#to be fair to me: last year's card was one of my favorite pieces of art I've ever done like just in general

[blujayonthewing]

VIBRATING at least one person got our christmas card today and I wanna post the art so BAD but I'm forcing myself to wait until christmas this year

[yerimacoustic]

𝙢𝙞𝙭𝙩𝙖𝙥𝙚 ♡ joshua x reader

when your childhood friend, joshua finds an old mixtape both of you made years ago, he gets inspired to craft the perfect plan to tell you how he really feels. 📼🎧🥤⋆·˚ ༘ *

content warnings: roadtrip au, childhood friends to lovers, strong language, gossiping about losing the v card, literally everything goes wrong but it’s cute, fluff, soft angst since it talks about stress during college, joshua hong x gender neutral reader. both of you are graduating university! no smut but 18+, mdni! 4k wc

additional notes: this probably seems so rushed but idEC bc i needed some joshua fluff & i’m a proud supporter of the gentleman joshua agenda. also pls comment which songs you’d put on your mixtape with him, i left it kinda open to your imagination minus three songs <3 not proofread, sorrows, prayers

the end of joshua’s final semester in college came with its fair share of mixed emotions. among the many sentiments was crippling stress, seemingly the most commonly occurring one. it was nothing he wasn’t used to, being a full-time college student with a part time job and mostly insufferable roommates. four years prior, he began to dread the day he would have to pack up all of his belongings and move across town, where his own apartment was waiting.

and of course, he was right to rue the day.

it was a nightmare trying to schedule the move in date to line up with the time the u-haul had to be dropped off, especially since he couldn’t get access to his garage until a few hours after he had to turn in the keys. another $50 down the drain. luckily, he started packing his side of the dorm weeks in advance in order to spend a decent amount of time on his finals. even if he had a job lined up already, he wanted to leave a lasting good impression.

just as he was going through the last of his belongings, he found a small box hidden under his bed. judging by the cobwebs scattered along the small crate, he’d forgotten all about its existence until now. he checked the digital clock, the only thing left on his nightstand- he’d been cleaning for hours. he was entitled to a break.

so he opened the box, smiling to himself as he took in all of the souvenirs and knick knacks from years before. there were ticket stubs to the first ‘frozen’ movie, a few pieces of his favorite candy (which were beyond expired at that point), two of the lego avengers figurines, a few polaroids of him, seungcheol and jeonghan along with his mother, and..

“shut up.”

he had completely forgotten that he’d made this mixtape with you. ‘shua and y/n’s epic road trip.’ the year before you both started college, the two of you took a roadtrip across the town together. the night before you embarked on the spontaneous journey, the two of you spent hours meticulously crafting a playlist that would perfectly recount your trip. he always thought he’d left it in his car and you’d never mentioned it to him after the trip, so it simply left his mind.

but now that he was staring at the small disc, he wondered how it was even possible to forget something he cherished so fondly. it was the first trip the two of you went on together alone. you’d spent time together on school trips, even getaways with jeonghan and seungcheol, but you never seemed to get enough time alone together for joshua’s liking. even if it didn’t end with a kiss like he was hoping, it was still a memory that he held close to his heart.

that was when he devised a plan.

he reached across the floor for his phone, which had just barely finished charging. luckily, your contact was one of the only ones pinned on his phone, so dialing your phone number was a breeze. he held his phone to his ear, biting his nails in anticipation as he listened to the dial tone drone on.. and then he remembered you were in the middle of one of your lectures.

fuck.

‘hey this is y/n. i can’t reach my phone right now so leave a message or text me. bye.’ how was it that something as simple as a voicemail greeting from you could make his heart flutter?

“it’s joshua. call me back asap, i want to go on another road trip with you.”

—------------------------

going on a road trip near the end of the semester with deadlines and fees stacked upon both of your to-do lists probably wasn’t the brightest idea. there were probably a million better, more productive things both of you could be doing to prepare for the next chapter of your lives. even so, joshua waited in the parking lot of your apartment complex while tapping a nervous rhythm onto the steering wheel.

while he was waiting for you, he kept going over all of the contents in his dufflebag to ensure he had properly prepared for everything. unlike the last road trip you went on, this one would be an overnight holiday. toothbrush, shampoo, deodorant, phone charger.. he knew fully well he had everything he could need; he’d checked his overnight bag multiple times before he stepped out of the door. not only that, but he stuffed his hand in his jacket pocket multiple times to ensure the mixtape was still there.

“just calm down,” he sighed to himself after confirming, once again, that he had everything he needed. “it’s just y/n, just the one you’ve been crushing on since middle school. no big deal, you’ve done this before, you’ve gone on a trip with them before..”

he was quickly pulled out of his thoughts and mutterings once he saw you walking down the stairs. he noticed the way your eyes lit up once you noticed his car, causing his heart to race. he stepped out and ran to you, an infectious grin spreading across his lips as he pulled you into his arms. “thank you for coming with me. you have no idea how much i need this.”

you laughed as you threw your arms around his neck and hugged him just as tightly in return, his grip on you practically suffocating. in the best possible way, of course. “trust me, i’ve been needing a break too,” you sighed. “i can’t believe this is it. we’re graduating college.”

as for what that meant for the two of you, neither of you had a clue. you made sure to stay as close as possible during your time in university, planning as many get togethers as your schedules would allow, but halfway through your third year, your individual priorities seemed to outweigh any other extracurricular activities. while you weren’t able to see each other in person as often as you did when you were kids, joshua was just grateful that you kept in contact.

“i know. it’s a lot more stressful and anxiety inducing than i thought it would be.” he tried to hide his disappointment and dread as he broke from your embrace, keeping that warm smile as he led you to his car. after gently taking the bag that was slung over your shoulder and carefully tossing it in the backseat, he opened the passenger door for you. as always. “but enough about that,” he snickered, climbing into his seat and cautiously slamming the car door shut.

“you’re right. no work talks while we’re on vacation,” you giggled and shifted in your seat so you could face him, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “so, what’s first on the itinerary, mr. hong?”

“well, first things first-” he made a dramatic show of pulling the mixtape out of his jacket pocket, the corners of his eyelids wrinkling as his smile grew brighter. “look what i found.”

your eyes widened as you gently snatched the cassette from him, your hand brushing over the tape where the title had been scribbled in permanent marker. “oh my god, i forgot we made this! where did you find it?”

“under my bed,” joshua laughed, shrugging. “i thought it seemed appropriate, with new beginnings and all... we don’t have to listen to it if you don’t want to, though.”

“not at all! i’m up for a trip down memory lane,” you laughed.

joshua began to pull out of the small parking lot, feeling particularly eager to get on the road. especially since it was early in the morning; he knew it would be a beautiful view as the sun would peek from its hiding spot behind the trees. “i was hoping you would say that. because.. i was thinking we could just follow the same exact itinerary as last time.”

“really? down to the number?” you sent a knowing smirk in his direction, even if he was too focused on the road to pay any mind to it outside of his peripheral vision. you watched him nod his head as his smile grew and grew, his cheerful grin as contagious as ever. “well, since we’re following tradition, i’ll buy your chai latte again this year.”

“guess that means i’m covering dinner again,” joshua chuckled lightly, the sound going straight to your heart. as per usual, of course.

“what a gentleman,” you mused while cautiously inserting the cassette tape into the car’s rather finicky slot. you always knew joshua’s car was ancient and worn down, so you were impressed, to say the least, that it had lasted throughout the entirety of his college career. “i forgot which songs we put on here. this’ll be fun.”

“me too, actually. but.. i do seem to remember someone was constantly begging me to add taylor swift to the playlist.”

“it was a phase! everyone was a die hard fan at one point in their life.”

“sure, we’ll go with that excuse,” joshua teased you without a hint of mocking or scorn in his voice. it was more like amusement.

it was nothing short of serendipitous, the way the sun began to rise to a more comfortable resting position for the rest of the day and light up the path for you and joshua just as ‘here comes the sun’ began to play. the song was slightly muffled, the speakers in the car radio being on their last leg- it was a picture perfect moment, regardless.

you rolled down your window, letting your hand drift along the current of the breeze passing by as joshua began to pick up speed. you heard him humming along, his soothing voice fitting perfectly with george harrison’s. and you smiled to yourself- if joshua wasn’t dead set on his current career path, you knew he could easily make a name for himself as a singer.

for whatever reason, the way he muttered the endearing term ‘little darling’ so gently before each chorus stood out to you most. his sickly sweet voice added so much more meaning to the lyrics. in that moment, really all you could do was hope that he didn’t notice the way you were trying to stop yourself from smiling like a fool.

but he did. out of the corner of his eye, he noticed you bashfully bowing your head.

he finally arrived at the coffee shop, which was a tiny shack just off the main road. it was a convenient little spot for any travelers that needed a caffeine boost on their journey. except..

“oh no.” it was closed??

indefinitely??

“it’s okay!” you were quick to assure him and pat his shoulder. “there’s a gas station just up ahead. we can probably just get some coffee there, my treat.”

joshua nodded in an effort to keep up the faith. “you’re right! it’ll be a bit watery but that’s fine- right?”

“right!” you agreed with a chuckle. honestly, to you, missing out on a delicious chai latte wasn’t the end of the world but joshuasuspected it was only the beginning of a series of setbacks.

and he proved to be correct: the coffee machine in the gas station was broken, leaving the two of you to settle for some canned nitro cold brews. while joshua’s paranoia grew, you looked at the glass half full; so it didn’t go exactly according to plan.. but at least the two of you had caffeine.

“so, what was the second thing we did?” you asked, taking the smallest sips of your coffee at a time. just as a precaution.

“picnic over at that rest stop. hopefully it’s not blocked or something,” he joked, all the while secretly praying that the universe wouldn’t twist his words. it seemed that the gods were in a playful mood that day; too bad it was at his expense rather than in his favor.

by now, you were near the end of ‘side a’ and ‘feeling good’ was playing. you could only hear michael bublé’s voice very faintly at this point, but the catchy song still brought a smile to your face. “i always liked this version the best,” you told joshua.

he beamed. “that’s because it is the best one. i taught you well.”

you helped your friend pull the basket and blanket out of his trunk once he’d parked the car near the top of a hill that overlooked a lake and a series of trees surrounding the body of water. it was a quaint spot, one that seemed to put the rest of the city on display for the two of you. and like many spots in the town, it came with its fair share of legends and stories.

“did you hear the rumors that vernon lost his v-card here?” you snickered between bites of your peanut butter and jelly sandwich that joshua was gracious enough to make for the two of you.

he nearly choked on the remnants of his sandwich, shaking his head as his fist flew to cover his mouth. he looked mortified, eyes growing nearly twice their size. “what?? no! how come no one ever told me about that?”

“are you kidding?? i could have sworn someone told you,” you snickered and reached over to repeatedly pat his back. “anyways, no one knows if it’s true or not.”

“he’s a chamber of secrets, that one.”

“he certainly is.”

once joshua had finally composed himself, a sigh of contentment left his lips. he took a deep breath, basking in the fresh mountain air and sunlight. there were a few clouds in sight, nothing that should have caused too much panic. just something to give the two of you the right amount of shade.

comfortable silence passed between the two of you and you laid back against the blanket in mirrored positions, propped up by one elbow. you looked over to joshua after feeling fixated on the small lake, focusing intently on his features, instead. his eyelashes, the curve of his lips, the way his hair fell so neatly over his face.

he truly was so naturally beautiful.

you only felt pressured to snap out of your daze when he began to tilt his head towards you. your gaze fell to the blanket smoothly while your finger began to brush along one of the patterns on the fabric. his mom had made it for him, along with several other quilts that he held very dear to his heart. “i guess it would be a pretty nice place to seal the deal.”

joshua laughed out loud, “y/n l/n, i’ve never heard you say something so scandalous in my whole life.”

you tilted your head back as his words brought upon a laugh of your own, “well, this year is all about new beginnings, isn’t it? we’re changing, we’re growing..”

“i guess so,” he mused once your voice trailed off. when you looked up, he was the one fixating on your features. it brought a heated sensation among your cheeks and a dumb smile to your lips. you noticed him swallow, attempting to be subtle while shifting to rest on his elbow more comfortably. “y/n, can you promise me something?”

“of course, joshua, anything.”

“can you promise that we’ll always try to stay in touch? no matter what?” there was a pang of sadness in both joshua’s tone and in his eyes. suddenly you felt guilty for taking your lifelong friendship for granted; the last thing you wanted was for someone so dear to you to feel undervalued.

“shua- of course i will.” feeling particularly bold, you reached out to grab his hand. “i’m sorry if i’ve been.. distant lately. i feel like we’ve both had a lot going on. and it’s not going to get any better once we’ve got our nine-to-fives, but.. you mean a lot to me. i want you to stay in my life.”

just then, the man in front of you appeared as if a large weight had been removed from his shoulders. you couldn’t believe that you witness his eyes actually light up in real time, his entire figure perfectly displaying how much lighter he felt. “i want you to stay,” he repeated after you.

the two of you weren’t directly confessing your true feelings towards each other just yet, but somehow.. those five words were enough. ‘i want you to stay.’

you stayed silent, as if to let them echo between the two of you. the fact that you weren’t sure how you were supposed to follow such a simple yet beautiful statement was also a contributing factor. after a moment, you parted your lips while still waiting for the right words to show themselves to you but instead, there was a loud crash of thunder.

the two of you were so mesmerized by the pair of eyes in front of you that neither of you noticed the air around you growing gray. joshua looked up towards the dark clouds with a sigh of disdain, “of course.”

you chuckled, helping him gather the napkins, paper silverware and dishes and the blanket. by some miracle, you were able to gather all of your belongings and hop in the car before the rain started falling down at an alarming rate and substance. “wasn’t michael just singing about how the sun was in the sky?”

“i guess its opposite day.” at that moment, joshua began to wonder if someone out there genuinely had it out for him. as he turned the key in the ignition, all he could hear over the raindrops clattering against his windshield was a loud sputtering noise. maybe.. maybe he was just imagining it? he tried twisting the key again, but it proved to be fruitless.

you chuckled awkwardly, “oh.. uh…”

“oh.. that’s fine!” joshua giggled sheepishly, keeping a calm presence that wasn’t alarming or unnerving in any way. there was no point taking his stress out on you when you were not the one at fault. no one was at fault, really, except maybe the man who truly believed a car that was around when dinosaurs roamed the earth could withstand another long roadtrip. after a few more tries, he gave up and pulled the key out of the ignition. “do you.. happen to have a signal?”

“out of battery?”

“yep,” he rubbed the back of his neck with an awkward grin, unable to make eye contact with you. “usually i have a portable charger but..”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off gently. “i don’t think i’ll be able to call anyone until the rain stops, but i’ve got a full battery.”

“cool. cool, cool.” joshua chuckled, trying not to upset you by showcasing his disappointment. he tried to look on the brightside and tell himself that the two of you were on an adventure, that this would be a great story to tell your friends and family when you got back, but any positive thought was quickly replaced by looming, dark ones instead. like how he wished that in possibly one of the most stressful times in his life, he wished that just one thing would go right. that he wished this getaway was as picture perfect as the last one.

“shua, you okay?”

he was alarmed by how well you seemed to have gotten at reading his countenance; especially since he thought he made great efforts to hide what he was truly feeling. he smiled immediately, nodding in reassurance. one thing he was not going to do was ruin the mood. “yeah, yeah i’m okay. you doing okay?”

you nodded, “yeah, i’m doing great.” you paused, hoping that you weren’t pressuring him to answer. one thing you were not going to do was pressure him into broaching a topic he wanted to avoid. so your tone grew hushed as you spoke again, “but i feel like there’s a lot more that you’re not telling me.”

joshua nodded faintly in understanding. he should have known that you would have been able to read him without any troubles, considering how long you had both known each other. “i just.. wanted this to be perfect. i know you’ve been stressed lately and well, i’ve been stressed lately so i thought this would be a nice, low stakes kind of trip. but.. I guess not.” he ended his thought with a light hearted chuckle and shrug of his shoulders.

you stayed quiet for a moment, focusing on the sleeve of his jacket while pondering his words. he had put so much effort in both of these road trips and you knew his heart was in the right place. frankly, you couldn’t care less if you didn’t get your chai lattes or if your picnic lasted about ten minutes or you might not make it to the hotel.

what mattered was that joshua was there with you through it all. and through it all, he kept an adorable smile and a cheerful attitude. when your gaze shifted to the windshield, raindrops hitting the glass in record time by now, you were reminded of another song that you added to the now unattainable mixtape.

and suddenly, you got an idea.

opening up spotify, you searched through taylor swift’s discography until you found the song that you thought was perfectly fitting for the moment: fearless. you knew it was a long shot but you pressed play and turned the volume all the way up before placing your phone in your jacket pocket, where it would be shielded from the rain. then, you stepped out into the downpour.

joshua furrowed his eyebrows out of worry but perked up once he saw you motion to follow in your footsteps. just as he slammed the door shut, he could have sworn he heard the lyrics very faintly, even if they were muffled by the rainfall. ‘and you know i want to ask you to dance right there…’

you took both of joshua’s hands in yours and twirled in three or four circles, giggling the entire time. both of you tilted your heads back, feeling the cold rain against your face. it was beautiful, soothing.. unconventional, maybe, but it was perfect. once the two of you stood upright, you took it a step further.

it was just like clockwork, the way his arms fell gracefully around your waist after yours were linked around his neck. you’d hugged him several times before, you knew of his warmth- but things felt different today. the two of you swayed to the upbeat melody with stupid, giddy smiles. neither of you said a word as the rain started falling faster and harder, the lyrics inaudible at this point.

but that didn’t stop either of you.

suddenly, joshua removed one of your hands from his neck and laced his fingers with yours. he skipped around the car with you while keeping a firm grip on your waist, guiding your movements. the two of you laughed and laughed until your ribs felt tough, until it was hard to breathe. your shoulders were hunched as you held on tighter to his shoulders, bringing yourself closer to him once he finally came to a stop.

neither of you had felt so free in a long time. for that one moment you two abandoned your inhibitions and responsibilities of the real world, everything felt perfect. even something as inconvenient as the rain was beautiful.

you remembered more of the lyrics. up until that moment, you’d never thought about how perfectly they encapsulated your feelings towards joshua. growing up with him and watching him run his free hand through his hair with a firm but gentle grip on the steering wheel, the calming and reassuring presence that he provided in your life, performing any mundane task or saying such beautiful things with such a casual tone.

absentmindedly making me want you.

he really didn’t have to do too much to be the perfect man, did he?

ignoring the nagging thought in the back of your mind about how cliché your actions were, you captured his lips in a gentle, chaste kiss as the rain fell harder around you. you hoped that it would properly communicate to him your true intentions and feelings while words were momentarily lost to you.

joshua, meanwhile, felt as if he was on cloud nine. maybe this trip didn’t go according to plan, maybe there were bumps along the road- but this trip had one thing the one from years before didn’t.

[lizzyscribbles]

An Exercise in Futility (Part 2)

Not entire sure where I plan to go with this, but the pen calls to me and who am I to deny her?

(Part One)

Some days Yoichi felt good enough to take the stairs, but unfortunately the awkward shuffling alone was already proving too much. After the second time around, he’d been forced to plop down in one of the puffy, plastic chairs and catch his breath. In his mind, he could hear his brother scolding him for pushing himself, but he knew his struggles probably had more to do with the fact he’d neglected his morning medications and therapies. Soft coughs rocked his chest, and with a trembling hand he reached up to rub it.

To be fair, he had fully intended on continuing any prescribed treatments at home when he’d started skipping appointments–it was one of the only ways he could convince himself to go through with the lies–but after a few weeks the piles of pills and heavy masks had seemed less and less appealing. 

So he’d just…stopped.

Thankfully, his brother hadn’t seemed to notice yet. The last thing he wanted was another freak out and hospital stay like he’d had earlier in the year. The scars on his chest still ached whenever he thought of the incident, urging him to rub over the freshly healed marks. Hisashi hated that particular habit of his, resorting to physically pulling his hand away whenever he did it within view of the other. Yoichi was never sure why the scars seemed to bother Hisashi more than they did him, but he’d stopped wearing the low cut, loose shirts he’d favored after he caught his brother staring at the thin, white marks with that look on his face one too many times.

Yoichi didn’t remember much of the most recent scare. He’d been in bed when it’d started, chest aching as it often did, and he’d gotten up to get some water. The next thing he knew, the toilet was painted a deep shade of red and Hisashi was at his side, gripping him like if he let him go he’d just disappear as he screamed through the manor. The rest of it was a blur, but the several months he’d spent in the hospital afterwards were burned into his mind forevermore. The wailing machines, the constant surveillance, and the lack of freedom to when pee by himself made him shutter more than the pain ever did.

He’d never say it to anyone out loud–least of all Hisashi–but after the last incident, he’d told himself that if it were to happen again he’d just let himself go. 

Yoichi didn’t want to die, per say, but he didn’t want to live either, especially not like that.

Being sick was exhausting. 

His watch buzzed, drawing him from his thoughts. Lifting it, he found Hisashi’s name displayed across its face. 

The car is waiting outside when you’re done, don’t forget to have the receptionist give you a copy of the notes from today. 

Yoichi smiled wryly, sending a little thumbs up and an “almost done!” for good measure. He sat for another minute or two before easing himself up from the chair and shuffling over to where his favorite nurse, Helga, sat behind her station. She smiled as he approached, grabbing a pen out of its holder, an appointment card at the ready. He smiled back, giving a half-hearted wave.

“How’s my favorite nurse today?” He rasped, leaning against the edge of the station for support.

Helga giggled. For a seasoned nurse well into her career, she had the laugh of a middle-schooler who’d been approached by her crush. “Yoichi, baby! It’s good to see you! How’re you feelin’? Your appointment go okay? You here for my autograph again?” 

“Sure am,” he quipped, “got the pen ready for me?”

She nodded, “you know I do. Whatcha got for me today?”

“November 18th, at 2PM.” He replied easily.

“You got it.” She was already neatly transcribing the information onto the little piece of cardstock. “I keep telling you the lovely lads and ladies over in Dr. Millard’s office would be happy to write this down for you, baby, you just gotta ask when you make the appointment.”

“Sure, if I actually made an appointment, I’m sure they would.” He thought to himself, instead choosing to say. “Yeah, but then I wouldn’t have a reason to come see you, would I?”

“You don’t need a reason to see me, baby, you know that! I’m always happy to say hello to my favorite patient.” She hummed, neatly signing the bottom of the card with a little flourish and a smiley face. “But there you go, I’ll see you in two weeks, okay? Oh, well, hm, no maybe I won’t…”

Yoichi’s heart jumped a little, but he swallowed his panic and smiled. “Oh? Why not?”

“My actual baby is getting married! We’re traveling up north for the wedding, so I’ll be out for a few weeks, but like I said, everyone else would be more than happy to help you!”

Yoichi nodded, pulling his lips into a little smile as he resisted the urge to sigh. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if Helga left for good. There was only so long he could use the “I lost my reminder card” excuse with the other staff. Eventually, someone would look him up in the system and realize that his last actual appointment was six months ago and he’d canceled every single one since. Then they’d call Hisashi, since his older brother was technically his legal guardian, and all hell would break loose.

Yoichi couldn’t risk that, he was already pretty sure his brother was starting to suspect something–Hisashi always had been frustratingly good at reading him–so Yoichi had to make sure he had no reason to do so. Next time he’d have to bite the bullet and actually schedule a real appointment, then cancel it as soon as he’d opened the reminder text in view of his brother. That was usually enough to quell any suspicions Hisashi had.

He thanked Helga, wishing her the best and congratulating her on her kid’s marriage before making his way down to the ground floor and out the door.

[squirrelpudding]

January 1st, 2024

I'll be honest all I did today was work on my silly little media edit and go to the movies with my mom. We saw Wonka, which was really good! Before seeing it I thought Timothee Chalamet would not be silly enough to play the character well, but turns out he is one goofy guy. My mom LOVES the original Charlie and the Chocolate factory, and she really like this movie as well. Every time I go to a movie theatre with my mom she talks about how when picking seats "everyone" (her) chooses the seats that are around other people because, in her words, "what do they know that I don't?". I laugh every time she says that. We went to a theater that was pretty far away because my mom got an AMC gift card from a family member, and the nearest AMC theater was like half an hour away. It was really odd because whenever there was a silent part of the movie or the silence between trailers you could hear the screen making noise. It was like purring (?) but not. Its weird to think it is 2024. The aforementioned "media edit" that I am working on is more like a letterboxd recap. Last year everyone was posting their "me core" edits and their media edits to like "American Teenager" by Ethel Cain. I loved seeing those, and I've seen a few this year but not as many. My edit is just movies I saw this year, but I'm putting a lot of effort into it. My computer cannot handle the ~95 movie clips that I have downloaded, but its fine. Putting my favorite pieces of media to my favorite songs is just so special, I love it so much. That's why I love edits [like on tiktok]! Because I love seeing Merlin and Arthur pine for each other while Boygenius plays in the background! Or seeing Greg and Rowley dance to "Ribs" by Lorde! Also today I watched "My Best Friend is a Vampire", which I only discovered existed because a few weeks ago I was watching "Dead Poets Society" edits on tiktok, and stumbled across an edit of that movie (see attached video). I don't know how the edit is such high quality considering that the movie is from the 80s and the website I watched it on had terrible quality. To be fair, I watched on DEFINETLY NOT a pirating site, so it was bound to have been a little crappy. I think my blogging is going well so far, in the two days/posts I've done, but I think it will start to go downhill when school starts again. I think I will get too busy/tired with school and work that I will only blog like once or twice a week. I hope I keep posting consistently. I have always wanted to keep a diary, and have tried several times, but I always forget to write or I get tired of it and it becomes a chore. But with my twitter "picture of the day" threads I do, I have been very consistent, which is good! I don't know how to end this post.

[pascalpanic]

Oooh the fluffy prompts are fun! Could you do “are you sugar personified or something?” with Javier?

Birthday Cake (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

Summary: Your best friend Javi, the storm cloud to your rainbows and sunshine, is celebrating a birthday today. Gotta cheer the grump up!

W/C: 1.9k

Warnings: language, Javi has dirty thoughts. of course he does.

A/N: idk I just think he’s neat 💖 thanks for the prompt!!

Few people know things about Javier that weren’t common knowledge. Most people know that his full name is Javier Peña, he’s from Texas, he’s fantastic at his job and he’s a womanizer.

You and Steve Murphy are two of the people with more knowledge. You know that he has a sweet tooth but doesn’t recognize it. You know his favorite brand of cigarettes, his favorite brand of whiskey, he always knocks twice in a quick succession on a door. He’s a wild card in the field, but he’s incredibly predictable around the embassy and as a friend.

You work as an Intelligence Research Specialist at the embassy, processing raw data and turning it into intel. This means you work closely with the agents, but Peña and Murphy are your favorites. Steve is the only man who doesn’t hit on you in the entire building, and Javier is the only man who can do it in a way that makes your stomach flutter a little.

You’re the go-to gal for the two mustached men. If they need data, you’re the one they find. And that’s often- the two men love to make impulsive decisions about fieldwork, and you’re the one who has to give them the grounds to go do things. You’re the one who decodes the wiretap that the agents place. You help with interrogations sometimes, and give the men recommendations on what they should do. It’s rare that any of them, besides Peña and Murphy, listen to you, though.

The three of you are the triple threat around the office; wherever you go, the other two men aren’t far behind. They follow you like ducklings to the mother bird with the information, the details, the who-what-when-and-where to their how.

The two men enjoy you too. Steve loves your baking. It reminds him of home. Javier, on the other hand, rarely comments when food is presented to him, but he’ll eat plenty of the sweet treats when he thinks no one is looking. Javier refers to you as a “ray-of-fucking-sunshine,” usually through a mouthful of whatever you baked last. Your positivity and energy is the complete opposite of his gruff demeanor.

Javier really likes you, more than he should. He wants you, wants to kiss you deeply and lay you down on his bed and absolutely destroy you. You’re just so fucking cute, always with that infectious good mood. You see the shit these men do on the daily, and you still seem almost naive. No, not naive. Just hopeful. That’s rare, and Javi admires it.

You like them, as more than coworkers, as friends. Steve is a funny guy. You like him and his wife, Connie. They’re good company. You live next door to the Murphys, which puts you right near Javier too.

Javi, you two called him outside of work. He had a dry sense of humor, and was hard to pull away from the job. They both were. You were better at compartmentalizing than they were. He was handsome and flirtatious, but you figured he’d never like you. Too different of people.

The three of you shared details of your lives at work. Steve would talk about his adoptive daughter’s latest milestones, about his wife and his arguments. You and Javier didn’t have much to share. Your heart twinged every time Steve mentioned another hookup Javier had had.

Something about him is magnetic. Javier makes you grin and giggle and shy away but come out of your shell at the same time. But of course, you’re coworkers and friends. Just friends. It would be impractical to think that you could be something more, if he even wanted to in the first place.

November rolls around in Colombia, and with it comes Javier’s birthday. November 8th, in a year he refused to tell you. Steve told you later. The Murphys and you are the only people aware of this. Javier doesn’t like a fuss to be made over him. Of course, knowing you, a fuss is the only thing practical.

It’s a Sunday when Javier turns a year older. Connie and Steve are doing something with their daughter, probably. Javier doesn’t have friends besides you or Steve. That motivates you to go even grander.

You wake in the morning with a grin. November 8th. After taking your time waking, you find your way to the kitchen and begin the process. You lovingly fold the dry ingredients in a bowl, then add the wet ones. A beautiful looking cake batter forms, and you dare to lick the spoon once the cake is in the oven. It’s good.

As it bakes, you hum to yourself and find your way to the phone. “Murphys,” a sweet voice rings out. Connie.

“Hey lovely,” you say with a grin. “Is Steve home?”

“Yeah, what’s up? Please don’t be calling for work,” she says, even though the tone of your voice indicates it isn’t.

“Oh, no. I guess you’d know: it’s Javi’s birthday. The two of them doing anything tonight?”

“I completely forgot,” Connie gasps. “But no, not that I’m aware of.”

“Just checking. Thanks, girl.”

“Yeah, any time.” Connie hangs up right as the oven beeps that the cake is done.

-

A knock comes at Javier’s door in the evening. He opens it to find you with a beautifully iced cake, a bottle of whiskey, and a grin. “Happy birthday,” you say as you see him, and his neutral expression grows to a small smile.

