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theladyofdeath · 2 years ago

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The Holiday {7}

WARNING: NSFW. 18+ only.

Ships: Nesta x Cassian / Aelin x Rowan

Written alongside @snelbz

Trope(s): Christmas, fluff, love at first sight, enemies to lovers, New Year's

Summary: Nesta has just been dumped. Aelin hates her job. Both women need an escape from reality and with Christmas quickly approaching, it's the perfect time for a getaway. After discovering a trend where people can swap houses for a non-traditional vacation experience, these two women decide to spend the holidays in each other's homes. With their houses comes a series of unique experiences and a couple of handsome suitors. It's time to see just how much a change of scenery and two weeks of Christmas solitude and romance can change a person.

A/N: This chapter is for 18+ readers only. We hope you all had a great Christmas! Enjoy these last few chapters! x

Rating: M for mature - language, smut, substance use, etc. 18+.

Inspired by The Holiday (2006).

Aelin was completely unashamed to admit that she was looking out the front window of the cottage every five minutes to see if Rowan was coming early. He said he’d be there at six with a bag full of groceries to make her dinner, and it was already a quarter to.

After last night, there were no nerves, only excitement.

She had ultimately decided on something far more comfortable than the night before. Instead of a sleek dress that showed off her figure beautifully, she wore leggings, a baggy sweater, and her favorite boot socks. She had no doubt that Rowan was not the kind of man to mind comfort on a date.

Especially a home date.

Despite her cozy attire, she made sure her makeup was pristine and her messy bun was just messy enough. She was in the bathroom, adjusting her hair, when she finally heard a knock from the front door.

Launching herself into the hallway, she hurried to the door before skidding to a stop in front of it. Aelin took a deep breath to calm her racing heart and opened it.

The blast of cold air made her grateful for that deep breath and she closed the door as soon as Rowan was over the threshold. She turned to him and smiled as he tugged his black beanie off. His hair was messier than hers, but not nearly as intentional.

Chuckling, she reached up and smoothed out his hair. “Hi.”

He let her with no hesitation. “Hi.”

Noting the bags in his hands, she took them away from him and carried them to the kitchen once she deemed his hair smooth enough.

“I’m not saying I’m a chef by any means,” Rowan began, kicking off his boots and taking off his coat, “but I’m about to make you a kickass meal.”

With a grin, Aelin tried peeking in one of the bags but Rowan was instantly beside her, swatting her hand away.

“Surprise meal,” he clarified. He did, however, pull out a bottle of wine and a pint of whiskey. “To keep us satisfied until then.”

“Charming,” she murmured, getting two glasses out of one of the cupboards. “Keeping me occupied with alcohol.”

Rowan chuckled as he searched around Nesta’s kitchen for everything he needed. “Don’t worry, you won’t be drinking alone.”

Aelin poured him a glass of whiskey before blessing herself with a massive glass of wine that she had absolutely no shame in.

Sitting on a barstool, Aelin drank her wine, listening with rapt attention as Rowan recounted Sutton’s tales from ice skating earlier in the day. Even though she was staying the night with her grandmother again, he’d picked her up that morning, ran a few errands and ended up at the rink in the middle of the small town square.

“She swears it was an accident and she bumped into me, but what seven year-old girl bumps with enough force to knock a grown man on his ass?” Rowan asked, chuckling, shaking his head as he chopped veggies and transferred them onto a large baking dish. Aelin had laughed, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. His smile was easy as he began seasoning two large steaks, eyes dancing between her and the food he was preparing. “I’m okay though, in case you were worried.”

“Why would you think I was worried?” Aelin crooned quietly before taking another sip from her glass.

She could see Rowan grin even though he was watching the knife at work in his hand. “I had a feeling.”

Aelin snorted but didn’t bother correcting him.

Forty minutes later, Aelin sat across from Rowan at the little kitchen table and breathed in the display before her. Rowan had made steak, cooked in homemade garlic butter, and a medley of fresh vegetables. He also brought cheese bread, which he made from scratch, and Aelin found that stupidly charming.

“So not only are you a lumberjack,” Aelin began, cutting up her steak, “but a hell of a cook, too?”

Rowan shrugged. “I just watched enough YouTube videos to know how to make my way through a kitchen.”

Aelin laughed at the thought of Rowan studying YouTube videos. It was adorable, to say the least. “Well, YouTube is a great teacher, because this is fantastic.”

She had to keep herself from moaning when she popped a bite of steak into her mouth.

Rowan watched her intently. His eyes trailed her movements, watching as her mouth opened and closed, watched as her eyelids fluttered shut from the pure bliss of deliciousness. When her eyes opened once more, she caught his gaze and smiled.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” she asked. “I’m not the neatest eater, I know.”

Rowan swallowed, shaking his head. “No, nothing on your face.”

Aelin’s cheeks warmed as she continued to cut up her steak. “Well, then by all means, continue to stare.”

Rowan chuckled, straightening as he focused on his own plate. “I’m glad we’re doing this, Aelin. Even though you’re leaving in a few days…I like spending time with you. I feel like our time together has gone by too quickly.”

Aelin felt that way too. The thought of leaving next week made her chest ache, but there was nothing she could do about it. Once she left, she would always remember the handsome lumberjack that made her chest ache and her knees go weak.

Rather than linger on it, on the disappointment the thought of leaving him dredged up, she steered the subject elsewhere. “Now what about dessert?”

There was a beat of silence. “Dessert?”

She nodded. “The delicious course eaten after dinner? Usually there’s cake or cookies or something sweet like that.”

Aelin leaned back in her chair, immensely enjoying watching Rowan start to panic. They’d discussed her love of all things dessert, most specifically chocolate cake, the night before and she wanted to see if he’d remembered.

From the look on his face, it hadn’t even crossed his mind. “I, uh, didn’t bring dessert.”

Smirking, Aelin tipped her wine glass back, emptying it, before she stood. “It’s a good thing I did then.”

Rowan’s eyes narrowed as he watched her cross the kitchen to the fridge, where she pulled out a box from the local bakery. “It’s not nice to try and make people sweat.”

“Nice isn’t necessarily how people often describe me,” Aelin said, chuckling as she set the box down on the counter. Her eyes lit up once she opened the box and saw the magnificent chocolate cake staring up at her. “Besides, anyone who forgets about dessert is begging to be teased.”

Aelin cut a slice for herself then one for Rowan, and his eyes remained on her as she brought both plates back to the table.

He blinked at the slice in front of him. “This is massive.”

Aelin snorted, digging in. “Please, I can eat this entire thing by myself. Just be happy I’m being generous.”

Rowan huffed a laugh before taking a bite himself. It was delicious, one of the best cakes Aelin could remember eating. Halfway through, Rowan asked, “What did you mean by people not thinking you’re nice? I know we just met, but I wouldn’t describe you as otherwise.”

Aelin took a minute to think about her answer. “I’m a young woman in a big, corporate law office… I guess I’ve had to create a tough exterior for myself.”

He took another bite, chewing slowly, before setting the fork down. “You don’t seem real thrilled about that.”

Shrugging, Aelin used her fork to mash up a few bites of her cake. She’d done her best not to think about Arrobyn or work or really home at all while she’d been in Orynth, save for a few texts back and forth with Lys or Elide, but now her impending return brought it to the forefront. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy what I do. Yeah, the hours are a bit long and my boss can be a real asshole, but I make great money. Can’t really complain about having to be more assertive than I’d prefer.”

Rowan studied her for a moment and she felt scrutinized by the intensity of his stare, but he nodded at last and took another bite of his cake. Most likely getting the hint that this is not something she wants to talk about, Rowan changed the subject. “Seriously, I don’t know how you eat this junk. It’s too sweet.”

Aelin pushed her anxious thoughts of work away and gaped at the man across from her. “I don’t trust a man that doesn’t like chocolate cake.”

Rowan took a piece of cake between his fingers and tossed it at Aelin, where it hit her square in the face. She picked it up and ate it, saying how no one should ever waste such goodness, and continued to eat both pieces of cake before taking everything to the counter to wash the dishes. Rowan volunteered to help, and even though Aelin protested because he cooked, she eventually gave in and let him be the one to dry after she washed.

After putting the last of the dishes back into the cabinet, Aelin leaned back against the counter. “I’ve got something for you.”

The dish towel he’d used to dry the dishes was in his hands and he paused where he’d been draping it over the edge of the sink. “You do?”

She nodded, words suddenly foreign to her.

“I— I don’t have anything for you,” he admitted, looking embarrassed.

Scoffing, Aelin left the kitchen and headed for the tree. “You just made me the most delicious steak I’ve ever eaten. That’s a gift in itself.” She picked up a package wrapped in paper decorated with little, green trees. Sitting down on the couch, she placed the present on the coffee table. “I thought the wrapping paper was fitting.”

Rowan chuckled as he sat next to her, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s not much,” Aelin continued, “so don’t think too much on it…but I saw it this morning when, you know, I was buying the world's best cake and thought of you.”

Rowan’s eyes lit up and she thought he may like her thinking about him. She sure as hell liked thinking about him.

Rowan picked up the gift and fiddled with the paper for a moment before Aelin said, “Gods, lumberjack, just rip into it.”

With a grin, Rowan did just that. A small white box was beneath the paper, which he opened politely and took out what was inside.

Aelin bit her lip as Rowan pulled out the mug and read what was on it.

An image of a burly lumberjack was on the front standing next to a tree with a face. The speech bubble above the lumberjack read, May I AXE you a question? And the speech bubble above the tree read, AXE away.

Rowan stared at for a second, suppressing a grin, before looking up at Aelin. “This is, by far, the nerdiest gift anyone has ever gotten me.”

Aelin finally let out her laughter as her face fell into her hands. She groaned. “I thought it was cute!”

Rowan fell back into the couch as his laughter matched hers. “It is. I love it. Thank you, Aelin.”

When Aelin pulled her face out of her hands and looked at Rowan, he was already watching her. His smile was soft and the look in his eyes stripped her bare.

“You’re welcome,” she said, her voice suddenly quieter.

The silence fell between them, but it wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable, listening to the wood pop and crack inside the hearth. Rowan was the one to break it. “Any Christmas Eve traditions you’re skipping this year?”

Shaking her head, Aelin tucked her legs beneath her on the couch. “I’ve always spent it with my cousin and his fiancée, but they just had their first baby. They’re making their own traditions now. You?”

“Sutton and I watch the Polar Express every year,” he replied, a wistful tone in his voice. “This is the first year in a long time I haven’t watched it.”

“Is she watching it at her grandma’s?” Aelin asked. He nodded and she bit her lip. “Would you… would you like to watch it with me?”

Rowan arched a brow. “Seriously?”

Aelin nodded. “I’m sure I could find it on some streaming service. I haven’t watched it in years. Why not?”

Rowan’s surprised expression softened and he smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Aelin searched all of her streaming services before renting it from Amazon Prime. She pulled it up on her laptop and they got comfortable on the couch together as the movie started.

Rowan’s arm was around her and she leaned into him with no hesitation. Her head rested on his shoulder as his fingertips drew soft, slow circles on her arm. Aelin’s hand rested on his knee.

They weren’t even halfway through the movie when Aelin couldn’t ignore the urge any longer and kissed him.

He laid her down on the couch, their kiss going from something soft to something demanding very quickly. It was nothing like their kiss the night before, although just as sweet. Aelin wrapped her arms around his neck as his tongue danced alongside hers. She didn’t know how long she spent kissing Rowan, but she knew that she had kissed him long until her lips were bruised and exhaustion overpowered her.

She fell asleep on the couch, wrapped in Rowan’s arms, perfectly happy and utterly satisfied.

<.>.<.>.<.>

Nesta had never been so bored. Typically, she was okay being an introvert, but there was something strange about being alone on Christmas Eve. It didn’t feel right.

She’d FaceTimed with her sisters during dinner and had sent her editors updated drafts, which went unanswered. It figured that as soon as she was ready, they were MIA.

Granted, it was a holiday, so she couldn’t exactly blame them.

At quarter to eight, she’d found a bottle of vodka under Aelin’s kitchen cabinet and with a gallon of orange juice, she settled onto the couch to keep watching true crime documentaries. As she was returning to her seat with a refill, she saw movement outside on the sidewalk and glanced out the window by the door.

Sure enough, Cassian was opening his own gate and hurrying towards his front door. He didn’t have his guitar with him but after watching him come home from the Illyrian night after night, she knew he often left it at the bar.

He was alone.

She wondered if he wanted to be alone.

Every time he saw her, he invited her over, told her his door was always open, and for the first time…she wanted to act on that offer.

After taking a sip from her tall glass, Nesta slipped on her boots and hurried across the street. She knocked on the door and waited.

Cassian yelled something from the other side of the door that she couldn’t decipher but appeared a minute later in sweatpants.

He was in the middle of pulling a t-shirt on and Nesta caught a long glimpse of perfectly toned, tan abs.

Gods, he was fit.

As soon as he realized who stood in front of him, shock contoured his features. That shock quickly turned into satisfaction and a grin crept across his mouth. “Nesta.”

Suddenly, Nesta felt ridiculous so she spewed out the first excuse that came into her head. “I need sugar.”

Cassian lifted a brow, that grin spreading. “Sugar?”

“I’m baking,” she lied.

Cassian's arms crossed across his chest. “Do I look like the type of guy that has sugar lying around?”

“Some people take it in their coffee,” she stated. “Even if they don’t bake, they have it around.”

Cassian shook his head. “Sorry. I take mine black. No sugar here. But, if you’d like to tell me why you really came across the street, maybe I could help you there.”

“I—” She hesitated for a second, wondering why she had come over here. She’d come to Velaris to get away from everyone, yet she couldn’t get the man in front of her out of her mind. He’d been at the forefront, no matter how hard she tried to ignore him. It had been his eyes or his husky voice or the maddening way he teased her at every opportunity. With a sigh, she added, “It felt pathetic to spend Christmas Eve on my own.”

Cassian hummed and looked over his shoulder. “I completely agree. You may as well come in.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed, ready to attack him for his sarcastic remark when she was being serious, but then she stopped herself. She imagined that this was Cassian being nice, that he rarely was serious, so she sighed. “Alright.” Cassian stepped out of the way to let her pass but Nesta hesitated. “Alcohol.”

Cassian huffed a laugh, cocking his head to the side. “Alcohol?”

“I just filled a drink,” she explained, “and I left my show paused. Why don’t you…come join me?”

Cassian swore, eyes bright. “An offer from Nesta. I should consider myself lucky.”

She rolled her eyes and began walking down his steps. “Don’t ruin it.”

Cassian slipped on his boots and grabbed a sweatshirt before shutting his door behind him, following Nesta across the street. She only looked over her shoulder once and swore she caught him staring at her ass.

He had no shame in it.

They were quiet as they entered the house but Cassian slipped off his shoes and made himself perfectly at home, as if he’d been there a thousand times before.

She supposed he had.

Plopping down on Aelin’s couch, Cassian propped up his giant, socked feet on the coffee table and snatched the remote off the cushion beside him. “True crime documentaries? On Christmas Eve? Mother’s tits, woman.”

“Pretty crude mouth you’ve got there,” Nesta muttered, pouring Cassian a drink before grabbing her own and walking into the living room.

“I have a feeling yours is just as filthy,” Cassian crooned as he thanked her for the drink. “You forget your sex toy arrived on my front porch.”

Nesta rolled her eyes and hated the fact that her cheeks heated as she sat opposite of Cassian on the couch.

“That I did not get for myself,” Nesta reminded him.

Cassian shrugged and took a sip from his glass. He barely got it down before he scrunched his nose. “The hell is this?”

Nesta snorted. “A screwdriver?”

Cassian shook his head, even as he took another gulp. “This is awful.”

“Then why are you drinking it?”

“Who the hell turns down free alcohol?”

“Touché.” After another large gulp, Nesta reached across the empty couch cushion and snatched the remote from Cassian. “Back to true crime. Can’t handle it?”

“I just don’t think it should be watched on Christmas.”

“You’re a hallmark man, aren’t you? You love a good romance.”

Cassian barked a laugh and took another drink with a distorted look on his face. This banter was so easy with him. “Everyone loves a good hallmark movie at Christmas time.”

Nesta shook her head. “Every Christmas movie is the same.”

“They are not,” he scoffed, stretching his arm across the back of the couch.

Nesta raised an eyebrow. “Which version do you prefer? Big city writer guy who just got out of a relationship falls for a single mom on the verge of losing her bakery? Or a successful business woman who’s too busy for love falls for a handsome country boy who teaches her the true meaning of Christmas?”

They stared at each other in silence for a second until Cassian’s lips quirked to the side. “Big city writer guy and country girl.”

Nesta just rolled her eyes and took a drink. “You would.”

“Got me all figured out, do you?” Cassian asked, giving another distasteful frown as he took a drink.

“You’re not that much of a mystery,” she muttered, tossing back her drink far faster than she should.

Cassian, even though he complained about the fruity drink, was working his way through his own fairly quickly. “I can’t say the same for you. You’re one hell of a mystery.”

“Am I?” Nesta asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. She had been told that one too many times throughout her life, mostly from men. “Maybe you’re just too dimwitted to figure me out.”

“Calling me dumb?”

“Absent-minded.”

Cassian only grinned and she hated how much she found him attractive when he grinned.

Handsome bastard.

“What if I want to unravel you?”

The question caught her off guard. Surely he wasn’t being that blunt, was he? Yes, he’d already mentioned the sex toy her sisters had ordered for her, but he had no idea that it sat unused in her suitcase. For someone who wrote romance novels, her sex life had been nonexistent, even on her own, since she’d left Tomas. She hadn’t been interested, had been more focused on finishing her latest book, but now, looking at Cassian lounging across the couch? She was suddenly very interested.

“I don’t know anything about you. I don’t know who you are or what you do for a living.”

But then she realized he didn’t mean he wanted to physically unravel anything. He wanted to get to know her.

And she felt foolish for thinking he meant anything else.

“I’m a writer,” she blurted, feeling the unsettling warmth of her face turning a horrid shade of red. “So.”

