using a question to avoid an answer. Yes, could work.             “Well, if you had a friend making you strawberry sundaes for free, then you would not spend an unreasonable amount of money on them. So, I’m guessing she must not be around anymore.” Patty was perceptive. Dante could give her that quality, for sure. Though right now it was more a bother than anything else. “What happened?”       “She moved on with her life.” was the only thing that he felt like answering as he quietly stood up to take a beer in his fridge, certain that this was just the beginning of another long questioning.               “So you never saw her again after that night in the diner?” Patty asked as she watched Dante slouch back in the couch, taking his cards back in his hand to cover whatever expression Patty was trying to spot on his face.       “Yes, I did saw her again.” He finally confessed, eyes on the dog-eared Queen of Hearts he was grazing with his thumbnail.             “Then tell me!” The girl begged, unable to resist the excitement growing in her body any longer. “ Why would I? Don’t you have any stupid soap opera to watch?”       “ The TV’s broken… AGAIN.” She complained but he couldn’t care less. He had no money to afford buying a new one or fixing this one. Plus, there was nothing worth watching on TV so …“Come on. I’ll erase the dozen ice creams cones from your tab if you do.” Dante looked away from his cards with a sudden tiny smirk as he noticed Patty on the edge of her chair, impatiently waiting for the new part of his story to begin. “Now you speak my language, Patty.”         “ You never do something for free! It’s annoying!”       “Are you kidding me? I do a lot of things for free. That’s why I’m so broke and live in this hellhole.” He waved at the place with open arms before taking a gulp of his beer with a grimace. Yuck, it’s hot! And of course it was. He hadn’t paid the bills yet again.           “So we have a deal, then. Now tell me.”

A DOZEN ICE CREAM CONES

                 It was the nineties – perhaps the most awful period for anyone who had even just a small sense for fashion or music - and as the city of Red Grave was still lovingly dancing on ridiculous love ballads on Friday nights, wearing tight crop tops, colourful scrunchies and platform sneakers, Dante – now named Tony Redgrave - was trying to make his place as a young mercenary in the rough areas of the city, hanging in bars serving some drinks stronger than strawberry sundaes (though he would always order one at some point) and in clubs where women would gladly take their clothes off if asked too, mind a few bucks of course (except for Venus. Venus would always flash her breasts for free for her sweet Tony).

“Not sure I want to know that.” “ Oh yes. Forgot the story must be PG-13, sorry. Anyway …”

He was looking for jobs, something that would help him pay for a proper roof over his head and the fancy long red leather coat he had just bought (five hundred bucks but worth every single dime) and luckily for him he knew the perfect man to find him that.

His name was Enzo Ferino. A short and chubby Italian-American broker, probably the best informant in the neighbourhood, one who could smell high-paying jobs for miles around especially those Dante loved to refuse.

“Where was Morrison?” “Can I tell my story please?”

“Come on Tony! You can’t refuse that job. Not another one. Not again.” He almost threw a fist on the counter before he remembered the last time he did so. Two bullets had whizzed the top of his black curly head and he had had thanked his mama for making him so short. “Haven’t you heard the reward? Don’t you see all the zeros on that check, my friend?” Yes, there were four and enough to pay the bail and few rents of the place he wished to rent to create his own agency. But Dante didn’t want that check nor did he want that job.             “If he wants to recover a stupid necklace, he can call the cops for that … or a bailiff. I don’t go after silly poker players. I have better things to do.” He took a sip of his whiskey, the third of the night, not even looking at the two men sitting next to him and begging him to take that damn job with pleading eyes.               “You have nothing better to do!” Enzo shouted, throwing his hands in the hair like a living Italian cliché. “Please Sir. It’s my girlfriend’s necklace. One she offered me on our anniversary. It’s very precious to her.” The man who wished to hire him declared as he started rummaging in the pocket of his designer coat.               “And you bet on it?” Dante scoffed. “Damn. What a perfect boyfriend you are. But that’s still a no.”

The man pressed a piece of paper next to Dante’s drink. A photo, a polaroid, judging by the quality of the paper, carefully placed face down like a poker card, showing that that man was most probably a pro-gambler or at least was used to card games. Another reason not to help. He would probably lose the damn necklace right after recovering it.         And yet, Dante took the picture in his hand. Though he didn’t really know why he did. Certainly the curiosity to know what kind of chick that prick could have in his life or maybe the will to use the picture to taunt him about his taste in women. He imagined a prude church girl, some daddy’s girl probably as rich as him, not very pretty but fancy, wearing pearl earrings and silk headscarves matching her shiny shoes. The type of girl that swaggers in the street and roll her disdainful eyes when they see men like Dante (though they might secretly wished he would rumple their sheets).  

Patty cleared her throat. “What? Every girl loves some good bad boy once in a while... And how do you even know what that means?”

He couldn’t be more wrong. And he couldn’t be more surprised. He would recognize those big (colour) eyes and that sweet smile among thousands, despite the time apart, despite the years that had turned a fearful little boy into a daredevil mercenary and an adorable little girl into a magnificent young girl. He would recognize them always because they were the first that had made in smile when he thought he would never smile again.                 “Her name is Y/N. She’s the sweetest girl in the world. Innocent. Pure.” Dante cringed at the man’s words, finding them rather repulsive and somewhat perverted. Something in the way they were rolling off his tongue.       “Come on, Tony. You can’t say no to a sweet girl.” Enzo’s sentence was met with a glare that made him shiver but when he saw his partner stand up and empty his glass of whiskey, he somewhat relaxed. “You’re pieces of shit. Both of you.”         “Does that mean you take the job?” Dante didn’t bother answer.

                 But he took the job. Not for Enzo. Especially not for his shitty client. And even less for the cash. For her. Just for her. To finally return the favour after so many years. Because he owed her one. Because she was possibly one of the few humans he’s always respected in his ten years wandering the nighty street of Red Grave. And because she didn’t deserve an asshole like the one she dated to lose something apparently so precious to her in a silly game of cards. An easy job for someone like him but one he despised nevertheless. He hated to deal with humans. They were sometimes worse than demons and you can’t fix problems with them by using a sword.

“Don’t tell me you won the necklace back?” “ I did. Fair and square. Well … almost. I ended up using my sword. Turned out the Mafiosi who had Y/N’s necklace were a bunch of demons who had made a few bars in downtown Red Grave their lairs.”

But once Dante had Y/N’s necklace in the palm of his hand he did something only Dante could do. He refused the reward, refused all the zeros on the check and the chance to finally buy that agency he wanted so badly. “The things you do for beautiful women.” Gunsmith Nell Goldstein had said when she had given him back his guns, all polished and fixed, after he had wrecked them on the job again. “They’re your weakness, Tony. Always leading you around by the nose … or something else.” Perhaps, but he never minded.        

And as he watched Y/N approaching the door to her home out of the corner of his eye, a bunch of books under her arms, looking for her keys in her bag, Dante knew he would not regret his weakness for women or his decision to refuse the money.      

She looked as sweet as he remembered, as delicate as in the picture if not more. And just as her shitty boyfriend had said, she indeed seemed rather innocent and pure. Almost fragile. Nothing like the girls he had met before, especially those he had seen undressed at Love Planet or in one of the magazines he kept in his drawers.       “Goodness grac…” She almost dropped her books as she jumped, surprised and somewhat scared, and put her hand over her heart that had certainly missed quite a beat when she noticed this insanely tall stranger on her doorstep.   But her sudden fear disappeared immediately when she recognized the silvery white hair covering the icy blue eyes of the man before her. “Tony?” She arched an eyebrow and he smiled with the same childish joy she had witnessed on his face years ago. And just like that, she was certain it was him.       “Hello, Y/N” He offered his hand and she briefly stared at it, remembering for a small instant the time she held out her tiny hand to him the same way, the night they met. And so she grabbed it, genuinely happy to see him again and yet curious to know how he had found her and why he was back after so many years.       But when she fell something cold and metallic in his hand she got her answer. “My necklace. How?” “Won it back for you.” He simply answered but that was enough for her to understand what happened. “[Boyfriend] lost it on a poker game, didn’t he?” And even though that didn’t really surprised her as she knew how much he loved gambling despite her telling him not to, it disappointed her anyway. “You shouldn’t date boys who have a streak of bad luck in gambling… Except those like me.” She looked up at Dante’s piercing blue eyes, unsettled by his flirtatious humour, thinking he accidentally let that slip but he definitely did not. Those last words, impulsive and yet somewhat well thought out, had rolled off his tongue with a scandalous smoothness and a self-confidence that had rooted her to the spot, speechless, but in a weirdly pleasant way that made her want to slap herself. “Or especially me. Depends if you like trouble.”     With a smug smirk, he stared at her, deep in her eyes, almost … hungrily? She didn’t really know. All that she knew was that never a man had looked at her that way. Certainly not her boyfriend. And who knew such icy eyes could set fire to her cheeks like that? “But, judging by that place and your guy, you seem to enjoy some well-ordered life.”

Not really. Not at all. Her life was boring, plain and dull. Nothing like in the books she read. Nothing like what she had dreamed of. But exactly what her mother had wished for her.         She was an adorable daughter, a top student finishing up high school, ready to leave Red Grave with her well brought up boyfriend to start a life many would envy but that she cared little about.     She wanted adventure. She wanted excitement. Passion. Frivolity. Freedom. And maybe even some danger. She wanted all that and more.           And as she looked at the self-assured man in front of her, she couldn’t help but believe that he had somehow managed to obtain all that. And she wanted to know how. How did that life feel? How could he live such a life? How could she have the same?         And Dante noticed that small fire, that tamed lonely flame burning deep in her eyes that needed just a drop or two of gasoline to rage and shine brightly. Something he could easily provide if she let him, if that’s what she wanted.

“Take care of yourself, Y/N” He nodded her goodbye and as he shifted to walk away, she opened her lips to say. “Would you like a strawberry sundae?” And she cursed herself for this, so damn loud in her head. You have a boyfriend! A voice repeated on and on, feeling the temptation in her heart and the ideas of what some people would call unfaithfulness seeping in her brain. But as she opened the door to her apartment, ready to finally kick the boredom out of her life for something else, for something more, the voice seemed to fade.           Guess the Devil truly finds work for idle hands to do.

[ramblinganthropologist]

Fictober 2021 (3) - “I’ve waited for this”

Fanfiction

Fandom: Mass Effect (Actor AU)

Summary: Macen Virius was supposed to be breaking things off with his costar. Instead, he’s pretty sure he might have just caught feelings. Damn it, it was just supposed to be a sex thing...

---

There was nothing like the end of a long day of filming to make Macen want to go to fucking sleep.

Every muscle in his body ached as he left the set to change out of his costume. Moments before, he had been in the blown out remains of a battlefield. Post would add the effects, but his hands still ached from holding his prop rifle and clicking the useless trigger button. Honestly, if he had been human, he would have expected an imprint there.

He was going to have to ask his costar about that later…

“Where is he anyway?” Macen’s mandibles twitched as he glanced around. Everyone was heading off, but there was no sign of Mass Effect’s leading man. Usually, he stuck around to talk to his costar – then again, he didn’t see the other ‘Commander Shepard’ either. They must have both taken off early…

He envied that about humans. They got out of costume and makeup way too quickly.

In the end, he too was back in his regular clothes. As he walked, he rubbed his right mandible, trying to get the feeling back. Part of playing Garrus meant that he needed fake implants to imply he’d had half his face blown off. With how numb that mandible got, it certainly felt that way. No doubt about it, he was looking forward to the final season where all he would need is scar tissue. At least he’d be able to move better in that.

A beeping drew his attention to his wrist as he left the set. His omnitool was letting him know he had a message from a certain fake redhead. As humans put it, curiosity killed the cat (don’t ask him, he didn’t even know what a cat was) so he opened it.

Alex Jones: Hey, rehearsal at my place tonight?