“You know I hate birthdays,” he chuckles lightly.

“That’s too damn bad, because I love them. Do you have any plans for tonight?” You ask him.

He’d been considering calling up one of his girls to fuck until he forgot his name or how old he was getting, but he’d much rather be with you. “No,” he shakes his head.

“Wanna share this cake and whiskey?” You ask, hope in your eyes as you lean forward a little.

Javier laughs.

“Are you sugar personified or something? Come on in,” he says and moves to allow you in. You set the cake and whiskey down on his counter and immediately head for a cupboard where you know he keep the plates. “Thank you for this.”

“Of course. It’s my best friend‘s birthday, gotta treat him.”

“I’m your best friend?” He asks, somewhat in disbelief as you return with two plates, two forks, and two glasses of whiskey.

You shrug. “Of course you are. Who else would it be, Steve?” You snort as you sit at his table and he sits across from you.

“Just… no one back home?”

You give him an honest smile, your perky demeanor dropping. “No, Javi. You’re my best friend. I genuinely enjoy you as a person. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yes.”

You sigh and reach for your purse. “You’re a piece of work, Peña,” you sigh as you stick a couple of candles into the cake. You don’t smoke, but you carry a lighter for Javier and Steve, which you grab from your purse and use to light the candles. “Okay. Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you,” you sing softly to Javier, grinning and looking into his eyes.

He doesn’t deserve you, he thinks to himself. Someone so beautiful and kind and yeah, beautiful, so stunning, and yet you never go on dates or hook up with anyone, even when it’s so easy. Why? He selfishly hopes it could be because of him.

“Happy birthday dear Javi… happy birthday to you.” He knows the drill. He blows out the candles and they go out easily. “What did you wish for?” You ask sweetly and quietly, slicing into the cake.

“Can’t tell you.” It was you. He can’t tell you that not because he fears it won’t come true, but because he fears what could come after it.

You sigh. “You’re impossible,” you tease and scoop a slice, handing it over to him. He pops the bottle of whiskey open and pours a glass for each of you.

“You’re the impossible one. All sunshine and rainbows in the middle of a fucking drug war.”

You shake your head as you scoop yourself a piece. “Someone has to be. No one else was taking the job. You think I enjoy it? I get pissed sometimes too. I hide it.”

“You, angry? I’d like to see it,” he shakes his head and takes a bite.

Rolling your eyes, you take a bite of the cake too. “Hiding my feelings for the good of others since the day I popped out of the womb.”

His face softens. “Hey.”

You shake your head. “Sorry to be depressing. It’s your birthday, after all. How does it feel to be a year older, hm?” You ask, trying to put the facade up again. It only half works.

Javier sets down his fork. “Hey, brillante.” Shiny. “I know you have more feelings in there. Tell me them.”

“Since when have you been one for emotions, Javier?” You ask dryly and raise an eyebrow.

He nods. “That’s fair. But you can tell me anything. I’m your best friend, right?”

Sighing, you look down at your plate. You don’t want to admit that what you’re thinking about is how you don’t want him to be your best friend, you want to love and adore him and be more. Lovers, partners, anything. “Hey. Answer.”

The frustration gets you and you snap. “I care about you, Javier. I like you. I think about you a lot. As more than just a friend, really. And I shouldn’t, because we’re coworkers and friends.” The words flow before you can stop yourself.

He’s taken aback. He certainly didn’t expect that. “Oh.”

You bite your lip. “That’s exactly why I held that in for so long. Because you responded like that. It’s not your fault, either, so don’t say that, that you’re sorry you don’t feel the same, that-“

Javier stands and walks to your side of the table. He squats to your seated height. “Look at me.”

You do, albeit in a confused way. “Yeah?”

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long. I’m about to do this for me and me alone, because I know you want to do it too.”

“What?”

He kisses you, cupping your face in his hands. He tastes like frosting and whiskey and cigarettes and oh god, it’s heavenly. His calloused fingertips against your cheeks, his warm and plush lips against your own. He means it, you can tell it. He breaks away, breathing heavily. “Hey. My ray-of-fucking-sunshine. I want you, I’ve wanted you for a long time now. Since I first laid eyes on you.” He brings your face close to his. “Never hold it in again.”

You close the gap between the two of you, kissing him again. Hard. Passionately. You hold the back of his head with one hand, the other snaking around his shoulder. You stop for a second and stand, and he follows. “Goddamn, you really are sugar personified.” The gap closes between your lips, from mutual movement forward, into another needy kiss.

You throw your arms around him, making a soft noise of need into his lips. “Javi,” you shudder as his lips trail to your jaw and then to your neck.

“Got my birthday wish.”

[tnystrk-exe]

Repentance

Your choices led you here.

AN: Honestly I couldn’t get the idea for the last scene out of my head.

“Alright team,” you heard Cap through your ear piece, “time to go home.”

And you did. Without a second thought.

Tony had sent out a relief squad and different aids for people. He had hoped to help. There was no after party this time around. But you understood why. Especially after finding him in his lab, staring longingly at a bottle of scotch, a screen of names scrolling past. The mission had put him through enough to want to cancel his promise of good behavior.

You walked over to him. Replacing the bottle with a cup of coffee you had brought down. “Tony, you did what you thought was right.”

“That’s not enough for them… their families. For what? A fucking whim of ours?”

“I know,” you sighed, walking over to a sink and pouring out the bottle, “I think about it too. What we could have done. What shouldn’t have. But in the moment with you, Bruce, and I all in the lab it felt right.”

“You saw the recording of New York. How couldn’t I try, something? Anything.”

A shiver went up your spine as you remembered the helmet’s footage. As much as the team had done. It would have all been over if that ship had touched ground. “We need protection,” you confirmed, “but maybe not an A.I.. Honestly, we’re probably just going to have to rely on finding good people. You should look for them instead of…”

“Are you still going to that memorial?”

“Yeah, but not as an Avenger.”

-

Then it all happened. After Sokovia, you all knew in a way that pulling at the right thread would tear the fabric of the team apart. Too many conflicting thoughts. Placing blame on one another. The Accords. Not wanting to be held down by a contract even though you could work your way through to the top if you could play your cards right.

None of you had ever imagined it would end like this. Broken apart. Teared open and bruised.

You had found Tony using the suites intertwined tracking systems. A tape played on repeat. The Winter Soldier, murdering two people. On a second viewing, you finally realized who exactly they were. Bile rose up your throat, you needed to find him. That just left finding him as Steve had left him. Cut up, tears- that you wouldn’t dare mention- streaked his face as he angrily shoved off pieces of his suit. A wound he had tried desperately to heal ripped open again with betrayal to act as salt.

You didn’t take away his bottle that night. Hell, you joined him.

-

“I’m still against this, YN,” Tony sighed, looking at you with that tired look of his, “Why?”

“I don’t know, Tone. It just feels like something I need to do. For myself more than anything.” You placed the last of your things in the suitcase. “As much as I hate what he’s done. There are things I can understand.”

“He broke us apart.”

“We were already divided. As much as we tried to be a family, do all this shit together… The second there was pressure we went into our normal fractions. Honestly, it’s a damn wonder we trusted Double Agent over there.”

He nodded, understanding that you had made a couple of points. “That was a bad call, but hey you can’t win everytime. ...I’m glad you chose this side if anything.”

“Yeah sap, what would I do without your cash?” You joked, “We’re in this together old man. Thick and thin. You know that. Anyways, by the time I come back, I fully expect a ring on Pep’s finger.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Hap’s been waiting for you for the past hour. Get going, come back safe and all that jazz.”

-

Walking through the prison was nerve wrenching. Honestly, even though you had planned out the trip, you really didn’t expect him to agree to the visitation. You followed the guard down the long, dim corridors, not knowing exactly what you’d do or why you were there.

“Here you are. Everything is being monitored.” With that he opened the door and slammed it shut behind you.

“Zemo,” you greeted when you laid sight on the man.

“Avenger,” he said it more as an insult, “To what do I owe the displeasure?”

“I owe you an apology,” you stated simply, “I really am. What you went through, it wasn’t anything I expected to happen.”

“I can accept it if that's what you wish, however what use does it have for me, really? You people do as you wish without a thought of what happens to others. People get hurt and killed. Then you’d all go home, back to your obnoxious towers and celebrate that none of you were killed. How many have taken your place?”

“That’s fair,” you nodded, looking at the ground, “I deserve that.”

“Did you celebrate the destruction Tony Stark created?”

You laughed humorlessly, “He always gets all the credit for that, probably because of the tin foil wrapping. It’s a shared burden, I’m afraid, Bruce and I worked just as hard to create Ultron. No. We didn’t celebrate.”

“Then we’re even. You took my family, I tore yours apart.”

“It’s not the first I’ve lost. Knowing my luck it isn’t the last.”

He tilted his head, signaling you to go on.

“We were some dumb kids at the time, maybe 16 or so. The community we lived in was an absolute shithole. Things would get swept under the rug. People would get hurt, killed, used for fun, just because that’s what people felt like doing. So what are a group of good for nothing orphans going to do, none of us really had much hope. We became vigilantis of sorts using ourselves as bait regularly. Did what we had to do. But we were young, dumb and things always have a way of catching up with you.”

“I’m very sorry for the pain you experienced in your youth.”

“Like you said…” you shook away the memories,you weren’t here to rehash those years, “The point is Zemo, I need you to know I do feel for you. I’ve looked into you and you were a good man, probably still are under all the pain. When we made Ultron we had hopes for the best, after what happened in 2012, we all knew something bigger would happen. Tony and I share that, we get paranoid, but how can’t you be when shit hits the fan like that,” you snapped, “It was just a matter of how, when, if we’d be prepared… and in all of that we failed. So honed in to the details of what we could do, we were blinded to what we would cause. Zemo, no amount of forgiveness would ever clear me of the guilt of just how badly we failed you.”

Zemo stared at you, searching for any sign that this was all just a show. When he finally decided you were sincere he gave you a nod.

“There’s something I want to ask of you…”

-

That’s how you found yourself in Zemo’s family grave. Each step brought you closer to three of the deaths you helped cause. His son was in between his wife and father. The bag of sweets at your side was held limply as you found your way to the right grave.

“Hey, buddy,” you set the Turkish delights on the grave, “Your father said he’s sorry, he couldn’t do this for you this year. But don’t worry, I’ll pick it up for him.”

A shuddered breath escaped you as you thought about the child in the ground. Only able to conjure up a picture of a younger looking Helmut Zemo. A soft round face, light brown hair that was combed neatly just to be messed up seconds later, eyes that questioned everything in the world around him. He should’ve been wreaking havoc, running throughout the home with his father chasing after the excited child. Instead of here, where your choices had placed him.

Sitting down on the ground you fished out the book Zemo had instructed you to get, “Now, I believe your father said he had been really excited to read this one to you. It was one of his favorites.”

[littlemisslol-fic]

The Silent Opera

Chapter Five: Off Key

Summary: In a world populated by Soulmates— people drawn together by wordless music connecting them to their destined other half— Varian is an anomaly. He is Songless, someone without a Soulmate of his own. He makes due with the cards dealt to him, used to being the castle oddity by now, but when an interesting blond takes up residence in the castle, he can't help but be drawn to him.

Hugo, on the other hand, is horrified to find that not only is his Soulmate a palace brat, but that Varian doesn't hear him back— meaning Hugo is trapped in a one-sided bond. When presented with a horrible choice between completing the theft Donella had sent him to do, or taking a frightening step into vulnerability, Hugo finds himself at an impasse he just might not be able to charm his way out of.

And then politics get involved.

Notes: Hey hey everyone! The honeymoon phase is over-- lets get this party started!! Time for me to start earning that meodrama tag! In other news, the beautiful notapeacefulduck on tumblr drew some absolutely ADORABLE art for this fic, which you can find over here!! I love how it's so cute, and Ruddiger is my favorite little mans 🥺🥺

Hugo, not from lack of trying, ends up stuck in the great hall.

One of the maids— Fate? Whatever, she’s forgettable— snags him by the elbow and tells him all castle employees have to be present for the announcing of their guest, though whyHugo couldn’t tell you. Maybe to make their visitor feel like a super special big boy, maybe to make up for the fact that he looks like a fucking peacock.

Up close, the man isn’t exactly much to write home about. He’s maybe a bit older than Hugo—by a year or two at best—with pale, almost sunken skin and darting, black eyes. A gruff, well-trimmed beard frames an impossibly blank face, the man regarding the people of Corona with an impassive stare. His jacket is emblazoned with medals, silvers and gold and little flags that mean fuck all, and his shoulders are draped in a large cloak of rich, dark fur. The guy looks like a ponce.

He enters the great hall in even, measured strides, barely sparing a glance to the crowd as he leads his procession. The king and queen sit on their thrones, as does the princess and her husband. Oddly enough, Varian stands with them. Hm. That’s odd; in all the other royal court business Varian’s been stuck next to Hugo. He knows this, because last time they’d had a grand procession, Hugo had spent the entire hour trying to step on Varian’s toes to break his composure

Hugo’s thrown from his thought as the Song shrieksin his ear, a terrified cacophony of noise that makes him flinch at the abruptness. He nearly brings his hands up to cover his ears, only just stopping himself before someone can notice. Hugo’s eyes snap back to Varian, the alchemist standing ramrod straight next to Eugene. Varian’s eyes are bright, his skin pale; Hugo’s eyes widen in surprise— is he scared? Varian looks like an animal caught in a trap, stiff and shaking. The Song screams even louder as the visitor approaches the dais, ramping up in octave and sound—

Nigel, next to Frederick, unrolls a large piece of parchment, clears his throat and reads it out loud to the crowd.

“Announcing Grand Duke Landis Fountaine, Lord of Dorgoil House,” Nigel declares, his voice ringing through the castle. “Emissary for the Kingdom of Socria, heir apparent to the Grand Dutchy of Kaivell; Son of Grand Duke Sevim Fountaine, nephew of King Fehnur of Socria. The Kingdom of Corona welcomes you, Your Grace.”

Blah, blah, blabbity blah. What a long-winded way of saying some guy born into money.

Landis stops his march in front of the royal family, bowing deeply. “It is an honor to be invited to fair Corona,” he says, voice echoing. Barf. “I hope that we are able to come to an amicable agreement for both sides.”

The Song, somehow, manages to ramp up another octave. Fuck, what is it with Varian? There’s got to be some kind of history here, right? Sure, Landis has huge douche energy but he’s nowhere near scary. The FearTerrorAnxiety Varian’s projecting is definitely out of proportion; it makes Hugo feel twitchy, a million ants crawling under his skin. He fucking hates it.

“Of course,” Frederick says. His voice fills the room, authoritative to a fault. He turns from Landis then, addressing the rest of the castle staff. “The Grand Duke is my honored guest. He and his men shall be addressed with the same respect you would give to a member of our own nobility. You may return to your duties.” He then turns back to his guest, standing from his throne. “If you would follow me, Your Grace.”

The royals all begin to file out through a door to the back of the room. The rest of the castle occupants begin to leave through the main doors, scattering to the wind. Hugo has half a mind to try and follow the royal family, more to sate his own curiosity than anything, when he registers the Song growing louder.

He forces himself not to turn around until he feels a hand on his elbow, ignoring Varian until anyone else would know he’s there. When he does turn to be face-to-face with Varian, his first thought is oh, he looks much worse up close.

Because he does. The paleness in his skin is much more pronounced, his freckles standing out much more; his eyes, shiny and blue, dart around a little, flicking from Hugo to the throne room, and back again. He’s hiding it, but not well. Interesting.

“H--hey,” Varian says. Hugo finds it within himself not to comment on the voice crack. “Hey, sorry I just kind of. Uh. Left you. In the garden.”

“Oh, yeah.” Yeah, he had, hadn’t he? “Whatever, it’s fine.”

Hugo rubs a hand along the back of his neck, already wanting this conversation to end. Shit, his hair’s getting long, he might need to cut it while he’s here… oh, shit, Varian’s still talking, right.

“—I just needed to get ready for, uh, this, you know?” He gestures to the empty thrones, the royals long since fucked off to do whatever. Probably gloat about how great they think they are. Hugo’s silence seems to spark something in Varian, his words coming quicker to fill the gap.

“Because, you know, with everything, I had to, uh. I didn’t want to be here, but since— with Landis, and—”

Hey, yeah.

“What is that about, anyways?” Hugo tries to keep his tone light. He regrets the question the second he says it; Varian’s Song almost stutters in a freeze, the needle hopping the record tread in Varian’s thoughts. For a heart-stopping second, things go quiet. Hugo barely has time to breathe before the Song returns, strong once more. Varian coughs roughly into his fist, looking away.

“I—right. You weren’t here, last year.”

“Last year?”

“They were here. Landis and his father. This was back when we were only just starting to hear whispers from Equis.” He pauses then, looking around. Though the crowd has thinned, he scans the area and must deem it lacking, as Varian juts his chin and gestures for Hugo to follow.

They leave through a side door, into a service hallway. Hugo hadn’t even known this one was here, what the hell—

“Okay.” Varian keeps walking, but at a slower pace so Hugo can keep up. “This time last year, Socria sent Landis and his father here, at our request.”

Something about how Varian refers to the guy so casually makes Hugo want to bite something.

“Okay, got it. Why are they back?”

Varian winces. “Fred wants an alliance. Socria has one of the largest armies in a thousand leagues; if we were allied with them, Equis would think twice about doing anything… rash.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, goggles.”

Varian huffs. “I’m getting to it. Last year negotiations hit a— I don’t know, call it a bump. They wanted something, something a little more binding than a contract.”

“What, a human sacrifice?”

“No— what? No, why would you even think that?”

Hugo shrugs, pulling a face. Varian rolls his eyes, clearly unimpressed.

“No, not that. Corona and Socria aren’t… the best of friends. A little ink on paper isn’t enough for them. We frankly offered more than we should—” he grumbles that part, someone must be bitter, “—but they wanted a guarantee that the bargain would be upheld. That’s where Landis comes in.”

“And? What’s the ponce going to do?”

Varian scratches the back of his neck. He stops, then, in the middle of the abandoned hall. It’s darker here, less light from the torches throw Varian’s face in shadows.

“He’s Songless, too,” Varian says, like that explains anything. Hugo’s face must show how confused he is, as Varian curses under his breath. “Fuck’s sake. He doesn’t have a Soulmate, Hugo. Neither do I. I know Koto had the same idea with their Songless nobles, one of your princesses went through the exact same thing two years ago.”

Hugo wracks his brain, trying to remember. He’d been on a job in Galcrest, but he’d heard talk of a big stir in the political landscape between Koto and Ingvarr, one that finally ended through…

Oh.

Oh fuck.

“An arranged marriage?!” he squawks at the very idea, stumbling back a few paces. His back smacks into the wall, his thoughts reeling at the implications. Shock flows through him, an electric current up Hugo’s spine. What the fresh hell--

Varian throws his hands up, covering Hugo’s mouth with a snarl. “Shut up!” His face twists into an ugly expression. “Do you want half the castle to hear you?!”

Hugo slaps at Varian’s arms, offended. Varian fixes him with a look before letting him go, backing off enough that Hugo can breathe. The blond gasps for air, still reeling.

“Are you kidding me?” Hugo asks, searching Varian’s face for some indication of a joke— he can’t find one, but that won’t stop him from trying. “Goggles, you?”

Varian’s sneer gets a little more pronounced. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Hugo rolls his eyes, gritting his teeth against his beating heart. “You know I don’t mean it like that, I mean, why not some other noble kid, why you?”

Varian bristles, shoulders hiking. “It wasn’t my idea,” he snaps, still whispering despite how alone they are in the hallway, “and everyone else is protected by having a Soulmate already. In deals like this, they take what they can get.”

“But—”

But this isn’t what was supposed to happen.

“—What if you don’t get along? Do you even like him?”

Varian shifts back at that, blinking rapidly at the sudden shift in gears. Hugo nearly does the same— where the fuck did that come from?— but stops when his back meets the stone wall once again. Varian scratches at his cheek, not meeting Hugo’s eye. “He’s alright,” the alchemist says vaguely, “I only met him a few times, last year. Mostly that was Frederick showing off what I could do— what I could make. He’s… he’s fine. It’s fine.”

“It doesn’t sound fine.”

Varian sucks in a breath through his nose. “It’s an honor to serve my country.” It’s robotic. Obviously a line that’s been fed to him. His face softens, turning into a simple frown. “And untimely, it’s not up to me. You have to keep this to yourself, okay? The general public doesn’t know, we’re keeping it quiet until the contracts are signed— so no blabbing.”

That’s accented by Varian shoving his finger into Hugo’s face. It’s not very threatening, but Hugo’s still reeling. An arranged marriage… his Soulmate’s in an arranged marriage—

“Sure.” His voice is choked. “Yeah. My lips are sealed.”

Fuck.

—————♪—————

Dinner that night is interesting. At least, that’s a word for it.

Usually, the castle staff eat in a canteen, one near the kitchens deep in the center of the castle, while the royals above dine in luxury. Though really, even the servant’s food here’s pretty good; Hugo would be lying if he said he could do better. Usually, Hugo would sit on his lonesome in the dining hall, off to the side by his own doing. He likes to take the time to decompress, to get lost in his own thoughts. Varian rarely joins him, usually dining with his father or the princess, but there’s still the occasional time he would show up and eat next to Hugo, the silence a mile wide between them. Hugo’s pretty sure, if he weren’t there, Varian would eat alone too.

Tonight, however, is a grand feast to celebrate the Grand Duke’s arrival, so unfortunately for Hugo he ends up trapped in the great hall of the castle with every other schmuck who’s ever worked here, doing his best to pretend he has table manners while also trying to wipe the last of his stew from the bowl with a piece of bread. He gets a few bitchy looks from some of the maids, but fuck them; food is food, and he won’t let it go to waste.

Up at the head table sits the royal family and their esteemed guest, the guy who already pisses Hugo off. If you asked why, he wouldn’t be able to tell you… other than the usual. Hugo already can’t stand the way the ponce struts around like a fucking peacock, all wrapped up in fancy clothes like they make him any more of a man. Fucking irritating.

Hugo presses his lips flat as he catches sight of a familiar crown of black hair walking up near the nobles’ table; Varian shifts awkwardly as he makes his way to the front, returning from a brief absence a few minutes ago. Hugo tracks him with his eyes, zeroing in on him as the Song flutters with anxiety. It picks up the closer Varian gets to the table, until it’s almost a high-pitched scream that rattles around Hugo’s skull.

Landis sees Varian’s arrival, standing from his own seat to pull Varian’s out for him. Disgusting. Varian seems awkward about it, which does absolutely nothing to simmer down the boiling pot that is Hugo’s mood right now; if anything it’s worse, when Landis says something and Varian politely smiles. Fuck. Fuck.

Hugo slaps his spoon down onto the table with an audible clack. He’s suddenly not very hungry. In fact, he’s starting to feel suck. A clustering, twisting feeling settling into his stomach, one that grows every second he has to look at the ponce and his little entourage. Just a wannabe tough guy, who probably never did a day of hard labor in his life— and yet here he was, just getting whatever he wanted, like usual for fucking royals.

Hugo’s muscles feel tight. Like he’s ready to jump the table and either run away or punch someone in the face. He feels fucking feral. And the worst part? He’s not entirely sure why.

Rapunzel doesn’tkick up the same reaction, neither does Eugene. Varian makes Hugo want to antagonize him, but not like this. Not like a thousand little ants crawling under his skin, itchy and demanding and making him twitchy. Maybe it’s something in Landis’ smug, punchable face that makes him so very easy to hate. Maybe it’s the way he walks, stomping around in his stupid boots and towering over everyone. Hell, maybe he’s just an asshole.

Either way, Hugo can’t wait for this whole thing to blow over. He glares at the nobles again as Landis leans over to whisper something to Varian, pulling a genuine laugh from him. The Song trills in amusement, but Hugo’s sure if Varian could hear him back—

But he can’t. Right. Right.

The blond winces, looking down into his empty bowl. Of course. Varian can’t hear him. The twist in his stomach rises up into his chest, a thick knot in his throat he can barely breathe past. Varian can’t hear him. Varian doesn’t know that Hugo’s mind rattles with his Song every hour of the day, doesn’t know that he’s not Songless for no reason, doesn’t know that Hugo can’t man up and fucking try…

Whatever.

Whatever. He can’t crumble about some stupid fucking pretty boy with a martyr complex. Hugo’s better than that. Better than whining over a bond that isn’t reciprocated. Better than wanting a Soulmate, better than wanting to Sing.

Better than wanting to try.

Landis stands then, toasting the crowd with a graceful movement. Uppity prick. The ponce smiles at the castle staff with teeth so bright they almost shine. His back is ramrod straight with one arm tucked behind him. He stands like a soldier. He stands like an asshole.

“Good people of Corona,” Landis says to them, voice absolutely dripping with slimy smugness, “I thank you all for your hospitality. It has been far too long since I was in the presence of such amicable people, and in such a beautiful House. I’m sure that this conference shall bring the people of Socria and Corona together as allies, and as friends. I’m sure the coming months will prove to be beneficial to all parties, and I once again thank you for welcoming myself and my men to your fair country.”

Polite applause breaks out across the hall as Landis toasts them again. Hugo can’t even bring himself to join it, instead crossing his arms pointedly and glaring at the man.

He scowls, glaring as the royal family stand from their seats. Frederick gives another boring address to the crowd, bidding them all a good night, before they begin to leave. The King and Queen go first, Rapunzel and Eugene following close behind. Landis walks next to Varian; Hugo zeros in on where their hands brush against each other, almost touching.

He looks away before he actually vomits.

—————♪—————

Hugo’s been acting weird. Well, weirder than usual.

Varian can’t quite put his finger on it. He’s more irritable, that’s for sure, snappy and tightly strung, but Varian can’t figure out why. It can’t be because of the garden, right? Hugo had said they were okay about that, hadn’t he? Varian combs through his memories, trying to pick out what exactly he’d done to sour Hugo to him, but comes up empty.

Ah, well. Unfortunately, Varian has more to worry about. Hugo would have to wait.

The party from Socria had settled well into the castle. It’s hard to believe it’s only been a week since their arrival; Varian’s felt the tension tightening with every second Landis is here, the crank turning and turning until something is going to snap. He’s not sure why— but he knows better than to question his gut, by now. He’s nervous, and he knows it— something that isn’t helped by not only the King, but Nigel, Rapunzel, and Eugene all breathing down his back every second of the day.

It’s agonizing. Varian’s never been the most charming of people, especially not when it came to things of a more romantic inclination. He stillcringes when he thinks back to m’lady, of being fourteen and convinced that he liked a woman nearly twice his age. Not his finest hour. Not his worst, either, but it’s definitely up there. He’s only thankful that, in matters of this whole charade, Landis is the one who is in charge of doing the court-ing, as he’s the one with higher stature. Quirin may be a village leader but he’s still only a knight: Frederick’s vassal. Neither he, nor Varian as his heir, had anything on a Grand Duke, of all things.

So. At least there’s that.

Varian rubs at the bridge of his nose, blankly staring at the book in his lap. He’s on one of the many balconies, sitting on a stone bench and blatantly ignoring his work as he puzzles over everything. If Varian had his way, he’d be locked away in the lab or the library, hidden deep in the depths of science and information— you know, where things make sense. Where X=Y and reactions are spot on every time; not surrounded by people who constantly twist their words and try to pin him like a bug to a board.

He sighs, scratching behind Ruddiger’s ears. The raccoon, curled up near his hip on the bench, lets out a coo and snuggles closer in his sleep. Hm. At least someone’s happy.

He rubs at the place where eye meets nose, blinking the sunlight away and trying to read again. Despite his best attempts, the words refuse to stick, no matter how many times he reads the first paragraph. His thoughts scatter to the wind, swirling around and impossible to catch for long enough to get a coherent concept of them. Brutal, just brutal.

“Varian?”

Oh. He twists on his bench, tilting his head in acknowledgment at the figure standing in the doorway.

“Hi, princess,” he says, turning back to his book. Rapunzel helps herself to the spot next to him, so that Ruddiger sits between them. She’s fidgety, her bare feet tapping on the tiles in a little rhythm only she can hear. Probably to Eugene’s Song, if Varian were to guess. Rapunzel shifts on the bench, turning a bit so she faces him. Oh boy, here we go.

“Soooo,” she draws out the word, hands clasped together as she sways back and forth. Varian keeps his face carefully blank, tensing as he waits for the inevitable question. She taps her fingers twice more before she finally speaks. “How’s your day been?”

Oh, wait, that’s not what he was expecting.

“Fine, I guess—”

“And how are you and Landis getting along?”

God fucking damn it.

Varian groans, tilting his head back until it hits the stone back of the bench with a small thud. Rapunzel winces, patting his arm.

“That bad, huh?”

The alchemist can feel his nose wrinkling, his entire face scrunching together as he tries to find a diplomatic way to say what he needs to. He finally settles on something, though it’s not quite right.

“He’s… okay.”

Rapunzel bites at her lip, trying to hold back either a laugh or a grimace. Varian can’t figure out which.

“You can say what you want to,” she tells him, “I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

Ha, as if. She’d never do it out of malice, but if she knew exactly how miserable he already was, she’d surely stage a coup or something else drastic. But… her eyes are earnest, honest. Varian sighs: he knows that she’s just worried about him, probably feeling guilty in a way. Cutting out his loved ones isn’t going to do him any good.

“He’s not very fun to talk to,” Varian admits. “Kind of boring. He’s… very serious, about this whole thing. I don’t know, it feels awkward.”

She nods. The hand on his shoulder loops around to tug him into a half-hug. “Awkward like you just don’t know him yet, or awkward like he’s been saying something?”

Varian mulls it over, nibbling at his bottom lip. “Awkward like he’s treating this like a business transaction?” It comes out as a question. “Hm I— I guess I was hoping he might be a little more… friendly. Since we’re going to be. Uh. You know.”

Rapunzel nods. “I understand that,” she says, “maybe he just needs a bit longer to get used to everything, too. I’m sure both of you being under a lot of pressure to get along also isn’t helping.” She grumbles the last part; Varian knows she’s thinking about her father’s insistence on this deal working.

He sighs. Varian scratches idly at his cheek, not meeting her eye, thinking hard. “I…” he finally breaks the silence, “I never thought of it that way. I guess it’s a weird spot for both of us.”

“Give it a bit more time. You never know, maybe you two will find a common ground somewhere.” When he looks at her with a flat expression, she laughs. “Hey, it’s a long shot, but I said maybe.”