Cassian just stared at her with that dumbass smirk on his mouth. “Did I make you blush?”

Nesta finished her drink and stood without giving him an answer before going to refill her drink.

“If you’re playing bartender, I could use a refill too,” he said, holding up his drink.

“I thought you didn’t like it,” she said, her heart still beating quickly as she mixed her own drink.

“It grew on me,” he confessed, lazily. “The more I drank, the less I tasted.”

Nesta wanted to snap at him, tell him to get his own damn drink, but she supposed she had offered to host him for the night.

Slowly, she walked back to the couch and took his cup from his hand. When their fingertips brushed, her jaw locked.

Cassian’s grin grew.

She could feel his heavy gaze on her as she went to mix him a drink. Nesta never knew how much to weigh the alcohol when mixing drinks. Hopefully the guy knew how to hold his liquor as well as she did.

“A writer,” Cassian began as she came back to the couch. “What is it that you write?”

“Contemporary romance,” Nesta replied, handing him his drink before taking her seat again on the other side of the couch. She could have sworn he was sitting just a little closer than he had been before.

“Romance,” he mused, raising his drink to his lips. “So you love true love, huh?”

Nesta let out a particularly unladylike little snort. “Not particularly. Not sure I believe in it.”

Cassian’s brow furrowed. “You write love stories but you don’t believe in true love?”

“Never seen it myself,” Nesta said, matter-of-factly, taking a large sip from her straw. “Besides, people don’t really read my romance novels for love.”

“Then what do they read them for?” He asked, his tone genuinely curious.

Nesta realized what she said and froze.

For a moment, Cassian was silent but she knew he was piecing it all together as his eyes widened. “Oh. You write romance.”

“I—”

“You write smut,” he went on, giddily. “Nesta, the porn writer.”

“I’m not talking about this with you.”

“This explains the vibrating dildo that landed on my doorstep much better,” he said, and his satisfied grin was infuriating. “Doing research for your next masterpiece?”

Nesta grabbed a throw pillow and hurled it at him, but he caught it with one hand and held it against his chest. “Hey, no judgment. I’m fact, I’d love to read—”

“No.” The word was clipped before she drank from her cup that was already becoming quite light, yet again.

“Come on,” he said, a husky laugh lacing each word. “Let me read some of what you wrote.”

“If you want to read it, you’ll have to go to the bookstore and pay up just like everyone else,” Nesta said, and the gods damn her, she was almost smiling as she did.

“That’s not fair,” Cassian protested, swirling around what’s left in his cup. “After all we’ve been through these last few days, surely I get some sort of special holiday-acquaintance privilege.”

“Oh, please,” she laughed quietly, leaning forward to set her empty glass on the coffee table. “I’ll be gone in a few days and you’ll never think of me again. Your groupies at the bar will be thankful.”

His fingers skimmed her shoulder as she sat back. When she glanced over at him, she wasn’t expecting his gaze to be so intense. “You think that’s true?”

One of her shoulders rose and fell. “Why wouldn't it be? We bonded over sex toys, acoustic covers, and burgers, but I’ll go back to my life and you’ll keep on with yours.”

“Just because you aren’t staying doesn’t mean you're forgettable.”

It was a piece of dialogue she would write for one of her male love interests, a series of words so desirable to be heard that no man in the real world would ever say it out loud.

Until now.

Her head fell to the side as she studied him. At some point during their conversation, they’d drifted much closer to one another and now shared the same space.

“I think you’re full of shit.” There was no bite to her voice. In fact, the words fell out of her breathlessly as his eyes darted to her lips and back up again. “And maybe a little drunk.”

“I’m not drunk,” he said, quieter than before, as he shook his head. Fingertips came up and brushed away a stray strand of hair that had fallen across her forehead. His touch burned her skin in its wake. “Not any drunker than you.”

Nesta wasn’t drunk. Maybe a little tipsy, but still fully in control of herself and her emotions. At least that’s what she told herself as she slid a hand over his sweatpants, up his hard thigh.

Cassian shifted, an arm going behind her on the back of the couch.

It was escalating, quickly, but she couldn’t help the natural draw to him.

That, and the fact that she was horny as hell. It had been a while. The alcohol didn’t help.

Cassian's jaw ticked and Nesta glanced down at her hand, seeing it was mere inches away from the long, thick outline forming beneath the gray fabric.

In the silence, Cassian’s chest rose and fell with his deep breaths.

“Still not going to let me read any of your work?” Cassian asked, voice low and taunting.

Nesta shook her head as Cassian shifted on the couch yet again, moving closer to her. Silent acceptance in this game they had started playing that Nesta had quickly taken control of. “I’m not in the mood for reading.”

“What is it you’re in the mood for?” He asked, that hand that was behind her coming up to cradle her face.

She kissed him.

It was hard, and sloppy, but Cassian didn’t seem to give a damn as he took her by the hips and dragged her on top of him.

His hands slipped beneath her sweater and she gasped against his lips as they skimmed over the bare skin of her back. They were colder than the rest of him but she didn’t let it stop them, didn’t deter her from what she wanted.

And what she wanted lay beneath them, pressed between their bodies and Nesta groaned as she ground down along his hardened cock.

Cassian’s groan was deeper, not nearly as needy as hers, but the sound filled Nesta’s core with liquid heat. She broke the kiss, pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it to the side.

He studied her, eyes so dark they matched the night outside, and Nesta had never felt as sexy as she as he looked her over. She didn’t even care that she wore a boring, t-shirt bra, not sexy lingerie.

Cassian didn’t seem to care either.

His mouth trailed down the side of her neck and Nesta’s head fell to the side as he wandered. With his hands still on her waist, he sucked on the swell of her breast, just above her bra line. With parted lips, Nesta’s eyes fluttered shut.

It had been so long since she had been worshiped by a man.

Calloused fingertips trailed up her back and undid the clasp, letting her plain Jane bra fall to the carpet. A deep groan left Cassian’s throat as he took her peaked nipple between his lips and sucked.

As he savored every taste, Nesta’s fingers dove into his messy, loose hair and she rocked her hips against his erection, slowly, as Cassian moved from one breast to the other.

Nesta knew that she was blessed when it came to her breasts, always thought they were one of her greatest assets, and it seemed that Cassian thought so, too.

He only leaned back for a split second for Nesta to take off his sweatshirt and the t-shirt beneath it before his lips found her breasts yet again.

Nesta’s hands began to wander over his broad shoulders, across the ink that sprawled across his tanned skin. Every inch of him was hard. His muscles flexed as he rocked his hips with hers, as he grabbed her ass and squeezed.

“Bedroom,” she murmured in between fervent kisses. “Now.”

Cassian took little convincing. He stood, her legs immediately circling his waist and his hands squeezed her ass tighter. All of the hot, tan skin before her was too much to bear and Nesta’s lips were on his neck as he carried her towards the stairs and the bedroom beyond.

“Gods, your mouth,” he groaned, voice deeper than she’d heard it before.

She was so focused on the feeling of his skin beneath her lips that she hadn’t realized where they were until she was dropped unceremoniously onto the bed. Before she could right herself, could gather her bearings, Cassian’s mouth was at her breast again, teeth tugging lightly on her nipple. With her head thrown back, Nesta moaned, the slight pain amplifying the pleasure coursing through her.

His mouth was gone a second later. She wanted to protest, to grab the luscious head of hair and guide him back where she wanted him.

But then his fingers hooked into the waistband of her leggings and she shut right up.

He yanked them off, her underwear going with them, and his eyes darkened as he admired the display before him. Nesta did not balk from his stare. Confidence radiated off of her — something that she did owe to the alcohol.

Cassian took his time drinking her in, let his eyes wander and memorize every inch of her bare body. Nesta could hear his heavy breaths in the silence, mixed with her own, and then he approached the bed and crawled over her.

He leaned down, his lips brushing hers but keeping his distance. Horrible, bastardly tease.

“So needy,” he breathed, nipping at her mouth. “How long has it been since you’ve been pleasured, sweetheart?”

Gods, she didn’t even know.

Too long.

Months.

Too many months.

Even before Tomas and her broke up, it had been a while since they were intimate. Even so, he never had her heart about to burst through her chest like it was about to now.

“Shut up,” Nesta whispered through shuddering breaths, “and fuck me.”

The grin he gave her was wicked and unyielding as he pushed himself up onto his knees and slid down his sweatpants until they were tossed behind him, long forgotten.

Nesta’s eyes immediately fell to his hard cock. She’d felt it as they’d kissed, knew that he was well equipped, but seeing and feeling were two different things. She couldn’t recall a time she’d ever thought a cock was pretty, but Cassian’s was perfect. She whimpered as he began to stroke himself, her eyes meeting his.

“Condom?” He asked, glancing at the nightstand.

Nesta shook her head, thankful she didn’t have to rummage through her host’s drawers for protection. “IUD.”

That was good enough for Cassian, who crawled over her body, pressing kisses all over her chest, neck and face. He claimed her mouth in a kiss that made her world spin. His tongue traced the seam of her lips and when she opened for him, it greedily danced with her own. Nesta kissed him like he was the air she needed to breathe. Her hands were in his hair, on his skin, dragging over muscles and ink and anything she could touch. The feeling of him was intoxicating.

The hand that had been twisted into her hair begun a lazy path down her body, pausing to knead her breast and circle her nipple, before slipping between her parted thighs.

Nesta gasped as she felt his fingers slide between her folds, teasing at her entrance.

“So wet,” he murmured against her lips. “Is that for me, Nesta?”

Gods, her name on his lips was erotic.

“Answer me,” he said, pulling away just a hair.

Nesta’s eyes locked with his as her hand ran down between them and wrapped around his length. A low groan came out of Cassian as his lips quirked into a humored grin. “If I say yes, will you finally stop with all these questions?”

“Only if it’s the truth,” he quipped.

Nesta’s free hand ran through Cassian's hair and tugged gently on the strands. He slowly thrust himself into her grasp with a roll of his hips.

“I’ve been this wet for you for days,” she breathed, and then his mouth was on hers again. She clung to him, their bodies moving together wildly on top of the blankets.

“Cassian,” she panted, when his mouth slid to her jaw where he nipped and sucked. “Please.”

His hand slid to her thigh and he moved her leg up higher across his backside before positioning himself just right. He pulled back just in time to see her reaction as he slid inside of her.

Eyes going wide, Nesta gasped as he sank into her heat. He was so thick that Nesta felt like her entire body was adjusting to the size of him.

“Tell me when I can move,” he said, leaning down to capture her mouth in a kiss.

Nesta was powerless to stop the quiet moans once Cassian began kissing her. Every small movement, every shift and bump and grind made her nerve endings come alive. She wanted him to move. Not only to move, she wanted him to touch her.

Shifting her hips, Nesta took Cassian’s bottom lip between her teeth and tugged.

The growl that left him was her only warning.

Cassian leaned back, sitting up on his knees and gripped both of Nesta’s hips before snapping his own into hers. Nesta cried out, the feeling so much more intense than just the slow roll he’d given as he pushed into her.

Cassian's thumb found her clit and he rolled it effortlessly as he thrust into her again and again, recklessly and wildly with perfect expertise. Nesta’s body felt it all, every inch of her on fire and tingling. She had no control of the sounds tumbling from her mouth, had no control of her hands as they wandered his thighs, as her nails dug into his skin. She fell into a state of pure euphoria as her back arched and her body began to tremble. Cassian did not hold back, did not falter in the slightest as her knees shook around him and she cried out. As she came around him, Cassian cursed and watched where their bodies were joined, watched where he fell into her with no remorse or hesitation.

When Nesta regained her composure, she took control. She pushed back on Cassian’s chest and he had hardly slowed when she rolled him over and sank down on top of him. He fell into the pillows with a groan as she rode him and he watched as her full breasts bounced, just as he had before.

Cassian’s eyes were something to behold. Beautiful, of course, but fierce, intense as they grazed her body. He paid attention to every damn detail, took in every inch of her and liked what he saw, without a doubt.

Beneath her, his hips moved with hers, thrusting up as she came down, and as Nesta’s knees began to shake once more, Cassian’s own movements grew unsteady. He pulled her down to crush his mouth with hers as he came, groaning between her lips, and as Nesta helped him ride out his orgasm, she completely unraveled.

Every ounce of herself that she had kept in check was gone, totally lost, to him.

As she fell into his chest with heavy breaths and reality began to sink back in, Nesta only knew one thing: she was in a whole lot of trouble.

#nessian #rowaelin #holiday fic #shacmc collab #sjm #fanfic #fanfiction #tog #acotar #crossover

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apex-academy · 1 year ago

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Chapter 6: The Decay of Our Lives (#12)

I make my rounds from task to task all evening, and Aidan has to remind me to sit down for a minute at some point. Even so, I’m pretty exhausted by the time 9:00 hits. At least the bedsheet “screen” seems to be holding up despite Ichiriki’s best efforts to not perform his task.

Despite our event being a movie, there’s no popcorn this time—trying not to think too hard about who made the last batches—just some fruit, veggies, and a nacho bar that no one with an appreciation of symmetry could stand if all the lights were still on.

There were only so many matching containers in the kitchen, okay?

There’s also a big jug of hand sanitizer, in case anyone doesn’t want to take five more steps to go wash their hands in their dorm bathroom. Or someone else’s. Most of us are set up with chairs at our own doorways, but Kanagi’s apparently crashed Ichiriki’s to be a little closer to the screen. Tsunyasha’s room is even farther, but I think she’s more interested in watching the rest of us than the movie, anyway. Not sure what she’s got against the silver screen, but as long as she’s not stirring up trouble, I can’t complain.

Aidan and I ended up with front-row tickets, so he doesn’t have much issue getting people’s attention as he prepares to start the movie.

“It is now 9:00 PM, and our feature film will be beginning shortly!”

“First, I do want to thank everyone for coming, and for your cooperation in getting everything set up!”

“Should you need to take a break or start to nod off—well, your rooms are right there, nehe.”

“But, as far as what you can stand, I’m confident we can all enjoy this event if we only allow ourselves to.”

“So, grab some food while we’ve still got it, and we’ll get this thing off the ground, shall we?”

Kanagi cheers, while Tsunyasha almost seems to consider a sporting and/or sarcastic clap before focusing on her food instead. Mahavir remains a few awkward paces back from his doorway, like he’s unsure if he’s supposed to have his door closed for this. Don’t think that’d be a great way to see the movie, though.

“Just allow ourselves to enjoy things, huh.”

I side-eye Ichiriki, but he’s busy... filing his nails? Sure, why not. Makes it easier on the rest of us if his concentration’s elsewhere.

At least, until he gets bored in a few minutes and starts complaining again.

Aidan whoops back, then makes sure he and his poof of hair are out of everyone’s way before hitting play. Despite a few ripples in the bedsheet Ichiriki put up, the picture and audio seem to be working just fine. Aidan’s chosen video opens with an airplane moving through the clouds.

How shocking.

I’m probably paying more attention to my food than the movie as it leads us into an airport. Not like things have gotten good yet. Just... a little weird.

We manage to make it a few jokes(?) in before Kanagi cackles loud enough to overcome the soundtrack.

“Did...”

“Did you actually get that pun? I wasn’t sure how well these would go with a Japanese audience.”

“Pff, nah, I totally don’t get it at all! I can just tell it’s funny, dude.”

“...Good enough!”

With that, we’re back to actually being able to hear the movie. It’s really not getting any less absurd. All right.

“........”

“This is SO unrealistic.”

Ah, there he goes. I check over my shoulder, but so far Ichiriki doesn’t seem to be up to any crimes besides eating nachos with a fork and knife.

We didn’t even bring silverware over? Why is...

I’m not gonna worry about it. It’s Ichiriki. If it fits whatever his thing is now, he’ll find a way.

“It most certainly is!"

“Like, why would you want it to be real crap? We already get that with, like...”

“...real crap.”

“But surely any departures from your sad, limited reality should be more glorious than this?”

“Tales of heroes, rather than...”

She shakes her head with an unenthusiastic gesture at the screen. I’m not sure what we missed there, but there sure are babies being thrown now. Amazing. This thing keeps oscillating between slapstick gags and extended-setup puns, and it’s hard to know what I should be paying attention to. Is there a plot?

“Not exactly as intellectual as I would have expected.”

“Hey now, some of those setups are quite clever!”

He makes a passing attempt to scoot towards me before deciding it’s too much effort. The gesture’s been made.

He lifts a hand near his mouth for his best stage whisper.

“And you know what? You’re allowed to laugh at stupid jokes, too.”

He mimes an elbow nudge that is both too far away and on the wrong side to actually reach me. Work with what he’s got, I guess.

“Thanks for the permission.”

“You’re very welcome! Use it well.”

“.........”

And back to the train wreck—plane wreck?—that is this movie. I guess it’s not terrible, just... Is there a plot yet?

We finally make it from the airport onto a plane when the camera focuses on some overhead service button labels. Simple enough English, just above something that is clearly not actual Spanish. The screen flicks back to the actual characters.

“Hey! HOW am I supposed to read a FOREIGN LANGUAGE that fast?!”

“Special training?”

“Oh no are we supposed to be reading.”

You... are at least reading the actual subtitles, right? Right?

“Well, we CERTAINLY aren’t if THAT’S all the time they’ll give us! UNBELIEVABLE!”

“Now, who’s this ‘they’ to whom you’re referring? Because...”

He pauses the movie—on a frame of a character looking even more nervous with the motion blur—and rewinds.

“...we have the technology to take as long as we need.”

He pauses on the text in question. The dorm hallway is infinitely quieter for a few moments.

“I STILL can’t read it! What GIVES?!”

“Yo, my name’s Ich, I’m 19 years old, and I never learned how to frickin’ read.”

“That fool is nineteen?”

“NO!!!”

Why is this happening.

“Er...”

A quiet but rough throat-clearing.

“If it’s of any assistance, I don’t believe that’s intended to be a faithful translation into... any existing language whatsoever.”

“So they MADE IT UP? Just for ONE movie? Who DOES that?!”

“That isn’t... precisely what I...”

“Oh, there’s a sequel, don’t worry!”

“I’m classifying that as a threat.”

