#yes this is. definitely a skill issue. massive one in fact | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

m1ckeyb3rry · 11 months ago

Text

Pomegranate Ink: XX

Series Synopsis: Unable to heal but willing to fight, with a fiancé in Kyoto and a last name that looms over everything you do, you accept an offer to study at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech. What you did not know was that your salvation and your ruination alike would soon join you at the school, neatly wrapped in the form of a boy followed by death.

Chapter Synopsis: You go on a mission for Gojo.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Yuta Okkotsu × Female Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.9k

Content Warnings: angst, misogyny, naoya zenin, forbidden relationships, canon-typical violence, character death, original characters included

A/N: there’s been too much gojo in pomegranate ink recently but the next few chapters after this one should be the exchange event which means minimal gojo !!

Although you were technically his coworker and equal now, the admiration you held for Kento Nanami had never quite faded. He had even given you his recommendation, so he obviously did not feel like there was a massive gap in your statuses — or, indeed, any gap at all — but that did not change the fact that when you joined Gojo in his office and saw that Nanami was standing there, you immediately straightened your back.

“Nanami, sir, I didn’t realize you’d be here!” you said before turning to Gojo. “And what was that crazy ominous text about, huh?”

“I��m the teacher here, so why am I the one you disrespect so much?” Gojo muttered. You gave him a look, because if you had to list all of the reasons why Gojo didn’t deserve any respect, then you’d be talking for a very long time.

“It’s good to see you again, Y/N. I hope you’ve been doing well,” Nanami said, as polite as ever despite the typical squabble between you and Gojo. “I expect I’m here for much the same reason as you. Although, I’m not quite sure how keen I am on Gojo asking a child to do his dirty work.”

“She’s a Grade 1 sorcerer, the same as you, and you’re the one who recommended her, so why would I treat her as any lesser?” Gojo said. Nanami gave you a sympathetic frown.

“I recommended her because she deserves to be paid more. That’s not a reason for her to be getting jerked around by you and your inane demands,” he said. “She’s still only a second year, so please remember that the next time you ask her about something so serious.”

“What’s going on?” you said. “It’s alright, Nanami, sir. I mean, whatever Gojo’s about to say is definitely going to be something stupid, but I don’t mind helping him out. He’s done so much for me that it’s only fair.”

“Still, you should try to stay out of harm’s way as best as you can,” Nanami said.

“I can use my Reverse Cursed Technique now, so there’s definitely no issue,” you said. “Anyways, Gojo, get on with it. I’ll show you the meme Yuta made for me earlier if you’re quick enough.”

“He’s onto making memes now?” Gojo said in surprise. “That’s big news.”

“I think Toge got him into it,” you said. Gojo thought about this before nodding. It made sense; Toge had been a master with photoshop since birth or something, probably, and he was Yuta’s best friend. It stood to reason that his habits would eventually rub off.

“You’ll definitely have to show me later. I asked you to come here for a reason, though, so we should go over that first. Do you remember what I was telling you earlier, about that special grade curse that performed a Domain Expansion in front of Yuji and I?” he said.

“Yes. It was definitely a worrying thing, especially because Domain Expansions necessitate such a high level of skill. Even sorcerers that can perform them are so rare, which makes it a big problem that there are curses which now can,” you said.

“Exactly. There was recently an incident at a nearby high school that I believe those curses might be involved in, so I’m sending Yuji and Nanami to investigate. I’d go myself, but I have to go on a trip, so I can’t,” Gojo said.

“I don’t recall agreeing to do this,” Nanami interjected. Gojo ignored him; of course, Nanami definitely would go. Even though he was a rule-follower, he didn’t have a great love for the higher ups, and despite his comically constant irritation with Gojo, he also had a lot of faith in the man, which meant he’d begrudgingly oblige his requests, no matter what.

“Why’s that involve me?” you said.

“Originally, I thought about having you take the mission instead of Nanami, since you were a Grade 1 sorcerer who already knew about Yuji’s existence, which would mean one less person would have to find out, but I realized that there was a flaw in that plan: because you’re still a student, the higher ups would definitely be suspicious about that kind of assignment. Even a tiny bit of added scrutiny would be enough for them to pick up on Yuji, and I don’t need to explain to you why that would be disastrous,” he said.

“That’s why you went with Nanami,” you realized. “They don’t really care about him and what he does. Uh, no offense, sir, it’s just that you give off such a stiff vibe that they think you’re firmly on their side, so you’re totally above suspicion when compared to me and Gojo.”

“I understand,” he said. It was something about Nanami which you appreciated, the fact that he didn’t really get upset very easily. He was a relaxed man who was very unflappable, at least as long as Gojo was uninvolved.

“He’s also trustworthy enough to not reveal any details of the mission,” Gojo added. “These are all compliments, Nanami, so you should accept them!”

“Get to the point,” Nanami said. “I see what you want from me, but if you can’t send her on that mission, then why have you called her?”

“Y/N, while Nanami and Yuji are busy investigating that scene, I want you on a different case. You see, a few days ago, a restaurant randomly burst into flames. Although that could be a coincidence, something tells me that there’s more to it. It might even be that same curse from earlier. I want you to see if there’s some kind of greater plot going on here that the curses are working together to achieve, or if it’s just a coincidence that this kind of thing has been happening on such a mass scale recently,” he said.

“Very few things are coincidences,” you said. “Although I do think this one might be. I suppose there is a chance it’s not, though, so sure. I can do that.”

“Hold on a second. You said that that curse could perform a Domain Expansion. What if it pulls that out? Does she have any counter to that?” Nanami said. “If she doesn’t, then it’s totally irresponsible of you to send her. Even more irresponsible than I ever thought you’d be.”

“Um,” Gojo said. “Y/N? Do you have a counter for that?”

“Wow, Gojo,” you said. “I can’t believe you didn’t think of that. Thank you for the concern, Nanami, sir, but as the case may be, I actually do have something I can use if things come to it, so I’ll be alright.”

“If you say so,” Nanami said.

“I knew you’d have a way around it! Or else I wouldn’t have asked you to take the mission in the first place!” Gojo said.

“Oh yeah? What’s my counter, then, huh?” you said. Gojo was oddly quiet for a second.

“I don’t know?” he said finally, voice quiet like a mouse’s instead of boisterous as usual. “I just had faith that you’d figure something or another out. You’re a talented sorcerer, so I had no doubts you’d be alright. Besides, like you said, sorcerers with Domain Expansions are a rarity, so it’s not like I could just find and send someone who can use it to investigate. Even if I could, I wouldn’t trust anyone else the way I trust you, and anyways combat should be your last resort. Avoid it if possible.”

It was very difficult to be angry at Gojo. He looked like a sad, wet cat that had just been sprayed and scolded, pouting slightly, his shoulders slumped. You clicked your tongue before leaning over and hugging him tightly.

“I was only joking. I know you wouldn’t put me in harm’s way if you could help it. I’m a Grade 1 sorcerer now; how could I claim that title if just a Domain Expansion was enough to take me out? You were right to ask me. I’ll take care of things, don’t you worry, and I’ll be back in time to take part in the exchange event, too,” you said.

“For the record, I wasn’t joking,” Nanami said. “But there’s no point in further argument. You’re right about one thing, Gojo, and that’s that there aren’t that many sorcerers around that we can trust. Like it or not, we’ll have to make use of Y/N’s talents.”

“I wouldn’t have asked her if it wasn’t like that,” Gojo said. “That’s the world we’ve been given, though, so we’ll make the best of it. Y/N, I’ll take you out for dinner and shopping once you’re back as a thank you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you said. “But you know I’d never say no to such an offer! You better have that credit card at the ready. I’m taking you up on it for sure.”

“Good,” Gojo said. “I expected no less.”

You were wearing a pair of sunglasses Gojo had lent you as you walked down the street, attempting to look as inconspicuous as possible. You didn’t want to be at all recognizable — not by the curses, who would probably not remember your face even if they saw it, but by anyone related to jujutsu society who might be out and about. If one of your cousins or someone like that saw you, then you’d be in a world of trouble. After all, they’d definitely ask you why you weren’t at the school, and what would you even say to that? You couldn’t exactly tell them that you were on a secret mission for Gojo, so it would be an awkward conversation overall. You had faith in your disguise, though, so there was definitely no issue —

“Hey, Y/N! I wasn’t expecting to see you out here!” a friendly voice said.

You whipped around, trying to discern who it was that had recognized you. The typical culprits were absent — any of your classmates, the third years, your family members, or any of the higher ups. Finally, your eyes lit upon him, beaming and obviously about to say something again, just as loudly as he had the first time.

“Shut up,” you hissed, wrapping your arm around his neck to yank his head down and slapping your hand over his mouth. “I’m supposed to be in disguise right now.”

“Really?” Takuma Ino said, voice muffled by your palm. “You look exactly the same but with sunglasses, though. As far as disguises go, I don’t think it’s that effective.”

“What are you doing here, anyways?” you said, deciding you’d have to reevaluate your disguise at a later moment. Pushing your sunglasses up to rest on the crown of your head, you let go of Ino, who rubbed the back of his neck and readjusted his shirt collar.

“I was planning on going to see a movie at the theater a few blocks down! Do you want to come?” he said. You thought about it for a second. It would be fun, after all — Ino was the kind of person that you couldn’t help liking. He had this unfailing optimism about him that made him a great mission partner, and he also was one of those people that had a moral code they actually followed. Overall, you were definitely really fond of Ino, but you knew you couldn’t take the time off even if you wanted to. Gojo was counting on you.

“I’m sorry, I wish I could. I’m actually busy right now, though,” you said. Ino shrugged.

“No worries,” he said. “I’ll see you around, then! Let’s try to go on a mission together at some point. It’s way better doing stuff with you than it is with most of the other Grade 1 sorcerers. Last time I went, they had me go with Naoya Zenin.”

You winced at the mention of the name alone. “I’m so sorry.”

“It was fine, I guess. He’s just kind of—” Ino leaned in to whisper in your ear “—a douchebag.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” you said with a snort. “Luckily, I haven’t seen him since he was suspended after that mission where he supervised me. Douchebag is the best way to describe him, so don’t think I’ll tell on you for thinking like that.”

“Thanks,” Ino said, clearly relieved. “Anyways, I should go! The movie’s starting soon, and I like watching all the trailers that come before it, so I can’t be late. See you around, Y/N!”

“See you,” you said, waving as he turned the corner. It was a little disappointing. The downside of being a Grade 1 sorcerer: you had even less time to just enjoy your time as a student. Instead of getting to train with your friends and watch movies, you were completing a dangerous mission, with unregistered special grade curses as your opponents. While Ino watched his movie and your classmates prepared with one another for the exchange event, you were conducting a potentially fatal investigation.

At least you got paid way more than the rest of them — bar Yuta, of course, who was rolling in the cash of his special-grade salary. But he was also an entire continent away, so you didn’t envy him too much.

The restaurant that Gojo was talking about was closed off with construction barriers and yellow tape. Fiddling with the pouch of needles you carried with you at all times, you stepped over the tape and around the barriers, closing your eyes and sharpening your cursed signature detection.

The incident had happened a few days ago, so they were incredibly faint, but the residuals were definitely there. Gojo had been right in sending you; the whispering remnants of cursed energy would’ve escaped almost anyone else’s notice. It was only because of your advanced signature perception that you had caught them, and even then, you would’ve missed them if you weren’t looking for them in the first place.

“One — two — three — four,” you counted, crouching before the only seat that wasn’t scorched. For some reason, this residual felt familiar to you, though you couldn’t quite place where you remembered it from. That only made you feel more uneasy; was it a curse you had faced before? Or was it a possibility that someone you knew was working as a curse user alongside the special grade curses?

It couldn’t be anyone too familiar, though. You would’ve known who they were for sure if you had met them more than a few times. Whoever’s residual this was, they were a person you had only encountered once or twice. That didn’t narrow it down any, of course, and indeed it made it more difficult for you to pin down who it could’ve belonged to. How were you supposed to recognize someone you barely knew?

Pulling out your phone, you typed out your findings in a new note. Four residuals at restaurant. Three belonging to curses. One belonging to a curse user. Curse user’s residual is familiar but unidentifiable.

You’d email the entire attachment to Gojo once you were finished with the mission so that he had a frame of reference and some background for when you gave him the official report in person. This way, you’d also be sure to not forget anything, since you were writing it all down as you discovered it.

Leaving the strongest source of the residuals behind, you went over to one of the charred pieces of wood that must’ve once been a chair. When you poked it with your finger, it crumbled away into ash. Your lips tugged downwards into a frown, and you knelt, squinting at it. This was the important part; curses could appear anywhere, but whether they were involved in the disaster was what you were supposed to be investigating.

All residuals told a story. What did these ones have to say? What had happened at this restaurant? Was it something mundane, or was something more sinister at work?

A man set ablaze by something cursed. Flames bursting up at random. People burning. Fire licking throughout the restaurant, stopping at the feet of the three curses and their benefactor and then suddenly extinguishing. The foursome leaving the restaurant with nary their clothes singed.

Gojo was right: it had not been a coincidence. This restaurant had burnt on purpose by what you could only assume was the curse he had met earlier, the fiery one with the head like a volcano. Furthermore, you could sense no other residuals besides the ones left by the group, which meant that the curse had done it for no reason other than because it could.

Naturally, there was no sense in trying to assign meaning to the actions of curses. They were who they were; it was in the character of a curse to destroy, so there wasn’t any morality to it. They weren’t evil out of conscious choice — that was what was intrinsic for them, so that was how they acted. Still, this felt unnecessarily cruel, a display of senseless violence just for violence’s sake.

Fire seems to have been set with malicious intent. No evidence of a struggle. No evidence of a need for self-defense. No evidence of outside intervention via sorcery.

Leaving the restaurant behind, you leaned against the wall, trying to figure out what you should do next. Any residuals that the curses might’ve left as they made their escape would be washed away by now, simply due to the massive traffic in the area, so you couldn’t track them that way. But what other clues did you have about their hiding spots? How else could you observe them? Your findings weren’t anything special, especially without much to substantiate them. They could be put down to the typical behavior of curses, even though you had this sense that something else was at play.

“Honestly,” you said, puffing out your cheeks and letting your sunglasses fall back on the bridge of your nose. “This blows. What am I supposed to do now?”

“You know,” a wheezy voice said from beside you, “I never thought someone as mortal as you would dare stick their nose where it doesn’t belong, but I guess humans really are stupid."

It was like that snake curse of Elakshi’s all over again. You hadn’t even noticed the curse approaching, but here it was, in this deserted alleyway with you, right next to you. It was a grotesque mixture of person and horror, too close to humanity to be dismissed in turn, too close to monstrosity to be given any real sympathy.

As Itadori and Gojo had said, his head resembled a volcano, with one single, huge eye glaring out in front of him. His back was hunched, like he was an elderly man, and he wore a yellow-spotted cape draped over his shoulders. He mirrored your position, making no move to attack you, obviously delighting in the fact that you recognized him.

“You’re the curse that Gojo fought,” you said. The curse spat, his saliva splattering against the concrete and melting it, steam arising from the spots where it had dropped.

“Satoru Gojo,” he snapped. “Yeah, I fought that weakling.”

“Didn’t he beat you? You shouldn’t call him weak. If anyone’s weak, it’s you,” you criticized. This was, in hindsight, not the smartest thing you could’ve done, but you found it a little humorous that this curse really believed Gojo was the weak one between them two.

“What?” the curse said, flames bursting from the openings which must’ve functioned as his ears. You winced, taking a step back from the massive heat suddenly emanating from him. “You think I’m weak? You are nothing compared to Satoru Gojo and I. You could never defeat me, and yet you dare call me weak?”

“How did you know I’d be here?” you said, deciding to get to the point before he began to attack. “You must’ve, or else you wouldn’t have come. I know your hideout isn’t nearby, because I would’ve sensed it, which means that, for some reason, you believed that a sorcerer would come to the scene of your crime. Why? What tipped you off?”

The curse ignored you. “If you think I’m so weak, then fight me yourself! Come on, girl, why don’t you?”

“I’m not in the mood,” you said, eyeing him warily, taking another step back. Gojo had recommended you avoid combat, and you were inclined to agree with him. This did not seem like an ideal matchup for you; this curse, whoever he was, seemed to be the type that was focused on brute strength and sheer power. Furthermore, there was no way you could take him by surprise, and even if you got lucky and managed to land a hit or two, there wasn’t a guarantee that they’d be immediately fatal.

Your best bet would be to escape now, before he could attack you. But where would you go? The alleyway opened up into bustling streets on either side, which meant that you’d be putting civilians at risk if you fled and the curse decided to chase you. The question of where he had come from also remained. Did he have backup? Even now, were there more curses on their way to attack you? Or were the majority of their forces located in that high school where Itadori and Nanami were operating?

“That high school,” you continued in a forced show of bravado. “You’re involved in that, aren’t you? You and the other unregistered special grades. Have you all formed some kind of group?”

“Why should I answer your questions?” the curse shouted, the top of his head emitting wisps of smoke, threatening at an eruption. “You’re a human, so I owe you nothing! I know you’re running because you have no hope of fighting me, but don’t think I’ll let that happen. I’ll kill you before you can take another step!”

“Who are you?” you pressed, ignoring his threats. “Curse, tell me your name. If it makes you feel better, mine is Y/N L/N.”

The curse froze in his tracks, fire abruptly cooling, the air almost chilly in the absence of his furnace-like heat. Then, to your surprise, he took a step backwards, though he still trembled with rage, his single eye narrowed at you. There was a war in that iris, like he could not come to terms with what he had to do.

“Y/N…L/N?” he repeated. You hadn’t been expecting that kind of reaction, but you definitely weren’t complaining.

“Yes,” you said. “And you are? Who do you work for? I know you’re operating alongside at least one curse user. Who are they? I know I recognize their residuals, but I can’t place where from. Who is it? Tell me, now, before I — I call Gojo!”

“Satoru Gojo is abroad,” the curse said. “So don’t think that that kind of threat will work on me. But if you really are Y/N L/N…I’ve heard about you, in fact.”

“From who?” you said, still trying to figure out how he knew Gojo wasn’t in the country. “Who told you about me? Why does it matter who I am? Didn’t you just want to kill me?”

It wasn’t like you wanted him to kill you, but the total flip in his attitude alongside the reluctance with which it had occurred made you mistrustful. Was this a way for him to catch you off guard? If that was the case, then it wasn’t working. You still didn’t believe in him one bit, and you also couldn’t figure out what kind of angle he was playing it. It was totally unbelievable for him to have heard of you — unless he somehow knew about that.

“I’ve been told that you cannot die if we want Sukuna on our side,” the curse said, though his hands twitched, like he wanted to reach out and burn you with them regardless. “If we want him to fight with us, then we cannot kill you.”

“So that’s your goal,” you said. “Or at least one of them: you want to reawaken Sukuna fully. I guess that that’s not too much of a surprise, though I don’t understand what my involvement in the scenario is.”

The curse’s lip curled in disgust. “I don’t, either. You’re just a bag of bones, held together with a minuscule amount of cursed energy. What vested interest does someone like Sukuna have in a weakling like you? Why does it matter that you live? I’d ignore the warning, but last time I did…well. We can’t risk it. Not yet, anyways. Get out of my sight, irritating pest, before I change my mind and decide that killing you and shutting your insufferable mouth is worth risking Sukuna’s aid in our plan!”

“That’s fine by me,” you said. “I’ve found out more than enough. I hope to never see you again, Mount Fuji!”

“Mount Fuji?” the curse screeched after you. You could see the air shimmering around him, a warning of an imminent explosion as you sprinted away. “Be grateful you escaped this time! It won’t be the case if we ever meet again, Y/N L/N!”

With trembling fingers, you finished typing your report on the bus, glancing out the window periodically in case the curse had decided to chase you all of this way. Once it had been formatted and updated with all of your findings, you downloaded it as a PDF and emailed it to Gojo. This was a weight off your shoulders; at least now, even if that curse did come for you, you had managed to get the information to Gojo.

It had been more productive of a mission than you had originally anticipated. Although some of your conclusions were little more than conjecture, only guesses based on offhand comments made by the curse and the more circumstantial evidence, you felt confident about most of it being correct — and you told Gojo as much when you met him next.

“You really think there’s someone leaking our information?” Gojo said. You sighed, swirling a spoonful of sugar into the tea Gojo had offered you. Nanami and Itadori had just returned from their mission, and you were sure that whatever they had discovered would reflect what you had.

“The curse knew that I’d be there, which I suppose you could put down to a lucky guess, but he also knew that you were abroad. There’s no way he could’ve just happened upon such a random explanation; the most likely solution is that someone’s giving them our information. It would also account for why those residuals felt so familiar,” you said.

“Someone in jujutsu society, who you’ve only met once or twice, is working with the curses,” Gojo said, massaging his temples.

“I’d like to say it’s Naoya,” you offered. “Mostly because I hate him and believe that most of the world’s problems can be put upon him. But, unfortunately, I’d have recognized his signature, and anyways he wouldn’t benefit from jujutsu society collapsing, so we can rule him out.”

“I wouldn’t have really suspected him in the first place,” Gojo said. “If I had to guess, it’s someone associated with one of the schools.”

“Another student?” you said. Gojo nodded.

“Or a faculty member, possibly. I doubt that they would be the curse user whose residuals you recognized, but I do think that that’s where that group is getting their information from. I’ll ask Utahime to look into it — I’ve known her since I was young, so I can be reasonably assured that she’s not the one who’s leaking our secrets,” he said.

“Then whose residuals could they be?” you said. Gojo shook his head.

“I don’t know. I hope that, by catching the spy, we can figure that part out,” he said.

“There’s another thing I don’t understand. If the curses are working together to resurrect Sukuna, then why would a sorcerer be working with them? What use would any of the students have with a world where Sukuna reigns once more?” you said.

“Use your imagination, Y/N,” Gojo said. “Think about it. There’s a lot of reasons that people would want to ally themselves with the curses, especially because of how powerful they are. Even if they don’t agree with the final outcome, they might be trying to use the curses’ powers to their own ends.”

“Do they really think that they can deal with curses like that and win?” you said derisively. “It never ends well when sorcerers get involved with curses, especially inexperienced sorcerers, which is what they would be if they’re a student.”

“If they’re inexperienced, then they wouldn’t have the foresight to realize that. Or maybe there’s something they want badly enough that they’ll take the risk,” Gojo said. “There’s a lot of reasons. I can’t be certain, but anyways, I think it’s the most likely explanation. Like I said, we’ll have Utahime help us. She may not excel in strength, but she’s always been the observant type. If anyone can get to the root of things, it’s her.”

“That’s good,” you said. “Yeah, you’re right. There’s not much more we can do. It’s just all so much, and so sudden, too.”

“I’m sorry,” Gojo said. “Thank you for going on that mission. You definitely managed to make the most of it. I’m just glad that you escaped the curse without having to fight. I don’t know how that kind of a confrontation would’ve gone.”

“Probably not well,” you admitted. “He’s not the kind of opponent I’m best suited to face off against.”

“How’d you manage it? You were obviously around him long enough that you could have an entire conversation with him, so how were you able to escape fighting? He was so ill-tempered when we met,” Gojo said.

“Maybe that’s just your personality,” you suggested weakly. You had avoided including that particular detail in your report, mostly because you were still struggling to come to terms with it and what it meant.

“Do you really think so? If that’s the case, then he definitely would’ve fought you, because according to your report, you were just as annoying as I would’ve been in the same situation,” he said.

“No,” you said. “That’s not why. It’s because of Sukuna.”

“Sukuna?” Gojo repeated incredulously. “How’d he end up there?”

“He wasn’t there. Not physically, at least. It’s the same thing from when I went to help Megumi, when Sukuna refused to genuinely, properly fight me. For some reason, my death is something that he wants to avoid, to the point that even that curse believed that killing me would automatically disqualify Sukuna from their list of allies,” you said, and you were surprised to feel your throat swelling, choking with inexplicable tears. “I don’t understand it, Gojo. What does he want from me?”

You buried your face in your hands. You knew it was a little ungrateful — after all, you had the King of Curses supposedly watching over you, his name alone ensuring you did not die, but why did it not feel like a blessing? Why was there no benevolence to it? Why did it frighten you so much?

Sukuna did not care about you. He wasn’t protecting you, necessarily. He was just keeping you around for some greater purpose, one that only he could fathom. That was what you feared. What would Sukuna’s whims cost you? What was it that he was saving you for? What would he do to you once you had fulfilled his wish? Because you knew he hated you. He hated your ancestor, and therefore he hated you, and although there was something blocking him from it, he certainly wished for your death. So what was it that he could possibly want from you above all else? What could he possibly want so much that he would even delay the death he so longed to see for it?

Gojo’s hand was soft atop your head. He did not pat you, nor did he stroke your hair. He just let his hand rest there — it was as much comfort as he knew how to give, after all. This was Gojo at his core: a man who did not really understand how to love someone else. Maybe another person might’ve resented him for it, but it only made you feel fiercely more for him, made you wish you could go back in time to when he had been a child and tell him that one day, he would meet you, someone who’d always love him, no matter what, and that he only had to hold on until such a day could come.

“He wants something only you can give,” Gojo said. “I don’t know what that could be. Sukuna’s never been the kind of person that can be easily understood. It doesn’t make sense to me, either, but that’s how it is.”

“I don’t know, either,” you said. Gojo ruffled your hair before retracting his hand.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to know immediately. But think about it, alright?” he said. “And in the meantime, you might as well enjoy the benefits a little. You can’t escape it, so take advantage of the fact that he’s decided, for some reason or another, that you are important to his plans!”

“Yes,” you said. “You’re right. There’s always a bright side, isn’t there?”

“There you go. Cheer up! Let’s move on to more fun topics. The exchange event is in a couple of days. Aren’t you excited to see everyone again?” Gojo said.

“Not when one of them might be a traitor,” you confessed. Gojo shook his head.

“Don’t think like that. Certainly, you shouldn’t trust anyone with your deepest secrets — except for Yuta — but they are all your friends. You can still be happy to see them. Let Utahime and I deal with the problem of the traitor; you just enjoy yourself at the event, alright?” he said.

“Alright,” you agreed. “And although I agree that he’s definitely not the traitor, why is only Yuta deemed so trustworthy? Why didn’t you include Maki or Tullia on the list?”

“He’s in Africa, so it wouldn’t make any sense for him to be the spy,” Gojo said. “He’d be an awful source of information, since he pretty much…has none at the moment. We have to suspect basically everyone else, even though you’re right in thinking that it’s unlikely for either of those two to be spies.”

“I see,” you said. “I guess there’s nothing to be done about it now, is there? This is what it’ll be like until we can catch the spy.”

“I’m afraid it is,” Gojo said sympathetically. “Hey. Wanna go get ice cream with me?”

“You just got back from your trip, didn’t you? I don’t want to make you go out if you’re tired,” you said. Gojo had insisted on meeting with you the instant he had returned from the airport, and though he had done an admirable job at hiding it, you knew he was still exhausted. Still, he shook his head.

“Nah, I was going to go either way. It’ll just make me less lonely if you come along, too,” he said, standing up and pulling you to your feet. “Come on, it’ll be fun!”

You laughed softly. “You know, Gojo, sometimes I think you’re not that bad.”

“Hey, thanks! Anyways, I’m thinking of trying a new flavor, but I’m not sure if I’ll like it. Do you promise to finish it for me if I don’t?” he said.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever. You have to pay for it, though,” you said.

“Pinky swear?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

#yuuta x reader #yuuta x y/n #yuuta x you #reader insert #canon au #pomegranate ink #m1ckeyb3rry writes

21 notes · View notes

obliqueblade · 1 year ago

Text

DDVAU- Chapter 2: You're a real Hero

Cute Guy’s POV

Cute Guy was sure Hot Guy had a death wish. The proof of this statement?

He had absolutely no survival skills. Truly it was a miracle he had lived as long as he had. If Cute Guy had the time, she’d spend weeks researching just how in the world Hot Guy had managed to keep himself alive. Honestly, though, even if they did have the time, Cute Guy was not sure if the possibility of Hot Guy having clones was low enough for them to feel comfortable running the experiment. Knowing Cute Guy's luck, that would be the case, and that was frankly a world too horrifying to imagine. One was enough to give Cute Guy nightmares, there was no need to bring more into the case.

“Hot Guy! Are you immune to instinct or just that crazy,” Cute Guy yelled sitting up on top of Hot Guy. Why on top? Well, circle back to ‘Hot Guy had no survival instincts’ and as a result must be tackled sometimes out of danger. Now would it have been possible for her to keep them safe without having to tackle them out of the way?

Potentially, yes, but that was not the point.

Cute Guy is now sitting on top of Hot Guy. No, she wasn’t… stuck on that fact, it just happened to be the truth. Nothing more to note. Most certainly not something that was taking up a decent portion of her attention. Nope, not even with him smirking up at him, with strands of his brown hair escaping the tie at the base of his neck.

She rolled her eyes as Hot Guy stared up dazedly, before moving to get off. As adorable as Hot Guy could be, Cute Guy was not really looking for another photo op from the press. She had been made fun of enough for the first time, and while Hot Guy most definitely got into more heat for it, Cute Guy could not allow his flock any more ammo against them. He could already hear the chortling of Mumbos laugh now.

Although, the first one had been extremely cute, and Hot Guy was extremely fun to mess with, seeing as how easy it was to turn his cheeks red-

Shaking his head, Cute Guy banished that thought.

Nope, nope, nope. His heart was already spoken for, and besides, she wouldn’t be like those fans who couldn’t separate the person from the job. Nope, she liked their tentative partnership as it was, and did not need to make it any more difficult later. They could stick with this casual flirting and nothing more for the foreseeable future.

“Hey, I’ll have you know I’ve never had any issues before you started joining me,” Hot Guy stated playfully throwing a hand up to be lifted off the ground. Cute Guy smiled, grabbing hold of the hold and lifting him before pulling his face closer in the same movement. Hot Guy’s eyes darted back and forth between Cute Guy's eyes and his mouth, Cute Guy noticed.

“Are you saying you get distracted by me, Mr. Hero?” she asked tilting her head, letting her pink wings lift her up to get closer to Hot Guy’s now burning face. Hot Guy’s eyes darted wildly as he blinked up at her.

“Umm,” Hot Guy started eloquently before Cute Guy laughed releasing his hand and moving back. Maybe the reason Hot Guy had survived as long as he had was just due to the fact that he was adorable.

“It’s okay Mr. Hero, I am Cute after all,” she giggled and winked behind her heart-shaped glasses before turning away and back down the alley ignoring the sputtering frozen hero. As adorable as he was though, Cute Guy was determined to continue to mess with him. Balance the universe and all that.

Originally, Cute Guy had been handling the massive mobs appearing in Upper City on her own, before Hot Guy appeared claiming he was there to help. As adorable as it was, the ‘help’ seemed to come from Cute Guy making sure the hero didn’t get them both blown up. If Cute Guy had not already despised the Hero Association, she would definitely be questioning their judgment in not only allowing Hot Guy to be a hero, but the number 1 hero.

“Hot Guy, are you really meant to be helping right now or did you just miss me?” she called back while aiming one of her pistols at the creeper that had steadily been making its way toward the two.

“Can’t it be a bit of both?”

Cute Guy rolled their eyes before turning and firing at another creeper further down the alley. As cute as it was, the situation was less than ideal. Creepers were best fought from a long distance, or at least in the open. It was bugging Cute Guy slightly though, that rather than perch somewhere and shoot down into the alley where it would be safer for Hot Guy, the hero had decided to march straight into the alley. There were a few reasons that they could have decided to do this, the least likely is that he wasn’t aware of what creepers did. It was basic knowledge that creepers exploded if you got too close and as self-destructive as the hero had proven numerous times over the years, he wasn’t that dense. So then why?

The alley that the two had found themselves in was dangerous. Long, narrow, and with a dead end right behind them. If they weren’t careful they could get boxed in and cause an explosion. An explosion with this many structures around, so closely packed together would cause major destruction in the nearby areas. Cute Guy could only hope that there were some heroes nearby who had evacuated the nearby citizens.

“Well, Mr. Helpful, unless you can figure a way to get out of this alley you’re not going to be much helpful to anyone,” Cute Guy pointed out gesturing to the four more creepers that had started their way. Hot Guy smirked pulling an arrow from his quiver and aiming down the alley.

“Oh please, I’ve got this,” Hot Guy stated assuredly before firing down the alley, hitting one of the creepers. Dropping his bow slightly he turned his head to wink up at Cute Guy.

“See, totally hande-”

“Get down!” Cute Guy yelled lunging at him and pulling him back just as the creeper exploded. The blast sent Hot Guy and Cute Guy hurtling down the alley. Immediately, Cute Guy's back erupted in pain, burns scouring up his back and shoulders. Wincing as the blast ripped several feathers out of place, and searing the rest. Hot Guy slammed into the dead-end wall hard, and Cute Guy grimaced at the sound of the impact.

Behind the buildings croaked ominously, as a deep rumbling began behind Cute Guy. Hesitantly, Cute Guy spared a glance back as the buildings' groaning increased. Alarmed, Cute Guy raised their wings, wrapping their arms tighter around the dazed Hero. Ignoring the immense pain that shot through her wings as she did so, Cute Guy pulled Hot Guy close and began to shakily fly up to get out of the fallout area. If they stayed where they were, they’d be crushed to death. Wouldn’t exactly be their finest moments, though Cute Guy wasn’t sure if it would breach Hot Guys 10 ten ‘not finest moments’.

If Cute Guy allowed herself to go out that pathetically, she’d never hear the end of it.

With every flap of her wings though, they seemed to grow more and more unsteady and weak. There was no doubt that straining them as much as she was was only going to worsen them in the long run, she pushed the thought aside. Right now, this was their only way of escape. Focusing her gaze entirely on the sky above thorough, Cute Guy resolved to ignore the pain. Hot Guy stirred slightly in his arms, and if Cute Guy had any faith in the Old Gods, she might have sent a prayer begging that the hero remain still until they could get out.

But she knew better than to rely on them.

Pieces of the buildings began to rain down, and Cute Guy groaned at the extra strain of having to dodge the crumbling projectiles. Quickly dodging left, Cute Guy focused entirely on plotting a course safely out of the debris field. Carrying the unconscious hero, and trying to navigate the now extremely hostile environment was proving more challenging than Cute Guy had wanted the day to go. Ducking underneath a rather large part of the building, Cute Guy's eyes widened as they realized they were running out of places they could go, more and more of the building pieces were falling in larger sections.

Glancing down ensuring the hero was still in fact unconscious, Cute Guy weighed the odds. As the pieces grew closer, though Cute Guy knew there was no other choice. While risking their own life was something they had no qualms doing, they wouldn’t risk Hot Guy’s.

Closing his eyes momentarily, Cute Guy reached deep within himself tugging at one of the numerous threads within him. Threads that she hated, and suppressed more than anything, no matter how much they demanded to be seen. To be used. Opening his eyes, he was thankful for the pink-tinted glasses that hid his eyes. He knew it would be obvious up close, and the eerie purple glow she knew her eyes were giving off would raise alarms within the Hero Association.

Alarms that Cute Guy would rather they not be aware of.

Without loosening her grip on Hot Guy, Cute Guy glared at the falling pieces, slightly pushing them away to create a wide enough gap for Cute Guy to shoot the two of them through while bringing her wings close to her body. They shot through the gap, clearing all the debris as they did. Relaxing slightly, Cute Guy aimed them to the closest stable rooftop preparing for a nasty landing. As they crashed into the roof, the grasp Cute Guy had on Hot Guy loosened and the hero went rolling several more yards in front of Cute Guy before coming to a stop, still unmoving. The hero's back was to her, and Cute Guy ignored the many doubtless scrapes now littering her elbows and knees.