He can’t help but giggle when she tugs him into another hug. He hugs her back, this time, arms wrapping around her. Varian’s hip hurts from leaning on it to avoid Ruddiger, but his heart feels warm for the first time in days.

“I can give it another shot,” he says, “and I’ll try my best to make it work.”

“That’s more than we could ask for,” she replies. She pulls back and looks him in the eye, her expression serious. “But if he says anything you don’t like, you come right to me, okay? Just because he’s a Duke—”

“—Grand Duke.”

“—Whatever. Just because he’s got a fancy title, that doesn’t mean you don’t get a say, alright?”

Varian scratches at Ruddiger’s ears again, not quite meeting her eye. “I can take care of myself,” he assures her.

She pouts, punching his shoulder in jest. “Oh, I’m aware.” Her voice doesn’t even fluctuate, “But last time he was here, he called Pascal a newt; I just want to find an excuse to hit him.”

That does it. Varian bursts out laughing, wheezing as Rapunzel joins him. The seriousness of the moment dissipates, turning to dust as they giggle together. Rapunzel wipes a tear away, leaning over to bump their shoulders together.

“It’ll all work out,” she tells him, “just give it some time.”

Varian bumps her back, still smiling as she takes her leave. She rustles his hair when she passes him, laughing when he swats at her. Rapunzel’s footsteps are quiet against the tile, fading out as she disappears back into the castle. The alchemist sighs, brushing Ruddiger again.

“Give it some time,” he says quietly. “Yeah. I can try that.”

“I’d appreciate it, if you would,” a voice comes from behind. Varian twists in his seat, seeing Landis standing in the doorframe. Ah. Okay.

“Your Grace,” he says, standing from the bench. Landis steps forward— gods, he’s tall. At least a head and a half taller than Varian, and maybe a dozen stone heavier— and fixes Varian with an expectant look.

“Varian,” he greets. “I was wondering if you’d care to go on a walk around the castle together.”

Maybe you two will find a common ground somewhere…

Varian smiles hesitantly, nodding. “Sure,” he says, “that sounds nice.”

Easy way to get to know each other, he thinks to himself. It could be fun.

—————♪—————

It’s fucking awkward, is what it is.

Varian rubs at the back of his neck as they walk down the halls together, one covered in different vases and paintings from different countries. He doesn’t know one from the other— beyond blueprinting, he was never much of a connoisseur— but thankfully this little tour isn’t very in depth. Instead, he tries to make light conversation, his hands wringing together to fight the shaking trying to take over. Gods, it’s just a conversation, he needs to get a grip.

“So,” Varian starts, looking off to the side. A painting of a pair of birds looks back at him. “Um, how are you liking Corona, so far?”

Landis stares ahead, keeping an even pace. “It’s too hot.”

“Oh, well, I know that the lower levels are cooler, they’re not as fancy, but if you wanted we could—”

“No, thank you. Your king will take it as an insult.”

Shit. Right. Varian feels his face heat up, wincing at his own idiocy. Landis blinks once, his face smoothing over. The frown leaves, but it’s still not a smile— just less of a grimace.

“Sorry,” the Grand Duke says, “I’ve been told I’m blunt.”

“Oh, no, no, it’s— it’s fine.” Fuck, he keeps tripping over his words. “I’m just not used to all… this. I’m pretty bad at politics.”

Landis only tilts his head in agreement. “I am the same,” he admits. “Was always more suited for war, than diplomacy. But there are very few Songless in each generation; we become important because of that.”

Varian winces at the term. “Right,” he agrees. His future is ruined because he’s fucking Songless—

“But I hope we can at least be amicable.” Landis’ face quirks up then. It’s not quite a smile, still too stony and cold, but it could be, under the right lighting. “Seeing as we’ll be in close quarters soon enough.”

Varian laughs, awkwardly. Seven Hells, he hadn’t even thought of that, yet, let alone their impending future. The heat in his face gets worse.

“Anyways.” Landis stops, then, standing in front of one of the paintings. “While we may not be Soulmates, I’m sure we can at least find comradery in the silence. A lot more than our futures lay on the shoulders of this deal.” He turns back to the painting, looking it over. Varian mirrors him, grateful for the lull in conversation.

It’s an old one, from well before Frederick’s grandfather’s time, given to them from a kingdom far across the seas. Varian sighs, staring up into the painted scene of the god Apollo chasing the nymph, Daphne. Rapunzel had told him the story: one she’d read in her mythology books. He can’t help but sympathize. Turning into a tree wouldn’t be so bad, Varian thinks.

Because Landis is right, of course. With the rumbles of military activity in Equis, an alliance like the one presented is Corona’s only real hope at survival. If it falls through, so much more than Varian’s future will be ruined; war, regardless of who won, was always hell on either side. Varian sighs, shaking his head. He knows Rapunzel is furious about him having to take the fall for them all. It’s not fair— but it’s what has to happen. And it all flows back to one, singular problem.

“I never did hear it,” Varian admits quietly, “the Song. I was born without it.” He’s not sure why he’s extending this olive branch. Maybe to find that common ground Rapunzel had talked about. Maybe just to sate his own curiosity. Though he’s been all over Hell’s half-acres looking for someone to fix him, he’s never actually metanother Songless person. It makes him want to compare notes.

Landis’ eyes seem distant, his back straightening a little more. Varian fidgets, waiting for a reply—how the fuck did he mess this up already? The silence stretches just that bit too long, breaking into something awkward, before he speaks.

“I used to.”

Ah. Shit.

“I— I’m so sorry, you don’t have to tell me—”

“It’s fine.” Landis looks at him then, staring down the bridge of his nose. “I never knew her. One day I woke up and the Song was just… gone. I was around seventeen, at the time.” He laughs then, shaking his head. It sounds bitter. “Is it strange, to mourn someone you’ve never really known?”

Varian puzzles on it for just a second, before shaking his head. “I don’t think so,” he says. “You may not have met— her?— before, but she was still a part of your life. Our whole kingdom mourned Rapunzel for eighteen years, before she came back, and she was only the princess to us.” He turns to Landis, who’s looking away again. “Of course it’s natural to mourn her loss. I’m sorry I brought it up.”

Landis doesn’t look back to him, focusing in on Daphne’s painted face. She looks terrified, as she runs from Apollo. A rabbit, running from a wolf. The Grand Duke smiles then, a real one, but showing altogether too many teeth.

“You’re an interesting thing, Varian.” His voice makes a slight chill run up the alchemist’s spine. Landis spins on his heel and bows to him then, never breaking eye contact. “Though I must go to continue discussions with your King, I look forward to our next conversation. This one has been quite… enlightening.”

“Uh—”

“And before I forget, your King, Frederick, was saying that he planned on hosting a masquerade in the near future. I’ll be escorting you, so make sure to wear something other than red. It’ll clash.”

“Aren’t you supposed to ask me—”

“I just did. Again, no red.” Landis straightens his jacket, turning away. “Until next time.”

And just like that, Landis walks past him, in the direction they’d already come from. He moves fast, for such a big guy; he’s almost around a nearby corner when the alchemist realizes what’s happening. Varian blinks quickly, shaking himself and watching the man disappear behind the corner before Varian can get a word out.

“Right… okay, good talk.”

And Varian thought he was fucking weird. Maybe Landis had taken one too many jousting spears to the head.

Varian huffs out a rush of air, shaking his head. That was the conversational equivalent of slamming his own foot in a door, but at least this time he’d managed to keep from making a total ass of himself. Something still felt somewhat… off, though; like there’s something he’s missing, some feeling in his gut demanding he look harder.

Nerves? Maybe, though Varian’s not one to ignore his instincts on a whim. The alchemist sighs, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. Too much stress, not enough sleep: he’s probably going fucking crazy.

Fuck it, he’s going to the lab. He’s spent too long pretending that nothing was weird about this whole charade, he needs to go back to the land of textbooks and experiments. He’s spent too much time in the land of uncertainty—he needs something solid and quantifiable.

He needs some time to decompress.

—————♪—————

Hugo’s been put semi-in-charge of the plant thing. He doesn’t know exactly why; fucking Varian is the one who figured that shit out, and he’s the one who grew up in buttfuck nowhere growing corn or whatever. He should be the one testing soil acidity, that uppity fuck. If Varian wasn’t so busy with this whole thing with the Socrians, surely he’d be the one mixing together a bunch of useless compounds. But no, since Varian’s busy, Hugo’s the one stuck down here in this shitty lab with thirty shitty bean stalks in individual cups.

The raccoon had joined him about an hour ago, looking grumpy without his usual human. Varian’s pet had taken up residence on the table near Hugo, watching him with beady, judgmental eyes. So maybe it’s like Varian had never really left, actually.

Hugo stares right back at Ruddiger, pointing at him with a glass pipette.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” he asks, like the raccoon is going to reply. “Like, I don’t know, digging in garbage? Eating a rat? Something?”

Ruddiger blinks slowly before turning in little circles for a brief second and settling down with a huff. When Varian’s pet had entered the lab through a little pet door, Hugo had expected his royal pain in the ass to show up soon after, but he hadn’t.

So, it’s just been Hugo and the fucking trash panda this whole time.

Hugo sighs, letting his hand drop. He takes a test of the new compound, using the pipette to extract the correct amount before dropping it on a small beanstalk. It’s labeled with the number seventeen, the other sixteen set off to the side in little groups depending on what he’d boosted the soil with. The rest are to the side, awaiting their mixtures, lined up like little soldiers.

Hugo sighs, watching the blue liquid drip into the dirt, absorbing quickly. The Song’s been mostly quiet lately, subdued, and sad in a way that made Hugo’s heart heavy. Varian must be miserable, wherever he is… though Hugo’s still annoyed by having to pick up the slack he leaves behind. Babysitting a bunch of plants wasn’t really on his bucket list, but hey, at least it’s quiet…

Until Varian strolls in like he owns the place.

Okay, well technically it’s his lab, so he does, but that’s beside the point. Varian slumps into a chair like he hadn’t even registered Hugo’s presence, though from the exhausted expression on his face that absolutely might be the case.

“Oh, why hello there,” Hugo greets. “It’s about time you came back to help me with our children.” He holds up beanstalk seventeen by the pot, wiggling it gently and pitching his voice to be high and squeaky. “Father, why have you forgotten us?”

Varian blinks, squinting. The Song pauses for a second as Varian’s brain continues to chug along, before sparking into a rush of mirth. Varian, in turn, laughs, reaching over and taking the plant from him.

“Oh, I’m so sorry my son,” Varian coos, holding the plant close, “I’ve been so busy.” He goes so far to press a smooch to one of the leaves. Laughter bursts out of Hugo’s chest before he can stop it, ending in a wheeze that echoes around the lab. Varian’s voice joins him, a harmony that fills the room with glowing joy. It’s… it’s stunning.

Hugo has to take his glasses off, wiping at his eyes to chase away the laughter. The Song swells, burrowing into a little space under his heart and sending warmth through his chest. He’s never felt anything like this, the way Varian’s own laughter mixes with his own and amplifies it. Even without the Song to sing its joy, being able to let go and goof off is… well, it’s nice. He never got many chances, back home. Hugo laughs as his breath is stolen, gone for a terrifyingly exhilarating second.

Hugo sucks in air at last, overwhelmed. The Song is all encompassing, loud and amazing and terrifying and beautiful— the sunlight just catches Varian’s eye, making them twinkle. Hugo’s stomach swoops out from under him, but it’s not a bad feeling; just one of connection, of a puzzle piece slotting in place. The little click in his heart feels like coming home.

Which is fucking horrifying. The joy—one built by the Song demanding attention, no more no less—simmers right out, a dying ember under torrential rain. Because what the fuck is that about? He’s not some simpering fuck, no matter what his one-sided bond wants to demand of him. He takes Varian’s distraction to shake himself, shoving the Song to the back of his mind—where it fucking belongs.

The other alchemist finally settles, gasping for breath and completely ignorant of Hugo’s turn of thoughts.

“Oh, Sun help me,” Varian wheezes, putting the plant down. “I haven’t— Hugo, you can’t go being funny when I’m trying to sulk, you’ll ruin my whole thing.”

“Sorry, sweetcheeks,” the blond says. He needs to get this back to familiar waters—back to antagonism and pulling proverbial pigtails. “I see a sad face and I just have to fix it; you’ll have to get used to it.”

Varian fixes him with an unreadable look, something halfway between amused, calculating, and jubilant— Hugo, for once, doesn’t feel judged or like he’s being picked apart; Varian looks at him like a puzzle to be solved, one that the alchemist wants to fiddle with until he finds his answer. It’s exhilarating, the idea of this cat-and-mouse that’s slowly making itself known. C’mon, catch me.

A smile breaks out across Varian’s face, one that’s warm in so many wonderful ways.

“I think I could.” He says it lightly, leaning an elbow on the table to prop up his head, “Get used to it, I mean. Given enough time.”

Hugo opens his mouth to make another witty reply, to keep the game going, to listen—

A knock, at the door.

Varian perks up, looking at the door. The smile’s gone, slipping into something carefully blank. Hugo twists in his chair, his good mood vanishing when he sees who has interrupted them.

“Varian,” Landis says, his voice flat. He looms in the doorway, eyes slowly looking around the lab. For just the briefest second, his lips pinch, especially when he sees their current experiment. Hugo meets his dark eyes, refusing to look away. Landis’ eyes narrow, holding his stare for justlong enough for it to be weird, before he looks back to Varian. Hugo’s stomach boils, the previous joy solidifying into something hard and angry.

“If you’re not too busy,” their unwanted visitor says, “in about half an hour I’ll be meeting King Frederick and Queen Arianna in the garden for tea. I would like to request you come as well.”

Varian stiffens a bit, but he never falters. “Of course,” he says. “I’ll finish up here and meet you soon.”

Landis stands there for another agonizing second. His eyes meet Hugo’s one last time before he smiles, a baring of teeth. The thief’s jaw tenses— any tighter and he’ll crack a tooth— but Landis finally ends their suffering with a nod of his head, taking his leave.

Varian remains tense until the footsteps outside go quiet, a full minute of awkward, strained waiting. Hugo’s stomach is in knots, a flip-flopping feeling fumbling through his guts.

Once they’re finally alone again, Varian lets out a gusty sigh, bodily slumping. Hugo doesn’t look away from the door, his heartbeat so loud in his ears he barely registers anything else. His hands are shaking— why the fuck are his hands shaking—

A small kick, to his shin. Not enough to hurt, just to get his attention. Hugo’s head snaps around, eyes locking with Varian. The other teenager frowns at him, but from the furrow in his brow it’s obviously out of concern. Hugo sucks in a deep breath, trying to ignore the sudden urge to lunge.

Varian looks to the door, biting at his lip, before leaning closer to Hugo. He looks almost… nervous? Maybe not the word for it—something more like unnerved. It’s a new expression for sure, and not a happy one.

“Sun, he’s so weird,” Varian whispers. “Like, he’s weird, right?”

Hugo blinks, the words taking him by surprise, before he begins to snicker. “Oh, absolutely,” he agrees. “I think you’ve got your work cut out for you there, darling.”

Varian kicks him again, this time much harder. It’s definitely going to bruise. “Shut up!” he whines, but the trill of laughter in his voice is unmissable. “No, no you don’t get to laugh— stop, I swear I’ll throw our son at you!”

“Not Seventeen!” Hugo gasps, reaching for the plant and tugging it close. “He’s innocent, leave him alone!”

Varian cackles again, trying to reach for the plant, only to be foiled by Hugo’s long arms. The laughter that follows is almost enough to chase away the hard rock of dread that had settled in Hugo’s stomach. He, just for a bit, almost forgets what waits for them outside that door.

Almost.

[lokislittlesigyn]

Luck of the Dice - Loki x Reader [Oneshot]

Part 1 of Sigyn’s Angst-to-Fluff Drabbles

Inspired by Cozy’s Fluff-to-Angst Fun and Games!

Pairing: Platonic!Loki / gender neutral reader

Warnings: None. Except maybe some pillow fighting? Nobody gets hurt.

Author’s Note: This is probably very silly and underwhelming, but I hope it’s still enjoyable. Wanted to try writing something not-specifically-romantic. Romance is great! But you know what? Friendship is great too. <3

@lucywrites02:

A prompt for you 💔

"I lost everything and you're laughing!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It really shouldn’t have gone this far. 

Then again, when you and the god of mischief were left alone in the Avengers Compound for a weekend, what could anyone expect? After all, you and Loki were close friends. Or, as close as anyone could be with the god of mischief. He had a calm and collected demeanor, usually keeping to himself. Far from the alien god-king hellbent on destruction you’d been led to expect.

No, Loki was different. And, with most people, distant. He rarely (if ever) showed his more sensitive side to anyone - except, perhaps, for you.

So, on this weekend when most of the team was out on small missions, and Tony had gone with Pepper for a press conference on the other side of the country, you and Loki were left to your own devices. You’d spent the day alone for the most part, but eventually your friend found you, and though he didn’t say it, you could tell he was lonely. 

You decided a proper hangout session was in order. 

Eventually the ordered-in pizza was long since eaten, and a ridiculous romantic comedy you’d turned on just to hear Loki’s groans of frustration with the plot, long since watched. The two of you chatted for hours, until you suggested playing a game. Loki seemed intrigued, and agreed to play along - but not before declaring he would absolutely win. You responded with a playful scoff and “I’d like to see you try.”

Now you both sat on the floor in the main common area of the compound. Distant drones of the television, the volume of which was reduced to a whisper, sounded in the background. You sat cross-legged in your favorite pajamas, a blanket around your shoulders. Loki, clad in long, soft sweatpants and a dark green shirt you gifted him at last year’s holiday party, was settled across from you. He sipped tea from a mug - which Thor had given him at that same party. He never seemed to use it when Thor was around, but you knew it was his favorite. He was sentimental. You liked that about him.

You’d already explained the game’s rules, going through the ins and outs and technicalities, and giving him the chance to ask any questions. Although he hadn’t attended many Avengers “teamwork building” game nights, he must’ve been listening, because he caught on to the game exceptionally fast.

It all went downhill from there, however.

Okay, maybe introducing the god of mischief to Monopoly wasn’t your best idea -

But it wasn’t your worst idea either, and you’d stand by that.

Besides, most of the games at the compound were strictly for groups, and the others, far too risky. You were not about to open the Pandora’s box that was playing Uno with the god of mischief. 

The two of you played had already racked up properties and utilities. But the moment Loki’s top hat playing piece hit St. James’ Place, your heart sank. He’d completed another set.

“I believe that’s mine.” Loki motioned to the property card and smiled, handing over the appropriate play-money. 

You traded it for the card, grumbling slightly under your breath.

“What was that, my friend?” Loki snapped the card next to his three and a half complete property sets, along with his railroads… This just wasn’t fair.

“Nothing…” You huffed. But you still had a chance. You had Boardwalk and Park Place.

He had no idea what was coming.

“...Just thinking of how you’re going down.” You smiled.

Loki scoffed. “Oh, I’m quaking in my boots.”

The game continued. You built a few hotels, and felt much better about your prospects… Until Loki got hotels too. 

It’s fine! If he lands on those, you glanced at your completed red and pink property sets, along with your prized deep blues, He’s toast. I just need to make it past the orange…

You looked at the board. Gulped. 

Your poor little dog piece stood at the precipice of certain doom. Currently situated on the Electric Company, your own property, you had to roll just the right number to dodge Loki’s looming hotels. He really was ruthless.

“Any day now.” Loki smirked, pulling you from your thoughts.

“I was just thinking.” You shook the dice in your hands.

“Thinking?”

“Yeah. I do that sometimes.”

“Surprising.”

You glared at him, then rolled the dice, moving your piece to - New York Avenue.

Oh, no.

Loki held out an expectant hand. You grumbled, handing him a stack of money from your hand. You were dreadfully low on cash - maybe investing in all that property wasn’t the best strategy… But how else were you supposed to win? You had to win. If the team found Loki had beat you at any game, they’d never let you live it down. 

Loki rolled next, of course dodging your properties perfectly. Your next turn landed you on another one of Loki’s properties, and you forked over the necessary money with a grimace.

Loki merely chuckled, his fingers shuffling through the stack of paper to make sure everything was in order before filing them onto the plump stacks of fake bills before him. Then he rolled - dodging your properties again. You groaned out loud.

“Something wrong?” He smiled.

“No way you’re rolling so well.”

With a shrug, Loki sat back, watching you roll. “Luck of the dice, I suppose.”

“Some luck!” You rolled.

Pennsylvania Avenue.

Your fate was sealed.

Loki had bought the green properties first - of course he had - setting them up handsomely with full upgrades. You looked at the god across from you, and recognized in an instant how intensely frustrating his smug looks could be. His shoulders shook, his knuckles placed in front of his mouth.

Wait...

“You’re laughing?!” You exclaimed.

Loki chuckled, only half trying to hide it as he raised his hands in mock surprise. “Me? I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” he scoffed, but it was choppy with laughter.

“You are! You’re laughing!” Your face heated up. “I lost everything and you’re laughing!” You grabbed a nearby pillow, swinging it at him. He blocked it with his arm, shooting you a devilish grin.

“Oh, come on. What did you expect? I never lose!”

“Oh? Really? You never lose?”

“Never.” Loki smirked. You glared daggers at him, never relenting with your squishy weapon, though each blow was deflected by his arm “Woah- Hey. You’re awfully violent,” Loki chuckled, “Need to sit down?”

“Shut up!”

“Perhaps a rematch?”

“Not in this lifetime!” You laughed, chucking the pillow at him and returning to your previous spot. He grabbed it, snorting with indignance.

“Attacking me will get you nowhere, you know.” Loki held the pillow aloft, flashing you a smirk. “But then again, the first stage of grief is denial, eventually leading to acceptance-”

The next pillow you tossed hit Loki square in the face. Even he laughed, though not before tossing it back at you and hitting you in the chest - you chuckled, holding it to yourself.

“Now that I’ve demolished you in that silly game, why don’t we settle down?” Loki stretched, wiping his loose black curls back from his face. “It’s late.”

You checked the time - woah, when did it get that late? “Ah, yeah, you’re right. And you get cranky when you don’t sleep, so.” You stood, stifling a yawn.

“I beg your pardon?” Loki was standing across from you, his brow furrowed.

“What? You’re always grumpy after a bad night’s sleep. You are.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he snorted through his nose, though you noticed a twinge of humor in his expression. “You’re the one who’s grouchy in the mornings. Absolutely unbearable.”

“Oh, hush.”

Loki chuckled, settling onto the opposite couch. 

As you snuggled onto the couch underneath your blanket, you swore to yourself you’d never play against the god of mischief again. Then again, seeing him laugh and smile so genuinely almost balanced out the annoyance of losing… Maybe you could be partners in the next team game. You had a good chance of convincing him to join, after all. He seemed to trust you.

You looked over at him. Yes, Loki must’ve trusted you, because he was already asleep on the other couch with a serene expression. He looked so calm, so… Happy. You smiled to yourself.

Maybe losing was worth it after all.

[thatgirlwritingficsatnight]

Gift exchange

It’s Christmas Eve, and you’ve forgotten about your Christmas company party. Even worse you forgot to get a gift for the “not so secret Santa” - your company’s tradition. Wanna top it? Make it even worse? No problem. The person you were supposed to get a gift for? Your crush. Defsoul - the most talented, kindest and hottest person alive. What are you going to do now?

pairing: Lim Jaebeom (Defsoul) x reader

genre: smut, fluff, Jaebeom is a producer, Y/N is a manager

warnings: smut: daddy kink, light choking, ass play; foul language (please don’t read it if you’re not old enough)

words: 4989

A/N: TFW you try to write a GOT7 reaction, and you end up with one-shot. I know I’m kinda late with whole christmas theme but i wrote it last night and figured out I could post it anyway.

***

You barely got to shut your eyes before your alarm tore you up from your dreams. It was nine in the morning, and you went to sleep at six AM because of your work. You groaned as you shuffled in bed cursing your job, three hours of sleep was not enough for anyone. Being manager of K-pop girl group was hard enough but being the manager in December when there was award show after award show and festivals - that was a nightmare. To other people December was equal to Christmas, gifts, parties, New Year's Eve but to you, it was synonymous with constant state of tiredness, your biggest wish right now was to spent Christmas break alone, just you and your bed. You sighed as you dragged yourself to shower. Girls had only slept for 5 hours, and you felt bad for them — not only were they invited to each award show that existed they also just have had a comeback. You could see how exhausted they were and yet your superiors still pushed for them to go to some stupid TV show on Christmas Eve. You got yourself ready and went to pick them up and get them to set.

The recording went smoothly, and you were already daydreaming about coming home early and passing out on your bed. It was six PM already, but you still had to drive girls home and step into the office for a bit. You sighed you'd be home eight PM at best - well it was still better than coming home at two or three AM. You were about to go and thank everyone for their hard work when your phone vibrated. It was your best friend and coworker.

"Hey Inha. What's up?"

"I wanted to check if you remember about the company party tonight."

You hit your forehead and groaned.

"OMG! You forgot! Have you bought a gift at least?"

"No..." you whined. You wanted to die. You had so much work lately that you've absolutely forgotten about that party — it was for staff only and each year you'd drew lots to pick the person you were supposed to give a gift to. It wasn't even secret Santa your boss simply came to conclusion that gift exchange would help out with forming friendships...

"Girl... Do you at least remember who you drew?"

Of course you remembered. How could you not. This was your lucky year, you got Defsoul the hottest, kindest and most talented person working for your label. You had a small crush on him since that day he gave up his coffee for you. You were falling asleep standing while girls were recording their vocals, and he chuckled at you before telling you to sit by him and drink some coffee. It probably meant nothing to him but that was one of the most stressful weeks in your life, and you weren't sleeping at all during that time — ITZY were about to make a debut, and you couldn't stop worrying over it. You remember how touched you were by this simple gesture, after all no one ever gave you coffee, usually you were the one getting it for other people. His looks certainly didn't help with your hopeless crush. He was H O T and not even simply hot, more like "I-look-like-an-idol" hot. He had a black mullet, piercing under his eye, he also had his nose and ears pierced to make matters worse for you he also had most hypnotizing almost feline-like eyes. Honestly you wondered why didn't he become an idol with a face and talent like that. After that one time, he would buy you a coffee whenever he had seen you and you two became somewhat close - you'd swing over his studio when girls had to train and talk about everything and nothing. He told you about his cats, his favorite restaurants, his passion for taking pictures and well you mostly told him about your job since you basically didn't have any private life - it really felt pathetic. He even took your photo once - telling you that the picture would help him later when he would be looking for inspiration (it is a mystery till this day how you haven't fainted that evening). One day you were waiting for girls to finish up their dance practice and fell asleep on one of the benches — it was difficult day for you since you haven't slept for twenty hours already (you had to fight off some crazy sasaengs and didn’t sleep whole night keeping an eye on their dorm — some would say you were overdoing it, but to you members of ITZY were like your little sisters). You woke up in his studio on his couch. He carried you there while you were asleep and tucked you in, covering you with his jacket. You were extremely embarrassed, apologetic and thankful at the same time. He chuckled at you before saying that it was okay and forced you to promise that you'd oversleep to work the very next day. Inha claimed he had a crush on you since he never treated her with the same kindness or anyone really. But you knew better, he was a good colleague. A good, extraordinarily attractive colleague you wanted to kiss and lick and...

"Hello? Earth to Y/N??" your friend snapped you from your thoughts.

"I have to go Inha! Thank you for reminding me! Love you!" You checked the time, there was no way you'd manage to drive girls back, buy a gift, get ready for a party and do all that without being late. You sighed you will have to improvise. You drove off girls and came back rushing straight to your apartment. The party started at 10 PM and you had to shower, somehow fix your sleep-deprived face and figure out how you're going to apologize to Def... You were home a few minutes before 8 rushing into your bedroom - at least you knew what you were going to wear. That would be the most expensive, or more like the only expensive piece of clothing you had — a birthday gift from girls. It was an oversized tuxedo jacket from Alexander Wang and you haven't worn it yet. You tried it on, it had quite deep cleavage, and exposed a lot of your legs, but you figured it would be ok for tonight. You smoothed out black velvety material before stepping out of it. You still had to shower and do your makeup. An hour later you were looking at yourself in the mirror — the mask Inha got you really helped out with bags under your eyes. You did good with makeup as well: it was soft brownish smoky eye, orange toned lipstick and some shimmers here and there — you actually looked healthy and well rested (a true Christmas miracle really). You looked even better after getting in your outfit — Ryunjin was right, the tuxedo like dress fitted your vibe. You even wore some black heels which didn't often happen since you always chose comfort over looks when at work.  

Fortunately you got to the party on time even though you couldn't catch a taxi for twenty minutes or so. People inside were already mingling and drinking, and you decided to grab something to drink before looking for Def. You located a small table with champagne in the corner of the room. You downed two glasses as quick as you got there, and were already grabbing a third one when a voice spoke up startling you so much you jumped a little.

"Rough day?" Defsoul was standing next to you, whiskey in his hand, smirking at you. You immediately blushed and gawked at him. He was so handsome it was simply unfair. This man clearly woke up today and chose violence. He was wearing a silky black shirt — and it was quite unbuttoned, so you had a chance of seeing his broad chest (you were currently having a heart attack), and slacks he also styled his hair so that his forehead was exposed with one defiant streak of hair falling onto his brow bone. You wanted to groan. You fucked up — this could've been your chance to get him to like you more...

"Y/N? Are you alright?" he was genuinely concerned, and here you were, basically salivating and staring at him like a starved, nasty man. That was so embarrassing. You cleared your throat and looked away.

"Yeah, sorry. I'm just really tired today..." He smiled at you warmly, and you wanted to punch yourself for not getting him something, anything.

"That's great!" You gave him a confused look, and he bit his lip nervously while scratching the back of his head. He was so cute you could kiss him. Well to be fair you felt like you could kiss him any time. Why...why did you have to forget that bloody gift...

"I mean it's not great that you're tired... It's just… ah, shit I suck at this. Here." He handed you a plastic card, and you read it absolutely puzzled. Lifetime pass for coffee with Jaebeom — it also had a cute chibi character that looked just like Def, except it had some cat ears.