“As you well should.”

Before this can devolve any further—I don’t know how it could, but with this team, anything is possible—he hits play again. Back to airplanes and flashbacks and whiplash every which way, with the whole bizarro tone being the only thing holding somewhat steady.

But none of us get up to leave. At least some people end up laughing from joke to joke—mostly Kanagi, but she’s been having a rough time of it. It’s nice to hear her back to normal.

Back to weird?

Anyway. It’s just a night of snorts and snickers, random interruptions that can’t take much away from a random movie, and general split attention between subtitles and congealing nacho cheese. I never burst out laughing, whether Aidan’s horribly disappointed in me or not, but a few moments catch me off-guard enough to get a good snort.

By the time the movie ends, Aidan and Mahavir have already retreated into their dorms to various degrees in case they pass out, which they do. Ichiriki has successfully kicked Kanagi out of his own room by virtue of shutting the door behind him when she went to grab a refill. She just booed at him and went to try Tsunyasha’s instead.

I wander back to the refreshments table and try not to pass out myself as the menu screen loops. I should probably turn that off, or something. Not sure I care enough.

“.....”

I’m tired. Not because it’s what-even-o-clock now, though that sure isn’t helping. There’s just too much to worry about. One bizarre lighthearted movie night isn’t going to fix that.

“But it wasn’t a bad break.”

[BACK] [NEXT]

#apexplot #apex6 #fangan

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nancypullen · 1 year ago

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Sunday Fun Day

I opened my eyes at 6:37 this morning because a certain black and white cat was battering me with questions. I refused to get out of bed but I did give her some love. The mister is in charge of cat breakfast, so once his feet hit the floor I’m abandoned by the furry sisters. I don’t care. I love being left upstairs alone.

After our morning ritual we puttered around a bit and then Mickey suggested driving over to the Centreville Farmers Market. Centreville is a very pretty town about 19 miles from us, and it’s the seat of Queen Anne’s County. Their market is fairly new, but promising. So off we went. It was hot and humid, it rained last night and tried to drizzle off and on all day, but what fun it was! I came home with a big ol’ elderberry bush, some baked goods (focaccia!) and the cutest bracelets. There were stalls with fresh flowers, lots of fruits and veggies, some art, breads and sweets, even candy. I was hoping to see some peaches but didn’t spot any. Poor Mickey waited patiently in the heat while I talked everyone’s ears off. He even lugged around my elderberry bush and put it in the car. Major husband points. He was rewarded with this focaccia.

I purchased one and we each had a little slice with our lunch. Basil, feta, artichoke, garlic...ohmyword, so delicious. My favorite purchase of the day was from a really delightful gal whose banner said Fresca Frankie. She makes accessories from all sorts of recycled goods - soda cans, bottle tops, old costume jewelry, etc. It was all so fun and funky.

The beads on my bracelets are made from old soda cans.

I’m crazy about them! Bright, cheerful, just plain cute! This was the first photo I snapped to share, but I was horrified to see how chippy my nail polish was. Who am I? A year ago I wouldn’t have been caught dead with nails like that. Now I’m posting photos of my old lady hands with raggedy polish. It’s hard to care anymore. But hey, the bracelets are a hit!

Anywho, we came home and unloaded our goodies, had a bit of lunch, and then went over to the auction house to peruse this week’s goods. I didn’t see anything I needed, and only a couple of things I’d be interested in grabbing if the price is right - baskets for the pantry, that sort of thing. I only want them if I can win them for a couple bucks, otherwise it’s not as much fun. After that, Mickey went to his office to prepare some instructional videos he’s making for a photography class, and I sat at my desk and fiddled with polymer clay. I should have done my PT, but I didn’t. I traded mental therapy (the clay) for the physical therapy. It was a win. Fast forward to dinner and I made some black bean/veggie burgers, we watched Jeopardy and felt very smart, then we FaceTimed with the Pullen boys. Tyler flew to Minneapolis and is at Matt’s place. They depart tomorrow for Berlin for a few days, and then on to Prague to end their trip. They’re already having fun, what a pair. Oh, the tales they’ll have to share when they get home. They always make me laugh. I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to be their mom. Now here we are at almost 9:30, it’s dark outside, and I’m wondering if it’s too early for bed. It’s not, considering the cats will be talking to me before sunrise. So this girl is off to soak in the tub and then crawl into bed. I’m reading a mediocre book, not too excited about it yet, but I’ll plug away in hopes that there’s a plot twist. Goodnight from me to you, wishing you sweet dreams and restful slumber. Stay safe, stay well. XOXO, Nancy

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kytsuine-blog · 4 months ago

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There is a restaurant at Cave-In-Rock. The area has changed, the food has changed. I returned not long ago, hoping for continuity from a childhood fond remembered. I sought a catfish sandwich so divine, it created in me a love of catfish sandwiches purely from the memory they evoke of that perfect sandwich.

I was only eight, then, or perhaps I was not even that old yet. The years have made the details hazy. The waitress was pleasant, but the wait was long. We looked out over the Ohio river and told stories of what could have been beneath our feet, in the cave and in the past times that never were. The approaching glory of that sandwich makes even those idle tales take on a certain fondness. They are one of the few things I genuinely miss unabashedly about my grandparents, these days.

But the sandwich - oh, reader, the sandwich. I do not have words.

I was a picky child. I did not want lettuce on my sandwich, though my grandfather's came out with a full leaf of Romaine. (This was before the salmonella scares, you must understand. There were then none of the complicated feelings that have since arisen around Romaine lettuce.) Nor did I want tartar sauce, nor tomato, nor onion, nor any of the multifarious accoutrements I have since come to love about the catfish sandwiches of the world, each fond echoes of this one taste of perfection.

It was simple, then. Maybe six inches of catfish on a firm brioche. Each bite was succulent joy, each swallow a promise to do justice to the flavor by the energy it would impart. I was in those days a religious child, and that sandwich was the purest worship I knew how to offer. I prayed my thanks for it, and privately, blasphemously, to it.

When I dove further into that world before surfacing on the other side, while I was immersed in the paths of divinity, I loved best the worship that was the preparation and distribution of delicious food for those who too many of my then-fellow worshippers thought deserved but the penitent's gruel. I think an aspect of that sandwich lodged itself in me and inspired me. If I could give someone the chance to commune with something greater than themself through food, then it was my sacred duty to do so.

The sandwich was gone in moments. The sandwich stretched through a single moment eternal. The sandwich was, but the sandwich is still. It is an aspiration, a promise, and a challenge.

Reader, there is no going back to that catfish sandwich. I have returned to the very restaurant, sat at the very table, looked over an ever-flowing Ohio, broad and deep. There is no catfish sandwich on the menu.

Perhaps there never was.

It does not matter. Despite the beauty of that memory, I have no wish to go back. I trust that the future will - must - hold even greater treasures than that sandwich was. Looking forward with hope in my heart, I promise myself that I will do my best to love each meal shared with those I love just as I love the catfish sandwich that colors those meals.

I ordered the veggie burger. I have grown, perhaps. I asked for it topped with lettuce, caramelized onions, A-1, and a fried egg. It came out quickly, this time. I smiled my thanks.

It was burnt.

The Ohio flows onwards towards the mighty Mississippi, thence to the sea.

this is so real and never leaves me

#food #religion mention

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jumpinjackdragoon · 1 year ago

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So some time ago I was on @valiisthea's blog and saw some Bingo cards and I was like... Hey, those look like fun to fill out as the Viera Dragoon herself! Plus they appear to need a pick-me-up and that I can do!

(Let's just pretend that nobody in the FF16-verse is confused by what appears to be someone with bunny ears)

If there's not a star but a confused-Jack-head, that's a "it depends" and I'm not counting it as a mark. Some things I'll go into depth more since... I like talking about my character.

"Ummm, Jack? You know you have an incompatible orientation with Dion and Terence so why did you fill these out?"

"Seemed like fun."

Yes, I'm aware of the irony that there's so many lines with someone that wouldn't work out. Though between the masculine name, flat chest, and deeper voice, it would be easy to mistake Jack for a prettyboy at first.

Can cook: While Jack may not have levelled cooking very high so don't expect anything fancy, her angling and gathering skills combined with the constant travel means she excels at grilling fish and veggies over an open flame.

Can backflip: She's a Dragoon! Of course!

Adrenaline Junkie: Her drive to be a powerful and brave knight means she's constantly willing to throw herself into danger no matter what it is. While most Dragoons jump into battle, she likes making a grand entrance by scattering foes atop her Behemoth mount.

Likes flying/dragons: Her wish as a child was to be able to jump high enough to touch the stars, so any time she's able to fly is when she's happy. The old fairy-tales made her wary of dragons at first, but she eventually started to come around to them.

Sexually dominant: Marked as "It depends" because Jack is very much someone who can go either way, be it dominance or gender (or desserts. Was once given a round of booing by her Free Company for declaring herself "bisnackxual" when asked if she preferred cakes or pies)

Not squeamish: She's a master of skinning, butchery, and preparing fish, so blood and guts don't phase her... though getting attacked by seagulls while gutting fish will!

Will spar with him: Yaaaaas! It's one of Jack's favourite things, once again inspired by tales of swordfights and jousting knights. While she's usually pretty gentle and easy-going, she's almost a beast once blades begin crossing. (Usually followed by apologies if she went a bit too rough)

Hair pets/physical touch/etc.: Jack can be incredibly touchy-feely with everyone, whether it's resting her arm on their shoulder or giving them a playful few mock-jabs. If she's the little spoon, she likes draping her ears back over the big spoon's shoulders.

Will read to him: And HOW! This Don Quixiote in a bunny's body loves to read stories about heroes, so you know she'll love sharing with others.

Elegance/grace (it depends): On one hand, she's a Dragoon. On the other hand, she has ridden her Behemoth off a cliff on more occasions to count.

Murder :3: Biiiiiig no. While Jack accepts that sometimes taking lives is par for the course, she does so for food, or culling wild creatures, or taking down people known for doing bad things. Even then, she still doesn't like taking lives.

Biting/Scratching: Generally, bunnies may bite gently at people as a form of bonding, like they're trying to help their owners groom. This carries over to Viera instincts as well.

Smoke breaks/strong (physically): Since Jack makes it a habit to stay in peak physical condition, smoking is a BIG no for her. Expect her to immediately be a few hundred paces away between the moment the spark lights up and the moment the smoke starts.

Rough in bed (it depends): While Jack is more willing to be dominant at times (and the whole biting thing) she doesn't like going too hard. Don't suggest breathplay, for example, because she's gonna be the one hyperventilating because she panicked over the worry of accidentally going to far.

Stargazing: Big yes! Jack's love of the night sky is a big motivator for her being a Dragoon.

Best him in sword practice (It depends): Jack's much better with a lance than a sword, so while she does her best, being able to best him might not always come easy.

Let him hear your hearbeat: Absolutely willing, though she does worry that he'd worry she's unwell because Viera hearts are naturally much faster (believe me, it took her some time to learn that Hyur/human heart-rates being much slower is normal. Poor bun keeps getting panicked when a party member goes down and she checks for signs of life because she thinks their pulse is dangerously slow. Let us be thankful she's a Dragoon and not someone with access to Thundaga)

Likes semi-grumpy dudes: Oh, she has plenty of practice hanging out with Estinien.

Loves Chocobos: While Behemoth is her preferred ride of choice, she still has a stable full of Chocobos. Her first one, Nugget, still is at her side.

Well whaddaya know, Barny. You were able to get a Bingo because Jack is... not dead. Despite how many times she ends up riding Behemoth off a cliff.

Genuinely care for him/can tolerate trauma: Ever since the Seventh Umbral Calamity, Jack can empathize with trauma. She's also an incredible listener - those big ears aren't for show!

Must be into old men (it depends): Much like how Jack might get confused with the difference between Viera and Hyur/human biology, she will especially get confused with the difference between their aging. If one race lives much longer than the other, what is the threshold for "old"? (Cue Jack counting on her fingers and mumbling)

A loyal horse (it depends): *Patrick Star voice* Is Behemoth a horse?

Must not be deceitful: Jack might be completely incapable of lying. Maybe that's why she's bad at poker games, she can't bluff even when she can tell others might be bluffing.

Well, this might be the most bingos. I think we can all agree that Clive is just rolling 20s in Charisma.

Social drinking: Not just social drinking, but if a bar fight breaks out you can guarantee that Jack will have Clive's back.

Dog person: Her beloved Bullpup, Cerberpup, and Corgi can attest to that!

Equality/Do the right thing: Jack sees or hears bigotry? Out comes the lance. And since I found it refreshing that Clive wasn't doing the tired "Nooooo, revenge is bad!" cliche with Jill, I'm sure that he'd have Invictus out just as fast.

Well, that was fun to explore my character a bit more!

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sweetwolfcupcake · 2 years ago

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The Forest: Charmed

The Forest: The Beginning

****

Warning- None. The mind plays its games

“One butter croissant, please.”

(Y/N)’s head snapped up at the dulcet voice. Kim Namjoon stood in front of her, even though a counter stood firmly between them, he seemed to tower over her.

“Uh- sure.”

“No greetings?” he asked as she typed his order and let the kitchen staff know.

There was a teasing edge to his voice. And even though his eyes danced with lighthearted amusement, she felt tense. Memories of what had happened in the lift rushed back and invaded her mind.

“Eh, Hi?” Namjoon smiled at her dry reply.

“Did you sleep well?” she froze at his question, his voice was now laced with concern and was heavier. “I mean, you seemed tense after what had happened in the elevator.”

(Y/N) licked her drying lips, as much as she would hate to admit it, she knew that she was in need of concern, she had missed Cindy last night. Her roommate would have made her the best and the most comforting cup of hot chocolate and she might have slept well. But Cindy had a night shift last and she was left all alone in the apartment.

“I’m fine, I am sorry if I worried you. I think I just panicked at the moment. The-the lights just burst and…”

“Yes, I know, I was pretty concerned myself. I wanted to check up on you, but I did not even have your number.”

“Oh-well, yeah…” she trailed off, not knowing how to evade the situation.

Namjoon stood there with a raised eyebrow. “We are neighbours, (Y/N), I think it is past time that we have each others’ phone numbers.”

“Yes, right, what is your number?”

She knew that there was nothing to evade, Namjoon had been nothing but a kind neighbour to her, a gentleman, but the nagging at the back of her mind refused to quieten.

And yet, she found herself blurting her number to Namjoon and saving his in her phone. She could not avoid that, even if she wanted.

“See you on Saturday then.” he gave her another of his dimpled, charming smile before moving up towards the cashier, leaving her to deal with an annoyed customer who had been waiting for too long.

How did he even manage to make her tune out the world around every time he was in front of her?

-----

When she returned home, Cindy was busy stacking the fridge. Turned out, that she had already done the remaining grocery shopping.

“You are saved from another grocery run, rejoice.” she rose her hands in the air in exaggeration, moving back towards the fridge after opening the door for (Y/N).

“Glad, because I am so damn tired. I just want to sleep till next year.”

“And the next year’s a few months away, patience. Okay, I was thinking of steak- medium rare with Bernese sauce.

“Woh, Cindy, so innovative, never heard of the dish.”

“You have a better idea? Miss?”

(Y/N) shrugged and shook her head, she was worn out, weekend dinner was the last thing in her mind.

“Let’s just have some chicken alfredo, sauteed veggies and…”

“And?”

“Why? Why should I do all the thinking? You can do better than me Cindy, you’ll come up with something better. Besides, I need some sleep, and don’t wake me up tomorrow.”

“It’s Friday tomorrow, you won’t go to Uni?” Cindy asked, the playfulness had begun to fade from her tone.

(Y/N) shook her head “I need some rest, Cindy. I could not sleep last night.”

“What happened, another nightmare? Why didn’t you tell me before?” Cindy was by her side immediately, her brows furrowed and voice laced with concern.

“It was different this time…Worse. It was worse than the usual.”

“You should rest (Y/N), seriously. Skip work too, you are worn out, look at you.”

“I found out a few interesting tales associated with Deorc Holt today, Cindy.”

“That’s…That’s the woodland’s name, right?”

(Y/N) nodded in response.

“Hey, we will talk about this later, okay? First, you need to sleep. Freshen up, I have already started with supper preparations. It will be ready when you get back. Okay?”

(Y/N) could only nod, not wanting to speak. There was more than just a lack of sleep. She felt lost and clueless. Every time she thought that she was close enough to the answers, there would be another knot of mystery presented in front of her to untangle.

Sleep, maybe sleep was what she needed.

+---+

She was there again, in the lukewarm spring that had faint steams raising from the surface. The water felt perfect against her skin. This time, however, it was oddly still- no birds chirping, no squirrels- nothing. Only silence, a kind of static stillness that seemed to charge the atmosphere. But she was not alone, there was someone in the spring with her, someone stood right behind her, breathing down on her neck.

It was a man, she knew that by his phantom touches. And when his hand settled on the crook of her neck, she was left with no more doubts. It was a man with her in the hot spring, pressing against her back, his hand sliding down the crook of her neck. The hand was warm, so, so warm and large. It slid around and held her neck in place, before jerking her closer.

The steam rising from the water matched the heat spreading in her stomach. There was a strange kind of comfort in the embrace, even though the tinge of danger lingered still.

She stilled when a pair of lips touched the nape of her neck, sucking softly, they were warm and moist, settling tenderly on her skin as if she were of glass. And perhaps at the moment, she was- at least she felt so- she felt so fuzzy and soft all over. But she could not put her guards down.

He whispered something into her ear, it was breathy and deep, but she could not catch it. His lips slid down her neck, placing passionate, deep kisses on her skin, making the heat rise in her body. Her form seemed to be engulfed in warmth. It was not the same as that of the hot spring. It felt to be emitting from the man pressing himself against her.

But it made her feel so safe, so tempted.

+---+

Saturday evening arrived with lots of mess in the kitchen, a nervous and excited Cindy and an unamused (Y/N). She could not stand messy places.

They had stuck to simple dishes- roasted meat with creamy mashed potato and chicken alfredo pasta. Of course, lemon cake for dessert and some wine by the side.