Alex Jones: I can get takeout from that levo-dextro place again. You liked their noodles.

He had liked their noodles. What he didn’t like was… well, this.

“You’re getting too attached, Virius. This is just supposed to be about sex.” He shook his head, half considering calling things off so he could have the night to himself. Problem was that his stomach had started to growl at the thought of those noodles. Besides, tomorrow’s shoot was supposed to involve a lot of emotional moments – he needed all the feedback he could get.

With any luck, he’d end the night in his own bed without fucking the human. After all… he was a turian of self-restraint and control. He could totally handle this.

…

Yeah, he was just going to keep telling himself that and hope for the best. Damn sexy human…

---

An hour later, Macen found himself standing in front of his costar’s door, frowning as he stared at the metal. As hard as he tried to talk himself into ending things, doubt still gnawed at his stomach.

He should end things. It never ended well when he got too into somebody.

“He should understand… it’s just sex… he’s my costar, and it’s just sex.” Macen shook his head again, frowning as he started to key in the human’s door code. Alex had given it to him a month prior, mostly so if he was going to be late he could get in.

That probably wasn’t a good sign, but he had elected to ignore it.

The door clicked opened, and he stepped in. Much to his surprise, the sound of upbeat music met him in the hallway. Not only that, but someone was singing to it if his translator was anything to go by. The damn thing was working overtime as he sidled closer to the entrance to the living room, holding his breath as he peaked in.

Lucky for him, Alex’s back was to him. The human had cleared a space in his living room in order to have room for what he was doing then. However, Macen was having a problem processing what “that” was. Well, he knew it was dancing – a somewhat odd version of it – but it was just so… old fashioned.

Also, since when did Alex dance?

“Let’s chase the dreaming light, and I’ll truly be myself…”

Dancing wasn’t the only thing on the menu. Macen’s jaw dropped as he realized the soft, sweet voice he had heard in the hallway was coming from Alex himself as he worked through the song with flowing, easy moves. Something about it was so painstakingly familiar, yet he couldn’t put his finger on it as he stood mutely in the hallway, watching the scene in front of him.

He had to wonder… what did it look like from the front?

“There’s a scene I want to show you. You have to wait for it… so let’s make a promise!”

Alex moved into a different position, holding out his hand to an imaginary audience that Macen couldn’t see as he took a step up. Every one of his moves were precise, even though he was doing nothing more than dancing around his apartment in his socks. Clearly, he had been practicing…

But for what?

“There’s a gentle wind wrapping around me… isn’t it warm?”

Macen knew a bridge when he heard one, and he felt himself holding his breath as he watched. Alex was getting closer to his imaginary audience now, probably for whatever was going to come in the final chorus. Maybe it was because he was so focused on the man that he hadn’t noticed his heart had begun to beat faster, but it thudded all the same.

“They’re overflowing, these endless hearts…” The man suddenly turned on his heel, facing the entry way. “Please carry them to tomorrow!”

And then no more singing happened as the precursor to the final chorus played behind him. He was fixed on the turian standing in his living room, looking rather shocked as if he hadn’t given him the door code. Macen wasn’t doing much better, mind you – he still hadn’t managed to shut his damn mouth.

And people thought they were cool. If only the blogs could see them now.

At least Alex shut the music off as he regained sense. He reached for a towel to dry off his apparently sweaty face, cheeks a slight pink from exercise. Maybe it was the sweat that had made him shine in that moment. For all Macen knew, it had caught the overhead light when he spun around like that.

Meanwhile, his heart wasn’t slowing down. Still…

“Uh… I guess my text didn’t make it.” At least his mandibles were starting to work. “I didn’t miss the noodles yet, did I?”

The human put his towel down as he started towards his phone propped up on a stand. “They’ll be here in 15 last I checked.”

The music started playing on his phone as he frowned. “Damn, I knew I spun the wrong way…”

This caused Macen to cock his head to the side. “Were you recording yourself for social media or something?”

Doubtful; this kind of thing definitely wasn’t in the human’s wheelhouse. After all, he was supposed to be playing Commander Shepard. While the man had some oddities, he probably didn’t dance around like that.

…

Then again, who fucking knew. Dude was weird.

Alex was still checking his phone as he spoke. “No, just recording my practice to see where I need to improve for filming next week.”

Surprisingly, he was grinning as he looked up. “I’ve waiteda for this for a long time, so I want to get it right.”

Something about the way he smiled did awful things to Macen’s stomach. However, the statement set his mind whirring. While he wasn’t a complete Reaper War freak like some of his coworkers, he at least knew enough to be sure something like that hadn’t happened. After all, there’d be videos, right?

Definitely videos, no way Joker would’ve let that slip by.

“Ok, you’re going to have to fill me in on this one… since when did Shepard do a little dance?”

Alex chuckled – again, there went his stomach. “2185, to be exact. The Normandy ran into a rogue AI that accidentally found its way into Shepard’s music collection. They needed to distract it, so he wound up putting on a little show. He disabled the cameras beforehand, but he wrote about it in his journal, so we know it happened. And now I get to do it on TV and make all the people who think he was just a military guy hate me. I’m thrilled.”

Clearly – he was sparkling again, and this time it wasn’t from the sweat. Macen felt his heart beat harder again, and he tried to distract himself by looking towards the door. If those noodles could save his ass, he’d marry them.

Besides, he was supposed to be calling things off with the guy.

Alex was still looking through his phone as he spoke. “It’s been such a long time since I’ve done a dance routine for TV, I was worried I forgot how. I’m definitely a little rough, but it’s better than I thought it would be. Good thing the director let me know early so I could practice a bit more.”

Macen started to open his mouth to ask, but then the memory came to the surface. He knew where he had heard the voice before, and honestly he was surprised he had forgotten about it. Back then, he had secretly loved to watch it.

Secretly, of course, because Citadel Idol Heart was really more of a girl’s show. The popular teen drama about idols competing in a Citadel-wide talent competition in hopes of seeing their dreams come to life had run for a few years, and he had seen every episode. More importantly, he had once crushed on the main character, a blonde idol with blue eyes and the sweetest voice he had ever heard. Whenever she took the stage, he had been unable to look away.

Just like he couldn’t look away now…

“You… I forgot you were on CIH.”

It was now Alex’s turn to blink back surprise as he looked up from his phone. “You watched that?”

“Kind of…” His eyes darted. “Your voice hasn’t changed much. I mean it’s gotten older sounding but I’m glad to know it wasn’t autotune or anything…”

Things had officially gotten awkward. There he was, with the crush from his teenage years… and he was fucking the guy without even knowing it. Life was weird, and it was getting worse by the second. If only teenage him could see him now…

The man’s cheeks turned a light pink at the compliment. “Well, it’s not like I’ve gone on T or anything, so no big surprise there…”

He got up, probably to check for the noodles. “I take it you were part of the Melody fan club then. Unless you were an edge lord and went with Black Rose. Her fan club was the absolute worst and insisted we hated each other, but I was the best man at her damn wedding last year…”

The rest of his statement was drowned out by the opening of a door and the ruffling of a paper bag. At last, the noodles had arrived. Unfortunately, Macen realized he didn’t have much of an appetite. His stomach refused to calm, and his heart still pounded as he sat there, processing everything.

At least the application of a warm box to his mandibles helped.

“Macen, your noodles are going to get cold.”

He blinked and realized Alex was nudging him in the face with his food. That shot him back to reality as he took the box and proffered plastic fork that went with it. The human then settled in next to him – not across! – and started to dig into his own box.

Right… food. And they were supposed to be rehearsing. And he was definitely supposed to be breaking up with his costar.

“I had the pin.”

His comment left silence in his wake. Alex had stopped eating and was giving him a rather incredulous look. This caused Macen to duck his head in lieu of eating noodles. After all, it was hard to do so politely when you had a face like his. Really, he should have sworn them off… but they were just so damn good he couldn’t resist.

Damn humans and their noodles, they were out to get him.

“You had the fan club pin?”

Yep – there went his mandibles, flapping in the breeze. “I was a big fan, ok? What can I say, everyone loves an underdog story… and you maybe… looked good in that one outfit. The orange one…”

Melody in the orange outfit had been taped to his bedroom wall until he left for basic. Hell, it might still be there…

“God, you’re such a nerd.”

Alex was chuckling though as he put his fork down. It was a nice sound, though it did horrible things to Macen’s stomach once more. Thoughts of noodles evaporated as he sat there, taking in the sound of the human’s mirth. He really needed to laugh more often… maybe he should work on making that happen.

“Well… I can’t exactly let a fan down, now can I?”

He stood and crossed the room to the open space he had created. The music was soon queued up to where he had last stopped, and Alex took position once more. The smile on his face made Macen’s heart want to stop as he sat there, a noodle still hanging from his mandible.

“I can take off into the dreaming sky… because I’m not alone.” Alex winked as he moved, following the song. “Wherever it is, I feel like I can go across the distant sky…”

Then the music swelled as it led into the final chorus. Macen forgot how to breathe in that moment as he watched his costar dance and sing along to the ancient song. All he could think of was how much better he had gotten since the days of CIH…

And how much he wanted to kiss him.

“It’s not enough to put into words, so I’m putting it into a song I’m wishing will reach you.” Another smile as Alex twirled, then began his final pose as the song began to wind down. “Beating my heart~”

The last pose, with his head cocked to the side and hands clasped together, held as the music faded. Then there was silence in the living room as Macen struggled to remember how to function. Right then, there was nothing there but Alex and the table in front of him that kept him in place.

Shit.

“It probably needs some work, but I think I’ve got the basics considering it’s only been a couple hours.” Alex landed back on the couch, picking his food back up. “What do you think, Macen? Got anything you noticed?”

Yeah… his heart was still beating like crazy.

“Macen?”

The turian shook his head – probably launching the noodle in the process. At least it didn’t hit the man next to him, so he could thank his lucky stars for that. However, it was hard to think then as so many feelings and thoughts crashed together.

He was supposed to be calling it off… that was why he came over. This was just supposed to be a sex thing… but every bone in his carapace was telling him to grab the other man and kiss the daylights out of him. They hadn’t even ever kissed outside of sex or prepping for scenes…

What the hell was wrong with him?

“I uh… I don’t know the song, but maybe hold the last pose a bit longer. They might be able to make your eyes light up a bit more.”

Alex nodded at this. “I’ll make a note. Also, don’t you hate cold noodles? Last time you wouldn’t stop complaining when the delivery guy was late…”

Right then, Macen wasn’t sure what he hated or liked as he shoveled the food into his mouth. He just needed something, anything to keep him away from the thoughts currently blooming in his mind.

He knew this path – he hated it. It never ended well. And long ago he had told himself he was never going to walk down it again if he had any sense in his head. This was nothing more than a rehash on an old teenage crush… he could overpower it.

“We need our energy to practice.” He slurped down the last noodle, glad that none were sticking to his face this time. “Tomorrow’s going to be hell if we’re not ready.”

At least his costar nodded as he worked to finish his dinner. “Tell me about it, I have a damn imprint on my trigger finger from that damn gun…”

Well, at least on the bright side that question got answered. It did nothing to quell the bubbling feelings Macen was trying so desperately to beat down, but at least his curiosity was sated for the moment. Maybe that would get him through filming.

One thing was for sure… he was fucked. No way about it – he was just plain fucked. The universe was laughing at him, and he only had himself to blame. All he could do was hope he could hold back and wait for the feelings to pass.

If they didn’t… see the previous statement for clarification. Fuck… he was supposed to be a turian sharpshooter, not a lovesick puppy. He didn’t sign up for this.

[glassprism]

Hey,I just wondered if you liked the Charles Dance phantom. I find it ironic that people find him the most sympathetic redeemable phantom because I find him the opposite because if I remember the series correctly, he has two loving parents that love and care for him although secretly, was never exploited in a circus or traveling carnival, and never had the lifelong abuse of society that other phantoms have had so that his antics and killing are inexplicable. Am I missing something from the show?