Cute Guy herself raised herself to her hands and knees, finally suppressing the powers within herself, before raising her head to check on the hero. Shaking her head and determinedly not checking on her wings, Cute Guy crawled over to the hero to ensure he was still breathing. Rolling him over from his side to his back, Cute Guy placed two fingers on his neck, only relaxing when his pulse still beat strongly.

Letting out a breath, Cute Guy didn’t realize she was holding, she sat back on her haunches and stared up at the sky. Relaxing his wings, proved to not help all that much, but still Cute Guy refused to check. Knowing nothing good would await them by looking, they were more worried about how Jimmy was going to react to his wings. That would not be a pleasant welcome home.

“Ughhh,” Hot Guy groaned intelligently, raising his hand to his head before squinting one of his eyes open.

Cute Guy stared down at him, unimpressed.

“So in my defense, I did not know that they could do that,” Hot Guy defended covering his eyes with his arm. Cute Guy almost wanted to laugh at how quickly the hero knew why the stare had been leveled at him, but more than anything Cute Guy was glad the hero didn’t seem to have sustained any brain damage. No more than he already had at least.

Instead of issuing a response, Cute Guy just laid down on her stomach next to the hero.

“Can’t exactly fault you for not knowing. It’s a new “feature” they added to them in the Lower City.” Cute Guy mumbled, angrily remembering how only a few short months prior the newer versions had emerged. Countless citizens had died before people had figured out how they were different from the original, and even then the destruction they had caused was limitless.

Immediately, Hot Guy shot up, “What do you mean a “new feature? How do you even know they’re in Lower City?”

Dumbfounded, Cute Guy stared over at the hero.

“What part of avian did you miss? Of course, I know what happens in the lower city.” Cute Guy started plainly. And to be fair, what kind of question was that? All hybrids, at least with the hero's knowledge were on the other side of the wall. Cute Guy should be the only exception to that rule that Hot Guy would know about. Hot Guy fixed him with his own unimpressed stare.

“Well, obviously, I know that, but how do you know like recent stuff, if you’re on this side of the wall? You’d be seen immediately if you were crossing the walls repeatedly.”

Cute Guy only laughed, before sitting up themselves. Of course, that was the theory the Hero Association had come up with to explain how Cute Guy was getting into the city. At least that meant that her secret was still safe.

“Well I obviously don’t cross every day, that would be a lot of traveling, but I have my ways to get back and forth, Ways I’m afraid, Mr. Hero, I will not be sharing right now.” Cute Guy explained laughing slightly. No doubt whatever Cute Guy told Hot Guy would make its way back to the Hero Association. While they would no doubt eventually uncover her identity, Cute Guy wanted to cause them a bit more trouble before then. She, after all, still had work to do.

“As for your second point, there have always been new features added to the mobs on the other side of the wall. Upper City has just gotten lucky it has such a … dedicated Hero Association to protect them,” Cute Guy practically spat out. Hot Guy winced at the clear hatred in the vigilante's voice, and Cute Guy almost felt guilty. It really wasn’t Hot Guy’s fault what the Hero Association had done, and he had no real way of knowing regardless. Still, sometimes her resentment leaked through that understanding.

“You really don’t like the Hero Association do you?” Hot Guy asked hesitantly.

“It’s a mutual thing” Cute Guy answered immediately, not fully ready to delve into just how they mutually hated one another. Sparing a glance over at the hero though, Cute Guy quickly added, “You’re not too bad though,”.

Immediately, the hero brightened at the compliment.

“Awee see I knew you liked me!” Hot Guy exclaimed lunging at the vigilante, throwing his arms around them to pull them into a tight embrace.

As the hero's hands brushed over his wings and back, Cute Guy let out an involuntary yelp as the pain seared through him once again. They had almost been able to forget about the burns and feathers she had gained during the explosion. Hot Guy immediately jerked back, rescue mode engaging, before turning the vigilante slightly to inspect why she had yelped in pain.

Cute Guy watched Hot Guy’s face drop as he inspected what was doubt a gnarly sight. Belatedly, Cute Guy wondered if she should have just left immediately after ensuring the hero was in fact alive.

“That bad huh?”

At the question, Hot Guy’s eyes darted to Cute Guy's face, and even behind the tinted visor, Cute Guy could see the guilt and worry in his gaze. Brushing the hands off of her shoulders, Cute Guy rose to her feet.

“Wait, Cute Guy, we need you to get you to a -” Hot Guy started, scrambling to his feet to chase after the retreating vigilante. Before he could continue though, Cute Guy cut him off.

“To where? A hospital? There’s no hospital in this entire city that would treat a hybrid. There are too few hospitals on the other side of the wall, with far too few supplies for me to justify going there either. So no, Mr. Hero, this is where I bid you adieu,” while it wasn’t fair to snap at the hero about the situation the world was in, Cute Guy couldn’t help the remark.

“But it’s my fault! Please, I know someone who could help you. They won’t ask any questions,” Hot Guy pressed, still following her as she walked toward the edge of the roof. Guilt raced through her as she regretted the comment. Maybe they wouldn’t, but there was no doubt that the Hero Association would be watching the both of them extremely closely. While they wouldn’t be able to harm Hot Guy, associates wouldn’t have the same luxury. They’d use them as a bargaining chip, and when the deal went through they would kill them regardless. Cute Guy just couldn’t justify that risk, not to one of Hot Guy's friends.

Sighing, Cute Guy sighed before turning her head to stare at the hero.

“Hot Guy, it’s fine. It wasn’t your fault, I made the decision to pull you out of the blast range. I know it looks bad, but it’ll heal up in no time.” Cute Guy assured before turning back to face the roof's edge, reading herself to raise her wings and attempt to fly. The pain reared its ugly head once more, but Cute Guy held in her wince, not wanting to give the hero any more reason to worry.

“But if I can at least help,” Hot Guy kept up, grabbing onto Cute Guy's pink cropped sweatshirt sleeve. Cute Guy had to admit, that while she admired his spirit, he was almost as stubborn as she was.

“But nothing Hot Guy. I know the Hero Association is watching you, and I don’t want to put you in a difficult spot,” Cute Guy replied, prying the hero's hand off of her sleeve, before lifting herself into the air and out of reach.

“I would never turn you into them,”

Surprised, Cute Guy spun in the air to face the hero.

Hot Guy stared up at her, defiance in his eyes. Smiling slightly at the sight, Cute Guy turned away once more. It was that very fire that had pushed Cute Guy to act now of all times.

“I knew you were a true hero,” she said softly before launching herself further into the sky and away from the stunned hero.

Flapping her wings and going as fast as she dared, she raced through the sky at near-breakneck speeds, unsure of just how long her wings would be able to maintain their weight. She knew she had to make it to one of the passageways to Mumbos before they did so.

Still though, despite the pain of the day, Cute Guy was glad to have run into Hot Guy.

Mumbo and Jimmy, however, might have different ideas about it though.

Sighing as one of the alleys that held a passageway came into view, Cute Guy resolved themself to no doubt an endless bereavement from the two about her recklessness. It would be a difficult night for all of them, and the next day of work wasn’t going to be any more promising either.

It was a lecture he was used to hearing at least.

15 notes · View notes

healinghyunjin · 3 years ago

Text

Ritual

Pairing: Lee Minho x Reader (fem)

Genre: smut, romance, angst, fluff; oneshot; historical!AU, magical!realism (?), soulmates! (you’ll see...), Deus Sex Machina; 18+

Word Count: 11.3k

Warnings: swearing, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, outdated gender and sexual norms/attitudes, sex as ritual.

Author’s Note: Alright, everyone - the premise for this fic needs some serious backstory, so here we are. Back in simpler times, I was a huge Classics nerd, and one man whose work you can’t escape in Classics is Herodotus, the “father” of Western history. One of his anecdotes that I found fascinating is a tale about a supposed ancient Babylonian religious custom - where every woman is required, at least once in her life, to have sex with a stranger in the name of the Goddess of Love. Historicity aside, I’ve always wanted to use this as a trope (of course, with modifications to deal with issues like consent and power differentials); that’s what I’ve done here, but with a twist…

I definitely played fast and loose with mashing together ancient Greek and Roman traditions here (yes, the Greeks did have gongs!) - so history nerds, don’t come at me!!

I owe massive, immense, unfathomable amounts of thanks and gratitude to @sunnyville36 - Ray, if it hadn’t been for you, this fic would have been languishing in my drafts, uninspired and unfinished. Thank you so much for your thoughtful feedback, your genius brainstorming skills, and for all the compliments I don’t deserve 💕💕💕 Can’t wait for you to bless us with more of your writing!!

As usual - reblogs, engagement, and feedback are desperately desired and always appreciated!!

Summary: “Your lover, the person you’re going to meet...it is said that the Goddess puts them in your path – that the two of you will be bound together by threads of passion woven by Mylitta herself.”

Cold.

That was the first thought that popped into Minho’s head as he slowly faded back into consciousness. It was cold, goosebump-inducingly so, and he could swear it hadn’t been like this when he went to sleep. In fact, he remembered being exceptionally warm, cozy even, all wrapped up under the thick blankets with –

His eyes snapped open.

You.

Minho sat up abruptly, the sleep fleeing from his eyes as he realized the bed was empty. You, your clothes, your jewelry: every sign of you was gone. The only proof that Minho hadn’t just dreamed you up was the crushed jasmine strewn across the pillow, giving off a faint fragrance – your fragrance.

Minho’s eyes fluttered shut as the scent threw him back into his hazy recollections of the night before. He’d been completely sober; it wasn’t alcohol that had thrown his mind into a fog – it was you. Your soft gasps and whimpers, your hands scrabbling against his shoulders as he’d tortured you into pleasure; your messy, wild hair, tangled up in his fingers as he’d slammed his hips into yours; your skin, tasting of wet salt as he’d gently kissed your tears of exhaustion away, cradling you in his arms like a baby.

Minho felt raw in his need for you. He needed to feel your skin against his again, to hear your soft voice whispering into his ears, to feel your fingers entwined with his. He wasn’t sure how all of this could have happened in just one night – but it had. It was something fit for one of those weepy tragic romances: a man falls in love with a mysterious, ephemeral woman over the course of one mystical night, only to lose his mind desperately searching for her.

As cliché as it might be though, he knew, deep within him, that what the two of you had shared was something truly special.

Minho fumed at himself as he hastily pulled his clothes back on. That smug old priest had been right. Minho had been incredibly laid-back when he’d walked into the temple yesterday, sure of what was going to happen – he’d just have a quick, enjoyable fuck with the first person to catch his eye and be merrily on his way afterwards. The head priest had taken one look at him and done his best to set him straight, but to no avail.

“Your lover, the person you’re going to meet,” he’d said, fixing Minho with a piercing stare. “It is said that the Goddess puts them in your path – that the two of you will be bound together by threads of passion woven by Mylitta herself.”

Yesterday, Minho had internally – perhaps even externally – scoffed at his words. But now… Minho found himself wondering if the priest had known something he didn’t – if the Goddess had indeed woven some web of magic around the two of you.

Whatever it was, he knew he couldn’t just move on from what had happened. The only thing he could do was to seek you out and lay himself bare in front of you – and hope you wouldn’t break his heart.

He needed to find you.

The various attendants and priestlings scattered throughout the grounds stopped and stared as Minho sprinted up the steps of the temple, weaving between stone columns as he dashed towards the main sanctuary. He needed to find the old priest from yesterday; he was the only one who’d seen the two of you together – and he was the only one who could possibly have answers.

Minho found the man exactly where he’d first seen him yesterday, standing in the front portico of the temple. At the sound of Minho’s hurried footsteps, the priest turned, looking back at Minho with a curious glint in his wise eyes.

“Ah, my boy,” the priest studied him as Minho paused to catch his breath, an inscrutable smile on the old man’s wrinkled face. “You’ve already discharged your duty to the Goddess. You’re free to go.”

“Father, I – I...” Minho faltered, not knowing how to explain himself to the man – or make up for his attitude from yesterday. “I woke up to find that the girl I was... with last night was gone, and I was hoping you might have seen her this morning.”

Reaching out, Minho clasped the priest’s hands in supplication, trying to show him just how serious he was. “I need to talk to her again.”

The priest’s eyes saddened as he gazed back at Minho, taking in the vulnerability, the sincerity radiating from the younger man’s eyes. “My son, I’m… I’m sorry to say that I have not.”

Minho’s heart dropped. He’d hoped against hope that you’d just left the room, not the temple itself. Now, he’d have to cast his net much wider – to the entire neighborhood, to the entire town even.

Studying the crestfallen expression on Minho’s face, the priest stepped forward, placing a heavy hand on Minho’s shoulder. “I’m sure she’s not far away, my boy,” his voice carrying significantly more conviction than Minho felt at the moment. “Just keep looking around you, and I’m sure you will find her.”

Offering up a weak smile in response, Minho bowed to the priest, thanking him before quickly leaving the temple. Time was of the utmost essence – he needed to get to you, find you before you made it too far.

While it was blasphemous, even unlawful to admit – Minho had never particularly been a religious man. Even with this ritual, he’d come to the temple yesterday to fulfill an obligation, not out of any faith or true belief on his part.

Now however, against everything he’d once stood for, Minho found himself whispering a fervent prayer to Mylitta.

My lady… you brought her into my arms once. So please… please bring her back to me again.

You waited with bated breath, refusing to watch as Minho turned away, his footsteps forlorn as he stumbled down the steps of the temple. Your hiding spot, crouched down and tucked away behind a pillar, was cramped, and your muscles, torn to shreds from your activities last night, were screaming for relief.

You didn’t let yourself dwell back on those memories, pointedly ignoring the twinge in between your legs at the thought of last night. You couldn’t afford to crack.

Once you were positive that Minho was gone, you slowly crawled out of your hiding spot – only to find yourself at the feet of the old priest.

“My daughter…”

“Father.” You hurriedly interrupted him, knowing exactly what he’d want to say to you. “Thank you for… covering for me.” You bowed your head, filled with a rising sense of shame. As if giving into your own temptations wasn’t enough, you’d coerced the head priest himself into lying for you.

“I s-should go, I have duties to attend to,” you muttered, desperate to get away from him, to nurse your wounded heart and mind in private.

As you turned to flee, you felt a warm touch on your shoulder. You looked back to find the old man gazing down at you. “You’re one of my own, child – I will do what you ask of me.”

“But...” he trailed off, giving you a gentle smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “If I may say something though… my girl, why don’t you reveal yourself to him? He may be hot-blooded and a little brash, but Minho is a good, honorable boy – and he seems to care for you quite a bit.”

The priest pushed on, trying to convince you. “He will do the right thing by you – and no family will turn down a novice priestess of Mylitta herself as a bride.”

“And that’s exactly why.” You shook your head decisively, gently moving away from the old priest’s comforting hand. “If I reach out to him now… if I reveal myself to him, he’ll act impulsively. It isn’t ‘the right thing’ if he’s just infatuated with me, Father.

You clenched your hands together in front of you, trying to get rid of your nervous energy. “His feelings... it’s all just lust,” you muttered, trying your best to convince yourself as much as the man in front of you. “It’s just lust, the aftereffects of the Goddess and her ritual. In a few days, he’ll forget all about me – and I’ll forget all about him.”

And with that, you slunk away from the old man, desperate to be alone.

You ducked into the inner sanctum, where the statue of Mylitta resided – a place where you knew for sure no one would bother you now.

As you entered, you came face-to-face with the Goddess herself, her beauty immortalized in stone. You couldn’t peel your gaze away from her calm expression, shining with such serenity – in sharp contrast to the emotions raging within you. You’d spent the last night in service of her, honoring her with your body, with your very soul. Wasn’t it now her duty to give you answers? To heal your aching heart?

Letting your legs give out under you, you closed your eyes, resting your head on the cool marble of the Goddess’ feet. You’d let yourself slip once – given into one moment of weakness – but you were afraid that you’d made a mistake there was no turning back from.

The night before...

You hummed quietly to yourself as you walked out of the sanctum. Your footsteps, weighed down by the heavy tray of offerings, resounded through the empty temple. You’d had a much longer, busier day than usual; it was the full moon, and the festival celebrating the Goddess’ holiest day of the month had just come to an end. Thankfully, you were almost done with your tasks for the day – well, night at this point – and you were eager to escape back to your little cot, to have at least some time to yourself before sleeping and waking up to do it all over again.

As the temple’s youngest novice, you were often tasked with the most menial jobs at hand around the temple – cleaning, fetching things, running errands. It was surprisingly arduous work, physically tiring to a level that you hadn’t anticipated when you’d first arrived at the temple. But you knew you shouldn’t complain; you should be grateful that you even had food in your belly, a roof over your head – that the temple had taken you in, that you were still alive.

As you stepped out into the fragrant night air of the temple gardens, you caught sight of your reflection in the holy pool. Inching closer, you stopped for a second, studying your appearance. Weariness had sapped the vibrance out of your skin, painted shadows under your eyes. Even your festival finery couldn’t hide the tiredness, the exhaustion that seemed to seep from your pores.

You looked nothing like the spoiled, rich brat you’d been just a short while ago, before your world had come crashing down around you. Before you’d had to flee your burning home in the dead of the night, before you’d desperately ran to this temple, clutching a mysterious note promising safe harbor, sanctuary and anonymity.

Now, all of these months later, you thought you were doing…alright here. Life was not very exciting – and more than a little lonely. But you kept busy, and you had some type of purpose here. That was enough for now. It had to be.

You were just locking the door of the storage room behind you, finally done for the evening, when you heard the soft echoes of voices: the immediately recognizable, gravelly tones of the old head priest, mixed in with an unfamiliar tenor – the voice of a young man.

Who could it be?

You ducked behind a pillar, sliding out of view as you wracked your head for ideas, thinking about who it could be, who could even have a reason to be at the temple this late. It only took a few seconds before the answer popped into your head.

Lee Minho.

A stranger, a man you only knew by name – and the star of the last important event of the night. As the moon rose into the night sky, you realized that, in your rush to complete your tasks, you’d forgotten that it was almost time for the festival’s climax – the ritual.

You flushed at the thought of what the job actually entailed. Minho would be taken to the temple garden, left to wait by the holy pool under the moonlight, where any stranger - any man or woman eager to experience a night with the Goddess’s chosen one - could sneak into the garden and proposition him. Minho could choose any one of them he wanted to spend the rest of the night with, duty-bound to pleasure them as thoroughly as if they were the Goddess herself. After all, what better way to worship the Goddess of Love… than making love?

While these rituals were a regular occurrence at the temple – you’d already seen several in your time here – it was the first time that you’d been involved in the process. For some reason, the head priest had been oddly insistent that you should be the one to divine on behalf of the Goddess this time – that it should be your hand that drew the name of the man the Goddess wanted for this month’s festival. When you’d pulled the name Lee Minho out of the golden chalice, the priest had fixed you with an enigmatic smile. “So be it,” he’d whispered, waving his hand over the piece of paper clasped in your palm before calling out to the heralds, signaling that it was time to make the announcement.

Thinking back on the strangeness of it all, you suddenly found yourself seized by some powerful, all-consuming curiosity. Who was this man? You needed to find out.

Finding a suitable hiding spot, you situated yourself so you were hidden from sight by a pillar, but could still peek around when the two men passed by on their way to the garden. As you listened, hearing the voices come closer and closer, you felt butterflies stirring in your stomach, a sense of nervous anticipation settling over you – and you had no clue why.

You didn’t have to wait long for the men to pass by. As they approached your pillar, faces visible in the bright torchlight of the temple passage, you stealthily peeked out, angling to see if you could get a good glimpse.

And when your eyes finally landed on him, a small gasp escaped from your lips – a veritable inferno of desire burning through your veins.

Lee Minho looked as if Mylitta herself had crafted every detail of his face: his large, cat-like eyes; his sharp, defined nose; his pouty lips; his strong jawline. You’d never seen a man so beautiful, so alluring before in your life – and it was almost painful to behold him.

You tore your eyes away from him with difficulty, clutching your chest and breathing heavily as you braced your back against the cool stone pillar. You were on fire, as if the searing heat of one of Eros’ arrows had scorched its way through your heart. You looked up to find that you were facing the door to the inner sanctum, still open just a crack – and were looking right into the painted eyes of Mylitta herself. If you weren’t imagining it… it almost seemed like her expression now had a hint of coyness, her lips quirked in just a hint of a smirk. Could it be…?

You shook your head, slapping yourself out of your daze – and as you’d expected, the statue now looked perfectly normal, not a paint chip out of place.

But…could it have been a sign? Your reaction to Minho was so painfully, powerfully visceral that it seemed superhuman – something that couldn’t have come just from within you. Even now, you were still melting, your senses ablaze with…lust? Infatuation? Love?

You didn’t know, and you didn’t care. In that moment, all you knew was that you had to act on these feelings somehow – before the flames of emotion consumed you instead.

The ritual.

It was perfect, so perfect that you again questioned if something mysterious, something preternatural wasn’t at play here. But it didn’t matter.

Your cheeks burned at the thought of being so bold, so forward – but your legs were already moving, your heart moving faster than your mind.

Slipping back around to the temple pool, you quickly splashed some water on your face, your chest, your arms – hopefully enough to be clean and presentable. You were about to leave when you caught sight of a jasmine garland, resting on the stone edge of the pool; you’d probably dropped it in your haste to clean up earlier. Tempted by its beauty, you quickly wove the flowers into your hair, allowing their sweet, seductive fragrance to intoxicate your senses, before tiptoeing back into the temple.

You were just about to run down the steps, bound out into the garden in pursuit of Minho when you heard the sound of heavy footsteps, walking slowly up to you.

“Forgetting something, my child?” Oh Hades, you cursed to yourself, turning guiltily around to face… the head priest.

To your surprise however, there was no judgment or anger in his expression. Instead, the old man’s face was wrinkled with a knowing smile, and his hand was outstretched to you, containing a single golden coin.

You almost facepalmed in exasperation. In your haste, you’d forgotten one of the most basic parts of the ritual – the coin that you needed to make your offer to Minho. You hesitated, not knowing whether you should take it or not, when the sound of a booming laugh startled you.

“Child, don’t be so nervous – I’m not angry with you. There were days, my girl, when the priestesses of this temple were the ones charged with carrying out this ritual, so it is nothing improper. And besides, you have not yet pledged yourself to the temple, or to the goddess. You are free to pursue whatever – or whomever – you want.”

The old man gently took your hand and pressed the coin into your palm. “Go on, my daughter. But make sure of one thing – don’t close your eyes to the will of the Goddess.” And with that cryptic announcement, he walked away, a dramatic swish of finality to his robes as he left you alone on the steps of the temple.

Normally, you might have written him off, thinking that Mylitta’s mythos might have gone to his head a bit too much. But this time… given the strange events of the evening, that inexorable pull you felt to the man waiting – for you, it almost seemed – in the garden: you thought you needed to give his words some weight.

And an answering sixth sense, a feeling deep in your gut told you that you were right to do so.

You found Minho sitting on the ruined stone wall by the pool, just beyond the entrance of the garden. He didn’t appear to register your presence as you walked closer, seemingly lost in thought as he skipped rocks into the water. You heaved a sigh of relief, footsteps growing bolder as you crept closer and closer to him.

“You’re early.” The sudden sound of his voice startled you, and you pulled up short as Minho stood up, dusting his pants off before standing to face you.

From up close, Minho was just as stunning as he’d been from behind that pillar, if not more. His eyes fairly sparkled with curiosity, a mischievous glint coloring them as he gazed down at you.

“This must be some new type of record; I’ve barely been here for five minutes,” he laughed. You would have taken him to be arrogant, full of himself – not without reason, you supposed – if it hadn’t been for a teasing look in his eyes, the conspiratorial smile he immediately followed it up with.

He was messing with you – and you found that you liked that.

“I couldn’t help but run after you,” you admitted, deciding to be fully honest with him, given whatever strangeness was throwing you two together.

Minho blinked in confusion, almost cat-like in manner, for just a second before his features smoothed out, his lips curling into a small, but genuine smile.

“And I’m glad you did,” he murmured, his head tilting to regard you with newfound interest, curiosity in his eyes.

Well, it was now or never.

You stretched your hand out to Minho, doing everything in your power to keep it from wavering.

“I invite you in the name of Mylitta… if you’ll have me,” you finished lamely, cringing at yourself immediately afterwards.

To your surprise, it only took Minho a moment to respond with a warm smile, seeming to find you cute rather than cringeworthy. “Don’t be embarrassed – I appreciate the consideration,” he finished with a soft laugh. “I accept.”

As his fingers grazed your palm, reaching for the coin, you felt sparks erupting at his touch – shooting down your palm, heating up your entire body. Lifting your eyes up to Minho’s face, you watched as his eyebrows arched in surprise, redness slowly suffusing his earlobes, his cheeks – you clearly weren’t the only one who felt it.

The two of you stared at each other for a few seconds, sensing the atmosphere around the two of you shift from the casual, easy chemistry of a few moments ago to…something charged. Something deeper, with more promise.

Minho was first to snap out of the daze. Gazing down at you with an unreadable expression – his eyes appearing almost magnetic with their intensity, with the dark whirls of emotion that had seeped into them – he tightly wrapped his fingers around yours, the added contact rendering the two of you breathless.

Squeezing your hand to his side, he tugged you along behind him, back onto the path to the temple. “Follow me… my lady.”

The two of you entered the sacred chamber to the sound of the old bronze gong ringing, announcing to the townspeople that the festival had concluded, the ritual had begun – and any stragglers were out of luck.

The door slamming closed behind the two of you with a strange sense of finality, you observed that the slightest bit of stiffness had entered Minho’s demeanor. Clearing his throat with a soft “ahem,” he carefully brushed past you, taking off his cloak and bundling it up before reaching down to untie his sandals.

He was clearly getting ready to go to bed, so you thought you would do the same. So, you walked up next to him, starting to slide your rings off, placing them neatly by his cloak.

“Let me do it for you.” You looked up to find Minho studying your face – trying to gauge how you were feeling.

You were pleasantly surprised by his thoughtfulness. He was clearly trying to make this meaningful, enjoyable in some way, not just something to get over with. So, with a small smile, you placed first one hand, then the other into his, letting him work your rings off your fingers.

You weren’t proud of your hands. Once, they had been the soft, smooth, pampered hands of a noblewoman, a girl without a care in the world. Now… you were a little embarrassed at the way they looked in Minho’s hands. You almost had more calluses than he did, the skin of your palms toughened from endless hours of scrubbing and gardening and hauling things to and fro.

Minho appeared to pick up on your discomfort, regarding you thoughtfully as he trailed his fingers over the rough bumps. For two people who were strangers, it should have felt strange – but once again, the casual intimacy, the feeling of his touch felt so natural, so instinctively right that you couldn’t help but wonder whether if you were under a spell.

After a brief moment of hesitation, he surprised you by dipping his head down, pressing soft, heartfelt kisses to skin of your palms. “Don’t be ashamed of these,” he squeezed your hands, still clasped in his. “They’re just proof that…life isn’t easy for you, but you still work hard, fight your way through it – that’s something to be proud of.”

Your heart melted at the compassionate words, at the kindness, the tenderness he was showing you, even though he absolutely didn’t need to.

“Thank you,” you whispered, voice laden with emotion, as you squeezed his hands, trying to give him some sense of how his words had affected you.

To your amusement, now Minho was clearly the embarrassed one, coughing a little before turning his gaze back to your arms. “Let me help you with these as well,” he asked, gesturing to your bracelets and arm bands. You nodded yes, suddenly eager to feel his fingers on your skin.

He faltered a little with the clasps, likely a bit too dainty and delicate for his larger fingers.

“Not used to taking off a woman’s jewelry?” You teased lightly, your insides still warm and fuzzy from the feeling of his lips on your palms.

“No,” Minho let out a breathy laugh, briefly lifting his eyes to yours before bringing them back down to his task. “I’ve never done this for anyone before, actually.” And there was a hint of significance, a feeling of added weight behind his words that made you hope that... maybe he was feeling something more too – just like you did.

He slid the gold bands off your skin, placing them carefully on the table with your rings. With your arms and hands now bare, you felt strangely exposed in front of him, oddly vulnerable, even though your clothes were still perfectly in place.

“These too?” Minho gestured to your head and neck, still adorned by your ceremonial necklace and earrings. You nodded mutely, slowly growing addicted to his touch, the feeling of his hands on your skin.

He stepped closer to you, but immediately stilled, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath. When he opened them again, they were slightly hooded, gaze just the slightest bit darker than it had been moments before – and you found yourself looking back at Eros personified.

“Jasmine?” He leaned even closer, examining the back of your head, fingers barely hovering over the flowers tucked into your hair. You nodded mutely, overwhelmed by his proximity, before finding your voice.

“I thought they would look pretty,” you breathed out.

“They do, love, you do.” You flushed at the pet name, but what he said next took your breath away.

“But am I supposed to believe you didn’t wear these to seduce me, hmm?” You shivered at his words, the alluring quirk to his eyebrow – and at the feeling of his fingers sliding onto your exposed shoulders.

“Turn around for me,” he murmured, a sensual rasp to his voice, as he watched you obediently present him with your back. You could feel his warm breath on the back of your neck as he leaned in, sending warmth racing through your body. Lifting your hair out of the way, he easily unhooked the necklace, fingers now moving with more confidence.

As Minho’s fingers smoothed over your chest, gathering the necklace into his hands, you couldn’t help but sharply inhale.

“Sensitive?” he purred, his lips poised right by your ear. You barely heard the clunk of the necklace dropping on to the table.

“Yes,” you whispered back.

“Good.”

You let out a soft hum as his fingers trailed up your neck to your ears, gently unclasping your heavy, gold earrings from your sensitive earlobes.

“Good hum?” He asked softly, fingers lingering on your skin, now boldly dancing up and down the planes of your neck.

“Very good hum,” you breathed out, lulled into a state of sensual bliss. Minho let out a soft sigh of pleasure as you relaxed back into him, giving yourself up to the sensation of his touch.

He moved closer to you, the heat of his body radiating through your thin clothes, warming the skin of your back unbearably. Slowly, giving you more than enough time to shy away from his grasp, he placed his hands on your shoulders, steadying you before lowering his lips to the crook of your neck.

You gasped at the contact, at the feeling of his lips, his teeth so close to your pulse. You’d never felt anything so pleasurable, so sinfully exciting as what you were feeling at Minho’s hands.

As you moaned, lost to the wet heat of his mouth and tongue working your skin, he grew even bolder, wrapping his strong arms around you from behind, holding you captive against his body. You dropped your head back against his shoulder, arm reaching behind you to twine around his neck, fingers sinking into his lush hair.

Minho moaned as you tugged at his hair, hands tightening on your waist. In retribution, he pulled your hips firmly back into his, making you keen as you felt his hardness swelling against you, so close to where you needed him.

“Please,” you moaned. “Minho, please, I-”

He abruptly whirled you around, smashing you against his chest. “My name,” he groaned, hand creeping up to cup your cheeks. “It sounds so pretty on your lips, love – say it again for me.”

“Minho…” you whispered, your own arms coming to wrap around his torso. Your eyes were locked onto his, transfixed by the swirls of emotion in his gaze. Without even knowing it, you found yourself leaning in, eyes fluttering shut, head tilting up until…

Your lips met his. They were just as soft, just as pillowy as they had looked from afar, and Minho knew how to use them expertly – teasing you, tasting you until you didn’t know where he ended and you began. His tongue slowly flickered against the seam of your lips, asking for permission to dive in, to claim your mouth. You let your lips part under the pressure of his, giving yourself up to him – you were his to do with as he pleased.

As he finally let the two of you up for some desperately needed air, you softly mewled in protest, making Minho chuckle. “There will be time for more of that, love – a lot more of that, don’t worry. But first…”

He gazed down at you, eyes now fully hooded in lust. “Was that all of the jewelry? Or is there anything else I need to take care of?”

It took you a second to respond, Minho’s lips twitching in delight as he realized just how much he’d wrecked you already.

“There’s still one more…” you trailed off, looking up at him with wide, blown out eyes.

“Where?” He scanned your body in confusion, not seeing any obvious flashes of gold anywhere… before a wicked smile crept onto his face.

“Ah.” His eyes gleamed down at you as he slowly backed you towards the bed. “Can I find out exactly where this jewelry is, love?”

You’d barely nodded your assent before he had you in his arms, splaying you out on the mattress for his viewing pleasure before prowling in between your legs. Pausing to search your eyes for permission, he slowly slid the soft fabric of your tunic up your legs, exposing more and more skin to his hungry eyes.

“Here it is,” he clicked his tongue, smirking in delight: a single, thin golden band, twining its way around your thigh. It had been your guilty pleasure, wearing a piece of jewelry purely for your own satisfaction, in a place where no one could see it but you – until now.

Minho’s eyes were fixed on the band, admiring the contrast of the gold with your smooth skin, worrying the flesh underneath with his blunt nails.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, breaking his eyes away to look back up at you again. “I think I want to admire that on you for a little longer, love… Can I leave it on, while I play elsewhere?” He inched his hands just a little further under your tunic, making it obvious exactly where he wanted to explore.

“Please,” you responded, almost breathless from the promise of his fingers where you wanted him most. “Do anything you want.”

And with that, Minho threw your tunic completely up over your hips, completely exposing your leaking core to his ravenous gaze.

You keened as he gently dragged a fingertip through your folds, marveling at the string of wetness that followed his finger as he pulled it away.

“By the Goddess,” he drawled, tossing an amused look up in your direction, “you’re absolutely dripping.”

You burned with self-consciousness, about to slam your legs shut in embarrassment. However, Minho got there before you could, his strong hands keeping your thighs spread nice and wide for him.

“I’m just teasing you, love, there’s nothing you need to be embarrassed about,” he chided, pressing a sweet kiss to the soft skin of your inner thigh. “If anything, you should be proud – you’re being so good for me.”

“Now,” his hands slid up to your hipbones, using his fingers and palms to skillfully massage your tense muscles. “Just relax for me, and let me open you up.”

And how could you say no to that? Minho made a sound of approval as he felt you relax in his hands, letting your legs fall apart for him.

“My sweet, sweet girl,” he murmured, shouldering his way in even closer to your cunt. “I’ve been dying to just get a taste of you.”

Two of his fingers came to spread your folds apart, and he watched hungrily as your walls fluttered under his touch, the little bubbles of moisture beckoning him, seducing him.

You gasped as you felt the first press of his tongue against your entrance, the heat and pressure lighting your nerve endings on fire. You’d never felt anything as exquisite, as delightful ever before in your life – and you were afraid it was going to consume you whole.

Minho hissed as your fingers tangled into his hair, tugging at his tender scalp – and he immediately proceeded to punish you with a harsh lick to your sensitive bundle of nerves, one that had you almost thrashing off the bed in simultaneous delight and sensory overload.

But – it wasn’t enough. The spectacular torture his tongue was putting you through was only worsening the ache, deep inside you, begging for pressure, for something to open you up, to split you open.

“Minho,” you panted. “P-please, I need – need you inside.”

Minho fairly cackled, clearly delighted at just how frantic you were for him. And it was just as well - for he was clearly getting impatient.

So, he gently pushed a single finger into your tight, aching pussy – and your fingernails almost drew blood at the toe-curling pleasure, the sheer satisfaction of finally getting some of the friction you’d been desperate for.