“Everything is set? Right, here.” Cindy seemed to be a bit nervous about the dinner.

(Y/N) understood that her roommate had developed a liking for Namjoon’s roommate. But for a woman like Cindy who had always been so certain about herself, she was surprisingly nervous. It was like a new side of her best friend emerging.

“Everything is set, they would be here soon, Cindy, you can just sit down and relax.” (Y/N) tugged her towards the couch and made her sit there.

“I just hope they like it.” Cindy sighed out, looking abnormally stiff.

“You don’t need to be nervous Cindy, it’s not like they are your boss or something. Besides, I am sure you can charm the guy– wait, what is his name?”

“Jin, Kim Seokjin, dummy.” she chuckled out.

Finally!

Their moment of relief, however, did not last long.

The doorbell rang. Cindy stood up and brushed the pleats of her skirt. It was a flattering shade of pink, suiting her perfectly with a beige blouse. Cindy had put up her hair into a messy bun.

For the first time in two years of living with her, (Y/N) saw her roommate putting effort to look good for a man. And she was left strangely confused.

She should be happy for her friend- and she was- yet it was slightly odd to see Cindy putting down her guards so soon for a man she had met only a few days ago. It worried her for some reason.

Cindy had always had her walls up, she had always been the more cautious one out of the two, the better at reading people, better at analysing body language and situations. Seeing her like that concerned (Y/N) slightly.

Especially when she had not even met Seokjin, especially when she knew nothing about him other than his name and the fact that he indeed was a very charming man. He had Cindy smitten with him. (Y/N) knew that her suspicions were unfounded. So, she did not want to think much about it, she did not want to surmise things about anyone.

The door opened to two gorgeous men- Kim Namjoon with his colleague and roommate, Kim Seokjin standing outside with a bouquet. (Y/N) immediately plastered a welcoming smile on her face.

It was not all pretence though, Namjoon had been so pleasant to them so far, added to it was his gorgeous friend- the wide-shouldered man- she realised, had seen him in the Bistro before, with Namjoon.

Seokjin, or Jin, as Cindy called him was indeed gorgeous.

While Namjoon had glowing, cinnamon skin, gorgeous with a certain sharpness to him- it was his eyes, they seemed to stare deep into her soul. Every time she looked into his eyes, it was as if she was stuck, she could not look away, even if she wanted to.

Jin, on the other hand, she had noticed, had a certain gentleness to him, even though he looked just as sharp, his smooth honey skin and mirthful eyes were a perfect magnet for people. She had begun to understand why her roommate was so drawn toward the man. He was gorgeous, but not unapproachable.

While Namjoon’s gentleness of appearance was not obvious most of the time, Jin seemed of welcoming and kind disposition. The type of person anyone would let their guards down to.

“You look gorgeous, Cindy.” Jin’s voice was pleasant, warm and mellifluous.

He presented Cindy with a bouquet of white and coral roses as soon as she opened the door.

“Oh, that was not necessary at all, the roses are lovely though, I must admit.” even she could see Cindy’s reddened cheeks, no doubt Jin had taken notice.

“Not as lovely as the hostess.” there was a teasing edge to his voice and it made (Y/N)’s smile wider.

“Oh, you must be (Y/N), Namjoon has been speaking of you so often.” Jin greeted her as soon as his eyes fell on her as he stepped inside the apartment, followed by Namjoon.

(Y/N) could not help slight heat spreading on her cheeks at his words, especially when she could already feel Namjoon’s eyes on her.

“Yes, I am delighted to finally meet you, Cindy has all sorts of pleasant encounters with you to tell.”

He laughed at that but said nothing more.

“Hello, (Y/N).” Namjoon’s baritone voice made her smile falter slightly. He walked up to her and presented a wrapped in a pastel gift wrap “This is for you. You both”

“That is so sweet of you, but, really, there was no need to be so formal.” she found her grip back sooner than it had faltered.

There was something about Namjoon that drew her in, it seemed impossible to look away from his gaze. His eyes were warm chocolate, dark- as if an endless pit holding depths and secrets yet to be unfurled- and yet, under the sunlight, they would often seem a bit lighter.

Those were the moments when she found herself stuck in an inner battle- whether to take a cautious step back or a tempted step closer.

Kim Seokjin had a welcoming, warm aura around him, that would easily make anyone gravitate towards him, the warmth and sense of security he exuded. His tone had been light so far and it was clear who out of the two seemed to be easier to approach.

With Kim Namjoon though, (Y/N) was still unsure, even after their numerous encounters. His voice had an inviting warmth in it, and his eyes had always seemed gentle and friendly. But sometimes, she had seen a strange spark dancing in them, and it was not something as lighthearted as Seokjin.

Namjoon’s held himself high, his charisma seemed often intimidating to her- he was magnetic, but the way her would tower over people, and the way his lips would now and then curve into a smile that seemed to convey more than his words- he often appeared daunting to her, but with a subtleness. The grace with which he carried himself stood out. His gaze felt unlike any other man (Y/N) had met before. There was something that always seemed to linger behind his dark eyes. Like he was…Dangerous.

But of course, that was all unfounded suspicions. Perhaps caused due to the walls built so high over the years that even the thought of letting them down tensed her.

In a while, everybody had settled on the couch and bean bags. The evening rolled on with (Y/N) getting to know Seokjin and the usual friendly chatter.

While Cindy had been so immersed in a discussion with Jin regarding the rights and wrongs of school education systems, (Y/N) excused herself into the kitchen, wanting to make sure that nothing was out of place.

Everything was indeed, maybe the pasta needed to be heated before serving and—

The deliberate clearing of the throat successfully caught her attention. She had somehow already guessed who it was, on turning her head, she was proven correct by the sight of Namjoon hovering over the door of the kitchen.

“Need any help?” he offered politely, an empty coffee cup in his hold.

“Oh no, no, you are our guest, please make yourself comfortable and give that to me—” she laughed it off as she tried to take the cup from his hand, but his hold remained firm.

“Have I ever offended you or something?”

Now, that caught her off guard.

“Eh–no–why would you think that?”

Namjoon only shrugged, and entered the kitchen, proceeding to put the cup near the sink himself, all the while backing her up inside the kitchen as well. That was not intended, she knew, it was only her being so nervous and startled by his sudden question.

Had she been too obvious?

“You just seem distant, that’s why.”

“I…I am sorry if it seemed directed, but my guards are always up outside my circle.” (Y/N) kept her tone light, trying her best not to sound rude.

Namjoon was the last person she would want to offend, something in her kept the bells ringing, and this time, she listened without thinking twice. It was difficult to trust her gut though, especially when the man in front of her had been nothing but polite and helpful. He was the kind of neighbour a person with family would want. He was a high school teacher after all. He never appeared threatening towards her or Cindy- anybody for that matter- it was difficult to see him or Jin as anything but nice guys living next door.

Yet, there was always an air of caution surrounding her whenever she ran into him. Sometimes she even struggled to keep eye contact with them. His eyes seemed to be peering right into her deepest, darkest parts.

“Oh, I see. I was afraid that I had offended you or something. That’s a relief.”

Now she felt bad, even though Namjoon smiled at her. He was a fine man, she noted once more. She had unknowingly been unwelcoming to him. He clearly did not deserve such an approach from her side.

“I’m so sorry if I seemed rude or something. We met as strangers and I just had my guards up but—”

(Y/N) shut up midway, realising that she was babbling like a schoolgirl in front of the popular boy.

This time Namjoon’s smile widened, turning into a grin, his eyes twinkled and she found herself wanting to gulp. He was just standing there, at a respectable distance. Why was she turning squeamish then?

“Then let’s get to know each other.” he spoke

“Huh?” she could not assess what he meant, too caught up in the way his voice dropped an octave.

Or was it all in her head?

“Let’s get to know each other. I want this awkwardness to vanish, you know? Since we are neighbours, it is only expected of us to be good friends as well.” his tone was friendly and warm, as they always had been.

But his eyes. Perhaps it was the lighting, perhaps it was the fact that she had not had proper sleep for days. His eyes, the usual hue of warm cocoa seemed a bit lighter. Almost like the day he was sitting in her apartment, it was the sunlight last time. It had to do something with the lighting.

Yes, the lighting can be too bright and intense.

What’s gotten into me?

She blinked and nodded in a dazed state. There was a strange static around her. The silence felt heavy. So heavy that (Y/N) wanted to get out of the kitchen as soon as possible.

She needed to get decent hours of sleep.

“That’s good. Are you free tomorrow, at noon?”

“Y–yes, yes, I am.” she found herself struggling to keep her thoughts together.

His grin reduced to a gentle smile, simple yet it made her cheeks heat up.

“Okay, let’s go to the park. The on the other side of the road?”

(Y/N) felt a shiver run down her spine at his words. She did not wish to go to that park. Anywhere but the park. She licked her lips.

“Uh, can we go somewhere else?”

“Why? You don’t like the park? I heard it covers a few good acres. Wanted to explore with someone.” he looked at her expectantly.

But her throat began to dry.

“Well…”

“Hey (Y/N), let’s start with the appetizers!” Cindy called from the living room.

“Yes, they’re ready.” (Y/N) responded as she hurriedly began to plate the appetizers, while Namjoon’s presence hovered close.

“Let me help you with that.” he offered, kind as ever, and did not wait for her obvious response, only got to work.

He almost broke two ceramic plates though, causing her to keep him away from them. He would look way better while plating, she would carry the plates.

It was for the first time that Kim Namjoon did not appear all too perfect and graceful.

He had flaws, he was slightly clumsy, and that only made him more human.

(Y/N) sighed internally, she had been so tense lately, putting her suspicions on the wrong people. Must have been so awkward for him.

And as she entered the living room, followed by Namjoon, she was greeted by a laughing Cindy, flushed and heart-eyed as Seokjin narrated the doings of high school kids.

“Appetizers are ready!” she successfully caught their attention.

Cindy had never smiled so much, so genuinely with another man. So this was new. But the more time (Y/N) spent with Kim Namjoon and Seokjin, she realised that Cindy dating Seokjin did not sound as alarming as before.

And she found herself laughing along with the wide-shouldered man’s dad jokes. They were not as bad as Namjoon made them sound.

****

@angryperfectionpersona @apriljoon

#yandere bts #bts yandere #yandere namjoon #namjoon x reader #bts x reader #yandere namjoon smut #yandere creature #yandere male #the forest #the beginning #yandere rm #yandere rm x reader

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simpurnatural · 3 years ago

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Can you write one where reader is the only girl in the glade? thx

*"Yes! Thousand times yes! Hope you like this one!" - Nat <3

What it's like being the "Only Gal in the Glade" HC

The Glade x Fem!Reader (platonic)

Spoiler Warning ⚠️: Not much. But this talks about some stuff from the first book/movie.

You were one of the first people sent up after the first group did

That group consisted of people like Minho, Alby, and Newt

Who took it upon themselves to act like older brothers to you from then on

The day you arrived in the box, the boys added a special set of rules when it came to you

"Put a single non-consensual hand on her and you'll have a date with the grievers. Good that?"

That was Minho's favorite and he liked reciting it to any greenie that came his way

A nickname that stuck with you even after the maze was “She-Bean”

You didn’t mind it, especially since it took you four days to remember your name

You never had a set job in the Glade because you enjoyed helping everyone out as much as you can

Like helping Zart farm some veggies and fruits in the garden

Be awfully good with a knife when helping Winston in the Blood House

Help Gally hammer a few extra nails into the new builds

Spend some time with Frypan in the kitchen to help better his "Five Star" rated culinary skills

Lend help to Clint and Jeff whenever there are a lot of injured people

Mark maps with Minho and the other runners because they like your hand-writing

Even though you weren't a keeper of any group, you were part of the council

The boys learned the hard way to not speak while you speaking during those meetings:

"Shut it you bunch of shuck faces. Don't come whining to me if you have to sleep in the deadheads tonight."

They were shocked to say the least since they’ve never heard you raise your voice before

And when you acted like nothing happened, it scared them even more

“Cool, so anyway-”

A thing that you started that would occur 3-4 times a month was a day when everyone could just relax

That’s when you taught some of the boys how to make flower crowns

Everyone looked like they belonged in a fairy-tale

You all sat in the peaceful forest like area in the deadheads for the whole day enjoying nature and eating fruit

“Winston, the prettiest-glader-princess of them all,” *cue the bowing and applause*

Something you enjoyed doing in your spare time was sewing

Mainly because the boys grew out of their clothes quicker than you did and would just discard them after for a new set

So you took it upon yourself to take make use of them to benefit yourself

“New dress?” “Correction, some type of overalls I’ve been working on. Watch this, Newt.” *widens stance* “PANT LEGS!”

For bonfire nights, you’d have scary stories prepared to tell the boys

You’d notice them all snuggle closer to one another after those nights which made you laugh

Gally’s weird ass drink was something you knew you’d never want to try

“Come on. Just one sip,” “No thanks. I distinctly recall Alby thoroughly rinsing his mouth and dry heaving after drinking that.”

Oh and don’t get me started on how you mother-hen Chuck after he arrived

You’d let him follow you almost everywhere like a little duckling

Sure he was a slopper but that was because he wasn’t cut out for any job, yet.

That’s how you explained it to him after the other keepers sort of shunned him

You let him sit with you during all meals

Accompany and help him with his tasks

Call out his name and wave to him if you caught eye of him while you were working

Ask him how his day was which he would talk about till the wake up

But you didn’t mind one bit

“And then I...” *snores* “Night night, Chucky.”

...

This is my comfort HC at the moment

#the maze runner #the maze runner fandom #the maze runner fanfiction #the glade #tmr newt #tmr alby #tmr gally #tmr minho #tmr frypan #tmr chuck #tmr newt fanfiction #tmr alby fanfiction #tmr gally fanfiction #tmr chuck fanfiction #tmr headcanons #tmr headcanon #tmr fanfic

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theaudacitytowrite · 3 years ago

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Boys night

Series Masterlist

A/N: Part 3 of the Patchwork Series

It’s cute, it’s mushy and I love it.

Summary: Loki and Finn are alone for the first time

word count: 1.266

Hunched over in frustration, her face buried in her hands, Y/N let out a frustrated groan. She rubbed her temples, trying to ease the arising pain of a headache. When strong yet gentle hands began to dig into her tense shoulders she groaned gratefully.

“What’s the matter, darling?” Loki cooed into her ear.

“We just had the meeting I told you about. Let’s say my boss wasn’t too thrilled about our current state of the project.” she recounted fretfully as she let her head fall back against Lokis chest.

“What does that mean for you?” he soothingly caressed her arms.

“That means another day of working overtime if I don’t want to be ridiculed infront of all my coworkers again. Maddy will kill me.” she huffed.

“The girl next door?” Loki thought out loud.

“Yeah, she looks after Finn this week. I had to work late on Monday as well and I promised her it wouldn’t happen again on such a short notice.”

“I don’t see a problem. I could look after Finn.” Loki offered.

“Really? But I thought you were busy with Stephen?”

“That’s why I actually came here. Strange had something personal come up, so our little study will be postponed for a bit. So a boys night with Finn would be the perfect cure to sooth my aching heart.” he dramatically sighed, his hand clasping over his heart.

“You’re such a dork.” she shook her head but couldn’t stop snickering.

“But I am your dork.” he grinned self-satisfied

“Thank you Loki.“she cupped his face in her hands, “Have I told you that I love you so, so much?”

“I don’t think you have today.” he leaned his forehead against hers, gazing lovingly in her eyes, “I love you even more.”

As soon as Maddy had shut the door behind her Loki looked at Finn with a mischievous grin.

“Boys night!” he cheered.

“Boy night:” Finn imitated him.

After an extensive playtime with Finn, Loki saw that the time had moved way past supper. Hurriedly he busied the boy with animated illusions that reenacted old children tales from Asgard. Loki made sure that Finn was properly distracted before he began to prepare supper. Y/N had instructed him to cook something simple. Chicken nuggets with some veggies at the side. That couldn’t be that hard to make, could it?

Loki had put the chicken nuggets into the oven and set a timer. While he waited he began to cut bite-sized cucumber and carrot slices. He was just finished with throwing away the little waste he had produced in the process when the timer went off. He was about to call Finn over, when he opened the oven door in anticipation to be greeted with a mouthwatering scent. Instead he saw the still pale and half frozen pieces of breaded meat. His face fell into a frown. What had he done wrong?

He crouched infront of the weird midgardian machine and grumbled to himself. Y/N had never mentioned that he had do another step to summon the spirit of this metal contraption. He racked his brain, trying to figure out what to do. He had watched Y/N multiple times when she had made Finn and him pancakes in the morning or a wonderful meal for dinner. During that Loki would normally help prepare anything that needed to be cut or he would entertain Finn so Y/N could work freely. He groaned in frustration and leaned his head against the handle of the baking oven. He heard the distinctive sound of bare little feet clapping on the tile floor as Finn waddled towards him.

“Daddy?” Finn patted him on the shoulder, probably confused at Lokis state.

“Just a minute buddy,” Loki sighed, “I’m struggling with thi-” he stopped mid sentence as his head shot up. It took him a while to process the words that had left Finns mouth. He scrunched his nose, taking a deep breath as if he wanted to say something but stayed silent. He shook his head in believe before he faced the small boy who still looked at him with questioning looks.

“Did you just…?” Loki managed to breath.

“Daddy, I’m hungry.” Finn pouted with heart wrenching puppy eyes.

“Yes. Yes, of course.” Loki lifted himself up again, picking Finn up in his arms in the process “The nuggets will be ready any minute now.”

He quickly sat Finn down in his high chair and secured him. With his seidr he swiftly heated up the still frozen nuggets. Y/N would probably shake her head at him right now, but there were other pressing issues he had to face at this moment. His way was much easier anyway. He would try to master this forsaken machine some other day.

As he sat Finns plate down infront of him, he watched him carefully. Finn didn’t seem to notice Lokis stare as he dug into his dinner. He was suckling the ketchup of a nugget when Loki had finally found some words again.