Hmm, I can see where you’re coming from, but at the same time I think you’re also equating having a tragic backstory with being sympathetic? Which... I get that to an extent, especially for the Phantom, where so much of why people feel sorry for him is that he is deprived of a normal life. But I’d also argue that you don’t need to have the saddest, most depressing life ever to be a sympathetic character.

I’d also argue that some of your descriptions of his life are a bit of a stretch. While the Erik of the Yeston and Kopit musical / the Charles Dance miniseries (I’m conflating the two since they’re so similar) does have two parents who love him, his mother (who is clearly the one who accepted him more) died when he was a young child, while his father, Gerard Carriere, seems to have taken, erm... a more hands-off approach. I mean, the guy never even told Erik he was his father until the end of the show, and Erik knowing it all along doesn’t change that fact. This also implies that Gerard, on some level, didn’t quite accept or know what to do with Erik; I think he admits this himself in the story. So while I wouldn’t say Gerard was hateful or abusive, I also can’t say that he wasn’t somewhat neglectful, and coupled with Erik’s mother dying early in his life, it still means that Erik faced some level of parental abandonment. Also, Erik of the Phantom musical / miniseries was never put on display, that is true, but he was still forced to live underground and faced much of the same ostracism from normal human society that many other Eriks face.

And I think this does result in some alterations to Yeston and Kopit’s Erik and his actions. The Erik of the Phantom musical / miniseries has a sad background, but not as tragic as other versions; he therefore kills less than other versions (especially because he has no backstory of being an assassin in Persia). When he does kill, the musical tends to play it as something that is justified, particularly Carlotta’s, and... I do get where you’re coming from with that. Because Erik does murder her (in the musical; he only drives her insane in the miniseries) as well as Buquet, who wasn’t doing much other than intruding on him, and with the latter, it’s even played off as a bit of a joke, or something that just warrants a scolding from Gerard. That can definitely seem weird, because as horrible a person as Carlotta is, did she really deserve to be murdered (and even more so, did Buquet, who was just doing as ordered?). But on the other hand, this is fiction, and in fiction audiences more readily accept having annoying characters killed off.

I’d also argue that the writers themselves don’t place a lot of emphasis on the murders, making it easier to brush it off. What it does place a lot of emphasis on, besides the father-son angle with Gerard, is the relationship with Christine, and the changes made to that is probably the other, biggest reason why fans find Yeston and Kopit’s / the miniseries’ Erik more sympathetic.

Because let’s be real, when it comes to the E/C relationship, the Erik of the Yeston and Kopit version is super duper nice, especially in comparison to the Erik of Leroux or ALW’s Phantom. He does not ever pretend to be an Angel of Music; he comes right up to Christine and just asks her if she wants lessons. When he sees Christine might be in love with Philippe, he does not swear revenge and start dropping light fixtures; he just goes to his lair and mopes a little. He does not kidnap Christine to his lair under false pretenses or to one-up a potential rival; he does it because Carlotta ruined her debut and Christine is obviously distressed. When Christine flees after he unmasked himself, he doesn’t fly into a rage; he just angsts some more (and locks Christine in a cage for a bit in the miniseries, but she escapes so easily and is so willing to go right back to Erik that you wonder how hard he was trying to keep her captive). He’s just do dang nice that I don’t think he really needs a redemption arc. And it doesn’t hurt that he can be quite funny, particularly in the miniseries.

Anyway, hopefully that helps clear things up a little and helps you better understand why many fans think the Erik of the Phantom musical or the Charles Dance miniseries is so sympathetic.

[mc-lukanette]

Elf Preservation (continuation)

(original/first chapter)

[AO3] [FF.NET]

Luka was surprised when he was not only allowed to deliver presents again, but that there was no sort of punishment for the fact that he'd both been found by and interacted with a human. Apparently, Santa just hadn't told anyone, and was even the person to suggest that Luka go with him again next year for Christmas.

He didn't really get it, but didn't complain either. Most people rolled with whatever Santa said without question, and Luka supposed that he somehow managed to be a good enough assistant.

Besides, he had a promise to keep, and it kept ringing in his head since the take-off to go around the world: "If I can make it happen, it’ll happen."

He told Marinette that they'd meet again as long as it was in his power to do so. No matter what her reason was for wanting to see him again - whether genuine interest or mild curiosity - he wanted to see her too. He couldn't explain it, but she was special, and there was an allure to her that had him looking over the side of the sleigh to try and spot her house when they arrived in her city.

He considered what he might do if Santa refused to let him go into the house. Plead? Beg? Explain the promise? Offer not to tell anyone that he secretly feeds cookies to his reindeer if he lets him see Marinette?

As they landed on the familiar house, Luka's mind was still racing with options when he suddenly heard Santa ask, "Why don't you take this one again?"

Luka blinked, needing a moment to register that, then turned with a confused look on his face. "What?"

Santa didn't reply at first, though clearly noticed that Luka had a thousand questions playing in his head that he was resisting asking. Smiling at him, he finally answered, "Let's just say that I owe Marinette a favor and leave it at that, hm?"

Luka wasn't sure how to take that, but knew that Santa wouldn't lie to him. He was also reminded of what Marinette had implied when they first met, referring to how she was "used to magic." He was getting more and more interested in her by the second, hoping that it didn't look too apparent by how quickly he hopped off the sleigh.

"Thank you." It was really all he could say, not wanting to pry when he'd been told not to. Santa merely gave him a nod in return, leaning back to take a breather and relax.

Luka walked to the back of the sleigh, then opened his arms for the sack of presents to jump at him. Once it did and he had it slung securely over his shoulder, he navigated himself off the roof and through the window of the house.

He noticed immediately that Marinette had decorated the room differently the year before. The furniture had been moved and the tree had been put in a different spot. She'd even changed the color of the lights, though it didn't make things feel any less warm because of it.

He paused to take in the view, then headed for the tree to put the presents underneath, not wanting a repeat of last year where he'd delayed getting everything set up and got a non-verbal scolding from a sack of all things.

Taking out the gifts one by one, he began sliding them under the tree and making them look nice resting there. He hummed last year's melody while he worked, more for the happy memories it brought than any sort of need to fill the silence. Given that the Christmas tree's lights were on, he wasn't concerned that Marinette wouldn't be home.

Sure enough, he heard footsteps not too long after, and he may've hurried a little to finish setting all the presents under the tree. He checked them over once more, then stood and turned to greet, "Hey, Marinette."

"Hey!" She smiled, having just walked into the room. She approached with a wave, eyes unfairly bright and happy. "You really came back!" Then, dread washing over her face, she asked, "It wasn't hard, was it? Did you get in trouble?"

He smiled back, his heart warmed by her concern. He also noted idly that she was more dressed up than before, though it made sense given that she knew he might show up, so she sported casual wear instead of pajamas.

Answering her questions accordingly, he replied, "No and no. It was actually easy; Santa let me come back here."

"Wait—" She blinked a few times, processing that. "He let you? Do you mean—"

"He figured it out." Luka shrugged, then grinned sheepishly and turned his head to the side, reminding her of the earrings she'd given him.

Marinette gasped, then pounded her forehead lightly with the heel of her hand, whining, "Oh, Luka, I'm so sorry! I didn't even think about that!"

"I didn't either," he pointed out gently, amused when she sunk down to the floor in misery. It was probably the one time he'd feel taller than her. "But it's okay. He didn't tell anyone and he was the one who suggested that I come back."

She peeked up at him, surprised and wordlessly questioning the decision.

He rubbed the back of his head, simply explaining, "He said he owed you a favor?"

Her eyes lit up with recognition at that. She looked away, tugging at one of her earlobes, and he noticed that she still didn't have any earrings on. He'd originally presumed that she hadn't been wearing any last year due to being in pajamas, but now he could be sure that she either didn't have any or chose not to wear them.

"That—that makes sense," she replied. "I never said he had to pay me back, but—well—I'm glad you're here!"

He nodded in agreement. "I'm glad I am too."

She beamed, then pushed herself up and glanced back at the kitchen. "So, do you want any cookies again? I could do a different kind if you're afraid of it being boring."

"You don't have to make me anything," he gently insisted. "I didn't come back for that."

"I know." Though she said that, her smile widened significantly. "Still, it's a long sleigh ride, isn't it? And it must be hard bringing enough food for one person, much less two, and you need food. I don't want you to starve or even just be hungry, so I want to make you something—ah... well, I guess sweets actually wouldn't be that filling, but—"

He giggled. "Elves actually aren't that crazy about sweets anyway."

Her head snapped up, eyes wide like he'd just said something insane. "What? Really?"

"We don't mind eating sweets every now and then, but almost all the sweets are for Santa." He grinned playfully. "I guess it just became a note we play every time we cook that says we'd have to share with him if it's something sweet."

"Oh." She looked positively fascinated. Had he known that she'd get so enthused over a simple fact about his species, he would've spoken up about it last year. "So, how about something savory then? It doesn't have to be anything big, but..." She looked around, her eyes eventually settling on the TV. She brightened up, asking, "How about a movie?"

"A movie?" He promptly realized how dumb echoing her sounded. "That sounds great. I'd love to."

"Yes!" she exclaimed excitedly. "We could do sandwiches and popcorn! Oo, what would you like best?"

Her positivity was contagious. He couldn't stop himself from smiling as he followed her out into the kitchen, though he nearly bumped into her when she abruptly stopped to turn to him.

"Wait," she muttered, "so—those cookies I made for you last year..."

"Like I said, we do have sweets every now and then," he reminded her, "but I guess I didn't have them that much until a while ago."

She tilted her head, then turned to continue her walk around the kitchen. "What changed your mind?"

He watched as she pulled out a loaf of pre-sliced bread, which he thought was strange - considering that her parents were bakers - until he remembered her 'Safety Hazard' apron. He had to debate whether he really wanted to answer her question, but smiled when he acknowledged mentally that she deserved to hear it.

"...It was when you baked me some, Marinette."

The way her face heated up was both satisfying and left him feeling abnormally happy.

"W-wh—" She cleared her throat, fussing far too much with opening the clear bag covering the bread. "—t-then, was marshmallow even a flavor you thought you'd like?"

"Honestly," he began, reaching a hand up to ruffle his own hair, "it was just the first thing I thought of while I was looking at you... after you asked."

She turned away to stop looking at him, but he didn't have to see her face to know how she felt. Being as quiet as he was, it was rare for him to have such an effect on people.

It was nice, having someone who genuinely enjoyed his company and reacted in such a way when he spoke up.

As Marinette pulled out various ingredients for sandwiches, Luka removed his gloves and joined in to help her. He may've been shorter than her, but he was still tall enough to handle anything on the counter. It was also the least he could do since she was already letting him hang around her house.

If their arms brushed every now and then, they didn't make any mention of it, though he would've caught her blushing again had he looked up.

Given the sliced bread, it only made sense that she opted for bagged popcorn rather than making her own, though he didn't mind and wouldn't have wanted her to go so far out of the way anyway. They conversed on the way back to the couch upon the realization that they hadn't agreed on what to watch, and what started as a joking suggestion from Marinette to watch a movie featuring "his people" became very real very fast when Luka saw her scroll past a few strange-looking characters on the TV screen that clearly were supposed to be elves.

They started with just one, but it soon became a whole marathon, the two going through movie after movie while Luka was critiquing the whole way through about the things they'd gotten wrong. At first, it was just an easy way of telling Marinette more about elves, but as Marinette began to giggle at his more biting critiques, he took to being more dramatic about it. He'd gasp in offense when the movies "insulted" his elf kind, clutch his chest, and pretended to walk out at least once.

Marinette's laughter was easily his favorite part of the whole thing. It was warm and bubbly, and she'd even start giving off critiques of her own if she remembered something he'd said before about elves. By the time the last movie had hit, they were both at the movie's non-existent throat, and it was easily the most fun he'd had all year.