"Now you can get coffee whenever you want. I mean I know you can have it whenever you want anyway, I just thought that maybe you'd like someone to get it with... I mean get it for you… It's ok if you don't like it really, oh by the way I'm Jaebeom, I don't know if I already told you my real name or not…" he was rambling, and you were screaming inside your head. That was so cute. So kind. You wanted to hug him and kiss him so badly. "Ah, shit. I really do suck at this." he said more to himself than to you. You finally looked at him and grinned.

"I love it." you said and his eyes turned into big orbs before light pink colored his cheeks.

"You do?"

"I do. It's a perfect gift." you smiled, your heart swelled with happiness. You could technically go on a date with him whenever you felt like with this handy piece of plastic. That is if he wouldn't start to hate you in the next few minutes for forgetting his present.

"I'm glad." he grinned and it took your breath away. How come he was so perfect? You got even more nervous looking at the gift from him.

"Ah... I was your not so secret Santa as well…" you started.

"Really? So what did you get me?" he was genuinely interested, and you wanted to go back in time and kill yourself for forgetting about this party. You looked up. His eyes were gleaming with curiosity — you were fucked.

"It's me! I'm your gift!" you joked and looked down to cover your nervousness. You were about to say that it was just a stupid joke and apologize before he spoke up.

"I love it." his voice was deeper than normally, and you looked up shocked by it. He was checking you out, his hungry eyes traveling up and down. You've never seen him like that. You could feel warmth spreading on your cheeks under his intense stare, a tight knot forming somewhere near your core in excitement.

"Y-you do?" your voice faltered, and he chuckled while moving closer to you. He smelled musky with a hint of citrus. Your legs were about to collapse under you.

"I do." he hummed he was so close you could feel the warmth radiating from him. His hand brushed against yours as he bent down to reach your ear. You were sure your skin was burning where he touched you. "So, tell me Y/N, when can I unwrap you?" his tone was dark and dangerous and when he straightened up you've seen this gleam in his eyes as he smirked. Your legs felt like made from putty and you'd collapse if his hand weren't already wrapped around your waist. You couldn't believe it was happening. Your heart was beating so hard it was about to spring off your chest — you were wondering if he could hear it. You certainly could even though blood ringed in your ears. You felt your throat going dry and your panties getting moist.

"Def…" you started weakly. Shocked by your own voice — it sounded so needy.

"Call me Jaebeom.." he purred. "Would you like to go to my place? I don't think I can wait any longer to enjoy my gift…" You quavered from excitement, his voice was laced with a promise of sleepless night.

"Yes, let's go." you said and he smiled at you. You were sure you lost any oxygen you still had in your lungs at that moment. His hand left your waist, and you wanted to catch it and wrap yourself with it again. Instead, he grabbed your hand and interlocked your fingers with his, smiling at you sweetly before he led you outside. You couldn't focus on anything else, but his fingers wrapped around yours. His hand was warm, and he held you firmly, his skin soft and delicate. You managed to quickly catch a taxi and through whole drive Jaebeom's hand lazily travelled up and down your thigh. His gentle fingers sending sparks to your core every time he brushed the inside of your leg. You glanced at him, eyes filled with desire — he shivered, and it made you feel a different kind of excitement — you didn't know that you had this kind of effect on him. You got out of the taxi and his hand was instantly on yours, he was almost dragging you skipping every other step as he rushed upstairs to his apartment. He opened the door and let you in. Immediately three cats came in and brushed against your legs. You smiled softly.

"They like you.." Jaebeom murmured against your neck while taking off your coat for you, you gasped at the feeling, and he released low chuckle before he started planting soft kisses against your neck — each time his lips touched your skin your muscles clenched with anticipation. You couldn't wait any longer. You turned around and looked at him, his eyes were glued to your lips and excitement bubbled somewhere below your stomach.

"I waited so long for this..." he started but never got to finish as your lips were on his in a second. Even his lips felt like cotton, and you sighed against him when he kissed you back. He was clearly enjoying slow kisses. You grew impatient once again and licked his lower lip, he gave you access you asked for, and your tongue brushed against his hungrily. You could already feel how wet you were, arousal making your panties stick to you painfully. Jaebeom's hand travelled around your back dropping dangerously low now and then but never grabbing you — you really wanted him to hold you and take you roughly. Once again you grew impatient this night. You took his lower lip in between your teeth, you bit it hard and moaned. That seemed to make him lose his cool, he let out a growl that travelled straight to your core.

"Bad girl..." he said before he turned you around and pushed you against the wall so that your back was facing him. His tongue already on your earlobe, you sighed and shivered when he licked it and let out breaths against wet, sensitive skin. "I wanted to take it slowly, but you're so eager, so impatient…" he was purring into your ear, and you were aching down there more and more with each syllable.

"Jaebeom..." you moaned as you pressed your ass against him. He sucked some breath in when you pushed down against his hard length, his body working on its own accord, one hand already on your hips pressing you harder when the other one cupped your breast. This is not how he envisioned tonight, he thought that he'd at best confess his feelings not have you here crumbling in his hands while moaning his name. Your hips bucked against his by itself as soon as you felt how hard he was. His hand grabbed your clothed breast, and you regretted wearing anything. You wanted to feel him against you naked skin not through layers of clothing.

"Jaebeom-ah..." you moaned his name again, and he rewarded you with sucking on your neck — it was painful yet pleasant, and you almost forgot what you wanted to say before he licked the fresh mark and kissed it. "Didn't you say you wanted to unwrap me?" You said in weak voice still affected by his mouth on your neck. He laughed against your skin, and you thought that's how paradise would sound like.

"You really are impatient... do you want me to fuck you so bad?" he asked rubbing into you, his dick almost in pain from the friction.

"Yes...please..." you panted out, and he let out some animalistic sound upon hearing how needy you were. He made you face him and unbuttoned your tuxedo-like-dress before he tossed it somewhere behind him. You shivered under his stare. He pulled you into him and his hands immediately travelled to your ass, grabbing it and lifting you up without effort. He began kissing your jaw, neck, collarbones, and you tilted your head, so he could have better access. He carried you to his bedroom and laid you down carefully on the mattress before he took a step back. His sheets smelled just like him, and you sighed in pleasure, sinking deeply into his fragrance. He bit his lip seeing you in his bed, wearing nothing but lacy underwear. However, you didn't want just lay and wait, you got up and reached out to his own shirt undoing the buttons hastily, but he didn't let you, he was in control. He held your hands and pushed you back on bed. You bounced and your hair created a sort of crown, spreading around your face — it emphasized your features even more, and Jaebeom felt as if he was making love to some kind of goddess. Your lips, eyes, hair, body everything was perfect. He wanted to taste you already.

"You need to ask me nicely." He smirked at you and you pouted a bit before a mischievous gleam appeared in your eyes. You let one of the straps fall from your shoulder and gave him an innocent look before taking off the other one as well. Just one move and Jaebeom would see your torso naked. He bit his lip unintentionally, when you pushed your breast closer while also moaning.

"Pleeeaaase... undress already and fuck me... daddy." He groaned - you'd be the end of him. He quickly tore any clothes that were on him leaving only his boxers on, and you stared him down hungrily. Saying he was beautiful was and understatement. He was perfect. His skin was light and smooth, it gleamed in the moonlight that illuminated the room through a small window located right above the headboard. It was still dim, but you could clearly see the outline of muscles on his stomach, and a tempting v line, waiting for you to be licked on his abdomen.

"Take off your bra." he ordered and you obediently followed. His eyes devoured your glistening breasts, two darker beads already hard and inviting him in. He licked his thumb and brushed it against your nipple watching intently for your reaction. You didn't disappoint him as you arched your back hungry for his touch. He took another one into his mouth, his tongue making circles around it for what felt like forever. The sound of his wet licks and your quickened breath feeling the silence of the room. You squeezed your legs looking for any kind of release, it didn't help much. Your core was aching and since you could only wait for him to bring you pleasure you closed your eyes and focused only on the sole path of his tongue. It was almost like a torture and Jaebeom seemed to enjoy it greatly, lazy licks, circles around your nipples, blowing cold air on them to hear your whines. And so when he finally sucked on your swollen nipple you moaned his name so loudly his neighbors could hear you. His dick twitched in his boxers. He couldn't wait for much long either, you were the most beautiful person he ever saw, and you were squirming under him, waiting for him to fuck you. He was honestly shocked he didn't take you against that wall in his hall when you pushed your ass against him. He smirked at you, he haven’t even fucked you yet and you were already having this kind of expression. His lips travelled from your breast lower and lower before his face hovered above your panties, hot breath on your wet, clothed pussy sending you almost over the edge. You looked down at him, his eyes were full of lust. He was so beautiful you felt like it was just a dream, not reality. When he pressed his nose against your wet folds you moaned again. He inhaled it a few times as if it was the most ravishing smell in the world.

"You smell so good I might go crazy." He actually was going crazy as his cock let out a bit of pre-cum only upon him smelling your pussy.

"Daddy... please..." you pleaded looking him in the eyes, he couldn't take it any longer. In one swift move he tore the panties off you, they were soaked, and he sniffed them one last time before throwing them out.  He took off his own underwear, and knelt between your legs his cock in his hand already.

"You're so wet for me. Such a good girl, I'm going to fuck you so good." he purred out, and you could go off his words only. He put on condom quickly and teased your entrance before sliding into you slowly. He was watching your face intently as he didn't want to cause you pain.

"Just don't move for a second, you're so big I need to get used to the stretch." It was painful a and pleasant at the same time - the way he filled you up. He didn't buck his hips as you asked, instead he kissed your lips, your jaw, neck, and you kissed him back with passion. Soon he started rocking into you and you moaned into his mouth.

"Harder." you managed to say between the panting and kissing. He straightened up and increased the tempo, sweat building on his forehead.

"Harder..." you said and his hand went to your throat while he almost crushed into you. He choked you lightly, and you felt the orgasm building already.

"Daddy... harder..."

"You dirty girl. On all fours." You obediently followed his order and soon he was fucking you doggy style, his hand spanking you lightly. "You like that? You like when daddy takes you hard?" His voice was so low you shivered under him.

"Yes, daddy." you moaned out when his huge dick filled you with each thrust.

"You're so dirty and good to your daddy. I will reward you and play with your other hole." Before you could say anything he spat on your ass and his finger danced around the other entrance. Just that was enough for you to see white. Your toes curled and your head went back, you screamed his name like it was the only thing keeping you alive, and you could feel how he twitched inside you when you clenched around him in orgasm spasm.

"Y/N, ah... I'm cumming, I'm…" he said through gritted teeth while pounding into you. You both reached your highs and fell onto the bed. He discarded the condom and started kissing your back lazily.

"Do you want to shower together?" he asked.

"Yes, but I don't think I have enough energy to go for another round…" you said while turning his way. He was looking at you lovingly, his expression completely fucked out. He was beautiful, the most handsome you've ever seen him actually. You sighed when his fingers brushed off hair from your face in sweet gesture.

"That's ok, I'll just shower you and we can go to sleep." You nodded, and he took your hand and guided you to his bathroom. He switched on the shower and pulled you under the water when it was warm already. He was so delicate with you, soaping your body, shampooing your head. You smiled at him warmly, and he chuckled.

"You're really cute." he said with a smile after making and weird shapes out of your shampooed hair.

"Stop it, I'll blush." you said while getting under the water, he was quickly spooning you, kissing your back almost with devotion.

"Good, you're even cuter when you blush."

You both towelled yourself dry and Jaebeom even brushed your hair for you before pulling you back to bed. You cuddled your face into his chest and he closed his arms around you. You didn't know if it was one-night stand only, but you'd worry about your possibly broken heart in the morning since his scent was already inviting you to the dreamworld.

You woke up to some rumbling. You opened your eyes and shot up, fear washing over you — that wasn't your bedroom. Memories of last night came next, and you fell back to the sheets squealing quietly into his pillow. That's when the realization hit you. What if it was just one-night stand, and you were rolling around his bed happily in love like an idiot? You sighed but before you could do anything, the man in question came to the bedroom smiling at you warmly.

"You finally woke up sleepyhead." He sat next to you and bend down to kiss your cheek. You looked down. "What's wrong? Have I done something?" He looked concerned.

"I.. no." You said sitting up, and he raised his brow on you. Ugh, he was looking great wearing a plain gray hoodie. You sighed.

"Was that one just for one night? If it was a one-night stand tell me now before I do something stupid."

"One-night stand?" He looked at you offended. "One-night stand?! Do you even know for how long I've been crushing on you? It was few years of my desperate attempts to ask you out, buying you coffee, looking for you constantly. Hell, I even made Yugyeom exchange the stupid lottery draw with me, so that I could give you that card. I actually thought that would helped me out with asking you out. One-night stand?! Jesus, Y/N, he made me basically his slave for a day, and you're asking me if it's one-night stand?" He was angry, and you looked at him shocked, you have never seen him like that. "Do you want this to be one-night stand?!" he raised his voice again.

"No!" you answered him immediately.

"No?! Great, then you can... wait you said no?" He cleared his throat, and you could actually see him smiling like an idiot before he cleared it again. "Well… good because I made us lunch already, and it would go to waste otherwise." He tried to act cool. You giggled at him and pushed him down before sitting on top of him.

"You're cute." You said and he blushed looking away.

"I'm not."

"Yes you are. You are the cutest actually." He groaned in response getting even more red, and you giggled once again. It was the first time you got him to blush so much, usually it was just light pink appearing on the apples of his cheeks. You kissed his face leaving pecks all over it, he chuckled before speaking again.

"I don't want this to be one-night stand. I like you I was actually planning on asking you out yesterday."

"You were?"

"I was. So would like to go out with me?" he wiggled his brows at you and you grinned before nodding.

"Mmm. I'd love to." you answered and he pulled you for a lazy kiss.

"Come, I prepared some food for you. It's hardly festive, but it's something"

"I'm sure it's great. I just need to put something on myself first."

"You can have my hoodie and sweats." he said while looking through his cabinet. "Here." He handed you clothes and blushed once again mumbling that he will wait for you in the kitchen. He got embarrassed — that was just too cute.

You slipped in his clothes, his smell wrapping around you. You got out of the bedroom only to be greeted by three cats purring and brushing against your legs. You smiled and petted them, scratching them on their chins. Jaebeom was just standing and staring at you, still not believing his luck. You were wearing his blouse, it was hanging on you like a dress basically and his heart ached at this picture. You looked up and grinned.

"They like me!"

"I'm pretty sure they're going to like you more than they like me." He chuckled. "Now come, let's eat."

You nodded and entered his kitchen, there was kimchi jjigae and rice prepared for both of you. You smiled and sat down already salivating because of the delicious smell.

"Merry Christmas Y/N." He said looking up from his dish.

"Merry Christmas Jaebeom." You smiled at him lovingly. "So what did Yugyeom made you do?"

"Don't even ask." He said and you giggled. Let's just say you didn't get to spend the Christmas break alone in the bed like you wished.

[angelicamerlinbarnes]

Okay but like I feel like Diego is the kind of person to flirt with really bad pick-up lines and Klaus is just Not Having It

featuring: Diego being a flustered Mama's boy and Klaus being a disaster dumbass and the two of them being completely in love with each other anyway

DISCLAIMER: None of the pick-up lines are mine, but the responses and ensuing shenanigans are :)

(there's fifty of these so buckle up kids :) sorry not sorry <3)

seriously though some of these are really bad

#1: He A Snack

Diego: Baby, you belong in the vending machine because you’re a snack.

Klaus: Diego you know I’m claustrophobic.

Diego: Don’t you mean Klaus-trophobic??? *finger guns*

Klaus: *blinks*

Klaus: I want a divorce.

#2: I’m From Hell

Diego: Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?

Klaus: I’m a veteran addict and abuse victim who can see ghosts, Diego.

Klaus: Everything hurts.

#3: Animal Puns

Diego: *points to TV screen playing the Discovery Channel* Hey Klaus.

Diego: You’re my otter half.

Klaus: Diego those are meerkats.

#4: Stars

Diego: The stars are beautiful tonight.

Klaus: Yup.

Diego: You know who else is beautiful?

Klaus: Ben.

#5: Get Out Your Handcuffs Mister

Diego: You’re under arrest… for stealing my heart.

Klaus: Diego you got kicked out of the police academy like five years ago, just give up.

#6: Bad Boys

Diego: *leaning against the doorframe like a moron* So. I hear you like bad boys.

Klaus: Diego you cried because you accidentally stepped on a bee last week.

Diego: Well yeah but -

Klaus: You held a funeral for it. You made us all speak. You had Allison fly in from California. It was a fucking bee, Diego.

Diego: … I wear leather?

Klaus: So does every other kid who shops at Hot Topic. You’re not special.

#7: Prince Charming

Diego: Your knight in shining armor is here -

Klaus: One, that’s a turtleneck, not armor.

Klaus: Two, you’re covered in blood. That’s the opposite of shiny.

Klaus: Three, you smell like dead fish. Go take a shower.

#8: Chemistry

Diego: Did we have a class together? Because I could’ve sworn we had -

Klaus: Chemistry? Yup. Also English and math and foreign languages and history and like every other fucking thing because we grew up in the same sadistic boarding school, Diego.

#9: The Store Can’t Just Give Away Things For Free. That’s A Terrible Way To Run A Business.

Diego: I like your pants.

Klaus: Thanks. I got them out of a dumpster. And yes, you can have them 100% off.

Diego: *voice cracks* Really?

Klaus: No.

#10: Boyfriend Material

Diego: My jeans are made of -

Klaus: You’re wearing leather pants Diego.

Diego: Okay but -

Klaus: So they’re made of leather and they’re not fucking jeans.

#11: Digits

Diego: I lost my phone number. Can I have -

Klaus: None of us have phones, Diego.

Diego: I can… buy us some?

Klaus: Fine. I want my number to be 1-420-420-4201.

Diego: Baby no.

Klaus: *pulling out the puppy dog eyes* Pwetty pwease?

Diego: Fine, but mine’s gonna be 1-696-969-6969.

Klaus: I love you so much. Marry me. Have my babies.

#12: Love At First Sight

Diego: Do you believe in love at first sight or -

Klaus: If I did I’d have already fallen in love with a lot of hot ghosts.

Diego: - should I walk by again?

Klaus: You’ve been pacing for the past ten minutes, Gogo. I think if it was gonna happen it would’ve by now.

#13: You Have Fine Written All Over You

Diego: Are you a parking ticket? Cause -

Klaus: Diego I can’t drive.

#14: His Eyes Are Green Not Blue You Dipshit

Diego: Your eyes are an ocean, and I’m lost at sea.

Klaus: ... can’t you, like, hold your breath forever?

Diego: *blinks* Baby, I love you, but you’re ruining this with our childhood trauma.

Klaus: Well since you’ve refused therapy I just thought this was the next best option.

Diego: I take back what I said about loving you.

#15: Math Is Dumb And I Wish School Would Stop Teaching It

Diego: Are you a forty-five degree angle?

Klaus: Actually, because humans have non-linear body shapes, it’s impossible for their specific angles to be measured -

Diego: Are you high or have you been defiling Five’s books again?

Klaus: *blinks* Why can’t it be both?

Diego: *rethinking life decisions*

#16: Baby I’m All Yours

Diego: Do you have a name?

Klaus: Klaus.

Diego: Or can I call you mine?

Klaus: I mean I prefer “baby”, but sure.

Diego: *super wide eyes* Really?

Klaus: *melts into a puddle of glitter* Yeah, Gogo.

#17: (Not) Bookworms

Diego: Thank god I brought my library card. Cause I’m here to check you out.

Klaus: *through a mouthful of waffles* God isn’t real. We all die and rot beneath the earth to be eaten by maggots. There is no such thing as a higher power.

Klaus: *swallows waffles and takes a really loud slurp of an orange juice and chocolate milk combo*

Klaus: Oh, and the library’s closed for renovations til, like, Christmas so you’re outta luck, sorry.

Diego: I thought you met god? Little girl on a bicycle?

Klaus: Her? Nah, only Satan’s got that much sass. Plus, that wasn’t heaven.

Diego: And you know this how?

Klaus: *squishes Diego’s face with both hands* Think about it. Do you really think dear ol’ dad’s in heaven?

Diego: Can you let of my face please?

#18: Bad Move, Buddy

Diego: Are you a pre-historic fossil? Cause you’re my missing link.

Klaus:

Klaus:

Klaus:

Klaus: Did you just call me old?

Diego, backing out of the room slowly: What? No! No of course not! No, obviously no, absolutely not -

Klaus: *releases savage war cry*

Diego: *runs for his goddamn life*

#19: I Rate This 0/10

Diego: Are you from Tennessee? Cause you’re the only -

Klaus: I don’t know where I’m from. I’m an orphan.

Diego: Oh… I know, baby -

Klaus: And the piece of shit that adopted me lived in New York anyway. We’re in New York right now actually. Do you need a geography lesson? I think Pogo’s got a map -

Diego: Klaus.

#20: Oh Shit

Diego: If nothing lasts forever, will you be my nothing?

Klaus:

Klaus:

Klaus:

Klaus: *tears up* I’m nothing?

Diego: Oh no. No no no. No, baby, you’re not nothing, don’t cry, I’m so sorry, that’s not what I meant, baby - oh my god please don’t cry -

#21: You’ve Got Everything I’m Searching For

Diego: Is your name Google? Because -

Klaus: Diego. For the last time…

Klaus: My name is Kimberly Linda Aerealia Ulysses Saffron Hargreeves the Twenty-Fourth. I don’t know why I need to keep explaining this to you -

Diego, kissing him quiet: You’re my favorite person in the world, you know that?

#22: Don’t Make Bets You’ll Lose, Luther.

Diego: Luther bet me a hundred bucks I couldn’t talk to the prettiest person here. How do you wanna spend his money?

Klaus: Drugs.

Diego: Baby -

Klaus: *beams* Nah, I’m just kidding. Stuffed giraffes.

Diego: *grins* For Five?

Klaus: *nods* For Five.

Diego:

Klaus:

Diego: He’ll hate them.

Klaus: Exactly. Let’s go.

#23: Deja Vu

Diego: Have we met before?

Klaus: Yes. Obviously. Are you also high?

Diego: No -

Diego: Wait, you’re high?

Klaus:

Diego:

Klaus:

Diego:

Klaus: No?

#24: Such An Optimist

Diego: Are you a time traveller?

Klaus: No, that’s Five.

Diego: Cause I think you’re my future!

Klaus: *stares blankly*

Diego: No? Nothing? Nada?

Klaus: In the future we’re all dead dipshit.

Klaus: Because. Ya know.

Klaus: THERE’S A FUCKING APOCALYPSE COMING.

Diego:

Diego: Okay then.

#25: Please Go To The Hospital.

Diego: Are you my appendix? Cause my stomach’s fluttering and I think I should take you out.

Klaus:

Klaus: Did you drink water from the fish tank again?

Diego: *turning green* Luther dared me to okay???!!!!

#26: Suicidal Tendencies

Diego: Hey gorgeous -

Klaus: Let me guess. I should drop dead?

Diego: What?! No! Baby -

#27: Infinitely On The Naughty List (And Not The Good Kind Of Naughty List (If There Is One I’m Asexual I Don’t Know))

Diego: Are you Santa Klaus? Cause you make all my wishes come true.

Klaus:

Klaus:

Klaus:

Klaus: You have five seconds to run.

Diego: *already two streets away* Fucking shit -

#28: You Can’t Use That Every Time We Have An Argument, Tony.

Diego: Kiss me if I’m wrong, but dinosaurs still exist right?

Klaus: I mean, there’s one in the corner of our living room right now, so I guess?

Diego:

Diego:

Diego:

Diego: *squeaks* You - you can see dinosaur ghosts?

Klaus: I mean, there’s a chance that thing Ben’s petting is just a super deformed ostrich, but yeah, I think so.

Diego:

Diego:

Diego:

Diego: *tearing up* That’s so cool.

#29: A Whole New Kind Of Thirst Trap

Diego: I’m thirsty. But guess whose body is 75% water?

Diego: *smirks*

Klaus: *frowns*

Klaus: Hold on, I know this one…

Diego: Klaus -

Klaus: *snaps fingers* Oh, I know! Luther!

Diego: *horrified* What the fuck Klaus why the fuck would you say that -

#30: What A Tragedy

Diego: You must be a campfire. Because you’re super hot and I want s’more.

Klaus:

Klaus: Diego sweetheart, you’re allergic to marshmallows.

Diego: *tearing up* I know.

Klaus: You wanna hug, baby?

Diego: *crying* Yes please.

#31: That Can’t Be Allowed

Diego: Don’t tell me if you want me to take you out to dinner. Just smile for yes, or do a backflip/somersault/counter-spin gymnastics combination for no.

Klaus: *smirks*

Klaus: *does a triple flip and lands perfectly on the top of the bar counter*

Diego: *turns bright red* That was h-h-hot.

Klaus: *beams and jumps down into Diego’s arms bridal-style*

Klaus: *kisses his cheek* I know, baby.

#32: Merry Christmas

Diego: You’re the reason Santa started the Naughty List.

Klaus: *blinks*

Klaus: *pouts*

Klaus: No fair! He told me last week I was on the Nice List!

Diego: What? Klaus? What does that -

Diego: OH MY GOD KLAUS IS SANTA DEAD???!!!!

#33: I’ll Keep You Safe, Honey.

Diego: I lost my teddy bear. Will you sleep with me instead?

Klaus: *pulls out a stuffed tiger*

Klaus: He got lost in the kitchen. Don’t worry, I rescued him for you.

Diego: *takes soft tiger*

Diego: *voice cracks* Oh. Thanks.

Klaus: *kisses his forehead* You’re welcome, baby.

#34: Excuse Me?

Diego: The only thing your eyes haven’t told me is your name.

Klaus, internally: Shit. What if he finds out I stole like five of his knives and all of the cookies last week?

Klaus, externally: *blinks*

Klaus: Um… Stefonopolis?

#35: I Am Not Apologizing For This One

Diego: If you were a steak, you’d be well done.

Klaus: But I’m so unique…

Klaus: I talk to the dead, Diego.

Diego: Okay…?

Klaus: *smirks*

Klaus: So wouldn’t I be medium rare?

Ben: Ooooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

#36: Leonardo Da Vinci Was Arrested Multiple Times For Homosexual Activity.

Diego: Is this a museum? Cause you’re a work of art.

Klaus: *dancing to the soundtrack of High School Musical 3* Actually Five took me back to Italy once. Leonardo da Vinci and I had some fun.

Diego:

Diego: Oh my god. Seriously?

Diego: *looks up picture of Mona Lisa, now titled Mona Klausa*

Diego: How the fuck -

#37: Why Would You Say That Though

Diego: Am I sleepwalking? Cause I’ve only seen you in my dreams.

Klaus: *sitting on the counter and eating a donut in one bite* Are they dirty?

Luther: *chokes on a pickle*

Diego: Oh my god no -

Diego: Well sometimes -

Diego: I mean no of course not -

Luther: *praying to whoever’s up there to just kill him already*

#38: Be Safe Kids!

Diego: Can you hold this for me?

Klaus: Sweetie, you need to wash your hands.

#39: Apocalypse Averted!

Diego: If looks could kill, you’d be a weapon of mass destruction.

Klaus: *blinks*

Klaus: I thought that was Vanya.

Diego:

Diego, panicking: Holy shit Klaus you can’t just say things like that -

Vanya: *crying from laughter*

#40: Attractive

Diego: Do you swallow magnets? Because you’re -

Klaus: *shoves him up against the wall*

Klaus: How did you find out? Who told you? Was it Ben? I swear to god I’ll kill him -

Diego: *squeaks* What?

#41: First You’ve Gotta Propose Diego

Diego: Wouldn’t we look cute on a wedding cake together?

Klaus: Diego. Did you buy me a cake?

Diego:

Klaus:

Diego:

Klaus: I’m waiting.

Diego: Right sir yes sir right away sir -

#42: He May Not Be A Kitten But He Is As Soft As One

Diego: If I followed you home, would you keep me?

Klaus: I’m homeless, Diego.

Diego: What? You are? Oh no, baby - you can come stay with me?

Klaus: *looks up from Disney Princess coloring book and raises an eyebrow* Is your bed available?

Diego, blushing: Ye-yeah, b-ba-baby. Whe-whenever you-u w-want.

Klaus: *smiles*

Klaus: *takes Diego’s hand*

Klaus: Okay.

Diego: *dies a little bit inside (in a good way)*

#43: It’s Just You.

Diego: Is it hot in here or is it just you?

Klaus, blushing: I -

Five: DIEGO. THE HOUSE IS ON FIRE. NOW IS NOT THE TIME.

#44: ‘Scuse Me, Mate?

Diego: You know, penguins mate for life. Wanna be my penguin?

Klaus: Eh. I’ve always been more of an iguana man.

Diego:

Diego:

Diego:

Diego: What?

#45: You Look Like… Antonio Banderas With The Long Hair.

Diego: How’s the most beautiful person in the world doing today?

Klaus: *buried in a Vogue magazine* I don’t know I’m not Antonio Banderas.

#46: What The Fuck Klaus

Diego: Do you have a map? I keep getting lost in your eyes.

Klaus: *hands him a Candyland board* Here. I stole it from Pogo.

#47: You Dumbass

Diego: I hate my last name. Can I borrow yours?

Klaus:

Klaus:

Klaus:

Klaus: We have the same last name, Diego.

Diego: *blinks*

Diego: Fuck you’re right -

#48: Okay But Diego Would Make A Great Aladdin Though

Diego: I’m not a genie, but I can still make your dreams come true.

Klaus: *wrinkles his nose*

Klaus: You can get me a pink elephant with jaundice?

Diego: *blinks*

Diego: What the fuck Klaus -

#49: HELLO

Diego: Is that a knife or are you just happy to see me?

Klaus: I don’t just have random knives on me Diego, I’m not you.

Diego: So you are happy to see me?

Klaus: I mean you just interrupted a very riveting episode of Sesame Street, so… we’ll see.

#50: It’s Always Best To Start With The Truth.

Diego: I love you.

Klaus: *beams* That’s all you had to say, darling.

[capitainelevi]

For @pufferssss, happy late birthday!! ❤️

Waiting for sunrise

Words: 2968

The first and last time Levi visits Petra`s grave.

Levi arranged his cravat again, self-conscious at the thought of visiting her for the first time. He stood frozen in place, with a bouquet of orange lilies in his hand. Her favorite flowers. Just a mere coincidence, not an effort on his part, of course. He never imagined he would visit her here so early on. Staring at the newly carved headstone, he tried to set aside the nagging thought that the earth underneath it only held an empty coffin.