“Oh, love,” Minho cooed at you in false sympathy. “If just a finger makes you react like that… my cock is going to destroy you.”

As you clenched at the heat of his words, Minho eased a second finger and then a third into your core, your walls clinging to his fingers with every thrust in and out. Your head lolled back, your eyes shuttered at his skilled ministrations; the slow, deep, devastating way he was fucking into you.

When he added his mouth back into the mix, lapping at your clit with strong, forceful licks, you felt yourself hurtling unstoppably towards your peak, the pleasure becoming too much for your body to handle. “I’m-I’m getting close,” you breathed out, wanting to warn him before you turned into a trembling, shivering mess.

But your moans turned into a wail as Minho yanked his fingers out of you, depriving you of the high you were so close to reaching.

“Not yet, love.” He leaned up over you, pressing a soft, only slightly apologetic kiss to your forehead. “For our first time, I want you to come apart on my cock – and my cock only.”

At the dark promise in his voice, at the assurance that he would take you up that sensual climb once again, your discomfiture faded away – and a healthy sense of curiosity flooded in in its wake. The two of you were almost still fully clothed, and you wanted to see Minho in his full glory.

You stretched your hand out to Minho’s chest, gently tugging at the neckline of his tunic. “Could you take this off?” you asked shyly, heat rising into your face at the grin spreading across Minho’s face.

Without another word, he stood up and unabashedly stripped bare, tossing his clothes off into some forsaken corner of the room. You couldn’t help but stare, the warm heat of desire unfurling deep in your belly. You’d seen men naked before of course, at festivals and at games, but never from so close – and never when they were quite so…aroused. And Minho was a stunning example of the male body – all broad shoulders, toned muscle, and veiny skin.

“You’re beautiful,” you quietly whisper. At the sincerity in your voice, Minho paused short for a second, before giving you a soft, almost bashful smile back, the slightest hint of a blush rising to his cheeks.

He laid back down next to you, propping himself on his elbows – his body somehow seeming larger, hotter without clothing in the way. Reaching over with an arm, he ran his fingertips gracefully over the jeweled brooches at your shoulders.

“May I?”

In lieu of an answer, you lifted yourself up off the pillow, giving him better access to the large pins. With a satisfied grin on his face, Minho set to work, unfastening the brooches in record time; when he finished, the soft material of your tunic slithered down off your body, leaving your chest bare for his inspection.

“Gorgeous,” he whispered, fingers reaching up almost automatically to tweak your hardening nipples. You moaned in sensitivity, almost falling back down against the mattress; however, his strong arm glided underneath to catch you, pulling you against his chest. You found that the slide of his skin against yours was one of the most sensuous feelings you’d ever experienced.

Holding you closely against him, Minho pressed his lips to yours once again, devouring you with such passion, such fury that you were sure your lips were going to be bruised and swollen tomorrow. This time however, he let his lips travel everywhere: your neck, your earlobes, your collarbones, the valley between your breasts.

You almost let out a sob when he picked up one of your neglected nipples in his mouth, teasing it with his tongue none-too-gently. As your hands reached up, clawing against his shoulders for some type of relief, he let your nipple go with a wet pop, smirking into your skin.

“Crying for me already, hmm? But there’s so much I haven’t even shown you yet.”

And with that, he rolled the two of you over, so he was half-sitting, half-lying on his back under you, while you were straddling his hips. With sure, steady fingers, Minho untied the cord holding your tunic to your waist – the last barrier of your modesty – and threw the useless cloth aside without a second glance.

He moaned as he took in the sight of you perched on his lap – fully bare, veritably dripping with desire for him. “By the Gods above…” he whispered to himself, hands traveling everywhere over your skin, mapping out the curves of your body as if he were trying to brand the sight of you, this moment into his memory.

Without giving you a second to breathe, he wrapped his arms tightly around your now bare torso, forcing you to arch your back into him. He immediately proceeded to mouth at your breasts to his heart’s content – and you were rendered powerless in his arms, a willing subject to his desires.

In the position you were in, settled in his lap, the shaft of his cock was languidly dragging against your core, sending little jolts of stimulation through you. You were slowly getting overwhelmed by all of the sensations: his skin, his mouth, his hands, his length all driving you insane. You could feel him everywhere, all around you – but you still needed something more.

“M-Minho…” you moaned, trying to get his attention as he sucked bruises into the sensitive undersides of your breasts. “I-I need…I need…”

“Hmm? What do you need, my lady? You need to be able to tell me what you need, right?” The slight mocking hint in his voice only made you more wet, more desperate for something, anything to relieve the ache between your legs.

“I need you,” you whispered. “I need you to make me yours.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw. “You want to be mine, love? You want me to make you mine?” His eyes bored into yours with such heat, such passion that you could feel yourself melting into him.

“Yes.”

He guided you to sit up fully, lifting you up by the hips until you were supporting your weight on your knees. You shivered as he moved one hand to pump himself under you, the weeping head of his cock brushing against your swollen folds.

“Use me for your pleasure, my Goddess,” he whispered, sending chills down your spine. “Take me how you’d like, as slowly, as roughly as you want. I’ll follow your lead – for now.”

You leaned down to take his face between your hands, pressing your lips to his for one final, sensual kiss, before reaching down to align his cock, throbbing in your hand, with your entrance. Your thighs trembled with strain as you slowly, gingerly lowered yourself onto his length.

Your head fell forward onto his shoulder as the head of his cock started to part your folds, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. But you felt his hands seize your hips, his chest flexing delightfully under you, as he stopped you from dropping any lower.

“Don’t hide from me, love,” he whispered, drawing a cry from your lips as he gave you a gentle, but warning smack on your ass. “I want to see you as you’re taking me for the first time.”

You straightened up, fighting to keep your head held high. The intensity in his eyes twisted your insides into knots as he allowed you to continue sinking onto him, taking inch after delicious inch into your aching cunt.

You did your best to keep your eyes open, focused on his, but you couldn’t for long; eventually, your eyes slid shut as you let out a long, plaintive whimper, finally experiencing the delicious sensation of being split open by him, being stretched beyond belief.

Minho softly shushed you, rubbing soothing circles into the skin of your hips, pressing soft kisses to the inside of your wrist. Still, you could tell he was having a hard time too – the muscles in Minho’s neck were visibly jumping, tensing with strain as he struggled to hold himself back, keeping himself from just slamming into you with one powerful thrust.

The two of you moaned as one when your hips were finally flush with his, his cock firmly buried inside you. “Good girl,” Minho breathed out, his fingers smoothing down over your hips, one hand hooking around the delicate thigh band.

With the subtle encouragement of his hands, you braced yourself on his chest, experimentally pushing yourself up off his hips before abruptly dropping back onto him. You gasped at the ensuing friction, overwhelmed by the feeling of his cock pushing inside you again, of taking him so deep within you.

“Fuck.” Minho’s breath punched out of him, his length twitching inside of you. You found that you liked the sound of him cursing, the way he looked so lost underneath you.

So you did it again. And again. And again until you found a rhythm: bouncing on his lap, hips crashing into his desperately, thighs screaming as you chased after your need to be full, driving you both to your peaks.

You were too far gone to notice that Minho’s eyes had glazed over as he watched you ride him, frenzied and wild in the throes of passion. In his eyes, you’d become Mylitta, a glorious being of lust and ecstasy – and he didn’t think he could hold out for much longer at the hands of the Goddess herself.

Planting his feet flat on the mattress for leverage, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you down to lay on his chest – the only warning you had before he began slamming his hips up into you, thrusting into you so hard that you knew you’d be bruised and swollen beyond belief tomorrow.

“Touch yourself for me, love,” Minho moaned out between increasingly frantic groans. One of his hands smoothed upwards to twist into your hair, angling your head so that you were forced to meet his eyes, blown wide with desire and exertion. “I’m so close to filling you up.”

But interestingly, it wasn’t your hand, rubbing wild, punishing circles on your clit, that tipped you over the edge. It wasn’t even Minho’s cock, hitting just the right spot with every smash of his powerful thighs into yours.

It was Minho himself – his eyes, blown wide with desire and exertion, unable to look anywhere other than your own contorted face. His hands, trailing fire and ice in their wake as they roved over your skin – pinching, touching, caressing. His lips, swollen and bee-stung from your rough kisses, sinfully whispering into your ear: “Come for me, my Goddess; come all over me.”

You released so hard that your hips almost jerked right off Minho’s cock, his biceps flexing to keep your shaking body pliant over his. You wailed, overcome by the pleasure, as euphoric delight coursed through your veins, leaving you trembling in sensitivity, in exhaustion.

The rhythmic pulsing of your walls, vice-like in their grip, triggered Minho’s own release; with one, two, three pumps into your oversensitive pussy, he let go with an animalistic moan of his own, making you shiver in tired delight as the hot spurts of cum filled up your sore, aching cunt.

You couldn’t do anything but just lay there in Minho’s arms, trying desperately to catch your breath, to recover from the onslaught of sensation. Minho didn’t seem to be in much better shape, his heart beating up a storm, chest rising and falling under your head. Still, with his remaining strength, he took care of you – hands massaging your tired muscles, lips clearing away your teardrops of emotion and exhaustion.

As the two of you slowly came down from your highs, Minho seemed to relax into your body, weary fingers lazily tracing patterns on your skin as he calmed down, length slowly softening inside you. But you…you felt reality wash back over like a cold tidal wave, dragging you down off your sandbar of respite.

This was it. The ritual was over; the two of you had done what you needed to – gone above and beyond in what you needed to, more like – and every second you lingered in Minho’s arms was borrowed time. Just because you suddenly found yourself craving more – found yourself wondering what it would be like to stare into those clear, beautiful eyes first thing in the morning; what it would be like to lay in Minho’s arms every night – didn’t mean that he would want that. And chances were – he wouldn’t. You’d seen it yourself, many a time these past months: men, women alike sneaking out after their night of passion, desperate to avoid awkward farewells, the pain of lingering glances and broken hearts in the harsh light of day.

You wondered if you should do the same – wait until Minho was asleep to sneak out, spare yourself the heartache of him looking at you in the morning without that warmth, that thoughtful curiosity coloring his gaze.

But Minho, in his state of drowsy heaviness, made the decision for the two of you. Slowly, tiredly reaching around you, he grabbed a corner of one of the discarded sheets, gently wiping your thighs clean as he pulled out of you. Then, without a break in his motions, he bundled you into his arms, laying your head on his chest to sleep.

“The bed is bumpy,” he breathed into your ear, the slightest tinge of… nervousness? seeming to break through the thick layer of sleepiness coloring his voice. “I think this would be more comfortable for you.” And without giving you a chance to argue, to make dumb excuses for why you shouldn’t do this – he promptly fell asleep.

Minho was clearly a considerate man. And very polite. That’s all this was, you told yourself; he was just being thoughtful in taking care of his partner for the ritual - like he would have been to anyone else he could have chosen tonight.

The wave of jealousy and envy that overpowered you at that thought just confirmed your worries.

You were a human, and you were weak. So, you told yourself that you could allow yourself this one night, this one chance to fall asleep in the arms of the man you thought you might… love just a little bit.

But – you had to be gone by daybreak.

In the present...

The sun was solidly in the western half of the sky, inching closer and closer to the horizon as Minho dragged himself home, despondent in his defeat. He’d spent the whole day searching for you, doing endless loops around town and even the villages at the outskirts. With it being festival season, most of the women were decked out in fine clothes and jewelry, making that point useless; Minho had just ended up trying to catch glimpses of the face of every woman with hair that even remotely resembled yours. It was as if you’d vanished into thin air – as if you’d just been a fever dream he’d conjured up.

When he made it back, he found Seungmin and Felix waiting for him, clearly curious as to where he’d been for so long.

“I thought the ritual only had to be done once, Minho,” Seungmin teased, raising a questioning eyebrow at the bedraggled state of his elder brother. “Why were you gone for so long?”

“The girl,” Minho moaned out, sinking down into an empty chair. “I was hoping to talk to her this morning – learn more about her, spend time with her, at least get her name – but she was gone by the time I woke up, and I can’t find her anywhere.”

“Sounds like you made a wonderful impression on her,” Seungmin began – but was stopped by a warning hand on his shoulder.

“You can’t explain it, and you don’t know why, but… you care for her, don’t you?” Minho looked up to find Felix looking at him with no judgment, nothing in his eyes but understanding – and compassion. Minho could do nothing but nod mutely, burying his head in his hands.

All was silent for a few seconds as the two brothers stared at each other, figuring out what they should do next.

“Well – we need to find her then.” It was Seungmin this time – the humor wiping from his voice as he understood just how much this meant to Minho. “Tell us everything you remember about her, and let’s see if we can figure it out.”

Both Seungmin and Felix listened patiently as Minho did his best to retell everything he remembered about you, trying to put in as many details as he could, in the hope that someone could piece the truth together.

Only a few minutes passed before Seungmin snapped his fingers, pulling Minho out of his narration. “Let’s see here – it seemed to you like she was well-educated, but with a slight hint of a foreign accent; she had rich, expensive clothing, but tough, work-worn hands; and she somehow knew your name without you telling her.”

Seungmin stood up, dragging Minho to his feet with him.

“There’s only one place she can be.”

The wind tussled your hair relentlessly as you ventured out into the sacred grove, an empty pot on your hip to get water from the spring. There was a storm brewing – that was obvious, from the grey clouds rolling in across the sky, from the weight of the air against your skin. What you didn’t know was when it would hit.

As you came to a stop, you let your eyes fall closed, tilting your head back and taking in a deep breath of moist, promise-laden air. You’d always felt at home out here in the holy grove; the ancient trees, the peaceful stillness all served as a refuge when your thoughts grew wild and disordered. Sat amongst the trees, the wind blowing through your hair and the cool water of the spring gently washing your feet, you’d found that any and all thoughts would flee your mind, leaving you tranquil and at peace.

Today, however – that wasn’t going to happen.

You shook your head, resolving to focus on the task at hand. You groaned as you lifted the heavy pot, now full of water, and balanced it on your waist, the muscles of your hips and thighs screaming in protest. While the worst of your soreness had dissolved over the course of the day, physical work brought them out again. Every twinge, every ache just reminded you of him – of what you’d had, and what you’d never have again.

“Let me help you with that.”

You whirled around in shock, water splashing out of the pot at your side, at the sound of a voice. And not just any voice – that voice.

Minho.

It was him, standing in front of you in the flesh. He’d clearly had a rough day: his hair mussed and falling into his eyes, his tunic splashed with mud and dust, his skin dull and tired. His eyes, however, were alight – with happiness, with longing, with love.

“I know-” he started, stepping out of the shadows to stand in front of you. He quickly cut himself off though as he took you in fully, a beautiful blush covering his cheeks. In quick, sudden motions, he yanked his cloak off, wrapping it around your shoulders.

It was now your turn to flush as you realized that the splash had rendered a good part of your tunic see-through, baring you to his eyes once more. You startled as his fingers brushed the sensitive skin of your arm, sending those very same chills trembling through you yet again, as he took the heavy pot from you and set it against his own hip.

“Wha-what are you doing here?”

“I spent most of the day searching the town for you… I was convinced I’d find you hiding behind some stall in the market, or sneaking out of the baths – but we both know that was stupid of me.” A self-deprecating, but still breathtaking smile crept over his face.

“Lucky for me though, I have a brother too clever for his own good,” Minho looked down at you, a meaningful, hopeful light in his eyes. “He told me that the best place to look was where I had last seen you… where I had lost my heart to you.”

You’d been studying your feet, unable to just look into those eyes of his for so long. But at those words, your head snapped back up. “L-lost your heart?”

“Yes.” Minho stepped even closer, so close that you imagined you could hear his heart pounding in his chest. “And before you decide my feelings for me again-” you sheepishly looked away as he sent you a knowing glance, “let me be clear.”

“My feelings for you aren’t just lust, and they aren’t just the result of some enchantment. I care for you. I mean, yes, I do find you absolutely stunning,” he gestured to the cloak, gaze sharpening for just a second before his eyes came back to your face, “and the speed – and mystery – that all of this has happened with has shocked me too. But…” he trailed off, lip trembling with the importance of what he wanted to say next.

He reached out carefully, taking your hands in his. “I promise you that this is not me feeling guilty about what happened or trying to take responsibility for you. I’d just like you to give me the opportunity to court you, to prove to you that… what I feel – and what I know you feel for me – is promising enough for us to think of a future together.”

His big, beautiful eyes were shining with barely suppressed emotion, desperate for you to understand his heart.

“Will you let me do that?”

The words of the old priest suddenly came back to you – and you somehow knew that this was exactly what he’d meant. You’d already gotten too into your head once; you’d convinced yourself that the Goddess’ gift couldn’t possibly be him – that her gift was only a single night of passion, and that it was your responsibility to cut it off, cleanly as possible.

Now, you had the unshakable feeling that letting Minho go this time would be the biggest mistake of your life.

So, with trembling hands, you reached out and took the pot from Minho’s lax arms; he watched you with an inscrutable expression, the faintest waver to his lips, as you turned away, set the pot down safely on the stones next to you.

His patience was rewarded, however, when you launched yourself into his arms, the breath coming out of him in a huff as you bodily crashed into him. As you nuzzled into his chest, you heard his erratic rate of his heartbeat smoothen out; the softest, cutest laugh of joy escape his lips. He wrapped his arms tightly back around you, resting his head on yours – and you were home.

[And later, when you and Minho were offering thanks in the temple – if you’d seen the head priest desperately trying to hide a smile of pure joy at the sight of the two of you, together again; or the knowing glance Minho had sent the old man, grateful in his newfound knowledge – you probably would have let the two keep their secrets].

A few months later...

You were clutched tightly in Minho’s arms, squealing into his shoulder in laughter, desperately dodging the nuts flying at you from all directions, as he carried you over the threshold of the bedroom – the final, symbolic rite to make you both husband and wife.

Minho’s excitement, his eagerness was obvious in his wide, ear-to-ear grin, in the fast strum of his heartbeat under your ear. Still, he gracefully skipped up the steps to the bridal couch – your bridal couch, you thought with a thrill running up your spine – carefully laying you down on the bed and giving you a gentle kiss on the forehead. “Give me a second to get rid of these idiots, love,” he whispered, the hint of exasperation in his voice making you giggle as he turned to head back to the door.

As you watched him negotiate with the men at the door – Seungmin especially giving him a hard time, it looked like to your amusement – you couldn’t help but admire his side profile. Your husband’s side profile, you reminded yourself with a quiet, joyful laugh.

The past few months had been the most blissful of your life. Minho had kept his promise and courted you as thoroughly as he could. You’d gone on long walks, talking about everything and anything under the sun; you’d spent quiet, peaceful afternoons by the temple pool, where you learned what it was like to just relax and let go in one another’s arms; you’d snuck in not-so-quiet, stolen sessions of kisses, alternately frantic and dazed, languid and slow. His family had welcomed you as one of their own, Seungmin and Felix happily taking on the roles of the brothers you’d lost, and the old priest still chuckled every time he saw the two of you together, still proud of how he’d helped Minho find his way back into your heart…and maybe some other things as well.

While you may have gotten to know Minho the man on that fateful night, you’d spent the past few months learning about Minho the person – and what you’d found convinced you that the two of you could be happy together.

To your simultaneous happiness and frustration, however, Minho had refused to touch you during your courtship: stalling your roving hands with gentle teasing and stepping away from you every time that delicious, dark look took over his eyes. You knew that his intentions were good; he wanted to prove to you that his feelings for you weren’t grounded in lust, and his commitment to you, the importance he gave to your feelings all made you happy. They really did. But…

Your body craved his. You’d replayed the events of that night in your mind a ridiculous number of times, trying to replace his hands, his fingers with yours – an exercise in absolute futility. You’d spent the past few weeks especially fighting a losing battle with your lust, worn down to the point where you were almost ready to beg Minho for relief.

So, you’d eagerly, eagerly been anticipating tonight, wondering what heights of passion your lusty husband could take you to when he was finally all yours – and you were all his.

Over by the doorway, Minho had finally managed to successfully put the fear of his wrath into the unruly guests, slamming the door on them before turning back to you. This time, happily, blessedly alone.

“My wife,” Minho whispered, almost reverently, as he stepped up to the bed, eyes almost spilling over with love and affection.

“Husband,” you breathed back, echoing his tone of voice as you watched him climb onto the bed; your heart fluttered at the added weight, at the heat of his body next to yours. You curled into him like a cat, letting out a breathy sigh of pleasure at the feeling of every inch of your body pressing into his. The two of you laid there like that for a few minutes in content silence, Minho’s strong arms secure around you, holding you to him like he’d never let you go again.

“You must be so tired, my sweet wife,” Minho looked down at you, a wide-eyed look of concern on his face. You were just about to open your mouth to argue with him when he swooped down, pressing a soft, but dismissive kiss to your forehead. “Sleep well, okay?”

Wait…what?

You watched in dawning disbelief as your husband blew all of the bedside candles out, leaving a single lamp to light your bed, before burrowing into the sheets, curling up and turning to put his back to you.

You waited for one, two, for three beats, waiting for him to roll over, tell you it was all a joke. But he didn’t.

“Minho?” you nudged him hesitantly. “What about the…the, um, consummation?”

With a confused grunt, your idiot of a husband flipped back to face you, the lamplight bright enough to showcase his perplexed expression. “But love… we’ve already consummated our relationship, in the presence of the Goddess even! So, we don’t need to worry about doing anything else tonight, right?”

He reached over to pat your head, a gesture you might have appreciated in different circumstances; now, it was just patronizing.

Your expression fell, your lips settling into a sad pout as you realized that, technically, Minho wasn’t wrong…

But, as you looked down at Minho’s face, still so beautiful even in the dim light, you could swear you saw the slight twitch of his lips, the barest hint of a smirk on his lips. Shifting your glance up to his eyes, you could see the finest glimmers of humor, a teasing glint in his eyes…

“You ass!” you spluttered out, watching in disbelief as your husband dropped his act, laughing uproariously at your expense.

“My love,” he wheezed out, enormously pleased with himself, “I wish you could have seen your face, my god…you looked devastated.” Minho propped his head on his arm, looking at you now with that gaze, with unabashed heat in his eyes. “I’m glad I left such a powerful impression on you.” You did your best to hold back a shiver at the dark timbre of his voice – but the clench between your thighs was automatic.

Still, you were mad. With a humph, you rolled over onto your other side, facing away from him. Two could play at this game.

“Now, now angel, don’t be like that.” You softly gasped as Minho wrapped a muscular arm around your waist, hauling you back against his chest. “I’m sorry, sweetheart – I just keep myself from messing with you a little. Forgive me?”

You couldn’t hold back a shiver at the feeling of his breath on your ear, his lips so close to that sweet spot right at the crook of your neck. He pressed his body fully into you, encompassing you in his heat – and enticing you with slow, drawn-out swivels of his hips into yours.

“You don’t play fair, Minho.” You pouted, rolling over to face him directly. “You make it impossible for me to resist you,” you almost whispered, throwing your leg over Minho’s hips, wanting nothing more than to melt your body into his.

You gasped at the feeling of his hardness poking into where you wanted him the most. For all of his posturing, it looked like he wanted this just as much as you did.

“And do you think I can resist you, sweetheart?” Minho rasped out, pushing you with a firm, but gentle hand onto your back for him, slotting himself over you. A soft whimper escaped your lips at the feeling of his weight on yours, the pressure you’d missed for entirely too long.

“Do you know just how many times I’ve almost snapped, almost reduced myself to begging for just another taste of that delicious cunt?” His dirty, sinful words only added to the slick gathering between your legs as his hips ground rough, heavy circles into your wetness, tantalizing you with just hints of the friction you craved.

“I think you need a reminder, wife mine, of just how much I desire you… and how well I can please you.” And as your husband crawled down between your legs, gazing up at you hungrily as he threw your legs over his shoulders – you knew you were in for a long night… and morning.

Fin.

1K notes · View notes

canadian-riddler · 3 years ago

Note

Arkham Riddler has a great representation of mental illness. Edward has it bad, his doesn't even realize nor acknowledge that he has issues. His illness is THAT BAD from start as in it twists his perception of himself. That cliche of "the first step to get better is recognizing you have a problem" is real. There's helping someone who refuses to be helped. Yes lots abd lots of stuff and humiliation happenned, but Knight Riddler is consequence of Interview Riddler

He is. He just has the wrong one.

For several reasons (one of which is probably necessity), DC plays a little loose with their depictions of mental illness, but Arkhamverse Riddler in particular almost undoubtedly has narcissistic personality disorder. People with NPD, to my knowledge, are extremely difficult to treat simply because the nature of their disorder prevents them from entertaining the notion that there could possibly be anything wrong with them, and if they realise they have a problem they have to almost totally change the way they interact with and react to and even think about other people. This would require a huge change in anybody's worldview that would feel impossible to handle.

How does this pertain to fandom? You rarely see people headcanon a character as having narcissism. Why? It's not a sympathetic disorder. It can't be fixed with cuddles and cathartic tears and warm drinks. Personality, even in a mentally healthy person, takes tons of time and work to change and there is absolutely no soft and gentle resolution to be found in a person with NPD. And Riddler's NPD is backed up by the fact he actually IS genuinely very intelligent, is very often right, AND has perfect recall! I have thought about this a LOT and I have NO idea how I would deal with this in a story. It's a massive character roadblock and I find it absolutely stunning that Arkhamverse makes him more and more skilled while sending him deeper and deeper into his mental black hole.

The most interesting part about all of it is that people criticise media for not having accurate depictions of mental disorders and yet Arkhamverse Riddler actually (as far as I know) is a great depiction of NPD and yet this never gets acknowledged! In fact, his NPD often gets overwritten with a different disorder which is easier to deal with (a thing which I myself am guilty of). Fascinatingly, people who ascribe responsibility for Riddler's actions to Batman would actually make Riddler even more entrenched in his narcissism!

And yes, you are correct. Riddler is the walking definition of a person who refuses to admit they have a problem. I'm not sure he's even capable of doing so post-Arkham Knight simply because canonically at that point he actually is genuinely powerful and wealthy, alongside being very intelligent and having a flawless memory.

#so says Indy #nonamesnotitles #asks #Riddler #Programmer Dad #Arkham Knight #it's really quite incredible that they did this with a side character tbh #or maybe it was easier idk #I know the next Batman game has him in it but honestly he shouldn't even be #based on the character trend #IDK maybe they'll come up with something genius we'll see

132 notes · View notes

the-king-andthe-lionheart · 3 years ago

Text

So this is definitely in response to that certain dark section of our fandom (you know exactly who you are) who are throwing a fit about the Arya and Daenerys fandoms enjoying the possibility of a canon Daenarya friendship in the future. So let’s look at all the quotes that possibly foreshadow a future Arya and Dany friendship and put it into context.

It was very dark right now, she realized. She hugged her bare knees tight against her chest and shivered. She would wait quietly and count to ten thousand. By then it would be safe for her to come creeping back out and find her way home.

By the time she had reached eighty-seven, the room had begun to lighten as her eyes adjusted to the blackness. Slowly the shapes around her took on form. Huge empty eyes stared at her hungrily through the gloom, and dimly she saw the jagged shadows of long teeth. She had lost the count. She closed her eyes and bit her lip and sent the fear away. When she looked again, the monsters would be gone. Would never have been. She pretended that Syrio was beside her in the dark, whispering in her ear. Calm as still water, she told herself. Strong as a bear. Fierce as a wolverine. She opened her eyes again.

The monsters were still there, but the fear was gone.

Arya got to her feet, moving warily. The heads were all around her. She touched one, curious, wondering if it was real. Her fingertips brushed a massive jaw. It felt real enough. The bone was smooth beneath her hand, cold and hard to the touch. She ran her fingers down a tooth, black and sharp, a dagger made of darkness. It made her shiver.

"It's dead," she said aloud. "It's just a skull, it can't hurt me." Yet somehow the monster seemed to know she was there. She could feel its empty eyes watching her through the gloom, and there was something in that dim, cavernous room that did not love her. She edged away from the skull and backed into a second, larger than the first. For an instant she could feel its teeth digging into her shoulder, as if it wanted a bite of her flesh. Arya whirled, felt leather catch and tear as a huge fang nipped at her jerkin, and then she was running. Another skull loomed ahead, the biggest monster of all, but Arya did not even slow. She leapt over a ridge of black teeth as tall as swords, dashed through hungry jaws, and threw herself against the door. - Arya III AGOT

Here is the initial passage that has to do with dragons in Arya’s story. She comes across the dragon skulls in the dark and feels afraid of them. She feels as if the eyes of the skulls were watching her and did not like her. She also doesn’t recognize them for what they are. She initially refers to them as monsters, but later she comes to realize they are dragons:

This time the monsters did not frighten her. They seemed almost old friends. Arya held the candle over her head. With each step she took, the shadows moved against the walls, as if they were turning to watch her pass. "Dragons," she whispered. She slid Needle out from under her cloak. The slender blade seemed very small and the dragons very big, yet somehow Arya felt better with steel in her hand. - Arya IV AGOT

Now admittedly the first quote does sound like the foreshadowing could suggest antagonism between Arya and Dany, but the second quote doesn��t suggest this. Arya thinks of them as if they are old friends. That is the most notable sentence of the paragraph, not the fact that she slid Needle out. But when you actually look at this paragraph you actually see a duality here. The monsters did not frighten her. They seemed almost old friends. Yet she slides her blade out and feels better? So for me this quote just seems to foreshadow that Dany will be Arya’s friend, yet Arya will remain wary of her dragons like anyone naturally would be.

So putting these two quotes into context, it tells us that if Arya and Dany will meet they will initially be antagonistic and wary of each other (most Daenarya fans I’ve seen acknowledge this will likely be the case). However it also suggests that this wariness will eventually fade and they will become friends. Arya doesn’t need to think she is wholly safe from the dragons to have a friendship with Dany. EVERYONE is wary about the dragons, just like most people would be unsure and most likely afraid if they were in the same room as a large cat or a bear.

But this isn’t Arya’s only dragon connections in the narrative. Arya’s closest relationship is with Jon, who is half Targaryen. In Braavos Arya is fascinated by the courtesans and the Black Pearl in particular:

"The Black Pearl," she told them. Merry claimed the Black Pearl was the most famous courtesan of all. "She's descended from the dragons, that one," the woman had told Cat. "The first Black Pearl was a pirate queen. A Westerosi prince took her for a lover and got a daughter on her, who grew up to be a courtesan. Her own daughter followed her, and her daughter after her, until you get to this one [...] - Cat of the Canals AFFC

The woman with him could not have been more than a third his age. She was so lovely that the lamps seemed to burn brighter when she passed. She had dressed in a low-cut gown of pale yellow silk, startling against the light brown of her skin. Her black hair was bound up in a net of spun gold, and a jet-and-gold necklace brushed against the top of her full breasts. As they watched, she leaned close to the envoy and whispered something in his ear that made him laugh. "They should call her the Brown Pearl," Mercy said to Daena. "She's more brown than black."

"The first Black Pearl was black as a pot of ink," said Daena. "She was a pirate queen, fathered by a Sealord's son on a princess from the Summer Isles. A dragon king from Westeros took her for his lover."

"I would like to see a dragon," Mercy said wistfully. - Mercy TWOW

There is even foreshadowing that Arya will form a closer relationship with the Black Pearl in the future by becoming an apprentice for her so Arya can refine her highborn manners so it’s easier for the FM to place her into highborn society to do their work, because why not utilize a highborn girl in this way?

But also notice that Arya/Mercy is friends with a girl named “Daena” which is ridiculously close to the name Daenerys. And in the same conversation with Daena (Daenerys) Arya/Mercy also said she wished to see a dragon. And no this isn’t “Mercy’s” wish, this is Arya’s wish:

As Arya crossed the yard to the bathhouse, she spied a raven circling down toward the rookery, and wondered where it had come from and what message it carried. Might be it's from Robb, come to say it wasn't true about Bran and Rickon. She chewed on her lip, hoping. If I had wings I could fly back to Winterfell and see for myself. And if it was true, I'd just fly away, fly up past the moon and the shining stars, and see all the things in Old Nan's stories, dragons and sea monsters and the Titan of Braavos, and maybe I wouldn't ever fly back unless I wanted to. - Arya X ACOK

Doesn’t really sound like Arya hates dragons or have any issues regarding them. She wants to see them irregardless of any fear they may inspire within her that everyone would naturally have upon seeing a dragon.

Arya also expresses a wish to fly throughout her narrative and she also has wing symbolism in her arc:

If I was a crow I could fly down and peck off his stupid fat pouty lips. - Arya X ACOK

If I had wings I could fly back to Winterfell and see for myself. And if it was true, I'd just fly away, fly up past the moon and the shining stars, and see all the things in Old Nan's stories, dragons and sea monsters and the Titan of Braavos, and maybe I wouldn't ever fly back unless I wanted to. - Arya X ACOK

I wish I could change into a wolf and grow wings and fly away. - Arya XIII ASOS

She might be bald and skinny, but Mercy had a pretty smile, and a certain grace. Even Izembaro agreed that she was graceful. She was not far from the Gate as the crows flies, but for girls with feet instead of wings the way was longer. - Mercy TWOW

Also lets not forget how similar Arya and Dany are to each other and how many parallels they share. They are both lost princesses exiled and sent to Essos, specifically Braavos, after their father's deaths at the hands of Lannister's. They each know what it's like to be bought and sold and to be enslaved – Dany as a child bride and Arya as a child soldier. And they both have pretenders trying to take their claims. Both have been forced into becoming smallfolk, living in poverty and starved. And they both know what it's like to be hunted and scared. They adapt exceedingly well into other environments and cultures, and their morality and sense of justice are very attuned, as they seek to protect those that can not protect themselves. Very protective, they are both empathetic and maternal and care for the sick, ailing, and dying. Both of them are survivors and have both suffered abuse and sexual assault (more so for Dany, but it's still there). They are both clever and know how to manipulate people. They are both polyglots and both of their deepest desires are for home and family/pack. They both try to live up to the image of their older siblings (ie Sansa and Rhaegar). Arya is said to look and act like Lyanna and Daenerys is compared to Rhaegar by the people that knew him. They are both very close to their house sigils and even dream about them and the mystical beasts they both own. They both love horseback riding and they both have encountered mystical prophets. Wanted/considered becoming sailors and they both have fantastic people skills. Not to mention that it was Arya who said that the slaves should have killed the masters, while Dany is leading a slave uprising to overthrow and yes, execute the masters.

Dany is also not some “mad queen” and she does listen to the people who knew her father and Rhaegar. She is learning the truth about the monster her father was and learning to accept that. So there is no reason why Dany should continue to feel antagonistic towards the next generation of Stark’s for something they didn’t do.

I’ve also seen comments about how the fire devastation that is within Arya’s story must clearly mean “Dark Dany” and that Arya and Dany will be antagonistic towards each other in canon when they meet. I’m assuming these people are referring to the burning barn scene:

"You take her!" she yelled. "You get her out! You do it!" The fire beat at her back with hot red wings as she fled the burning barn. It felt blessedly cool outside, but men were dying all around her. She saw Koss throw down his blade to yield, and she saw them kill him where he stood. Smoke was everywhere. There was no sign of Yoren, but the axe was where Gendry had left it, by the woodpile outside the haven. As she wrenched it free, a mailed hand grabbed her arm. Spinning, Arya drove the head of the axe hard between his legs. She never saw his face, only the dark blood seeping between the links of his hauberk. Going back into that barn was the hardest thing she ever did. Smoke was pouring out the open door like a writhing black snake, and she could hear the screams of the poor animals inside, donkeys and horses and men. She chewed her lip, and darted through the doors, crouched low where the smoke wasn't quite so thick.