It made it all the more sad when Marinette went to look for another movie and noticed that their time was running low; they didn't have to part yet, but they definitely didn't have time for another movie.

Luka sat back, looking down at the empty box of popcorn and the empty plates that once contained their sandwiches. Glancing up, he said gratefully, "Thanks, Marinette."

She tilted her head at him. "For what?"

He shrugged. "Everything? Being you?" He stared back at the now-blank TV screen. "I'm just glad you're letting me be here and hang out with you."

"Why wouldn't I? We're friends, aren't we?" she asked, though began to blush after a few seconds. "I-I mean, unless that we just me assuming things, in which case—"

"No, we're definitely friends," he insisted, "as long as you want that too."

"Of course!" she replied immediately, the offended tone making him chuckle and reminding him of their Christmas movie roasts. "You're really nice, and funny, and you're so—I don't know—different? From everyone else I've met? Not in a bad way, obviously, just..."

She trailed off, and he imagined that his expression assured her that she didn't need to ramble. His words followed suit, "I feel the same way about you."

Her smile was soft, her eyes almost sparkling at him. They remained there for a moment, just enjoying each other's company and the warm Christmas lighting around them.

Then, Marinette's gaze drifted down over him, then just barely above his face. "...Hey, Luka?"

He went to ask her what was on her mind, but stilled as her hand seemed to - almost unconsciously - reach upwards to hold a strand of his hair. "Marinette?"

Her expression was a mixture of thoughtful and curious. "Do you mind if we do something before you go? It might be a little boring for you."

"I don't mind. What is it?"

"Well..." She smiled hopefully at him. "I'd like to take your measurements."

~ ∘˚˳°✧°˳˚∘ ~

The third year Luka showed up at Marinette's house, she was already waiting for him in the living room, sitting on a chair a few meters away from the tree. His brows rose in surprise, but she just gave him a smile, waving her hand vaguely at the sack over his shoulder as if to say, don't worry, I'll wait.

He returned the smile, a small skip in his step as he made his way to the tree. He noted that she'd clearly been waiting for him for a while, a quarter-full mug of hot chocolate in her hands that definitely wasn't emitting any more steam. The delightful fuzziness in his chest he got every Christmas wasn't due to the holiday itself, and he was very much aware of it.

Kneeling down, he reached into the sack of presents, pulling out the first gift his fingers touched. He was suddenly conscious of his abilities to set down the gifts - considering Marinette was watching - but he knew she wouldn't judge him if it wasn’t perfect.

As he went to place the first gift down, he stilled, seeing that there was already a singular gift under the tree. He briefly wondered if maybe the sack had been messing with him and spit out one of the gifts itself, but then he noticed the sticker.

To Luka, From Marinette

He paused, rereading the words twice before turning to Marinette. She was glancing away, smiling innocently, but he could see the way she tried to hold herself together even with her legs very subtly vibrating in excitement. He turned back to the gift, then debated with himself before setting it off to the side, trying to get Marinette's presents under the tree first.

He'd never be able to focus otherwise. Their conversations from last year were already replaying in his head as he wondered what she could've gotten him, or...

"I'd like to take your measurements."

what she could've made him?

Once he'd finished placing all of her presents in a nice-looking order, he picked up his gift, hesitating at how beautifully Marinette had wrapped it. He tore quickly but carefully - not wanting the clean-up to cause any problems - then opened the box that was inside.

Before he could even ask, her voice confirmed, "I made them for you," and his heart skipped a beat.

Clothes. She'd really designed and made him an entire outfit. The color was different than he was used to wearing - elves usually wore specific colors depending on where they were working - but that didn't make it bad; in fact, he loved her choices. He probably spent a good minute just looking and feeling at the fabric, moving everything around to see every bit of them while trying not to disturb Marinette's expert folding.

"You really like them?"

He looked up at her. It was obvious that she already knew his answer - her smile was far too wide for her to think anything else - but wanted to hear him say it anyway. Knowing that it'd be answer enough for her, he asked eagerly in reply, "Can I try them on?"

She beamed, immediately directing him to the nearest room that he could use to change. He knew from the past times he'd been there that she had a full-body mirror in her bedroom, so he avoided getting too lost in admiring the clothes as he put them on so he could be properly surprised in front of her.

After he was fully dressed, he set his other clothes off to the side and left to join Marinette outside the room. She nearly squealed at the sight of him, then hurried for her bedroom, apparently having the same idea that he did with how she encouraged him to follow. They went into her room together, the full-body mirror blatantly moved so that he could see himself as soon as possible. He approached it, Marinette looking him over while tilting the mirror appropriately.

He had no idea how she'd done it. The clothes were comfortable, both in warmth and in how they fit him, and the combination of blue, white, and black was something that felt strangely right. He knew nothing about fashion, but he knew he looked good and that any person would find it hard to come up with any critique on it.

"This—Marinette, I don't know what to say." He shook his head, realizing that wasn't entirely correct. "I mean, it's amazing, I love it, but I haven't done anything. I wouldn't even know how to accept this."

She giggled, walking over to stand next to him and smile at his reflection. "Wearing it is already a good start."

He nearly pouted at her - he knew that she knew that wasn't what he meant - but settled for smiling back and turned back to the image reflected in the mirror of them standing next to each other. He was already used to the height difference, though now he could actually see himself standing next to her using the mirror. He wasn't dense enough to ignore the slight pang in his chest that he wasn't taller than her like what one might expect from what was "conventional," but...

he also noted that both of them looked really happy despite it, and it made him feel weirdly lucky.

As he cherished the thought, his mind registered a familiar shape off to the side of the mirror. He glanced over, eyes widening at the actual guitar resting against the wall.

Marinette looked at the mirror, noticing his shifted gaze, then followed it to the guitar. "...Oh." She laughed, wandering over and kneeling to point at the signature along the base. "Jagged Stone gave that to me. Apparently it's the something-something anniversary of me working for him - I'm pretty sure he made it up as an excuse - and he insisted that I have it. I told him over and over that I had no idea how to play it, but—" She gestured to the guitar for emphasis, as if it were showcasing Jagged's complete refusal to back down.

Luka could only nod, feeling somewhat embarrassed that he couldn't provide any commentary on the matter. He shifted in place as he stared at the guitar, trying not to be obvious about admiring the intricate design and professional quality of the build.

"Do you play guitar, Luka?" Marinette suddenly questioned.

Okay, maybe he wasn't as subtle as he thought. "Hm?"

"The first Christmas we met," she began, "you said that you didn't have any instruments with you when I asked you to play your tune for me, so I thought that meant that you played a few but just didn't have them on you?"

He was surprised she remembered something so insignificant, but answered anyway, "Yeah, I only make instruments I know how to play." He added with a smile, "Guitar's my specialty though."

"Would you like to play this one then?" she asked with a big grin, clearly trying to suppress any excitement and failing spectacularly.

"Really?" He approached, tilting his head at the fancy guitar. "Would that be okay?"

"Oh, absolutely!" She took care in picking the instrument up - despite her haste - then offered it to him. "Jagged would be so sad if this just sat here and collected dust!" She paused, considering, then corrected, "Plus, even if he didn't, it's mine now since he gave it to me and I'm saying that you can play it."

He chuckled, reaching out to take and settle the guitar into his arms. "Hard to argue with that."

She moved around him to sit on her chaise lounge, staring at him expectantly. It was cute, and he followed suit by sitting down next to her, only turning enough attention to the guitar to make sure it was tuned.

He was confident enough in his abilities that he didn't feel nervous playing in front of her. Music was his element, and she already seemed to like his style when he was simply humming, which was more than enough reason not to worry. Even just having a guitar in his hands brought a certain sense of familiarity and comfort, though it wasn't the same kind of feeling he got with Marinette.

As he tested the strings once more to confirm the sound was correct, he caught sight of the signature again and admitted quietly, "I... actually don't know who Jagged Stone is."

He didn't know why he said it; Marinette had spoken the name so casually as if he should be expected to know it. There was just something about her that made him want to tell her whatever came to mind.

"Wh—really?" she asked. Catching herself, she held her hands up and insisted, "N-not that there's anything wrong with that! I'm just—"

"Surprised," he supplied. "It's alright. Santa makes sure we have stuff to do in our spare time but it's from all over. We all speak English since that's the original Claus language, but we get to learn two or three more depending on where we are in the workshop." He figured it went without saying that one of his was French. Stroking along the guitar, he played a quick melody and added, "Anyway, we only get a few notes from everywhere, and we don't always have time to listen to the whole song. We're kept really busy and—" He hesitated, debating on if it sounded like he was complaining. Deciding he didn’t want to stop short and leave her wondering, he continued, "—there are a lot of elves. It's why I'm glad I don't make things like toys."

"It's a lot to deal with?" she guessed.

"Yeah."

It felt strange to say it out loud; he'd never done so before. It was easy to forget such thoughts when he was with Marinette because he was so far away from the workshop, but that was only for a day (excluding all the timewarping). Even while riding with Santa in the sleigh, he was still reminded that it wasn't forever and he'd eventually have to return.

He didn't hate working there, but getting to make and test out instruments was the only part he liked. There was no such thing as "peace and quiet" when it was Santa's workshop, and almost all the elves were lively and social with each other, chatting while they worked to keep themselves energized. Luka was glad for them, but it meant constantly hearing a bunch of songs that didn't go together. When everyone tried to be close with everyone else, no one was truly close, and Luka preferred a smaller, tighter group of friends; not that he had any as an example though.

His family had always been different, he supposed, but he was just the right amount of different for it to be inconvenient. His mother actually enjoyed all the chaos, always moving and having more energy than probably any other elf in the whole workshop. Juleka, his sister, while not actively engaging with the other elves, enjoyed that she was never the center of attention and could be quiet without anyone caring, as they believed her to be invested in her work and respected that.

He didn't have such luck, and meditating was the only way to gain any sort of temporary silence; the book that taught him how to do it had been in a different language, but it had pictures and he'd figured out the rest eventually. It was just the life of an elf, and he imagined that he'd used to it eventually.

Maybe.

"...Anyway," he said suddenly, flashing Marinette a hopefully-reassuring look. Getting his hands in place to place to play, he added, "Any requests? I don't know that many songs, but if you can play one for me first, I can—"

His voice choked off with a gasp as Marinette threw her arms around him, his body going stiff in surprise. His left hand's grip on the guitar slipped, causing the neck to drop awkwardly against his chelidon. He didn't even notice, too focused on the warmth and gesture that'd caught him entirely off guard.

"M-marinette?"

"Sorry," she whispered. "You... you looked so sad."

Had he? It'd shown on his face? "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

"Don't apologize." She squeezed him in reassurance. "I—I'd just never thought of it like that."

"Like what?"

He heard her breathe like she was about to speak, but then she hesitated. "...Promise not to laugh?"

"I—"

"No, I know you wouldn't. I'm sorry."

She sighed, but her voice was lighter when she spoke again. "...I actually wished I could be an elf when I was younger. Getting gifts on Christmas always made me so happy, and I wanted to be able to give that same happiness to all the other kids my age." She hugged him tighter, the lightness fading into sorrow. "I never thought about how elves must live, trapped on the North Pole with so much of the world being a mystery to them, being non-existent to people who don't believe in them. Santa and Mrs. Claus could go out if they wanted by traveling, but it's not that easy for someone like you, working with other elves because you have to and not being able to leave even if you want to."

Luka couldn't bring himself to react, barely managing to do so much as breathe. He'd never had someone so easily able to feel out his worries like that, and she'd voiced things that he'd always thought about but never said.

Despite being surrounded by people, he was lonely. He didn't want the company of dozens of others that he could barely put care to remember the names of; he wanted a connection.

He wanted Marinette.

That thought in particular struck him harder than anything else had that day, though he knew he'd prodded at the idea in his head for a long time. Even beyond filling a void, he'd fallen hard for her and couldn't deny it even with all of the obvious problems it presented.