What should he say to her?

“Your dad came to see me after the mission, and I had to tell him that I don`t even have a body to bring back home to him”?

“I failed in getting justice for you and the guys”?

“I miss your tea”?

The only words he could spurt out were “Hi, Ral.”

He groaned at his awkwardness and settled on presenting her with the flowers he chose for her. He could feel his hands getting sweaty from anxiousness, much to his confusion. He had nothing to be nervous about. It was just Petra in front of him. His subordinate. Petra, who fought by his side for years. Who swore to devote her life to him. Just his Petra.

Levi sat on the ground next to the gravestone, unconcerned about the dirt he would have to clean out of his clothes at the end of the day. “I hope you can hear me, wherever you are. I like to think you`re listening.” He never spent much time concerning himself with death and the life that supposedly followed it, but ever since losing them as well, he found himself wishing they were happy. He knew that those brats would be wasting the rest they earned to look over him, no matter how much he objected.

“I hope you like the spot I chose for you. It`s sunny, but you also get some shade from the tree. I thought you`d like listening to birds singing." On their free days, he could always spot Petra with a book on her lap, under the shade of the oak tree in their yard. He never dared to bother her, worried he would disturb the angelic aura of the image, content with being fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of it. He never dared get so close to the sun.

"I`m going to bring some flowers we can plant next time I visit. I know you had a green thumb.” Levi omitted in letting her know it only took a month for the plant in his office that she cared for years to wither away in his care. Or maybe it just knew Petra would never be back.

Levi closed his eyes, lulled to sleep by the quietness around him and the feeling of the afternoon sky on his skin, considering if someone would bother him if he moved to the tree trunk to nap. He craved some peace.

“I`m sorry I didn`t get to come earlier. You missed a real shit show in Sina.” He took a glance at his wounded leg and sighed. “It`s not as bad as it looks, no need to mother me.”

Without raising his eyes from the ground in front of him, Levi admitted to her in a hoarse voice- “I kept calling out orders for you, and Erwin had to remind me that you`re not here anymore. Like I could ever fucking forget.”

Despite the emptiness in his chest, he went on- “Eren misses you. I really wish you could help me manage that brat. You always knew what to say to him. Hange misses you. I… everyone misses you.” They left a hole behind that he doubted he would ever patch.

Levi cleaned off some dust from her headstone before promising her he would be back as soon as he could.

As promised, the second time Levi visited her, he got her some daisies to plant next to her resting place. After wiping his hands clean on a rag, Levi sat down against the tree trunk to admire his work. He was sure Petra would be proud of the progress he made regarding gardening. He had even gotten a new plant to replace the one on his desk.

“Tch, not talkative today, are we? That`s alright, you know I always talk a lot.”

Visiting her calmed his restless spirit. His anxiety over the plan, his worry over Erwin`s wellbeing, his longing to have his old squad by his side again, they were all pilling up for the last few days. Levi found himself losing even more sleep lately. But he would never tell her that since it would most likely end in another one of her scoldings.

“You`re missing it, the final push. The brat`s finally going to do it, he`s going to seal the Wall.” Levi hoped that they would be able to carry out the mission. That his squad`s sacrifice to keep Eren alive would not have been in vain.

“You`re not being fair, are you? You already know what we will find in the basement, and yet you keep it all to yourself. Tch, be like that.” Would it all be worth it? The pain, the countless sacrifices, and the lives lost along the way? He wished Petra could answer that for him.

He never wanted to upset her, but Petra always encouraged him to let others help him carry the burden. Levi took a deep breath before speaking again- “I think Eren misses you. He`s been going on about how he wants to visit you again. Bring you flowers. To help me maintain this place clean." Levi rolled his eyes again and the memory. "Like I would ever need his help with that.”

Levi took the ribbon out of his pocket and started fiddling with it, ignoring the slight pang of guilt at how he came into its possession.

“I hope you won`t mind I took that.” The first night he spent without them, Levi found himself roaming the empty corridors of the castle. When his steps took him in front of Petra`s door, the urge to hold on to something physical to remember her overtook his sense of shame. He was aware that her belongings would go back to her parents in the next few days, but he hoped the red ribbon Petra used to tie her hair with would not be missed.

“I took your patch at first. I was going to keep it in my breast pocket. To have a reminder of your sacrifice. But when I saw that kid eaten up by guilt, I knew what I had to do. I knew what you would have wanted me to do with it.” He had no regrets about that. It was the perfect way to honor the kindest soldier the Survey Corps ever had.

When the light began to fade, Levi got up from his spot and left without saying another word to Petra. He did not want to say goodbye to her. Levi felt no need for it since death could be in his cards the next day. And he could get to see her again sooner than he thought.

The third time Levi visited her, it was not with a flower bouquet in his hand but with a bottle of cheap alcohol he found on Moblit`s desk. That night, Levi allowed grief to consume him.

"Erwin died. But I have a feeling you know that already, don`t you?" Levi wiped his nose with the back on his hand, too absorbed in his anger to even care about the disgusting habit.

"Are you mad at him? Are you mad that he chose to sacrifice your life?"

But only silence greeted him.

"Are you mad that I didn`t even question it?"

No answer again. The rage burning inside him overtook him, and Levi smashed the bottle against the headstone.

"Shit. I`m sorry, I shouldn`t have done that." Levi crouched down and collected the pieces of the bottle into his handkerchief. The grief, the anger, and now the shame for denigrating her place of rest were eating him alive.

"We found out the truth, you know? It`s a shitty world out there, Ral. But I have a feeling not even that would have cut off your wings."

Levi found himself craving touch. Her touch. And for the first time in his life, he felt the need to be comforted. He smiled to himself bitterly. How cruel must the deity who created him be for making him desire the impossible?

The fourth time Levi visited her, he brought a special gift for her. A small, odd thing that Armin called seashell.

“We saw the sea today. Just a big old pile of saltwater. But you would have loved it.”

Seeing the brats play in the water with carefree smiles on their face made him yearn for a glimpse of amber hair in the picture. He missed them all dearly.

“I would have to pull you out of it by the collar of your shirt, I bet.” For as devoted and strict as she was, Petra always seemed to cause him distress. Not that he minded it, of course. Levi found himself wishing to hear her timid knocks on his door again, even in the middle of the night. He longed for those times, where she shyly approached him after needing his help in whatever problem she found herself stuck in again.

While that was not his intention when he first came to her, his heart was heavy with words he never said to her. "The world hates us, Ral." He could never imagine how someone would ever detest someone as kind as Petra just for the blood running in her veins. But if he had to be true to himself, a part of him hated Petra as well.

"Maybe I hate you too."

Petra broke his promises to him, after all. Two years ago, when death was imminent on an expedition, and Petra put down her swords in acceptance, Levi fought with her. He made her promise she would make it to the end. That she would be by his side the day they kill the last titan.

"Do you remember your promises to me? Such bullshit. Never thought you were a liar, Petra."

But Levi knew she would have never left him had she had a choice. That she would have fought for even just a second more by his side. But it never dulled the pain of losing her.

With a heavy heart, Levi said his goodbye for the evening, guilty for blaming her for things out of her control.

The fifth time Levi visited her, it was snowing outside.

It was always a wonder how someone radiating light and warmth could be a winter child. But Levi was sure he memorized the date right. It was an important one for him, after all. Levi fought to make sure he had enough time to get ready for celebrating her birthday. She deserved nothing more than a perfect day. Hange had been more than understanding, the wound left by losing Moblit still fresh in their heart.

Levi put the bouquet of twenty-two golden roses on the frozen ground. “Happy birthday. Twenty-two, huh? You`re turning into an old woman, Ral.” The irony of his words made a slight pang of guilt rise in his chest. The passing of time would never touch her again.

“I have your favorite”- he said, lightly shaking the box containing a small vanilla cake. Sugar was a rarity, but getting a cake was an unspoken rule in his squad. Their lives were too short to worry about the money. The first thing Levi noticed about Petra was the faint flower smell emanating from her. The first thing after setting his eyes on her clean nails, of course. On her first birthday that they celebrated as a squad, Levi gifted Petra a bottle of scented body lotion. And some high-quality cleaning rags, of course. But she did not pay attention to that. She and the rest of the Survey Corps never knew how to appreciate the finer things in life. But Levi did not miss the way her face lit up when he noticed something she enjoyed.

“I could never understand your sweet tooth, but today, I`m going to have a slice of cake.” Levi always refrained from indulging in this vice. Having grown unaccustomed to sugar, the idea of sweetness was unappealing to him. He always felt bad for disappointing her each year when she sat in front of him, with a small piece of cake she had cut for him. “Or two slices. Two is more appropriate anyway. If I get cavities, it`s on your ass.”

The ground was too cold for him to sit down on, and Levi made a mental note to build a small bench close to her headstone. He opened the box and eyed the cake wearily, considering if he should change his mind. He took a small bite of the cake, and he almost choked on it. “Oi, this is so damn sweet. How the fuck could you eat so much of it?” But it did not stop him from finishing his slice.

Levi expected to find some flowers lying in the snow or at least some tracks leading up to her grave.

“Does your old man still come around? I`ve never crossed paths with him since the expedition.” Sometimes, when he closed his eyes at night, he could still recall Mr. Ral`s pained expression when he realized there was no one left for him to wait for.

“Maybe it`s for the best. I bet he doesn`t want to see me again.” To see the face of the man who was supposed to protect his daughter. The face of the man his daughter wanted to devote her life to. The man who could not even bring him a body home to bury.

“I`m a shit. Ruining your birthday with talk like this.” Levi was never good at this. In his spot, Eld would have teased Petra about her first expedition. Tell her how now that she was a big girl, she ought to refrain from soiling herself again. Petra would turn red from embarrassment and elbow Eld in the ribs. Gunther would point out that despite their age, they are still children. And proceed with teasing Petra himself. Oluo would try to defend Petra`s honor to gain her attention, which would make him the target instead. Levi gave a small smile at the thoughts. He missed them dearly, more than he would ever care to admit.

Levi crouched down and cleared the layer of snow covering her headstone. He ran his finger alongside the letters of her name, wishing he would have had more opportunities to write it down.

“Happy birthday again, brat.”

The last time he visited her, Levi had company. Gabi and Falco did not give it another thought before offering to help him see her again before they would all leave for a new life. A better life, he hoped. But without her by his side, it was never going to be perfect. Gabi set down the flowers before they gave him privacy. While they never asked him about who she was, they knew Levi must have cared for her a great deal.

"Hi, brat. It`s been a while."

He had so much to say to her, and yet, he did not know where to start. A part of him expected to join her during the last battle, but fate always had something new in store for him. Levi was uncertain if it was luck by his side or a curse to watch everyone he ever cared about die. But life was looking brighter, and Levi promised himself he would never lose anyone again.

"Are Hange and Erwin with you now? How about the guys?" He wished for nothing more than to be there by their side. But Levi knew they would never forgive him if he did not try to live the remainder of his life to the fullest. And for them, he would try.

"Does Oluo still bite his tongue? Did he try to flirt with you again? Is Eld still teasing you? Does Gunther still treat you as a little sister?" Levi chuckled at the memory of their antics. He learned the hard way that he never appreciated them enough before he lost them.

"I hope there is an afterlife. I hope it`s peaceful. You all deserve it. Such a shitty end..." He closed his eyes and sighed at the words coming out of his mouth. "I`m sorry, I didn`t mean it. But you already knew that. I was always an open book to you."

Levi felt guilty for leaving the home they bled for behind, but if he were truthful, it had not felt like home to him for years. With no one left by his side, nothing was keeping him in Paradise anymore. While neither of them voiced it out, he had dreamed of a future with Petra by his side. And for her, he would try to live a long and happy life. Before he got to be with her.

"I`m sorry... for the future I never got to offer you. The one you deserved. I`m sorry for the house I never got to build for us, for the vows we never got to take, for the brats that will never play in my backyard." Levi knew Petra would encourage him to find love, but he never would again. He could never imagine a future by someone else`s side.

Levi glanced back at her grave for one last time before he set out for the remainder of his life- "I`ll see you soon. Wait for me."

ao3

[hizashis-lil-bunbun]

The Silent Auction- (Hizashi Yamada X Fem!Reader)

This is my contribution to the Citrus Dome Auction Collab! Hizashi is honestly one of my favorite characters to write for and it’s a crime I don’t use him more.

Word Count: ~8.5k

Contains: smut, pet names, unprotected sex, creampie, DDLG (if you squint)

Banner by @ladyshinigami

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“I can’t believe this.” You sigh for the umpteenth time, twisting this way and that to look at yourself in the bathroom mirror. You’re wearing a rich, black, floor-length gown with a high slit up one side and just the right amount of ruching to tastefully accentuate your curves. It was truly a miracle that it fit without the need for alterations, considering you’d had to buy the thing in a rush. Hell, you’d barely glanced at the price tag before slapping down your company credit card, viewing it as a bit of karmic justice for your boss’ callous, last-minute assignment. Sure being a sidekick of Endeavor’s (even a minor one) had its perks, but that didn’t make him any less of a nightmare to work for. As you struggled with the miniscule clasp on your necklace, you replayed this morning’s events in your head.

“The Heroes Gala?” You’d questioned, cocking your head in confusion and earning an irritated groan from the Flame Hero.

“Surely you’ve heard of it.” He’d snarked, the flames that ring his face seeming to flare in annoyance. “The Commission holds it once a year as a way to celebrate our achievements in hero society today and raise money for future endeavors. Dignitaries and heroes from all over the country– the world really– are expected to attend.”

“I’m aware of that, sir.” You’d chirped back, straightening up to make up for your lapse in decorum. “I’m just confused by what this has to do with me.”

If looks could kill, the glare he’d shot you would have put you in a coffin.

“Unfortunately, I’ve been called away on an urgent mission and can’t make it to the gala this year. But since I am the Number One Hero, my agency must provide some form of representation. That’s where you come in.”

Your eyes went wide at that, heart jumping into your throat as the gravity of the situation sank in. As far as your job was concerned, Endeavor’s word was law. There was no bargaining or substitution to be made. He didn’t even wait for a response before continuing.

“Your role for this event is simple: smile, wave, and maybe bid on a few of the auction items as a show of good faith. If you win something, fine. Just make sure it’s nothing… distasteful.”

You were tempted to question the noticeable shudder that ran through him as spat out the final word. But the careless wave of his hand was the signal for you to bow and leave, giving you no room for queries. However, just as you were about to walk out the door, he decided to toss some parting remarks your way.

“Make sure to wear something appropriate. It is a black tie event, after all. And one of my other sidekicks will be escorting you this evening. Call it insurance to make sure you don’t do anything to embarrass me.”

“Asshole.” You hiss under your breath, successfully hooking the clasp shut and putting a few loose hairs back in place. “What does he think I’m going to do? Get wasted and swing from the chandelier?”

Still muttering a litany of colorful curses, you march to the edge of your bed and plop down to slip into the matching stilettos you’d picked out during your brief shopping trip. Shoes like these were normally well out of your comfort zone (not to mention your price range), but you weren’t the one paying for them. Call them compensation for sacrificing one of your precious nights off. Once they were on, you stood up from the bed and carefully made your way over to the full length mirror in the corner of the room. You smooth down the fabric of your dress, picking away a few stray pieces of lint and checking for any “embarrassing” blemishes or stains. But everything is almost irritatingly perfect, not a stitch out of place. You’re about to launch into another tirade against Endeavor when your work phone chimes from it’s spot on the nightstand. No doubt it’s your “escort” (you refused to call him a date) texting to let you know he was coming to get you. Or worse, already here.

“No turning back now.”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“This is it.” You hear Endeavor’s other sidekick grunt, forcing you to snap out of your daydreaming and look towards him. You hadn’t batted an eye when you stepped out of your apartment to find Endeavor had sent a limo, driven by one of his fleet of personal chauffeurs, to pick you up. He did have a knack for flashing his wealth and status whenever possible. What did surprise you was his choice of escort for the evening: a man by the name of Buru (or Taurus if you were to use his hero name). Buru was a fair bit older than you, sporting a pair of bull horns and hooves, and corded with so much muscle it was a wonder how he managed to squeeze into a tux. You seem positively miniscule compared to his hulking frame, making you look like a rather odd couple. The driver pulls up to the curbside, quickly putting the limo in park before getting out to hold the door open for you. He courteously extends a hand to you, which you graciously accept before snagging your evening clutch from the seat beside you. You gracefully step out of the vehicle and onto an honest-to-god red carpet leading towards one of the glitziest hotels in the heart of Tokyo, blinking in the wake of what feels like a hundred camera bulbs flashing around you. Reporters and cameramen are clamoring to snap pictures of the various celebrities and heroes, asking questions that run the gamut from classy to trashy.

Buru plods around the limo to join you by your side, giving you a subtle nod to signal that it’s time to start walking. You set off down the plush runway, walking with more confidence than you felt as reporters peppered you and Buru with questions about your relationship to the Number One Hero. Evidently they’d been tipped off regarding Endeavor’s absence. Buru remained stone-faced, his long strides quickly outstripping your much more delicate steps. 

“So much for being an escort.” You think, deciding to pick up the pace so as to not be left behind. And that decision quickly reveals itself to be a terrible mistake. Your pencil thin heel catches on a hidden snag in the carpet, causing your ankle to twist and buckle beneath you. You’re thrown off balance, teetering wildly before plummeting headlong towards the carpeted pavement. But before you can fall flat on your face, a set of strong, slender hands wrap themselves around your torso and pull you upwards, your back coming in contact with your savior’s chest.

“Woah there, little listener!” A familiar voice trills in your ear, their hands releasing you once you’re back on stable footing. “You almost took one helluva stage dive! You good?”

You turn over your shoulder to find a smiling face, framed by outrageous orange sunglasses and a well-trimmed mustache. Hypnotic, emerald eyes seem to sparkle back at you and his long blond hair is tied up in a messy, half-bun. You know this man. Everyone in Tokyo with a radio knows him: Present Mic, the Voice Hero.

“Thanks, Present Mic.” You mumble, an embarrassed blush rising on your cheeks. It was bad enough you’d stumbled in front of the press; the incessant clicking and flashing of cameras was reminding you of that. But to be saved by another hero on top of it… it was a little too much. However, the blonde doesn’t seem to care, giving a hearty laugh and clapping a hand on your shoulder good-naturedly.

“Don’t mention it, baby!” He chortles, winking in a way that would seem forced or cheesy coming from anyone else. “Always happy to help. Besides, it doesn’t seem like your boyfriend is too keen on stickin’ around.”

“Boyfriend?” You ask, cocking your head before remembering who you came with. You blush an even deeper shade of red, sure your face is about to burst into flames akin to your employer’s own. “Oh! No, no, no! He’s not my boyfriend. We just work together at the agency.”

“No kiddin’?” Mic says, his grin spreading impossibly wider before straightening up and offering an arm to you. “In that case, how ‘bout I lend you a hand until we get inside? No offense but those heels ya got on seem closer to stilts than kicks, ya dig?

While his radio slang is a bit confusing, you can’t help but find it a little endearing. With a sheepish nod, you grab a hold of his jacket-clad forearm and allow him to smoothly lead you down the remainder of the red carpet. He’s in full ‘Present Mic mode” as you walk together, all winning smiles and carefree waves as the press peppers him with questions.

“Mic who are you wearing this evening?”

“Present Mic! What’s the name of your damsel in distress?

“Mic! Is it true you’re involved in a scandalous affair with fellow Pro, Eraserhead?”

He lets their shameless inquiries roll off of him like water off a duck’s back, only blowing a dramatic kiss to the crowd before you both disappear behind the front doors. Once inside the lobby, Mic walks you over to one of three elevators, ushering you inside with a crush of other gala-goers once the doors open. It’s a short ride up to the venue space, and you can’t help but gasp when the elevator doors open onto an immaculately decorated ballroom. Every wall and archway is decorated with banners in the Hero Commission's signature black and gold colors, festooned with matching sprays of floral arrangements. There’s a live band somewhere in the room, playing soft jazz in the background to create an elegant atmosphere for the evening. But most impressive of all is the view; the farthest wall is made up entirely of floor-to-ceiling windows, offering a panoramic view of the Tokyo skyline. The sun is just starting to dip below the horizon, washing the room in an amber light that gives everyone a coppery glow. You’re so spellbound by the scene before you that Mic’s low whistle causes you to jump slightly. How long has he had his arm draped over your shoulders? Come to think of it, when had you slipped your own arm around his waist?

“Damn.” He breathes, carefully walking out of the elevators with you in tow. “This place is bitchin’. So much cooler than last year’s venue.”

“Is that so?” You say, your head swiveling around as a waiter breezes past you with a tray of finger foods. You don’t notice the way Mic watches you, nor do you see the crooked smile that crosses over his face as your tongue darts out to wet your lips. 

“Oh yeah.” He says, leading you away from the elevators and further into the crowd. “Last year the Commission rented out some–”

“Mic!” A deep voice calls above the steady thrum of conversation, cutting him off. An equally deep, if not more irritated voice calls out your own name simultaneously. The two of you look in opposite directions, the blonde towards a pair of dark-haired individuals waving him over and you towards your forgotten escort. Buru is fuming, smoke practically pouring out of his ears as he marches towards you.

“Where were you?” He growls while grabbing the hand closest to him and pulling you away from Mic harshly. “You’re not supposed to leave my side. Boss’ orders!”

“Stop it Buru!” You snap, yanking your hand out of his grip. “If you didn’t want me to leave your side, maybe you should have waited for me back on the red carpet. I nearly fell and busted my ass thanks to you! If Present Mic hadn’t been there–”

“No excuses.” Buru snaps back, “I shouldn’t have to wait around because you can’t keep up. We’re Mr. Todoroki’s sidekicks, so try to act like it!”

“Todoroki?” You hear the blonde hero echo behind you, “As in Enji Todoroki? Endeavor?”

You wince at Mic’s words, grateful your back is turned to him at the moment. Endeavor may be a hero, but being associated with him didn’t evoke a lot of warm, fuzzy feelings in folks. And many tended to react poorly when they found out who you worked for. With a dejected sigh, you turn back towards Mic, ignoring the way Buru impatiently stamps his hooves behind you.

“Yes, that’s right.” You say glumly, putting up your mask of professionalism. “I’m one of Endeavor’s sidekicks. He was called away on urgent business and sent me and my associate here to represent him and his agency. Forgive me for not telling you earlier.”

You offer a quick, apologetic bow, hoping to slink away as quickly as possible. But to your surprise, Mic doesn’t scoff, jeer, or even try to suck up to you for favors. He laughs. Not in a cruel or condescending way, but a real, mirthful laugh, infectious to the point you feel your own tension ease slightly.

“So that’s why I didn’t recognize ya!” He chortles, smacking his palm to his forehead. “Although it’s not too surprising. That dude cycles through more sidekicks than a jukebox does music.”

The nonchalant way he insults your boss causes your mask to slip and you let loose a giggle of your own. Buru, on the other hand, is clearly not amused.

“How dare you insult the Number One Hero!” He roars, stepping forward to point a scathing finger at Mic. “Endeavor is twice- no, three times the hero you could ever hope to be!”

“Woah, woah, woah! Take it easy, dude!” Mic says, putting his hands up before shooting you another playful wink. “All I meant was I definitely would have remembered meeting a pretty little thing like your partner here.”

You find yourself blushing and batting your eyelashes at him, returning his obvious attempts at flirting in a more surreptitious manner. Buru just places one broad hand on your shoulder, giving Mic a derisive snort before he starts to drag you away. 

“You’re not worth the effort.” He huffs, “Just stay away.”

You can’t resist adding one more match to the fire of Buru’s rage, looking over your shoulder and belting out a cheerful, “It was nice meeting you!”

“See ya around!” The blonde calls back, giving you a chipper wave before disappearing into the throng. Buru leads you to a table at the far end of the room, set with fine crystal stemware and gold place settings. He stiffly pulls out a chair for you, allowing you to sit down before taking up residence beside you. You’re amazed the flimsy looking things can support any weight at all, much less the mountain of horned muscle currently glowering at you. He crosses his arms and leans back with a grunt.

“So… now what?” You ask, absentmindedly fiddling with the gold napkin ring in front of you.

“You stay put.” He commands, “No leaving my sight for any reason.”

“You’re joking right? Do you seriously expect me to sit here with you all night?”

Buru doesn’t answer, instead turning his glare onto the crowd. You groan and flop forwards to rest your elbows on the table, opting to occupy your time with people watching. The ballroom is crawling with high-profile attendees: pros and sidekicks, politicians and CEO’s, celebrities and VIP’s. All of them with money, power, and prestige oozing out of their pores. You watch as the tuxedo-clad waitstaff scurry amongst the party-goers, offering up trays of hors d'oeuvres and honey-colored champagne. Every once a while, one of them makes their way over to your table with some delicious little morsel to offer. And in your famished state, the already excellently prepared food tastes like heaven. But when a server carrying a tray of champagne comes by to offer you a glass, Buru grabs your wrist before you can partake and rudely waves the poor girl off.

“What the hell was that for?” You hiss, rubbing at your now sore wrist.

“No alcohol. You’ve embarrassed me and Endeavor enough as it is.”

That does it. You can deal with villains, Endeavor, even your parents if necessary. But this “personal babysitter” schtick has gone far enough. You stand up from the table with a huff, swiftly moving out of Buru’s reach before he can grab you again. 

“Sit down!”

“No! I have to go to the bathroom. Can I at least do that?”

“I’ll accompany you.”

“Like hell you will! I’m a grown woman. I can go to the bathroom by myself without getting in trouble.”

Buru narrows his eyes and scowls deeply at you. You stare him down, refusing to back down from this fight. After a few tense moments, he relaxes slightly and gives a curt nod.

“You have ten minutes.”

You grab your clutch, turn on your heel and march off into the fray, doing your best to avoid stepping on other people with your dagger sharp heels. As you make your way across the crowded dance floor, you begin to recognize the more popular Pro Heroes among the sea of faces. Some of them you’d had the privilege of meeting personally, like Hawks and Miruko, both of whom were currently surrounded by fans and admirers. Others you’d only seen on TV or in newspaper clippings, but that didn’t make them any less impressive. In fact, you were too busy watching Fatgum scarf down a whole tray of artisanal onigiri by himself to notice a certain blonde standing in your way until it was too late. You bumped right into him, bouncing off with an embarrassed “I’m so sorry!” before coming eye-to-eye with those striking green whorls again.

“Oh hey, it’s you!” Mic exclaims, grinning down at you like he hasn’t seen you in ages. “No need to be sorry, baby. This thing’s a rental anyways!”

“But you’re all wet now.” You say, watching him while he wipes the remains of his spilled champagne off his tux jacket. “I can pay for the cleaning fees if necessary. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Honey, trust me. There are worse things to be covered in than free champagne. I’ve been to enough of these gigs to know!”

You giggle and open your mouth to respond, but are cut off by a velvety voice coming from your left. 

“Is this the little songbird you were telling us about, Zashi?’

You turn to find one of Present Mic’s companions from earlier, a dark-haired woman sipping her own drink and watching your exchange. She’s dressed in a skintight, scarlet gown with a neckline that plunges almost to her navel. A matching pair of horn-rimmed spectacles are perched on her nose, framing her striking cerulean eyes. Even without their signature harness and flogger, you recognize her as Miss Midnight.

“Yup! She’s the one!” Present Mic confirms, casually slinging his arm back around your shoulders. “What’d I tell ya? Pretty cute, right?”

The R-Rated Hero turns her gaze on you at his words, the sultry look in her eyes causing your stomach to flip a little. Seriously, it should be illegal for anyone to look that sexy.

“Very cute.” She assesses with a nod, “Zashi says you work for Endeavor, yes?”

“Y-yeah.” You fumble, slightly flustered and tongue-tied in the face of her scandalous beauty. “I’m one of his sidekicks.”

“I’m sorry.” Midnight quips back, her lack of manners shocking you slightly. But judging by the booze-bitten blush on her cheeks, you suppose the liquid courage in her system is to blame. “I know he’s the Number One Hero, but I’ve been his colleague long enough to realize how intense he can be. He must have you on a pretty short leash, huh?”

“I’ll say!” Mic chimes in, “He sent along some “nanny cow” of a sidekick to watch her all night. Speakin’ of which, how’d you manage to shake him?”

“Well…”

You glance back in the direction you came from, only for your face to drain of all color as you see a tell-tale pair of horns bobbing up and down amongst the crowd. Hizashi follows your line of sight and instantly sees the danger. Quick as anything, his arm snakes around your midriff and he turns to Midnight for assistance.

“Hey Nemuri, I got a gig for ya. See that guy with the horns? Big, mean, and ugly lookin’? Think you can distract him for a few minutes?”

“No problem!” She chirps without hesitation, tipping back the rest of her brightly colored cocktail before readjusting the neckline of her dress. It makes you wonder how much cleavage someone can possibly show before it crosses the line into pornographic. You’re too busy looking over your shoulder for Buru to notice the subtle wink that passes between the two heroes. And then Hizashi is moving, seamlessly flitting through the crowd and keeping you firmly glued to his side as you duck and weave around the other guests. You have to admit the speed at which he navigates the crowded space is impressive as he heads for one of the darkened archways lining the walls. Soon the crowd thins out and you reluctantly pry yourself out from under Mic’s arm to get your bearings. He’s lead you into a dimly-lit, side hallway, with tables and doorways lining the farthest walls. The din of party conversation and music is more muffled now, making you feel like you’re in a state of limbo.

“Where are we?”

“Silent auction.” Mic answers plainly, “Figured I’d take you somewhere quieter while we let Midnight do her thing.”

“And what exactly is her ‘thing?” You ask skeptically, wandering over to one of the display tables to check out the wares.

“You’ll see.” He says with a smirk, silently following behind you with his hands in his pockets. There are miniature spotlights shining down on the auction items, with slips of paper and pens for people to write in their bids. All the prizes are exceedingly lavish, from baskets overflowing with expensive spirits and goodies to exotic trips around the world. And the bids themselves leave your head spinning, shocked and a little sickened by the amount of money being casually thrown around.

“I’m sorry, the minimum bid for this is how much?” You scoff, pointing at the high price tag on what appears to be a singular bottle of wine. Mic leans over your shoulder to read the number himself, letting out a low whistle.

“Must be some good stuff.” He says with a smirk.

“I’m totally bidding on it.”