“So… Finn.” he began haltingly, ”You want me to be your… father?” he choked out the last word. Finn looked at him lacking understanding. His big blue eyes maintaining Lokis gaze. Loki scratched his neck as he tried to find an age appropriate phrasing.

“Finny, who am I?” he asked cheerfully.

“Daddy!” Finn cooed and pointed at Loki.

“Daddy...” Loki repeated stunned. He watched the little boy who had continued to eat.

“Do you want daddy to be with mommy.” he ventured in again. Finn nodded eagerly. “Yes? So you would be okay if daddy lives here?”

“And we play?” Finn smiled giddily.

“Yes Finn, we’ll play together.” Loki returned the smile and ruffled through Finns hair. Just then he heard the faint click of a key unlocking a lock.

“Hello, my boys!” Y/N hummed as she entered the apartment.

“Mommy!” Finn gleefully giggled. Y/N quickly got rid of her coat and bag, greeting Finn with some kisses on his cheeks and Loki with a soft peck on his lips.

“How are my two favorite men?” she tickled Finn lightly who began to cackle. He excitedly babbled about their day, Loki couldn’t even understand the half of it. But he had learned from Y/N to smile and nod and encourage Finn as much as possible. With a glance at the clock at the wall Y/N gasped.

“Oh my, it’s way past your bedtime, Mister.” she pointed at Finn in played strictness, “Do you want mommy or Loki to bring you to bed?”

“Mommy.” the boy yawned like on command.

“Ok, then let’s say night night.” Y/N groaned as she lifted Finn out of his chair. “Night night, daddy.” Finn leaned to Loki, giving him a way too wet peck on the cheek.

“Night night.. daddy?” Y/N looked at Loki with wide eyes and broke out in a grin. Loki smiled at her and could only shrug as an answer.

“Night buddy.” he kissed Finns head softly, waving him good night. Y/N kissed him overjoyed before she went to make Finn read for bed. As she walked towards the bathroom, she couldn’t help but turn her head over her shoulder to glance back at Loki.

“I love you.” she smiled warmly at Loki one more time before disappearing out of his sight.

Loki stayed sat at the table, a wide smile that hurt his cheeks, adorned his face. It just didn’t want to budge in the slightest.

For the first time a while he felt complete and utterly happy.

And with Finns blessing, nothing stood in the way of his plans anymore.

Taglist: @lucywrites02 @funsized-mimi @silver-lupines @variant59 @austynparksandpizza @tinctureofmaddness @user13cabs @onlyforloki @marvelfanfn2187a113 @anonymousfiction211 @1marvelnerd3000 @lunalavenderfairy

Let me know if you want to be added:)

Hope I didn’t forget anybody

#loki #loki x reader #loki oneshot #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki drabble #loki laufeyson #loki friggason #loki odinson

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jugheadsenigma · 2 years ago

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Rewatching Riverdale to prepare myself for season 7. I haven't watched a single new ep past the first episode of Rivervale and have just been keeping up through Tumblr.

A couple things I noticed while re-binging /liked/disliked.

- the way the original couples got together was a sweet buildup of episodes despite what B*rchies like to claim.

Eg: Archie courting then dating Val and Veronica getting jealous, Ronnie making Archie face his fear and helping him feel safe, their sweet moments at the party, multiple stolen kisses and tiptoing to avoid hurting Betty. Over multiple episodes.

Eg 2: Jughead flirting with Betty and Betty's little "Juggie"'s, Jughead getting jealous of Betty going on a "date", them sleuthing Jason's room, sharing snacks, and Jughead comforting/protecting Betty only to ultimately and finally round up the courage to kiss her. Once again, over multiple episodes.

- A fault: They really did have these couples break up like every 3rd episode. I know that there's supposedly weeks in , but the timeline feels so messy and the makeup-breakup plot is tiring. If at least 2 out of the major 3 (BugVarChoni) were happy, that third was fucked over by something so petty or right out of left field. The first couple breakups from each party made sense, They were done to protect the other from getting hurt each time. But the rest feels like lazy writing. You can have couples fight and not just throw in the towel.

- You can't tell me that Riverdale doesn't have any magic in it. Not only did CAOS take place in RiverDALE at one point, but when Archie and Jughead go to deliver drugs in Greendale, Archie comes across a dead deer walking. Not to mention Cheryl's magic powers that show up later, but that's for another post.

- The whole "we have a gang but we are going to be lawful and awesome" thing is very cringe lmfao. They also mention the Hells Angel's once or twice about what they do for children around christmas. This is true. I'm a Canadian in Alberta and my uncles were all in the Hells Angel's when they were younger, however they also weren't some perfectly wholesome gang. They do heavy shit. The way they removed all the adults except for FP was also a weird choice, but it's probably because there's no way 40-50 year old gang bangers are going to let a 17 year old kid run the show.

- I'm in the midst of season 3 and I'm reminded at how much I hated the farm plot. The whole "Alice was working with Charles the whole time" thing feels just as thrown together rewatching it as it did when I first watched the twist.

Not to mention the hell that is sitting through Veggie Tales.

However I do wanna point out some plots I really loved to rewatch.

- Serpent!Alice Cooper/Smith. In love. The way she redeemed herself and every time was wearing snake skin was gorgeous and they look amazing on her.

- The midnight club was a great episode and plot. It was cheesy, sure, but it was interesting and made people invested in the parents for once.

- Falice felt very Romeo and Juliet. They honestly kind of remind me of Bughead now. Once incredibly in love, moved on with secrets, things left unsaid, and now no one knows their fate. They for sure would have been endgame is S.U. didn't leave the show.

- Betty's time at The Sisters of Quiet Mercy. I wasn't a fan of the gang not noticing/thinking she was at the farm, however I enjoyed it.

- Bughead and Varchie at Lodge Lodge. I want more that.

-Cheryl's coming out story. It made sense, and actually didn't really feel rushed at all. Cheryl never acted out of love or feelings until she met Toni. She tried to get something out of all the men she kissed on the show. There was never any indication that she genuinely liked any of them.

ANYWHO thats my thoughts so far without making this a million pages long.

#riverdale #ugh #betty cooper #jughead jones #veronica lodge #archie andrews

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x--daughters-of-darkness--x · 3 years ago

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Outlanders: How Jinjer survived a revolution and built their own world

Jinjer’s resilient spirit was forged in the civil war that erupted their native Ukraine in 2014. As the groove metal quartet prepare to unleash their fourth and most complex album to date, singer Tatiana Shmayluk relives the turmoil that shaped them. Cue: one of modern music’s most remarkable tales of survival, resistance and sheer determination…

It was when the first fighter jet flew overhead that Tatiana Shmayluk realised she had to run.

For the past few months, the mood in Ukraine had been growing increasingly tense. As a former USSR state, in spring 2014 the country had only had independence from Russia since 1991. Many citizens had wanted then-President Viktor Yanukovych to sign an agreement aligning the country closer with the European Union in November 2013. Plenty of others wanted to stay close to Russia. Protests began across the country. Then violence. Then Yanukovych was ousted from office in February 2014. Then more violence.

“There was a revolution,” says Tatiana. “There were huge riots in the main square of Kiev. In the end, our president, his ass was kicked out and he left the country. That was crazy. And then everything turned into chaos. And that’s when people really started hating each other.”

That April, following a highly suspect vote on whether to stay or go which resulted in a widely disputed declaration of autonomy for the region around Tatiana’s home-city of Donetsk in the east of the country, on the border with Russia, armed conflict commenced, involving Russian troops, tanks and air power. So began what Tatiana calls “a civil war – Ukrainians attacking Ukrainians”, with those loyal to their former Soviet masters on one side, and those wanting to break free, and have independence and closer ties with the EU on the other.

You may remember news footage of protesters banging dustbin lids at lines of soldiers and riot police. The politics of the situation are obviously layered and complex, but the simple version is: imagine a turbo version of Brexit that actually tore the country in two and resulted in one region declaring an independence that’s somewhat disputed by most of the world that isn’t Russia. And with a lot more violence. And a conflict that’s still piling up bodies now.

Tatiana was having a barbecue when she realised what was about to happen. “We were at a picnic, not far away from my building where I lived,” she says today from her flat in the Ukrainian capital, Kiev. “We were just chilling on the grass, eating food and stuff. And we heard this loud sound in the sky – we looked up and saw a jet. And that was that. We just grabbed our stuff and ran home, and we started figuring out how to leave before it was too late.”

Had Tatiana and her friends – including other members of her band, Jinjer – waited much longer than they did, their passage to Lviv some 1,300 kilometres to the west, where bassist Eugene Abdukhanov and his wife were already living, might have been much more hazardous. Even as they “packed all our shit into a van” and made a break for it, the country was starting to change shape around them.

“Already there were borders built being built around our region,” she says. “And I remember when we were crossing it, we were met by a guy, a soldier with a weapon. And then we heard [machine gun fire] somewhere very close to us.”

As she describes this, Tatiana makes an almost amusing machine gun noise, but she is painfully aware that even seven years on, the situation remains a serious one. “There’s no way out for this problem,” she says, “No solution. And that’s really, really sad.” If one needed an example of the lasting effects here, her parents have remained behind in what she calls, with almost mundane succinctness, “the war zone”.

“There’s an actual border between Ukraine and the former parts of the country, and it’s all blocked. And due to the pandemic, they have no chance to cross borders,” she explains. “They cannot receive money from the government, their pensions. I always tell my mom, ‘Hey, mom, just try once to do this, make really big effort and cross this border, even [if you have to go] through Russia. Just come here and stay here. I can help you in any way possible.’ But she is old school. And when you have been living on this earth for over 60 years, it’s really hard to change your way of living.”

But that’s what Tatiana and Jinjer have had to do. And growing from such trying circumstances has only made them more rigid in their resolve. Because literally having to run for your life will have an effect on a person. “Growing balls, maintaining your balls,” is how she puts it.

“Of course, it makes you stronger,” she says. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

Today, Tatiana has lived in Kiev for more than five years. As Jinjer’s singer, she is one of the rising stars of European metal, and made her living visiting countries as far-flung as Argentina, Australia and Japan to play her band’s music. Next week, the band release their fourth album, Wallflowers, a furious, razor-sharp work of metal that will delight fans of Cradle Of Filth and Conjurer alike, and will add nicely to streams that, in total, already sit at over 100 million.

Though she says that she’s only been recognised around town a handful of times, and that she probably gets noticed more for the tattoos that cover her arms and neck (“Old women who were born in the Soviet Union really reject people with tattoos,” she says. “They look at you like you’re a prisoner, or a prostitute…”) than for her music, at 34 life for Tatiana is very different to what she knew growing up. As a kid in the early ’90s, after the collapse of the USSR, her family were, she says, “average”, but there were clues that the Shmayluk family were not one of society’s ‘haves’.

“I remember that we couldn’t afford meat,” she recalls. “After the Cold War ended we got a lot of American food, like veggie burgers. It looked like oatmeal with brown [fake] chicken that you make into patties, and then you fry them. You eat them as kind of meat, but it’s not. It’s just some shit, like some very plastic stuff. I realised how poor we were. And I was crying, ‘Mom, I just want some meat. I don’t want to eat this.’”

Elsewhere, though, Tatiana remembers her childhood as being “great”, a time she looks back on with fondness. “We didn’t have internet and stuff, so we just played outside all day long. And school was awesome.” The food imports post-Cold War might not have been the most brilliant thing she had ever seen, but the new order also brought with it more western culture. MTV introduced six-year-old Tatiana to hip-hop (“I’d practice dancing like MC Hammer”), but via going through her brother’s room and raiding his tape collection – often bootlegs – she also got turned on to Nirvana, Metallica and The Offspring.

“We had this family tradition that every evening we had supper together around the same table,” she remembers. “When I discovered The Offspring, I put Smash on my huge headphones. I was sitting in a chair, eating, and I wasn’t talking to anyone from my family, just listening to music. And then when I finished, I just sat back and just enjoyed the music, doing nothing.”

Her ability to both lose and find herself in music turned into doing something more significant at high school when, after years spent doodling herself playing guitar in a band with other girls in a sketchbook, Tatiana performed her first gig as part of a talent contest, doing covers of songs by Limp Bizkit and German metallers Guano Apes (“No-one voted for us,” she laughs). Her first gig as an audience member, meanwhile, came a few years later, when Soulfly played in Kiev. Despite the fact she didn’t actually get to see Max Cavalera and his band onstage, it was an experience in itself.

“I traveled from Donetsk to Kiev, like, 700 – 800 kilometres,” she says. “My parents were very protective, they didn’t want me going anywhere on road trips or anything, and they didn’t give me any money to spend. I only got to watch maybe 30 minutes of the show, because my boyfriend got drunk and started a fight with someone. Security grabbed him and threw him out of the club. It was quite a shitty day!”

In 2010, aged 23, having completed language studies at university, and working briefly at a dating agency, Tatiana joined Jinjer. Two years later, they self-released their debut EP, Inhale, Don’t Breathe. A year after that, they played outside Ukraine for the first time, in neighbouring Romania. “That gave us a push to move forward, because we really liked it,” she says. “And although we didn’t bring any money back – we didn’t earn anything – we realised that we want to do this, and we’re going to overcome any obstacle that is waiting for us.”

Eight months later, this would be put to the test by fleeing the war. Having moved to Lviv, Jinjer – Tatiana, Eugene, guitarist Roman Ibramkhalilov and then-drummer Yevhen Mantulin – then all moved into what the singer describes as “a summer house” just outside the city. Soon, the band became a full-time concern. They still had nothing, but it was a more fun nothing.

“We were all just hoping for the best, touring just with money that we had, earning nothing, like one euro,” she says. “Sometimes we didn’t have anything to eat, basically, because we were broke, because everyone had just quit their jobs. We just had some coins to buy a beer. That was intense. But I remember those years only with a warm heart. That was fun. That was a really huge challenge for just people who had never done that before, but we happened to overcome all this shit because we stayed together.”

But as touring became a more regular thing and things for Jinjer seemed to be on the up and up, the band once again found themselves faced with bad luck that most will, mercifully, never know. On tour in 2014, they had a long drive to Russia for the next run of shows. Stopping at a friend’s house in Kiev for the night, Tatiana took a taxi back to her own place, leaving everyone else to continue partying and drinking. At 4am, she got a phone call about Yevhen.

“They said, ‘You have to come here because he’s broken his spine,’” she recalls. “He fell out of the window. Everyone [had gone] to sleep, and he stayed there in the kitchen, sitting on the window frame, smoking. And then he fell asleep, and fell from the third floor. They heard someone screaming in the middle of the night, but they didn’t realise – they thought that it was maybe a dog or something. And then someone checked the kitchen and he was not there. Then they looked down and saw him just lying there.”

By some miracle, he survived, though he no longer has use of his legs. Tatiana says she and his bandmates were “in shock for many years”, and that, “I remember we were all around him, toured with him, just hanging out, and then he’s just like… bam.” But even this incident, which left him in a wheelchair and unable to return to the band, is talked about in the same spirited, fighty way that Tatiana talks about every challenge.

“He seems very positive,” she says. “He’s doing music and he tours around Russia with a band. It’s kind of a hip-hop band, and he plays guitar. He’s still doing tours, so that’s awesome.”

Should you ask Tatiana to describe to you the Ukrainian national character, she’ll tell you that they are “stubborn”, and that as a whole they feel “we have nothing to lose”. She’ll also tell you that, “Ukrainians are very passionate people. Not like Italians [are passionate], for example, or Spanish people. We are passionate with a straight face, you know, not smiling – more like Russians.” When it comes to danger, meanwhile, she says that “we take risks easily”.

Surprisingly, despite the above description matching the impression you get of Tatiana from her story, she doesn’t think of herself as “a typical Ukrainian”. She does, though, nod in confirmation when asked if she sees playing music as a form of resistance. Before any of the bigger events and challenges, this spirited defiance started with becoming a musician at all, at home.

“The first time I resisted something that really prevented me from doing what I love was my parents,” she says. “Mostly my mom, who didn’t want to see me as a musician. In Ukraine, it’s kind of a big thing. If you’re a musician, it’s not respected. From 17 to 23, I was protesting [her], silently. I didn’t, like, yell at her; I didn’t fight with her. I just said, ‘Yeah, yeah,’ and I did my own thing. That’s when it started, and it’s still going this way.”

An example: on Wallflowers, there’s a song, Disclosure, in which Tatiana vents about treatment at the hands of certain media outlets in her homeland. Even being used to internet haters, giving the band shit for everything from daring to escape a warzone, to daring to have a female member, to daring to become successful, the experience left her boiling.

“Earlier this year, in March, me and Eugene went to some studio to do an interview with a Ukrainian guy who is a YouTuber, and he used to work on Ukrainian TV channels,” she says. “So there was a tense atmosphere, and very angry vibrations between us. And he was so manipulative. We had differences in our political views and stuff, and he didn’t want to accept that. So he really wanted to show us in a very bad, bad way. I was pissed off for three days after that, and wrote the song about it.”

As people with a profile, do you think you’re a target for that sort of thing?

“We absolutely are targets for those people, for haters,” Tatiana says. “They hate us for different reasons: for me being a woman, you know. And people think that we pay for [success], like with our money – some of them think that we are hugely rich. My mom is a bookkeeper! My dad worked in coal mining, he was a worker, just working class. But no-one cares. They always find something to blame us for. But at least they don’t do us any harm. Only with words and comments. It’s distant. They’re poison, but it goes nowhere.”

Tatiana Shmayluk is a self-evidently tough woman. She’s also extremely nice. Equally, she’s extremely modest. When she talks about her life’s trials and triumphs, survival and successes, she does so in a manner that almost shrugs these things off, that possibly anyone could do them. Possibly, if pushed by the sight of a war literally kicking off while you have a barbecue, we could. But it’s still surprising that, for someone with more real things to get angry about than most, she describes what she’s putting into Wallflower as simply “my whining and insecurities”.