A donkey was caught in a ring of fire, shrieking in terror and pain. She could smell the stench of burning hair. The roof was gone up too, and things were falling down, pieces of flaming wood and bits of straw and hay. Arya put a hand over her mouth and nose. She couldn't see the wagon for the smoke, but she could still hear Biter screaming. She crawled toward the sound. - Arya IV ACOK

Arya rolled headfirst into the tunnel and dropped five feet. She got dirt in her mouth but she didn't care, the taste was fine, the taste was mud and water and worms and life. Under the earth the air was cool and dark. Above was nothing but blood and roaring red and choking smoke and the screams of dying horses. She moved her belt around so Needle would not be in her way, and began to crawl. A dozen feet down the tunnel she heard the sound, like the roar of some monstrous beast, and a cloud of hot smoke and black dust came billowing up behind her, smelling of hell. Arya held her breath and kissed the mud on the floor of the tunnel and cried. For whom, she could not say. - Arya IV ACOK

This chapter does not mean that Dany is going to go “evil” or “mad” and start burning stuff to the ground. You guys do remember that Dany has three dragons right? And that Dany is only the dragonrider to Drogon? That leaves two other possible dragons that could be stolen from Dany. We have Euron/Victarion who has the dragon binder horn and then we have Aegon who may or may not be able to claim one of those dragons for himself. There is also the possibility that Euron dies or Aegon dies and someone else will take their places as dragonriders via Targaryen blood or use of that horn. So besides Dany we have Aegon, Jon, Euron, and Tyrion who may all ride dragons within the story as they all have the proper set-up and foreshadowing for it to be a possibility. So why is it the automatic assumption that it will be Dany burning shit down?

Not to mention, wildfire has the same types of language used as the two quotes above:

And then some vast beast had let out a roar, and green flames were all around them: wildfire, pyromancer's piss, the jade demon [...] From bank to bank there was nothing but burning ships and wildfire. The sight of it seemed to stop his heart for a moment, and he could still remember the sound of it, the crackle of flames, the hiss of steam, the shrieks of dying men, and the beat of that terrible heat against his face as the current swept him down toward hell. - Davos I ASOS

So considering there not only is there a ton of foreshadowing that it will be Cersei who destroys King’s Landing with wildfire, but also there is foreshadowing that Jon Connington will do something incredibly drastic to win and keep the Iron Throne for Aegon. And may I remind the audience that the fires Arya went through and experienced in the Riverlands had zero to do with Dany. They were the direct result of the Lannisters.

So if Arya IV ACOK is foreshadowing a future fire she is stuck in, there is no evidence that the fire will be caused by Dany nor that the fire is dragonfire. And if you are going to point out the show as evidence, let me tell you something, go to the youtuber The Dragon Demands and watch his videos dissecting everything about the scene of Dany burning King’s Landing by using the script, listening to BtS content, looking at the storyboards, actually noting that a scene of Cersei looking out the window, depicting her watching people put barrels of wildfire on the battlements, etc. Because the compilation he makes proves that Dany burning KL the way that she did in 8x05 was a last minute change. It was supposed to be an accidental wildfire explosion before they changed it so they could justify Jon killing her. But I’m sure even with the evidence you’ll still cling to the idea of Dark!Dany because you are incredibly insecure about your fictitious ship and your blatant mischaracterization of your favorite “pure as the driven snow /s” character, because there is literally nothing in the books that foreshadows Dany going “mad” or “dark”. So why don’t you take your jealousies about Daenerys and Arya and the very possible Daenarya friendship somewhere else.

#arya stark #daenerys targaryen #asoiaf

111 notes · View notes

ceasarslegion · 2 years ago

Text

That breaking bad shitpost reminded me of the time one of my college friends told me it was irresponsible of my parents to let me watch breaking bad when it was still airing because i was 10 at the time it premiered. Thing is, im no fan of a lot of the ways i was raised, but the way i was exposed to media growing up i actually do agree with.

I've said this before, but both of my parents have always been massive horror fans. Part of why they started initially dating was because they finally found someone who wouldn't cower away from blood and guts. They never hid this passion of theirs from me, they just made sure I understood what I was looking at before they would put up their framed BTS photos of The Evil Dead or Halloween. That they were just photos, that there's blood in them because the movies had blood in them, that they're just movies and those characters aren't real.

I definitely think growing up in a horror stan household has a very different approach to media exposure than others simply because they have a different attitude towards things that are too extreme for most other viewers. Horror is in and of itself an acquired taste, after all. I can't count how many times my friends have thought it was deeply strange to borderline disturbing that our family movie nights involved slashers and psychological terrors. But the thing is, the kind of media my parents enjoy i very much believe set the stage to how i was exposed to things growing up.

They didn't really,,, believe in the rating system, if that's the right word to use. They saw it as a general suggestion rather than a concrete thing. And as a side note, as I would go on to get a film degree in my future, I'm glad they did, because the history of the modern rating system is extremely mormon, for lack of a better term.

But anyway, instead of adhering to an outside source telling them how to raise their kid, they instead took it in the direction where as long as I understood what I was seeing, I had the emotional and moral intelligence to know the difference between right, wrong, and when shit was complicated, and it didn't have any negative effects on me, I was allowed to see it. Full stop. To help that process along, I could ask them any questions I had about whatever I was watching, reading, or playing, we could have open and non-judgmental discussions about my own interpretations of these texts, and they never put any parental locks on things like my netflix profile and would send me to EB Games with signed notes saying they'd allow me to buy M-rated games with my allowance if I wanted them. Very few things ever got taken away from me, if any. I can't really remember anything off the top of my head, other than just not being allowed to talk to strange adults on the internet or give out any personal info, which I think was the only hard limit they placed on my media consumption. But that was an actual safety issue, not anything to do with this idea that I couldn't handle seeing morally dubious things depicted on-screen. In fact, my parents thought the rating system was kind of insulting to my emotional and moral intelligence lmao.

So yeah, I watched breaking bad as it was first airing, and yes, I was 10 when it first began. Which would probably make a good chunk of this site explode into discourse about how problematique that is and how it made think bad things were good, actually. But the thing is, my parents knew from their own firsthand experience with horror that just seeing dubious things doesn't inherently damage your psyche or alter your sense of right and wrong. So instead of adhering to this outdated and extremely generalized idea of what kids should be exposed to at what age, they instead actually talked to me about the things i wanted to watch and made sure I understood what they were, and that I had enough critical thinking skills to engage in them without negative consequences. As long as those two things were met, I could consume whatever media I wanted.

Fuck man, on the breaking bad topic I remember one time hearing my mom say "I would rather he see people having sex than killing each other, but he watches breaking bad anyway" regarding my interest in game of thrones in the 8th grade.

Anyway, the point here is that although there's lots of things I have beef with regarding my parents, their approach to my media exposure I think was a hell of a lot better than this webbed site's approach of "if you're under 18 all sex drugs and violence will TRAUMATIZE you and if you don't portray ONLY goodness and clear right and wrong actions your audience will thing BAD things are actually GOOD regardless of their age sometimes"

#story time #shut up dames

9 notes · View notes

therenlover · 3 years ago

Text

Would The Danny Bunch Survive A Holiday With My Family?

A/n: In the wake of recent life garbage, I have neglected to write a whole fic, and I’m sorry. In the interim, please enjoy this writing exercise I have put together in the hopes of nailing some characters I haven’t written for in the past in time for a larger project I’m working on! Cheers!

Characters: Laszlo Kreizler, Alex Kerner, Niki Lauda, Andrea Marowski, Ernst Schmidt, and Helmut Zemo

Rating: T

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Mild Misogyny, Mentions of Alcohol/Alcoholism, Mentions of Mental Illness, Non-Graphic Mentions of Death, Minor Spoilers for The Alienist Season One, Minor Spoilers for Goodbye, Lenin!, Spoilers for Rush (2013), Minor Spoilers for The Cloverfield Paradox maybe??? I haven’t actually seen the whole movie, blame Wikipedia if things are wrong.

Laszlo Kreizler

As the first of all of the Dannys to be put through the ringer, Laszlo Kreizler unfortunately would not survive a holiday with my family.

First of all, this man does not like massive huggy kissy crowds, so he’d already be off his game the second he walked into the packed house. That’s not why he’d die though, surprisingly.

His downfall would be his status as an Alienist.

There is simply so much mental illness and childhood trauma present at my family holidays that he would combust within 15 minutes of sitting in a room with all of my relatives.

Even if he were to somehow make it past the introductory phase, my family is nosey as hell, so they’d be grilling him about his arm and his own childhood trauma within the first hour.

Laszlo, for all of his strength, simply wouldn’t be able to withstand it.

His death wouldn’t come from the initial combustion though. No, it’s not that simple.

Knowing Laszlo, once he had combusted and entirely lost his composure the first time, he would become extremely intrigued about the interconnected nature of everyones issues with each other and he would start asking questions.

That’s where the problems would begin.

Because it’s one thing if my drunk great aunt starts badmouthing her sister at the table for abandoning her 90 year old mother for a lake house with her new boyfriend. That’s fine.

But when Laszlo hops in and starts picking apart the mommy issues and underlying reasons for their decades long sibling rivalry?

Oh it would be over for him.

The yelling would never end.

And, I have no doubt that Laszlo would start to psychoanalyze whoever started to yell at him, which would only lead to more yelling.

In the end, someone would throw a probably full and probably fresh out of the oven casserole dish at his head and he’d be unable to defend himself because of his weak arm.

We’d have to cart him out in a wheelchair and even if he were to technically survive, he’d never come back.

Therefor, Laszlo Kreizler would fall victim to my family and die before we even got to dessert.

Alex Kerner

YES

Ah, little baby Alex! A great contender here for holiday survival.

He seems relatively young in comparison to most of the Dannys on this list, though I don’t actually know how old he’s supposed to be.

Based on his relative youth, he would automatically get points with the fam for not seeming like a creep or sugar daddy. Instead, he could be just about any dude I brought home from college.

His skillset as a semi-skilled laborer would also earn him some points, seeing as several members of the family are in similar professions.

Alex might get lost in some of the more complex conversations about the local organic scene or the fine details of running a fine art gallery, but he would fit right in with the majority of the younger members of the family, smiling and nodding his way through the conversation.

His enthusiasm and optimism would brighten the room and leave everyone excited to see him around again.

There’s also the semi-small detail of him caring for his mother, which would earn sympathy from the older members of the family as they are in charge of caring for my deaf, blind great grandmother.

Now, all of these aspects have already set Alex up for a successful survival of a holiday dinner with my family, but the real secret weapon he has up his sleeve is what really cements him in place as a survivor.

What is his secret weapon, you may ask?

Lies.

Alex Kerner is really, really good at lying, and is even better at figuring out increasingly convoluted ways to keep his lies straight.

If he managed to hide to fuckin’ Berlin Wall coming down from his mother for as long as he did, he could keep a couple of white lies up for appearances if he was asked any potentially embarrassing or weird questions that would make him look bad.

He could also lie about enjoying my great aunt’s cooking, which is a vital skill for holiday survival in my family.

Therefor, at the end of the day, Alex Kerner would not only survive a holiday with my family, but he’d probably enjoy it and get invited back for every subsequent holiday he could possibly attend.

Niki Lauda

Niki is another Danny that falls very firmly into the category of characters that would absolutely not survive a holiday with my family, for many, many reasons.

First of all, just like Laszlo, Niki is not huge on going to big huggy kissy parties.

Both adults and children would be all over him the second he walked in the door, which would probably make Niki get very uncomfortable and cagey.

Little does he know at that point that people aren’t just all over you when you get in the door.

No, no, no; from the moment you show up to the moment you leave, if you’re at a holiday with my family you are being basically accosted with questions and hugs and conversations that get weirdly personal.

It doesn’t help that the whole entire house is packed and there are eyes on you at every moment, so he wouldn’t even be able to sneak in a break for air or a cigarette.

If my own mother can’t sneak out for a smoke when she’s been going to these events her whole life, the new guy who’s still being vetted by the family sure as hell won’t be able to either.

Needless to say, Niki would start to get really, really tired of it all in an hour tops. I’ll give him until dinner at most.

That’s where things would start getting really sticky.

See, a lovely little fact about the Niki Lauda that lives in my brain, as portrayed by Daniel Bruhl in Rush (2013), is that he’s just a little bit misogynistic. No more than would be period typical, but a little misogynistic.

Another fun little important thing to note is that my family is entirely matriarchal in nature.

There are only 4 reoccurring male guests at family holidays out of about 20 to 25 guests at each event; My great aunt’s husband of many, many years, the two male siblings my mother has that live in the area, and the young son of one of those siblings.

Men, specifically boyfriends, simply do not last in my family. They are considered pretty disposable and easily banned from family events after breakups or small mishaps.

So, not only would Niki not have any other manly men there to chat about sports with over a scotch and a cigarette, he would be surrounded by so much estrogen that he would definitely struggle with his inner asshole even more than usual.

In fact, we never have sports on, even on Thanksgiving. Poor Niki would be stuck hearing conversations about artisanal candlemakers and how to hand felt a woodland elf puppet.

Back to his downfall, the second he made a slightly sketchy joke about women in the kitchen at the dinner table to my great uncle, his fate would be sealed.

If you thought the yelling at Laszlo would have been bad, this yelling would be ten times worse, because he would be surrounded by like 20 very angry, very defensive, and very strong women waiting to beat the shit out of him and I would not be any help.

He dug the hole, so he can climb out of it.

In the end, his death would come when he tried to light a cigarette and calm himself down at the dinner table while trying to rescind his earlier statement, because smoking inside around all the precious textile art? Thats a big no no.

My great aunt would grab the lighter right out of his hand, light up whatever cocktail she had at the moment, and throw it all directly into Niki’s face.

It would be like crashing his car all over again, only this time he would be surrounded by people who would rather he burn than try to get him out of the situation.

Moral of the story, Niki would die within the first few hours of a holiday with my family because he made an asshole comment to a room full of women who don’t put up with that shit. Don’t be like Niki, even if you think you won’t get killed for it.

Andrea Marowski

YES

Andrea is pretty much the polar opposite of Niki here, and I love him for it.

He is very soft, very kind, very pure, and would never dare to say something rude at the dinner table like a certain racer we all know.

He couldn’t even say something rude if he tried to, because he probably wouldn’t have the English in his vocabulary to say the things he wanted to say even if he intended to say them out loud.

But let’s be honest here, Andrea would never.

Even with his limited English, Andrea would appreciate being surrounded by a whole bunch of people who think he’s the sweetest little thing since the invention of cake.

My great grandmother, despite being almost entirely blind and deaf, would say he looked darling and he would immediately be a member of the family from the moment he stuttered out his thanks.

Andrea, like Alex, is also relatively young, so he would get points for not being old enough to be my father.

I feel like, because Andrea was shown living happily in a tiny village by the ocean with two old ladies, he would have an appreciation for craft, so he wouldn’t mind sitting quietly as my great aunt pawns off a handmade blanket from my great grandmother to him.

He would also happily sit with the younger children and do whatever craft or simple game one of my aunts brought for them that time.

The cherry on top with Andrea is his skill with the violin.

My family is one that appreciates fine art a lot, but more than anything we appreciate music.

I wouldn’t say that any of us are anywhere close to Andrea’s proficiency, but we definitely aren’t terrible, and we all can appreciate the effort, practice, and talent that goes into getting truly good on an instrument like Andrea is on his violin.

He would be encouraged to play, of course, and he would happily oblige.

If he felt comfortable enough, I could even see my great uncle grabbing his guitar, my cousin sitting at the piano, and my sister bringing out her own violin to do a little quartet with some simple song they knew as everybody else sang along.

By the end of the holiday evening, once dinner was served and people were heading to the cars, Andrea would definitely be considered a member of the family.

Needless to say, he’d survive and pass their tests with better than flying colors, even despite the language barrier.

Ernst Schmidt

Now, Ernst was probably the most difficult one on this entire list to put into the living or dying category. In the end, though, there were a few things that couldn’t be overlooked that send him into bad territory.

To be fair, though, he would last the longest out of everyone who would die tragically at one of my family’s holiday gatherings.

He, like the past two victims, would not be exactly suited for the mushy crowding that’s inevitable when it comes to my family.

That being said, I think he would deal with it a little bit better than the other two did and would make polite conversation with the family when he could.

The fact that he was trapped in a packed house filled with drunk people who have several generations worth of beef with each other, though, would start to get him eventually.

If we consider all of the shit that happened while he was in space to be canonical minus, you know, the earth getting really fucked up, he would probably start to go a little bit nuts while packed together with that many passive aggressive people.

The second someone burst into tears on the way to the bathroom he would start to lose his shit.

Still, I think Schmidt would probably be fine-ish until dessert was served, because that’s about the time where all the adults are absurdly drunk, so insanity ensues.

They would start poking at him about his credentials and experiences as a physicist.

He would answer their questions at first, but, unfortunately for him, the questions would turn more and more personal and uncomfortable as time went on.

Did he ever still think about what happened up in space? Did he blame himself for not getting things to work correctly? How much did he miss his old world and old life? Did he ever have nightmares about what he saw? How much did it hurt to get shot?

They’d poke and poke and poke in their drunken state until poor Schmidt would snap at them, flying into a slight rage at their insistent probing.

From there, he would be swiftly asked to leave and then “accidentally” run over while calling an Uber to take him to wherever he’s staying as my drunk great aunt tries to back out of the driveway to drive down the block to her house.

In the end, Schmidt and his wit would be really close to surviving a holiday with my family , but he would, unfortunately, let his anger get the best of him, and it would be the last thing he ever did. Literally.

Helmut Zemo

YES, BUT ONLY BARELY

Okay, so my earlier comment about Ernst being the most difficult out of everyone was incorrect. Zemo was, by far, the hardest to put into one category or the other.

His wit and charm won out in the end, though, and I determined that he would survive one single holiday with my family.

If he ever came back for a second he definitely wouldn’t make it, but he would succeed in living past the first one.

Helmut’s problems start, surprisingly, not with the fact that he is a criminal. In fact that doesn’t even cause any problems for him.

No, instead they start with the fact that he is 43.

I am 99% sure that my mother is 43, and I know for a definite fact that he’s older than one of my uncles who would be present. I, at the time of writing this, am 18.

Needless to say, literally everyone would be massively suspicious of him and his intentions the second he walked through the door. The amount of money in his bank account definitely wouldn’t help in this situation either.

The family would warm up to him eventually, though, because if there’s one thing Helmut is good at besides killing people, it’s making people like him even if they absolutely shouldn’t.

With his expansive knowledge of what feels like literally everything rich and niche, he would slowly win over the older members of the family. Who knew the strange old man Jac brought home was so well versed in the American pottery scene, or that he could name specific jewelry artists from across the world that my family had done business with for years?

My family definitely wouldn’t. At least, not at first.

Oh how they’d learn, though.

Another nice thing about Zemo that would allow him to survive is his aggressive politeness.

No matter how many weird glances or dirty looks he got over the course of dinner, he would simply continue to be the best version of himself in the hopes of impressing everyone.

He would even pretend to enjoy my great aunt’s cooking and get himself seconds, because I’m sure it would be easier to scarf down than whatever he and his EKO Scorpion squad had to eat while serving in the Sokovian special forces.

On the tail end of reasons he would be accepted, Helmut Zemo drinks alcohol like it’s water, so he would fit right in drinking white wine and cocktails through the night with the rest of the adults.

((I think he’d totally tease me about not being able to drink with him, but that’s a story for another time. Anyways...))

His slight downfall would come from something entirely uncontrollable by him or anybody else.

And that something would be my flirty aunt.

I love my aunt. She’s wonderful in her own special way.

That being said, I know if a hot Sokovian baron with a nice smile and a fat pocketbook showed up to one of out holidays, even if he was introduced as my partner, she would be going for the kill all night long.

This would make Helmut more and more uncomfortable as she got more and more drunk, because lets face it, he’s probably not very comfortable with being touched by near-strangers anyways, and being touched by a drunk member of his partners family who is very obviously coming on to him?

That’s even more difficult to deal with.

That being said, Helmut is a man who has been shown to be extremely in control of his emotions.

He would swallow down whatever awkwardness he felt, make it to the end of the night, and, once he had escaped her clutches, he would politely say that he was never going back to another holiday function with my family again, though he would be happy to facilitate me still attending them.

So, in the end, Helmut Zemo would survive one holiday with his sheer stubborn politeness alone.

I will say that his patience would absolutely wear thin if he attended a couple more holidays and he would eventually die of a stress induced heart attack after being unable to politely decline my aunt’s advances.

For now, though, he’s safe.

#zemo #baron zemo #helmut zemo #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #niki lauda #andrea marowski #ernst schmidt #laszlo kreizler #alex kerner #jac rambles #imagine #the danny bunch

102 notes · View notes

thenugking · 2 years ago

Note

🖊

While looking through my blog, I realised I’ve never actually talked about Forest Hawke here, which is a crime. So here’s a bunch of stuff I copied over from an old skype chat about them.

BACKSTORY

Gets caught by templars when they’re 12 and taken to Kinnloch Hold

They’re very convinced they're gonna escape real soon and go back home!! They meet a nice friend called Anders, and plan an escape together.

They get back to their home village, discover their family have Moved On, develop a bunch of abandonment issues over that, get caught by templars, have their legs broken for trying to run away, one of which never sets properly, yell at Anders for instigating all this, and decide escaping is Hopeless and no one cares about them and they just need to look out for themself

They make their second escape during the Blight, when the Circle’s going to hell and they’ll easily be presumed dead in the chaos. The Warden’s party helps them get out and when Forest says they plan to go to Denerim and catch a ship out of the country, Zevran recommends they find his friend Isabela.

Forest ends up becoming Isabela’s quartermaster, (and also best friend who steals qunari relics with her)

Due to the bad leg, they can’t move around a lot during fights (and probably using any staff they have as a walking stick anyway) but they’re very skilled at entropy magic, and people fighting Isabela often find themselves getting slower and clumsier while the Definitely Not Apostate quartermaster watches on.

They stick together once they reach Kirkwall, Forest looks up the family they once had in the city, discovers the family estate is now owned by slavers, and invites Isabela along to kill slavers and hang out in an abandoned mansion pretending to be fancy nobles

They run into Carver and Aveline Also killing slavers there and have an Awkward Family Reunion.

FUN FOREST FACTS

Forest’s first response to danger is Murder. They kill Cullen after Enemies Among Us because he recognised them. (before escaping on the Deep Roads expedition), rip that guy.

They also kill Varric during Act 2, because they fucking hate the creepy stalker dwarf who keeps telling people stories about them while they’re trying to keep a low profile, butting into their love life, gets a guy killed by spreading stories about treasure in the Deep Roads, and is buddies with templars.

Feelings are Difficult and Scary. During Act 1, Forest trusts no one except Isabela, and that’s because they know she understands that you have to Put Yourself First.

They definitely Don’t move into gamlen’s house in Act 1, they still don’t know how to feel about being reunited with Leandra and Carver. (They get along with Gamlen fairly well. Not going through a year in indentured service helps.)

I spent Weeks agonising over whether to romance Fenris or Merrill with them and constantly going back and forth, before settling on Fenris because Forest needed an extra few years to actually be able to handle a romantic relationship, and I wanted Merrill to be with Bela. Fenris and Forest get to bond over escaping captivity, dealing with chronic pain, and being very snarky together <3

LIVEBLOG COPY/PASTE TIME

lirene: there is a healer in dark town who is perfect and selfless and heals the poor without asking anything in return forest: wow what a boring fucking saint. anyway i need to find him. lirene: he's an apostate and his name's Anders Forest: his name's w h a t now?

Forest: Isabela is my oldest friend Anders: Um?? Hello?? What about me?? Forest: I've known her longer than any of you Carver: I'm your BROTHER?! Forest: Isabela. My Oldest and Dearest Friend.

.......okay but there's absolutely no reason thrask should ask me for help

I told him I wanted to bring feynriel to the circle, very much Did Not let him know i found feynriel and sent him to the dalish, and then blackmailed him over his daughter being a mage

like where the fuck did he get the impression that i'm anti-circle?? I mean yes I Am massively anti-circle but he doesn't know that

"Arianni tells me you sought a better path than the Circle for her son Feynriel"

godDAMIT arianni

Forest: Hmm mage rights but for me only I think? The rest of u are on ur own

forest discovered they do in fact give a shit about their little brother when he collapsed with the darkspawn taint

maybe even More than one shit

also they threatened to kill stroud if he didn't help

anyway carver told them leandra's never been the same since they got taken by the templars, and cried for days when it happened, and she misses them so much and please let mum be a part of your life again?? forest agreed bc it turns out losing their family a second time Upsets them, huh, who knew

they also apologised to anders for Everything

Dumar: But now, the Arishok has requested you, by name. What did you do? Forest: I Absolutely did not help steal the qunari's most sacred item Oh Maker I am going to be murdered

they are VERY UNCOMFORTABLE right now

"Give him what he needs to keep the peace. Can you do that for Kirkwall?"

regrettably, no I absolutely can not

dragon age: ah you see Petrice is a Very Cunning Manipulator, the viscount asks if she harmed the qunari herself or Told the mob to attack, and you realise that No, she didn't actually do anything you can get her for!!! Forest: Oh yeah she straight up told the mob to kill the qunari and attack us. Promise.

Love how at the end of act 2 after aveline goes "okay tomorrow we need to go and speak to the arishok and it's super important, be very careful"

Forest and Isabela had been planning to get the book and fucking Dip, but Forest ended up staying behind to cover her escape, and now the city’s about to go to shit and they don’t know if they’re ever going to see their best friend again.

They arrive to the Arishok meeting late, after drinking way too much the previous night at a seedy little bar, waking up very hungover in last night’s clothes and deciding they'll walk down to the docks and decide whether to speak to the arishok or throw themself into the sea when they get there

arishok: Forest is the only person I respect in this city forest: hey dipshits isabela has your stupid book and she's fucking miles away by now *throws up on the arishok's shoes*

Larius: When your father was here, he was fascinated by the architecture, and kept stopping to examine carvings. A learned man :) forest: wow...... what a fucking nerd

you didn't have to kill Larius, janeka. you should have let ME do that

Everyone Stop Acting Like Forest Is A Selfless Noble Hero With Kirkwall's Best Interests At Heart

like the start of act 3 is just Orsino: hey everyone, doesn't meredith suck? Hey! Hey forest! Meredith sucks, right? Forest, from the market: Huh? Yeah! everyone: omg... the champion is so brave... so inspirational.... really taking a stand…

The good thing about being a Famous Noble is that you get a whole load of money you can use to secretly have a new ship built for ur bff and then when people get mad that you helped blow up a chantry and kill a bunch of templars, you and your friends can just bundle a bunch of mages onto the ship and get the fuck out of there. Bye kirkwall it’s pirate time now <3

#forest hawke #dragon age #dragon age 2 #long post #this was... a Lot of ramble abt my oc #anti varric #anti cullen #asks about ocs #marsh ocs

4 notes · View notes

kylorengarbagedump · 4 years ago

Text

Defy Your Authority: Chapter 2

Read on AO3. Part 1 here. Part 3 here.

Summary: So, like, what's the big deal, buddy?

Words: 3800

Warnings: None. Yet.

Characters: Kylo Ren x Reader

A/N: Hello!! Firstly, thank you so much to @bastila-ren and @elmidol for listening to me talk so much about this fic, for reading the first two chapters, and helping me with their generous feedback.

Secondly, I want to thank all of you for your EXTREMELY generous response to this fic. I admit I was very nervous to post this, and still am very nervous to write it, but I can't explain how helpful it is to know that people still enjoy the story and want to read more. It's definitely a story I want to write!

Y’all have truly been too kind to me. I don't have a posting schedule, just yet--I'm hoping every week or every other week. :) Love y'all SOOOOO MUCH.

Like the smarmy bastard he was, Hux fought off a smirk. But Allegiant General Pryde gazed at you with what some might refer to as sheer, indignant horror.

Kylo Ren stopped feet from the throne, his gaze wandering your grungy hair, dirtied uniform, the cell filth on your face.

“Hm,” he said. “That’s one way to greet your Supreme Leader.”

Embers tickled your cheeks. Your Supreme Leader.

You looked at the two other men. What was on your tongue: Would you prefer I get on my knees instead?

What you ended up saying: “Uh, sorry. Sir.”

“I believe the Supreme Leader requires an apology a little more comprehensive than uh, sorry.” Pryde stepped forward, as if to explain. “Sir, this woman was brought aboard by General Hux without prior approval.”

Kylo glanced between the older men, stare drifting to you, the darkness in his eyes reviving an animal within you that had been placed on life support.

“Yes,” he replied. “I don’t recall providing authorization for this.”

“Supreme Leader,” Hux said, “we both know your TIE has been out of commission for several cycles. I thought it prudent to--”

“You thought it prudent to ask a manager of a remote outpost to come aboard the flagship of the First Order. I assume that’s what you’re about to say.” Pryde paused, waiting for Hux’s contrition--but none came. He turned to Kylo. “Sir, again, please forgive me. Had I known he’d be bringing aboard a rim-dweller who would defy your authority, I would’ve denied his request, entirely.”

“Defiance.” Kylo’s gaze drilled you. Much like you had dreamt of something else of his drilling you. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Pryde balked. “Well, I hardly find it appropriate to address the Supreme Leader of the First Order as dude, for starters.” He spat the word onto the floor like poison. “Really, General, you and her both should be begging for his pardon.”

You swallowed, attention on Kylo, trying to hide your glee. “Please, please forgive me,” you murmured. “Supreme Leader.”

Hux cleared his throat. “My apologies as well, sir.”

“Hm.” If he’d understood your tease, he didn’t acknowledge it. You frowned. Kylo looked to the cloaked mercenaries behind you. “Escort her back to Orinda.”

Disbelief smacked you across the face. “I’m sorry, what?”

Sputtering, Hux stepped forward. “Supreme Leader--”

“You don’t belong on this vessel,” Kylo said, glimpsing you, then the cloaked figures again. “Report is postponed. Prepare the Buzzard for departure.”

Like droids, they activated and brushed past you, stalking toward the turbolift. The Supreme Dickhead gazed at you expectantly.

“They’re not patient.”

You shook your head, crossing your arms. “If you think I’m leaving--”

“Supreme Leader,” Hux said again. For once, you felt like both of you were stuck in the same flabbergasted pod. “Repairing your fighter has already wasted the time of numerous engineers, we don’t need to add--”

“Perhaps every engineer aboard deserves to have their time equally wasted, General.”

Hux’s jaw tensed. “If you wish, sir,” he replied. “But we could resolve the issue now.”

“We won’t.”

For whatever reason, Kylo Ren seemed dedicated to preventing you from working on this ship, as if he didn’t know your skill level. As if he believed other engineers deserved a shot at it over you. Ignoring the furious trembling of your fingers, you dug them into your sleeves.

“What, you don’t think I’m capable?” you asked, frowning.

Pryde sighed. “Supreme Leader, the Council--”

Kylo pivoted to you. “No.” There was no hint of mockery or deception in his tone. “You’re capable.”

You swallowed, shrugged your shoulder. Tried not to sound hurt. “Then why won’t you let me try?”

Hazel eyes lingered, held you in silence for deafening seconds. There was something very, very tired inside of them.

“Sir,” Pryde said, “as much as I love the rousing debate over whether or not this rimrat should be deemed worthy of working on your starfighter, the Supreme Council meeting is in minutes.” He turned to you. “I believe you’ve been directed to leave.”

You furrowed your brow, but miraculously managed to say nothing. The muscle under Kylo’s nose twitched.

“You’ll get two hours.” He didn’t seem excited about the idea. “After that, you will return to Orinda.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever,” you sighed. “Sir.”

A huff escaped him. “The Supreme Council meeting.” He turned, strode to the exit. “Come.”

Pryde frowned. “Sir, shouldn’t Hux return her to the hangar?”

“No.” Kylo’s voice ricocheted in the chamber. “She’s coming.”

Something like joy sparkled in your heart. Hux jutted out his chin, smirking at Pryde, who frowned and looked to you. You resisted the urge to stick your tongue out at him. There was a puzzle in his mind regarding your identity, a puzzle he was struggling to put together without the missing pieces. You weren’t interested in offering them.

The three of you followed Kylo into the turbolift. Out of irritation, you stood as far away from him as possible. Awkward quiet settled in the air, and you grit your teeth, ignoring the sting of humiliation at your cheeks. Sure, it was nice he was inviting you to his little meeting, but that hardly compensated for the fact that it had been four entire months since you’d seen him and he was intent on booting you without so much as a parting fuck.

Not that you wanted to fuck him after that stunt.

Mostly.

The lift descended. Kylo hadn’t even looked at you, despite your best attempts at petty distancing. Hundreds of words hung on your tongue, and so few of them were appropriate for the ears of Hux and Pryde. Luckily for you, you could think them, instead.

Jackass.

The blast door slid open, and Kylo exited without response, the two generals on his heels. You lagged behind them, glare boring into the broad-shouldered bastard with the flowing cape.

Can’t believe this asshole was here the entire time, knowing everything, with all of the power in the galaxy, just doing bantha-shit about it.

Stormtroopers passed in formation, nodding in deference to the men in front of you as you turned a corner. The clomping of boots was the only sound for meters.

Leaving you for four months, horny as hell, lonely as hell, all while he was here doing what? Jerking off? As if he hadn’t begged you to stay. Please.

At the end of the hall, a set of blast doors parted, and you trailed the group inside, greeted by a massive, jet-black table with a hologram projector buried in the center. The occupants of about a dozen chairs turned, their eyes stuck to you, assessing you. Kylo crossed to the head of the table, Hux and Pryde taking spaces near him. The only open seats were at the back, relegated for only the most irrelevant attendees. You slunk over to one, sinking into it.

Apparently you’re not relevant to anyone in this room, anyway.

“Who’s this?” A balding officer of high-rank stared at you. “Supreme Leader?”

Pryde leaned forward. “She’s the Chief--”

“Who she is,” Kylo drawled, “is none of your concern.”

Blood heated your face. The room rumbled with uncertainty, but only for seconds.

“Sir,” said an older woman with slick blonde hair, “Multiple locations on Kamino refused entry to officers seeking out junior recruits. Our entry-level ranks are suffering. Requesting additional--”

Kylo glanced at her. “Yes.”

She nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

“Supreme Leader,” said an older, white-haired man. “Surveillance indicates that a fuel depot located in the Inner Rim has received communications from Resistance starships.”

“Have they responded?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Eliminate them.”

“Yes, sir.”

Another, dark-skinned woman inched to the edge of her seat. “Supreme Leader, ground troops found no evidence of Resistance sympathizers on the most recent patrol of Aeos Prime.”

“And the infrastructure.”

“Seems salvageable, sir.”

Kylo blinked, as if the answer hadn’t even mattered. “Move to the next outpost in the system.”

“Of course, Supreme Leader.”

Yet another man cleared his throat. “Supreme Leader, if I may…”

Swallowing, you stared into the gleaming tabletop, tracing the rivets of white light bordering the projector. Voices rose, offering status updates and seeking approval of the man at the head of the room. Obviously, there was nothing attractive about how competent and powerful Kylo Ren appeared in this setting. And this definitely did not tingle pride in your belly watching every single person in this room vie for his favor, knowing that out of all of them, the one he’d fucked was you.