He also wished the atmosphere hadn't been so sad so he would've been able to properly enjoy the concept of her actually being an elf and growing up with him, but that wasn't as important at the moment.

Realizing he'd been quiet too long, he managed to get a grip on himself, shifting and finally letting the headstock of the guitar fall onto the chaise lounge so he could turn more easily towards Marinette. He had too many words in his head for her, but managed to settle on a quiet, "Thank you. I'm sorry I brought the mood down."

She stiffened, then pulled away and put her hands on his shoulders. "You don't have to apologize for that; you can't help how you live or what you think about it. Besides, I want you to feel like you can rely on me whether you need it or not."

He smiled fondly at her, hoping his look wasn't too intense. "I definitely feel like that now."

She smiled back. "I'm glad." Her hands lingered on his shoulders until she seemingly noticed that they were still there. She pulled away, blushing in embarrassment and adding hurriedly, "A-and sorry for hugging you out of the blue like that."

He giggled. That was the third time she apologized in the past five minutes, and the second time she'd apologized specifically for hugging him.

"I don't mind at all," he assured. Still riding the emotional high from her hug, he insisted, "You can hug me whenever you want."

She blinked rapidly, raising a hand to her mouth in thought. "R-really?"

He nodded. "Really."

She looked him up and down, as if to check that he really meant it. Just to make sure she understood, he turned further towards her, though it was slightly awkward with the guitar on his lap.

He wasn't expecting her to hug him right away, but his body reacted even while his mind froze. He finally set the guitar aside, leaving him free to turn towards Marinette completely and hug her back. They took a few seconds to fully adjust, but it was total and complete comfort the whole way through. Part of him almost thought it was for the best that he wasn't with her for the whole year; he'd never get anything done otherwise.

Then, Marinette suddenly gasped, breaking the hug with an, "Ah, I know!"

Luka watched as she got off the chaise lounge and hurried over to her table, a small set of drawers resting on it. She searched it from top to bottom, then checked the middle drawer again and brightened, seeming to find whatever she was looking for. She also picked up a sanitary wipe and scrubbed at something that was attached to it, though she was turned too far away for him to see clearly. When she finally did walk back to him, he could only see a hint of white peeking out from her closed fingers and that the object seemed to be rectangular.

"Here," she said, holding it out and opening her fingers for him to see. "It's an MP3 player. I know it won't block out everything, but it's full of songs, and there are a lot of Jagged Stone ones in here already."

He was familiar enough with the concept of an MP3 player; it wasn't where he worked, but there were more tech-savvy elves who made them. He just couldn't believe that she—

"Oh, and don't worry!" she told him with a wave of her free hand. "I was planning on getting a new one anyway, so you'd be doing me a favor! Besides, I figured you probably couldn't take those clothes, but an MP3 player is more subtle, so you'll still have something of mine to keep with you!"

He simply sat there, staring at her and probably looking silly doing so.

She seemed to realize something, pulling back and hiding the device in her hand again. "U-um, gosh, that makes me sound really selfish, doesn't it? Like I'm only doing it so you'll remember me more, or like I'm only giving it to you because it's used? I swear I'm not, it's just—"

He stood up, walking over and placing his hands over hers. "Only you would worry about sounding 'selfish' when you're giving me a gift." He laughed, positive that it was too warm not to be noticeable. "I'll take it. I'll carry it with me wherever I go."

She beamed, though acknowledged a moment later, "Oops, that's right! You'll need both chargers; one for the MP3 player and one for the wireless earbuds. Um, give me a moment." She hesitantly pulled back from his grip on her hands, then gestured at the guitar as she assured, "I swear I still want to hear you play if you don't mind—um—setting up again?"

He smiled to assure her that he didn't, already walking back to the chaise lounge to sit down and get the guitar back in his lap. He could only hope that his playing didn't come out too much like a love song, or at least that Marinette wouldn't notice if it did.

She was too much; sweet, thoughtful, and extremely adorable. He loathed the very concept of time itself, wishing he could stay in the moment with her forever. He didn't care whether she returned his feelings or not; they were both smiling and happy, and he wanted it to stay that way. She'd done so much for him, giving him gift after gift, and he—

Luka paused, no longer paying as much attention as Marinette pulled out a small drawstring bag and began slipping the objects inside. He realized just how much she'd done for him, or more specifically, how much he hadn't done for her. He didn't doubt that she enjoyed having him around - they wouldn't be here if she didn't - but...

“They’re Santa’s gifts for you, not mine.”

His brows furrowed with concern at the memory. Marinette had given him multiple gifts and he hadn't done anything in return. They were supposed to be friends, yet he'd missed two of her birthdays without making up for it, never even giving her a Christmas present that wasn't from someone else. Playing her music was a start - he'd already hummed her a melody the first time they met too - but it wasn't enough and couldn't make up for what she'd already given him.

Already musing over the matter, he decided that he'd definitely get her something next time. He didn't know what, but it'd be something meaningful and full of thought.

She deserved that and so much more, but he'd settle on the gift for now.

~ ∘˚˳°✧°˳˚∘ ~

For their fourth time meeting up, Marinette greeted Luka with a full-on hug that he eagerly returned. Despite the chill from the window behind him, it was too warm in her arms to care; she was even wearing extra layers than usual.

When he pulled away, he noticed a smile on her face that he immediately recognized. Grinning, he noted, "You look like you have an idea."

She somehow smiled even wider, replying, "I left your clothes where you changed last time. Get changed and meet me in my room?"

Her voice shook slightly at the last sentence, a mixture of anticipation and nerves. Whatever she was planning, he figured it must be different actually telling him about it, regardless of how eager she was in planning it.

He smiled back, hoping it was enough to assure her that it'd be okay no matter what. "I'll see you there."

She hurried to her bedroom after that, Luka having to force himself not to rush putting her gifts under the tree. Her excitement was too contagious and he didn't want his work to come out sloppy because of it. Still, he ran to change the second he was done, cherishing the feeling of the clothes made by Marinette's hand for him and him alone.

Needless to say, he missed it over the entire year, though didn't miss how the outfit was noticeably warmer than he'd remembered, as if it'd been just taken out of a dryer before he got there.

Once he'd tucked away the little gift box he'd brought into the deep pocket of his outfit, he left the room to meet Marinette in hers. He saw her sitting on her chaise lounge, some type of clothing held tightly in her hands as she practically bounced in place.

She stood up as they made eye contact. "Hey," she greeted.

He was very curious now. "Hey."

She walked over to stand across from the mirror, holding up the fabric while looking at him expectantly. He approached, getting in front of her and watching her reflection to see what she was doing. The fabric in her hands matched colors with his outfit, and his only guess as to what that meant was confirmed as she slipped it onto his head; it was yet another gift for him.

Regardless, she had to be excited over something specific about it, so he let her put it on him without a word. He noted that it was a beanie, loose but comfortable, Marinette leaning to his side and hunching over to get a closer look at it, struggling a bit at first due to wearing gloves.

Though he was briefly distracted by the way her tongue stuck out in her focus, he felt and saw the fabric slipping partially over his ears. "Marinette?"

"That's not uncomfortable, is it?" she asked, voice filled with hope.

He shook his head, then turned his head to the side so he could see the effect through the mirror; the pointed part of his ears was completely covered, making him look as if he were just a short human.

"You can go out with me now," she said softly.

Luka whipped his head back to look at her, eyes wide. She blushed in realization, then flailed her arms in reassurance.

"Outside! You can go outside with me!" she corrected. "See, it was just—um—"

She took a moment to breathe and he let her, his heart still pounding too hard from what he'd thought she'd meant.

Now calmed, she explained, "I... I couldn't stop thinking about what happened last time we talked. I know I can't magically fix everything—" There was a brief shift in her expression that made him feel like there was something deeper to what she'd said. "—but I wanted to give you the chance."

"The chance?" he echoed questioningly.

"Yeah." She smiled sheepishly. "To get out; to be somewhere that's not here or the North Pole. It's late, the entirety of Paris is basically asleep, and even if someone saw you, the elf part of your ears are covered. You don't have to if you'd rather just stay inside, but... I thought that—maybe—just knowing you had the option is nice."

She was making it impossible for him not to fall harder for her, and he really liked it. He couldn't imagine what luck he must have, or maybe it was all of his bad luck finally leaving him instead. He didn't really care; he was happy and she looked happy to be there with him.

"That sounds incredible," he admitted. "Could you lead me around? Can we go right now?"

"Yes!" She paused, then added quickly, "Um—to both of those."

He chuckled, but realized belatedly, "Oh, I should probably ask Santa—"

"No!" she protested. She pouted, insisting, "You want this, don't you? Consider it your Christmas present."

"Elves don't get Christmas presents. We get birthday presents, but—"

"Details." She waved dismissively. "Anyway, if Santa wants to go on about owing me a favor, then fine, this is part of the favor."

Brimming with twice as much confidence as before, likely since he'd answered positively to going with her, she strolled up, pulling a set of gloves out of her pocket and handing them to him. He was smiling too much at her energy to argue, slipping on the gloves and wondering if she'd made them for him as well.

Scratch that, he was sure she had.

The moment he had both hands gloved and they were ready to go, she took one of his hands in hers, gently tugging him along to lead him to the front door. He happily let her lead him, feeling almost childish for how excited he was at the prospect of just going outside, but...

It was Marinette. He knew she wouldn't judge, so he let himself smile.

They didn't let go of each other's hands even after they were out the door.

—————

It took Luka a full minute or so to fully take in the sights while they walked. He'd only ever seen Paris and its Christmas scenery from up in the sleigh or from a rooftop, and while both views were nice, it was something completely different to be actually down on the ground, seeing it from the point of a normal person. All the Christmas lights were on, contrasting the dark sky, and decorations were hung just about everywhere they could be placed. Mrs. Claus changed decorations at the North Pole every month, but it was different seeing a whole city decorated.

He didn't realize how long he was staring at everything until he saw Marinette staring fondly at him in his peripheral vision. She seemed embarrassed to be caught, blushing and turning her head away from him.

"I-it's a nice night," she commented weakly.

He chuckled at the attempt of distracting him. "Yeah." He glanced down their hands, still linked together. "It is."

Looking at anything except him, the blush still on her cheeks, she observed thoughtfully, "There really aren't any people around tonight." She dared a glance at him, a slight smirk on her face. "Maybe you don't need that beanie after all?"

She pretended to reach for it with her free hand. Luka ducked out of the way in dramatic fashion, placing his free hand protectively on the beanie to keep it on his head. She laughed, dazzling him once again with the sound.

He continued walking with her, feeling the beanie a moment longer to make sure he hadn't accidentally shifted it, then followed up on what she'd said. "You were right about Paris being asleep. It's like the whole city is, except for you." He raised a brow at her, curious but also teasing, "Are you nocturnal, Marinette?"

She pursed her lips in thought, eyes drifting up to look at the night sky. The former shyness she showed slowly turned into a bout of playfulness. "Not really. At least—I didn't use to be. I wasn't a morning person, but I wasn't a night owl either; the only time I stayed up late before was by accident, like if I got lost working on something or got really inspired."

He tilted his head at her, now even more curious. "What changed?"

A soft hum sounded at the question, Marinette raising her free hand to rub her chin in a gesture that was clearly her pretending to think. He squinted, half-suspicious, then leaned forward so she was in his peripheral view.

She peeked down at him, then turned her head fully towards him, answering, "...It was when you visited me for the first time."

He straightened in surprise, his hand accidentally slipping from hers as he earned another laugh out of her. The words not only struck him, but felt weirdly familiar in a way that took him a few seconds to realize: she was echoing his words from when he'd told her that he didn't have many sweets until he had her cookies.

He wasn't sure what his face looked like - though it felt plenty warm at the thought that they'd done similar things while he was crushing on her - but she must've enjoyed it with the way her smile widened.

"You're blushing," she teased, as if she had a right to do so despite earlier.