“Every album, I find something to be angry about,” she says. “It’s pessimistic, but it’s nothing to do with the pandemic. The pandemic gave me some time to just sit and think about, different stuff that I’ve been going through. And we have to agree that the whole world isn’t getting any better – I put myself into this kind of state of mind that, ‘Okay, it’s almost the end of the world.’ Maybe the next album will be more optimistic and more positive. Maybe…”

Pessimism or not, none of it makes her story of prevailing against the things she has any less stirring. Never mind the fact that the band she fronts come from a country most tours don’t even stop at. She’s – rightfully – proud of Jinjer’s success, and the work ethic it’s taken to get them where they are, but she’s almost at pains to share the glory with her bandmates. And in part, it’s this that’s carried Jinjer through all this the most. It’s this, she says, that’s helped her both survive, and to thrive.

“I would never do this myself. I wouldn’t be able to work on so many obstacles just by myself,” Tatiana admits. “And if I had some type of my own personal career, just a single singer, I wouldn’t even start doing that. I really need those guys. And the guys, I hope they need me. That’s just how it works: all together. Even having nothing in our pockets and empty stomachs, we could work.

“It just depends on how big your dream is.”

#tatiana shmaylyuk #jinjer #2021 interviews

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dmmeeble · 3 years ago

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Chasemarsh Monday fanfic recommendation: To see (you) with eyes unclouded by Tiger_with_spots (aka @llamas-dynamite )

Summary: "My parents banned me from watching most cartoons" Kate's brow furrowed, "except for veggie tales" she forfeited. Victoria dropped her pen, utterly baffled.

Because, really, how did she, Victoria Chase (fabulous famous photographer in the making) end up with Kate Marsh (genuine bible thumper and bunny lover) talking about Veggie Tales (of all things) in the first place?

OR IN SHORT

Max Caulfield saves Chloe Price and Arcadia Bay, but leaves collateral damage in the shape of two broken girls; Victoria Chase and Kate Marsh. Somehow, they both mutually help each other grow past their own individual traumas.

OR…

Victoria Chase becomes friends with Kate Marsh and it completely wrecks her gay heart.

My take: As I've said before, this fic takes a very realistic approach to developing Victoria and Kate's relationship from forgiveness, to reconciliation, to friendship, to perhaps more... WITHOUT giving Victoria a pass for her shitty behavior. It's absolutely the gold standard of Chasemarsh fanfic and I honestly don't think anyone writes these characters better, as a pair or individually. I would challenge anyone who is on the fence about Kate/Vic as a pairing to give this a try, as I truly believe you will come out the other side a convert. It is *that* good.

Prepare yourself for fluff, angst, gayngst, mutual pining, photography projects, anime appreciation, healing, misunderstandings, and hella gay romantic moments. Enjoy!

Note: Please feel free to pass along any Chasemarsh fics you feel should be recommended in the future! Replies, asks, or PMs are all fine!

#life is strange #victoria chase #kate marsh #chasemarsh #lis #fanfic #fanfiction #max caulfield #chloe price #pricefield #fanfic rec #fanfic recommendation #fic rec #fic recommendation #tiger with spots #llamas dynamite #to see you with eyes unclouded #chasemarsh monday

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chubbybuckydumpling · 4 years ago

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A Doctor’s Tale

words: 6.9k

relationship: Bruce Banner x desi!daughter!Reader

warnings: character death, slight spoilers for Marvel Studio’s The Avengers, fluff, angst

A/n: thank you so much @gotnofucks for helping me with this idea! You’re so kind and I hope I didn’t make this offensive in any way. I’m happy for any corrections. Please be kind, this was very difficult for me to write and I committed a few writing sins. I hope you’ll enjoy this any way :) (gif by @steves-on-a-plane)

My Masterlist | Part 2

The air was heavy with moisture, yet the heat of the day has not passed. Bruce heaved with exhaustion, the new climate put a noticeable strain on his body. The temperatures made him sweat vigorously and gave him a headache, especially on his way up these damned stairs. He would need to get adjusted to his new surroundings before he could work efficiently.

Another thing he would need to tolerate were the bustling streets. Everywhere Bruce looked, there were crowds of people, so close together it made his hands shake with anxiety. He preferred taking longer routes that were less public and less triggering.

After he had become afflicted with the other guy, Bruce couldn't stay. He was hunted down by the United States Armed Forces, so he had to flee. He knew he could hide in India without much trouble. He read about the country and their societal norms, so he felt somewhat calm, but nothing could have prepared him for the reality of Kolkata.

The city was beautiful, of course. He admired the architecture and the many different buildings. He loved the parks, the bridges and the temples. The different kinds of food made him especially happy, yet he hated how talkative and social everyone is. No matter where he went, someone would try to bond with him, which triggered his anxiety.

Generally speaking, he enjoyed life in India, if it weren't for that unbearable weather. As he arrived at the top of the stairs, his shirt was wet from his sweat and the overly high humidity. With a sigh he pulled out a bottle of water to rehydrate – the amount of water he must have lost is remarkable. The water was warm and not as relieving as he had hoped, but it would have to suffice.

With one arm, Bruce wiped away the sweat that formed on his forehead, before he entered the house he was looking for. He heard about this shelter where some women took in ill women and children who could not afford to go to the hospital. Bruce had admired their dedication and hoped they would accept him as a volunteer.

With cautious eyes he looked around the room. He could see that the owners try their best to keep it clean and welcoming, but the smell of illness is prominent in the air. This chamber is obviously designed to be a reception area to check in their patients, but the cheap chairs and chipped wooden table were a sign of a lack of money. They were probably spending it on medical supplies and food.

Bruce stepped further into the room, the floorboards creaking, “Hello? May I speak to anyone?” Shyly, he began to play with his fingers, feet shuffling nervously.

A beautiful woman entered the room from one of the four doors and Bruce sucked in a breath when her sparkling eyes met his. She looked exhausted, but nothing could ever dim her beauty. The floor creaked slightly as she made her way to stand in front of him. She was small, yet her confidence was unmissable.

The woman raised an eyebrow, “What can I do for you, sir?” Bruce swallowed and let out the breath he had been holding, “I'm Bruce Banner. I heard about your work here. Uhm, are you the head doctor?” She crossed her arms and tilted her head, looking at him sceptically, but nodded nevertheless. “I would like to offer my help. I think this non-profit is incredible and I would love to assist?”

Finally, he broke eye contact and stared at the floor, terrified of the woman's reaction. Now, he could not see the amused smile playing on the smaller woman's lips, “Well, Bruce, how could I ever deny any help. However, I would quite like to learn something about your background, you know. Any qualifications?” Quickly, Bruce looked up a panicked look in his eyes, “Of course, I'm sorry, I should have mentioned that beforehand. I'll answer any questions, I'm sorry!”

She smiled a big toothy smile and jerked her head towards the sink, “Let me just...”. Bruce nodded quickly. It seemed that his usual knowledge of words had disappeared. All he could think about was how soft her brown skin looked and the gentle curves of her face.

“It's Aarohi, by the way”, she spoke as she washed her small hands, “Well, actually Dr. Verma, but we're friends now, right Bruce?” He smiled, completely smitten, “Right”

It was at this point that Bruce knew he would fall in love with her. And he was right. She brought out the best of him, her outgoing and confidant ways helped him to learn about himself and he rekindled with his body and soul. The three and a half years he had been in Kolkata taught him to love himself, admittedly that was still hard for him, but being able to help women and children in need made him feel good. And Aarohi had been by his side the entire time.

She opened her arms and heart for him and lead him through his issues. When he'd wake up screaming from his nightmares she was there to calm him down. His head between her hands as she pressed small kisses all over his face.

When he was too shy to talk to anyone but her, she would do her best to try and include him. By now he was way more comfortable talking to others. It was still scary, but not as panic inducing as it used to be. Bruce became a better man, all because of Aarohi, which is why after only a year and a half, he got down on one knee, hand shaking.

“You are the light in my life. When I arrived in India, everything was dark, but you showed me how to live again. I am a better man, because you bring out the best in me. I love you, with all of my heart. And I know that getting married is not possible for us, at least at the moment, but will you take this promise ring, for I promise I will forever love and cherish you, support you through thick and thin, in times of hardship and in times of ease. You are my world d without you I'd be lost. Aarohi, please accept this ring as a sign of my devotion” - and she did.

It wasn't really a surprise when she became pregnant shortly afterwards. Bruce had never been so happy before. Sometimes he feared about the other guy. What would happen if he came out or even worse, if their child would have his monster DNA, but his spouse reassured him and kept him calm as best as she could, “He hasn't come out for your whole stay in Kolkata and even if he would, I love every part of you, Bruce”

And once their baby girl was born, he was head over heels for you. From the moment he layed eyes on you he knew that he would do anything for you. “Bruce, do you want to hold her? Do you want to meet your daddy, shona?” It felt like time was frozen when he held you in his arms, your tiny fingers mindlessly holding onto him, a tiny yawn falling from your mouth.

And at times it was really hard. Bruce nor Aarohi wanted to stop working, their little clinic meant to much for them. So they switched between watching you and working. Bruce would have loved to bring you with him, but the chances of you catching a disease were too high to risk it. And therefore, your parents spent most of their time apart, yet their relationship kept growing stronger. Bruce's love for your mother increased every day and even now that you're eight months old his heart still swelled when he looked at her.

It's another hot day, the heat and humidity weighing heavily over Kolkata. Bruce is sitting at the kitchen table shirtless, his skin glistening with sweat. The smell of tea fills the air as his thick and delicate fingers fumble with the warm cup, his eyes trained on your sleeping body. He smiles and walks over to your crib, a smile on his face, “I love you, shona”, he whispers before he gently takes you out of your little bed and cradles you in his arms.

Bonding with you means everything to Bruce. He adores you with every fibre of his being, which is why skin on skin is one of his favourite activities. To feel you and to know you're alive coats him in a sense of calmness. He sits back down at the table and rubs soothing circles onto your back, “Daddy's got you, shona don't you ever worry your pretty little head. I promise I'll protect you” Soft lips press onto your forehead, your father's scent surrounding you, “Always and forever”

Bruce gently rocks you while humming a soft melody and simply enjoying the moment. Peace and quiet are a rare occurrence in his days which is why he cherished them so deeply. Bruce loved to trace your features, to see how you look so similar to him.

He could hear Aarohi return before he spotted her through the window which allowed him to quickly dash to the door with you, still safely pressed to his chest. The door creaks as he opens it, a smile immediately covering his face as he spreads his arms for a hug, “ Welcome home Momma, we missed you so much” She laughs at his adorable greeting and steps into his embrace. Both of them are sweaty, but the feeling of their loved one is overpowering, dulling the stickiness of their bodies. Bruce gazes into her eyes as if she had hung the stars and he feels his heart flutter. It only takes a moment before their lips meet in a gentle kiss, emotions and love poured into it, “I love you, Bruce” - “I love you too. So much”

Suddenly, a small cry disturbs their moment, “Oh Y/n, shona, what's wrong? Did you miss Momma?”, she coos and takes you out of Bruce's embrace, “Don't cry, Momma's got you. Are you hungry? That's fine, I'm here” She smiles and gently strokes your hair. “She's had some fruit and veggies and a bottle that you've prepared”, he mentions as he walks into the bedroom to fetch a shirt. Aarohi smiled down at you, her beautiful daughter, “Have you been such a good girl eating all your veggies?” She takes off her bloodied and stained shirt from work and lets down her bra to feed you.

Exhaustion is clear on her face, but even when she sighs, she's the most beautiful woman Bruce has ever seen. Especially while she nourishes you, his own flesh and blood, he can feel his heart swell. She keeps you alive and healthy, the biggest gift he could have ever received. He makes his way over to the two of you and brushes some strands of hair out of her face that must have come loose from her tight bun, “How is everything at the clinic?”

“It's really stressful. I think something is going around. We'll see more of this virus for sure.”, she sighs looking down at you, “We need to be especially careful. I don't want Y/n to fall ill. Not with this” Their gazes meet “I'll make sure to be extra sterile then”, he whispers before pressing his lips to her temple.

She leans into him with a smile, eyes closed, “Thank you” His hand gently rubs over her arm, his thumb drawing circles. After a while you let out a whine, fed and sated. “Oh, shona, are you done? Does Momma need to burp you?” She wrestles you up on her shoulder to pat her soft hand against your back.

“It's very busy back there, you should hurry. Our doctors can't keep up with them alone.”, she whispers, turning her head to look at Bruce. He nods and leans down to capture her lips into a kiss. It's gentle and sweet, just like her, “I love you”, he mumbles against her lips. Then, he leans down to press a kiss onto your head, “I love you too, shona” Aarohi grins and turns you around to face him, “We love you too, Daddy”, she says and waves with your hands in her hands.

Bruce had absolutely no idea why he let himself get dragged into this mess. Actually he did, how could he ever say no to the pleading eyes of that little girl. She looked so tiny and scared and he could see you in that girl. Hopeless and scared. So he followed her, clueless about the events that were to follow soon.

Regret fills Bruce the moment he enters the house and helplessly watches as the girl leaves through a window – no ill father in sight. He huffs, a self-deprecating smile on his lips, “Should have gotten paid up front, Banner”

“You know”, a voice calls out to him suddenly, “For a man ho's supposed to be avoiding stress, you picked a hell of a place to settle” A woman appears out of the shadows, short, curly, red hair frames her face. She looks absolutely stunning. Carefully, Bruce puts down his medical bag and turns towards the female, “Avoiding stress isn't the secret”

She raises her eyebrow, “Then what is it? Yoga?”, she jokes, no humour in her voice. Nerves arising, he rubs his hands together to calm himself, “You brought me to the edge of the city”, he remarks, looking out of a window, “Smart”. With his hands clutched, Bruce walks towards it in an attempt to scan the area “ I uh,”, he mumbles, “I assume the whole place is surrounded?”

The woman takes off her red cardigan and moves towards him, “Just you and me”. “And your actress buddy?”, he questions, “She was a spy too? They start that young?” He walks back towards the middle of the room. “I did”, she answers. “Who are you?”. He is nervous and he feels his anxiety crawling up his back. “Natasha Romanoff”

Silence. Bruce still fiddles with his fingers, but after a moment he looks directly into her eyes, “Are you here to kill me, Miss Romanoff? Because that's not gonna work out... for everyone”. Natasha slowly moves closer to him, “No, no of course not”, she shakes her head, eyebrows furrowed, “I'm here on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D”.

He looks down and rubs his hands, “S.H.I.E.L.D”, he states monotonously, “How did they find me?” Looking up, Bruce sees her looking at him, “We never lost you, doctor. We've kept our distance. Even helped keep some other interested parties off your scent”, her voice is low like she's trying to speak extra calm. “Why?”, Bruce asks.

“Nick Fury seems to trust you”, she answers seriously, “But now we need you to come in”. He can't help but smile, “What if I say no?” Natasha smirks, her eyes twinkling dangerously, “I'll persuade you” He looks down, his pink tongue licking over his lips in thought, “What if”, he pauses to look up, “the other guy says no?” There it was, the elephant in the room.

Bruce is very proud that ever since he fled to India, the Hulk has not made an appearance. He did not receive any unwanted attention and lived life normally. He was able to be a good partner and father, never giving in to his anger. But now, things might change and that scares him. He does not want to let the monster out. It seems like Natasha knows that as well.

“You've been more than three years without an incident, I don't think you want to break that streak”, she says and turns away from him. The echo of her steps fills the room. “Well I don't every time get what I want” When he looks at the woman, she is walking towards him, a phone in her hands, “Doctor, we're facing a global catastrophe”

A self-deprecating chuckle escapes his lips, “Well, those I actively try to avoid” Without giving any thought to his statement, Natasha sits down at a small table that is situated in the room and shows him a picture of a bright, blue glowing cube, “This”, she starts and slides the phone towards him, “is the Tesseract. It has the potential energy to wipe out the planet”

Bruce fetches his glasses out of his spectacles case and puts them on. Cautiously, he grabs the phone to get a better look of the cube, In confusion, he lifts his head, “What does Fury want me to do, swallow it?” Natasha leans forward while keeping eye contact, “He wants you to find it. It's been taken. It emits a gamma signature that's too weak for us to trace. There's no one who knows gamma radiation like you do. If there was, then that's where I'd be”

Natasha leans back in her chair as he takes off his glasses, “So, Fury isn't after the monster?” “Not that he's told me”, she says calmly. “And he tells you everything?”, Bruce retorts. Slowly, but with grace, the woman stands up, “Talk to Fury, he needs you on this”. But it's too late, he can feel his fear rising, “He needs me in a cage?”

In an attempt of reassurance, Natasha begins to speak, “No one's gonna put you in a-” but she's interrupted as he suddenly slams his fists onto the table, “STOP LYING TO ME”, he shouts. With the blink of an eye, the woman grabs a gun from under the table and cocks it right into his face. A scared look settles on her face which she quickly tries to fight back.

Bruce steps back from the table. When he speaks again his voice sounds calm and collected, “I'm sorry”, he says, “That was mean”. A smile plays over his lips, “I just wanted to see what you'd do”. Natasha still holds the gun in her hands and Bruce puts his head in front of him to calm the woman down, “Why don't we do this the easy way where you don't use that”, he points to her gun, “and the other guy doesn't make a mess. Okay?”

Silence. “Natasha?”, he asks. The woman slowly lowers her gun, her gaze never leaving Bruce. After a few seconds she activates her earpiece, “Stand down”, she commands, “We're good here”. The eyebrows rise on his face, smile still on his lips, “ 'Just you and me' “, he mocks her earlier words. Natasha doesn't answer, she just stares at him from a few feet away.

“I need to tell my family. I have a daughter I need to tell her goodbye”, he suddenly realises, a panicked look on his face. Tenderly Natasha walks to him and places a hand on his shoulder, “Bruce this is urgent, there's no time”. There's a wild look in his eyes as he frantically runs to grab his bag, “No, please I have to. Y/n she's my daughter, I love her, I- I need to speak to her”

“Bruce”, the woman's voice is powerful and makes him stop in his tracks, “this is a global threat we are dealing with. There is no time. You can write a letter while we're on the jet. S.H.I.E.L.D will make sure it will arrive as soon as possible”. Bruce looks at the woman with a look that is similar to that of a kicked puppy and yet he sighs in defeat. He will soon come to learn that Natasha Romanoff does not negotiate, she gets what she wants, no questions asked. “Okay”, he whispers and follows the woman outside.