Then again, maybe that was the very crux of the issue. His time and attention was desired and demanded and split between thousands--he directed and delegated an entire, galaxy-wide government. He commanded armies. Strategized operations. Balanced every need, tangible and intangible, with only two hands.

You spent your days bathing in ion dust.

The Allegiant Asshole cleared his throat, breaking you from your pity party. “General Hux,” he said, “didn’t you have your pet project to present?”

All eyes turned to Hux, his face dull with irritation. Lips pursing, he straightened his spine, fingers whizzing over the data screen at his seat. One swipe, a quick field entry, and the projector hummed to life, shooting a blue hologram of a TIE fighter above the table. It flickered, rotating like a display.

“The First Order has regularly demonstrated deficient performance during naval engagements, despite our superior numbers and resources,” Hux said. “After gathering data, we discovered that during our most recent missions, the TIE fighter is regularly out-piloted by Resistance sympathizers.” He tapped the screen, and the hologram split into a cross-section. “Thorough research indicates the TIE model is obsolete.”

The room crackled with whispers, officers turning to each other and looking to Hux, their faces twisted in disbelief. Kylo Ren sat, saying nothing, trained on the display.

Sighing, you gazed at your hands and cleaned your nails. To you, this was obvious. Of course the basic TIE models--the TIE/fo models--were obsolete. The ships were highly inflexible, carried little firepower for their unwieldy construction, and had no hyperdrive application. In comparison to the model used by the Special Forces, the TIE/fo was practically useless.

It was less obvious why these high-ranking strangers seemed unable to handle the truth.

“General,” said a dark-skinned man. “Are you proposing we abandon the TIE corps?”

Hux pressed the screen again, and it zoomed in on an exposed ion engine. “At the very least, the most basic TIE corps is woefully unequipped in comparison to Resistance fighters.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he replied, “our pilots are extensively trained.”

Pryde sneered. “Admiral Griss is correct,” he said. “Our elite troops don’t demonstrate any issue with crushing Resistance burrows.”

“Elite troops are never the ones defending a new occupation.” Hux gestured to the engine blueprint. “We sacrifice our progress because of this antiquated construction.”

“And what’s so antiquated about it?” Pryde sneered. “The construction is based on the Imperial TIE. These ships were a well-known symbol of naval superiority.”

“Updated for modern needs,” added Griss.

Hux’s voice rose a decibel. “Not modern enough, given how frequently a single X-wing will decimate an entire unit.”

You wanted to groan. Against your will, you had to admit Hux was right. Orinda regularly saw straggling, crippled TIEs smash into the valley outside the hangar in attempts to land for repair. Mirna had pulled more pilots than you could count out of blazing wreckage.

“Do you suggest we change the basic TIE unit, then?” Griss asked.

“Perhaps,” Hux replied, “or we move to a different construction entirely.”

The other officers chuckled, murmurs rippling through the ranks again.

“Supreme Leader,” Pryde said, “what he’s suggesting is absurd. Sienar-Jaemus manufactures perfectly appropriate and functional fighters at an affordable price to the First Order. It’s been done this way since the Empire.”

Rolling your eyes, you sat back in your chair. For a General of a government allegedly interested in innovation and progress, Pryde seemed to love sucking the Empire’s dick. The fact that they were refusing to even entertain Hux’s idea was, well…

“Perhaps we should place a double order for the basic fighters, sir,” Pryde continued. “To demonstrate their capability.”

You snorted. “Now that’s absurd.”

Every voice in the room died. Leather squelched, and you glanced up from your nails in time to see a dozen bodies shifting in their seats to turn and look at you. Inwardly, you cursed--you hadn’t had to practice volume control in months.

At the head of the table, Kylo Ren stared. His expression, even to you, was indiscernible. But even if he was mad, you wouldn’t have cared. Not as long as he still intended on kicking you off the Steadfast without another word.

Shrugging, you said, “General Hux is right. The original TIE model is flawed. They lose out one-on-one almost every time.” Kylo still said nothing, the rest of the room too confused to interrupt you. “I guarantee there’s more credits spent on replacement models than it would cost to invest in something more versatile.”

Griss’s nose wrinkled, and he looked between you and Kylo. “I…” When Kylo offered no response, Griss settled on you. “I’m not sure what brought you here, ah… Lieutenant, but regardless of your purpose, you’re surrounded by superiors of the First Order. Don’t speak out of turn.”

“Right,” you said, “I do apologize, sir. But you have to admit that this all is a little absurd. I see busted up basic TIEs all the time. They’re a failure.”

“Yes,” he replied, “and you are?”

“Chief of Operations on Orinda.”

“An outpost?” The room echoed with laughter, and you bristled. Griss gestured to you. “Supreme Leader, please, why is this woman here?”

Pryde nodded. “I know you have your reasons, sir, but surely she doesn’t belong in this room.”

“Maybe this woman knows what she’s talking about,” you mumbled.

“Excuse me?” Griss whipped around, leering at you. “Mind repeating yourself, Lieutenant?”

Volume control. Really needed to get better with that.

Gathering a breath, you swallowed your ire. You could not spend all two hours on the Steadfast immediately making enemies with the military leaders of the First Order. Given Kylo’s state, you doubted he’d encourage your attitude.

“My apologies,” you said, bowing your head, “I’m just. Nervous. Being on this ship for the first time.”

“Perhaps you’ve spent too much time on Orinda,” said Griss. “You’ve forgotten the hierarchy.”

“She needs re-education,” said the balding man.

The dark-skinned woman huffed. “Or a demotion.”

“Some form of discipline, surely.”

“Yes,” said Pryde with a glare. “Perhaps that should be arranged.”

Your heart skipped.

“Enough.”

Every person in the room spun, attention on Kylo Ren.

He was still inscrutable. Still gazing directly at you.

A shiver spilled over your spine. Like instinct, your thighs pressed together.

“General Hux,” he said. “Prepare a plan for the replacement of the basic TIE model.” A pause. No one spoke a word. “Dismissed.”

You remained in your seat as the other officers rose, their lips sealed as they filed out of the room. Hux scowled at you--ungrateful prick--and acknowledged Kylo’s order before leaving. Pryde scrutinized you, his focus flipping between you and his Supreme Leader as he stood from the table.

“It’s time to leave, Lieutenant,” he said.

“I need a moment,” you replied, glancing at him. “Sir.”

Pryde turned to Kylo. “Sir?”

Kylo’s face was blank. “Dismissed, General.”

Whatever Pryde was thinking, he didn’t say. He offered deference to the Supreme Leader before strutting out, the blast door shutting behind him.

The moment it closed, the room thickened with heat, like stars vaporized the air. Sweat beaded your hairline, your tongue drying to paper. Every movement you thought to make was paused, paralyzed by confusion. Had it been four months ago, you’d be getting railed on top of the table or in his chair, you were sure of it. But Kylo seemed almost indifferent now. It neutered every response that came to mind.

Here you were, alone with Kylo Ren for the first time since you’d left. He was only meters away from you. And you had absolutely no idea what to do.

“Your time is limited, Lieutenant.”

A reminder he wanted you gone. You shook your head, chewing the inside of your lip.

“The silencer is free to be inspected.”

Indignance tightened your chest. Your face was on fire.

“Or perhaps,” Kylo said, “you’d rather travel directly to Orinda.”

You whirled on him. “So you knew I was on Orinda the entire time?” Your frustration was unfettered. “You knew and just didn’t do anything about it? For four months?”

His stare didn’t yield. “Yes.”

“Yes?” you said. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say for yourself? How do you expect me to respond to that?” More heat gripped your neck. He was still. “Why do you want me gone so badly? You act like you don’t even want me around.”

“I don’t.”

The words were switchblades to your chest. You shook your head, gulped your pain.

“Uh. Okay. Wow.” Sighing, you continued, “But don’t you--I mean. You pleaded with me to stay.”

He said nothing.

“You... I know how you feel. You can’t hide that from me. Do you…” Your throat was tight. “Did something change?”

For four months, you had wondered what had been going on in Kylo Ren’s mind. Seeing him draped in the responsibility of the Supreme Leader of the First Order, hesitation crept into your gut. Within his gaze, perhaps only apparent to you, there was a black, terrible emptiness, like shadows reined in by his rage. Exhaustion hung in dark circles under his eyes and at his cheeks. His presence was as breathtaking as it ever had been, only haunted with the weight of the galaxy.

For four months, you had wondered. You didn’t know, now, if you wanted the answer.

“You don’t belong here.” Kylo paused, then stood, moving toward the door. “Your presence is not warranted.”

“Warranted? That’s not what this is about.” You shot to your feet, intercepting his path. “You knew where I was, and you never once came to me! You left me there! Alone!” He side-stepped you, and you followed him, keeping your eyes chained to his. “Didn’t you miss me?” you asked. “Didn’t you think about me?”

He stalled. Exhaling through his nose, he spoke through his teeth. “Yes.”

“Then why didn’t you find me?” you said. “You promised!”

Kylo stood, trapped in your stare, his fingers furling into fists.

“I know how you feel about me.” You advanced on him. “I know it.”

You were so near you could feel his breath, count the individual strands of his hair, bask in the warmth of his body. A short inhale, and memory slammed you like gravity--the scent of his skin, his palms gripping your waist, his lips brushing your ear. The ache in your hands at night when they were not full of him, the bedtime yearning in your limbs when they were not wound around his. You had known him, known him, as if his blood ran in your veins.

This was the closest you’d been to Kylo Ren in weeks upon weeks. Somehow, you only felt further away.

“Why?” you asked. “Why didn’t you find me?” After all of it, he only stared. It lit you with rage, and you bumped your chest with his. “Say something!”

The muscle in his jaw tightened. His shoulders rolled. But he was silent.

A peal of bitter laughter escaped you. Whatever issues he had didn’t mater. You deserved more than what he was offering.

“Wow. Okay.” You shrugged, stepping back. “I don’t know who I was thinking about for these past four months, but it definitely wasn’t you.” Shaking your head, you turned toward the door. “Whatever, dude. Fuck you.”

You took a single step, and Kylo snatched your wrist, whipped you against his body.

“You say that,” he breathed, “as if you haven’t been thinking about getting fucked since you arrived.”

Oxygen fled your lungs. Every blood cell in your body piled onto your cheeks and between your legs. In seconds, you were a throbbing, pent-up, swell of lust.

You swallowed. “Oh, please,” you muttered. “You can’t distract me that easily. You know I need answers.”

“Hm.” Kylo scanned your figure. “So you say.”

“You’re such an asshole.” You tried to peel your wrist free. “Why didn’t you do this weeks ago, huh?”

His face darkened, his hold on you tightened.

“You ask questions that have no answers.”

“Ugh. Get off.” Grunting, you shouldered him, body buffeting his like a flaccid wave. It would’ve been arousing, his strength, how utterly solid he was, if he wasn’t making you miserable in this moment. “You’re so full of it, man. Let me go. I’ll go repair your dumbass ship and you can send me back to Orinda, like you so clearly want.”

“You presume to understand what I want.” His voice was severe, a dull blade. “You will not stay here.” The ghost of a smirk fled his face. “But you won’t escape punishment when you’re gone.”

You shuddered, stuck out your chin. “Your punishments don’t scare me.”

Kylo growled. “Really.” A leather palm cupped the back of your neck, tugged you close. “Such confidence.”

You couldn’t help it. A tiny, excited whimper left you. Kylo shifted, his hand squeezed--

The projector in the table beeped. An incoming transmission. The both of you froze, staring at the blinking request on the interface. You coughed, patted his chest as a signal to answer it. The knot in his throat bobbed, and he released you, crossing to the console and accepting the message.

Hux appeared in hologram form. “Supreme Leader,” he said, voice even more snivelly through the broadcast. “We received a distress signal from Orinda. Multiple Resistance fighters have been detected on radar. Requests for response from the officers stationed there have gone unanswered.”

The joints in your body locked. Your mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“Permission to dispatch TIE units, sir,” Hux said.

Kylo was still. “Dispatch.”

“Yes, sir.”

The hologram winked out. Before you could process, your feet were moving you toward the door.

“I gotta go.” Your pulse pounded in your temple. The entirety of your crew was down there. By themselves. “I gotta go there. I gotta get there. I’m sorry, I know I said I would repair your ship but--”

“Stop.”

“--it’s probably for the best anyway, I just gotta find some way there, I--”

He spoke your name like a command. You stopped. Stared into his tired, empty eyes.

His chest fell in a small sigh. “We’ll take the Buzzard,” he said. “Come.”

Kylo Ren tread past you, through the blast doors, into the hallway. The tatters of your bewildered heart weren’t a priority right now. You followed him--your Supreme Leader.

#kylo ren smut #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren #defy your authority #fya2 #fanfiction problems #WEEEWOOO WEEEWOOO

190 notes · View notes

blockgamepirate · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! Not sure if you’ve had any asks about this but you’re really good at explaining anarchist theory and such. I was wondering what your response is for Jack’s criticism to Niki in his stream? (He visited about 20 min in) Basically it boiled down to “if there is no government or law here, what’s to stop someone from just taking everything?” This is a criticism a lot of people seem to share, that without structure the only people with power are the ones with pvp skill. What’s the solution in that case?

Thanks for the ask! (and thanks for the compliments haha) Okay, first off I wanna link an earlier post I made kind of relating to this subject because otherwise I’d have to get a bit repetitive. But I’m gonna elaborate on this a bit here:

Oh yeah also disclaimer: I’m obviously not an authority (hah!) on anarchism, I’m just one random anarchist. I haven’t even read that much theory tbh, I get bored really easily. Point is, other anarchists might disagree what I have to say, these are just my thoughts and ideas.

1: So to me it kinda seems like Jack is confusing “no rulers“ with “no rules“. He’s thinking of 2b2t when he could be thinking of Hermitcraft (well, Hermitcraft is kinda mixed, sometimes they have a police and a penal system, sometimes they have a mayor, idk, but like... thinking of season 6 for example, which I still keep saying was effectively a mutualist society). Yes, anarchy CAN be “no rules“, but it doesn’t HAVE to be, and as a societal system it usually isn’t. The important part is that if there are rules they must be decided by the consensus of the community. That is, everybody has to agree to them mutually.

2: “No police“ doesn’t mean “no community self-defence allowed“. The difference is that the role doesn’t come with authority; the idea is to intervene to stop an immediate threat, that’s all. The conflict resolution is handled between the people involved and possibly some mediators and with input from the community as a whole if it’s a bigger issue. Honestly, the details aren’t even that important, the point is just that you don’t have a specific group enforcing rules on others

Living alone in her city Niki is definitely vulnerable, there’s no denying that. The best protection would be to have other people there to outnumber possible troublemakers. (Okay I know some people on the server can fight even massively outnumbered, but I mean even someone like Techno tends to think twice before fighting more than three people unless he’s prepared.) If the other people aren’t available, they can go visit the offender afterwards to make it clear that such behaviour is not appreciated and amends must be made.

(I realise that while Niki can’t tell Jack, she actually has some VERY powerful allies now. But yeah, having more people there in general would help to prevent problems in the first place.)

3: This is less about Dream SMP (which actually is probably doomed to be kind of a chaotic mess due to the fact that conflict creates content) and more about the general trope because I can’t help responding to it every time:

The media in general tends to overestimate how prone to violence and destruction people would be without leadership. The example I like to give is natural disasters: in a major natural disaster, law and order tends to break down, often it takes a while for authorities to show up, there’s limited resources, there are immediate threats everywhere.... and usually what happens is that people help each other. Including complete strangers. Usually the first and most important rescue efforts are organised by the people who are right there, being hit by the disaster. The official rescue personnel would otherwise be too late for a LOT of people.

But people’s concept of what a world without laws and authority would look like is more like what happens as a reaction to authoritarian rule. For example the drug wars in Central America are directly linked to the War on Drugs in the USA. Extreme anti-drug policing enables organised crime. The Syrian Civil War was a response to Assad, made even worse by US intervention in Iraq which had already created ISIS which in turn was able to expand to Syria. And we’d be here all day if I tried to list all the wars and breakdowns of society caused by colonialism and its legacy.

4: Governments on the server really don’t have a great track record of stopping the kind of problems Jack brought up from happening. And in fact a lot of the time it’s the governments that do the stealing and griefing themselves. This tends to happen in real life too. Police brutality is a huge problem, because as it turns out, sometimes the asshole who comes and steals your stuff and kills your chicken decides to go into law enforcement first. And then you definitely can’t do anything about it, because who are you gonna call then? The police? (Sidenote: who do you call if the president is stealing your shit and calling it “taxes” lmao (Yes I’m talking about Tubbo in case it wasn’t clear))

Governments also start wars for resources, for territory, for straight up just reinforcing their own power. They usually allow some level of dissent, just to seem reasonable, but if the dissent gets loud and strong enough, they’re very quick to start persecuting activists, even if they have to come up with lies and excuses to do so.

Governments also prop up capitalism, which itself is exploitative and harmful in a systemic way. It might not reward physical power, but it rewards financial power. (I won’t go into it here because it’s a whole other tangent but capitalism pretty much requires some form of government and law enforcement to function, which is why “anarcho-capitalists” aren’t valid. Mutualists are though, mutualists are alright.)

And speaking of systemic power, it creates situations where even otherwise good people end up doing horrible things, because they’re just going along with the existing system. For example, denying disability benefits because someone doesn’t quite fit the requirements, deporting asylum seekers because they weren’t able to prove their lives were in danger, foreclosing on someone’s home because they weren’t able to make their payments...

Or more relevant to the Dream SMP: locking up a visitor in a max security cell for over a week, WITH the prisoner, because it’s what the prison protocol demands (Sam). (Not to even mention everyone who’s been drafted to carry out state violence against their will, like Tubbo, Ranboo and Techno at least, probably more.)

... Okay I’m kinda veering off topic here. But you get the idea. Governments and authority figures regularly fail to protect their people, in fact they’re often the CAUSE of the harm in the first place.

#asks #mt main #dream smp #jack manifold #nihachu #anarchy pog

96 notes · View notes

unmaskedagain · 5 years ago

Text

To all Guys a Chat Loved Before

Okay, this is it. I’ve been working on this story for over a week. It’s seventy pages and twenty thousand words. I basically wrote you a short story. Enjoy it. Review.

I’m not fond of Rom-Coms and rarely if ever watch Romantic movies. But there are a few that i’ve liked. So THROUGH OUT THIS i’ve sprinkled some of my favorite lines from my favorite romantic movies over the years. Some also came from tv shows. See if you can point them out.

This is Adrien-centered fic. It’s also slash.

Don’t you wish that people came with warning labels?

Adrien did. He wished more than anything because his life would be so much easier if everyone could see each other’s warning labels.

Bustier: Terrible teacher. Needs to please everyone. Hates confrontation.

Lila: Waring massive Liar, manipulative shrew.

His father: Workaholic, possible sociopath. Might be allergic to hugs and any affection whatsoever.

Adrien: A little needy. Emotionally scarred. Touch starved. Famous. Trust issues. Lacks some basic social skills. Probably going to be in therapy for the rest of his life. Likes to run around in a skintight leather bodysuit.

You know? The basics.

Okay, maybe that’s too much. Too personal. Fine. Whatever.

But at the very least, if he could meet someone and just know, you know?

Know that this is the one.

This is it.

This one.

They’re the one that’s gonna break your heart.

Adrien’s life would be so much easier if he could at least get that one warning.

Maybe he’d run the other way. But maybe he wouldn’t. Adrien had a terrible habit of always making the stupid choice.

Still, it would be nice to know before he gets into deep.

Before his heart isn’t just broken…

It's shattered beyond repair.

Iron’s Kid: When did you realize you weren’t like other guys?

Chat Galore: I was twelve. You?

The first time Adrien realized he might not be like other guys his age came AFTER he put on a magic ring and ran around Paris as a superhero in black spandex. And yes, that statement alone makes him realize how insane he sounds.

But in his defense…

Okay, there was no defense. He didn’t need to defend himself. There was nothing wrong with him. He knew that. There was nothing wrong with…

Iron’s Kid: Fourteen. And it took me completely by surprise. Like a bite in the neck.

Adrien always really liked his penpal. It had been Chloe’s idea. Adrien signed up when he was thirteen, anonymously, through a program at school and was given an American penpal the same age as him. The schools vetted all participants in the program for authenticity. They’ve never told each other their real names, never seen so much as a picture of one another, but still, Iron’s kid became one of the few people who knew him best.

The blond knew a lot about Iron’s Kid too. He even had a list.

Iron’s kid:

A year older than Adrien.

Huge geek like Adrien.

He was a guy.

He loved Legos

Said he had brown hair and eyes.

He was bisexual.

He was really funny.

Really smart. Like Genius smart.

He was an intern at Stark Industries.

He was a huge iron man fan and adored Spiderman a bit as any New Yorker did.

He loved superheroes and memes (like a lot) and stayed up late a lot.

He made as many puns as Adrien did as Chat Noir.

. They got along really well. They texted constantly. And, Iron’s Kid slowly became one of Adrien’s dearest friends. After the first year of being Penpals, Adrien asked if Iron’s Kid wanted to meet. The answer was no. Adrien asked Iron’s Kid at least once a year if they could meet up (or skype or trade pictures); the answer was always No. It was only after Adrien revealed that he was a supermodel, that Iron’s Kid revealed he had a famous face too and just wanted to be treated normally.

That did stop Adrien from still asking once a year. Iron’s Kid was one of the few people, outside of being Chat Noir that Adrien could just be himself with.

But unlike Iron’s Kid…

Honestly, Adrien always kind of knew, ya know?

He was always as into Harry Styles as Chloe was. Maybe a bit more.

When he binged watched Stranger Things with Marinette; he noticed Finn Wolfhard as much as the bluenette did.

Maybe, he noticed Kim’s biceps just a bit too much.

So he started to suspect early on.

He didn’t know for sure until…

Luka.

And that’s the worst (and craziest) part because knew Luka. He had been sort of, kind of, friends with the guitarist for quite some time. He had never even thought of the blue-haired boy like that.

Until one day, Adrien, Marinette, and Luka were playing video games after school. They were just laughing and chilling out like they always do. It was perfectly ordinary.

Then out of nowhere, Adrien noticed just how blue Luka’s eyes were. Then that was it. Suddenly the blond couldn’t help but think how cool Luka was, how funny he was, how artistic. And Adrien was really self-conscious. When Luka was in the same room as him, Adrien was hyper-aware of everything his own body was doing and everything he was saying.

It was like he existed outside it for a few seconds and was just watching the chaos.

How does my hair look?

Why did I JUST say that? No, don’t say that THAT’s even worse.

What is wrong with you?

Don’t stand like that! Who stands like that?

Does it look weird?

Am I being weird?

He totally thinks I’m weird.

Iron’s Kid: How could you NOT have seen Princess Bride?!!!!!?!!

Chat Galore: It doesn’t look like not my type of movie

Iron’s Kid: But you’ve seen the Labyrinth???!!! WTF

Chat Galore: It was my mom’s favorite movie!!! You haven’t seen vampire diaries yet!!!

Iron’s Kid: That is BESIDES the point. Princess Bride is a classic!!!!

Chat Galore: Oh just shut up

Iron’s Kid; As you wish.

Adrien slowly became a blushing, stuttering mess.

And he didn’t know how but somehow this was how Marinette figured it out what was going on.

“…You have a crush on Luka,” Marinette said slowly and quietly, one day after school as they sat in Marinette’s living room as if the words were as hard for her to get out as they were for him to hear.

The two had gotten closer as friends as a result of the Lila situation at school worsening. Once most of the class made it clear how quickly they were willing to drop Marinette for a shiny golden ticket; the blond and bluenette quickly washed their hands of the situation. They decided to let their ex-friends sink or swim on their own.

Adrien did not need fair-weather friends. Marinette was tired of being everyone’s doormat. They decided to sit in the back together and wait for the fireworks. Surprisingly, not long after Nino joined them. The glasses-wearing boy hadn’t cared if Lila was lying or not (though Adrien and Marinette would provide him with enough evidence to convince him later), he just knew that Marinette was his childhood friend and Adrien was his best friend. Nino trusted them, and sure wasn’t going to abandon them.

That was over a year ago. Marinette, Nino, and Adrien were best friends. Then the bluenette and the blond found out they were really Ladybug and Chat Noir effectively ending their crushes on each other. (Though Marinette took a bit longer)

“No!” Adrien said quickly. “I mean, I can’t, I, uh. I used to love Ladybug, remember!”

Marinette shrugged, “So? I dated Kagami for like three months last year, and I’d still wouldn’t say no to seven minutes in heaven with Luka. Or longer,” She smirked. “I used to like you. I’m bisexual; lots of people are.” She then tilted her head. “It’s okay if you like boys.”

Adrien glanced down shyly. At that point, He hadn’t thought too much about his sexuality. He always figured he was straight. It was the standard some people would say. But… Did he? Did he like-like other guys like that?

…He definitely liked Luka like that. But was it just Luka? Maybe Luka was special. And dreamy. And nice to look at. And he made Adrien’s stomach feel a little weird when he was around, “…I have a crush on Luka.”

“Everyone does,” Marinette nodded. “It’s a fact of life. He gets Kagami to blush. Chloe says he not completely awful. Hell, even Nino said, and I quote, ‘if I ever I had to pick a dude.’” She said but then her eyes widened as she looked at Adrien. “Wait! I just realized have you ever had a crush on a girl besides Ladybug? I never heard you talk about any. This is the first crush besides Ladybug.”

Adrien blinked and then blinked again. “I went out with Kagami once,” He offered, and then gave Marinette a playful glare. “Before you stole her away from me.”

“It’s not stealing if she practically jumped into my arms,” Marinette defended with a laugh. “Don’t hate the playa!”

The blond snorted.

“I mean, what did you like about Ladybug?” Marinette asked. “Not me! Not now. But before you knew that I was Ladybug. What did you like about her?”

Adrien bit his lip as he thought, “She was always fun to be around. When I was with her I never had to worry, you know? I could do what I wanted, say what I wanted. There was no pressure or anything. I was just me… but more. And I liked that. It was easy being around her.”

Marinette nodded, “Ladybug used to be the only one you could be free around,” She said. “As Chat Noir, you never had to censor yourself for fear of what your father would do. It was freedom. A type of freedom you always wanted; to be wild and carefree. You got to do that whenever you are Chat Noir, and whenever you were Chat Noir, Ladybug was there. Did you ever… you might’ve… I think you,” She sighed. “…Adrien, I don’t think you ever loved Ladybug. I think you loved how you got to feel when she was around. You might have equated the two.”

It went quiet as Adrien thought about what his friend said. It helped that his crush had been long gone so he could view it without the bias he used to have. And yeah, the more he thought about it, the more he realized Marinette was right. Adrien had been more infatuated with the fun and freedom of being a superhero, being Chat Noir that he ever was with Ladybug.

He also comprehended that His crush had ended it rather instantly the second he found out who was behind the mask. Marinette was amazing; the girl of most guys’ dreams. Yet Adrien just didn’t see her like that. He didn’t have romantic feelings for her. It was then he realized that no matter who was behind the mask, what girl, Adrien wouldn’t have been happy. “She wasn’t real to me,” He admitted. “Not really. Ladybug was this unattainable dream. Anything was possible with her. I got to think up outlandish fantasies all the time of what our future could be and nothing was too extreme or impossible. The second she became real, the fantasy ended, and… I didn’t want her anymore; not like that.” He told Marinette. “Don’t get me wrong, I love you! You’re practically my sister. You’re the best! But… It is strange, I know.”

Marinette shook her head, “It’s not!” She would know better than most what it was like when the fantasy ended and you had faced reality. “We’re kids. Feelings are all haywire.”

“It’ll get easier.” He asked. “I mean it has to. Soon, right?”

“No!” Sabine, Marinette’s mom, called from the kitchen. “Try in about a decade. If you’re lucky!”

“Mama!” Marinette yelled as she face-palmed. “Private conversation.”

“In our very public family room,” Sabine sassed back. “Adrien, honey, besides Luka, have you ever thought about any boys like that?”

Marinette just sighed.

Adrien turned bright red. He had more or less been adopted by the Dupain-chengs, and he was still getting used to having an involved parent. “I, uh, like Kim’s arms.”

“Who doesn’t?” Marinette asked. “Drool-worthy.”

“Harry Styles,” Adrien offered. “I like his face.” The bluenette snorted, earning herself a face full of the pillow. “Oh, you are so helpful!” After that, they erupted into a pillow fight.

Chat Galore: I’m late

Iron’s Kid: For what?

Chat Galore: Reality.

Iron’s Kid: Oooh someone’s feeling deep today. What’s up?

Chat Galore: I’m

Adrien paused writing.

Iron’s Kid: You’re…

Iron’s kid: Chat? You still there?

Chat Galore: I’m gay.

Chat Galore: You’re the first person I’ve told.

Iron’s Kid: I’m honored. And proud of you man.

Chat Galore: TY!!

Iron’s Kid: So who made you realize you were finally into Luka?

Chat Galore: …I hate you. GO AWAY!

Iron’s Kid: As you wish.

It took another month, and a lot of introspection but Adrien finally came to terms with it, and while getting ice cream with his friends, he said, “So, yeah, I’m gay.”

“And the sky’s blue,” Chloe shrugged.

Marinette elbowed, “That’s not how we’re supposed to react.”

The blonde huffed, “What? We’re supposed to pretend to be surprised. I’ve known him since we were in diapers. I was there through OUR One Direction phase. We were just little kids but just because he blocked it out or whatever doesn’t mean I forgot he called dips on marrying Harry.”

“All good, dude,” Nino told Adrien. “Still my boy.” He told him. “Does this mean you’re finally gonna ask out Luka?”

“NINO!” Marinette groaned. “I didn’t tell them. I swear!”

“What?” Nino licked his ice cream. “It was obvious Sunshine digs Luka.”

Adrien’s froze. “…How obvious?” Dread slowly crept onto his face.

His friends quickly went to assure him.

“It’s barely noticeable!” Marinette said.

“Everyone wants Luka; he probably doesn’t even realize it at this point!” Went, Nino.

“It’s not as obvious as the crush Marinette had on you!”

“Chloe! Seriously?!”

“What!”

Chat Galore: My friends suck as much as you!

Iron’s kid: Ahh, they call you out on the Luka thing too?

Chat Galore: Fuck off

Iron’s Kid: lol

Iron’s Kid: As you wish.

Adrien just groaned, seriously wishing the earth would just swallow him up. It was official all of his friends were completely awful.

Not long after he came out to his father, Nathalie, and Gorilla. His father barely blinked twice and told him not to make a fool of himself. Nathalie scheduled when he’ll announce it officially on twitter. Gorilla at least hugged him.

Lila attempted to convince the class that Adrien was just confused and hiding his feelings for her. But even that was a bit too much to buy. Instead, the class shot the Italian girl pitying looks for being in love with an unreachable guy. Lila seethed with fury as what she thought was her ticket to fame and fortune going up in flame.

Pretty much everything stayed normal though. There were no big fireworks. Adrien never confessed to Luka about his crush; instead joined his dozens of other admirers in mooning from a distance.

Adrien was fine with that. He wasn’t looking for anything for his life to radically change. Or to completely lose his mind over some guy (though he did come close with Luka). In fact, he was rather happy if that never happened.

But since when does he ever get what he wants?

Iron’s Kid: If you could punch anyone in the face, who would it be?

Chat Galore: What did Flash do now?

Chat Galore: And the answer’s: Lila. But Marinette has dips. And then Chloe. Then Kagami for some reason. I’m also after Nino, which doesn’t seem fair.

Chat Galore: …There’s a line to punch Lila.

Iron’s Kid: lol.

Iron’s Kid: Flash embarrassed me in front of Liz. He got everyone at this party chanting the stupid nickname he gave me.

Chat Galore: What a jerk? I vote revenge!

Iron’s Kid: What happened to the high road?

Chat Galore: It went nowhere. Time to light someone’s car on fire now.

Chat Galore: OOOOHHH!!!! Get MJ to put a porn virus on his computer! Let it hit during that school project you guys got next week.

Iron’s Kid: You’re a cruel man. And you and MJ are never allowed meet!

Chat Galore: Lol

Iron’s Kid: I can’t do that. Revenge isn’t my thing. I wouldn’t even care if Liz wasn’t there.

Chat Galore: You really like her, huh?

Iron’s Kid: Yeah I do

Adrien grinned at his phone. Iron had fallen hard for Liz a while back, and it was the cutest thing when he gushed over her. Plus it gave the blond some relief to know that there was someone as bad as him when it came to romance.

Iron’s Kid: So my dads suck

Chat Galore: We should start a club!

Iron’s kid: Lol.

Chat Galore: Your dad or your pops?

Iron’s Kid: Both. They totally freaked out on me! They’re so overprotective it is insane.

Chat Galore: Been there. Am there.

Iron’s Kid: Me and dad totally got into it. He thinks I’m reckless and stupid. Like I don’t know what I’m doing. I just wish he’d trust me

Chat Galore: Stop treating you like you’re a little kid?

Iron’s Kid: Exactly!!!!! I can do this! I know I can! If he just trusts me!

Iron’s Kid: Instead I’m grounded.

Chat Galore: What are you going to do?

Iron’s Kid: Whatever I have to!

Chat Galore: just be safe, ok? I don’t know what’s going on. And I know you can’t tell me. But just Be. Careful. I’d miss you.

Iron’s Kid: I’d miss you too.

Chat Galore: Goodnight!!

Iron’s Kid: As you wish.

It was Christmas. Adrien was staying with Marinette’s family while his father was away on business and avoiding all things happiness. Marinette told him that her Uncle was coming. Her dad’s great uncle from New York. He broke up with his boyfriend not too long ago and wanted to get out and see more of the world.

Adrien had expectations of what Marinette’s great uncle would look like – like any Uncle. Old, kind of fat, who made way to many dad jokes, and smelled like mothballs. And he definitely wore tacky clothes.

The guy who walked into the Dupain-Cheng home, following a laughing Tom Dupain, was NOT that guy!!

First of all, he was young; like two or three years older than Adrien and Marinette. He wore was pale with dark eyes and hair. He was dressed in all black and wore an old black leather bomber jacket. He was unnaturally handsome.

“Who is that?” Adrien hissed.

“My uncle,” Marinette said. “I told you he was coming.”

“How is that your great Uncle?”

Marinette shrugged, “Magic. Demigod. Prince of the Underworld. What can you do?” She said. “His name’s Nico.”

Adrien’s life was already so bizarre he didn’t even question the demigod part. All he could see what Nico. His mind turned to mush. “Boing!” He pointed.

“That’s my Uncle, Adrien,” Mariette reminded him

“Sweet! I would be your Aunt,” Adrien said. “Uncle. I don’t care. I’ll be whatever he wants me to be.”

Marinette laughed and got off the couch to greet the newcomer, “Uncle Nico!”

“Marinette!” Nico smiled as he hugged his niece. “I told you to call me Nico.”

“Uncle is a bit weird,” Marinette nodded in agreement as she let go.

As soon Nico let go, he found his arms full of again but this time by a blond, “Uncle Nico.”

“Adrien, right,” Nico said as he hugged the smaller boy, “I’m not your Uncle.”

“Even better!”

Marinette snorted and pulled her friend away.

Nico looked them up and down. “Aww, it’s good you two are still so close. I still got that picture your dad sent me of you two in Halloween costumes; Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.” He said. “Adorable. You two must have been, what eleven?” He shrugged and smiled at Adrien. “It’s been a while. You grew up gorgeous.” And then walked off to say hello to Sabine.

Adrien turned bright red and a big grin spread across his face.