“You’re kiddin’ right? Last I checked, sidekicks don’t make that kind of bank, even if they do work for the Number One Pro. What are ya, some kind of secret billionaire princess?”

“Sadly no.” You say, digging into your evening bag to pull out a sleek, black card. “But I’m not the one who’s paying. And Endeavor did say to bid on a few items, ‘as a show of good faith.”

You end your sentence on a terrible impression of the Flame Hero, earning another snicker from the blonde as you place your bid. The pair of you wander the auction area for a while, gawking at the ludicrous prices and talking quietly. Or at least, as quietly as the blonde can manage. You fall into easy conversation, mainly discussing work in the hero world and Mic’s teaching career. Present Mic, or Hizashi as he prefers to be called, is a surprisingly eloquent speaker and his high-energy demeanor ensures there’s never a lull in the conversation. It’s honestly refreshing after dealing with the snooty, intense people you’re used to at the agency. Not to mention, he has no qualms about encouraging you to be a little mischievous when it comes to spending your boss’ money.

“How ‘bout that one?” He says, gesturing to a particularly gaudy piece of abstract art. “I think that would look rad on the big man’s mantlepiece, yeah?”

You giggle and lightly push against his arm, as mild punishment for his goofiness. 

“No way. Endeavor specifically said to not bid on something too ‘distasteful.’ And I’m pretty sure that thing is towing the line. What’s it even supposed to be?”

“It kinda looks like All Might.” Hizashi offers, “If you stand really far away and squint. I don’t really know much about fine art. But I do know ‘distasteful’ and I’m tellin’ ya now, this aint it baby.”

“And what would you qualify as distasteful?”

A grin that can only be likened to the Cheshire Cat spreads across Hizashi’s handsome face.

“I’ll show you.” He says, extending a hand to you. You grab a hold and allow him to guide you towards one of the doors along the wall. As you get closer, you realize there are small placards inscribed with a number on each of the handles. Hizashi is currently leading you to a door marked with the number seventeen, opening it for you and allowing you to step inside ahead of him. You find yourself in a much smaller room, washed in the same dim lighting as the rest of the auction area. It’s just big enough for two people to stand inside (three if they’re thin), and the oak paneling and cramped quarters almost remind you of a confessional booth. But there’s no man of the cloth here; instead there’s a screen set into the farthest wall and a small, black button resting on a shallow shelf below it. The screen only displays a three-digit number, every so often flashing red before going back to the number.

“What the hell?” You breathe while stepping farther into the room, allowing Hizashi to squeeze in behind you.

“Welcome to the main event of the Heroes Gala.” He says, closing the door. “The Anonymous Auction.”

“The Anonymous Auction?” You parrot back quizzically, turning around to face the blonde.

“You’re aware that most of the Commission's funding comes from public taxes, yeah?” He asks, waiting for your nod before continuing. “Well taxpayer dollars can only go so far. Especially when hero and villain activity has only gone up over time. Rebuildin’ a city you just smashed like an old record ain't cheap you know.”

He pauses to jerk one thumb behind him.

“That’s why they started holdin’ auctions– this whole gala, really– in the first place. It’s all just a fancy way to supplement the Commission’s budget. And due to the popularity of the auctions, they started offering some more… exclusive items in recent years.”

“What do you mean by exclusive?”

Hizashi gives you another playful smirk, looking at you over the rim of his sunglasses.

“You’re a smart girl. What do you think it means?”

He steps a little closer to you and places his hands on your waist for emphasis, thumbing small circles at the swell of your hips. You unconsciously lean into his touch and your eyes flutter closed for a moment before snapping open once more, realization crashing over you like a tidal wave.

“You mean like sex stuff!?” You squeak bluntly, earning a laugh from the Voice Hero.

“Well not all of it! But there have been some bizarre and kinda risqué items up for sale in the past.”

“Such as?”

“Well, I know for a fact that Nemuri donates a part of her “collection” to the auction every year.” Hizashi states, putting air quotes around the term. “And rumor has it that last year All Might auctioned off a pair of his underwear. I don’t know about that one, but if that’s true, then it explains how UA paid for it’s new training grounds and why the staff got a nice Christmas bonus.”

You can’t help but giggle at the thought of some snobby billionaire drooling over a pair of All Might’s underwear. Maybe they’d had them framed, mounted on the wall like a hunting trophy. You’re too caught up in your ridiculous daydreaming to realize Hizashi has stepped even closer to you, not until you can feel his hands sliding a little further down your sides and a little farther behind you. You’re now chest to chest, breathing in tandem as he leans down to speak directly into your ear.

“So now that we’re in here… what do you say we play a little game?”

His voice is low and smooth, audial honey dripping into your brain. Your breath unconsciously catches in your throat as your body moves of its own accord to press closer to him. The energy between you is shifting palpably, from friendly strangers to something much more intimate and heavy. The room feels like it’s heating up and your dress suddenly feels much too snug.

“What kind of game?” You murmur back, a delicious shiver running down your spine when he hums in response.

“How ‘bout the quiet game?” He says, his bristly mustache tickling your cheek when he speaks. “But we’ll make it a little more interesting.”

You can feel him begin to gently push against you, forcing you to walk backwards until you feel the top of your tailbone bump into the low shelf. Hizashi’s hands never leave your body, roaming lower to finally settle on the plush curve of your ass. If anybody else was doing this, you’d have kneed them in the jewels and run for the nearest exit by now. But for some reason, you trust Hizashi. You want Hizashi. And if the steady throbbing in your core is any indication, you need Hizashi.

“Here’s the deal, babygirl.” He says, lifting his head to rest his forehead against your own. You can’t help the way your thighs tense at the pet name, something that definitely doesn't go unnoticed by the Voice Hero. “You’re going to try and stay as quiet as possible. And every time you get too noisy, you’re going to press that little button.”

His eyes flit over to the device in question before locking back on yours.

“That button raises your bid on whatever item is currently up for grabs. So the less noise you make, the less bids you make. And you wouldn’t want to end up winning something distasteful, yeah?”

You subtly shake your head and crack a small smile at his joke, bringing your hands up to rest on his clothed pecs. You’re surprised to feel powerful muscles rippling underneath his rented dress shirt, along with the heat rolling off of his body and the steady thrum of his heartbeat. Clearly that rented tux is doing nothing for his figure.

“Well what are you going to do?” You tease, running your hands up the plane of his chest and underneath the jacket to grip his broad shoulders. “Seems like I’m the only one playing this game of yours.”

One of his hands leaves your ass to hook a finger under your chin, forcing your head to tilt upwards. He gives you a sinfully wicked grin. 

“Oh but that’s the best part, baby. I’m going to try and make you scream.”

Suddenly his lips are crashing into yours, sloppily at first but soon smoothing out into a steady push and pull. He takes your bottom lip between his teeth, biting gently before letting it spring back into place. You sigh into his mouth, a sound eagerly returned by the hero. Your nails dig into his shoulders, bunching the fabric of his shirt as he deepens the kiss. There’s tenderness in the kiss to be sure, but also a fierce dominance that has you fighting against the moans rising in your throat. Hizashi uses the shelf behind you to force and arch into your back before kissing his way down the sensitive column of your throat. He licks and sucks at your pulse point, not hard enough to leave marks but enough to remind you that he’s in control. You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, even going so far as to clap a hand over your mouth when he gives a particularly sharp nip. He clicks his tongue against your skin, bringing up his free hand to pull yours away.

“Ah ah ah. No cheating, baby.” He says, moving farther down your chest until his chin rests between the supple swell of your breasts. “If you try to put yourself on mute again you’ll have to press that button regardless. Ya dig?”

You nod and he releases your hand, allowing you to curl your arm around and place it at the base of his neck. Pleased with your compliance, Hizashi hooks his thumbs under the straps of your dress and gently shrugs them off. The top half of your gown falls away, pooling around your waist as your breasts are fully exposed to the open air. They pebble and peak instantly, despite the perceived heat in the room, and you feel Hizashi’s hum of appreciation rumble through your sternum. His hands come up to cup them, indulging in their full weight and supple give as he squeezes them lightly. His head dips down to kiss your right breast, ghosting over the pert bud of your nipple as he places featherlight kisses around the areola. It’s maddening, far too light and teasing for your liking. The hand on the back of his neck suddenly fists in his hair and you pull him closer to you, squishing his nose against the pliant flesh.

“Damn baby. Feelin’ needy already, huh?” He chuckles against you, pulling away slightly to look up at you through half-lidded, golden lashes. You whine softly, still pulling his head closer to your body. Hizashi resumes fondling your breasts, taking one nipple into his mouth while using his thumb and forefinger to toy with the other. His tongue swirls around the sensitive nub, every deft twirl and brush mirrored by his fingers. It’s a blissful sensation, heating licking across your nerves and shooting straight to your core. Suddenly, he gives a particularly hard suck and pinch, pulling an involuntary gasp from you. You can feel his smug grin before you even look at him, and he pulls off your nipple with a soft pop.

“Strike one, princess. You know what you have to do.”

“I thought you said no cheating.” You whine, feeling the fresh slick coating your panties and relishing the lingering sting emanating from your nipples.

“It’s not cheating, it’s part of the game. Your job is to stay quiet, my job is to break the silence. Now are you going to play by the rules or not?”

You look over at the seemingly innocent button and furrow your brow. It’s only just dawned on you now that you have no idea what you’d be bidding on and a bolt of panic shoots through you. What if it was a piece from Nemuri’s collection? Or something worse! Hizashi, seeming to sense your trepidation, briefly raises his head up to plant a soothing kiss to your temple.

“Hey, we can stop if you wanna.” He says, removing his hands from your breasts to cup your cheeks. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I’m not gonna push ya.”

Your eyes bounce between the little black button and Hizashi’s face, biting your lip in your moment of indecision. It was a gamble for sure, a gamble that could easily cost you your job should you end up winning. But then again… how much humiliation and strain had your nightmare of a boss put you through in the past year? The past month? The past 24 hours? Taking a deep breath, you tentatively press the button, the screen behind you flashing green to signal the successful placement of your bid. Hizashi smiles down at you, impressed with your boldness.

“Fuck it.” You breathe, stretching up to press a chaste kiss against his lips. “I’m all in.”

Hizashi returns the kiss with interest before fully sinking to his knees, running one hand up the slit of your dress to rest on your exposed thigh.

“Okay then, baby.” He purrs, “I need you to spread your legs a little more for me. Lemme see what we’re workin’ with down here, yeah?”

You willingly comply, widening your stance as Hizashi sweeps the bottom half of the dress out of the way and tucks it behind you. The black, lacy thong you’d picked out for the occasion is soaked through, your essence already starting to coat your inner thighs. Hizashi runs one finger up your barely clothed slit, whistling when he feels how damp they are.

“Damn baby.” He breathes, almost like he’s in awe. “These are fucking ruined.”

You resume biting your lip when you feel two of his fingers hook underneath the material and pull it to the side, fighting against the urge to close your legs.

“Such a pretty girl…” Hizashi coos against you, planting a soft kiss to your right thigh before resting his head against it. “Everything about you is pretty.”

You can’t stop the blush that rises to your cheeks at the whispered praise, nor help the way your cunt clenches around nothing. It certainly doesn’t go unnoticed by the blonde as he leans in closer, using his thumbs to gingerly pry your labia apart. He looks up at you hungrily, pupils blown wide with desire as he tongue darts out to wet his lips.

“Hold on tight, baby.”

Hizashi uses the flat of his tongue to lick a hot stripe up your slit, letting out a low, filthy moan at the taste. You realize now why he gave you a warning. He’s using his quirk to amplify his moans tenfold, turning his mouth and tongue into the most attentive sex toy on Earth. The vibrations send shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, clouding your senses with desire. Whatever restraint the hero possessed dissolves the moment he tastes you, as he latches on to your rapidly swelling clit and sucks roughly. You gasp at the new sensation, hips unconsciously bucking to force his face further into you. He hums and willingly obeys your body’s command, replacing his mouth with a heavy thumb and delving his tongue between your folds to lap at your quivering entrance. The increase in intensity causes your thighs squeeze together, caging in the hero’s head as he dutifully tongue-fucks you. You can already feel an orgasm mounting deep in your core, his earlier teasing and stimulation paying off in spades. But his tongue isn’t enough, even with his quirk.

“M-More!” You cry out, unable to quell your pleading voice. “I need more. Need to cum. Please let me cum!”

Hizashi pinches the back of your thigh, a silent reminder for you to follow through with the rules of the game. With a groan you bring your hand down on the button, ignoring the flashing screen as you grind your hips down onto his face. But just when you’re about to tip over the edge, he pulls away from you, breathing heavily and his face coated in your sticky juices. You whimper at the loss of contact, but his hands keep your thighs spread apart to deny you the friction you seek.

“Good girl.” He pants, still swirling his thumb over your aching pearl. “So good for me, baby.”

“Then why’d you stop?” You softly moan, tears of frustration pricking at the corners of your eyes. You’d been so close.

“Because,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “The only way I want you to cum is on my cock.”

Before you can fully register his words, he grabs you by the hips and flips you around, pulling your dress up and bunching it in one fist. Your panties are roughly yanked down around your ankles and you have to brace yourself against the shelf as you feel the hard bulge of Hizashi’s pants rub against your bared ass. A sharp smack to one cheek causes you to yelp, and a quick smack to the other forces you to bring your hand down on the button.

“Cheater.” You pant, earning a dark chuckle for the man behind you.

“Name-calling are we now, baby? Just for that, you don’t get to cum until I say so. Understood?”

You nod quickly, glancing behind you when you feel him start to fiddle with his belt and zipper. Your eyes widen when you see his painfully erect cock spring free: long, thick, and with a silver ring adorning the reddened tip. He gives the length a few short pumps, coaxing out a pearly bead of precum that quickly winds its way around the Prince Albert piercing.

“I think someone likes what she sees.” He says coyly, flicking one finger against the metal for emphasis. “Ever been with a pierced guy before?”

You shake your head and Mic smirks.

“Then trust me. You’re gonna love this, babygirl.”

He lines the head up with your entrance and starts to slowly push into you, the initial stretch causing you to hiss in pain. But the burn soon melts into pleasure as Hizashi buries himself to the hilt, bottoming out with a grunt of his own. You can feel the metal ring bumping against your cervix already, a low moan escaping when he gives a few shallow thrusts.

“Good girl. Takin’ me so well. So tight and perfect.” He mutters breathlessly, voice barely above a whisper. The praise makes you whimper and clamp down on his cock, earning a moan of pleasure from Hizashi. He starts to move in earnest, pumping in and out of you at a steady pace. Each forward thrust pushes your face closer to the wall, your breasts brushing back and forth across the cool wooden shelf and stimulating your pebbled nipples.Your mind is floating in a haze of hedonistic bliss as the air around you fills with the sounds of slapping skin and the scent of sex. You can already feel your orgasm racing towards you at a breakneck speed, the coil in your belly tightening with each thrust. Hizashi suddenly sinks his teeth into your right shoulder with a an almost feral growl, blunted teeth nearly piercing the skin. You squeal at the brilliant pain, only to feel his tongue lave over the forming welts, soothing them. You automatically bring your hand down on the button and his pace quickens in response, rewarding you by maneuvering his hips until he finds the spot that makes your vision go white and your mind go blank. 

“Th-th-there!” You sputter out, smacking the button before instinctually backing into him. You don’t give a damn about your boss or the money anymore. All you can focus on right now is chasing your own mind-numbing pleasure. He gives a hum of acknowledgement and straightens up, angling his thrusts to hit that spot every time. He can feel the way your walls flutter and shiver, right on the edge of release.

“That’s it, babygirl.” He grunts, licking the pad of his fingers before reaching below your bodies to find your clit. Slender digits rubs tight circles on the swollen bead, the rough touch making you almost sob in relief. “Cum for me. Cum all over my cock!”

It’s a demand, one that your body is more than ready to obey. With one final circle of his thumb, the pressure snaps and you cry out in toe-curling ecstasy. It feels like your entire body locks up from the intensity of your orgasm and Hizashi gives a cry of his own when he feels the way your pussy clamps down on him like a vise. He forgoes gentleness in favor of animalistic rutting, gripping your hips to set a brutal and unforgiving pace. His cockhead and piercing continually slam into your g-spot and cervix, lengthening your own orgasm to an almost unbearable extent.

“Shit.” He curses, pistoning into you like a rabbit while his balls slap against your clit. “I’m fuckin’ close. Where do you want it?”

“Cum in me!” You wail, the game forgotten as fireworks explode behind your eyes. “Please! Hizashi! I need it.”

Hearing you beg so sweetly for him snaps what little composure he had left. Hizashi lets loose a guttural howl and after a few harsh thrusts, his hips stutter to a halt. You can feel his cock pulsing deep within you, filling you up with rope after rope of thick, white seed. He stays inside you for a moment, breathing heavily and feeling the way your velvety walls throb around his length. Your body feels hot and heavy, head swimming as you gradually come down from the high. Eventually, Present Mic pulls his spent dick from your abused hole, pausing to admire the way his cum oozes out and drips onto the wood floor before pulling your panties back up. Your legs might as well be made of jelly for how useful they are right now, wobbling on your stilettos as you hold onto the shelf for dear life.

“That…” You pant, “That was good. So good.”

“Yeah?” Hizashi says behind you, tucking himself back into his trousers before smoothing one hand up and down your exposed back. His gentle touch causes goosebumps to rise on your skin, your nerves still overly sensitive.

“Yeah.” You breathe, “I needed that.”

Hizashi smirks and leans down to pepper kisses along your shoulder blades, basking in the afterglow alongside you. You practically melt under his affections, never wanting this tender, warm feeling to end.

“Can you stand?” He asks after a few minutes and you weakly nod. Carefully, he helps you stand upright, brushing a few stray pieces of hair behind your ear while you fix your dress and cover your chest once more. Hizashi then moves to fix his own half-bun, smirking at the way you’re dreamily looking up at him.

“Hey space cadet.” He teases, tapping the tip of your nose with one finger. “Come back to Earth for me, will ya? We better get outta here before your nanny cow calls the cops. Or worse, Endeavor.”

You blink slowly and hum in agreement, lazily looking over at the button one last time. And then you freeze. A new message is scrolling across the screen:

Congratulations! You have won lot #114. Please collect your prize.

“Oh my god…” You whisper, feeling your blissful headspace drown under an icy wave of fear. “Oh my god, NO! What the fuck did I just do?”

“Hm?” Hizashi turns to the screen and it’s too-cheerful message. “Oh! Well wouldja look at that?”

“Why are you being so calm about this!?” You shriek, grabbing him by the lapels of the tuxedo and frantically shaking him. “My boss is going to kill me! I have no idea what I– what he just bought! It could be a dildo in the shape of All Might’s dick for all I know!”

“Hey, hey! Chill out, baby!” Hizashi says, placing both hands on your shoulders to steady you. “Just breathe for me, okay? Nice and slow. You didn’t buy anything like that, I promise.”

“How do you know?” You squeak, trying not to hyperventilate.

“Because I know exactly what they were auctioning off with that lot number.”

“Then spare me the dramatics and spit it out, Hizashi! What did I just win!?”

“... Me.”

The world seems to stop for a moment as you stare up at Hizashi’s sheepish face. You open and close your mouth like a goldfish, your overloaded brain trying to find the right words to say. It settles on a neanderthalic, “Huh?”

“You won me.” He repeats, “Well not forever anyways. Just for 24 hours.”

“I don’t understand. Are you trying to be funny?”

“I’m dead serious, baby! The Anonymous Auction doesn’t just offer material stuff. People can bid on and win “dates” with Pro Heroes. The more popular the Pro, the more money comes in. I volunteered to do it this year since a couple of my buddies did it last year.”

You blink slowly, allowing your panicky brain to process this new information.

“So… is that why you brought me here? Because you knew it was time for the bidding to start on your date?”

“I swear, I had no idea.” Hizashi says, crossing an X over his heart for emphasis. “I just wanted a chance to talk to you more and get ya away from that creep of a partner you came with. It was honestly just a lucky coincidence.”

“And the quiet game?”

“I came up with that on the fly when I saw my lot number on the screen. But I didn’t expect you to actually win the auction. And if you don’t wanna go through with this because of your boss or me, then I totally get it. You can always defer to the second highest bidder. That kinda thing happens all the time.”

You step back from Hizashi and turn away, muttering a quick, “Give me a minute.” 

Looking past the insanity of the situation, you had to admit you were a little impressed, even grateful, for Hizashi’s scheme. He’d saved you from dealing with Buru, at least for a little while, and made sure you had a fun time doing it. And besides, it’s not like you weren’t attracted to the man. Sure he was loud and goofy, but he was also sweet and charismatic. Not to mention a damn good lay.

“... Okay.” You say after a few moments of thought, snapping your attention back to Hizashi. “Here’s what I want to do.”

You hold up one finger.

“First of all, I want to find a bathroom and get myself cleaned up. This is a nice dress and I don’t want it to get stained, if you catch my drift.”

Hizashi nods in understanding. You put up a second finger.

“Secondly, I’m absolutely starving. So I want to get some water and food. And maybe a glass of champagne.”

Hizashi cracks a smile at that, giving a chuckle of “You got it, baby.”

“And finally,” You say, stepping forward to grab Hizashi by the front of his jacket and pull him in for a kiss. “I want to collect my prize.”

[iammyownqueen]

The friend of my friend (is an annoying acquaintance)

"Nino, why the fuck do you have a credit card with Chloe’s face on it?”

Nino and Chloe are not friends. They both, however, love Adrien. Maybe that's enough.

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Link to AO3 here

“Hey Nino, why the fuck do you have a credit card with Chloe’s face on it?” Alya asked. She held up the card with a curious expression on her face.

“Um?” Nino rubbed the back of his neck. “Wait, why were you even in my wallet?”

 “I...was gonna put a photo of me in your wallet, to surprise you,” she said, pulling out the photo from her pocket. Her shoulders slumped at being caught.

Nino suppressed a smile. His girlfriend was awesome.

“Well?” she asked, holding the card up again.

“I can explain!” He winced. “I can’t explain.”

“Why not?”

“Because I promised Chloe I wouldn’t!”

“Chloe?! You’re keeping secrets with Chloe? Now this I gotta hear.”

She sat down next to him on the couch. “Spill.”

“I already told you Ayla I can’t.”

“Oh come on, you really expect Chloe to keep her word? Why shouldn’t you tell?”

“I trust her to keep her word with this. Besides, she’s the one who swore me to secrecy.”

“Come on, please?” Alya flashed her best puppy dog eyes.

Nino bit his lip. “Fine.”

“Yes!” she said, pumping her fists in the air.

“But-” Nino pointed a finger at her, poking her sternum with every word. “You. Cannot. Tell. Anyone. Not Chloe, not your sisters, and especially not Marinette or Adrien. Okay?”

“Geez Nino, relax. I know how to keep a secret.”

He gave her one last uncertain look. “Okay. This is what happened…”

~

“Well? Aren’t you going to let me in?”

Nino stood in the doorway with his mouth agape.

“Chloe? What are you doing here?”

“Does it matter? Come on!” She blustered. She took Nino’s arm and all but dragged him into the house.

“Is anyone else home?” She asked, depositing Nino and herself on the couch.

“I-Um.” His face suddenly felt very hot. “Chloe I don’t-”

“Oh, as if,” She said, reading his face instantly. She gave a face that clearly said ew.

“Then why are you here, dude- I mean Chloe.”

She pursed her lips and for a second, she even looked uncertain. Then a second later, she snapped right back to her bossy self.

“This conversation never happened, understand? I forbid you to tell anyone, not Adrien, not any of your geeky friends, not even your own mother.”

“Okay.”

“Swear it!” she demanded.

“Okay, okay, I swear!” Nino held up his arms in defeat.

She sat back down on the couch and wrung her hands. She definitely looked uncertain now.

“Have you noticed anything strange about what Adrien eats for lunch every day?”

“Well, yeah. His dad always has him on some diet or another.”

“It's ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous! Adrikins has never needed a diet to look fabulous.”

“Hey, I agree with you there. His dad’s a total bummer. There’s no way Adrien ever needs to lose weight. He’s stick thin as is.”

She pursed her lips again, as if she was already regretting what she was about to say.

“A few years ago, his dad crossed a line. The diet had him eating next to nothing as is, and Adrien…” She looked down at her lap and sighed. “Adrien wanted to impress his dad, so he started eating even less than he was supposed to. His dad took him off the diet eventually, but it was too late. Adrian had stopped eating, and when he did eat, it wasn’t nearly enough. It got so bad that he had to go to the hospital for over a month for his anorexia.”

Nino stared at her, shell shocked. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because Adrien is my friend, and even though I don’t approve of his friendship with-” she looked at him as if he was the most disgusting dead rat she had ever seen, “-you, I know you care about him too.”

“Thanks?” said Nino, honestly not sure if it was a compliment or not.

Her voice softened. “I watch you guys having lunch sometimes. He’ll never admit it, but I know it’s getting bad again.”

Nino set his jaw. “What are we gonna do about it?”

Chloe’s smirk could only be described as mischievous.

“We do this.” She slapped down a small plastic rectangle with her picture on it. A credit card, Nino realized.

“Um, what?”

“It’s a credit card, dumbass.”

“I know what a credit card is, Chloe. What does that have to do with Adrien?”

She rolled her eyes. “Adrikins would never openly defy his father, but if you ‘accidentally’ bring an extra lunch to school-”

“And it would be a shame for all this food to go to waste.”

“Ew, don’t interrupt me. ‘It would be a shame for all this food to go to waste, would you pretty, pretty please finish it off for me?’” She batted her eyelashes in a pleading expression.

Nino nodded contentedly. “I think I’m smelling what you’re stepping in.”

“What!?!” Chloe immediately started inspecting her shoes.

“It’s just an expression,” Nino shrugged.

Chloe growled.

“Alright, so we just start tricking him into eating food while he’s away from home?” Nino said, anxious to change the subject.

“We don’t do anything. You are going to do it.”

"Why not you?"

“Ugh, are you stupid? If it's coming from me, he’ll know right away what we’re doing. No, it has to be you.”

"Fair enough, I guess." He wasn't sure how accurate that statement was, but he decided he wasn't going to push it.

"Here," Chloe said, handing him a piece of paper. "It's a list of Adrikins favorite foods and flavors, plus a bunch of things his father never lets him eat, with or without a diet."

Nino wished he could be surprised at the amount of foods on the Do Not Eat list, but Gabrial Agreste was such a grade A dickwad that it almost didn’t phase him anymore.

A horn beeped from outside.

“I’m leaving,” Chloe said, getting up from the couch. Nino was following her out when she suddenly whipped around and grabbed him by the shirt. “If you use that card for anything besides food, and for anyone besides Adrien, I will punch you in the dick with a cactus. Understand?”

Nino nodded frantically.

“Good,” she said, letting him go.

She gave him one last glance before walking out the door. Nino could’ve sworn she actually smiled at him.

Then she was gone.

~

“His son has a history of anorexia and he’s still forcing him to go on diets?” Alya said in disbelief.

Nino nodded.

“I’m gonna punch him in the dick with a cactus.”

“Get in line dude.”

“Wait, is that why Marinette’s been bringing baked goods to lunch for the past two months?”

Nino shrugged. “I have a running tab at the bakery. Well, technically Chloe has a running tab.”

“I still can’t believe Chloe gave you a credit card.”

“She cares about Adrien too, in her own way.”

“I guess it is nice to know that she has a heart somewhere, beneath all that ice.”

~

“Adrien, Nino,” Alya called from behind them when they both sat down on Monday morning. “My mom got me and my sisters croissants for breakfast. Can you believe none of them wanted any?”

She offered them the container with the last two croissants, she and Marinette having already finished theirs.

“Really? No way!” Nino said, already taking one.

Adrien reached for one, but hesitated at the last second.

“Come on,” she urged lightly. “While they’re still warm.”

Adrien looked up at her and smiled before finally taking one. “Thanks Alya!”

Alya caught Nino’s eye and gave him a wink. Even from across the room, there could be no mistaking Chloe’s smile.

[fangirlshrewt97]

Circle: Yes or YES

Fandom: The Old Guard

Pairing: Joe x Nicky (Yusuf al-Kaysani/Nicolo di Genova)

Read on AO3

                                                        ----

Nicky was sitting at their latest safe house’s dining table writing a grocery list of items they would need for him to prepare a particular dish from the 1500’s Quynh had loved and insisted on having again. It had taken them some time to come back to this particular house, a modest place in bustling Istanbul, a crossroads they had often travelled through in their earlier days. Nicky had taken to writing the recipes for dishes their little family particularly enjoyed around his second century. He had realized both how difficult it was to recall the specifics of making some dishes, and the scarcity of particular ingredients in particular regions.

He was finishing up the last items in his list when he heard the chair opposite to him being pulled out.

“Almost done, habibi?” Joe asked.

Nicky hummed without looking up, bringing the book closer as he tried to decipher his own writing from the remnants of ink from five centuries ago. He scribbled his last two ingredients, cardamom and cloves, on his list.

When he looked up, he blinked at the small piece of paper that was sitting folded in front of him. When he glanced at Joe with a raised eyebrow, all he got was Joe’s ‘butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth’ innocent look. Honest to god twiddling his thumbs.

Squinting at him, Nicky reached for the paper, bringing it closer. It looked like a normal paper, torn off of one of Joe’s notebooks. Flipping it open, Nicky looked at the contents in disbelief before snorting loudly.

In the center of the sheet, in Joe’s lovely cursive handwriting, were the words:

                                           DO YOU LIKE ME?

                                          CIRCLE: Yes or YES

This man. This ridiculous, 900-year-old man that made Nicky’s heart both melt and race. So full of love and mischief and an infallible ability to make him happy. Nicky clenched his jaw to not break into a smile. He picked up his pen and wrote a tidy NO before folding it and sliding the paper back to Joe.

Joe who had been sitting across from him with a wide-eyed look of anticipation and excitement. Who’s tail would definitely have been wagging if he had one. Who nearly ripped the paper in excitement reaching for it.

Joe who whined and gave Nicky one of the most impressive forlorn looks combined with a big pout that the Genovean man had ever seen.

Nicky put all his willpower into not breaking his facade as he threw him a dead pan look before getting up. He packed his completed list along with his wallets and car keys into a shoulder bag. He checked the kitchen to make sure everything was properly cleaned up before returning to the table. Joe was still there, slouched over the table and pawing at the note.