This is why you grew up being raised by a single mother. You love her more than anything in life. She made so many sacrifices and worked harder than any other person you know. She taught you everything she knew, about her work as a doctor, important life skills and most important how to be a decent human being. You try to be as kind and empathetic as you can, but you know your worth and found confidence in yourself.

Of course you're not perfect. You are insecure from time to time like any teenager and you are very temperamental from time to time. However, you are especially sensitive when it comes to the topic of your father. Ever since you could remember your mother talked to you about your father. She told you how kind and caring he is, how he loved you so much. But if he loved you so much, why wasn't he with you, with his family?

He sends letters to you and your mum and money to help you out and you appreciate that, but you wish he would just come up. Sometimes there are articles and reports about the Hulk. Aarohi had told you that your father could turn into him, but that you never had to fear him. And you don't, really. You love your father, but there's no solid relationship between you and your dad.

That is mostly your fault. You never answered your father's letters. Every time you sat down with a piece of paper and a pen nerves got the best of you. With shaky hands you put the pen down before you cried into your hands, careful to evade your mother. So one day you stopped trying.

Currently you're sitting in your room tinkering on one of your inventions. School has been quite easy for you and your mother kept telling you that you inherited your father's intelligence, a proud smile on her lips. Science came to you easily and physics as well as chemistry became your best friends. When you weren't busy helping your mother at the clinic you were experimenting with different chemicals and the laws of nature to try and broaden your understanding of the complex reactions and procedures.

The smell of spices and lemon fills the air in your room from your diffuser sticks while some soft rock plays on the radio. Your head nods involuntarily to the beat of some catchy chorus when you hear footsteps approaching. Not your mother's, she walks lighter than this. You turn around in your seat so you have a good view of the door as it opens to reveal one of the nurses that work for your mother. She frantically runs towards you, her eyes are wide and her lower lip is wobbling.

“Y/n it's your mother”, she whispers and takes a deep breath, “She just collapsed, we don't know why, I'm sorry, Y/n” You freeze at her words, eyes widening. Panic is bubbling up in your chest as your muscles tense, “What do you men? W-Will she be alright?” The woman just looks down which is as much of an answer as you need.

All of a sudden your body releases adrenaline into your bloodstream and you jump from your chair, your heart beating in your throat, “What are you waiting for?”, you yell at her, “Move!”. Your feet are moving on their own accord, the path to the clinic embedded in your brain from the thousands of times you have walked it. Hot wind is whipping your face as you run along the streets, the gravel and dirt scrunching loudly under the soles of your shoes.

You're panting once you arrive at the steps leading to the clinic, the humid air not helping with your struggle for oxygen, but you don't stop moving. The fear coursing through your veins overpowers the exhaustion. “Momma?”, you shout once you've barged through the doors. The floor creaks mournfully under your weight as you fiddle with your fingers. The smell of diseases and antibiotics hangs in the air. Usually you like being here, but now it feels like a weight that presses you down the further you walk in.

A doctor runs down the stairs, her steps rushed. She fixes you with her pitiful eyes and you feel anger bubbling up in your chest. “Y/n, my child, I'm so-” “DON'T”, you interrupt her, tears brimming in your eyes, “She won't die”. The snarling sound that leaves your mouth scares the doctor, but you run past her without care and sprint up the steps.

Upstairs, your mothers is lying on a thin mattress on the ground. Two nurses surround her, one presses a cold, wet cloth to her forehead, the other sits next to her to hold her hand. When she sees you she immediately gets up to make room for you. When your eyes land on your mothers face you release a gasp. She looks nothing like this morning when you saw her last.

She is pale around the nose, all her beautiful colours lost, and her skin is sunken down. Sweat is pooling on her forehead and runs down her temples in miserable lines while her eyes are hooded and half closed. The sound of heavy, flat breathes reaches your ears which finally breaks you out of your shock.

A few strong steps are enough to reach your mother's weak form. You fall to your knees with a soft thud and grab her hand, “Momma?”, you whisper, the first tears falling. A groan leaves her lips and she coughs nastily, “Shona?”,she croaks. A sob leaves your body and you press your head to hers, “Momma, what's happening?”

Her free hand moves up to cup your cheeks and you straighten to look into her strangely clear eyes, “I'm going to die, shona. I need you to listen to me”, she whispers hoarsely. “No”, you cry. Tears are freely rolling down your face. “No. momma you're not going to die, I won't let you, I promise”, you tell her desperately. You wipe away some tears with the back of your hand, before you open your mouth again. “Y/n”, Aarohi interrupts and you still. She never calls you by your name.

“I beg you, listen to me. I'm sick, been for a while. It's only transmitted over blood, so don't worry”, she pauses to take a breath while she shakily brushes some strands of hair out of your face. “You're a strong woman and I couldn't be prouder of you. Are you listening, Y/n?”, you nod, your vision blurry. “All I want for you is to be happy, okay? No matter what you do as long as you're happy that's all I could ask for, do you understand?”, she rasps out.

“Momma, what-”, you whimper, but she interrupts you again, “Y/n, do you understand?” You sob, but nod through the tears, “Yes, Momma” Her thumb moves to wipe away your tears and she sighs,”Good, That's good”. She coughs again and groans in pain,”Please talk to your father, shona. He loves you so much. Can you promise me that you'll write him?” Her voice sounds even weaker now, but your heart beats way too fast. The only thing cursing through you is fear. “I promise, Momma. I love you”, you cry, snot and tears mixing together.

Aarohi's hand falls from your face as her breathing becomes flatter. She closes her eyes, “I love you too, shona”, the words clumsily tumble from her lips. Your whole body trembles as it convulses. All your power leaves your body and your left to loudly cry next to your mother's death bed.

The next few weeks were hard for you,but you could never forget your mother's last words. You promised her you would reach out to your father, so you did. It wasn't long before you received an answer. His handwriting was shaky and hard to read, but you managed to figure it out, somehow. He told you he could not leave the United States by law, but he would be more than happy to welcome you into his home back in the USA.

You froze when you read his words. He wanted you to leave India, your home? You couldn't, this was your mother's everything. All your belongings and memories are in Kolkata, how could you abandon that? But then you thought back to your mother. She wanted you to be happy, right? And maybe a new beginning wouldn't hurt. After sleeping about your father's letter you realised that a blank slate is exactly what you needed right now. Because you wanted to heal.

So you wrote your father another letter in which you agreed to move in with him and began to pack your bags. You carefully chose which of your mother's things you wanted to bring with you. Many of her clothes ended up in your luggage, her distinctive smell still lingering on the fabric. The two photo albums land in there too. How could you not, they kept all the beautiful pictures of your Momma. You also brought her favourite movies, some cooking books and lots of blankets.

Packing all these things was very hard for you and you lost a lot of tears, but now when you look at all of your bags you feel very accomplished. “I'll make you proud, Momma”, you whisper and grab the one of your stuffed furry toys that you did not put into a bag. It's a medicine bottle with huge eyes and a big smile, which your father gifted you for your third birthday. It's your favourite and you decided to keep it close by for emotional support.

With one last look you sit down on your old bed and wait for your ride. Bruce wrote you that someone from the agency he works for will come and get you. Now, all you have left to do is wait.

“Come on, Bruce. It will be fine. You're shakier than me when I've been running on coffee only”, Tony smirks and pats his friend on the back., “She's your daughter, she loves you”. Bruce looks up at him with wide, slightly red eyes, “Tony, her mother just died”. The news of Aarohi's death hit him hard. Ever since he had to leave India his mental health has been suffering.

The government didn't allow Bruce to leave the country without a written agreement signed by the president. He begged them to let him return to India, but they wouldn't budge. The only thing he achieved was tighter security to keep an eye on him. He doesn't remember how many nights he cried himself to sleep. He couldn't see the love of his life or his daughter. Never before has he felt that low, not when his father murdered his mother nor when he tried to commit suicide after turning into the monster he is, but he could not give up. He wanted to be a better father than his own, he wanted to make you feel loved and appreciated.

So he settled on writing letters to you and your mother. Nothing scared him more than the thought that you might forget him or worse, hate him for leaving. He wrote you letters every months and sent you presents he hoped you would like. His biggest wish was to be as present as possible throughout your life. The only replies were from Aarohi though. She reassured him that you still loved him and talked about her life and the clinic. He wished he could be there with her.

When he finally received a letter from you he was ecstatic, but as soon as he started to read, his face fell. The love of his life is dead. Gone. He sat in his lab in shock for two hours, not moving an inch until Tony entered the room. That's when he broke down crying into his best friend's arms, “She's dead, Tony”, he whispered through his tears.

It was the billionaire's idea to invite you to live in the tower, “I know you miss her. Plus I wouldn't mind having her here. Don't tell anyone I said that, but I'd love to see you smile more often”. This was like the light at the end of a tunnel for Bruce. The thought of having you with him made his heart beat faster. Could he finally become the father you deserved?

And you agreed to his proposal. He opened your letter together with Tony as emotional support and when he read your beautiful, neat handwriting tears of joy shot into his eyes, “She said yes, Tones, she actually wants to come!” and Tony was happy to hold Bruce once more as he let out all of his tears, the tension slowly leaving his body.

Now he is waiting for the Quinjet that carries Natasha and you to arrive back in New York. She volunteered to be the one to accompany you. Even though Bruce told her he wasn't holding any grudges, Natasha felt guilty for ripping Bruce out of his family, so when the chance opened to help reunite them, she jumped at it.

“Tony”, Bruce asks, his voice wavering as if he's not sure whether or not to continue, “I'm scared, what if she doesn't li-” , but his best friend stops him, “Ah ah ah, no such negativity under my roof!” He pauses to glance at his surroundings, the wind howling around his ears, “or, you know, on my roof” Their eyes meet for a second, before Bruce goes back to rubbing his hands anxiously.

“Seriously Banner, you'll be fine. I've known you for sixteen years and I know that I have fallen in love with you at least three times”, the philanthropist says and smirks at the others shocked expression.

Before any of them can say another word the whirring of the Quinjet sounds from the distance. Bruce immediately straightens all colour draining from his face. A cold sweat is breaking out on his forehead and his hands become clammy. Tony leans forward and whispers gently, “You've got this, Banner”.

It feels like a lifetime, but also only a few seconds before the S.H.I.E.L.D plane lands on the roof and the motors slow down. Bruce holds his breath, scared, but hopeful. His life is about to change in just a few moments, for better or for worse. Nervously, his eyes focus on the exit of the Quinjet as he awaits to see you again, after sixteen years of missing you with all of his heart.

The electric sound of the gate opening makes his hands shake in anticipation. And then he sees you standing next to Natasha in all of your beauty. Your hair is pulled back into a braid which makes your eyes pop all pretty. A thin long sleeve and a pair of mum jeans hug your body nicely, yet you avoid to look into his eyes. Natasha and you both carry two suitcases each, but there are still some more bags on the plane.

The older woman gently nudges you forward with a smile to be encouraging. The cold New York air makes goosebumps rise on your arms and you shiver. This is it, you will finally meet your father. You swallow down your fear and move forward, eyes still trained on the floor. Natasha's footsteps are right behind yours which comforts you greatly. You've come to like her during the flight.

It's only when two pairs of shoes come into your vision that you stop dead in your tracks. The luggage that you've been carrying drop to the floor and you use all the courage you can muster to look up at your father, your heart beating loudly. Bruce looks as nervous as you feel, pale face and sweaty hands, but he puts on a brave face and forces a crooked grin to appear.

“Hey, shona”, he mouths your pet name. The look in his eyes is so hopeful it makes your heart churn. All the fear and anger you've carried with you is suddenly forgotten as tears collect in your eyes. The only thing you feel is the longing for your father's love that you've been deprived of for all these years. “Daddy?”,you whisper. As the words leave your mouth you start to run forwards, right towards Bruce.

He opens his arms right in time for you to fall into them, your face buried in his chest. Sobs leave your mouth as your tears stain his graphic tee, “I missed you so much”, you whimper and fist his jacket to pull him closer. He wraps his strong arms around you and carefully places his head onto yours, “I missed you too, shona, so much”. His voice breaks and a few tears begin to fall, some out of relief, some out of guilt.

The sound of your sobs and sniffles fill the silence. It's like a heavy weight was lifted from your shoulders. You were so scared to arrive in New York and how different things were going to be, but being in your father's embrace is all you needed. All this time you've been so occupied with being angry that you never realised how much you wanted any kind of fatherly love.

When you pull back to look into Bruce's eyes you stare into his red rimmed eyes, some single tears resting on his cheeks, “Y/n, I'm so sorry. I wish I could have returned home, but I had to sign these agreements and they wouldn't let me. I never forgot about you, shona. I love you so, so much”. His voice is shaky and rough and he reaches out to cup your face, his fingers wipe away your tears.

“It's okay”, you find yourself saying, “You're with me now, that's all that matters”

You both smile at each other, happiness radiating from you, when your moment is rudely interrupted. “I told you everything would be alright, Banner, Just shows you should listen to me more often”, Tony declares with a smirk to which Natasha responds with a warning glare. “Oh come on, Nat. I'm just joking”, he shouts before turning to you and winking obnoxiously.

“Y/n”, your father begins, “this is Tony, my, uh, best friend. This is his tower in which you'll be living with me. We have our own level”. Your eyes widen, “We have our own floor? That's insane!”

Tony laughs and puts a hand on your shoulder, “Of course, only the best for my science buddy and his daughter. If you have any questions, you may ask F.R.I.D.A.Y, she is an artificial intelligence built into the tower. She'll be available whenever”, he states, his eyes sparkling, “Isn't that right, F.R.I.D.A.Y?” The AI answers immediately,”Anytime, boss”.

Bruce smiles at you. His heart feels light and happy and he looks over to Natasha who gives him a thumbs up and a wink. “Dad?”, you ask him, shivering a little, “Can we go inside? I'm freezing”. “Of course”, Bruce nods eagerly, “let me just help with some of your bags”. Happily, he skips to the Quinjet to grab some of your luggage and hauls them over his shoulder. “Let's go, then”.

You walk behind your father, Natasha and Tony close by, as you take in the inside of the Avengers Tower. You can't believe your eyes: The sheer size of everything is overwhelming to you, but you're very excited. Meeting your father was scary, but now that the anxiety has fallen off of you, you're all blissed out and floaty.

The lift is very smooth, but the glass floor makes your stomach twist uncomfortably. Bruce notices your nervous shifting and slings his arm over your shoulder to pull you closer to him. Grateful for the warmth, you turn to him with a smile and mouth a thank you. In just a few seconds you've reached the right floor. Once all your bags are moved into your apartment, your father turns to his friends with a smile, “I think we've got it from here. Thank you, guys”

They nod at him and leave to give you two some privacy. “Do you want to see your room? We can unpack your things”, he asks, a nervous waver in his voice, “if you're okay with me helping, of course”. You take one of his hands in your own and grin, “I want you to be there with me. I spent so much time wishing you were home. I'm not letting you go any time soon”.

Hearing these words, he can't help but tear up, “I'm so happy you're here, shona. I wish your mother could have been with us too”. You release a shaky sigh and try to hold back tears of your own, “Me too, dad. Me too”. The feeling of being pulled into a hug by your father pulls you out of our head and you realise you started crying again. “I just miss her so much”, you sob into his chest.

A sniffles sounds from above you and you raise your head to see Bruce crying, “I'm sorry”, he whispers and wipes away some of his tears. “It's okay. At least I have you back now, daddy”. Gently, he cups your head and presses a kiss to your hair, “We've got this, shona. We're not alone anymore”, he tells you meaningfully, trying to convey that he meant what he said.

“Shona, I love you”

You breathe in and place his hand on your erratically beating heart.

“I love you too, daddy. So much”.

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unmaskedagain · 5 years ago

Text

Marinette Vs Santa

A quick Christmas drabble.

How did Marinette find out she was adopted? Well… her little half-brother tried to kill her.

Also, that’s how she found out her biological dad was Batman. Because… why not. As if her life wasn’t weird enough already.

And to think Marinette had been secretly writing Santa every year since she was three to like nine asking for a sibling of her own. She didn’t think it would ever happen

Then one day, on a cold December night, as Ladybug ran across rooftops to see as many of the Christmas decorations as possible. Suddenly every instinct she had told her to duck. And she did just narrowly avoided a sword to the throat.

Marinette readied herself to fight an Akuma, only to see an angry ten-year-old with a sword and a mask. He was dressed in green, red, and gold.

“Die, usurper!” He roared and attacked her again.

Ladybug dodged and jumped every attempt to kill her and tried to resist the urge to punch a child.

Eventually she got the better of the kid, and ended up hog tying him.

Marinette put her hands on her knees as she struggled to catch her breath, “Who. Are. You. Nightmare. Child?” She asked in between breaths. Ladybug picked up the fallen sword and pointed at him. “And what is your problem? What did I even do to you?”

“You are Marinette Dupain-Cheng, first born blood child of our father.” He hissed at her, “I am our father’s rightful heir; not you.”

Our father? Did her dad have a lovechild? Did he cheat on her mom? No, Tom Dupain would never.

“What?” Marinette pinched her nose. “You want to be head baker?”

“Fool!” He tsk’d at her. “I’ve no interest in your adoptive parents’ holdings. I will follow Father’s footsteps and rule the night. I will be Batman. Not you, sister. Kneel before me and renounce your heirship, and I will spare your life.”

…Wait Adoptive? Batman? Sister?

Marinette just stared at him. Not saying a word. For a while. Awhile he insulted her.

She looked out at the colorful lights that glowed against the freshly fallen snow and sense of peace that filled the air, and Marinette whispered the only thing on her mind…

“Fuck Santa.”

The boy stopped struggled and gave her a perplexed look, “What? What does the jolly fat man have to do with anything? Why has he made you angry, sister? I will avenge you.”

You just tried to kill me, she wanted to say.

Marinette just rolled her eyes, “Never mind. We need to talk.” She picked him and tossed him over her shoulder. “In my room.”