Marinette crossed her arms, and gave him a serious look, “You are not going to be my Aunt.”

“I can’t hear you!” Adrien sang. “Buh dah Bu da da Da!”

“He’s almost eighteen; physically and mentally anyway!” Marinette said. “We’re fifteen.”

“Almost sixteen,” Adrien snapped quickly. “Which is practically seventeen. Which is a skip away from eighteen. Two plus Two, you know?”

Marinette rolled her eyes, “I know Two plus two equals four. But with your logic, two plus two is three with a wig on.”

He hissed at her.

Chat Galore: I think I found my Liz

Iron’s Kid: Someone Completely unattainable, and probably a bad idea?

Chat Galore: MJ or Ned?

Iron’s Kid: …

Chat Galore: Seriously? Give Iron back his phone!

Iron’s Kid:

Chat Galore: WAIT! What do you mean about Liz? What’s going on? Why is she a bad idea?

He would get a response an hour later. It was just after dark.

Iron’s Kid: Sorry! MJ took my phone!

Chat Galore: NP. What’s this about Liz?

Iron’s Kid: A good friend will ignore whatever MJ told you!

Chat Galore: A best friend’s gonna get answers out of you!

Adrien’s phone remained silent as he waited for Iron’s reply.

Iron’s Kid: ‘sigh’ Liz’s dad a supervillain. He tried to kill me.

Chat Galore: Shit. I’m sorry. Are you okay?

Iron’s Kid: It sucks. Liz’s dad in prison. She had to move.

Chat Galore: that blows

Iron’s Kid: Yep

Then Adrien did something daring; something he thought about doing before but just stops short of being brave enough.

He called Iron’s kid. It rang a few times before finally answering?

“Hello?”

“Iron’s kid?” Adrien whispered.

“Chat Galore?” Was said. “You called?”

“I thought you might need someone to talk to,” Adrien said. “Really talk to. It is fine if you don’t want to. I just thought…”

“No!” Was quickly said. “This is great. I mean, yeah. I’m cool with this if you are.”

They ended up talking to each other for hours like they always did. But this time it went on even longer; to the point where Adrien was genuinely surprised to see the sun starting to rise.

It was the first Adrien began to suspect he might be falling a little bit in love with Iron’s Kid.

It didn’t end there. As the weeks went on Iron Kid and Chat Galore kept texting and talking. Iron Kid was going through a hard time and Adrien just wanted to be there for him.

Iron’s Kid: It’s never been easy being me. I love my parents. But normal doesn’t exactly coincide with our last name

Chat Galore: It is like no one can look past it, right? They don’t see you, they see your name. It’s all they care about.

Iron’s kid: Exactly!!!!! Who I am doesn’t matter. Its who my dad is, who my pop’s is. Hell sometimes who my grandfather was, and he died way before I was even born. It’s not fair!

Chat Galore: And you never know if anyone likes you for you. Or if they just want something from you. Or from your dad. You just want people to see YOU for who you are!

Iron’s Kid: Makes it really hard to trust people. My parents always did their best to give me a normal life but

Iron’s Kid: it’s whatever I guess.

Chat Galore: It’s not whatever. And its okay to feel like this.

Iron’s Kid: It’s sometimes I feel a little lost. Or maybe just…

Iron’s Kid: I mean, I can be surrounded by a sea of people and still feel all alone. Like no one really knows me or sees me. Then I think of you. I think of talking to you. And I don’t feel so alone anymore.

Chat Galore: I see you.

Iron’s Kid: I see you too.

Then once more Adrien asked Iron’s Kid if he wanted to meet, even though he knew he’d be turned down. That was fine. Adrien would wait.

If Marinette thought it was over when the holidays ended, she was dead wrong. Nico got an apartment to stay in Paris and to spend time with his family.

And Adrien got used to his brain going all gooey when Nico was around. He always said goofy things; things that made him wish he’d never learned to speak in the first place. He read books that Nico casually mentioned just so they’d have something to talk about. He did ridiculous things try to get the older guy’s attention. And whenever, Nico asked the gang if anyone wanted to hang out, Adrien would be the first to shoot up and practically yell yes.

And all Adrien would get from Nico would be a placating smirk; the same type Nino would give his younger brothers’ when they did something outlandish to impress him.

The weird thing was when Adrien was going all googly-eyes at Nico, they got along really, really well. They both loved art and classic noir films like Gun For hire and Laura. The two once spent an entire afternoon in the museum just talking about the pieces, ignoring the whines of Marinette and Nino who got dragged along.

Still no matter what Adrien did Nico never took the hint to ask Adrien out. Or even hint that he was open to Adrien possibly asking him out.

His friends got used to Adrien sighing wistfully.

“Gods’ he so handsome, it makes my face hurt,” Adrien whined.

Marinette giggled, “You’re young, you’re dumb.”

“Just so we’re clear,” Chloe pointed a fork at him that still had a bit of salad on it, “That those are not necessarily correlated. You’re just an idiot.”

Nino leaned forward, “Bro, just ask him out!” He said with his mouth half full of pizza.

“I can’t do that!”

“Why not?” Marinette, Chloe, and Nino asked/yelled at him.

“What if he says no?” Adrien asked, because duh, why else wouldn’t he have asked Nico out already.

Chloe glared at him, “Then you look in the mirror and remind yourself that you’re the second hottest dude, around our age, in Paris?”

“Ahh, Luka’s first,” Marinette put in.

Nino raised his hand, “Just so we’re clear, I’m at least in the top ten, yeah?” Silence. “Guys? Top fifteen?” Nothing. “Top twenty?”

“Eehh,” Chloe offered as she flipped her hand side to side rapidly.

Nino grinned, “I’ll take it!”

It all came to a head during the Dupain-Cheng family game. Marinette invited Chloe, Nino, and Adrien, who had become Tom and Sabine’s additional adopted children, when Tom walked in, with Nico trailing behind him. “Family game night to the max!” Tom cheered.

Nico chuckled and gave everyone their hellos.

Marinette holding a hat on her lap, “Time to pick the games tonight: Mom, Chloe, and Nico’s turn to draw from the hat.

Sabine drew Uno.

Chloe drew Pictionary.

Nico drew dungeons and dragons which caused everyone in the room to groaned, “What?”

“That game always takes forever,” Nino whined.

Marinette flopped on the couch dramatically, “Mom’s always the dungeon master and she never lets us win. Dad always dies before anything good starts.”

“We always get frustrated,” Chloe added with an eye-roll. “And snap and try to kill each other!”

“In the game?” Nico asked.

Nino glared at his friends, “Not. Always. Marinette!” He called her out, and she had the decency to blush. “Some people walk with scars.”

“Mental and emotional ones,” Adrien winced. “Marinette.”

Chloe caught Nico’s confused look, and explained, “Marinette’s a bit competitive.”

“A bit!” Everyone else in the room said.

“Let’s just play!” Marinette gave them a playful glare.

Uno was fast. Marinette won, of course.

Pictionary resulted in tears. (Sabine was just as competitive as her daughter, and Tom was a bit sensitive.)

The Dungeons and Dragons came took hours. Tom died right away and was content to watch the show. The kids turned on each other by the second hour, and it took Nico’s taking leadership and forcing them all to work together to achieve victory, for the suffering to stop.

By the end, nearly everyone in the room was dead asleep, their characters long since dead, apart from Marinette, Sabine, Adrien, and Nico. Until the die was rolled for the final time and Marinette raised her tired arms in victory, “Finally. Six hours, friends came together on a harrowing quest; the longest game of my life. And we finally, finally won!”

Seconds after she was cuddled against her mother, both having fallen asleep.

Adrien gave them a sleepy smile from where he sat on the floor before every cell in his body suddenly felt like it was hit by lightning when he caught Nico’s dark eyes staring at him. It was then that Adrien realized that, with the others all asleep, this was the first time Nico and he were ever technically alone together.

Be cool, he thought. Just be cool, damn you.

It was all for naught as Nico got up off the couch and went to sit next to Adrien, who let out a small happy squeak.

“Let’s talk,” Nico told Adrien, who fought to stop his entire body from shaking. “We’re sort of friends, right?”

Adrien winced a little but nodded eagerly, “Yep, friends, totally. I’m happy being friends. Yeah, friendship!” He waved his fist around in a small cheer and died a little inside as soon as he did it.

Why am I such a loser, he asked himself.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Yes, sure,” Adrien said. “Anything. Whatever you want. You can ask me anything too. I’ll probably say yes. I’ll defiantly say yes. Yes!”

Nico just gave him a small smile, “When I was just about your age, maybe a bit younger, I had a crush on this older guy Percy. I was ten when I met him. He was fourteen, almost fifteen. In my eyes, he was all my dreams come to life; a real-life Greek demi-god hero. He fought monsters, saved lives. I had the biggest crush on him instantly,” He told Adrien. “Not that I knew it then. I was too young. I was from a completely different time where things like a man liking a man just were okay, or… Or Legal. I didn’t handle it well. Even worse after my sister died and wrongly placed at least part of the blame of unfairly on him. It took me a long time to realize I never hated him, I hated myself. I only stopped hating myself when I realized and accepted I was gay. And a little bit in love with Percy.”

Adrien had no idea where this was going but he listened intensely. He always enjoyed listening to Nico whenever he told tales about his life as a demigod.

“Still I ended up doing a lot of stupid things,” Nico said. “Just to get his attention, to help him; to get him to fall for me back. A lot of stupid things.” He chuckled. “When I found out he was Bi, I thought I had a chance. But I didn’t. I never would’ve. Percy just saw me as a brother. I was too young for him. Way too young. There was no way Percy could’ve ever seen me like that. I accepted that. I moved on. I got over him. I even admitted to him about my crush; after telling him that he wasn’t my type. Asshole fell down laughing.”

Adrien laughed a bit.

“We’re still friends,” Nico added. “Great friends actually. And I’m glad. Do you know why I’m telling you this?”

The blond frowned and suddenly found the game board very interesting. Because, yes he did know why Nico was telling him this.

“You know I’m too told for you, right?” Nico asked quietly as to not wake up the others.

“Yeah,” Adrien nodded slowly, his throat felt a little dry, and his eyes stung. “I know. I kind of always knew.” He glanced at the Dungeons and Dragons, and a strange sense of hope-filled him. The blond shot the older dark-haired boy a smirk, “But I’m playing the long game.”

Adrien tried to be hopeful about it. Or least pretend to but…

Chat Galore: I just got my heartbroken.

Iron’s Kid: That Douchebag. I knew that weird death kid was no good!

Chat Galore: He’s not that bad. He said I’m too young for him. I get he’s trying to be a good guy but…

Iron’s Kid: It still hurts.

Chat Galore: Yep

Iron’s Kid: I get that. How about we watch Star Wars and make fun of Kylo Ren, that’ll make you feel better!

Chat Galore: I’ve seen less teen angst in my high school. The dude has problems!

And that’s what they did. They texted each other while watching Star Wars: The Force Awakens; sending each other stupid memes and jokes. And Adrien felt a lot better by the end it of it.

Chat Galore: Thanks for this btw. I think I really need this.

Iron’s Kid: No Problem

Iron’s Kid: And for what it’s worth, I’d never turn you down.

Adrien stared at that message for an hour, mentally screaming. Because… What. The. Hell.

Chat Galore: Oh be quiet! Lol

Iron’s Kid: As you wish.

The next day, Adrien sent Iron’s Kid another request to meet. The answer was a simple: Not Yet. That was Fine. Adrien would wait.`

“You are not playing the long game, Adrien Agreste,” Chloe glared at him. “Do you hear me? I will not take this into my twenties.”

They had talked Adrien into ditching one of his many lessons and were hanging out downtown. Eating ice cream.

“But!”

“No!”

“I agree with her man,” Nino said, and Adrien gave him big green puppy dog eyes. “You can spend your life swooning over some guy. There’s other fish in the sea.”

“I don’t want fish,” Adrien complained. “I just someone to ride the Ferris Wheel with me!”

“Ferris Wheel?” Nino asked confused.

“Gay culture,” Chloe explained.

Marinette nodded, “We just mean that… You need to Get some more life skills. Learn how to talk to guys. Get cool!”

“I’m cool!” Adrien defended and was met with multiple snorts. “I am. I got my dad to let me have more freedom. I paint. I went to comic con last year. I ride the metro now. And I can talk guys. I’ve successfully learned how to be cool.”

Chloe smirked, “Okay, let's see how you react when you see him,” She looked over his shoulder. “Guy’s been checking you out since we got here.”

“I’m cool,” Adrien said as he casually glanced over his shoulder and saw just who was checking him out, he let out a series of nervous chuckles. And couldn’t stop.

The guy looked about his age, with dark hair and blue eyes, a jawline that was similar to ones Adrien’s had seen on Greek statues; and he had muscles, so many muscles. He sat on a park bench and was writing or sketching in a red notebook.

Nino shook his head, “Yeah you still need some lessons in cool.”

“Lesson one: go talk to him,” Chloe demanded.

Adrien’s eyes went wide, and he let out a squeak. “Nope! Can’t do it. Won’t do it!”

His friends shared a look, and Adrien suddenly fears for his life. He found himself all but pushed/carried over to the guy on the park bench. He struggled a bit. Suddenly when they got close enough, Adrien was pushed (By gleeful and vindictive looking Chloe, his official witch of an ex-best friend), right into park bench guy, who caught him at the last second. And Adrien found himself sitting in the lap of a virtual stranger.

“Hi?” Adrien offered weakly. “Me and my friends were just talking about you.”

The guy gave him a big smile, “I know,” He said. “I figured. I’m Jon.” He said with a southern American accent. “Jon Kent. And you can talk about me any time you want.”

“Adrien,” The blond laughed. “Adrien Agreste.”

“I like your laugh, Adrien.”

“I like your smile, Jon.”

Then Adrien’s phone started ringing. It was Nathalie and Adrien had to rush home. Mourning his chances of ever seeing Jon again. He was probably a tourist who’d be gone the next day, the blond figured.

Chat Galore: I have the worst luck with guys!

Iron’s Kid: I don’t know. I think you have better luck than you think.

Chat Galore: Lol. What’s up with you lately.

Iron’s Kid: Flash finally left me alone. All it took was a school field trip to my job. Suddenly I’m not a liar anymore!

Chat Galore: Oh I would’ve killed to his face, lol.

Iron’s Kid: It was basically the crying emoji.

Iron’s Kid: Oh yeah, I met this guy named Johnny; totally gorgeous, rides a motorcycle, and my dads’ hate him

Chat Galore: Last ones’s the best part, right?

Iron’s Kid: YES!!

The next morning Adrien and his friends were happily sitting in the back of the class. The other kids in the class ignored them as usual. Even Lila more or less pretended they didn’t exist. (Though she had been reluctant to let Adrien go and had made several attempts to get him under her thumb. Until Adrien got his dad to fire her under threat of dying his hair neon green, and wearing plaid, the one pattern his father hated above all others.)

They had entered a cold war with her. As long as she stopped trying to make their lives hell, they’d stop exposing trying to expose her.

Bustier was once again proving she had no control over her classroom as she struggled to teach a simple history lesson about the French Revolution. It didn’t make a lick of sense and Bustier tried way to hard to get the kids to relate on a personal level.

“History shows that bad things happen when you don’t know who you are,” Bustier said just as the classroom door opened and in walked two boys and a girl.

Adrien’s eyes went wide, and leaned over to Chloe, “Park bench guy!” He whispered.

“Foreign exchange students,” One of the boys said. He had dark hair, green eyes, olive skin, and a thoroughly unimpressed look on his handsome face. He wore a black turtle neck and slacks. “Damian Wayne, Gotham.”

“Lian Nguyen-Harper-Queen,” Said the girl. She had Auburn hair and gray eyes. Lian wore a pink headband, a pink cardigan over a white top and blue shorts.

“Hi I’m Jon Kent,” He said. Jon wore a red plaid shirt over a simple t-shirt and blue jeans. “I split my time between the Farm in Smallville and Metropolis.” He looked at the back of the classroom straight at Adrien. “And I’m happy to be here.”

Bustier nodded, “Welcome. Always happy to get new students! Let's find you some seats…” She looked around the room.

“OH! Damian can sit with me!” Lila waved her hand. “I’ll be happy to show him around.”

“Declined,” Damian simply said. “We’ll sit in the back.”

Alya leaned forward, “But Lila’s goes to Gotham and Metropolis all the time!” She said and didn’t notice the way Lila paled. She seemed to have forgotten Damian Wayne was apart of her many, many lies. “Damian, you showed her around last time she was there. You guys became such a good friend. She just wants to return the favor.”

Damian scoffed, “I’ve never seen this girl before in my life.”

Marinette smirked at Adrien, “You’re going to need to move. I have a new best friend.”

“Mean,” Adrien said. “But understandable. Still not moving.”

Jon and Damian sat in empty seats in front of Adrien and Marinette.

Jon turned around in his seat, “Hi.”

Adrien smiled shyly, “Hi.”

Then they just stared at each other.

Chloe let out a long-suffering sigh, “Oh this gonna be exhausting.”

Iron’s Kid: Best day EVER!!!

Chat Galore: SAME! What happened?

Iron’s Kid: Johnny asked me out!

Chat Galore: AWESOME!!!

Chat Galore: Park Bench Guy is in my class NOW!!!

Iron’s Kid: ‘High Five’ Maybe fate DOESN’T hate us.

Chat Galore: …

Chat Galore: …I swear to the Gods if you jinxed us

The two guys in class quickly joined the Adrien’s friends’ group. They blended in seamlessly like they were always there as the weeks went on. Before anyone knew it, they were pretty much attached to hips. Even going as far as joining family game night.

Through them; Damian, Lian, and Jon were able to get all the information they needed to survive Paris. The three had heard whispers of Hawkmoth but had been a little shocked when the Akuma alert went off and everyone had to duck for cover. After the third or fourth time, the new kids got used to it and easily swallowed the excuses Marinette, Adrien, Chloe, and Nino made about having to run off and go home during alerts.

Around the same time as the fourth akuma of the new semester hit, three new heroes arrived in Paris.

Well, new wouldn’t necessarily be the right word. They weren’t new heroes, they were just new to Paris.

Robin, Superboy, and Arrowette. They assisted in fighting back akuma that turned people into candy; a toddler whose mother refused to buy him sweets. Afterward, they explained that they would be in the city for quite some time, and would assist when they are able.

They didn’t reveal why they were there though. All Robin said was, “Justice League business.” And the Parisian heroes decided to leave it at that after offering to help if needed.

Paris went nuts over the arrival of the new heroes.

Alya cried in class when she found out Ladybug gave Aurore the exclusive interview about what was going on. Ladybug also publically endorsed Bugout, Aurore’s website, as the only reliable main source for credible information on the Parisian heroes. She didn’t say a word about Ladyblog, which was pretty much all anyone needed to know what they had already expected.

Ladybug hadn’t given an exclusive on the Ladybug blog in almost two years but now it was official…

The Ladyblog was out. Alya was out.

Time went on. The kids grew closer as friends. Jon and Adrien got closer as… Well, Adrien didn’t know.

He did know that his dad despised Jon because of time he picked Adrien up wearing a green plaid shirt but Gabriel wouldn’t admit it. Jon was the son of famous reporters Lois Lane and Clark Kent, godson to Lex Luther. And Gabriel Agreste was anything but stupid.

“I miss my family,” Jon told Adrien one day while they were studying in the library. “All the time. But I guess also miss the pets I have.”

“I always wanted a dog,” Adrien said.

“In Smallville, I have twelve chickens,” Jon said. “Three horses, four pigs, two cows, and a dog.”

The blond nodded, “You win. Tell me about them.”

And Jon did. He told all about his life in Smallville and metropolis. And Adrien told him what it was like growing up in Paris and being a supermodel.

Adrien grinned, “I want to be a lawyer when I get older,” he told Jon. “I want to fight for people who can’t fight for themselves. Like I read about this law firm called Nelson and Murdock who take all these pro bono cases to help people who usually have no chance of winning against bigger, bad-er, and richer people. It gets really dangerous for them but they just keep helping. Because it’s the right thing to do. I want to do that too!”

“I think when I grow up…” Jon said slowly. “I want to be like my mom. She goes above and beyond to get her story; to find out what’s really going on in the world and reports it honestly. I want to do that too. I want to be an investigative journalist. I want to hunt down the truth. Because people deserve the truth, even if they don’t like it. I know the truth can be scary sometimes, and a bit sad. But They deserve to hear it. But I’ve probably said too much.” He laughed.

“No,” Adrien shook his head, and smiled, “Tell me more.”

Still the more their friendship and bonds of trust grew, the more Lila became frustrated. As far as she was concerned things just weren’t going her way. First, she lost her future as the world-famous fashion model Lila Rossi/Mrs. Adrien Agreste. Then Damian Waynes comes to town and won’t even look twice at her; too busy trailing after Miss Goody two-shoes. Then she finds out that Jon Kent is the son of Lois Lane and Clark Kent, godson of Lex Luther, only AFTER she privately threatened to make his life hell for siding with Marinette. She didn’t bother to try to get close to Lian Queen, granddaughter of Oliver Queen, the girl had been glaring at her since the second she heard Lila tell her first lie.

So instead of The Italian girl, once again, tried to sow dissension in the class, tried to force Damian to sit next to her; loudly bragged about her trips and famous people she knew to get attention. Damian ignored her. Then she tried making Marinette look bad again; lied about how the bluenette was bullying her. It didn’t work. Damian was quick to point out inconsistencies in her tales.

That didn’t stop the class from believing them.

“Morons,” Damian called them one day after school.

“They’re not that bad,” Marinette tried.

“They kinda are, dudette,” Nino said. “I really expected Alya to catch on by now. But it’s like she doesn’t want to.”

Chloe scoffed, “Of course she doesn’t!” The blond sneered. “She betrayed her best friend, ditched her best friend, broke up with her boyfriend, pretty much led the charge in exiling us, spread Lila’s lies on her blog which included Lies about Ladybug. It’s not just admitting she was wrong.”

“It’s having to deal with consequences,” Lian agreed. “That Alya got herself into this mess. If Marinette and all us aren’t the bad guys in this, that means she is. That’s a hard pill to swallow.”

Jon shook his head, “I don’t understand why Lila lies so much,” he said. “Dad’s always told me honesty is the best policy.”

“You’re a long way from the farm, boy scout,” Damian tsk’d.

“Damian,” Marinette sighed and grabbed the boy’s hand and pulled him away.

Adrien snickered, “Those two are so into each other, it’s not even funny!”

“I know,” Jon laughed in agreement. “I’ve never seen Damian be so nice to anyone before. I’ve known him since we were in the sandbox, and he just stopped calling me Kent last year.”

“Yeah…” Chloe drawled. “Watching two people dance around each other for months, neither making a move. It’s the worst.”

“Waiting for one of them to finally make a move,” Nino said, “Literally. Kill. You. Inside.”

Lian nodded, “They like each other. Everyone knows they like each other. And Yet nothing. And we'll have no choice but watch and wait for them to pull their heads out of their asses,” She told them. “When all you want to scream is: hey, you two! Just freaking kiss already!”

“Yep the absolute worst,” Nino repeated.

Then Lian, Chloe, and Nino stared blatantly at Jon and Adrien who merely shrugged.

“Damian will make a move soon,” Jon assured.

“I’ll try to get Marinette to say something,” Adrien promised.

“…I hate you,” Chloe said.

Adrien gave her another confused look. Because what did he do wrong now?

Chat Galore: Dude!

Iron’s Kid: Dude!

Chat Galore: I need Hufflepuff support now!

Iron’s Kid: …Crap, I never told you Pottermore sorted me into Gryffindor, did i?

Chat Galore: WHAT!

Chat Galore: Traitor. Never talk to me again

Iron’s Kid: As you wish.

“How do I look?” Marinette asked as she twirled around in the living room. She wore a soft pink dress. Her hair was down and slightly curved. She looked like a princess from a fairytale.

“Flawless,” Adrien said, for the tenth time. “Why am I here?”

Marinette narrowed her eyes at him, “Because!” She said. “You’re my bestie. I have my first real date. Chloe’s shopping with Lian. Nino won’t answer my calls. I need you here!”

“Take a deep breath, Mari!” Adrien told her. “You look absolutely beautiful. Damian’s already head over heels for you, and the way you look is gonna make his purpose.”

The bluenette blushed a lovely pink, “Shut up!”

The door opened, and in walked Nico, “Looking lovely, niece,” He said. “Big date tonight, huh?”

“Yes,” Marinette sighed dreamily. “He’ll be here soon.”

Nico smirked, “Good. Don’t worry, I’ll only threaten him a little.”

“Nico!”

The dark-haired boy chuckled before flopping down on the couch. “Hey, Adrien.”

Adrien felt his mind go a little mushy. He never quite got over his crush on the older boy. At least not yet.

The two still hung out every now and then, still always with Marinette. Nico frequently split his time between New York and Paris. So Adrien didn’t see him that often, though Nico had been around to wish Adrien a happy 16th birthday.

Adrien tried to play it cool, but ended up sitting in awkwardly in the recliner, “Hey Nico!” His voice squeaked, and once more Adrien wanted to die.

The doorbell rang.

Damian brought Marinette a dozen red roses, let himself be mildly threatened by Nico, endured the massive amount of pictures Tom and Sabine took and ignored Adrien’s snickering in the background. Then the two love birds were gone. Sabine and Tom went to go finish closing the bakery for the night. And then it was just Adrien and Nico.

“So,” Nico said as he put his feet on the couch. “What are you doing tonight, Blond Wonder? Any plans?”

Adrien shook his head, “Not really,” Jon was visiting his parents. Nino was watching his siblings. “I’ll just go home and watch Bleach. Or something.” Stuff his mouth with the hidden box of Oreos he had.

“Why don’t you hang out with me?” Nico offered. “The Maltese Falcon at the old theater on 3rd street. It’s your favorite right?”

Adrien nodded eagerly, “Me and my Mom used to watch it all the time.”

The two had a great time at the movie theater and ended up staying to watch another movie. They laughed. They ate lots of overpriced junk food. They talked. And Adrien finally managed to have a non-blushing, stammering, mind mushed, conversation with Nico. It was still just a bit awkward but it was not the cause of something either of them did.

At the end, Nico walked Adrien to the front door of his house.

“It’s weird,” Nico said, “But I kind of always forget how great it is hanging out with you.”

Adrien shrugged, “You’re not too bad yourself,” Then he smirked, “Though you’d probably be happier if you add some color to your wardrobe. Do own anything that’s not the color of sadness?”

Nico barked a laugh, “I am the son of Hades,” He defended himself. “It’s our aesthetic, okay. And we all can’t be made from rainbows and sunshine.”

“Excuses.”

The dark-haired boy shook his head, and smirked at Adrien, “This was fun. We should do it again sometime.” He said as he backed away.

“Yeah,” Adrien smiled. “Go to the beach, see what happens when you go out in the daylight. Even money, you burst into flames.

Nico chuckled as he turned around, “Goodnight, Sunshine.”

“Night, Twilight!”

“You’re dead to me!” Nico called back.

Ladybug and Chat Noir and the other Parisian heroes got used to the Three Justice League sidekicks appearing out of nowhere and assisting in battle. It had been strange at first; a little tense. Mostly due to Robin interrogating them every chance he got. Arrowette glaring menacingly at them. Even Superboy was a bit intimidating. Still, they never revealed why there in Paris.

During this time, Adrien and Jon became much better friends. And the blond started to suspect that Jon would prefer to just stay friends with him.

Iron’s Kid: Johnny and Me are over.

Chat Galore: Ouch. What happened?

Iron’s Kid: ‘Dramatic Sigh’ we’re just too different, you know?

Chat Galore: Different is not always bad. You really liked him, right?

Chat Galore: And did you actually type ‘Dramatic Sigh’, you dramatic bitch?

Iron’s Kid: I like that he was different at first. But we barely had anything in common. We were fire in and ice. Sure it is steamy at first but when the steam is gone…

Iron’s Kid: And yes I did

Chat Galore: You okay?

Iron’s Kid: I’m fine. I just realized I want someone I can talk to about everything and nothing.

Chat Galore: Someone to geek out over Star Trek with, and go to when you need a shoulder to lean on.

Iron’s Kid: Someone who’d stay up all night talking just because he wants to be there for me.

Chat Galore: Dating shouldn’t be this hard

Iron’s Kid: It’ll only get harder.

Chat Galore: Shut. Up.

Iron’s Kid: As you wish.

For Marinette’s sixteenth birthday, she had a party. It was much bigger than she wanted, but not smaller than her friends tried to make it. The bluenette was always there for them, and they wanted to remind her how special was.

However, for the first time, Adrien was pleased to say, he was not the one trying to overdue everything to the extreme. Chloe was pleased that she wasn’t the one making the party planner cry whenever she called them. Nino was pleased that he wasn’t the one to be overly critical of the musical entertainment for being just a bit subpar.

No! That was Damian Wayne.

And unlike Marinette’s best friends, Marinette’s boyfriend’s craziness could not be contained.

The party was huge. There were hundreds of balloons. Everyone was wearing fanciest party clothes. There were hundreds of balloons. Gourmet food. All of Marinette’s friends, close acquaintances, and anyone who loved and or adored her had shown up. Jagged had come. Cara Nightingale did a surprise performance.

Adrien had a blast. His friends found out that while the blond boy had lessons in practically everything, dance wasn’t one of them. He was a terrible dancer. Laughably bad. Still, everyone had fun. Nino danced in a giant glow in the dark dinosaur costume.

Then Marinette, Adrien, Nino, Chloe got on stage and sang Born to Brave from High School Musical: The Series. Damian, Jon, and Lian joined them. The crowd sang with. Bubbles filled the air. It was exhilarating.

So much so that Adrien stepped out to take a small break. He sat on a white wood bench outside, looking up at the stars, and let the cool brisk night air relax him. Even from where he sat, he could still hear music playing from the party.

“Needed a breather,” Jon asked as he sat down next to Adrien.

“Parties,” Adrien shrugged. “They can be a bit much.”

Jon shifted in his seat, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess.”

Then Blue eyes met green…

And then everything suddenly felt really the world was holdings breath. Adrien had no idea where the tension came from but it was there. And it was like he was waiting for some imaginary bubble to burst. And Adrien just… Ugh!

He glanced down at his hands, suddenly not knowing what to do with them. He was also intensely aware of every millimeter Jon so much as moved. In fact, Adrien was aware of everything, including how many times he was blinking.

“This kind of reminds me of how we met,” Adrien finally blurted.

Jon cast him a curious look but nodded, “Yeah, the park bench, right?”

“Mmhmm.”

There it went quiet.

“Why are parties a bit much?” Jon asked.

“Not all parties,” Adrien said. “Just the ones my dad usually drags me to. Everyone is always overly polite while giving backhanded compliments; they pretend to be nice but they don’t mean it. No one’s straight forward. I don’t know why it is so hard.”

“It’s not!” Jon turned to him. “Let’s try it now. Hi, I’m Jon and…” He took two plugs out of his ears, “…I wear earplugs because I can’t handle loud noises sometimes.”

Adrien chuckled, “Hi. I’m Adrien. And apparently, I’m a terrible dancer.”

“God Awful!”

“Hey!”

Jon laughed, “My little Pony is one my favorite shows.

“I once had an imaginary friend named Phineas!”

“I like fried broccoli!”

“I like fried Oreos.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Oh because fried broccoli so much better.”

“Hey, being straight forward here!” Jon defended. “I like raining days over sunny.”

Adrien smiled, “I like you,” he took a deep breath. “Like really like you.” He glanced down and then back up at Jon and tried to be brave. “Like I the way I thought you might’ve used to like me but don’t anymore.”

“Really?” Jon asked looking just a bit stunned. “How very straight forward of you.”

Adrien stood up quickly, slightly panicked, “That’s it. That’s all I wanted to say. If you don’t like me anymore, I get it.” He said. “I… I just really wanted you to tell you. Even if you change your mind.”

“Adrien,” Jon said, standing up too, facing the blond. “I’ve never changed my mind.” Then he leaned forward and kissed Adrien. “I really like you too.”

Adrien and Jon held hands as they walked back into the party.

Later, after the party ended, Adrien would tell Marinette, Chloe, and Nino about his first kiss, and go partially death from Marinette and Chloe’s screams.

Chat Galore: You know what I like?

Chat Galore: Life!

Iron’s Kid: Things going good then?

Chat Galore: Jon kissed me. My grades are perfect. My dad’s letting me cut back on modeling.

Iron’s Kid: Awesome! You’ve need a break.

Chat Galore: We need a happy song!

Iron’s Kid: We. Do. Not.

Chat Galore: We need a happy song so when we can sing the happy song when we’re happy.

Iron’s Kid: We will never have a happy song.

Iron’s Kid: That’s more of a Hufflepuff thing

Chat Galore: I’d be offended if it wasn’t true!

Adrien’s life really was going great. He became good friends with Nico. Lila’s lies in the class were starting to unravel, and she was quickly losing her supporters. Jon and him were sort of, kind of, officially dating. The sun was shining. Rainbows were everywhere.

…He should’ve known it wouldn’t last forever.

Adrien got a 911 group text from Chloe; with like a dozen exclamation points and several frowny faces so he knew it was serious.

When he got to Chloe’s place, he found Marinette and Nino already waiting on the couch, while Chloe paced the floor. Adrien joined on the couch.

“Okay,” Marinette said. “We’re all here. What’s up? What’s the emergency?”

“They’re spies,” Chloe hissed, rage clear on her face. “Lian, Jon, Damian; they’ve been spying on us all this time.”

“What? Dude, no way!” Nino shook his head. “They’re our friends. Lian hates traitors!”

“Damian would never!” Marinette denied. “He loves me. I love him.”

Adrien agreed, “They’d never do that us. Jon couldn’t. He’s like the most honest kid ever.”

Chloe picked up a nearby face and smashed against the wall, “They’re two-faced lying little creeps.” She yelled. Though it was clear she was angry, they could also see the hurt clear in the blonde’s eyes.

“Chloe…” Marinette started slowly but was cut off.”

“Lian is Arrowette!” Chloe growled. “Jon’s Superboy. And I’ll give you one big fat guess who Damian is. And for the record he is not as wonderful as his nickname implies.”

Pollen flew out from wherever she was hiding, “It’s true!” She said. “I saw them myself. They are the American heroes.”

“Pollen followed them,” Chloe explained. “She saw everything. They’ve been following us. Reporting intel to the Justice League all about us. That��s why they’re here. That’s why they got close to us. They know we’re heroes!”

Horror and understandingly slowly crept over Nino, Marinette, and Adrien’s faces.

Pollen nodded eagerly, “They have reports all about your lives in and out of the mask. It's very detailed.”

Adrien was glad he was sitting down because he felt like the floor has disappeared under his feet. Shakily, he stood up, “I need too…” He shook his head. “I have too…” He couldn’t finish his sentence instead he just ran from the room.

And kept running and running.

Until he found himself standing in front of the apartment where Jon, Lian, and Damian lived. He stared at the olive green door as if he didn’t recognize it. As if he hadn’t been there, in that same spot, standing in front of that door, a hundred times before.

He closed his eyes and he knocked.

Jon opened the door, “Adrien!” He had a large grin on his face that slowly disappeared when he saw the look on the blond boy’s face.

“Can I come in?”

“Sure, yeah!” Jon moved out of the way to let Adrien pass. “Is everything okay?”

Adrien walked into the living room and saw Damian and Lian sitting on the couch, “Go see Marinette,” He ordered Damian. “If you want any chance of saving your relationship, if you ever really loved her like you said you; you will go see Her. Right. Now.”