Shaking his head at his husband’s antics, Nicky sets his bag next to Joe’s head before placing a hand on Joe’s shoulder. “Get up Joe.”

Nicky huffed a laugh when Joe shrugged his arm off with a petulant “No”.  

Looping his arm around Joe’s shoulders, he pushed, pulling him up until there was enough space for Nicky to seat himself on Joe’s lap.

Joe’s arms automatically came to wrap around his waist, making Nicky smile. Yet when he leaned in for a kiss, Joe turned his head, pout still in place. Laughing against Joe’s cheek, Nicky placed a soft kiss there before leaning back. “Come on amore, are you still upset?”

Joe turned to look at him, and really, how is it fair a grown man is able to pull off such an adorable long face. “You wrote you didn’t like me.”

Nicky smiled serenely back at him, bringing one hand to cup Joe’s nape while another carded through his curls. “That’s true, I don’t like you.”

Joe whined. “Nicolo.”

Nicky cracked, laughing even as it just made his husband’s frown worsen.

When he was able to bring his laughter into control, he leaned closer, resting his forehead against the side of Joe’s head so he was speaking directly into his ear. “Oh hayati, I do not like you. I adore you. I cherish you. I am breathless in front of you. I am overwhelmed by you. I see you and some days am nearly blinded by how brightly you shine. Some days I am brought to my knees by your beauty, you kindness, and others am overcome with the urge to thank every god and higher power in existence for allowing me to spend so many days at your side. I am charmed and captivated and wholly lost to you. I am yours for as long as my heart beats, because it is in your hands. In the face of all that, how can what I feel for you merely be reduced to liking you? It is such a small word for all that I feel for you. Saying I like you would be doing us both an injustice.”

Nicky lifted his head. He saw tears at the corners of Joe’s eyes, which were looking at him with a profound devotion he was certain was reflected in his own eyes. “Nico.” Joe whispers.

Gently kissing the tears away, Nicky tilted Joe’s head to kiss him properly. To let him know the steadfast love that has endured for 900 years, and will endure for centuries, no, millenia more. Joe held him tightly, a grip that secured him closely to his anchor in this world. They were both panting slightly when they parted, foreheads resting against each other as they breathed together.

“For the record, I feel the same way about you, moon of my life. But.” and here Joe pulled back, looking at him with a shit-eating grin that means Nicky already knows what’s coming. “I also like you too”.

Lightly slapping Joe’s face, Nicky laughed, “You impossible man.”

He untangled himself from Joe’s arms, moving to pick up his bag. When he looked at Joe, the man was still looking at him with an adoring look in his eyes that makes Nicky sigh. “Do you want to come with me to the market to buy the things for dinner?”

Joe’s face split into a wide smile as he jumped up from the chair. He pulled Nicky in to smack a loud kiss to his cheek that had him chuckling, before racing towards their room. “Give me two minutes, I’ll change into actual pants.”

Shaking his head fondly at his husband’s antics, Nicky’s eyes landed on the note again. Tracing the handwriting once, Nicky folded the note again. He grabbed the old recipe book from the table, flicking through the pages until he finds one of Joe’ favorites. Placing the note in between the pages, he closed the book again. It looked like he would have to add a couple extra ingredients to his list after all.

He couldn’t have his love thinking he didn’t like him, now could he?

[kookiebunnii]

lucky in love || min yoongi

→ summary: you didn’t expect to start your day with an arrow to the heart, quite literally, but neither did you expect to meet cupid himself. quickly realizing that you aren’t dramatically falling in love from the effects of cupid’s arrow, the two of you unexpectedly team up to solve this curious dilemma. however, at the end of it all, what if cupid is the one falling in love?

→ pairing: cupid!yoongi x reader

→ genre: roman/greek mythology au, fluff 

→ word count: 6.6k

→ warnings: mature language

→ a/n: this is sort of a half-gift to myself and @cinnaminsvga​, the author who actually inspired me to write again. i just hit 200 followers, and i guess i also wanted zee to know that her works definitely motivate and inspire others!

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡     

Sitting in your armchair, embroidering little white carnations into the hem of the wedding dress in your hands, you truly thought that you couldn’t be any more content. This particular order had recently prompted the idea of “love” into your mind whenever you worked, as your customer had practically beamed with excitement when talking about her fiancée. Although your family and friends seemingly had your relationship status on the forefront of their minds, it wasn’t something you chose to fret about. You’d had your fair share of boyfriends, men you enjoyed spending time with and even one you thought about a “happily ever after” with. But of course, your career and independent personality typically got in the way.

It had led to heartaches and internal turmoil early on in your life, but now you were a freelancer, a fashion designer making clothes from your apartment. It wasn’t the most luxurious life imaginable, but it was the life you wanted. You were able to do what you loved while helping others. Romantic love just wasn’t on this week’s to-do list...orders were.

You set the piece down and slowly rotate your wrists to chase the stiffness away from your joints. Taking a sip of your chamomile tea, you watch as the horizon outside your window lights the buildings aglow with an orange and pink hue. The colors are beautiful, and you’re briefly inspired. Heading to your workbench in the room next to you, you grab your pocket notebook and scribble down the colors you see outside. You always wrote little notes in this particular journal, hoping to use it for your own creative works someday if not for a future customer’s order. Examining the words “pink, orange, yellow blending” in your casual scrawl, you flip to previous pages to reread your past bouts of inspiration.

You sigh, knowing that this wedding dress was your last big order for the month. Perhaps you now have enough time and funds saved up to work on something for yourself next week.

Your discarded cell phone on the couch begins beeping incessantly, so you set your notebook back down and skirt over to check what it’s for. You make a small sound of happiness, remembering that you had ordered Thai food for dinner tonight. Taking off your work apron and hanging it on a hook in your office, you find the warmest coat you own before rushing out the door.

Weather these days is like a finicky child who can’t make up his mind. In the daylight you’d have to pull on a t-shirt and a long skirt to fully appreciate the rare breezes that danced through the open windows. However, after sunset, temperatures could drop quite steeply. You’re reminded of this again when you’re forced to tuck your hands into your pockets and tell yourself to hurry.

The street is lit with soft lamplight and despite the cold and hunger resting in your belly, the artist in you can’t help but appreciate how beautiful this sight is as well. Round circles of yellow going from intense to faded against a midnight blue backdrop fill your thoughts. It’s so distracting that you almost walk past your destination without realizing.

Quickly backpedaling a few steps, you head into Thai Us Together—you must give the owners credit for their pun-tastic name—and greet the familiar worker at the front desk. She engages you in some polite conversation before handing you your usual order and bidding you goodbye.

It’s only when you are a few steps away from the entrance to your apartment complex that you are hit in the chest by an arrow.

You realize this not because you feel any sort of pain from the attack, but because a translucent arrow radiating a pinkish glow is now visibly protruding from your front. Firmly planted above your ribs, you’re momentarily at a loss. Perhaps any normal person would be screaming in terror, but you just stare, wide-eyed, wondering if you were dreaming. Things never got this crazy in your dreams though.

“Why isn’t it working?”

You blink and suddenly there’s a dark-haired, pale-faced man in front of you. He doesn’t look much older than you, as he stands in front of you with his arms crossed. Frowning in discontent, he stares in the direction of your chest unabashedly and you feel that you have the right to be more than a little offended.

“Um, hello? My eyes are up here.”

When his eyes finally find yours, they’re filled with shock with a little bit of fear mixed in. You almost wonder if you’d grown a second head or something, with the way he was staring at you.

“You can see me?” he asks, pointing at himself as you roll your eyes in response.

“Who else is staring at my chest around here? Yes, you.”

The boy starts laughing, his gums showing cutely in response to your curt reply. You can feel your cheeks warming as you wonder whether your statement deserved to be received with this much amusement.

“You’re a funny one,” he finally notes, before a worried expression takes over his features again, “But you’re human aren’t you? You shouldn’t be able to see me.”

You adjust your takeout in your hands before resting a hand on your hip, “Well, I see you very clearly. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have pad thai to enjoy and an arrow to the heart to deal with.”

He grabs your arm, and the touch is so palpable that you know now that you’re definitely not dreaming. You turn to meet the stranger’s gaze again, and the curiosity filling his brown eyes is undeniable.

“You see the arrow too?” he whispers in awe, gesturing to the faint but very noticeable projectile still lodged in your front.

Sighing, you say, “Okay at least I’m not hallucinating this then. Look, I need to try and get this thing out and get to my dinner. If you don’t have any suggestions on how to remove arrows that don’t even feel like they’re actually there, then I suggest you head home.”

He follows you through the gate, matching your hurried steps with ease until you finally snap and turn on him. He almost bumps into you as a result of your sudden halt but quickly readjusts himself and looks at you with an unreadable expression.

After a short glaring contest, he gives you a small smile with a glint in his eye, “I know exactly how to get that out. In fact, I was the one who shot it.”

 ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡    

 Maybe all these years of living alone has finally dulled your warning senses to the point where you were fine letting dangerous strangers into your home. You’d always been too trusting of a person, but you felt too tired and confused to put up much of a fight tonight anyways. You just wanted to enjoy one of your favorite noodle dishes and get rid of whatever black magic was involved in this painless arrow buried inside you. If it meant inviting a random puzzling but handsome individual into your abode, then so be it.

As you dig into your meal, you watch as your guest sips on his glass of water. He had denied your offer of food, but you could at least say you were a polite host. With your stomach now appeased, you take your own gulp of water before launching into an interrogation.

“Who are you?” you ask.

He tilts his head, observing you for what feels like the seventh time that day. Finally, he leans back in his seat in thought. The silence permeates your residence for a good minute before he finally utters, “I’m Cupid, God of desire, attraction, and affection.”

You stop mid-chew to openly gawk at the black-haired male in front of you. This boy, dressed in a large hoodie and ripped jeans, is supposed to be the fat baby featured on Valentine’s Day cards? Maybe you brought a crackhead into your home.

“I know what you’re thinking. You mortals have ruined my image recently and as a result I am no longer receiving the respect I deserve,” he purses his lips before setting his water glass aside and openly observing you again, “But I am in fact Cupid.

“Okay let’s say you are Cupid or whatever and you shot me. Doesn’t this mean I’m supposed to fall in love now or something? I don’t feel anything other than a desire to finish the rest of this delicious pad thai.”

He doesn’t even smile at your attempt at lighthearted humor, instead wrinkling his brow further at your words.

“That is rather curious.”

Fiddling with a stray bean sprout on your plate, you add, “Well, could we start with removing this first?”

He finally gives you an amused grin when you gesture to the faint outline of an arrow above your ribs, which appears to be growing increasingly hard to see as time passes. Maybe you are finally going off the deep end.

“It’ll disappear soon,” and as soon as the words leave his lips, the arrow has faded entirely. He turns slightly, and a quiver suddenly appears on his back. You count 11 arrows before another slowly fills the remaining empty spot to complete the final dozen.

Your jaw is practically on the floor at this display.

“I need to figure out why this is happening,” he muses, resting his chin on his hand and training his unwavering gaze on you once again.

Jeez, you were starting to feel like an exhibit at the zoo.

“Look, as much as I appreciate meeting a god, I have work to do and a deadline to meet. I’m sure this is very fascinating, but frankly I’d rather not fall in love anyways so I’m quite glad this didn’t work,” you stand up to set your cleared dish in the sink before heading for the door to escort him out.

“Why not?” he asks, as if he couldn’t imagine why anyone would ever not want to be in love.

You turn after undoing the lock at your door to find that he still hasn’t budged from his chair. Clearly not on the same page as you are, you saunter over to him and do your best to give him a menacing look, “I’m happy the way I am. Now are you leaving?”

You definitely weren’t usually this rude, but the amalgamation of your anxiety to get back to work and the confusion of trying to understand what was happening to you made for a deadly combo. Today’s events were definitely giving you a short fuse. If this offends him, Cupid sure doesn’t show it, because he just gives you a small tilt of his lips before heading to your kitchen to wash his empty cup.

You watch, mystified, as he sets his cup on the drying rack before washing the plate you had left in the sink earlier. At this point you rush forward, embarrassed, but he simply shakes the excess water off the plate before leaving it next to his discarded cup. You thought Cupid was supposed to be mischievous, and maybe this guy was, but he was definitely going out of his way to be nice to you.

“Thanks” you mumble halfheartedly, suddenly feeling a bit regretful that you were trying your damnedest to shoo him out earlier.

He chuckles, drying his hands on your teacloth hanging nearby before asking, “Can I ask you some questions?”

Deciding that no ill-natured person would go through the trouble of washing your dishes before murdering you, you lead him to your living room where you were previously working on embroidery. The wedding dress is still resting on the arm of the chair you previously occupied, so you briefly excuse yourself to move the large piece back to your workspace.

When you come back, he seems to be running his tongue against the inside of his cheek in thought. It distracts you for a bit until he finally asks, “Are you getting married?”

Sputtering with a bright fuchsia across your cheekbones, you quickly reply, “No! No, it’s an order for a customer. I’m a designer.”

He sighs in relief, “Thank Zeus, I honestly thought I had lost all of my powers including my sense. Maybe it’s just my arrows that are faulty.”

When he notices how you’re looking at him quizzically, he kindly explains, “Usually, getting hit with my arrow means you fall in love with the person I’ve assigned. For some reason that clearly hasn’t happened for you. Besides, you’re definitely not supposed to see me or my arrows unless I will it to happen.”

You frown, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth as you think. If this dark-haired boy is to be trusted, was there actually something wrong with you? Additionally, who had he chosen for you? Maybe if it was meant to be and all that jazz, you could just have Cupid introduce the two of you and he can be on his way. That’d be much simpler than trying to wrap your head around the idea that Roman Gods existed.

“Who’s the person?”

He smirks, appearing to be amused at your shy remark, “Mortals are simple creatures. It matters more whether your significant other is as good-looking as you imagined than the possibility that something is very wrong with you.”

“Hey, I didn’t say that. Besides, you could just wingman me with the guy you picked and then go back to shooting people for fun. You’re acting like the end of the world is coming.”

Lounging on your couch, he grabs one of the decorative pillows next to him and begins playing with the loose strands like an easily entertained cat. You sit down next to him, grabbing the other cushion to hold in your arms for security while he exhales in disappointment.

“It’s not that easy. This isn’t something that’s supposed to happen,” he admits, tossing the pillow aside and training his eyes on you.

“Well, you could always ask one of your fellow gods, right? Isn’t your mom Venus or something? I’m sure she has plenty of experience in the love department,” you suggest, wondering if you were being too gullible by accepting and participating in his fantastical stories.

He scoffs, “If she knew about you, she’d just tell me to kill you.”

“Okay so we won’t be asking her for help under any circumstances. Got it.”

He laughs again, and you can’t help but crack a smile of your own. Maybe in another world, if he just happened to be a random boy you bumped into one day, you’d actually want to be friends with him. But in your reality, he was supposed to be a god. If your lessons in Roman mythology meant anything, humans should probably fear those like him instead of inviting them into their one-bedroom apartments.

“You’re probably one of the more amusing mortals I’ve met recently,” he grins, “Do you still want to know who I chose for you?”

Heart racing, it was as if you could feel your pulse thrumming in anticipation. Wasn’t this what every person wanted? To know who they would end up with, to know who they were supposed to love until their last breath? Even if you were a self-declared non-romantic, the idea was still interesting. Its appeal was still undeniable, even if it wasn’t a priority for you.

But then you hesitated, wondering if it was beneficial for you to even know this. Did you like the idea of this cheeky boy just randomly selecting a guy for you? Maybe free will was just an illusion, but how would you even go about your life if you knew that you were supposed to be with someone—no alternatives? That kind of pressure just didn’t float your boat at all.

“Never mind actually. It’s probably better if you don’t tell me.”

This statement surprises him, because he actually leans forward to rest his palm against your forehead with a concerned expression on his features. Up close, you can see the pretty faint freckles across the bridge of his nose and the small speckles of gold in his irises. No, this boy is definitely not human.

“What happened to Y/N?” he jokes, laughing when you brush his hand away to look at him with a frown.

“Look, it doesn’t mean I’m not curious. Besides, now I can pick who I want to be with without your ministrations being a part of it,” you huff, crossing your arms.

Smirking, you can see the mischievousness lighting up his eyes at your words, “And how will you know that the man you’ve ‘picked’ isn’t just someone else I’ve chosen to hit you through the heart with?”

You don’t respond at his teasing question which causes your guest to lean back once again with satisfaction. If he really was the omnipotent entity he claimed to be, you guess you wouldn’t really know if you liked someone out of your own volition. At least you could now pin the blame of being with some of your past exes as a result of Cupid’s interference and not your lack of good judgment.

“I’m going to have to monitor you for a few days. I’ll head back to Olympus every once in a while, seeing if I can find any answers for this oddity. If anything strange happens, just call for me.”

You pull out your cell on instinct, and he laughs while taking the device and slipping it back into your pocket. Instead, he takes your hands in his and intertwines your fingers together as if you were praying.

“You want me to pray to you and you’ll just show up?” you ask incredulously, trying hard to ignore the way you could feel the blood rushing to your head at his warm touch against the backs of your hands.

He nods, “It’s how it used to be, back when you all believed in us. I’ll be off now. See you tomorrow.”

One second, he’s there and the next he’s not. Standing awkwardly in the middle of your living room, fingers interlocked, you could genuinely convince yourself that you had just had an extremely hyper realistic dream. Unfortunately, the lingering heat of his hold on you remains undeniable.

 ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡    

 Enjoying the tart taste spreading across your tongue from your homemade lemon tea, you set your glass down before admiring the semi-finished piece in front of you. You had set the wedding dress onto a mannequin in your studio after completing the final details to better observe the overall look. You need to pull in the waist a bit more and fix the neckline, so you step forward to remove the dress and get to work again.

“It looks nice.”

The sudden words cause you to almost trip over your own feet and you have no choice but to grab your mannequin for balance. Cupid chuckles from behind you, and you glance at him wide-eyed long enough to catch what look like wings folding behind his back before they disappear.

“Hello,” you squeak, surprised at his random entrance after leaving you alone for two days.

“You’re quite talented for someone who designs and makes the pieces herself,” he muses, stepping closer to you to catch the fabric of the lace sleeve in his fingertips.

“It’s nothing really. I’m just a decent option for someone looking for something original and unique, I suppose.”

He tilts your chin up to look at him and the motion sends an entire series of shockwaves through your system. No one had been this close to you in a long time, so maybe you were just reacting because of the unfamiliarity. 

Yeah, that’s probably what it was.

Cupid hesitates, as if he had lost his train of thought, before quickly recovering, “Give yourself more credit, love.”

Pulling away from you, he leans back against your workbench with his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. Shaking the bangs away from his eyes, he says, “Do you feel any different?”

“No. I had half the mind that I just dreamt the whole thing,” you reply, finally letting go of the mannequin and stepping towards your desk to find some thread and a sewing needle.

He hums in thought, watching your movements as he says, “I haven’t had much luck either. I went to Vulcan, asked him if he could look at my arrows. He said they were in good working order but replaced a few of them anyways at my request.”

“Vulcan? Is that Hephaestus’s Roman name?”

“Yes, I wonder why Greek names are more familiar to you. Perhaps schooling is different nowadays,” he comments, watching as you take a seat across from him and begin making your adjustments.

“If it’s any consolation, they do look shinier than before,” you tease, pointing at the quiver appearing on his back.

He gives you an amused chuckle, pulling out one of the arrows to examine it from its point to the sleek feathers at its very end. When it finally disappears from his hands to return to its home on his back, he quips, “Are you sure you’re not a demigod?”

The question catches you off guard for sure, but you decide to play his game anyways, and think back to your parents. Did they ever do anything that seemed…otherworldly? Did they seem like the type of people to run off and have a tryst with some Olympian god or goddess?

Haha, definitely not.

You shake your head, giggling at the possibility since you knew your parents very well. He takes your answer with a nod and continues looking out towards the large window at the scene outside. The sky is a pale blue today with fluffy white clouds gliding by with ease. You were almost done with this order, and you planned to ship it to your customer this weekend. Maybe you’d enjoy a picnic outside to celebrate afterwards.

“Do you…have another name that you use? Calling you Cupid just seems weird. I still can’t get the name to disassociate from the image of a chubby winged baby in my head.”

He takes your question seriously, a trait you notice by the way he’s seemingly lost in thought. You wait patiently though, continuing to work on your methodical stiches as he ponders.

“Yoongi,” he finally says, appearing satisfied.

“Yoongi? That’s an interesting choice,” you reply, feeling the way this new name rolled off your tongue.

“It was the name of a mortal I knew. I quite like it.”

You accept his choice, finishing your alteration on the neckline and deciding to call it a day. You’ll spend the next few days attaching the sequins, which was bound to be an exhausting task. Just as you’re about to set the dress back on your trusty mannequin, the sound of glass breaking causes you to scream.

A creature seemingly out of your worst nightmares crawls through the windowpane, flames of fire spilling from its mouth. You can’t help but cling onto the back of Yoongi’s sweatshirt once he backs up against you in a defensive stance. The monster looks like a lion from the front, but you notice what appears to be a snake lazily dancing back and forth from where its tail ought to be. Oh, and was that the head of a goat sticking out from its back?

You never thought about how you would die, but this sure wasn’t at the top of your list.

“Fuck, why is this here?” Yoongi growls, and the deep sound that resonates from his chest makes you tighten your fingers on him.

“What is it?” you ask, but the way your voice is compressed in fear barely lets the words escape from your lips. It seems to ignore Cupid altogether, the blazing coals it calls eyes refusing to look away from your fearful expression.

He ignores your question, instead sweeping you off your feet and uttering, “Hold on tight” before skirting around the edge of the room with the creature hot on his heels. You don’t need to be told twice, immediately ducking your head into his shoulder, trying your best to ignore the way the beast sounded dangerously close. When you finally dare to open your eyes, Yoongi has ducked through the gaping hole where your window once was with his hand on the back of your head. He looks down at you briefly before jumping off the ledge.

Your scream sticks in your throat, as you feel the pit of your stomach fall alongside your body. A second later however, the two of you are gliding upwards as if flying. The buildings are a blur with how fast you are going, so you opt to just close your eyes and keep a locked grip on your savior. Even though you had no clue where you were being taken, you sure as hell weren’t about to return to your apartment even if it hadn’t turned into a pile of ashes by now.

When Yoongi finally stops, it feels like an eternity has passed, and your head is so dizzy that you’re forced to lean against a tree for support. As you try to keep the contents of your stomach from making an appearance, you make out the blurry form of your new friend pacing back and forth with his hair a mess. He is very clearly stressed, so you shift to grip the side of his pant leg when he paces closer to you.

“We’re fine now,” you mumble, tugging him closer. You hope he sits down so you could lean your head on his shoulder. It was starting to get chilly and you want to get ahold of whatever warmth was currently available.

Perhaps he can read your mind too because he kneels in the grass in front of you and fixes the locks of hair plastered to your clammy skin. He doesn’t seem the least bit grossed out, instead having what looks like worry in those odd eyes of his.

“I can’t believe you’re reassuring me when I’m pretty sure you would’ve died if I weren’t there.”

The words bring you back to reality as you shudder uncontrollably. You definitely would’ve died. That thing looked like it could rip you in two if it truly wanted to, and you weren’t exactly skilled in self-defense. Maybe you were too dumb to realize the danger of the current situation, but you were more concerned by the fact that Yoongi looked deathly afraid.

“Was that something from…your world?” you ask, grateful for the gentle grasp Yoongi had on your wrists. It comforted you knowing that you weren’t alone in this chaos.

“That was a chimera. Our worlds are essentially one and the same, but yes, creatures like that usually don’t just stop by for a house party,” he grunts, shifting so he can sit in front of you with his legs splayed to corner you against the tree.

You still have your legs pulled against your chest, so you lean your cheek against your knees as you regard him intently. He didn’t look anything like a god, and if you saw Yoongi walking on the street you probably wouldn’t have given him a second look. This whole ordeal balanced on the edge of surreal, but you were sure now that with whatever just happened, you were in danger. You wish the arrow worked on you earlier. You would’ve fell in love with some random person but at least you wouldn’t be fearing for your life. Maybe you wouldn’t have met the living embodiment of attraction, but you would’ve been back to normalcy. Isn’t that well worth it?

Struggling to understand why your heart hesitated at the possibility of never meeting Yoongi, you’re barely aware that he is pulling you to your feet until he has an arm wrapped around your waist to support your weak form.

“Can you stand?” he asks, and his fingers feel like they are burning against your side. Even through your sweater, you clearly feel each indent against your skin.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you give him your best attempt at a smile, following him as he walks you further into the forest. Thankfully, he eventually lets you go when he’s assured that you can walk without passing out. His proximity was doing crazy things to your senses, so you are grateful that he let you process your experiences without distraction.

He’s led you to an inconspicuous cave whose entrance is covered by a few hanging willow branches. He brushes these aside before letting you crawl in. The inside is surprisingly dry and you finally take a seat on a smooth, protruding boulder in the corner to stretch your legs out from the trek.

“It’s not a 5-star hotel, but it should do for now. You’ll be safe here until I find out what’s going in,” he says, and in the darkness you can barely make out his form in front of you.

Snapping his fingers, a fire appears in front of you. As you realize that this fire appears to be without a fuel source, you are once again forced to accept that your life is never going to be the same. Hesitantly reaching out to warm your shaking fingers against the heat, you watch as the light of the flickering flames dance across Yoongi’s face. He looks worried and concerned for you, so you can’t help but look away.

Your hands itch for your notebook, but you simply make a mental note to yourself instead: fire and shadows, a golden-eyed boy, warmth.

At this point, he takes off his hoodie and you can’t help the way your eyes immediately dart to the sliver of skin that shows at his waist when his t-shirt rises alongside his movements. When Yoongi finally emerges, a hand running through his locks, you hope that the heat you’re feeling is only from the fire.

He wraps the garment around your shoulders before tying the sleeves around your arms without a word. Taking one last look at you, he lets his touch linger for a second too long against your thigh before he stands to take his leave. This time, you keep your eyes trained on his as he begins to slowly dissipate. You tell yourself that you won’t blink because as long as you’re looking, he can’t leave. Your weary gaze finally betrays you, and when you open your eyes, he’s gone.

 ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡    

 Turns out you wouldn’t have to worry about food, because every couple of hours, you’d magically find some food appearing by the fire Yoongi had made for you. Your phone had long since died, so you weren’t even sure what day it was. Using the appearance of the regular meals to gage the passing of time, you hoped that Cupid would come back for you soon. Your customer’s order would be due soon anyways. At this, you couldn’t help but giggle when you realized how much your commitments meant to you-- even if you were on the verge of getting eaten by a lion hybrid.

It appears that Yoongi had been more observant that you gave him credit for. Every meal, he has only given you pad thai with the ingredients you ordered the night you met him. It was cute how he went with something he knew you liked, likely worried that he could choose something you were allergic to or disliked. He did alternate between cool lemon tea in the mornings and warm chamomile tea in the evenings, but you are sure you won’t be ordering thai food for a long time after you get out of here.

Just as you finish the last of your tea while pondering actually praying to him to get him to show up, Yoongi appears before you. Without a second thought, you scramble up to give him a hug. It seems that even for a god, he doesn’t expect this. Your tackle causes him to briefly lose his balance.

“Easy there,” he laughs, his deep voice mixing beautifully with his laughter as it echoes against his chest.

“Sorry,” you fumble, pulling away quickly and wondering if mortals were allowed to be hugging Roman Gods.

“Have you been alright?” he asks, ruffling your hair fondly with a smile.

You hum in agreement, relishing the way his fingers felt tugging against your locks, “Might need to take a break from pad thai for a while though.”

Chuckling, he extinguishes the fire with a wave of his hand before tugging you out of the cave. The sudden sunlight causes you cover your eyes, gripping his sleeve instead to guide you as you walk. Instead, he carries you in his arms once again before flying off to god-knows-where. At this point, you simply submit in his hold, as you trust him enough as the only person who knew better than you did at the moment.

You’re pleasantly surprised to find that he has brought you to your apartment, and even more pleased to find that your window has been returned to its original state. In fact, everything inside remains perfectly undisturbed.

“How’d we get in if the window is fixed?” you ask, pressing your fingertips against the glass to ensure that it was indeed repaired.

“I stopped by before the chimera appeared without having to bust your windows open, if you remember,” he teases, pulling the curtains aside to let in some light.

“Fair enough.”

You immediately head inside to ensure that the wedding dress was still in your office. You let a relieved sigh escape your lips when you notice it resting happily on your mannequin in the corner, looking as perfect as before.

“Y/N, we need to talk about something,” Yoongi says, pulling out a chair and straddling it as he watches you work with the bag of sequins you prepared earlier for this project.

“What’s up?” you ask, already getting back to work by sewing each individual sparkle into the layers of fabric.

“The chimera from earlier, it was sent by someone.”

His words cause your hand to falter, but you remind yourself that you have to make up for lost time, so you continue working furiously.

“Who have I angered?” you ask, trying to keep the concern out of your tone.

Cupid sighs, and when he finally replies, you’re forced to drop the dress entirely.

“Venus? So, she found out about me?” you bite your lip to stop it from trembling under this revelation.

He grips your hands in his own now that yours are no longer busy with working. The emotions swirling in his gaze allows the weird feelings to return to your heart once again. When he makes a request of you, you can’t help but take notice of the way he’s practically begging.

“Y/N, please let me protect you. I can take you somewhere she’ll never find you. We can be together, and you’ll be safe for the rest of your life. I promise.”

Of course, the offer is tempting. You aren’t sure if it’s the confusing feelings you’re beginning to develop for him or if he’s working some sort of love magic on you, but you actually consider his proposition for a good second or two. But eventually, the dazzle of the pearl white dress on your workbench breaks you out of your reverie. Did you want to spend the rest of your life in hiding? Would you still be able to do what you loved? Would you still be able to see your family and friends?

“I can’t,” you reply, giving him a sad smile and a small squeeze with your hands. You can’t accept the hurt on his face, so you go back to work so you can focus on the shiny beads on the waistline of the dress instead.

“I can’t let you die.”

His voice sounds so broken, so lost, so defeated that you almost didn’t recognize its owner. Brushing aside the wetness suddenly flowing across your cheeks as a result of his words and your own fear, you try your best not to let your tears fall onto your customer’s order.

“Y/N please. Look at me?” Yoongi begs, and when you risk a look at him, the tear clinging to edge of his waterline finally rolls down his cheek.