Running across Paris with a struggling kid on your shoulder and a sword in your hand wasn’t easy.

When she got to her room, she dropped the kid on her bed as gently as possible. “Do not escape,” She ordered. “If you do, do not destroy my room. I’m going to ask my parents if…” If they’re really her parents. Why didn’t they tell her? Why? Just Why? “What you say is true. I won’t mention Batman.”

Or the psychotic ten-year-old she had tied up in her room. Who may or may not be her brother.

Marinette de-transformed. Tikki hid in her hair before anyone could see her.

She came back to her room half an hour later with a cheese plate, full of veggies, fruits and crackers. And a tray full of chocolate chip Christmas cookies and two glasses of milk. She sat them down at the desk.

The boy glared at her.

“You were right,” Marinette sighed. “I was adopted. My birth mom was just nineteen when she had me. The sister of one of my mom’s friends.”

The news had been a blow. Her parents had kept repeating how much they loved her and how they had been planning on telling her when she was older. Older than fourteen. They wanted to know how she found out. She said her little brother had gotten in contact with her.

Marinette eyed the still tied up boy… her brother. He no longer struggled against his bonds, just stared with an angry expression on his face. “I don’t want to be Batman,” She told him. “The title is all yours. I like being Ladybug. It’s a name I earned, worked hard for. A name I’m proud of and will not part with easily. Is that something you can understand?”

He stared at her for a moment before nodding slowly, “You created your own hero persona to find the terror entrapping your city; all by yourself. …Father did the same.”

He said the last part with a sad tone that Marinette’s new found big sisterly instincts go haywire. “And you think just because you’re his… partner,” She said, instead of sidekick because she was sure that word would get her killed. “And not a solo hero, that he will find you unworthy of being his heir.” Marinette sat down next to him, and patted his hair softly. “Did you ever think that because he is the one who’s training you, that because you fight by his side, that he’d trust you more? Trust you to take up his mantle in the way he can’t trust me. He doesn’t know what I’m capable of entirely. But he knows exactly what you can do because he taught you.”

Her brother scoffed but his face lost some of its anger and he seemed to relax.

“I’m going to untie you now,” She told him. “Do not attack me.”

When he was untied and given back his sword, which he sheathed, Marinette brought over the food. “You know my name,” She said after he took a bite a cookie and seemed pleased with it. “What’s yours?”

“Damian,” He answered. “Damian Al-Ghul Wayne. How did you obtained magical powers? And what is the creature that thought it could hide from me?”

Marinette just blink. Because Dammit Tikki. The pink ball of fluff out with a chastised look on her face. Unfortunately that look meant nothing as all the other Kwami Marinette now protected as Guardian thought that meant they could come out to.

Plagg straight to Damian and sat on his lap, “Cheese. Now.”

Marinette face-palmed. The Kwami had taken trying to declare dominance ever since Ladybug took the ring back from Chat Noir.

Damian could only stare at the being, animal, and sprite as he reached slowly for a piece of cheese from the selection of food and handed it the small creature. That was all the other Kwami needed to rush to him for attention. Damian was easily mesmerized by the little creatures and saw no issue in showing them affection. Apart from the fact that Oracle, and Father, and thus the rest of the family were watching the feed, through the mask, while they attempt to locate him. Damian could only disable their trackers for so long. Annoying as she was, Oracle was a genius.

“Okay, little brother,” Marinette shrugged. “You tell me your story. I’ll tell you mine.”

And so they did. The two siblings spent the next few hours telling the other all about their history. Neither were happy.

Marinette was beyond furious that her little brother was raised by ruthless assassins, cast into the role of Robin (though mostly by his own doing), constantly risked his life, and had little no childhood.

Damian was pissed, which was putting it nicely. His beloved sister had no training when she was charged with the task of defending the city as the hero Ladybug and fight a supernatural terrorist, dealt with sexual harassment from her once trusted partner, then her master died in battle but not before he bestowed one of the most powerful magical artifacts of all time to a teenager. To top it all off, his sweet sister was being bullied by a pathological liar who turned all her friends against her, nearly got her expelled, leaving her with little to no Allies to aid her in her fight against evil. Marinette had cried at the end of her tale.

…He was going burn Paris to the ground.

Little did he know, the Batfamily found it hard not to agree as they watched the livestream from the Batplane?

Dick had gone from jumping up and down at the sight of his adorable new sister, Marinette. She was a hero called Ladybug, how cute was that? To being rather angry at what she had to put up with. It was too much pressure for a kid, superhero, superpowers, or not.

“What do we do?” Tim asked.

Batman was still having trouble processing. He had another daughter; a beautiful little girl who seemed to have taken after him without ever having known the man. Nature versus Nurture, he supposed; nature won. Marinette who had been fighting to save her city like he fought to save his. Who was her mother? Why didn’t she tell Bruce he had another child? Granted Brucie wasn’t who most people thought would be an ideal father but still… Hadn’t he proved himself?

“Find Hawkmoth,” Jason growled. “Punch a hole through his face. And Send Steph and Cass to have a “Talk”, he air quoted. “With that Lila chick. While we have a little talk of our own with Chat Noir. End of story.”

Cass nodded, gleefully, that little girl would pay for what she did to Cassandra’s sister. And if she was lucky, Lila would even live to tell the tale.

Stephanie was wondering if the Batfamily, her sort of-adopted family, could really get away with murder.

…Who was she kidding? They totally could.

“We don’t… kill?” Batman said as he turned around and stalked away. “I’ll inform Alfred of the development.” Maybe have him prepare a room, he thought with hope. He’d like his daughter to visit and feel at home whenever she could.

When Batman left the area, Tim looked around at his siblings, “Did that sound like a question to anyone else?”

Marinette and Damian fell asleep next to each other, with the Kwami cuddled close. The next morning she woke not only to sound to the sound of the Kwami but to the sight of five additional vigilantes heroes, in addition to the one from the night before, hovering around her room.

Two girls who were discussing with Trixx and long about their abilities. A hero in mostly black and red, who sat on Marinette’s top bunk with Marinette’s laptop on his lap, and Pollen on his shoulder. Damian still had Plagg with him, which Marinette wanted to tsk at because she told him not to play favorites. A blue, clearly the oldest, was laying on the floor playing with the remaining Kwami like they were puppies.

She sat up in her bed and tried to wipe the sleep from her eyes. She glared at Damian, “Want to explain?”

“Mornin, sunshine,” A guy in a redmask said, with Barkk on his shoulder, as he chopped on a leftover cookie, not noticing the way Tikki glared at him. “Name’s Red Hood. Real name Jason. Dad’s downstairs talking to your parents.”

Dad?

She glared even harder at Damian. He shrugged, “Marinette, these are our… brothers and sisters.” He said. “They were adopted.”

“You should get better security on your computer,” The hero on her bed said. “Name’s Tim. I go by Red Robin.”

“Cassandra,” One the girl introduced. “Blackbat.”

“Stephanie. Batgirl,” The other said.

“I’m Dick!” The one on the floor laughed. “Nightwing. Welcome to the family.”

Tim continued, “I’ve located all personal information on Lila Rossi. I believe we can now move forward with the plan.”

Jason clapped his hands together, “Awesome. Operation: Get That Bitch is a go.”

Marinette just started at them. Six. She had six siblings. One for every year ever asked for a sibling for Christmas. She just had one thing to say as she tossed the covers back over her head to hide from the world…

“Fuck. Santa.”

Finding out Bruce Wayne, cough Batman cough, was her father was one thing. Meeting him in person was another. He stared at her with cool blue eyes that made Marinette realize she probably should’ve questioned where she got her own long before.

Her parents had been surprised when Bruce Wayne walked into their bakery and asked to speak with them alone. Even more so, when he claimed to be the biological father of their daughter. It had been long conversation between the three. But Bruce made it clear that he had interest of just taking Marinette from them. However, he would like visitations and for her to spend time with him over the summers. And to take her out for the day so she could meet her siblings. Also, about adding Wayne to her last name.

So that was how Marinette found herself sitting in one of the most expensive restaurants in all of Paris, in the best dress she ever designed herself, with her… family.

The initial awkwardness was broken up by all her siblings. Though they seemed to know to how to behave in public, they had no problems messing with each other and teasing.

“How long have you been into fashion, Marinette?” Bruce, her Papa, (As her dad would always be her dad).

She smiled, “Since I was really little. It’s my dream to have my own line.”

Bruce’s eyes got bright at the chance to help his daughter, “I can help you with that. I can drum up a connect or two, to get you started.”

“He’ll throw money at it until someone cracks,” Jason translated which cause Marinette to laugh and Bruce to glare.

Marinette discovered Damian had snuck Plagg with him to the restaurant.

Marinette just groaned.

“You brought Tikki!” Damian defended.

“I’m the holder of her Miraculous,” She hissed back as low as she could. “Paris’s main and sometimes only hero. I need her.”

Damian huffed, “That’s no reason he shouldn’t be allowed to attend as well. He’s with me.”

Before Marinette could continue the arugment…

“Wayne?” Gabriel Agreste asked, tailed by Natalie, Adrien, Chloe, and Chloe’s parents: Audrey Bourgeois and André Bourgeois. “Bruce Wayne?”

Bruce put on his most charming smile as he stood up, “Yes and you are?” He put out his hand.

Gabriel shook it, clearly wondering why the billionaire was there. “Gabriel Agreste.”

Bruce nodded, “The fashion designer.”

“This is my son Adrien,” Gabriel introduced. “My assistant Nathalie. My longtime friend Audrey Bourgeois, of the Style Queen, and André Bourgeois, mayor of Paris, and their lovely daughter. We’re here for a quick lunch.”

“Same,,” Bruce nodded. “I’m here with my children. My eldest Dick, followed by Jason, Cassandra, Stephanie, Tim, Marinette and my youngest Damian.” He introduced them.

At the sound her name, all the newcomers eyes went to Marinette. She gave them a small wave, “Good to see you again.”

“Dupain-Cheng!” Chloe gasped.

Damian growled, “Dupain-Cheng-Wayne.” As he glared passed her at the blond boy, the former Chat Noir.

The blond girl was stunned, “How could you not tell me?”

Hadn’t the two moved passed their difference and become friends? The two girls, and Kagami and united together when the liar seemed to take hold of the rest of the class.

“No one knew,” Marinette defended. I didn’t even know, she wanted to add. But they had discussed and agreed on the story that Bruce and an unknown woman gave up Marinette to the Dupain-Chengs when she was born. Nothing scandalous about it.

Gabriel paused as he tried to think of what to say. How did he not know there was Wayne living in Paris, that his son was classmates with a Wayne. The girl had power in her pinky when she was still in Nappies, then either of the older Bourgeois had currently in their entire bodies. She would’ve been a much better playmate for his son than Chloe; the vapid, girl that she was.

Audrey was thinking nearly the same thing. “Such a brilliant daughter you have, Brucie,” She smoozed. “I still can’t believe she turned down the internship I offered her. I want her to come to New York with me, you know?”

Bruce beamed, “I’m glad someone sees her brilliance.”

This went on for a while as each of the parents tried their hands at flattering the billionaire. Bruce finally had enough and all but dismissed them

“I’m glad our children our such good friends,” Gabriel said finally as he turned to leave.

Marinette fought he urge to scoff. Adrien was not her friend.

The boy in question looked anywhere but at Marinette as he left. He had chosen to side with the other students when the Ice’d out Marinette until the girl stopped being a bully and being mean to Lila. Even if he knew it wasn’t true. Most declared they weren’t her friends anymore. Alya said she’d never be friends with Marinette again.

Coward, Damian nearly hissed. When they were gone, he turned to Marinette, “The blond girl is your alley, correct?” He asked. “Your Queen?”

Marinette nodded, “There’s Luka and Kagami as well.”

“I will test to ensure they are worthy to fight at her side,” He declared.

The others nodded. Bruce got a dark look on his face, “We all will.” He would not allow his daughter to suffer another Chat Noir.

That was it, Marinette thought as she threw down the sliver napkin, she was starting to hate Christmas.

The end of the weekend the entire world knew that Marinette was Bruce Wayne’s daughter. This made going to school Monday morning a huge spectacle as paparazzi crowded the outside the bakery and outside the school. Each one trying to get the attention of Wayne’s crown jewel, new Princess of Gotham, as the media dubbed her.

Suffice to say, Bruce had taken her to school that day flagged by Dick and Tim as her other siblings combed the city for traces of Hawkmoth.

The principle had practically fallen over himself to speak with the Bruce Wayne. But quickly hid in the shadows, when the first thing Bruce said to him was, “Ah, yes, you’re the man who expelled my daughter without a proper investigation. I’ll be talking to you later. So will my lawyers.”

Marinette tried to hide her blushing face her father walked her to class. Students did everything they could to get a look at her. Chloe and Kagami waited outside her classroom, that was practically bursting with noise.

However She practically drop dead when Tim complimented Kagami’s sword fighting skill and offered to duel her, and Kagami blushed. Blushed. Kagami?

Marinette shook her head as she kissed her father and brothers goodbye. This world just didn’t make sense anymore.

The two other girls flanked Marinette’s side as they walked into class. All noise stopped instantly. Marinette didn’t even bother spare the other kids a glance as the three took a seat in back of the class.

Chloe quickly pulled her into a conversation of the places she’d see that summer in New York.

“I’ll be spending the end of Christmas break in Gotham too,” Marinette said shyly. “I’ll open my presents there. Papa wants me there for the Wayne Ball was I can be properly introduced to society.”

And not because Bruce Wayne was scared of what Alfred would do if he didn’t get to mean his new granddaughter before the new year. That and Martha Kent were the ultimate overprotective grandparents.

“A Ball?” Lila squeaked, poorly concealed jealously on her face. She still couldn’t believe the little twit was Wayne. IF she had, Lila would’ve been a hell of a lot nicer. No wonder Marientte always knew when Lila was lying. She probably knew the celebrities through her father. “You’re going to the Waynes’ Annual New Year’s Ball.”

“Everyone goes,” Rose awe’d. “It’s basically a red carpet event. I watch every year. And Selena Gomez had the most beautiful dress on last time.”

Juleka hummed in agreement, “Clara Nightingale looked like a princess.”

Marinette just shrugged as each of her classmates offered their input on what the Ball would be like. She wasn’t about to make nice with them. They had turned their backs on her, betrayed her trust. Her brothers and sisters had warned her to be watchful for phony friends.

Alya, who’s face had been turning steadily more red, as the classmates speculated who Marinette would meet. “Girl!” She burst. “How could not tell me?”

Marinette raised a thin eyebrow, “We’re not friends, Alya, by your own declaration. I don’t believe I have to tell you anything. And even when we were friends, I only knew you for two years. Why would I tell a journalist anything important about me?”

“She was right not to,” Kagami stated, “With how quickly you all turned on her, I’m surprised she ever told you anything at all.”

Alya flinched back as if slapped. So did a few other students.

“It’s not fair,” Alya continued as if nothing happened. “I could’ve gotten so many interviews. OH! I could with you to the Ball. It’ll be bomb.”

The three girls in the backrow just stared at her.

“We. Are. Not. Friends,” Marinette repeated slowly. “Kagami and Chloe, and their families are invited because Kagami. And. Chloe. Are. My. Friends. In fact, my only friends in class. Luka is invited as well as well as his family,” She turned to Juleka who turned bright red. “Luka will receive invite tonight. If you attend with him, I will do my best to be polite. My father allowed me to invite them so I would have additional company if it gets too busy. The Ball is invitation only.”

Allowed? He insisted. Marinette doesn’t even know how he found out all their names and who their families were. For reason, Marinette had the gut instinct to blame a redhead and Tim. Batman wanted to test his daughter’s team. And if they were lacking… Well, he’d promised to shape them up. Or else.

“I’m going to the Wayne Ball!” Chloe shouted. “And you didn’t tell me. It’s mere weeks away. I need a dress. I need to tell Mother.”

Kagami had frozen. She knew well that the Wayne Ball wasn’t just any high society event. It was the High society event. Her family had never been elite and rich enough to receive an invitation. “I thank you for the invitation,” She bowed her head. “It will be a pleasure to attend.” She paused as she pulled out her phone and stood up. “I must also tell Mother.” And with, she quickly left the room.

Which was much more polite than Chloe who called her mom then and there.

“Mama!” Chloe sang, “Marinette invited us to the Wayne Ball this year!”

“WHAT!” Was heard from the receiver.

Marinette giggled. She ignored the glare Alya sent her.

Rose grasped Juleka’s arm and jumped up and down. “You’re going to the ball. Ahhhh!” She screamed. “What will you wear? Your hair? You have to take pictures.” Rose suddenly reared back and took a deep breath. “You’re going to walk the red carpet.”

“You know, Marinette,” Lila smiled sweetly. “I would be honored to help you navigate the world of a celebrity. The ball will be so stressful. If you needed me there, I’d be happy to attend.”

“No, thank you,” Marinette said. “My siblings have promised to guide me through. It will be a bonding experience.”

Lila forced a smile on her face, “Of course.” She fought the desire to scream and throw a tantrum. How could this happen?

Adrien on the other hand fought to keep the smile on his face. His father would not be pleased. He had instructed Adrien to get close to Marinette, and thus the Wayne family. Adrien hadn’t had the courage to tell his father that they weren’t friends anymore. And that because of the lack of friendship, the Agreste were not invited to the party of the year.

Marinette went to bed that day with a smile on her face. The Christmas season may have started off rocky but it would get better.

Suddenly her phone started buzzing like it was on fire.

The first text she read was from Chloe: You’re dating Roy Queen?!!!!

Marinette’s entirely body froze. Who?

Suddenly, she got another text… From Jason: Hey Baby Bats, I need a favor! Can you fake date my friend Roy. I already told everyone you guys were a thing. Bruce is freaking out! Thanks! Love you.

Her mouth dropped, raged filled her entire body. And then she remembered how she joked with Alya that she wanted a boyfriend last year for Christmas last year.

“FUCK SANTA!”

#ml salt #batfamily #Marinette deserves better #Marienette Dupain Cheng #bruce #bruce wayne #damian wayne #alya salt

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