That was all Damian needed to here to fly out of the room.

Adrien turned to Lian, “I need to speak with Jon alone, please,” He said as politely as possible. “I would suggest going to go speak with Nino and Chloe.”

Lian frowned but nodded and left the room.

“Adrien, what’s going on?” Jon asked again. “You’re scaring me.”

Adrien let out a shorter bitter laugh, “I’m going to ask you three questions, and I need to be honest with me, okay? Is your name Jon Kent?

“Yes,” Jon stated firmly. “Jonathan Kent Lane.”

“Are we friends?”

“Of course!”

Adrien nodded and swallowed the lump that was building in his throat, “Why did you really come to Paris?”

Jon frowned, “I’m here on a foreign exchange-” Adrien cut him off.

“Don’t lie to me, Superboy!”

The boy of Steel flinched back.

“Tell me it isn’t true!” Adrien all but begged. “Tell me you didn’t come here to spy on Chat Noir and Ladybug and everyone else. Tell me this wasn’t all a big lie. Tell me you weren’t using me for information. Tell me! Tell me wrong I’m, please.”

“Adrien…” Jon whispered, pain on his face. “I’m sorry.”

That was Adrien needed to here. “All this time. You… I thought… Was any of it real? Was anything you ever told me real? Do I even know you?” He asked. “

“The Justice League was concerned about Hawkmoth,” Jon tried to explain. “They received intelligence that Ladybug and Chat Noir were teenagers, and wanted to know more. They sent us.”

Adrien just stared at him, “I like you,” He said. “I really liked you. You were my friend, Did you do all just because you were ordered to?”

“No!” Jon nodded, “I swear. I’d never do that to you, to anyone.”

“But you thought it was okay to kiss me,” Adrien said “To date me! When I had no idea who you are really?”

Jon tossed his hands in the air, “You know who I am. Nothing’s changed. I’m still the same guy. I’m still me!”

“Everything’s changed!” Adrien yelled. “I’m questioning everything. Everything I’ve ever said to you, everything we ever did together!” His entire body shook. “You were sent to get close to us. You were sent to get close to me. To. Get. Information.”

It went quiet. Neither knowing what to say.

“…That day in the park,” Adrien whispered. “You were on the bench and Chloe thought you were checking me out. You weren’t, were you? You were watching me, us. Gathering intel. Weren’t you?”

Jon looked away, “…Yeah, I was.”

You knew I was Chat Noir even then?”

“I did.”

Adrien nodded, “It’s been a lie since the beginning,” He clenched his fists. “In the library, you told me that people deserve the truth. I believed in you. I trusted you. I told you things I’ve haven’t even told people who’ve known my entire life. Because I trusted you. I trusted you were honest and good and you would tell me the truth. Why didn’t I deserve the truth?”

He looked up at the mantle that was covered in pictures of people that Adrien knew as friends and family of Jon, Damian, and Lian, and at all of the pictures of Chloe, Nino, Adrien, and Marinette together with the three; laughing and smiling. And it hurt to look at it. “You’ve been here for almost a year. You three pretended to be our friends, to care, for almost a year.”

“It wasn’t pretend. Or a lie,” Jon looked ready to cry. “You are our friends!”

Adrien ran a hand through his hair, “Then Why? If we were your friends, why?”

Jon shrugged, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say. Everything was so complicated. We were never supposed to be here this long. It was our first big mission. The first mission JL trusted us to handle alone. I could give you a thousand excuses but I know they wouldn’t be good enough.”

“They wouldn’t be,” Adrien agreed. “They aren’t. They never will be.”

It went silent again. Jon and Adrien just stared at each other.

“You weren’t sent to get close us,” Adrien repeated. “Not just learn about Hawkmoth. But you were specifically sent to get close us; learn who we are as heroes and as civilians. Hawkmoth was a bonus. But you were sent for Ladybug and Chat Noir and Queen Bee and Carapace. Right?”

Jon looked down, away from Adrien’s soul-piercing gaze, and admitted, “You were the mission.”

Adrien closed his eyes, stood up straight, and with every ounce of control he could muster, he calmly said, “Goodbye, Jon.”

“I never meant to hurt you,” Jon said.

“That doesn’t really matter, because, in the end, it all hurts the same,” Adrien replied and left.

For the next few hours, Jon saying, “You were the mission,” Kept echoing in Adrien’s head on a loop.

Not long after leaving Jon’s place, Adrien would find himself in Marinette’s room, letting the bluenette cry her eyes out into his shoulder, shedding his own tears too. Chloe would arrive next with bloodshot eyes, and cuddle next to them. Nino, just after her, looking like a wreck and would take the spot next to Adrien.

It would be hours before they’d calm themselves down. But it wouldn’t be until the next day that any of them managed to ask what they should next.

Chloe spitefully suggested kicking them out of Paris.

Nino agreed halfheartedly.

Adrien was fine with just ignoring them. At least he hoped that he could. He would try really, really hard to.

Marinette didn’t say a word. Instead, she just let them talk with a faraway look on her face.

In the end, it wouldn’t matter.

By Monday, Jon, Damian, and Lian would be gone. Bustier would announce that the exchange program ended.

And Adrien would find himself frequently staring at Jon’s empty seat.

Chat Galore: So it turns out… Jon’s a big jerk

Chat Galore: He wasn’t who I thought he was.

Chat Galore: It’s complicated but to summarize he’s a jerk.

Iron’s Kid: Screw Prince Charming if he turned out to be a warty, jerky frog.

Iron’s Kid: You deserve better.

Chat Galore: To quote Gabriella Montez: Now I know you're not a fairy tale And dreams were meant for sleeping And wishes on a star Just don't come true

Iron’s Kid: Crap, you're quoting high school musical. You're really hurting, aren’t you.

Iron’s Kids: Want to watch shitty Disney Channel movies and talk?

Chat Galore: …Yes.

Three months, two weeks, six days, nine hours, and twelve minutes. That was how long it took for Adrien to move on. For all of them to move on from the sense of betrayal.

Iron’s Kid: YOU STILL HAVEN’T WATCHED PRINCESS BRIDE

Chat Galore: It doesn’t seem like that good of a movie

Iron’s Kid: ‘Insulted Gasp’ How. Dare. YOU!

Chat Galore: You still have watched Vampire Diaries!

Iron’s Kid: I have taste!

It took almost three weeks for Chloe to stop growling whenever someone mentioned Damian, Jon, or Lian’s name.

Iron’s Kid: I might need to hide out in Paris for a while

Chat Galore: Did you blow up your dad’s lab again?

Iron’s Kid: Worse!

Chat Galore: You superglue legos to your Pop’s shield again.

Iron’s Kid: That was an accident. They were supposed to come right off. And it's worse.

Chat Galore: Melt another hole in your living room floor?

Iron’s Kid: So. SO much worse.

Chat Galore: You didn’t call Natasha fat did you?

Iron’s Kid: Never that bad

Iron’s Kid: I may or may not have caused MJ’s laptop to crash

Chat Galore: … Shit

Chat Galore: Not even the gods could save you.

A month for Marinette to not look like she wanted to cry when she thought about Damian.

Chat Galore: I’ve decided to learn to cook

Iron’s Kid: Sweet

Chat Galore: Just think One day you will try my cooking.

Iron’s Kid: Sorry, Can’t I’m on a new diet.

Chat Galore: WHAT DIET?

Iron’s Kid: Photosynthesis

Two months for Nino to redownload all the songs he deleted because Lian recommended them.

Iron’s Kid: Archie is one of my best friends

Chat Galore: *doing the Fortnite dance*

Iron’s Kid: I lied I don’t know you

Three months for Adrien to be able to sit in the park and not think about Jon.

Iron’s Kid: I think are MJ and Shure are laughing at me

Chat Galore: Don't be so paranoid

Iron’s Kid: They're pointing at me and laughing.

In the fourth month, things are pretty much the same as they ever were. Though everyone picked up the habit of pretending they didn’t know Marinette started texting Damian again. Eventually, the gang was okay when Marinette announced she was seeing Damian again; even if they, themselves, decided not to deal with the American heroes.

Chat Galore: I really thought 2020 would be a great year!!!

Iron’s Kid: …WWIII was trending in the first week of January.

Time went on. Adrien went on dates, had fun, had a boyfriend or two. He grew up a bit, and kind of understood the position Jon had been in better. And then he wasn’t so angry. Still, a bit hurt though.

Iron’s Kid: I’m sending good vibes your way, they’re coming and there is nothing you can do to stop the

Chat Galore: that is the most threatening way I’ve ever been cheered up.

By the time summer hit, Adrien decided to take a step back from love and romance and just focus on himself. He finally told his dad his wanted to be a Lawyer, and to his surprise, his dad helped him get a summer internship at a prestigious law firm.

Chat Galore: I’ve decided if I kill Lila, I’ll make it look like an accident.

Chat Galore: Unlike Chloe who has plans to mount her head on the balcony like a warning to the next that may come

Iron’s Kid: How will you make it look like an accident?

Chat Galore: I have a crowbar and a banana.

Iron’s Kid: Quick request: Go look up accident in the dictionary.

He quit modeling because he never really liked it. He found out he liked to paint and was pretty good at it. He tried and failed to learn how to dance.

He did learn to surf.

Adrien hung out a lot with Nico, who had become a good friend.

By the time summer ended, the gang was back on speaking terms with Damian, Lian, and Job. Mostly at Marinette’s behest. She and Damian were going strong. And she really wanted everyone to forgive and forget and be friends.

Chloe just agreed to be civil.

Nino agreed to try being friends again after the three apologized.

Adrien, mostly out of love for his all but sister Marnette, put his best foot forward and start over with them – even Jon. They agreed to be friends. Just friends.

Iron’s Kid: I don’t have a nervous system.

Iron’s Kid: I am a nervous system.

Chat Galore: I’m a Scorpio!

Their final year of school started with a bang. Next year they would all be off at University. And by Bang, Adrien meant Alya knocking Lila the fuck out during the first week.

Lila had told the one lie Alya couldn’t just live in denial with.

“I told Ladybug, I just couldn’t do it anymore,” Lila sighed, “I already have so many medical issues. I couldn’t be Rene Rouge anymore. Ladybug was devasted.”

Then the entire class heard Lila scream, and the thing they knew Alya was on top of Lila beating the hell out of her, screaming, “You lying little WITCH!!”

Chat Galore: ‘Video Sent’

Iron’s Kid: Lila’s the girl on the floor right?

Chat Galore: Alya SNAPPED

Lila transferred out of the school Alya transferred out of class. No one got an apology. Adrien didn’t know why he was still a little surprised.

Outside of school, Adrien was pleased to say the gang’s friendship with Jon, Lian, and Damian was back to full force. Even Chloe greeted the three warmly.

Once Adrien decided to move passed any lingering romantic feelings for Jon, they managed to have a pretty good friendship. Even the Superboy and Chat Noir team-ups were going well.

Chat Galore: what should I be for Halloween this year?

Iron’s Kid: a vampire, Batman, my boyfriend, Superman

Adrien laughs until everything processed in his mind.

Chat Galore: What?

He didn’t get a reply. And Adrien figured it was just autocorrected. But still… his mind couldn’t help but wonder. Just a bit… What if?

A while ago, he had vaguely considered that maybe him and Iron’s Kid had something, could possibly be…

In the middle of Winter break, Adrien got the best gift he could’ve ever asked for.

Iron’s Kid: I’ve been thinking

Chat Galore: Well that can’t end well

Iron’s Kid: Have you and MJ been talking behind my back

Iron’s Kid: Wait don’t answer that. I’m afraid to know

Iron’s Kid: Ned made a point the today

Adrien waited for Iron’s Kid to elaborate more, because what?

Iron’s Kid: I’ve been stupid.

Chat Galore: Ned makes a good point, lol

Iron’s Kid: WHAT I’m TRYING TO say is; I trust you

Adrien smiled as his phone.

Iron’s Kid: We’ve been friends since we were like 11

Iron’s Kid: I want to meet

Iron’s Kid: I want to know what you look like.

Adrien agreed instantly. Because he’s been waiting for like six years. They agreed to meet up that spring. Iron’s Kid’s was going on a trip to Europe for his spring break. It was just going to be him and a few classmates who were in the same club as him. Iron’s Kid said everyone else in their grade was looking forward to the Big Senior Ski Trip at the Brown Bear Ski Lodge that happened every year.

Adrien had family in England. They would meet at six pm at the London’s Eye.

Chat Galore: I always figured you were secretly a werewolf and knew we’d automatically be enemies.

Iron’s Kid: Wait, why would we be enemies?

Iron’s Kid: Oh You’re a Cat!

Chat Galore: And You’re supposed to be a genius.

Iron’s Kid: Meow!

Adrien’s seventeenth birthday came and went without any fireworks; metaphorical ones anyway. His party was huge.

He also met the Justice League and got to watch Chloe cuss out the greatest heroes in the world for the invasion of privacy. Marinette, Adrien, and Nino just watched with smiles on their faces.

He was counting down the days. Until he and Iron’s Kid finally met. It was strange to think it was really going to happen.

Chat Galore: Would you say you’re an independent person?

Iron’s Kid: MJ told me to say to yes.

Chat Galore: Stop being weird.

Iron’s Kid: As you wish.

Adrien chuckled.

“What?” Marinette asked. He showed her the text. “It kind of funny.

“Not the Mj thing,” Adrien shook his head. “Iron’s Kid always says ‘As You wish’ whenever I tell him to do something. It’s weird.”

“…Like in Princess Bride,” Marinette asked.

Adrien shrugged, “Never seen it. It’s one of Iron’s favorite though. Irritates him that I refuse to watch it. But I won’t until he watches the Vampire Diaries.”

Marinette stared at him, “And Iron’s Kid says ‘As you Wish’ every time.”

“Yep.”

“Adrien, WATCH. THAT. MOVIE,” Marinette ordered a firm look on her face.

Adrien pointed at her, “No!” He said firmly. “It goes against my principles.” She shot him a curious look. “I have a duty to annoying Iron’s Kid in any way I can.”

The bluenette nodded understandingly, a small smile on her face, “Makes sense,” She said. “I totally accept your reasoning.”

Adrien smiled happily… Like a fool.

In retrospect, he should’ve known Marinette would never back down that easily.

And that was how he ended up literally hogtied on the couch, the Princess Bride playing on the TV, with a smug Chloe and a gleeful Marinette next to him. Nino watched from the recliner with an easy grin on his face.

“You’ve could’ve helped!” Adrien complained to his friend.

Nino shrugged, “I did help!” He defended. “…Them.”

Adrien sighed and allowed himself to watch the movie; he fully knows two things.

One; there was no way he was getting out of this

Two; Iron’s Kid was never going to let him live this down.

The movie was actually pretty good. But then…

The scene played…

Grandpa: Nothing gave Buttercup as much pleasure as ordering Westley around.

Buttercup: Farm boy, polish my horse's saddle. I want to see my face shining in it by morning.

Westley: As you wish.

Grandpa: "As you wish" was all he ever said to her.

Buttercup: Farm boy, fill these with water - please.

Westley: As you wish.

Grandpa: That day, she was amazed to discover that when he was saying "As you wish," what he meant was, "I love you." And even more amazing was the day she realized she truly loved him back.

Buttercup: Farm boy ... fetch me that pitcher.

Westley: As you wish.

Adrien’s mind went blank. His heart started beating faster than it ever had before. It couldn’t mean…

Iron’s kid didn’t mean…

Right?

But what if he did.

Adrien always sort of held a small torch for his penpal. And he never had any concrete evidence that said he felt the same. And he was waiting until he did.

But what if Iron’s Kid was waiting too. What if he was waiting for Adrien to finally say something; to finally get his message.

Chat Galore: So…

Iron’s Kid: So… Did we agree to stop sending cryptic messages

Chat Galore: We did not

Chat Galore: So I finally watched Princess Bride

Iron’s Kid: YES!!!!!!!!! Finally!!! Fuck yeah! Tell you me loved it.

Chat Galore: It was good, you freaking loser

Iron’s Kid: It’s amazing. It’s a classic you asshat

Chat Galore: Learned something interesting though

Chat Galore: ‘As you wish’, huh? You say a lot

Chat Galore: To me.

Adrien stared as his phone waiting for a reply. It came after ten minutes.

Iron’s Kid: I do.

Chat Galore: Does it mean what it's supposed to.

Another five minutes, and it felt agony.

Iron’s Kid: It does

Adrien screamed a little

Chat Galore: Are you seriously just going to give me two-word answers? Why didn’t just you tell me

Iron’s Kid: In a way I sort of did

Adrien glared at the phone.

Chat Galore: You are the most frustrating person to ever exist!!!!!!

Iron’s Kid: Thank you

Adrien took a deep breath before dialing, “You suck!” He said as soon as it answered.

“I told you to watch the movie,” Iron’s kid defended.

Adrien gripped his hair, “You don’t tell someone you love them by using some obscure 80s movie reference!” He snapped. “How hard would it be to say: Iron’s Kid, I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you since we were twelve-years-old.”

It went quiet as both processed what Adrien just said.

“…That’s oddly specific,” Iron’s kid whispered.

Adrien took a deep breath, “Yeah it is.” He said. He was forcing himself to be brave, braver than he ever had before. “But its how I feel. And I can’t help that.”

“I love you too,” Iron’s kid said. “And I’ve loved you since the first time stayed up talking while Binge-watching Harry Potter. It was the first time I realized you know me best in the entire world, and you don’t even know my real name. I could be honest with you in a way I can’t be with anyone. If I could dream up the perfect guy, he wouldn’t even come close to you.”

“Boys meets world,” Adrien let out a small laugh, that sounded a bit more like a sob. “Most of my life I felt alone, even when I was with people. That was until I met you.”

“Pretty little liars,” Iron’s Kid stated.

“In a few weeks, we’re finally gonna meet.”

“I’ll be there,” Iron’s kid said. “I swear.”

Adrien smiled, “Good because I’ve been waiting for six years. And I know this is scary, but I will be there. Don’t let me down.”

“I won’t,” He promised.

Valentine’s day came and went.

Adrien was literally marking off the days on the calendar. The trip was all planned already; Nino, Chloe, and Marinette were tagging along.

Iron’s Kid and Adrien talked every day.

“Okay if you sigh dreamily one more...” Nico teased.

Adrien flushed a bright pink, “I’m finally gonna meet Iron’s Kid.”

“Ahh,” Nico nodded understandingly. “The mysterious penpal. It’s been what seven years?”\

“Six,” Adrien corrected. “Feels like twice that. We like each other,” He admitted. “Like really, really each other. We told each other a few weeks ago.’

Nico frowned, “Just before meeting each other. Sounds like a lot of pressure. You ready for that?”

The blond took a deep breath, “Yeah, I think so. It’s time. It’s going to be perfect. We’re gonna meet at London’s eyes, under the stars; it’ll be like a movie.”

“Your Ferris wheel moment,” Nico concluded. “Marinette told me,” The older boy explained. “Just… be careful okay.”

“I will be.”

Nico gave him a hard look, “I’m serious. I know you. You’re all in. You always are,” he said. “Just don’t build this some more than you should. Don’t go in thinking it’ll be this picture-perfect movie moment. I don’t want to see you let down.” He told Adrien. “You’re my friend. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Adrien gave him a small smile, “I don’t care if the Ferris wheel is broken when I get there. Or its raining cats and dogs. It’ll be perfect.”

“Just be careful,” Nico repeated.

The big day came. Adrien arrived in England on late Thursday with a stomach full of butterflies. Iron’s Kid had texted that he had been in London with his friends for a few days and that he couldn’t wait to see Adrien.

Iron’s Kid: I have brown hair. I’ll be wearing black slacks, and a rose lapel flower pin.

It wasn’t the first time the blond had been to England; he had more than a few photoshoots there. Yet somehow it all felt different. It all felt new. And it was like he was looking at everything again for the first time.

He was to meet Iron’s Kid on Saturday at 6 pm. And he could barely contain himself

He spent most of the Friday touring with his friends. They went to Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, The British Museum; standard tourist spots. And eating really, really British cuisine.

Adrien woke up bright and early on Saturday and pretty much had a panic attack. It took Nino twenty minutes to calm him down. However, even when he was breathing normally again, Adrien was adamant about running back to Paris. That was when Nino called in Marinette and Chloe as reinforcements.

“If I have to drag to London’s Eye by your tacky boyband haircut,” Chloe growled. “I will.”

Marinette tried the nice route, “Everything’s going to be fine,” She assured.

Chloe huffed, “I didn’t come all the way to London so you can be a little bitch.”

“You are so hostile,” Nino complained.

“What if this a mistake?” Adrien asked. “What if he’s disappointed? What if he takes one look at me, and is ‘You? I waited six years, and I get you. Waste of time.”

“That won’t happen!” Marinette said. “He’s gonna love you. He already does!”

Nino nodded, “Yeah. You two are practically soulmates.”

“No!” Chloe held up a finger. “Listen to me clearly, Adrien Agreste; Just because he likes the same nerdy crap you do doesn't mean he's your soul mate. And if it doesn’t work out, not that it won’t, you will be just fine.”

Marinette sighed, “No matter what happens everything is going to be okay.” She said firmly. “But you should really change that blazer. It’s not doing you any favors. Then we’re going to get breakfast and go to the museum. You have 11 hours until you have to be at the London’s eye. You’re going to relax until.”

“While we stop you from fleeing the country,” Nino yawned tiredly.

That had to stop Adrien at least three times. One time Ladybug actually had appeared to pick Adrien up when he was halfway to the airport. This was all before one pm.

The blond boy managed to calm down after that. Then he went back to bursting with excitement. He was still afraid but he couldn’t let that stop him. Adrien has been waiting six years to meet Iron’s Kid, to meet Iron’s Kid.

He arrived at the London’s eye, half an hour before six. He wore a silver suit Marinette had designed for him.

Adrien took calming breaths. Marinette rolled her eyes as she fixed his tie, “See? This isn't so bad. You look amazing.”

“Are you kidding?” He gave her a nervous smile, “He traveled over three thousand miles to me. Any second now he's gonna get here, look at me and go, "Ha. Yeah, right, you're so not worth this.”

Marinette gave him a hard look, “Yes, you are.” She patted his chest. “Take a lot of pictures. Text if you need anything.”

And then she was gone.

Adrien texted Iron’s Kid.

Chat Galore: I’m here. Blond; silver suit.

The blond looked up at the London’s eyes, the biggest Ferris wheel had ever seen, and knew this was it. This was the moment Adrien had been waiting for. He smiled.

When six pm came, Adrien was practically bursting at the seams. He was literally shaking in excitement. He watched the people go by and held his breath every time he saw a guy his age with brown hair but would frown when he didn’t see the rose lapel pin.

Chat Galore: You here yet?

Six turned into seven. The sun had gone down. The stars were shining. Everything looked so perfect. Adrien was sure Iron’s Kid was on his way.

Chat Galore: If your running late it’s cool. I’ll wait.

Seven turned into eight. Adrien refused to give up hope. He would wait no matter how long it took.

Iron’s Kid was worth it.

Chat Galore: Still here.

Chat Galore: Did something come up?

Eight turned into nine. The London’s eye closed. People started leaving. Adrien texted his friends that he was fine.

He wasn’t feeling as hopeful as he did a few hours ago. But he’d wait.

Chat Galore: Still waiting.

Chat Galore: Well past feeling just a little pathetic.

Nine turned into ten. Hope kind of then.

Chat Galore: Still here. Still waiting.

Chat Galore: What happened?

Chat Galore: Just say something!

Ten turned to eleven. Adrien didn’t even know why he was still waiting.

Chat Galore: Anything! Please!

A quarter to midnight, Adrien finally got an answer.

Iron’s Kid: I’m sorry.

That was it. That was all he said.

Adrien got back to his hotel room a little after midnight; feeling numb. His throat burned a little. His eyes were a little red.

Nino greeted him with a big grin, “Back late, huh? Must’ve had a good time…” He trailed off when he saw the look on Adrien’s face. “Oh god, what happened?”

Adrien shoved his hands in his pockets, “He, uh, he never showed up,” he said and swallowed the lump that had been building in his throat. “It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s okay.” Adrien nodded. “I need to, I have to, uh. I got to the bathroom.” And then he fled into the bathroom, locking the door behind him; willing the world to just stop existing for just a few moments.

“Dude, it’s okay,” Nino said through the door. “I know this has to be rough. But you’ll get through it. I’m here. I called Chloe and Marinette, they’re on their way.”

Adrien didn’t say anything. He just wiped the tears off his face, and then gripped the bathroom sink.

“They’ll probably be banging on the door any sec,” Nino added. “Unless, Marinette’s trying to stop Chloe from committing murder,” He joked. “Which would be way rude by the way. I’d have liked an invitation. I thought our friendship was stronger.”

Adrien heard loud knocking and the sweet voice of Marinette asking where he was, and the furious voice of Chloe already talking about how she knew how t to hide a body.

The blond boy figured it was only a matter of time before Nino or Marinette convinced him to open up the door. Or Chloe broke it down.

However, surprisingly after twenty or so minutes of his friends pleading with him to open the door, the door would gently swing open to reveal Marinette kneeling with a lockpick set in her hands.

That got a smile out of Adrien. After all these years, the bluenette was still full of surprises.

Adrien spent the rest of the night letting his friends comfort him. They left England the next morning.

When they got back to Paris, and Adrien was back in the comfort of his room, he finally texted Iron’s Kid back.

Chat Galore: Why didn’t you show?

He’d wait for a reply all day but wouldn’t get one.

The next day, Adrien texted again.

Chat Galore: I’m not mad.

Chat Galore: I promise

Chat Galore: just a little hurt.

Again, he’d wait for a reply all day, but it didn’t come.

Though his friends tried to get him to talk about it, Adrien wouldn’t budge. He just couldn’t…

It just stung too much. It burned too much.

Chat Galore: I get it if you were afraid or something

Chat Galore: It’s okay.

And was the truth; it was fine.

He would be fine. Everything was good. It was okay.

Adrien would be fine.

That was what he told everyone.

Chat Galore: We can pretend this never happened if you want

Chat Galore: Just be friends.

Adrien still didn’t get a reply. That didn’t stop him from waiting for one. He figured Iron’s Kid was just embarrassed that he didn’t show or something. Everything would go back to normal after a few days.

Chat Galore: I’m going to see Onward. Heard its pretty good.

But a few days became a week. A week became two. Two weeks a became a month of radio silence. And a seed of worrying starting to grow in Adrien’s stomach. Nevertheless, Adrien wrote Iron’s Kid once a day. He refused to give up hope.

Adrien kept a smile on his face to stop his friends from being concerned. There was no reason to. He would be fine. It was okay. It wasn’t the first time he got his heart broken; probably would even be his last.

His days were split between studying and fight Hawkmoth. The villain was getting bolder and more desperate. Every Akuma seemed worse and stronger than the last. The kids got used to the feeling of always being dead on their feet.

Marinette finally decided they needed a break and ordered a family game night. She got the newly permanent heroes Luka, Kagami, and Aurore to cover for them.

Adrien tried to give all his attention to the monopoly game they played; laughed when he was supposed to. Tried to ignore that in the back of his mind, his attention was still a bit focused on his phone, and that fact that it's been a month since he heard from Iron’s Kid.

A month since London.

He barely even blinked twice when Marinette successfully bankrupted him, even though he was the first one out. Instead, as soon as the game got more intense, Adrien stuck away. He found himself on the roof the bakery, staring at the stars, clutching his phone in his hand.

Chat Galore: I’m running out of things to say

Chat Galore: Hard to have a one-sided conversation.

Chat Galore: I’m not even sure you’re reading this.

Chat Galore: Maybe I’ll just you send you movie quotes until you respond

Adrien looked back up at the stars and wished. He wished never agreed to meet Iron’s Kid. He wished he never told him he loved him. He wished he could take it all back because at least he’d still have his friend.

He wrapped his arms around himself. Adrien blinked back the tears that were building.

He heard the door open behind him and figured it was Chloe or Nino coming to check on him; whoever got kicked out of the game firsts. Because Marinette was going to win.

“Beautiful night,” A voice said. “Nothing quite like Paris in the springtime.”

Adrien cast a quick smile at Nico, “I always preferred it during Winter. A Snowy wonderland.” He went back to looking up at the stars.

“You know someday someone will walk into your life,�� Nico said as he walked to stand next to the blond, “And make you realize why he never worked out with anyone else.”

“Go ahead,” Adrien laughed bitterly. “Tell me I told you so.”

Nico shrugged, ‘Iron’s Kid’s a kid. And an idiot.”

“Yeah,” The blond sobbed. “That doesn’t mean much coming from you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nico crossed his arms.

“Nothing,” Adrien rolled his eyes. “I’m just tired… I'm so tired of falling for guys that don't fall back. It hurts.”

“Adrien, I…”

Adrien cut him off, “It’s the same thing every time. I’m all in, and they’re not. I’m the one left out in the cold. I’m waiting, looking like a total idiot. Because I was stupid enough to give all my heart when no one else ever does. So you wanna help me, Nico? Tell me what I do wrong.

“Nothing!” Nico gripped Adrien’s shoulders. “There is nothing wrong with you. You’re smart and talented. You’re caring and you’re funny. You look at this world like everything is possible, and you make me believe it too. You’re not the problem.”

“Tell me why I'm so easy to give up then,” The blond asked. “And maybe I can fix it”

“You’re asking the wrong guy, Sunshine,” Nico whispered, his forehead against Adrien’s, their lips inches apart. “There is no time or place or world, where it would ever be easy to give you up.”

Nico moved closer; so did Adrien…

“Hey!!” A voice called from downstairs. “New games starting. It’s Poker! Hurry your butts up!”

The two guys snapped back to reality and away from each other.

“You should go,” Nico said dryly, looking away from the other boy. “I’m going to stay here for a bit.”

“Nico…” Adrien said, looking a bit confused.

The older boy shook his head.

The blond nodded and started for the door.

“For what it’s worth,” Nico called. “He made the wrong choice.”.

A small smile spread over Adrien’s face, “I know.”

“I wonder what would’ve happened if we met when we were older,” Nico asked.

Adrien shrugged, “Someday we will be.”

“Long game?”

“Long game.”

He went back to the living room where everyone was waiting, with the cards and poker chips already dealt.

Adrien settled in the seat next to Marinette.

The bluenette shot him a concerned look, “You okay?”

“I’ll be…” Adrien sighed. “Eventually.”

The blond boy decided to chalk up whatever happened on the roof with Nico as… Just the two of them being caught in the moment. Emotions were high.

…That didn’t stop Adrien from smiling every time someone mentioned Nico’s name.

Chat Galore: Everything is possible.

Chat Galore: Even the impossible.

He still wrote Iron’s Kid once every day. Adrien didn’t say much. He just sent a movie quote he liked, just to let Iron’s Kid know he was still there. He was still waiting… if Iron’s Kid ever changed his mind.

Chat Galore: When you can’t look on the Brightside, I will sit with you in the dark.

A month became two.

Chat Galore: In the garden of memory, in the palace of Dreams, that is where you and I shall meet.

Two became three. They figured out who Hawkmoth was. The battle had been epic. Adrien’s father had hesitated when he realized Adrien was Chat Noir, long enough for Ladybug to make the killing shot.

Figuratively anyway.

Ladybug blasted Hawkmoth into a wall. The heroes banded together to remove his miraculous. Then they erased his memory. And then Natalie’s. Of any and all knowledge of magic permanently; defeating Hawkmoth once and for all.

As far as Gabriel knew he was just a recluse workaholic with what barely passed as a decent relationship with his only child.

Adrien was devastated to learn who his father really was. Even so when he discovered the reason behind Hawkmoth’s villainous pursuit; his comatose mother and learned from Fu there was no way to save her; not even with a wish.

The blond boy had long ago mourned his mother and moved on but that it didn’t hurt.

Emilie Agreste was officially declared dead and buried on a sunny Tuesday afternoon in the middle of Spring.

Chat Galore: Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it

Three months became four.

At this point, he knows Iron’s Kid’s never going to write him back. And that was okay. Adrien was okay.

People move on. And while Adrien would always wonder why Iron’s Kid never showed, he could live without knowing.

If anyone asked why he was still writing, Adrien would say he didn’t know.

But that was a lie.

He did know.

Iron’s Kid had been a really big part of his life, had been one greatest friend he ever had; had been his first love in a way.

So yes, Adrien knew exactly why he was still writing.

He could live without Iron’s Kid in his life but he couldn’t live without one thing.

Chat Galore: Here's looking at you kid

Adrien officially graduated from school. He was accepted into Columbia. He’d be living in New York. And so, would Chloe, Marinette, and Nino. They decided they wanted to stick together and keep being heroes.

Chloe would be going to Columbia with him to study business and public relations. Marinette would study business and fashion. Nino decided to dedicate his life to being the next great movie director. Adrien would study Law.

They decided to get two apartments across from each other like in F.R.I.E.N.D.S. Because that was pretty much all they knew about New York.

Damian would be attending Columbia; he was gearing up to take over Wayne Industries one day. Him and Marinette were still going strong. Lian would be going to Princeton, as Oliver Queen would be damned if his granddaughter went anywhere else. Jon would take a year off to explore the world before attending Metropolis University; he still wanted to Major in Journalism.

Damian kept hinting hard that the Titans, not the Teen Titans, were looking for new members. And as he was the current leader of the Titans, it was less of a hint and more like being actively headhunted by the most aggressive Robin to ever walk the earth.

It was official, they weren’t kids anymore.

Chat Galore: You know that place between sleep and awake where you’re always dreaming? That’s where I’ll always love you. That’s where I’ll be waiting.

They had a few months before they had to move completely to New York, and decided to do something special. Or rather Tom and Sabine did.

And mostly because they just wanted to see where their kids would be living from now on.

Sabine and Tom claimed to find this great deal on a ski resort near New York. Everyone was invited; Nico, Kagami, Luka, Aurore, Lian, Jon, and Damian.

They did the whole tourist thing, led by Nico who was excited his cousin would be living in the same city as him and explored the great New York City, and Tom and Sabine got to see the penthouses, Gabriel and Audrey had bought each their perspective children and were assured their kids would be living in a safe location.

Chat Galore: So maybe it won’t look like you thought it would in high school, but it’s important to remember that love is possible. Anything is possible. This is New York

The Brown Bear Ski Lodge was packed, apparently, some class from a school called Midtown had booked a trip at the same time they did. So the entire lodge was filled with graduating seniors, between the ages of seventeen and eighteen years old.

To say it was wild was an understatement. Sabine vocally wondered why the school though three chaperones to watch over an entire class of students were enough. Tom just comforted Mr. Harrison when he started to cry.

Adrien got to meet loads of kids his age, a few that would even be starting at Columbia the same time as the French kids. It turned out most of the kids from Midtown were insanely smart.

The blond boy ended up spraining his ankle while skiing and ended up spending most of the time on sitting on the lodge’s bay window watching nature and relaxing. He ended up sitting there long after nearly everyone else had gone off to bed.

“Having fun,” A boy his age asked, one of the few people left in the room. He was handsome with light brown hair and kind brown eyes.

“As close as I can get,” Adrien answered.

The brown-haired boy smiled, “Well if you get bored out of your mind, I got some movies on my tablet if you want to watch. I know some pretty good ones.”

“I’m good,” Adrien said. “You can join me if you want. I wouldn’t say no to company.”

The boy did, “Name’s Peter.”

“Adrien.”