"So what?" he challenged shamelessly, not bothering to deny it.

She nudged his arm with hers, her hand slipping back into his slowly enough so that he could pull away if he wanted to. He wasn't so daring as to consider it romantic on her part, but knowing that she was that comfortable around him was heartwarming enough for him.

"You're so refreshing, you know?" she asked, leaning over slightly to meet his gaze better. They were about to cross the street when she looked off to the side and gently pulled him to a stop, pointing down the sidewalk. "Hey, can we go this way instead?"

He glanced down the way, half-suspecting that she had some sort of plan. "Sure, I trust you." He waited until they'd turned and headed down the path she'd suggested to continue their conversation. "So... refreshing, huh? No, I didn't know."

"Because you're different from the other elves so they've never said anything?" She stretched the words out dryly. "Classic case of jealousy."

"You're spoiling me, Marinette," he accused fondly.

"Good. Feel spoiled." She squeezed his hand for emphasis. "It's your Christmas present."

He dug his free hand into his pocket at the mention of Christmas presents, pressing the gloved tips of his fingers and thumb into the corners of the box inside. "And the gloves and beanie weren't?"

"Your second Christmas present then," she corrected. "I count clothes as one full gift." Leaning over, she added with a hint of concern, "By the way, the MP3 player I gave you still works and everything, right?"

"Yeah, it's great," he answered immediately, jumping at the chance to compliment her back. "You have amazing taste."

"I know~"

He had to convince himself that he was just imagining that she gave him a once over when she said that.

They walked a little longer, Marinette's gaze occasionally flicking up to the buildings they were passing. He kept feeling tempted to look, but forced himself not to in case it would ruin whatever she was thinking about.

When she glanced up once last time, she brightened and finally came to a stop, tilting her head at the building behind him. "Have you ever seen a music shop before?"

"Hm?" He caught onto what she was getting at and turned, needing to take a step back to properly look over the building next to him. He knew what a music shop was - even if he didn't, the words said more than enough - but he'd only ever been able to glimpse the symbols in the shop titles if he leaned off the sleigh and squinted.

Marinette released his hand, walking over and leaning against the glass. "What do you think? Selling CD, instruments, and other music-y things? Would you want a place like this, if you could?" He blanked, and she grew sheepish in response, adding, "S-sorry, is it weird? I thought maybe it'd be nice to think about, but if it just makes things more sad—"

"No, I mean—it isn't weird, or sad," he assured, just happy to be thought of. Since the opportunity to think had presented itself, he took a few more steps back, careful of the sidewalk's edge as he did so. He let his mind wander as he took in the shop, trying to piece it all together even with its lights off and figuring that a little fantasizing wouldn't hurt.

After a moment of thought, he explained, "I'd still want to make instruments at least. I don't know if it'd be everything I do, but... I'm good at it. I enjoy it." He shrugged. "I've never really gotten the chance to try anything else."

She nodded in understanding, and it was hard not to include her in his little fantasy when she was posed in front of the shop like she wanted to be. It was almost cruel, asking him to dream and then standing there like the absolute beauty she was.

He took a few more minutes to stare at the building, admiring the way the owner - or whoever had decorated - had hung the lights like staff lines. Candy canes and wreaths were a poor substitute for notes, but he nevertheless appreciated the effort.

Once he was satisfied, he turned his attention back to Marinette and considered how to approach their walk again. He debated on whether it'd be appropriate to take her hand again when he remembered that she'd happily slid her hand back into his earlier. Given that, he had no problem doing the same, offering his hand out and smiling when she graciously took it.

"I don't have a lot of experience with music myself," she admitted as they continued walking. "I just know a lot of people who are into music." She paused, then glanced at him curiously. "Do you play the drums?"

"A little." It wasn't one of his favorites, but he could play it decently enough if he was in the mood.

"Well, a friend of mine plays the drums. He always wanted to be in a band, but couldn't find all the members he needed for it." She raised her free hand above her head. "Big guy, but kind of that looks can be deceiving type; he's a total softie. I bet he'd like you."

Luka was half-tempted to imply that she was trying to set him up with someone, but settled for joking, "If he doesn't accidentally step on me first."

Marinette gasped in offense, then pouted and pushed against him just enough to make him stumble. "You are not that short!"

He laughed, quickly regaining his balance and giving a one-armed shrug. "To him, I'd probably seem like it."

"Still." She huffed. "You're not allowed to joke about that. I like your height."

That caught him off-guard, and he stumbled without Marinette giving him any sort of push. She was already holding his hand, so she helped steady him.

"Luka?" she called with concern.

He looked up at her, blurting out immediately, "You mean it?"

She blushed at his directness. "Y-yes? Why, did you not expect me to?"

"It's not like that. I know you enough by now, but—" He frowned, eyes darting around as he struggled to find a way to explain how he felt.

She smiled sympathetically, gently tugging on his hand to bring him back to reality. He let her, and they continued walking down the path.

"Since I'm a fashion designer, I deal with models all the time," she began, "because they're always the one who have to wear the clothes I make. They're basically the spitting image of perfection: tall, hair that never tangles, camera-ready smile, the works. It's not like they're all bad, but I know they're not all angels either. I'm polite enough to all of them since it's my job, but I still think things that I just never say out loud." She glanced up at the sky, seeming to reminisce. "My parents always raised me not to judge people based on appearance or where they came from, and to judge them based on how they act instead. I've always believed in and followed that." She laughed, adding, "I mean, that's kind of standard, isn't it? It's one of those things that just sounds right."

He looked at nothing else but her as she talked, anticipation building in his chest while he wondered what she was leading up to.

She paused for a minute, rubbing her face with her free hand while she gathered her words. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter but no less genuine.

"I... guess I cheat in a way," she admitted. "Because I do judge people on appearances, but only the appearance I've built up in my head after I really got to really know them. There are some really stuck-up models that I can't stand, and I think they're some of the ugliest people in the world, but then there are friends I have who I've heard people snidely whisper about behind their backs, and then I don't get it because I look at my friends and think they should be the ones modeling my clothes instead."

His gaze briefly flickered down to the clothes he was wearing, then up to the scenery around them. He didn't know exactly where they were, but they'd apparently left all of the buildings behind at some point, now standing near the center of a large area with small Christmas trees all around it. The lights were all gentle shades of white and yellow, strung around everywhere to the point where it was almost too bright for him to handle. Still, it brought a sense of calm to the atmosphere, with the bonus effect of making Marinette almost seem to glow.

She brought them to a stop, her hand releasing his and then raising up to rest on the top of his head. He looked up at her, noting how she wasn't condescending to him, but rather admiring him.

"Maybe it's a visual thing for me, because I see patterns and design wherever I go," she supposed, "but no matter what it is, it doesn't make it any less true." Her gaze turned soft, smile widening. "I meant what I said during movie night, Luka. I think you're really unique, and only in all of the best ways. I guess it's a little weird to say that I like your height, but... it's a part of you, so I like it. Too many people carry the traits or posture or designs of other people because they're not comfortable with themselves, but you are. You're 100% Luka and it's obvious in everything you do. You carry everything about yourself like it's really yours. I love that." Apparently, she couldn't make eye contact anymore and averted his gaze, dropping her hand from his head but remained smiling. "P-plus, your size is perfect for hugging, or maybe that's just me?"

"...It's... it's not," Luka replied, his voice was perhaps too quiet for her to make out; judging from how she blushed though, she must've heard it or at least felt it in his reaction.

She was too much, and his heart was doing flips in his chest. It wasn't like being around the other elves where they were playing a bunch of songs that didn't go together; with Marinette, it was only one song, and it was loud without being piercing, blocking out everything else so all he could hear was her. It occurred to him belatedly how they could've not met so easily had he just not delivered presents to her house, or left before she'd seen him, and the thought was painful. Maybe it was the high-intensity emotions that always came with Christmas speeding things up, or maybe it was just her being as amazing as she was, or maybe it was a combination of both.

It didn't matter to him either way. He was in love with her, and he was certain of it. Factor that in with the lighting and mood, and he knew the moment was perfect.

He dug his hand back into the pocket, the box still comfortably waiting there. Gripping it gently, he looked up and called out, "Marinette?"

She tilted her head at him, then glanced at his hand in his pocket, curiosity joining with the fondness in her expression. He pulled the present from his pocket and held it out to her, opening his hand fully to let it rest in his palm.

She stiffened in surprise, blinking a few times before pointing at the little box. "For me?"

He nodded, smiling because of course it was for her; not because she was the only one there, but because the gift was specifically designed with her in mind.

Her hand raised, hesitated, then slowly came down to rest on the box. Luka brought his hand up and set it down over hers, briefly making eye contact as he insisted gently, "I couldn't ask you why without ruining the surprise, so just know that you don't have to wear them if you can't, or even if you just don't want to, okay?"

Her brows arched up in surprise, but she nodded, now seeming even more curious than before. He let his hand drop back to his side so she could properly take the box, and she turned it around a few times to really take in the gift. She even smiled at him, as if to thank him preemptively for the present.

He found himself holding his breath, trying not to hope or set any expectations and reminding himself that she might not like it.

Then, the lid came off, and she immediately dropped it as she saw the contents of the box. Luka hurried and caught the lid before it hit the ground, his eyes darting up to search her expression, noting the wide eyes and parted lips.

Inside the box was a pair of rose gold earrings, shaped and with the pink flower he'd occasionally seen in the clothes she wore painted right in the center. Only able to stand there and wait for her to say something, he took the time to explain, "That flower always seemed special to you, so I... wanted to get you a different way of wearing it." He gestured to it, grinning sheepishly at her. "I know it might not be perfect; I had to draw it when I got home and then pass it to one of the jewelers to make. We're allowed to ask other elves for specific gifts and it's considered impolite for them to ask questions, so they just got right to work." He turned his hand up to look at his gloved palm, chuckling as he added, "I felt bad making them do all the work when you always put your whole heart into making me gifts, so I tried to help where I could even if I wasn't great at it."

She gasped, finally tearing her gaze away from the gift to look at him. "Y-you did?" she asked breathlessly. "You weren't hurt, were you?"

"A little, but—" He stopped when she grabbed the edge of his glove with her free hand, pulling it off and putting it in her pocket so she could inspect his hand and fingertips; she’d even removed her glove to be as precise as possible. He smiled like a fool, continuing, "I'm alright now. It healed up pretty quickly, and I was just happy that I could do a little bit of the work."

Despite him saying that he was okay, she didn't release his hand. Her eyes were misty, her hand turning his palm back down so she could grab his hand by its fingers. She took a step towards him, closing a distance that was already lovingly close, then leaned forward and brought his hand so close to her face that she could've kissed it if she made the effort to.

She exhaled, and he blushed at her warm breath against his fingers. After a few seconds of relaxed silence, she told him, "I ended up having to give up my old earrings. There... wasn't as much use for them anymore." She shut her eyes, clearly overwhelmed. "But I couldn't just replace them; they had too many memories to replace with any old earrings. My friends offered to buy me new ones a long time ago since it seemed like a shame to not have earrings while my ears were still pierced, but I always rejected them."

She stared at him meaningfully. He swallowed.

"Thank you, Luka," she whispered. "I-I love them. They're perfect. Of course I'll wear them."

His heart leaped in his chest. "Really?"

She nodded eagerly. Though, despite saying that, neither of them moved from their positions, Marinette still holding his hand in hers and him never pulling away from it. They were in a trance of sorts, lost in each other's gaze and the intensity of the moment.

Then, Marinette dropped his hand, though only to take the one that still held the lid of the box. She guided it to her other hand, Luka sliding the lid back on to keep the earrings protected.

Neither of them knew who moved first. Someone must've had to, or maybe it was both of them, but the result was that they were suddenly kissing each other, with Luka raised up on his tip toes and Marinette leaned down to meet him halfway. She had the present clutched delicately against her chest, her other arm snaking around his waist while he had his hands on her shoulders.