When you realize you’re kissing him, the first thought that manages to form is that his lips are so soft. It’s like you pressed your mouth against a carefree cloud, or some bright pink cotton candy based on the gentle sweetness that slowly begins spreading throughout your body. His cheeks are damp, and you can’t help but whisper “please, don’t cry” against his lips. His laugh mixes with a sob, as he tightens his grip on your waist.

You pull back, and for a second you forget that the man before you is an all-powerful god. As he sits in front of you, brushing your tears away with the pads of his thumbs, he is simply a soft-hearted boy crying over imagining a tomorrow without you. You wonder momentarily if it were possible for him to fall in love, because you were already beginning to feel the rush of falling.

“Am I crazy for liking you?” he chuckles, staring up at the ceiling as if the answer were written there, “I make others fall in love for the shits and giggles, and now I’m the butt of the joke.”

“How did I attract a god?” you muse, pinching his cheeks for your own personal enjoyment.

Yoongi falls back into his thoughts again, and you once again wait patiently for him to form his words. You were willing to wait, because you knew that when he finally spoke, it meant that he had truly considered each and every word he uttered.

“You’re witty. You love to crack jokes, especially when the situation turns awkward. It’s endearing, so much so that I just want to kiss the satisfied grin off your mouth. You’re hardworking and talented, placing the needs of others before your own. You commit yourself to your job, creating art as if it’s second nature. Even after your life gets hit with a whole shitstorm, you work on a wedding dress someone else ordered and tell me not to cry.”

A laugh escapes you as a desperate attempt to cover the fact that you’re certain you are as red as a cherry tomato and that you have the sudden urge to kiss Yoongi again.

The two of you decide to enjoy the simple happiness you feel with your newfound feelings for as long as you can without discussing Venus again. Once again, you find yourself working on the silky fabric of a bride-to-be’s wedding dress in your armchair in the living room. Except this time, Cupid has his arms wrapped around you as you sit in his lap. The two of you watch the sunset together after you decide to take a break, and he massages your wrists for you.

“I don’t want to hide, Yoongi.”

He makes a small noise acknowledging your words, seemingly more invested in nuzzling the exposed skin at the crook of your neck. You pinch his thigh to get his attention before continuing, “I can’t live like that. I’d rather die doing what I loved and enjoying every moment than being locked away somewhere—even if I were with you. Does that make sense?”

“Of course, my stubborn Y/N. I’ll do my best to keep you safe from her nevertheless.”

Raising an eyebrow, you shift in your seat so you can finally look at your brown-haired boy with surprise. You almost regret this decision, because the amount of adoration pouring from the personification of affection himself is almost too much for your mortal self to handle.

“I’m your Y/N now?”

He chuckles, smoothing out your furrowed brow with the tips of his fingers, each stroke leaving a lingering trail of warmth against your skin.

“Are you forgetting the vow I just gave you? A god just promised to protect you, mortal. Have some decorum.”

You frown, feeling too foolishly emboldened to be stopped now.

“Yeah well the witty, hardworking, and talented mortal just asked you a question,” you say smartly, playing with the strands of hair at the edge of his ear.

The golden stars in Yoongi’s eyes seem to shine brighter than before as he says, “For as long as you’ll have me. I’ll love you.”

♡ 

[milstrim]

Comfort in My Shadow

Chapter 4: Uninvited

By @iwritedumbshit for @iron-mum

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Ned Leeds, James “Rhodey” Rhodes

Summary: Soulmates are definite in the universe. Nobody knows exactly why they exist, or what dictates who is bonded to who, the only thing known is that they are never wrong. But Peter’s not so sure about that.

Living at the group home had taught Peter a lot about laying low and how to stay alive when nobody cares. But he’d always clung to the hope of the shadow at his feet reflecting his soulmate that had watched over him for years.

Typical that his soulmate is actually a superhero that Peter is convinced shouldn’t want anything to do with him. Maybe, just this once, the Universe was wrong.

But Tony Stark is desperate to prove that it is right.

Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8

---

Peter didn't really wake up the next morning, because he hadn't really fallen asleep last night. He'd been incredibly tired, but his hair hadn't been able to lay flat and he hadn't been able to block out the overwhelmingly disgusting smell of Mr. Fowler's closet. He'd been it the entirety of the day and even throughout the night when Mr. Fowler stomped into the room and passed out on the bed. The lilting stumbles in his steps made Peter think he'd been drunk and had likely forgotten about the kid trapped in his closet.

So he hadn't really slept, but his eyes had been closed--the darkness of his eyes was better than that of the closet--until the door had finally swung open, allowing Peter his first full breath in almost a whole day. The dankness of Mr. Fowler's room was a thousand times better than the closet. An arm had grabbed his own, pulling him roughly to his feet and out of the closet. His legs had ached with the disuse, but he'd stumbled to his feet nonetheless.

"Are you going to talk back to me again, son?" Mr. Fowler had asked, a horrible pleasantness to his voice. Peter had shaken his head. Something had been shoved into his hands, and he'd fumbled only to realize it was his wallet. "There. The card doesn't work anymore, so you can have that piece of shit back. Now get out of here."

"O-okay. Thank you," he'd said, stumbling out of the room and into the bathroom that he'd been deprived of for almost twenty-four hours. Once he'd finished and washed his hands, he'd searched through his wallet.

His few crumpled bills had been taken, but the pictures stuffed inside had been left alone, and the black card had sat crammed in a pocket. He'd grabbed it with fumbling fingers, brows furrowing. It didn't work anymore? Had the man maxed it out? Peter had swallowed, a pit forming in his stomach as he thought about what the hell he'd bought to do that. Probably a lot of alcohol had been his guess.

He really, really hoped that Mr. Stark couldn't see his purchases.

After a quick shower, in which he'd had to sit down his vision had swam so much, he'd rushed out the door with his beaten up backpack swinging off of his shoulder. He knew he probably should have stayed to check on the other kids who'd had to listen to the fight last night and might need help with homework, but the teenager couldn't stand to be in that house for any longer. Everything smelled like Mr. Fowler's awful closet and he just needed to be out in the bright Sunday sun. He wanted to find just a little comfort in his shadow that he'd been deprived of the night before.

So he'd changed into his suit and swung around for most of the day, flipping for some overly excited middle schoolers and directing an old man from Ukraine visiting his son who lived in Harlem and ignoring the pain in his stomach. When there was a lull in the late afternoon, he strung a web between two buildings and just did as many daring flips and handstands as he could. It was a feeble attempt to distract himself from the events of the past few days.

Hits and threats from Mr. Fowler were nothing new, in fact, they were a staple in the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys, but last night had been different. He'd never been trapped like that in the group home. He'd always had a lot of free reign as long as he operated within the curfew and got his chores done, but yesterday was like someone had flipped a switch on that, and he was still reeling from the terror.

Or that could be the hunger eating through his stomach. Peter stopped flipping on the web for a moment, instead laying down and balancing himself on the thin string as his stomach growled so hard he flinched. He wouldn't even be getting anything today. When did his grounding end again? He was pretty sure it was Thursday, but he wouldn't be surprised if Mr. Fowler extended it after last night. Maybe he could stop by Ned's and get a granola bar or something.

The teenager looked down at the ground to stare at Mr. Stark's shadow, blinking as he realized it was no longer clothed in normal attire, or a sharp business suit, but rather the larger outline of what he could now identify as the Iron Man armor. He narrowed his eyes, wondering what the man must be doing. Probably something really important.

Peter sighed, moving to sit up, when a sound made him pause. He cocked his head before finally turning in the direction of the mechanical whine to make out the Iron Man suit flying towards him.

Huh.

He tried to feign disinterest, laying back down on the web and placing his hands underneath his head as the suit landed on the nearest building rooftop and Mr. Stark stepped out, but Peter couldn't lie to himself about how excited he really was to see the man.

"Hey, Mr. Stark," he greeted from the web.

"Hey, kid."

"Um, thanks for the letter." Please don't ask about the card. Please don't ask about the card. "Are you sure about the phone, though? I mean, that thing looks like it could cost as much as a house."

"Keep it, kid, I gave it to you for a reason," Mr. Stark said, waving him off. Peter watched him warily as he sat down on the edge of the building, shuffling nervously. Peter smiled to see the man very clearly out of his element, as if he would let him fall anyway. "So, how's your day been?"

Peter shrugged. "Fine."

"No hangovers or anything?" Peter froze. "Can you even get drunk? Cap can't."

The teenager hesitated before answering. It was either 'I bought a bunch of adult stuff with your credit card' or 'My foster father bought a bunch of adult stuff with your credit card.' He wasn't sure which one was better, but there didn't seem to be much to win from lying, not that there was much to gain from telling the truth either.

"I don't know," Peter responded honestly as he sat up on the web to stare at the shadow on the ground. The imitation felt more comforting than the real thing at that moment.

"You don't know? You bought three hundred dollars of pure liquor."

"Three hundred--Oh, jeez. I'm really sorry, Mr. Stark."

Mr. Stark blinked at him for a second before his gaze softened.

"You didn't buy any of that stuff, did you?" Peter shook his head. "Who? Andrew Fowler?" A moment. A nod. "Okay, I'll just deactivate that card and give you a new one."

"No, it's fine, Mr. Stark," Peter said, pulling his wallet out of his hoodie pocket and showing him the black card. "He gave it back. I think he was annoyed that it was, like, maxed out or something."

"Well, it is most definitely not maxed out--there's a lot more than three hundred on that, kid--but I'm glad you got it back."

"Thanks."

There was a minute of awkward silence before Mr. Stark rolled his shoulders and sat up straighter.

"So, no tower yesterday?"

Peter suddenly remembered the little note at the end of his letter. He shrugged bashfully, mumbling, "Yeah, sorry, uh Mr--Mr. Fowler kept us pretty busy yesterday. Chore day, so."

"Wanna stop by now?"

Peter looked up at him in surprise. It was a wonder this man didn't hate him yet. The foster parents Peter had before Mr. Fowler had gotten sick of him pretty quickly, or just hadn't been very attached in the first place, while the majority of his teachers regarded him with either pity or disdain at his situation and record. As far as Mr. Stark knew, he had an accident-prone, snotty teenager as a soulmate whose favorite pass time was to be a juvenile delinquent.

And yet, the mechanic regarded him with a soft smile. A little strained, but welcoming nonetheless. It unfurled something in his chest.

"Really?"

"Really."

"Yeah!--I mean, sure sure, that'd be fun." Mr. Stark gave him an amused smile as the teenager stepped off of his web and onto the roof of the building. With a quick glance and a rare smile, Peter leaped off the roof, enjoying the way Mr. Stark yelped in surprise. Peter called, "Beat you there!!"

He did not, in fact, beat Mr. Stark to the tower. To be fair, the man was in a suit that flew faster than a jet and Peter was only propelled by physics and muscles.

The teenager watched from a short distance as the Iron Man suit paused in front of a higher point in the tower, faced him for a moment, and then dove through the window. He raised an eyebrow, but doubled down in catching up to the man, only barely managing to swing himself high enough so that he wouldn't have to crawl his way up more than a couple of stories.

Finally, just a few minutes later than Mr. Stark, he rolled through the window and landed hard on the floor just a little unsteadily, not that he cared in the slightest. There were much more interesting things to care about in that moment.

"Whoa..."

"You like it?" Mr. Stark called from across the lab. Peter nodded dumbly, staring, widemouthed, at the state of the art equipment decorating just about every inch of the room. There were cases of Iron Man armor lining the walls, robots rolling around--he managed a laugh at one with a dunce cap sweeping the ground with a broom inefficiently--and tables filled with projects Peter couldn't even begin to dream of. "You can take your mask off here, kid. No one's going to see you."

Mr. Stark's voice pulled him back to reality, drawing him further into the room hesitantly. He glanced at the man, but realized dimly that his spider sense had finally calmed down. This wasn't the danger he'd felt after being fished out of the lake, or the feeling that had been following him since, it was a normal calm mixed with just a hint of nerves.

He tugged his mask off.

Mr. Stark stared at him, a soft look on his face, before finally tearing his gaze away when Peter shuffled uncomfortably.

"Sorry, kid," he apologized. "Didn't mean to freak you out. Just..."

"Just what?"

"It's just nice to see you, Peter."

He didn't know what to say to that, so he just offered the billionaire a strained smile and stepped over to the desk the man was standing at. He felt more than a little out of place, but his curiosity overwhelmed his discomfort as he glanced over a shiny metal case held lightly in the billionaire's hands in interest. Mr. Stark tapped it when he caught the boy looking.

"This, kid," he said, sliding it over, "is for you."

Peter caught it effortlessly, his fingers light and hesitant as he glanced from it to Mr. Stark, his head down.

"I can't accept this, Mr. Stark. You already--"

Mr. Stark interrupted by reaching over and pressing something on the case. It sprang open, spooking Peter enough for him to take a step back but holding his attention as he caught sight of the bright red fabric. The eyes were what really caught his attention, looking unreasonably cool and intimidating. Peter mumbled, "This is the coolest thing I've ever seen."

Mr. Stark chuckled. "Good thing it's yours."

"It's--" He gaped at the man. "Mr. Stark, I really can't accept--"

"Too bad," he interrupted. "It's a gift and it's rude to turn down a gift. So, there's a bathroom right over there if you want to try it on. Give it a whirl?"

After a moment of hesitation, he closed the case, thanked Mr. Stark, and headed to the bathroom to change.

  ---

When Peter stepped out of the bathroom in the new suit, Tony couldn't help but frown. He covered it up as quickly as possible, but the sentiment still remained as his eyes roamed over the kid. He was muscular, sure, but he was so thin that it practically hurt. The teenager's ribs were practically there just for him to count and worry about. He filed it away for later as Peter turned to look at him, the mask's eyes narrowing.

"Looking good, hotshot," Tony said. "How's it feel?"

"It's awesome, Mr. Stark," Peter responded, his hands held out in front of him as he tapped the webshooters. "It smells like a new car!"

Tony couldn't help his laugh. "If you think that's cool, just wait. Friday, Babysitter Protocol."

"Babysitter--" Peter cut off with a confused yelp as his suit lit up blue, the AI in his suit supposedly greeting him. The kid cocked his head. "Oh, hi. Nice to meet you too."

Tony turned away, letting the kid and the AI get acquainted as he pulled out his phone and ordered a few pizzas. Five might be enough. Steve had always eaten a lot, and even if he didn't manage to burn through the best pizza in the city, the kid could definitely use leftovers. He entered the order and shifted back to observe the kid again.

"--uh, Liz? No, no, that's weird. How about Karen?" A moment as he waited for a response. "Fun. Nice. Cool, this is so cool."

Tony smiled, unable to tear his eyes away from the kid. His soulmate. His little shadow. 

Peter turned to look at him after a few minutes, muttering a quick goodbye to the AI--Karen, he guessed--before tugging the mask off again. There was a hesitant smile tugging at his thin face. Much too thin. How many pizzas would it take to get the kid back to even a semi-healthy weight? Probably way too many.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Stark," Peter said. "I really can't thank you enough."

"Please, you can thank me by not thanking me. Pepper says my ego's already a little off of the charts." Peter laughed and Tony couldn't help his grin. "Wanna stay over for dinner? I ordered pizza."

Peter hesitated, but after a moment he answered, "Alright," which was so much better than the kid regarding him defensively or looking like he was constantly on the edge of running away again. And, as it turned out, Peter fit more easily into his life than he could have thought.

In barely thirty minutes, the kid was sat beside him at a desk filled with vials of web fluid and pieces of Iron Man armor, an old, frayed hoodie of Tony's slipped over the suit, and a stack of freshly baked pizza laid out in front of them. Peter sat in the chair next to him as the mechanic ran through the schematics of his suit, hanging on every single word.

"...most of the framing is between the protective layers of your suit, completely waterproof by the way, if you ever get yourself into another lake. You also have a parachute if you pass the three thousand feet threshold."

Peter glanced over his shoulder in surprise. "There's a parachute in this thing? How?"

Tony tapped his back where he knew the spider logo was. "A magician never reveals their secrets."

"Did you compress all the air out of it? Or build it into the wiring on the patch on my back somehow?"

"Both are true." He took a bite of pizza. "You're pretty smart, huh?"

Peter ducked his head with a shrug. "Sorta. I can figure out chemistry, but that's about it."

"I don't believe that for a second, but we'll stick with the modesty for now." Peter huffed out a laugh, spinning the hologram of his suit and staring at it in complete adoration. It dragged a smile onto Tony's face.

Peter had a sort of ruggedness to him, a desperate scrappiness, but it was embarrassingly easy to see that that wasn't all there was to the teenager. His rambles were fast and excited, his scarce smiles adorably bright and always lighting up his doe eyes. There was a kind of spark to Peter that Tony couldn't explain, and, though he was sorry that the kid was saddled with him, he couldn't have wished for a better soulmate.

Apparently, five pizzas ended up being a great number, because Peter ate everything Tony offered him. He was practically a human garbage disposal, though much more polite. Tony was glad that the kid was filling up, but it made him seriously question how much he was getting at that group home. After letting the kid get comfortable for about an hour, he voiced it.

"Do they feed you where you live, kid? I swear, you just put down over ten thousand calories."

Peter paused on the slice he was eating, swallowing before putting it back on the plate nervously, and Tony immediately regretted ever opening his big, fat mouth.

"Yeah. They--Mr. Fowler feeds us fine. Just, enhanced metabolism, so." He shrugged. It was said so nervously that it felt like an outright lie, but Tony left it alone.

"Okay. Good to know. Just make sure to use that card whenever you get hungry, kid. I'm not having my soulmate starve."

At his mention of being soulmates, Peter glanced over his shoulder to stare at their shadows. Right now they almost looked like their own shadows, mirror images of each other, but if you looked hard enough you could see the slight difference in hair texture and the distinctive widths of their shoulders.

"It must've been weird," Peter said. Tony glanced at him in confusion. "Not having a shadow. You didn't get one until I was born, right?"

"Oh. Yeah," Tony agreed. He swallowed as he admitted, "Thought I was broken for the longest time. It was the best day of my life when your tiny little baby shadow appeared at my feet... What about you? Always had a grown man following you around, huh?"

"That sounded creepy, Mr. Stark." Tony just grinned cheekily. "It was nice, actually, always having you there. Like--like a guardian or something."

"And now you've got the real thing." Peter rolled his eyes and Tony pointed at him. "Ah, there's that good ol' sass I was looking for. I was afraid I'd lost it."

"Uhuh. You're kinda weird, Mr. Stark."

"Right back at you, little shadow." Peter smiled at the nickname before glancing out the window where the sky was a deep russet red. "Time for you to head out?"

"Yeah. I've still got some homework to do."

The two stood up and walked over to the window. Peter moved to take the hoodie he'd been wearing off, but Tony stopped him. "Keep it. I've got plenty."

"Oh, thanks, Mr. Stark."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm so generous. Have fun with the suit, kid, I'll see you soon."

"When?"

Tony paused, looking over at the kid who had only just begun to pull the mask over his head, hopeful eyes staring at him. He desperately wanted to tell the kid he'd pick him up from school tomorrow so that they could hang out in the lab again, but he knew he genuinely didn't have any time. He'd been putting off packing for a few too many days.

"After we move. I'll pick you up from school on Friday. We can go explore the compound together. Sound good?"

Peter nodded. "Yep. Real good, Mr. Stark."

"You can call me Tony, Mr. Parker," he joked.

Peter pulled the mask down and jumped out the window with a call of. "See you Friday, Mr. Stark!"

Tony's shoulders shook with laughter.

  ---

Friday. Peter couldn't wait for Friday. With a burst of excitement and energy he hadn't had in a while, Peter flipped in the air and let out a WHOOO! only catching himself at the last second before flipping back up.

"Wow, this suit is so intuitive!" he exclaimed, shooting another web.

"I am glad you think so, Peter," Karen responded, shocking him so bad he nearly let go of his web. Oh, yeah, he'd forgotten he had an AI now. Man, Mr. Stark was so cool. "I am currently taking feedback for the suit's systems in case anything needs to be changed on Friday. Would you like to rate the suit's webshooters?"

"Oh, full eleven out of ten, Karen. It's great."

"Thank you for the feedback, Peter, I have sent a note to Mr. Stark."

"Oh." Peter blushed. "You didn't have to tell him that, Karen."

"Why not? He has asked for feedback."

"No, it's not--" He cut himself off, sighing as he flipped himself into a large arc. "I just don't want to bother him. He's already been so nice to me."

"Mr. Stark has asked for feedback, Peter."

"It's not the--it's not the feedback, Karen," he tried to explain.

"I do not understand."

He spluttered and then sighed, waving it off. "Whatever. It's fine, Karen, just forget it."

"Of course, Peter. Would you like me to show you the quickest route home?"

Peter hesitated. He did have a lot of homework to do, and Eric probably needed help with his reading, but he had to swallow down fear at the thought of being in the same room as Mr. Fowler again. It was irrational--it was so stupid--and Peter knew it, but he couldn't stop the way his hands seemed to shake and his entire body quail.

"Actually, let's take the scenic route. Really test out the suit, y'know?"

"Of course, Peter. Planning now."

A blue line appeared on screen, leading Peter back to the group home. He muttered, "So cool."

Spider-Man was only halfway back to the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys, finally across the bridge and back into his home territory, when his spider sense went off again. He immediately glanced down at his shadow, which had lengthened as the sun set, for some kind of comfort or guidance. But of course, there wasn't one. It was just a shadow.

A little put off by the shiver that had run down his spine, he attached himself to the side of the building, staring out over the street. Nothing too out of the normal. People hurrying on the sidewalk, cars honking down the street, and shadows following along aimlessly.

"Karen. What's going on?"

"What do you mean, Peter?" the AI asked.

"It's just--there's something wrong. Maybe--" At a second shiver up his spine, Peter turned to look at where his senses were directing him at the ringing of a bell.

It was a small bodega, its door swung open as two men stepped inside in unreasonably thick coats for the warm weather. He narrowed his eyes, and the suit zoomed in with him, scanning the men before they disappeared through the door.

"What's the time, Karen?"

"7:30."

"Alright, we're good then. Plenty of time." He swung over to the bodega, attaching himself to the wall above the door, out of sight of the occupants inside. His senses had yet to calm down, so he assumed that he was right about this being a robbery. "Ready to test out the suit, Karry Berry?"

"I am always ready, Peter."

"Y'know, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship."

"Does that mean I should assign you a nickname too?"

"Definitely! Think about it for a moment and get back to me after we do this," Peter exclaimed in an excited mumble, straining his ears to hear whatever was going on inside. There was the tense calm of nothing for a moment, and then a shuffle and a squeak followed by a spike in his senses. He muttered to himself. "Finally."

He kept his ears strained on the actions going on inside, dropping down in front of the door quietly to watch what was happening. There was a teenager at the register, her hands fumbling with the register while the two men from earlier in their dark coats pointed shotguns at her. He could see tears streaming down the girl's face, clearly terrified.

Peter crept forward, picking up on the muttered conversation inside.

"--just open the register, keep it quiet," the closest man said in a raspy voice. "Hand everything over nice and quick."

"It's--it doesn't open," the girl cried. "It doesn't open unless a purchase is made and--"

The man flinched forward. "Do I look like I care? Just open it!"

Finally having heard enough, Peter placed his fingers against the door and pulled it open as quietly as possible.

Ding!

Peter froze. Heads turned. Curses flew.

The superhero darted forward as the gun pointed at him, firing a shot that missed him completely as he dove behind a grocery aisle of gummies and pregnancy tests. Bodegas really were something. Peter crouched down, muttering under his breath, "Fuck that stupid bell."

"Would you like me to alert Mr. Stark to your predicament?" Karen asked.

"What? No! I can deal with this, Karen, just watch."

"I like the new look," came the voice of the man that had shot at him. "New government sugar daddy or something?"

Peter blanched. "I really wish that that would stop being people's first assumption. People can be platonic y'know!"

There was a scoff and the sound of something warping. Peter's eyes narrowed, peeking around the grocery shelf and then immediately ducking back. The man, the one who hadn't shot at him, had pulled out a large and glowing weapon that looked incredibly similar to the one that had been at the ATM robbery. Man, he was getting really sick of those things.

The teenage girl had looked okay, shivering behind the desk and thankfully not making any moves to alert the police, as far as he could tell anyway. The last thing he needed was cops showing up in such a tense situation. And his first time using the new suit! That would be just plain embarrassing.

"Platonic or not, I don't give a shit," Normal Gun Man said. "A new look isn't going to change your situation. So either come out, or we shoot you."

"I don't know if you can shoot me while I'm back here soooo."

There was a click and a squeak. "Yeah? What about her?"

Okay. So that was a little different.

Without hesitation, Peter stepped out from behind the aisle shelf, his arms raised half-heartedly in the air. The two men had ski masks over their face--not quite as fun as the Avengers masks, but it'd do--but he could still see the honestly nervous smile of the man holding the gun. Clearly he hadn't expected the arrival of Queens favorite vigilante.

"Good to know that you can comply," Normal Gun Guy said. Alien Gun Guy had the weird blue gun pointed at Peter, but the shotgun was still directed at the worker. He chose his target.

"Not really."

With a flick, he webbed the shotgun and slammed it into the wall. There was a startled scream at the same moment his hairs stood on end. Peter only managed to jump forward before he was encased in a blue light that gave him quite possibly the worst headache of his entire life. He hated the feeling of that stupid thing. He didn't quite know what it was, but it felt like something out of The Incredibles. Like Syndrome and shit.

"Ugh! This thing is so weird!" Peter complained in a warped yell. Alien Gun Guy gave him a brutish look and then swung him through the window.

Peter grunted as he crashed through the window, wincing at the clinking shatter of glass that broke under him, but, surprisingly, none of the glass managed to grab at him and slice through his skin, even as he was shot across the street from the force of the alien weapon, only stopping when he thudded against the wall. He groaned as the air was forced out of him.

At least the suit had kept him from getting cut.

"Ugh... The hell." The teenager shook his head, forcing himself back to his feet, clinging to the wall for just a moment as he blinked out dizziness. Remembering himself, he turned back to the bodega across the street, panicking when his head pounded. That wasn't from being hit, that was his spider sense.

The men ran out of the door, hulking along a cash register and a handful of cigarette packs, but the teenage girl had yet to leave and his head only pounded harder. Spider-Man dashed across the road, leaping through the already broken window, his breath catching as he caught sight of the purple thing sitting on the ground in the middle of the bodega. It whined, louder and louder.

Bomb. Bomb!

Peter's head shot around so fast he physically winced, but he caught sight of the teenager behind the counter. Working on instinct, he jumped over the counter as the whine reached its apex, wrapping his arms around the girl and pushing himself between her and the bomb. He squeezed his eyes shut as tightly as possible, gritting his teeth.

The world shook and she let out a surprised cry into his shoulder but didn't let go. Peter barely managed to hold down a whimper of fear. Be brave, be a hero. Be brave, be a hero. He could do it. He was fine.

He was fine.

Peter blinked his eyes open, moving carefully to peer over the counter.

"Dammit," he muttered. The rest of the windows had shattered, and just about every product in the store had been knocked back and now littered the ground. A tile fell from the ceiling, making him tense his shoulders. They'd gotten away. Some hero he was.

"I have a nickname for you, Peter," Karen said in his ear. He frowned in annoyance. Well, he had told her to tell him once the situation was over.

"Great," he snapped, stepping over the counter, his boot crunching on the glass. "What is it?"

"Peter-butter!"

"...Okay that's actually pretty good."

  ---

After double checking that the cashier was alright, Peter had fled the scene, cursing himself for how bad it had gone. Nobody had died, but that wasn't really the standard he was looking for. If anything, he'd really just made everything worse. Stupid, Parker, stupid!

The teenager sighed, dipping into the dark alleyway where his backpack had been left earlier. He grabbed it from under the crate of boxes where he'd hidden it, pressing the spider emblem on his chest, allowing the suit to cascade off of him. Frustrated, Peter ripped the mask off and untangled himself from the fabric at his feet, stuffing the items in his faded blue bag and jumping back into his own clothes, and, after a moment of hesitation, slipped into the hoodie that Mr. Stark had given him.

He pulled the bag over his shoulder and buried his hands into his pockets as he stepped out of the alleyway and back onto the streets in the direction of the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys. His brows were furrowed and his face squished into a deep frown. He couldn't believe he'd been given a superhero suit by literally Iron Man and he'd screwed it up immediately. He chittered nervously at the thought of Mr. Stark seeing what had happened at the bodega and realizing just how shit of a superhero his soulmate was.

As he was debating the likely-hood of Mr. Stark taking the suit back and never talking to him again for his screw up, his phone buzzed. Hesitantly, Peter pulled it out to find two texts waiting for him. One from Ned and one from Mr. Stark.

He clicked on the one from Ned first. The text app opened up to show Peter a grainy picture of him in his new suit followed by Ned's message of 'Excuse me??? tf is this?? tell me everything rn or im going to die'

Peter smiled faintly, making a mental note to call his friend in a few minutes. With a deep breath, he clicked on Mr. Stark's message.

Mr. Stark: I saw the news. You okay?

Peter blinked. He wasn't mad? He chewed on his lip as he sent a response, 'All good. Sorry I freaked you out.' 

Mr. Stark texted back almost immediately, 'No problem. Just glad you're good. Text ya later, kiddo.'

And that was that, Peter supposed. No...no nothing, really. He'd expected a lot more resistance or opposition from the billionaire, but he wasn't mad that he hadn't gotten any. He was about to call Ned when his phone buzzed again.

Mr. Stark: 'P.S. You can talk to and text Karen through your phone. Knock yourself out, Peter-butter.'

Well, that was embarrassing. But still kinda cool.

With a shake of his head, he finally dialed Ned's number. His friend only picked up after two rings with a breathless greeting.

"Yo, what the hell is up with that suit? Did Mr. Stark make it for you? Are you super hero buddies now!!? Officially his sidekick!!?"

Peter smiled, shaking his head in amusement as he stopped at a streetlight. "Yeah, Mr. Stark made it for me. It's cool right? It even has an AI!"

"It has an AI!!? Please, please, tell me you'll let me look at it."

"Duh. Yeah, you can look at it. We can go to your house after school." Peter thought for a moment, thinking of the alien weapons. He'd messed up today, probably disappointed Mr. Stark, but if he could take the whole operation down... "Besides, I need your help with something."

Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8