“By your accent, I’m guessing your not with the Midtown group,” Peter asked. “Also, because I’m from the Midtown group.”

Adrien snorted, “France. I’ll be living full time in New York come autumn.”

“Is that right?” Peter looked excited by the news. “You’re gonna love it.”

“Yeah, and why’s that?”

And then Peter went on to tell Adrien all about the places and people he loved in New York. They talked for hours until morning rays hit them through the window.

Over the next week of the vacation, the two ended up finding themselves repeating that; talking and letting time disappear.

Chat Galore: I wish I knew how to quit you.

Adrien introduced Peter to Marinette, Chloe, Nino, and the others. Peter introduced him to his friends Michelle, Ned, and Gwen. Like Adrien and his friends, Peter and his friends were pretty much attached at the hip.

“He pissed me off, so I put a porn virus into his computer,” Michelle answered the Marinette’s question as to why a Eugene kept running from her.

Marinette and Adrien had decided to enjoy a nice cup of hot chocolate by the fire, only to be joined by Peter’s friends: Michelle and Ned. Another would’ve joined them but he scampered away the second he saw the girl.

“He deserved it,” Michelle added.

“He totally did,” The large Asian boy nodded in agreement. “But MJ you might’ve taken it too far when you made it happen during class.”

Marinette giggled. “Harsh!”

“No mercy, Ned!”

Adrien laughed until his brain processed what was said, “Wait, I thought your name was Michelle?”

Michelle and Ned froze like deer caught in the headlights.

“MJ’s my nickname,” Mj explained cooly. “And we should really be going…”

“Geniuses,” Adrien suddenly recalled; his mind finishing a calculation, he didn’t even realize he was trying to figure out. “Who goes to a school for super-smart kids. MJ, scary queen who could rule the universe,” He pointed at her. “Ned; loveable teddy bear nerd with a fixation on Legos. A bully named Eugene who I’m guessing goes by Flash.” He swallowed hard, and fixed hard green eyes on the two kids in front of him. “Did you take a class trip to Europe in Spring? Keep in mind I would really like you to say no.”

Ned and MJ paled.

“Ned and MJ,” Adrien repeated. “Iron’s Kid’s best friends…” He whispered. “Peter’s best friends. Peter is Iron’s Kid, isn’t he?”

MJ narrowed her eyes at him, “Chat Galore: Adrien Agreste.”

Adrien’s entire body froze. He tried to remain calm, “This can’t be happening.”

Marinette glared at them, “Your friends with Iron’s Kid!” She growled. “Peter is Iron’s Kid. What was he thinking? How could he just stand Adrien up? I’ll kill him!”

“I never told you my last name!” Adrien realized. “How did you?”

“We hacked into Peter’s phone a few months ago,” MJ shrugged. “And traced your Ip address.”

Adrien glared, “And Peter knew? When I got here, he knew who I was didn’t?” He accused. “He lied right to my face!”

“It’s complicated!” Ned looked at Adrien with wide eyes. “Yeah, he knew who you were when he saw you. He just wanted a do-over. It’s weird I know. I told him not to do it!”

MJ looked at Marinette, “You should kill him. It was a bitch move,” She said. “But if it means anything, he regrets not showing up at London’s eye.” This part she told Adrien.

“Like super regrets it!” Ned added. “You can’t beat him up half as much as he does himself.”

“I can try,” Marinette crossed her arms.

“He reads your texts every day,” Mj said.

Adrien stood up angrily, “Then why doesn’t he text back?” He demanded to know. “Why didn’t he show up at the London’s eye. I waited! I’ve been waiting!”

MJ shrugged, “I can’t answer that,” She said. “Only he can. I can only tell you he was stupid. And he overreacted. You deserve to hear everything from him.”

Ned nodded eagerly, “He really likes you. He nearly dropped dead when he saw you were here. Just let him explain!”

“No!” Adrien snapped. “I don’t want to see him. Ever.” He clenched his fists. “I… I just can’t.”

And he stumped away.

He went to his room and packed his bags. He was getting out of there. He was leaving he had nothing to say to Iron’s Kid. Or Peter. Or whoever he was.

There was a knock on his door.

“Go. Away!” Adrien snapped.

“I can’t do that!” It was Jon that surprisingly said that.

“Come in!” The door opened. “What do you want?” Adrien asked. “Sorry, I’m just a bit busy right now.”

Jon wore a red plaid shirt over a white t-shirt and blue jeans, “Don’t leave,” He told Adrien.

“I have to,” The blond said he snuffed his suitcase.

“You can’t!”

Adrien all but snarled, “Look you don’t understand. You don’t get it.” He said. “I have to leave.”

“Yeah I do,” Jon said and shut the door behind him. “Super hearing, remember? I know everything that’s going on. You can’t go, not like this.”

“Yes, I-” The blond started but was cut off.

Jon grabbed his shoulders and sat him on the bed, “You deserve an answer. You’ve been waiting for an answer,” He stated. “You deserve to know why he didn’t show up.”

“And why he decided to mess with me for the last week?!!”

“That I understand!” Jon said. “He wanted to start over. Second chances are hard to come by. And once upon a time, there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t have done for one.”

“And you think he deserves one?”

“Just talk to him,” Superboy said. “Or scream at him. Whatever.”

Adrien ran a hand through his hair, “I haven’t been waiting for an answer,” He admitted. “I would’ve liked one, but I wasn’t waiting for it.”

“You love him,” Jon said. “You did. Or do. I know. Because I remember how you used to look when he texted you. I know… Because you used to look like that around me.”

“Jon…”

“I saw you two together,” Jon said. “You’re good together. Leaving now would be a big mistake. I’m saying that as your friend. Meet him, talk to him. Even nothing happens. Or everything does.”

Adrien hid his face in his hands and groaned, “Even if it’s just to reject him?” He crossed his arms. “Wouldn’t it be better to just leave?”

“Not for you,” Jon shook his head. “Look, if you reject him now, he's gonna make it his life's mission to go out there and meet the most perfect, beautiful guy or girl in the world just to try and get over you. And he'll end up marrying this other person and spending the rest of his life with them. And you know, he'll tell himself that they're perfect and... He really must be happy, but they won't be you, you know? And that’s the worst thing that will happen.”

It went quiet.

“Follow your heart, Adrien,” Jon added. “It’s what you do best. And it’s the best thing about you.”

Then the boy of steel left.

And Adrien was alone with his thoughts.

Chat Galore: Relationships are messy and people’s feelings get hurt. Who needs it?

Adrien left. It wasn’t his finest moment and not his bravest. But he left. Because he wasn’t ready to see Peter. Not yet. He texted his friends and tom and Sabine that he was leaving and that he’d okay… eventually.

He’d go back to New York City, leave on the next flight out. He’d back to the big Apple two months later, move into his apartment with Nino, Marinette, and Chloe and start his life there.

Two weeks after that Chloe would get the opportunity of a lifetime, a PR internship for college credit at Stark Industries. The blonde girl invited them all to go on her tour with her; apparently, she was told she could bring friends.

Adrien would frown when he heard but not say anything. Peter wasn’t the only one with friends that could track an IP address.

It was time. No more running.

Stark Tower was everything, the kids all dreamed it would be. A scientist, futuristic wonderland. They oohhh’ed and awed. And Adrien tried to enjoy himself and keep his mouth closed.

Even when the most advanced elevator in the entire world “mysteriously” malfunctioned and took them to the very top floor; otherwise known as the place the Avengers lived.

“Sorry about that,” Tony Stark, himself, gave them his most charming grin when the doors opened and he was standing right there. “We’ll get that fixed right away.” He promised. “Come on kiddies, let me show you where the big kids play.”

He led them to the living room where Captain America was watching TV.

“Hey, babe!” Tony grinned. “This is Chloe, Pepper’s newest intern. Marinette, Nino, and… Adrien.”

“Tony…” Steve Roger gave his husband a chastising look.

“Cap…”

Adrien huffed and glared at the occupants in the room, “Cut the crap,” He ordered them, drawing surprised looks from his friends. “Where’s Peter?” He asked. “Iron’s Kid,” Tony smirked at the name. “Is Peter. Peter Stark-Rogers.”

His friends turned fierce glares at the Avengers.

“It’s a setup!” Chloe accused.

“Heroes are supposed, to be honest,” Marinette chided.

Nino crossed his arms, “What a letdown.”

“Where’s Peter?” Adrien asked again.

“He’s coming,” Tony said. “You three and my hotter than the sun husband come with me; I’ll show you the training room that you can use full time If Ladybug, Queen Bee, Carapace, and Chat Noir decides they wanted to ditch the Justice League and hang with the Major Leagues.”

His friends paled at the fact that Tony Stark and probably all the Avengers knew their superhero identities and followed Iron Man out of the room. Steve just sighed at his husband’s antics and follow him out.

Adrien crossed his arms and waited.

The elevator would ping, and five minutes later Peter would walk into the living room. They just at each other for a few moments.

“I’m sorry,” Peter finally said.

Adrien shook his head, “I don’t want your apologies. I came here… I waited here… for the same reason I’ve waited the last seven months,” He said. “I only waited to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” Peter gave him half a smile. “We’ve only just met.”

Adrien pointed him, “Don’t!” He said. “Don’t quote movies at me.” He snapped. “Why?” Adrien asked. “Why weren’t you there? How could you not be there?!”

“I was!” Peter said. “I was there. I saw you. I was terrified. And I left.”

“I was afraid too!” Adrien said. “The difference is I still showed up. I waited six years to meet you. And I waited at the London’s eye for almost seven hours, and you just left me. You blew me off.”

“I’m sorry!” Peter yelled. “I’m so sorry. It was the biggest mistake of my life.”

Adrien clenched his fists. “Why didn’t you write me back? Why did you pretend at the lodge?”

“I don’t know,” Peter admitted. “I really don’t. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just saw you and my mind just went blank. I thought it was like fate giving me a second chance. I didn’t do it right. I screw up. Again!”

“A second chance?” Adrien glared at him. “You think that was your second chance? No. Your second chance was I texted asking what happened. You got another chance every time I texted you. I texted you every day for six months. Those were your chances!” He yelled. “If it was over for you, you could have told me. Said something. But you left me in the dark. If you didn’t feel the same about me, you could’ve told me. I just wanted my friend back!”

“Adrien, I…”

“Why didn’t you write me back?” Adrien asked, tears burning in his eyes. “Why? It wasn’t over for me. Six months, that’s one hundred and eighty-two days. I wrote you one hundred and eighty-two times. I waited for you! It’s too late now. It’s over!”

Peter looked ready to cry, “I wrote you over three hundred emails. I have them saved on my computer I never sent them. I didn’t think they’d be enough. They’re still not enough. It’s wasn’t over for me. It’s still not over.”

“Why?” Adrien asked again. “Why didn’t Iron’s Kid show up? Why was he so afraid?”

Peter just looked at the blond boy for a moment, before taking a deep breath, “Iron’s Kid thinks about that moment every day. He used to think he didn’t show up because he was afraid of what would happen; that it wouldn’t work out. That he’d lose one his best friends.” He said. “That them being together would ruin everything. Because they were just kids; they were stupid and young. But that was just a lie he told himself because he was afraid. The truth is, He was at the London’s eye that night, he saw Chat Galore: the most perfect person he’d ever seen and got scared for a completely different reason.”

“Why?”

Peter stepped towards Adrien, “Once he figured that out, and he figured that out really quick but only when it was just too late, Iron’s Kid didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know what to say to make it right. So he said nothing. And it killed him every day. Iron’s Kid would give anything to go back to that night at the London’s eye, to back to that moment when they were supposed to meet. Before everything went wrong. Iron’s kid would tell Chat Galore everything he always wanted. But he couldn’t. Because doesn’t work like that. Instead, he was so sorry for what he had done.”

Adrien just listened.

“Because Iron’s Kid realized,” Peter said, “That he wasn’t afraid that night because he thought it wouldn’t work out; that Chat Galore wasn’t the one. He was absolutely terrified because he knew he was. And if Adrien could just give him one more chance. Just one more chance, he’d spend the rest of his making it up to him.”

“Peter…”

“I love you,” Peter said. “I’m totally and completely in love with you. And I don’t care if you think its too late. I’m telling you anyway. Because if I don’t, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. Because I know in my heart, you’re the one for me.”

Adrien just sighed and looked away, wondering what he should do.

“I don’t what’s going to happen in the future,” Peter said. “I don’t if in the time I was an idiot if Jon or Nico or Luka,” He chuckled, and so did Adrien. “Won your heart. I just know… I may not be your first love, but I intend to be your last. However long it takes.”

A smile spread across Adrien’s face, “You watched it,” He said. “You finally watched the Vampire diaries. It only took you, what? Seven years.”

“Six and a half,” Peter corrected. “Sorry I made you wait.”

“I know,” Adrien nodded. “I need some time, okay. I need to get my head on straight. Before I decide anything.”

“I understand,” Peter agreed eagerly. “I get it. I’ll wait.”

Adrien would take two weeks to decide what he was feeling and what he wanted to do. And when the two weeks were over, he knew exactly what he wanted, and who he wanted. So he made a call.

And then ended up a Coney island, next to The Wonder Wheel, one of the most famous Ferris wheels in the world. He waited in line and happily got on the ride. The seats next to him were quickly filled by Marinette, Chloe, and Nino.

“Finally getting your Ferris wheel moment?” Nino asked as the ride started.

Adrien smiled, “Yeah. Except I wanted the people I love the most with me.”

“Awww,” Marinette hugged him. “We love you too.”

“That’s a dollar for the overly sentimental jar,” Chloe glared at him. “And no more rom-com for you.”

Adrien snorted.

The kids enjoyed the ride, and when it was over, and they got off, Marinette asked, “So you didn’t choose anyone?”

“Well…” He motioned to the guy waiting at the exit of the ride. “I wouldn’t say that. I’m done. No more waiting, no more long game, no more… anything. Its time I get a little more proactive.”

Chloe smirked, “About time. Get it, Agreste!”

“Just remember you have a roommate,” Nino smirked.

The three walked off to enjoy the rest of the amusement park.

Adrien smiled at them, and then smirked at the guy waiting for him, “Wait long?”

“I’d wait forever.”

2K notes · View notes

whatifxwereyou · 3 years ago

Text

Firestorm Part 12: Chongqing

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 2021 Liu Kang x Reader

And now for an interlude where you go shopping with Chen and Lao. It goes just about exactly as you expect until Lao becomes serious Lao. You needed this.

A/N: longer chapter but had a blast writing it! enjoy, friendos.

Start From the Beginning << Previous Chapter Next Chapter >> Chapter Index

Chongqing was overwhelmingly loud and bustling. Your trio couldn’t have stood out more amongst the crowds of the busy shopping district. Kung Lao with his hat and tunic, Chen in her simple robes, you dressed like a vampire. Black had become your new favorite wardrobe color. The ink didn’t stain it quite as badly.

The perpetual lump in your throat was going to drive you completely mad. You’d never felt this kind of anxiety before. In fact, you had been used to being the butt of every joke in your hometown. Wherever you went people would stare. But you’d never actually put any of them in danger before. This was different.

It felt like you were wrapped tight in explosives and had to pretend you were normal while walking through a busy street. No one noticed you was explosive. Kung Lao seemed pleased to be out and about with you in the world. Chen stood next to him, scowling at Kung Lao for whatever reason. You had enough to deal with without trying to understand what Chen was mad about. Chen grabbed your wrist and checked your pulse. You sighed heavily and looked away. She’d done that twice since you’d left.

“It’s not going to get any slower.” You whispered and Chen looked to you disapprovingly, then wrote something down in her little book. “We really don’t have to do this.” This was about the seventieth time you’d said that this morning. Kung Lao had insisted you run your errand. “It’s a stupid little errand and it seems silly.”

“We’re already here, Y/N. Don’t stress so much.”

“Yeah, but we’re going to Andong soon and I can get what I need there. Really. There’s way too many people here.” The dangerous scenarios that repeated in your head were wild. Chen then stepped back and Kung Lao smiled brightly at you. He was confident as ever for a man who you’d maimed just the other day.

“It’s just a few hours, Y/N. Just the two of us.” He rested his hand gently on your shoulder. Chen cleared her throat behind you and Kung Lao’s smile fell. “And her I guess.”

“As rude as ever, Kung Lao.”

“That’s Master Kung Lao and if I didn’t have to bring someone who could handle Y/N’s health issues if they creep up then I wouldn’t have.”

“Well, you had to. Sorry to break up your romantic day out, Master Kung Lao.” Chen bowed but the sneer on her face was priceless.

“Romantic? No, no, no.” You thought this couldn’t be further from romantic. A trip to the biggest city in China to get birth control was more like a bad dream. At least right now. Maybe it was a little funny but only if everyone came out of it unscathed.

“Where to first?” Kung Lao looped his arm in yours and guided you down the road slowly. With a heavy sigh you gestured down the street.

“Anywhere. Even a drugstore would do.”

“What could you possibly need from a drugstore that we don’t have at the Temple?” Chen had volumes to say on the matter but was being on her best behavior.

“I’m sure Y/N has her reasons.” Kung Lao defended you and then leaned closer to whisper. “…but what do you need?”

“It is no one’s business.”

“Wow, defensive.” Kung Lao grinned. Chen pointed at him and nodded to agree.

“Lady stuff. Okay?” An easy answer to make Kung Lao stop asking you questions.

“Oh.” Both Chen and Kung Lao seemed disappointed that it wasn’t something more exciting.

“It was bound to come up eventually.” Chen narrowed her eyes suspiciously. You were grateful that Chen didn’t seem nearly as bold in front of Kung Lao.

“This is suddenly a much less exciting trip.”

“What did you think I needed to buy, Lao?”

“Clothes? Lady… things?” He looked you over from head to toe and your jaw dropped. You stopped your walk and pulled your arm away from his, resting your hands on your hips. Chen was trying very hard not to laugh, face turned away but beat red with effort.

“Are you implying that you thought I had invited you to come shopping for lingerie with me?” You gestured to yourself. Chen was now failing at her task of not laughing. She was open mouth wheezing, bent over with one hand on her knee.

“I feel like that’s something I would excel at.”

“I think that you would be the exact opposite of helpful.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous, Y/N.” Kung Lao grinned, delighted that he’d managed to turn your face red. Chen was practically crying tears of happiness.

“And just what would you do if I took you into a lingerie store, hmm? I’m calling your bluff.” You tapped your foot expectantly and Kung Lao stiffened up. If he wanted to tease you then you would tease him right back, Chen be damned. He stuttered, ran his tongue over his teeth, but then grinned and pointed a finger at you with no words to back it up. “That’s what I thought.”

“If that’s a challenge Y/N, then you’re on.”

“Are you sure? Tall man, already standing out like a sore thumb with that hat, towering above a store full of women shopping for lacy underthings? Really sure you want to do that?”

“I uh…”

“Because it will be awkward. Not the fun, sexy thing that you think it’s going to be.” You were winning and rather happy about it.

“I can’t breathe, you two have to stop.” Chen was coughing with laughter. You patted her on the back.

“At least someone thinks we’re funny.”

“Not for the reasons you’re thinking.” You muttered and then gave Chen another smack on the back and then cleared your throat. Chen wiped her eyes. “I do need clothes but it’s not urgent. And I’m not underwear shopping with you, Kung Lao. No offense.”

“We’re here so you should get what you need while we are. I’ll just be the creep standing outside the store.” Kung Lao slipped his arm around yours again and then led you further down the street, eyeing the shops. You had to dart between people as you walked and being in this big of a crowd made you visibly uncomfortable.

“We should get this over with quickly.” You didn’t mean to sound like you didn’t want to spend time with him. You were uncomfortable but only partially because you were out with Kung Lao and Chen.

“Come on, Y/N. Relax a little.”

“It’s dangerous to be around this many people.” There was no point in dancing around the truth. They didn’t seem to take you seriously. How many times had you wounded Kung Lao and Liu Kang? These were men that you cared about deeply. Unusually tough men with magic powers. Imagine what kind of damage you would do to Chen if you lost it. And the ten people who had just walked past you! You shivered at the thought. Chen patted your shoulder comfortingly then drifted behind you and Kung Lao as if to try and alleviate your worry.

“Try not to think about it.”

“Really? I… let’s just get it over with.” You laughed in disbelief. You wouldn’t ruin their mood just because you were nervous of what could be. Kung Lao led you into the massive store on the corner. It was a towering building. Just inside there was a sign along the wall listing each level and what was sold on them. This floor was convenience. The floors above were separated like a department store.

You pulled your arm free of Kung Lao’s and meandered through the aisles. There was a pharmacy at the far end. Yes, your target. You stopped in the middle of the aisle and frowned. You didn’t have a prescription. Damnit. What had you been thinking? None of this was working out the way you’d wanted it to. It was comically bad! You laughed at yourself and Kung Lao furrowed his brow next to you.

“What’s wrong? You okay?”

“Yeah. It just struck me how weird it is to be shopping with you like life is normal.”

“I do it all the time.”

“Does it ever stop being weird?” You had been lying and Kung Lao hadn’t noticed. Score one for you.

“People stared and pointed at you all the time when we were kids. I can’t imagine that changed much after I left. You can’t possibly feel weird about it now.”

“Well, there’s a man standing next to me with a big weapon-y hat and… we stand out in a different way. Plus I’m dangerous.” You nudged him. Kung Lao grinned.

“I’m happy to stand out next to you.”

“You’re so corny.” You pointed to the next aisle. “Lady things. My mission. You coming?” You dared him.

“Ugh, no. I’m going to go look at literally anything else. Ruining all my fun…” Kung Lao teased, patting your shoulder before walking in the opposite direction. Good. Chen was nowhere to be found. She’d probably been distracted by something or another. Good. She’d needed to get out too. With a sigh of relief, you made your way to the pharmacy counter instead of the next aisle. The woman behind it looked so tired that you thought maybe she was a prisoner there.

“Picking up?”

“Actually… and I know this is going to come across at stupid but… I’m from out of town and I’ve forgotten my birth control.” You lied. You sounded like you were lying. It was so terrible. You were the worst! You’d used all your lying skills up for the day. Thankfully, the pharmacist seemed so tired that she either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “I know that usually I can’t get it without a prescription but I was hoping there was something I could pay for outright over the counter, maybe?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. The only thing I have over the counter is for the morning after.” She was surprisingly sympathetic for someone who was most definitely not paid enough. “I can call your doctor’s office and see if they’ll fax over a prescription if you like.” That was helpful except that you were supposed to be dead so that didn’t work out.

“No, no. I don’t have a primary care doctor here and…”

“Oh, I can call just about anywhere.”

“That’s nice, um… no, it’s okay. Thank you though. I’ll take some of the morning after stuff if you have it.” You sighed heavily. It was better than nothing. You tried to figure out a way to sneak into a doctor that day but it didn’t seem possible without completely abandoning Chen and Kung Lao. Maybe you would be able to do it later with Liu. Ugh, you didn’t want to wait that long. Your face flushed just thinking about it. You couldn’t wait to share this story with Liu later. It was hilarious. You paid for the medication which you asked to be double bagged. When you turned around, you found Chen standing behind you, hands on her hips, a smile on her face.

“I knew it.”

“You knew what?” You tried to play it cool but your face had immediately turned red and betrayed you. Chen tapped the bag and the burning in your cheeks intensified. “What? My hormones are being whacky.”

“Bull. You’re a terrible liar. I knew something was up. You are trying to be prepared before sleeping with one of those boys. Or both if you’re smart. Trying not to get pregnant, right?” Chen pointed an accusatory finger at you but her eyes were sparkling with joy. The woman behind the counter was now watching you with delight.

“Shush! Quiet!” You grabbed Chen’s arm and pulled her further from the pharmacy counter. “Please.”

“If you don’t tell me I’ll get louder. Kung Lao isn’t that far away, you know.”

“Fucking fine, you are mean, Kung Lao was right.”

“I love when you curse.”

“You are the worst…”

“Yeah, I know, the worst monk.” Chen brushed off the insult. “Tell me! It’s been ages since I’ve had anything juicy.”

“Fine. Yeah, I wanted to try and get some birth control. But I’m a moron for… numerous reasons. I forgot that I needed a prescription. So this whole embarrassing and stressful trip was next to pointless.”

“You should have told me, Y/N. I work in the infirmary. You’re not the only girl in the temple who needs birth control. Some of the hormones in there are crazy. I’ll get you some when we get back.”

“…well, now I feel bad. That was nice.”

“If you didn’t buy birth control then what did you buy?” Chen narrowed her eyes suspiciously then in a flash snatched the bag from your hands before it could be pulled to safety. She stepped back toward the pharmacy counter out of your reach and then looked into the bag. “Y/N! You dirty girl!” She grinned. You yanked the bag back from her. “You slept with one of them and didn’t tell me?” Your face was so red you thought you might explode. There were no words, just embarrassment. You weren’t the one who was a gossip, this should not have been surprising. “By the way? You should buy some tampons to cover your tracks. I keep those in the temple too, by the way. You really should have just saved yourself the trouble and just talked to me.” You felt more and more like a moron. You deserved this. Your shaming had been earned. “Did you have unprotected sex with one of them? Here I was thinking that you were never gonna spread your legs and…”

“Wow, wow… okay shush… this is a rollercoaster and I need off.”

“You didn’t have to make this trip. All you had to do was talk to me.”

“Yeah, so you can have your weird vicarious fantasy.”

“Obviously.”

“And you’d help with the Plan B, huh?”

“Maybe. Did you sleep with Kung Lao? Bareback? Really? You want to breed with that?” Chen seemed to be considering if this were a viable option and you wanted to bash your head repeatedly into the wall until you were unconscious to escape this embarrassment. “I mean, I guess that wouldn’t be the worst thing but you…”

“No! No I did not.” You were practically squealing.

“Oh.” Chen grinned from ear to ear and your face dropped. “So it was Liu Kang then.” Your face was so hot you were practically suffocating. It was not nearly as fun as the kind of suffocation being with Liu Kang had provided. The woman behind the counter was listening to you with rapt attention but pretended to go back to work when she realized she was caught.

“You have got to be quieter.” You walked away from Chen, down the aisle, grabbed a box of tampons then paid for it at the pharmacy counter. Then you shoved it deep in your bag. Chen was grinning so wide that you thought she looked deranged. Before you could say anything further on the matter Kung Lao joined you from the other end of the aisle.

“Oh, good. You look done. I was bored.” He looked you over and narrowed his eyes. “Your face is red.”

“Uh… hot in here, right?” You fanned yourself and Chen snorted with laughter. This had to have been Chen’s dream come true, short of walking in on you with one of them.

“…that woman is staring at me.” Kung Lao whispered, stepping closer to you, and nodding toward the pharmacist.

“It’s the hat, I’m sure. Didn’t notice.” Every word was a struggle to say without bursting into laughter. You then grabbed his hand and dragged him away from the pharmacy counter. He slowed you down, pulled his hand free, and then slipped his arm around your waist lazily.

“I was thinking that we could grab something to eat if you’re up for it. I’m hungry.” Thankfully Kung Lao hadn’t needed any answers. Chen joined you, walking on the other side of you. “There’s a pretty good sushi place around here if I remember correctly.”

“Do you think it’s responsible for me to sit in a restaurant?” You were in disbelief but at least your face was finally cooling down.

“You’re still allowed to live, Y/N.” Kung Lao’s grin finally fell.

“Yeah, live a little.” Chen added. You could practically see the devil horns sprouting on her head.

“You guys don’t… get it.” You pulled away from Kung Lao and stopped your walk, turning to face them.

“I really don’t.” Kung Lao pouted and then mouthed that he was hungry. For sushi.

“Look at yourself, Kung Lao.” You gestured to him. “You’re bruised to hell.”

“Bloodied too.” Kung Lao seemed proud of it.

“Wouldn’t know. He never comes to the infirmary unless he’s dragged there. Even then, he’s the worst.”

“I’m only the worst because you’re so mean.”

“Is that reason? Because if that were the reason then it would only be me dreading you visiting the infirmary.”

“I’m… going upstairs to buy some clothes. You can keep bickering and I’ll think about food.” You turned away and walked to the stairwell around the corner. You breathed a sigh of relief to be away from people and then fanned your still red face. Only seconds later, Chen and Kung Lao joined you. They were still bickering. The permanent look of disgust on Kung Lao’s face as they argued about his health was hilarious.

Let them argue. You walked up to the next floor and found it was women’s clothing. You searched the rack for some staples. Now that you thought about it, you really did want to buy some lingerie but you couldn’t dream of doing that with those two breathing down your neck. Instead, you focused on staples. You found a few things to sleep in, more pants, cute black shirts. Black was your new aesthetic, apparently. You couldn’t help but think that you were beginning to dress like the witch that everyone in your hometown had accused you of being. It was a little comical.

Kung Lao stood next to you and Chen disappeared in the stacks. You were trying not to laugh at how annoyed he looked. He shoved his hands into his pockets and then peered over your shoulder, purposely trying to catch your gaze and distract you.

“Yes?” You turned toward him.

“None of this is lingerie. Boring.”

“Wow, so funny.” You rolled your eyes but smiled. You gave him a hard time but it really was fun to be out and about with him. He made you laugh. This experience was stressful for too many reasons but he managed to make it a little less nerve racking.

“I’m sorry for being a dick about this.” Kung Lao rocked on the balls of his feet, avoiding your eyes. “I know that you’re afraid of hurting people. I’m just… used to deflecting everything with humor. Tried to ease the tension and made it worse. And your friend being here isn’t making it easier. I swear she has it out for me.”

“She does seem to.” You smiled sympathetically. Now that you thought about it, Chen had tried to tell you something a few days ago. It felt like a lifetime since then. Maybe her attitude had something to do with that.

“I was kind of hoping that we could find some alone time. I could sneak you into a movie.” That sweet smile was back and you had to avert your eyes. It was a cute idea but it also made your stomach drop.

“That’s probably not safe unless we’re the only ones in the theater.” The weight of your truth made your knees buckle. “Maybe after we figure this out.”

“I figured that’s what you’d say.” It was Kung Lao’s turn to look disappointed. “Maybe Liu is right to worry about you.” He slipped his arm around you again. “It’s going to be okay, Y/N.” Was it though? They really didn’t get it.

“I could explode with ink right now and you would be impaled.” You placed the clothing you’d picked up back on the shelf. Shopping didn’t seem so important anymore. Kung Lao cocked an eyebrow in surprise. “Those women walking behind us? Dead. The damage I’d do to the store and the employees would be irreparable. You’d be incapacitated if not dead. Who knows who else I’d hurt? I’d never forgive myself, Kung Lao. I don’t think anyone has really thought through the danger that I truly pose. Raiden seems to be the only one who gets it.” You didn’t like having this conversation with anyone, especially Kung Lao.

“Y/N… I…”

“Chen’s so busy teasing me about you and Liu that she forgets how dangerous this is. You… it’s sweet. You’re so confident that we’re going to figure this out and that we can handle whatever happens but one wrong move? And you’re dead.” You knew it was harsh to talk like that but you thought about it constantly. “You were confident about it in the arena too and look what happened, I…” You were upset and you didn’t want to be upset.

“Hey, hey…” Kung Lao placed his hand on your cheek to stop you from going on. Brow furrowed he pushed your hair away from your face. “Take a breath.” You did. It helped a little. He urged his hands to your shoulders and then down your arms. “I know all of that. I really do. I don’t mean to be dismissive… but I can’t help but think you have to take the risks. You can’t just hide away forever.”

“Am I hidden, Kung Lao? We are in… arguably the biggest city in the world. I’m here. Just… cut me some slack for being nervous. This is a new anxiety for me and I am learning to deal with it.”

“I don’t want you to stop living because of this. I want to make sure you still have fun.”

“I’m not worried about that! I’m not worried about having fun…” What did that have to do with anything?

“I know. And that worries me.” Kung Lao seemed exasperated. “This is so much stress and it’s going to eat you alive. Come on. Come with me.” He took your hand and started through the aisles.

“I’m shopping, Kung Lao.”

“It can wait.” He led you through the store and to the elevators. Pulling you inside, he pressed the button for the top floor. Your heart was suddenly racing. Kung Lao had been flirting on and off all day but this was different. You and Liu hadn’t drawn any lines in the sand about what you were but you knew she wanted to be with him. Don’t overthink it. That was all you had to do.

The elevator dinged and you walked onto the top floor that was filled with various appliances. Lao led you into the stairwell and you climbed the last staircase that led onto the roof. He pushed open the door and then walked with you to the edge of the building. A railing had been installed to keep people safe and there was a garden in dire need of watering. From there you could see much of the city. The air wasn’t exactly clear that day but it was still breathtaking. You hadn’t seen that much life in a long time. You leaned against the railing and watched the world below as it passed by. The wind howled that high up and whipped hair around.

“Everyone’s afraid of something. Every single one of those people down there.” Kung Lao had his arms folded on the railing, chin resting against them next to you.

“That’s true. But not everyone could kill the people they care about with the things that frighten them.”

“Maybe some can. Who are we to say?” He joked but then leaned up from where he’d rested his chin. “Y/N?”

“What, Lao?”

“I’ve been thinking and…” He hesitated but leaned one arm on the railing as he turned to face you.

“What is it?” You turned but felt your heart instantly leap into your throat. He took a step closer and towered over you. Panic. Sudden panic. Your first instinct was to stop him and tell him about Liu but nothing came out. The idea of hurting him was crippling. Part of you loved Kung Lao. You’d always loved him. You’d had a love affair without having ever been together. But this was different. He pushed your hair away from your face again, hand brushing gently down your cheek and then beneath your chin.

“You’re really special. You know that, right?”

That hadn’t been what you’d expected. What did he mean? And why?

“I’m sure that you feel as cursed as I tease you about being but… you’re special. Not everyone could handle the weight of what you’re dealing with. And not everyone would be responsible with it. Most people wouldn’t be, I think.” Kung Lao smiled. “Think of the kind of villain you could be. If you were to side with Outworld with this… insane power you have? The destruction that you’d be capable of… look, I’m not trying to convince you to do crimes, I’m just trying to say that you’re special. And you should know that.”

“Lao, I…” You furrowed your brow because through this whole thing you hadn’t thought of yourself as capable or special. But there Kung Lao was, rearranging everything in your head. How had he seen it but you hadn’t? Maybe you’d been given this gift and this curse for a reason. Maybe it was because you could handle it when others wouldn’t have been able to. His thumb brushed against your chin and then traced up your jaw. Okay, now he was going to try and kiss you. The mood was right but you kept thinking about Liu Kang and how deeply you’d fallen for him.

Then the door opened behind you.

Chen.

“Did you two really abandon me to have a romantic moment on the roof? Leaving me wandering the store in search of you for an hour?” She huffed and puffed but had several bags on her arm. She had enjoyed shopping at least. “I said to myself, I bet they’re on the roof. Having a romantic moment. Just had to sneak away. And here you are. Having a romantic moment. As predicted. Unbelievable.”

You took a step back and wiped your face, embarrassed. Kung Lao pulled off his hat, ran his fingers through his hair, and then replaced it again.

“Sorry. I got in my head. Needed to breathe.” Your face was red again.

“Sure, breathing is what that was.”

“I’m not sorry. Wish you’d been lost looking for us for a few more minutes.” Kung Lao sounded arrogant even as he slipped his arm around your shoulder and led you back toward the stairwell.

“Not at all surprising!” Chen called after you before joining you.

“Stop arguing. You’re making my head hurt.”

“But Y/N…”

“If you stop arguing, I will agree to get sushi.”

Chen and Kung Lao exchanged a glance and came to a silent agreement with a nod.