He never, even in his wildest dreams, imagined being able to kiss her, yet they were there and the lingering taste of hot chocolate and marshmallows from her lips confirmed that it was real. As close as they were and for as long as it was, he realized that she had a strong scent, like she'd made sure to shower, dry, and dress for the cold weather just before he'd gotten there.

It only made him kiss her more, and she responded just as fervently. It was as if they'd both wanted it for the longest time and didn't think they'd get it, now taking advantage of the opportunity as much as possible.

Luka shuddered as he felt Marinette's hand move slowly up his back. He responded eagerly, slipping his hands past her shoulders so he could wrap his arms around her neck. She hummed contentedly, her hand leaving his back so she could slip her fingers underneath his beanie, her nails briefly tracing along the outside of his ear. He whined into the kiss, though certainly not protesting, then relaxed as her fingers went further to run themselves through his hair.

He was cherishing the feeling, far too happy to care about anything else, when the kiss suddenly broke with a soft click, followed by Marinette gasping.

"A-ah, I... I'm sorry!"

He opened his eyes, blinking dazedly at her. He worried briefly that she was apologizing for kissing him, but then he felt the beanie being pulled back over one of his ears; he could only guess it'd shifted when her hand drew further back into his hair. His head and heart were pounding from the thrill of the kiss, and he noticed that Marinette's cheeks were flushed red even as she looked around to make sure there hadn't been anyone around to see him.

"M...marinette," he managed, still a little out of breath.

She met his gaze, her blush reddening further. She brought her free hand to her face, her lips pressed together in contemplation before turning into a nervous yet silly smile. "I-I guess... we should go home and talk?"

He could only nod. Their conversations had already been personal, but it only made sense to talk about that back at her house, especially because he was still waiting for his brain to start working again.

Marinette turned away, paused, then looked back at him and shyly extended her hand out, her other hand still holding his gift to her chest. He reached out, paused, then switched his gloves around and took the hand offered to him with his ungloved one so they could start the walk back.

Naturally, they held hands the whole way.

—————

Luka sat back on the couch, taking a deep breath as he waited for Marinette to finish making hot chocolate. He'd offered to help, but she'd insisted that he sit and relax for a while.

"B-besides, your smile is really distracting."

He grinned to himself, reaching up and removing the beanie from his head so he could admire it. They'd ditched their gloves and shoes earlier for the sake of comfort, so he could properly feel along the fabric and appreciate Marinette's talent. He knew they had a serious talk coming up, but he couldn't help feeling as calm and content as he did, even sighing in delight at the memory of their kiss.

He looked over as he heard footsteps and saw Marinette emerge from the kitchen, two cups of hot chocolate in her hands. As she headed towards him, he noticed a shine on her ear caused by caught light from the Christmas tree, his breath briefly catching as he realized what it meant.

She was really wearing the earrings.

She sat down on the couch slowly so as to not spill the drinks, then offered him one. He gratefully took it with one hand and set the beanie onto the table with the other, positively beaming at the sight of her earrings. His big smile must've made her grow sheepish, what with the way she averted her gaze, so he cupped both hands around his cup to steady himself with the intense heat.

It didn't take long for Marinette to speak, "So, what do we do now? I really like you, Luka, but... I mean..." She looked over at him, more easily maintaining eye contact this time. "Have you ever heard of a relationship between a human and an elf?"

He racked his brain, trying to think of anything even close to that, but came up empty. "No. Maybe it happened a long time ago, but I guess elves don't interact with humans enough. I just got lucky because I was helping Santa out." He stared into the hot chocolate, watching the marshmallows idly float around. "And I can't - I wouldn't - ask you to give up your life for me."

"I wouldn't ask you to give up yours either!" she countered. "I know you don't have it as nice, but it's still uprooting your entire life. You'd still have to learn how to live here and constantly hide your ears."

"I wouldn't mind doing any of that," he argued. When she stared at him in surprise, he added, "But I wouldn't want you to have to deal with that."

"What?" She tilted her head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You having to teach me everything," he explained, "and supporting me until I'd figure out how to live like a human would. We'd have to think up a fake story for how we met if anyone asks, and I know you don't care about my height, but—"

"You've thought about this a lot," she said, though fondly rather than accusingly.

He shrugged, taking a larger sip of his drink and swallowing one of the marshmallows in the process. "It was the only thing I could think about on the way back."

It was a half-truth; he'd been wondering about it for a while, even before they'd kissed. There was a part of him that'd fantasized about staying with her, even if it was strictly friendly on her end, and the requirements were similar regardless.

Marinette giggled. "You're too sweet." Despite her happy tone, she was frowning and staring off at the wall not even a minute later. "What about rules?"

"Rules?" he echoed.

"Of the North Pole. Are there... rules to elves deciding they want to leave?"

"I—" He paused to think. "...probably not, but only because we can't really leave in the first place."

"Because it's the North Pole," she supplied.

"Yeah."

Troubled, Marinette looked down at her cup, slowly moving it in a circle to watch the liquid swirl around. She took a thoughtful sip, then sighed, admitting softly, "I know you were worried, but... I wouldn't have minded dealing with all that."

"Huh? You—" He cut himself off, remembering what he'd said earlier about not wanting her to deal with all the problems that came with staying with her. He still didn't want to trouble her, but it made him happy knowing that she'd accept him even with all the troubles that came with it. "...Thank you." Then, recalling that he too had something he hadn't properly responded to, he told her fondly, "I really like you too, Marinette."

He knew that she already knew that, but he could tell that the words filled her with emotions regardless. She gripped her pants with her free hand, taking a shaky breath, then seemed to consider finishing off her hot chocolate before simply setting it down on the table.

"I guess we're both bad at being selfish," she admitted.

He could only nod. At the very least, he couldn't stay now without having said good-bye to his limited family. He tried to imagine explaining the situation to them, but his sister would probably call him a fool for bothering coming back in the first place and not prioritizing his happiness, whereas his mother would roll her eyes and chide him for not stealing a reindeer to make it back to Marinette (how would it make it back without him anyway?).

It was his fourth year knowing Marinette, but their meetings were annual and he couldn't predict what could happen in her future. It may’ve not be against the rules for him to stay, but more because it hadn't been something anyone had really thought of; not technically against the rules, but not allowed either.

He eventually settled on saying, "I wish I could stay," knowing that said enough without saying much at all. He set his hot chocolate down beside hers, staring at the two cups before looking over at Marinette. "I can't ask you to..." He stopped short. "Marinette, if you find someone else—"

A flash of hurt flickered across her expression. "Luka."

He winced, but she took his arm before he could respond, pulling and guiding him onto her lap. She took his face in her hands, then brought him in for a quick kiss.

The hot chocolate tasted so much better from her lips.

She held the kiss for a few fleeting seconds before breaking away, promptly pouting at him. "I could say the same thing to you."

He felt the same flash of hurt that she had, immediately regretting what he'd blurted out. "I'm sorry."

"No, I know you just..." She stroked his face with a thumb, smiling sadly. "I know you care. That's what I love about you. I get that you don't want me waiting on a yearly meeting for my—" She blushed, dropping her gaze. "—boyfriend."

He broke out of the sad mood enough to blush as well.

Marinette shook her head, quickly getting back on track. "But I want you, okay? I'll wait, and maybe we'll figure something out eventually, but—well—" She took his hands in hers, peeking up at him shyly. "I can't imagine not kissing you when you come back next year."

Getting emotional himself, Luka let out a breathy chuckle. "I can't imagine breaking up with you when we just got together."

She nodded vigorously in agreement, arms raising for a hug that he immediately accepted. They squeezed each other, their remaining time suddenly seeming so short.

"I'll do whatever I can, Marinette," he told her. "I want more of this; more than just Christmas."

"If you can make it happen, it’ll happen?" she asked softly, echoing their first meeting together.

He smiled. "Yeah."

Once they’d properly cherished the moment, she placed her hands on his shoulders. He obeyed the wordless order by pulling away, but she kept him firmly in her lap.

"For now, there's still some time left," she reminded him, bringing a hand back up to his face. Brushing the back of her fingers along his cheek, she added, "I don't know how much I'll need from you to hold me over for a year."

Her voice was still sad, but there was a playfulness there that made him feel like he could smile more genuinely. He leaned in, reflecting her earlier actions by taking her face in his hands. "I planned on giving you everything anyway, Marinette."

Hours later, he'd leave for the sleigh with her love in his heart and a bittersweet smile shaped by kiss-bruised lips.

~ ∘˚˳°✧°˳˚∘ ~

Luka spent a year looking for answers and ultimately found nothing. He'd searched for everything he and Marinette had talked about - an elf having a relationship with a human, and any rules on elves leaving - but there weren't any records about such things. He wondered if maybe a relationship between an elf and a human had happened, but no record had been made or it'd been purposefully kept under wraps. He also figured he might've been overthinking it, as it was like every relationship between elves were carefully cataloged; it wouldn't have been fair to the ones who chose not to get together with anyone at all. As for rules, he couldn't find any; he knew his mom would've known all the rules since you have to know them to break them, but she'd never heard of a rule saying that elves specifically couldn't leave. Still, Luka imagined it was an unspoken rule, and he was also the best instrument-making elf the workshop had, so would they really be willing to part with him anyway?

He wasn't sure. The days leading up to Christmas were chaos while he searched further for anything confirming that he could leave and be with Marinette. Even his sister and mother had been acting strange, though he knew he hadn't told them anything about Marinette.

Still, they'd hugged him before he'd gotten on the sleigh with Santa.

The ride around the world felt both long and short at the same time; short because he was dreading telling Marinette that he hadn't found anything useful, and long because Santa was taking a different route. The latter was something Santa did every year, but it was particularly strange this time around.

Luka used the MP3 player Marinette had given him to pass the time while he gathered his thoughts. He supposed that no one could technically do anything if he just chose not to go back; he was important, but certainly not needed. It was selfish, but it was also very in-character for someone who was "Anarka's son" and he was living a life he never asked for otherwise.

Of course, he also had no way of contacting Marinette from the North Pole, and thus no way to ask her if that would really be okay. What if someone came back to look for him and tangled her up in his troubles? He'd hate that more than only getting to visit her once a year.

He wasn't any closer to coming to a conclusion by the time they got to Marinette's house, and he quickly realized that it was their last stop of the whole trip.

Luka glanced at Santa with a raised brow, then down at the roof.

He could hear the shrug in Santa's response, "Might as well save the best for last, hm?" With a pat on the back so forceful that it nearly knocked Luka off the sled, he added quickly, "Good luck, Luka!"

Luka mentally dismissed the idea of questioning it, his mind already having too many thoughts to deal with. He got the sack of presents as always, then descended down from the roof and through the window, climbing in with care.

Marinette had rearranged the tree and decorations, as always, though Marinette herself was nowhere to be found. He knew he was technically late due to the different route, so perhaps she'd gone off to occupy herself until he arrived? Hoping that was the case, he walked over to the tree and knelt down, setting the sack to his side like always. Once he'd opened it up, he reached inside to grab the first present.

His fingers touched nothing.

He stiffened in shock, then tried again, outstretching his arm as far as it would go. Maybe the sack was just messing with him?

Yet, he still couldn't find a single present, and patting at the sack - in hindsight, he probably should've done in the first place - revealed that there was definitely nothing inside. He didn't understand; why would Marinette not get him any gifts, and why would they stop there in the first place if there wasn't?

His thoughts were cut off as he heard a sharp gasp from behind him. He shot up - half in surprise, half in excitement at the voice's familiarity - and spun around to see Marinette standing there. She was dressed in some mix of casual and nightwear while her hands were clasped over her mouth, eyes wide as she stared at him.

He blinked, thoroughly confused at the reaction, then searched nearby to see if maybe something was wrong. He couldn't see anything off, though the sack had apparently made itself scarce while he wasn't looking.

Regaining some of her composure, Marinette moved one hand away from her mouth and silently pointed to her back. He tried to look at his back over his shoulder, but when that failed, he reached behind himself and blindly moved his hand around.

He jumped a bit when he felt something that definitely wasn't fabric. He struggled to grab hold of it, as it had apparently been stuck to the fabric somehow, but he eventually managed to snag a corner and slowly peel it off.

He held it out in front of himself, needing to rotate and flip it in order to properly read what it said.

His heart skipped a beat.

To Marinette, From Santa

He glanced up at Marinette, his mouth agape, and was now able to see the beaming smile on her face. She couldn't hold back anymore, rushing towards him, and he quickly threw the note aside so he could spread his arms out for her. She hugged him tight, spinning him around before leaning down to bury her face in his shoulder.

"I asked for you this year," she whispered.

Suddenly, everything made sense. Santa knew that he'd wanted to leave. His family knew because they'd been told. Marinette hadn't received any other presents because she'd wanted nothing else but him.

He shook, overwhelmed with emotion. How was she the solution to everything for him, all the time?

Marinette pulled away from the hug after a solid minute, though that still wasn't long enough for him. She blushed, embarrassed as she explained, "S-sorry that I look like this, by the way. We're b-boyfriend and girlfriend, so I thought that maybe I should dress up, but then I thought that it might be romantic if I dressed up like I did when we first met, or like I did when we watched our first movie together, but then I heard the window and—"

"Marinette..."

She paused to look at him attentively, stopping her talking just long enough for him to reach up and pulled her down to his level. He kissed her, slowly at first and then more greedily as he realized that he was finally with her for the whole year and not just Christmas. Marinette was surprised at first, but it didn't take her long to start kissing him back.

Their height difference seemed so small when they were kissing, and once their legs started getting tired, they simply moved to the couch to continue. They both knew there were serious things to think about, like fake backstories, different headwear to hide Luka's ears, and what their living situation was going to be like...

But for now, it was enough for them to just enjoy the moment.

[capricornus-rex]

A Shadow of What You Used to Be (14)

Chapter 14: And So the Hunt Begins | Cal Kestis x Irele Skywalker

Requested by Anon

Summary: There is another! Years after young Anakin Skywalker departed Tatooine, his mother Shmi delivers a second child—this time, a daughter. Whilst the circumstance of the girl’s birth remains unexplained, Irele Skywalker has yet to choose the true path between those laid out for her.

Tags: Fem! OC, Irele Skywalker, Force-sensitive! OC, Anakin’s Younger Sister, Skywalker! OC, Darth Vader’s Secret Apprentice, Long-lost Sibling

A/N: I’m honestly a little worried about the story getting attention. There are times where I feel insecure and doubtful of the work I put out. A ton of questions come to me like “Has the story gotten boring?” and my answer to that is I sure hope not. If you’ve been following the story, looking forward to each chapter update, and you’re actually enjoying it, thank you so so much! That really means a lot to me. I try my best not to let the stress of work and personal life get in the way of my posting and especially my creativity. Please, guys, do me a small favor: let me know what you think of the story so far. 🙏🏻 As always, love lots 💜

Requesting to be tagged: @heavenly1927​

Also in AO3

Chapters: Prelude – 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 – 9 – 10 – 11 – 12 | Previous: Part 13 | Next: Part 15 | Masterlist

15 of ?

Irele, along with HY-L33, bolted to the elevator lobby. The door opened to the hangar bay. The young girl’s strides were poised with urgency, she commanded the nearest captain to prepare her ship and a small unit of Stormtropers to accompany her.

“Ma’am, the 65th Squadron has already been deployed to Zeffo.”

“That’s Captain Kane’s squad.”

“Indeed,” the commander’s eye rolled to the side for a bit. “What’s left of them, at least.”

“Their transmissions mentioned a Jedi who cut them down by the numbers, and you’re satisfied with what’s left of them?”

“That’s… not my implication, my lady,” the commander blushed.

The commander then held his tongue. There was no way debating through that. Complacency and settling for less were neither minor or major offenses, though it makes one’s work efficiency and ethics seem questionable. The uniformed man hung his head in shame, hoping that Irele would not say another word and leave it at that.

A hangar operator cut in their conversation—or lack thereof—indicating that Irele’s light cruiser, the Obeisance, is ready to go. He got his unspoken wish.

“Jedi can be fools. But so is one who decides to underestimate them.” Irele lectured, serving mostly as a reminder to herself than an advice to the commander.

Nothing was further said. Irele hopped into the cruiser and her droid companion followed along. The pilot was already informed of their destination, so Irele had time to do some more “light reading.”

The small computer in her quarters provided the database of all the logs transmitted from various troopers and officers originating from several, different planets. Irele narrowed down her search about the Zeffo logs and skimmed the holos until there was mention of the Jedi.

She had a strong feeling that this incident in Zeffo has got something to do with the red-haired Jedi she eyed on during the briefing with the Inquisitors. Secretly, she had feared that one or two of them might have gotten there first, though they would have most likely gone for the more notorious survivors—Jedi masters and Padawan prodigies, for instance.

“What can be said about Zeffo, Haylee?”

“A small colony of humans reside in the continent just along the planet’s equator. Albeit a large landmass, the terrain is rather hostile—as 60% of the planet is water.”

“It is also a treasure chest of sorts—for the Emperor, at least, and other like-minded hoarders,” Irele added, the droid had nothing to comment. “Stay here in the Obeisance, Haylee, understand? I can’t have you in the line of fire down there.”

Irele was the first to alight the cruiser via her personal TIE Interceptor docked in the cruiser’s hangar. Riding behind her was the transport ship carrying the 77th Squadron. The transport landed first, melding with the remnants of the 65th, while Irele demanded the last known location of where the Jedi was found.

“Lady Irele, Captain CL-5857 reporting. Sending you the last reported coordinates of the Jedi.”

“Very good, Captain. My channel’s open for you now.”

The numbers instantly appeared on Irele’s screen and followed the navicomputer after the coordinates have been encoded. The TIE Interceptor zipped past the said colony—which was now literally a ghost town sprawling with Stormtroopers, almost like ghosts. Peeking over her window, she spotted a bleach-white mound pushed to the side along the stone cottages.

Dead Stormtroopers.

“Interesting.” Irele muttered and smirked. Not the least bit fazed of just how possibly deadly her target is.

–

At the end of the Augur Pulverizers, Cal found his way on a dangerously-placed metal balcony and startled two Stormtroopers, sneaking up on them. He stayed there to catch his breath. The roar of a TIE Interceptor’s engine caught his attention and watched the ship dart through the overcast skies like a loosed arrow.

He half-dismissed the feeling he got before the TIE flew out of sight. Irele got a quick glimpse of the other end of the pulverizers, the head full of red hair was such a dead giveaway, he stood out more than the white armor dotting Zeffo’s terrain.

On his right was a plateau where more of them waited for him, but it was his only way to get to the tomb.

Irele circled her way around the mountain. She discovered her destination when she found the monument of a Zeffonian sage standing amongst the jagged pillars of rock. She remained on the high ground, docking her TIE on a plateau that overlooks this region of the planet and sensed Cal coming this way.

Trekking through Zeffo’s steep ridges and cliffsides were both exhilarating and arduous. Fresh air welcomed itself to Cal’s lungs and the wind swept off the auburn locks from his head. He emerged from the mouth of the cave at the far opposite of the grand entrance of the tomb.

Cal scanned the area and saw that the coast was clear

Too clear.

Sitting atop of one of the stone columns dotting the courtyard of the tomb was Irele, leisurely swinging her one leg over the other.

“I’m almost hoping you’re not the guy the Stormtroopers are talking about in their audio logs,”

Her entrance startled Cal, setting him on high alert and had him brandishing his saber on pure instinct. Bemused, Irele smirked while she rested her chin on her palm.

“Well, let’s see if looks really can be deceiving!”

She leaped off of her perch; lightly did her feet touch the ground at her descent. Dust plumed over the tips of her boots, and while bent, she takes her lightsaber off of the clip pf her belt to boast a pair of red blades on both ends.

Cal tried his best to remain calm. His gloves squeaked as he tightened his grip on his own saber. He activated the second frost blue blade, a statement implying that he’s just as capable as she is.

Irele smirked and cooed, “Well now.”

They battled in the second tier landing of the tomb’s courtyard. Dual-ended blades clashing against one another. Red versus blue.

If only Vader could see her now.

Irele’s training did not betray her. Those two years of strenuous training had given her a great amount of stamina, more than enough to last her two duels against a Jedi and still have more to chase them down to finish what she started.

“Come on, redhead! Don’t disappoint me!” she snarled, taunting the boy.

“Don’t worry, you’ll find I’m full of surprises!”

“Oho!” she cackled. Distanced herself for a second’s worth of a breather, she bared her teeth in a wide, mischievous grin. “I do love surprises!”

Cal wasn’t afraid to admit that his opponent was nimbler, more dexterous, and perhaps even stronger. He could feel the hate and anger flowing in her, as if it’s replaced the blood in her veins, though he thinks she’s a fool for weaponizing those emotions—ones that only a Sith would use to their advantage.

He needed to find an opening. This girl was too strong, he thought. He rammed his shoulder to her, causing her to stumble in her footing, and then—within a moment’s opportunity—he recoiled and sprung his hands to his front: sending a wave of the Force to increase the distance away from her. Then he made a run for it—there was an opening at the side of the tomb entrance, and hurriedly squeezed his way through the narrow space between two boulders.

He managed to slither his way out, but Irele caught up to him fast. Shrapnel of stones flew and clattered behind Cal, he looked over his shoulder and saw the girl appearing from the dust cloud, her crimson blades lighting up in the middle of the fog.

“Who are you!?”

No reply from the girl.

She just kept pushing forward. Greedy to land more strikes on the boy and hopefully disarm him.

Ahead of them was another way to the lift that leads to the underground level of the tomb. The only obstacle is that a ring of rocks, spinning around the lift in great speeds, is blocking Cal’s way of ever getting into that ancient elevator.

Desperately, he slows down the movement of the stones circling the lift, and bolted through while it was still safe. Irele was at his tail. They continued their exchange of strikes until either of them could notice that the influence of Cal’s Force Slow was wearing off. He had made his way closer to the lift while they fought, but Irele was too blind to be aware of her surroundings. When the stones were gradually returning to their original speed, Cal mustered up enough energy again to push Irele out of the stones’ orbit with one hand, while the other slowed the stones but they were now at his volition.

“NO!!”

Cal hopped into the lift, his one hand relaxed and the stones were orbiting the golden elevator at cyclonic speeds. As the golden lift sank, with a heavy bell-like clang to signal its descent, so did Irele’s stomach. This is unacceptable, she knew it, she needs to find another way to the tomb and catch up with the Jedi.

Meanwhile, Cal sought refuge and rest in the safety of the golden lift. He caught his breath and shook off whatever tension and adrenaline left from that fight.

“Who was that?” he asked to nobody in particular.

“Bee-woo…” BD-1 chirped.

His comlink beeped, and Cere’s voice popped through the speaker.

“Cal? Have you found the tomb?”

“Yeah, I found it. And I also found someone interesting.”

“Who?”

“She… I don’t know if she’s an Inquisitor. I’m not even sure if she is one. Though I am sure that she’s with the Empire. I saw her TIE Fighter earlier, didn’t expect to bump into her though.”

He recalled quietly what she looked like and what she wore. Normally, Inquisitors donned armor with the Empire’s insignia on it. But Irele was fashioned differently, compared to a completely armored Inquisitor: her outfit consisted of a short-sleeved top that covered her from the neck down, a long skirt complemented by ankle-length boots. The only pieces of “armor” she has are a brown leather surcoat over her top and a belt. In her defense, she preferred less is more.

“Whether or not she’s an Inquisitor, if she’s just as bad as you say she is—then you better keep an eye out. You are definitely not alone out there.” Cere warned with a graveness in her voice.

“I know.”